Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Xander, not SGC, not this computer...nothing.
Author's note: This is my first ever
published fic! Please review! I plan on continuing this, and would like feedback.
Xander smiled as he reached the entrance to the Cheyenne Mountain Military Base, home to the U.S. Air Force’s Stargate Command. He fingered the invisibility bracelet Willow had made him before coming here, and walked quietly between the two guards watching the entrance.
A few minutes and a couple elevator rides later Xander ducked into a deserted corridor and removed the bracelet, then proceeded towards the debriefing room. Willow had made sure he memorized the lay-out of the complex so he could find his way around blindfolded. Not that he’d get into a situation like that, he hoped. As he walked down the halls he nodded to passing airmen – to them, he appeared as just another soldier in the standard uniform with the standard weapons issued to all who were stationed at the SGC. It was at times like these he was most thankful for the week of pain he’d gone through in a Shaman’s hut in Africa while re-growing his eye – there was no eye-patch making people look twice at him, making him stand out in a crowd.
Colonel Jack O’Neill was not looking forward to their next mission. SG-1 sat in the debriefing room with General Hammond, preparing for their off-world mission. It was a no-action, artifact-retrieval trip. Go in, let Danny-boy read some squiggly lines, pick up a few odds and ends, come back a few days later. It was gonna be boring as hell in Jack’s opinion.
Just as Jack settled back for a boring few days, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” said General Hammond.
A young airman walked in and snapped off a salute smartly.
“Message from the top, General, sir,” the man reported, holding out small white envelope.
“A message,” the General asked, confused. It was unusual to receive a message directly from the entrance, or the “top” as those at SGC called it. Mail was brought in by truck daily. “Who is this message from?” he asked.
“A man walked up to the gate, sir,” the airman said. “He held out the envelope and asked that it be given to you. The man walked away after handing over the message. We had the envelope checked over, sir. No sign of bacterial agents or any other indications of danger, sir.”
“Very well, thank you, airman.” General Hammond nodded at the man, dismissing him.
As Xander left the debriefing room, he decided he was feeling a little hungry and headed towards the cafeteria to wait for the shit to hit the fan.
General Hammond turned over envelope in his hands, which had no markings on it other than the bold words, “General Hammond” on the front. Ignoring the curious members of SG-1 for the moment, the General sat at his desk and opened the letter. As he read the words neatly written on the single sheet of paper within, his eyebrows steadily rose. Dear General Hammond,
My name is Rupert Giles and I represent an international organization known as the Watcher’s Council. Your president will have heard of us if you wish to verify the contents of this letter.
The Watcher’s Council has many operations, most of which I will not go into now, but our foremost task is to, astonishingly, watch. We watch the world around us, paying close attention to things most others either ignore or are not aware of. We work with multiple governments to prevent disasters from causing chaos and harming the people of our world unnecessarily. I am sending this letter to you, General, to prevent such a disaster.
I, as well as a selected number of members within my organization, am aware of what your section of the U.S. Air Force does, and what goes on within your base. I will not go into it here as a precaution against the possibility that this letter is compromised, but suffice to say the Watchers have eyes everywhere on Earth, including the SGC.
The disaster we wish to prevent is this: a certain group of individuals exists that has learned of your operations and wishes to control it. They are not affiliated with any government or military organization, but they are powerful. They have the ability to infiltrate your base, and once they succeed in that, it is only a matter of time before they control all within your base.
I know I may seem like an over-dramatic fool to you, General, but this organization is like nothing you have ever faced. Talk to the president; tell him what I have told you. My organization offers its assistance in this matter. We are willing to share our information and our resources with you.
I hope you take my words into consideration.
Rupert Giles, Director of the Watchers Council
P.S. On a side note, in the hopes of convincing you of the seriousness of my message, one of our field agents has infiltrated your base in a manner similar to how the enemy organization may attempt to. My instructions to him were to hand this letter to you in person, from his hand directly into yours, and you would not have this letter unless he was able to carry out my instructions exactly. He is still on the base – I suggest you find him and ask him any questions you have. He will gladly answer them, after you have spoken with the President.
General Hammond blinked a couple of times after reading the letter.
“General?” Major Samantha Carter asked. The General looked up to see her and Dr. Daniel Jackson looking at him curiously. Teal’c was considering him as impassively as ever and Jack was practically bouncing in his chair, impatient to know what was up.
“Who’s the letter from, General?” Jack asked.
The question spurred Hammond into motion, and, handing the letter to Jack, he moved quickly over to the intercom system. As SG-1 crowded around Jack, quickly scanning the letter, the General spoke into the intercom to everyone on the base.
“This is General Hammond. We have an intruder on the base. He is in uniform and is not suspected to be hostile. Please look around you for anyone unfamiliar. I repeat: there is an intruder on the base. If you find him, contain him where you are and send for me.”
“The Watcher’s Council?” Daniel gaped, amazed. “I thought they had disappeared!”
“You’ve heard of them, Dr. Jackson?” Hammond questioned.
“Well, sir, I’ve read a bit about them, basically what this Mr. Giles wrote here, as well as they dealt with a lot of occult and myth-related items. They were a very secretive organization, but there were many scholars known to be part the council who used their resources to write dissertations. Rupert Giles was one of the few people who did not think I was crazy after my paper on aliens building the Great Pyramids. The entire council disappeared from the scholarly world a few years ago.”
Hammond frowned. “So these people exist, then.”
“Yes, sir, they do,” Daniel replied.
“Do you have any idea who this “enemy organization” may be, Dr. Jackson?” The General asked.
“No, sir. I-“ Daniel was cut off as someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said General Hammond.
An airman came in and saluted. General Hammond made sure he recognized the man before waving him to speak, not wanting another intruder to get away.
“Sir,” the man said. “We found the intruder in the cafeteria. He is being guarded there now.”
“Thank you, airman.” Hammond nodded. “What was he doing there?”
“He was eating, sir, and talking to us. There were five of us at the table. We assumed he was from another shift, sir.”
“What were you discussing,” Jack asked.
“Nothing important, sir. We were just joking around, talking about football and the food”
“Alright,” said General Hammond. “Let’s go visit this intruder.”