The Fix For '06

Author: Badgergater

Email: [email protected]

Season: 9

Spoilers: No specific episodes

Rating: Anyone

Category: Drama, tiny

Warnings: None, unless you're a Vala fan or a shipper

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent. I don't own Stargate SG-1. It would be damn different if I did.

Author's Pledge: The real Jack O'Neill, presented with honest, accurate information about the fic so that the potential reader may make an informed decision on whether or not to read.

Author's Note: Thanks to all those who feedback. It's not an easy time to be a Fan of Jack, but we persevere.

-------------------------------------

As the meeting droned on and on and on and on and on ad infinitum, General Jack O'Neill was bored. Numbers with that many zeros in them meant nothing to anyone who wasn't an accountant, and a government accountant at that. A billion for this and a billion for that and four billion for the other thing, and the new ship was over budget and behind schedule and short on naquadah and even shorter on trinium. Oiy.

Jack O'Neill sighed.

Being a general wasn't much fun. Being a general stuck in the Pentagon was even less fun. Being a general stuck in the Pentagon and cursed by required attendance at endless meetings on issues of Homeworld Security-where nothing seemed to get decided-was no fun whatsoever. Now, if they'd let him take a team off world to look for more naquadah or more trinium, or to find an abandoned Ancient ship to take the place of the one that they were trying to get built, now *that* would be fun.

Not this endless talk and never ending paperwork.

Jack tried to look interested in the reports being presented. He actually was interested in the parts about the weapons systems and the crew quarters and the ship's speed and acceleration capabilities. The parts about the tonnage of naquadah that the new ship required, and the delay in getting the new transducer inducer inductor unit-thingys built, bored him to tears.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve. Time to make your resolutions, Jack thought idly, making notes on his yellow legal pad with the hefty engraved writing instrument (god forbid someone call it a simple pen) that was undoubtedly the Porsche of writing instruments, given to him by some bigwig who'd been out to impress him (and failed).

By the time the meeting was over (with the conclusion that, until more naquadah and additional trinium were secured, the shipbuilding wasn't going to catch up to schedule, or get back on budget), he'd come up with his resolutions for 2006.

--Wipe out Oreos, Orioles, Oareyes-- ah, kill off those new alien bad guys.

--Eat more pie.

--Get Carter and Pete back together.

--Buy a new motorcycle.

--Get the heck out of Washington.

--Go fishing.

--Buy back the house.

--Banish that Vala person to a galaxy far, far away.

--Get the *real* band back together.

Oiy, if only he could. That would make 2006 a year he could get excited about.

As the meeting ended, Jack tore out the single sheet of paper where he'd made his notes, and, with a grin, stuck it in his pocket.

---The End---