|George to the Rescue by Cleo|
( HOW GEORGE HAMMOND SAVED THE NEW YEAR)
The usual disclaimers: No copyright infringement intended. I love and respect the characters...and mean them no harm. :)
Rated PG - for some cursing. Feel free to email Sel and she'll send the comments on to Cleo. Right now she's in the Fan Fic Relocation project.
The man was huddled under the low-hanging branches of a pine tree. Peering out into the night, he cursed. ‘That damned Jacob. Where the HELL is he?’ He waited as the temperature continued to drop. His breath frosted the whiskers on this face. He hadn’t had an opportunity to shave for nearly two weeks. Groaning, he dragged the hood of his cloak over his bald head. It was beginning to snow. He wrapped the cloak tightly around his body and settled his back against the large tree’s trunk. ‘How do I get into these things?’ he asked himself. He had traveled a winding route, Gating from planet to planet to arrive at this icy destination. All at Jacob Carter’s behest. Jacob. His dearest friend.
To his left, he heard the soft crunching of snow and the faint hoot of an owl. He kept silent. The hoots came closer. There was a rustling of the pine’s branches and Jacob said, “Glad you could make it, George. I really need your help. If we don’t act, there will be no New Year tomorrow, or ever again!” Jacob pulled George to his feet and said, “It’s about two klicks ahead.”
“Just one damned second, Jacob. What are we doing here? What’s ahead and what’s the deal with needing to save the New Year?”
“Lower your voice, Old Man. The Goa’uld have designed a device that will halt time on Earth. Nothing will ever go forward again. Do you recall the time-loop you all were stuck in a few years ago and you repeated time over and over again? Well, Old Man, Jack was right. Blowing that technology to bits wasn’t enough. Ragnar found scrolls that described the device, built his own version and intends to employ it at midnight tonight. There will be no January 1, George. There is no way to reverse the effect.”
Sighing, George asked, “So, Jacob. How did you find out about this and who the hell is Ragnar, anyway?”
Jacob addressed himself to the answers. “Ragnar is the newest of the bad, George. We ran into him about four months ago. The Tok’Ra had an operative in his camp. She was compromised, tortured and killed, but was able to let me know what was planned before she was caught. Selmak thinks we can destroy the device without attracting any undue attention. She wanted you to come because she thinks you hold the key to success. In fact, the ONLY key to success!”
The two old friends silently made their way through the forest. Snow was falling, muffling the sound of their steps. “I’m holed up just over that rise, George. Timing will be everything. We can’t act until the device is turned on and ready to go. I don’t think either one of us has ever been in such a tight spot. We have less than three hours before doomsday for Earth.”
“Here we are, George.” Looking around, Hammond asked, “And that would be where, Jacob?” Jacob led his friend behind some large rocks into a cave opening. Shoving aside some branches, he escorted Hammond inside the cave. The floor sloped downward. George followed his friend until they stepped into a small room lit by a strange green glow. The air was moist, sweet and warm.
“That’s better, George. You’ll get warmed up fast. Here, let me take your cloak. I admire your choice of wardrobe! You look like a villain from an old Robin Hood film! By the way, your beard is quite fetching!”
“Shut up, Jacob. Unless, of course, you care to tell me something useful, such as what am I supposed to do?”
Jacob handed Hammond a gourd cut into a drinking vessel. “Here, George. This will warm you up in a hurry. Come, sit here, and I’ll explain.”
Seating himself on a pile of branches covered with woven throws, Hammond said, “Start with what Selmak thinks I can do. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what.”
“General Hammond, it’s your voice that is needed. More precisely, your singing voice,” Selmak explained.
George Hammond’s eyes widened and he replied, “What the hell are you talking about, Selmak? I’ve been told to never sing in public again. By Jacob, for one.”
There was a deep laugh, “Exactly, General Hammond. The sound of your singing voice, the pitch and the vibrations are just what will stop this device and destroy the settings. Then we can move in and eliminate the device, if it hasn’t also been destroyed. The scrolls are already gone. Ragnar burned them yesterday. No one can duplicate the complicated equipment or re-establish the settings. Ragnar had the scientist who built the device executed and he himself is an oaf who doesn’t understand technology. He sees himself as invincible.”
Hammond looked at his old friend. He took a long draught of the liquid in the drinking vessel. “What IS this stuff, Old Man? It tastes like lighter fluid!”
Jacob roared with laughter. “Pine beer, George. It’ll grease your vocal cords. I’ve never heard you sing sober, so drink up and I’ll tell you what you need to sing.” Hammond swallowed the rest of the liquid and held out the gourd for a refill.
“It’s going to take more than this to get me drunk, Jacob.”
Shaking his head, Jacob replied, “Nope, George. You’re well on your way. That stuff is wickedly potent. Just give it a minute to permeate your bloodstream. You can have a wee refill just before your solo performance.”
‘Hah’, thought Hammond. He stood up, lurched and flailed at the air wildly. He crashed down on the branches with a thunk. “Holy crap, Jacob.”
Jacob sat next to his friend.
“Listen carefully, George. What we need is that lullaby with the awful words-about Mrs. O’Leary. It has the correct cadence, pitch, tone and vibrations. Selmak has been churning around and trying to develop a way to mechanically reproduce this and could not. You and your voice, warbling THAT song will save Earth, George. So, let’s hear it, as a warm-up.”
Hammond groaned, swore, cleared his throat and began singing:
‘Poor Mrs. O’Leary, she was a pauper by birth
She was tired of living and wanted to get off of the Earth
She was dying by inches, which she found very hard
So she went out in the alley
And there she died by the yard.’
Jacob clapped George on the back, Selmak said, “That’s exactly IT, General Hammond! You will need to sing it twice, possibly three times. Jacob and I will be a part of the crowd watching the activation of the device; we will be standing next to you and will tell you exactly when to start. Everyone will be drunk and they will not notice us. Once the device is destroyed, the Asgard will beam us up and get us back to Cheyenne Mountain.”
“You think so, Jacob? If this fails-“
Jacob sighed. “If this fails, there will never be another New Year on all of Earth. Ragnar will then change the setting and attack other planets. He intends to beam this through space with an incredibly sophisticated communications device. There will be no blocking it. All time zones will be advanced to seconds before the New Year begins and taken out at the same instant. Ragnar may be an oaf, but he is diabolical. He will harvest hosts and technology. Once we rid him of this device, the Asgard will work to finish him off.”
Jacob helped his friend to his feet, handing him his cloak. “Wrap up, George. I’ve got your hooch in a bottle for you. Let’s make tracks.” The two men left the warmth of the cave and trekked through the ever-deepening snow to Ragnar’s camp. Reaching the camp, they mingled with the gathering crowd. Jacob led Hammond to an open pavilion. On a platform was the device. It looked like a huge Rubik’s Cube, with colored squares. Jacob explained, “When it’s turned on and aimed at Earth, all of the green and blue squares will glow. They are on two of the sides. You will need to be singing before that last side is all lit up.”
Hammond shook his head, sighed and said, “Jacob, this is the damnedest thing I have ever done. Just poke me when I need to start and give me that bottle. Oh, how will the Asgard know to pull us out?”
Laughing, Jacob pulled a ‘One Shot’ communicator from his pocket.
“Ah,” said Hammond. “That’s good.” There was a low hum from the pavilion. The crowd gathered closer. They were loud in their rumbling murmurs. Ragnar stood next to his Doomsday Device.
“Just sing loud, George.”
Hammond took several swigs from the bottle, cleared his throat and felt the poke from his friend. He started swaying and singing about Mrs. O’Leary’s dying agonies at the top of his lungs. He bellowed the tune again and hummed a few bars, before repeating the entire tune for the third time. One by one, the green and blue squares turned black. There was a rumbling from within the device. Smoke started pouring out as the colored tiles started falling to the ground. The huge cube shook and swayed, breaking into thousands of pieces as it hit the ground.
Jacob rubbed the ‘One Shot’ clockwise and counter-clockwise. He grabbed onto George as a beam of light transported them away from the crowd.
On the bridge of the Asgard ship, Thor, the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet greeted them. “Welcome, General Hammond and General Carter. Not only have you assured that Earth will have a New Year, but what you have done will possibly save the Galaxy from ruination. Have you ever thought that your voice could destroy Replicators as well?”
Grinning, Hammond offered Thor the bottle. “Here, Thor, old buddy, have a snort.”
Jacob rolled his eyes and said, “Commander Thor, that may not be such a good idea. We thank you, for once again, coming to Earth’s aid.”
Thor blinked his huge eyes and responded, “I’d like to see what would happen to a Replicator if General Hammond sings. How did you determine that his voice would destroy the Doomsday device?”
Laughing, Jacob said, “Because he is so terrible. He sounds like nothing on Earth when he sings. Selmak thought that sound, the exactly correct sound, would destroy Ragnar’s device and George Hammond was the only living being that could produce that sound. But he has to be drunk to do so.”
Thor stared at Hammond and said, “I shall prepare some sound studies and will be in contact with you.”
With that, the two were beamed into Hammond’s office at Cheyenne Mountain.
“Lucy, I’m home”, warbled General Hammond.
“Happy New Year, Old Man,” responded Jacob Carter.
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
~ The End ~
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