FIC: The Stand-In (1/3) by Old Ghost
Teri's Note: This story is archived with the permission of the author.
The Stand-In
by Old Ghost
Summary: The SGC needs Jack O'Neill to help free a captured SG team, but he's on leave. Luckily, General Hammond knows a guy who might be able to stand in for the colonel. (Complete - 3 parts)
TITLE: Stand-In
AUTHOR: Old Ghost
EMAIL: old.ghost@juno.com (don't forget the between Old and Ghost)
DATE: 20 May 2003 Gregorian
ARCHIVE: No - it will not be submitted to any archive. If, however, someone wants to archive it, ask me and I will probably say yes.
CATEGORY: Crossover (MacGyver), Action/Adventure
SPOILERS: Not really.
SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: It's set sometime in Season 6.
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: The SGC needs Jack O'Neill to help free a captured SG team, but he's on leave. Luckily, General Hammond knows a guy who might be able to stand in for the colonel.
DISCLAIMER: "Stargate SG-1" and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. "MacGyver" and its characters are the property of Winkler/Rich and Paramount. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author, Copyright 2003 by Old Ghost. Not to be archived without permission of the author."
AUTHOR NOTE: Anything in << ... >> is a MacGyver voiceover. If you see "END OF PART ##" then you know you got the whole post. Thank you to ReeAnn for the beta-reading. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
* * * * *
OPENING GAMBIT: SNOW REMOVAL
MacGyver moved cautiously through the Central American night, his only
illumination from a small flashlight. He peered through the trees at the
crashed DEA surveillance plane as he put away the GPS device he had used
to locate it. He moved quickly and quietly up to the wreckage. Looking
inside, he saw no body. So, the pilot *had* survived. He was turning to
leave when he spotted it ... a map, evidently marked by the pilot,
showing the target of the surveillance, a drug lord's lab. It was very
close. Some of the guards from the drug lab must have been sent out to
investigate the crash and taken the pilot with them. He reached inside,
grabbed the map and also grabbed the bar-magnifier which lay next to it.
<< Growing up in Minnesota, I went through the three usual opinions about
snow removal. >>
Sunrise was only an hour away as Mac came up the bank of a small river
and glanced over the edge. Only one guard between him and the low, long
building. He waited at the edge until the guard walked past, oblivious
to the well-camouflaged troubleshooter, then he stood quickly. As the
guard turned, MacGyver took him down with one quick punch. He shook his
hand in pain, muttering, "*Why* do I keep *doing* that?" He dragged the
man down the side of the riverbank and rapidly bound and gagged the man
with duct tape. Satisfied that the guard wouldn't interfere, Mac headed
for the building.
<< The first opinion formed when I was a little kid. There was a pond
near our house in Mission City that'd freeze over every winter. I'd
happily clear off snow from the ice in order to be able to play hockey
with my friends. >>
The building had two parts, the lab itself and a barracks for the guards.
The lab's windows were all closed, the air conditioning machinery poking
through the walls at one end. The generator that supplied power to the
building was underneath the protruding a/c casing. The guards, on the
other hand, didn't have it so easy. Their windows were open, as were the
windows of the connecting hallway. Mac guessed the drug lord was trying
to cut costs by cooling only the lab area. Millions of dollars in
cocaine came through this lab and the guy was worried about saving a few
bucks on gas. Glancing in the hallway, he saw an old-style water cooler.
Next to it were three full bottles and one empty. Light came into his
eyes along with a plan. He slipped quickly into the hallway, grabbed one
of the full bottles and went back out through the window. As he did so,
a door to the barracks area opened and a sleepy guard came out. Mac
froze.
<< Of course, sometimes there were guys who'd wait for you to clear off
the pond so they could have the fun. Uninvited guests. >>
The guard went to the cooler, got a drink, then went back to the
barracks.
<< Luckily, this one didn't stick around. >>
Mac moved quickly to the generator and found its fuel tank. Only a
quarter tank left. He took out his Swiss Army Knife and punched a hole
in the bottom of the tank. He paused to make sure no one had heard him,
then gauged the outflow of gasoline and widened the hole. He opened the
water bottle, helped himself to a drink, then poured about half the water
onto the ground. Next, he put the half-emptied bottle under the hole and
made sure the gas was flowing into the bottle. He left it there and
moved along the building glancing into windows. He located the room
containing the pilot. He examined the barred window and nodded to
himself. He went back to check his bottle of water and gasoline. It was
full. He took the bottle back to the hallway window. Inside, he put the
bottle on its side, letting the gas and water mix on the floor.
<< We'd spend all day on the ice. I used to think there was nothing more
slippery than fresh ice. Until I learned about oil and water. Gas and
water should work just as well. >>
He moved down to the laboratory part of the building and glanced inside
the lab. Empty. He entered it and paused. He looked over the various
chemicals in the lab, his mind combining and recombining what he saw
until he found the right combination for his needs. He also found a
large wall safe, an older model. Whoever this drug lord was, he
apparently hated to spend money on his operation. Better for me, Mac
thought. He bent down and began turning the dial, listening for the
tumblers.
<< When I was a little older, I gained a new appreciation for snow. I
saw it as a way to earn extra money. I was the top-earning snow-shoveler
in the history of our neighborhood. >>
A final click told Mac he had done it. He opened the safe and found
stacks of money and stacks of processed cocaine, ready for shipping to
the States. His plan was set now. He just hoped it would work. He went
to the chemicals and started pulling different bottles off the shelves.
He'd used combinations like these before. He found an acid that could
rapidly eat away the bars outside the DEA pilot's cell. He mixed a
compound to start a reaction to destroy the lab. Now he needed a way to
time-delay the explosion ... preferably when the generator's gas tank was
empty. He found it in the eastern window. He grabbed the drug money and
set it in place. Then he opened the window and pulled out the bar
magnifier. He placed the money and the magnifier carefully. When the
sun rose, it would hit the magnifier and ignite the money, which would
ignite the chemicals and destroy the lab.
<< You *could* say I had money to burn. >>
There was one more preparation to make. He checked the hallway. The gas
and water were flowing nicely. He grabbed a large fan from the hall and
took it back inside the lab.
<< Then I got a bit older and formed one last opinion about snow. When I
was seventeen, I realized I had a choice. I could either leave home to
take the only full scholarship I was offered ... or I could stay in
Minnesota and shovel snow every winter for the rest of my life. It was
one of the hardest decisions I ever made. >>
Mac tied his bandana over his nose and mouth and began moving bags of
cocaine to the door, slicing them open with his knife. He positioned the
fan and used the twine from the cocaine bundles to attach its switch to
the door. When the next person opened the door, they'd turn on the fan.
<< Of course, nowadays they have snowblowers. >>
Mac climbed out the window of the lab. He checked the generator ...
almost out of gas. He moved to the barred window of the pilot's cell and
poured acid on the key points of the bars. Then it all went up. The sun
rose. The generator died. The first guard came out of the barracks and
fell on the gas-and-water-slicked floor. His shouts brought others. At
the first shout, Mac wrenched free the bars on the window. The pilot was
now awake.
"Come on," Mac whispered.
She pushed her long black hair out of her eyes with one arm. Her other
arm was in a crude sling. "What's going on?"
"You're a woman?" Mac asked, momentarily stunned. "No one told me you
were a woman."
"Who are you?"
Mac shook himself. "Sorry. Name's MacGyver. Bannister sent me to get
you out. He's a friend of Dan Springer, your boss at the DEA. He said
you'd know his name."
She sat up quickly, hope in her eyes. "Wait ... *Craig* Bannister?
You're DXS?"
"Not exactly. I'll explain on the way."
In the hallway, one of the drug lab's scientists had opened the door to
the lab. The fan turned on, blowing a cloud of coke into the hall. Mac
helped the pilot climb out the window just as the sun's rays ignited the
money. The two of them ran into the jungle as, behind them, the people
from the drug lab fled the building. As they reached the trees, the lab
exploded.
<< All I wanted to do was go somewhere so I wouldn't have to shovel snow
all the time. So how the heck did I end up *here*? >>
* * * * *
"Unscheduled off-world activation."
The voice on the base intercom created a flurry of activity in Stargate
Command that little else could. Either one of the off-world teams was in
trouble, or some other planet was dialing Earth's Stargate address. In
either case, the response was the same ....
"Close the iris," General George Hammond ordered, entering the control
room from his briefing room. As it closed, he watched the SGC troops
pour into the gate room, weapons ready, taking positions. He nodded to
himself with a measure of satisfaction and made a mental note to commend
base security. Response time had been improved yet again. Now they, and
he, would have to wait to see who had dialed Earth's Gate. He became
aware that Jonas Quinn, Teal'c and Major Samantha Carter had entered the
control room without being asked or ordered, a privilege only SG-1 had
earned. Since they had saved the world, more than once, he gave them a
bit more latitude than anyone else in the SGC.
"I thought I told all of you to take some leave," the General said.
"We did, sir," Sam replied. "We are. I was working on a personal
project involving deep space physics." She slid into the seat next the
Sergeant and began accessing information.
"I was reading some of the non-scientific treatments of psychic powers,"
Jonas said. "They're very interesting."
"Non-scientific?" the General asked.
Sam smiled from her place in front of the monitors. "Sci-Fi novels,
sir."
Hammond stifled a grin but humor danced in his eyes. "What about you,
Teal'c? Didn't you go fishing with Col. O'Neill, this time?"
"I was taking the time for some deep Kel-no-Reem exploration," the Jaffa
said, not quite answering the question.
"I understand," Hammond said, knowing how much Teal'c had disliked his
previous fishing trip with Jack. He turned his attention back to the
control room. "Anything, Sergeant?"
"We're not receiving any GDO codes, sir," said the Sergeant manning the
main control.
Nodding, the general became still. Everyone knew their job. There was
no need to talk and confuse matters. He had to wait for only a moment.
"Sir. Receiving audio transmission only. The radio-signal's code is
SG-8's. It's from PD8-735."
"Let me hear it."
"This is Ipua Trato, speaking for the elders of Banti'a." The voice was
male, oddly accented. "Your soldiers have been taken as prisoners. They
have killed our leader. We will release them unharmed only if your hero
comes to arrange for terms ... only if O'Neill comes to us."
"This is General Hammond. I am the commanding officer of the men you've
taken prisoner. What terms did you have in mind?"
"No! We will deal only with the hero ... with the man who kills gods.
We will deal only with O'Neill."
"How do I know my men are still alive?"
"You ... speak."
"Sir, this is Major Lambert. We killed a Jaffa. He recognized us as
being from Earth and we fired in self-defense."
"Are you and your team all right, Major?"
"Bruised but okay, sir. Sir, I ...." The major's voice was cut off.
"Major!"
"He is unharmed," came Ipua Trato's voice again. "Send O'Neill to
bargain for the lives of your soldiers."
Hammond controlled his temper and kept his voice as even as possible.
"Col. O'Neill isn't here. It will take some time for us to locate him."
"Very well. You have until mid-day tomorrow."
"Now look here. We might need more time than that."
"Mid-day tomorrow, or we will slay these men."
The wormhole closed down.
Hammond looked at the three members of SG-1. "I'm afraid your leave time
has to be put on hold. My office."
Moments later, the four of them were in the office. Sam and Jonas sat in
the chairs in front of Hammond's desk. Teal'c stood in place. They
watched as Hammond dialed Jack's cell phone.
The sound was coming from Hammond's office. The four of them looked
around and then Sam realized it was coming from behind her. She stood
and opened a file drawer. Reaching in, she came out with the colonel's
phone.
She turned it off, then pulled a sticky-note from it.
She read it, then passed it to Hammond.
He read it aloud. "Not this time, General. Jack."
"We may have a problem," the General said. "Did any of you read the
briefing on PD8-735?"
"Only the highlights, sir," Sam replied. "Generally low-technology, but
in possession of a few advanced pieces, which we assumed were left over
from Goa'uld occupation. SG-8 was going to negotiate for access to the
technology. Did I hear Major Lambert say there was a Jaffa there?"
"That's the problem. If there was a Jaffa on PD8-735, there might be a
Goa'uld presence on the planet after all."
"So what do we do?"
"Teal'c, I want you to go talk to Bra'tac and the other Jaffa. See what
they know about a world called Banti'a."
"I will do so immediately, General Hammond."
"Good man. Jonas, I want you to learn everything you can about their
culture from the briefing and initial reports."
"It's not much, sir. I can have it completed in maybe three hours."
"Three hours? Go to it. I want a report from each of you by then."
Jonas and Teal'c left.
"What about me, sir?"
"Col. O'Neill told me he was planning to be utterly unreachable this
time. He said he really needed a few days just to himself. I want you
to see if you can track down the colonel's location, but be ready to
leave in three hours."
"Sir?"
"I can't take the chance that we won't find him in time, but I have an
idea. There might be another option, although I'd rather not use it if I
don't have to. I'll let you know in three hours."
* * * * *
MacGyver returned home to his beachfront apartment, utterly exhausted.
It wasn't so much the adventure in the jungle ... it was the politicians,
bureaucrats and assorted paper-pushers that met him when he returned to
the U.S. with Cassie Montgomery, the DEA pilot. Everyone wanted a report
in triplicate and he'd swear that half of them thought *he* was the cause
of the trouble, instead of the troubleshooter. Luckily, one of those
paper-pushers was able to convince the airport authorities to let him
keep his Swiss Army Knife. He forgot, sometimes, just how paranoid
things had become.
Still he was home, now. He paused to watch the late afternoon sun over
the Pacific, then climbed the stairs to his second floor apartment. His
place was cool and quiet. Glancing around, he saw a note by his phone.
It was dated just the previous day, from his son.
"Dad," the note read, "I got a photo assignment in Europe. I stopped by
to tell you but you weren't back yet. I'll be back in ten days, maybe
two weeks. Wish me luck." It was signed, "Sam."
Knowing he shouldn't, but unable to stop himself, he hit the playback
button on the answering machine before he collapsed onto the couch.
"Mac, it's Pete. Nice job in Central America. Actually, it's
what convinced the Phoenix Board to approve Bannister as the new head of
operations around here. Don't worry, I'm not retiring. I'm just ...
taking it slower. I'm still on the Board. And, uh ... the Board still
wants you to come back. Call me, huh?"
"MacGyver, it's Cassie. I just wanted to say thanks again. I'll
be in your neck of the woods in a few weeks and I know a great little
restaurant out there. Call me."
"Mac, aren't you ever home? I know you've got a great view of
the ocean, so how come you're never there?" Mac's eyes had begun to
close but shot open at the sound of Jack Dalton's voice. Dreading the
worst, he kept listening. "Anyway, old pal of mine, I need your help
with something, but it can wait. *No*, I'm *not* in trouble this time.
It's ... look ... call me when you get back. I'm staying at the hangar."
There were no other messages. Mac lay back and let his body relax.
He was awakened by the sound of knocking at the door. He knew he'd been
asleep and he knew it hadn't been for nearly long enough. "Don't open
the door ... don't open the door," he said to himself. The knock came
again and Mac rose. "Jack?! I swear, if that's you, I'm gonna punch ya
in the nose!"
He opened the door quickly and stopped in his tracks.
Carter, Teal'c and Jonas, all in civilian clothes, also stopped, shocked.
"Damn, he looks just like the colonel," Sam muttered.
"Indeed," Teal'c said.
"I see why the general wants him," Jonas added.
"What?" Mac asked.
"Sorry," Sam said, recovering. "Angus MacGyver?"
Mac winced at the use of his first name. "Just MacGyver. And you are?"
She produced her ID. "Mr. MacGyver, I'm Major Samantha Carter, U.S. Air
Force. This is Jonas Quinn and Teal'c. We need you to come with us."
Mac looked at the ID then returned it, satisfied as to its authenticity.
"Nope."
"No?"
"No. Major, I just got back from a long, tiring trip. I need sleep, so
if you'll excuse me...?" He began closing the door.
Sam held the door open with one hand. "General Hammond said to remind
you about the horse and the helicopter," she said quickly.
Mac stopped and thought for a moment. "Horse?" He said. "Helicopter?
Wait ... *George* Hammond?"
"You know him?"
Mac groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have opened the door. Where are we
going?" he asked resignedly.
* * * * *
Once they reached the nearest military airfield, Carter suggested that
MacGyver try to take a nap on the plane. His security clearances were
being held up and they weren't allowed to brief him until he was cleared.
"Paper pushers," Mac said in commiseration. He was asleep before the
Lear jet had even taken off.
Some time later, Jonas looked up from his notebook. Teal'c was sitting
with his eyes closed, but also sitting within range of their new
acquaintance. Jonas smiled slightly. He was constantly amazed by the
Jaffa's single-mindedness when it came to security. When he looked over
at Major Carter, he saw that she was watching MacGyver, too. She had the
man's file open in her lap but the look on her face was ... odd.
"Major?"
"Wha...?" the Air Force officer said, startled. She recovered quickly
and said, "Oh ... um ... yes ... Jonas ... what is it?"
"You were staring at him."
"It's just so strange to find someone who looks just like Col. O'Neill."
"But you've seen doubles of Jack a number of times. The crystal energy
being, the android, the alien device that could make anyone look like him
...."
"This is different. No one copied him this time. It's just ... a
genetic twist of fate."
Jonas nodded, not sure whether he quite believed the major's
rationalization but willing to let it go. He gestured at the file. "So
... what's this MacGyver all about?"
"Let's see," Sam said, grateful for the shift in topic. "Physics major
in college, a tour in Viet Nam on a bomb-disposal team, then a few years
of wandering around before being recruited into the DXS. He stayed with
them for about seven years and then followed the man who'd recruited him
into The Phoenix Foundation, a think tank with strong ties to the
intelligence community. Six years as a 'troubleshooter' with them, then
he resigned. 'Personal reasons.' Since then, he's been a consultant for
various environmental groups ... and he spent almost half a year at an
archaeological dig eighteen months ago ... still does occasional
freelance assignments for The Phoenix Foundation, usually at the request
of the DSX."
"Sounds like a guy we'd want in the SGC."
"I don't think so. The file also says he's a loner by nature and rarely
stays with one thing for very long. Even when he was with the DSX, he
had a special contract that gave him right of refusal on any assignment.
And his superiors both praised and hated his ... what they called 'unique
solutions to problems.' It says here he ... what? Wait a minute. He's
*that* MacGyver? Damn, I *thought* that name rang a bell."
"What?" Jonas asked, confused, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean
'that MacGyver'? Who is he?"
"A few years ago, the stories went around about this guy who could take
an object and find a way to use it as something else to solve a problem.
He's turned a flare gun into a rocket thruster to parachute off a mesa
with an injured pilot. He defused a bomb with oven cleaner, milk and a
neon sign. For a while, a bunch of us called those things MacGyverisms."
"You?"
"Yeah. I even remember telling Daniel and Col. O'Neill how we'd
'MacGyvered' an operating system for the Stargate."
"And that's him."
"It has to be. That comment about the horse and the helicopter must have
been one of his assignments. How else would General Hammond know him?"
Sam paused, then added, "I wonder why he never mentioned that the colonel
had a double."
Jonas suddenly smiled. "Can you imagine Jack's reaction when he finds
out?"
The two locked gazes for a moment, understanding passing between them.
"Ah," Jonas said.
"Yeah," Sam replied.
"So," Jonas said as casually as possible (which wasn't very casual at
all), "is he married?"
Without looking at the file, Sam said "No, he's never been ma ... uh ...
why do you want to know?"
Jonas leaned back in his seat and opened his notebook again. "No
reason," he said, hiding a smile.
The in-flight phone buzzed, forestalling anything Sam might have said.
She picked up the receiver and listened. "Yes, sir. Yes, he is. Yes, I
will sir." She had no sooner hung it up when the intercom buzzed. "Yes?
Okay. Thanks."
"What?" Jonas asked.
"The security clearances have come through. And we're descending. We've
got priority one landing clearance. We'll be on the ground in 15 minutes.
I'll wake our guest."
Jonas speculated as he watched her go forward but, valuing Sam's
friendship more than the desire to satisfy his curiosity, he kept those
speculations to himself.
"Mr. MacGyver? We're getting ready to land."
Mac opened his eyes slowly. "Really? Okay. Thanks for letting me sleep
the whole way. I needed it." He sat up and stretched as best he could
while sitting.
"Actually, your clearances just came through. Your top security
clearance has been reinstated ... and upgraded. From here on in,
anything you see or hear can't be passed on to anyone, not even Peter
Thornton."
Mac rubbed his hand through his hair to more or less straighten it.
"You've done your homework, Major Carter."
"It's Sam."
"Sam? That's my son's name. If it's okay with you, I'll just call you
Carter ... not that there'd be *any* confusion between the two of you."
Carter smiled. "Carter's fine. Where were we?"
A tone from overhead drew their attention to the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign
that had just lit up. The major took the seat directly opposite
MacGyver.
"Where were we? Oh, right. You can't tell anyone about the Stargate."
"Stargate?"
"General Hammond is in charge of Stargate Command. The Stargate is a
piece of alien technology that allows transport to other planets
instantaneously."
"Other planets? You're kidding, right?"
"No, I'm not. Actually, both Jonas and Teal'c were born on other
worlds."
"Teal'c? I'll admit it's an odd name, but aside from being bald and
having that gold ... thing ... on his forehead, he looks like a kid I met
in a high school class years ago ... went on to play in the Canadian
Football League. You're telling me he's an alien?"
"Teal'c," Carter said, "maybe you'd better show him Junior. It might
speed up the process."
"Very well, Major Carter." The Jaffa lifted up his shirt and allowed his
symbiote to poke out of its pouch. After a moment, he lowered his shirt.
To MacGyver he said, "I trust you will accept what you have seen and
listen to what Major Carter has to say. Several lives depend on your
cooperation."
"Uh ... yeah," Mac managed to say softly. He shook his head and gathered
his wits. "Several lives?"
Sam nodded. "Our problem concerns the world designated PD8-735. SG-8,
one of our teams, has been captured by the local population and is being
held hostage. Apparently, they've heard of Col. O'Neill and they gave us
an ultimatum. They want him to come to their world to negotiate for the
release of the hostages. If he doesn't, the hostages will be killed."
"And you need me because ...."
"The colonel is on leave and we might not be able to find him by the
deadline. Mr. MacGyver ...."
"Just MacGyver ... or Mac ... Mac's fine."
"Mac, you're a near perfect double of Col. O'Neill. The General must
have remembered that and we want you to be prepared to go through the
Stargate with us and pretend to be the colonel."
Mac winced a little as that other shoe finally dropped. "Come on ... you
mean you don't have a good prosthetic make-up person who can turn one of
you guys into a double of this colonel? Or, hey, alien technology ...
what about alien technology? You gotta have *something* that can make
someone look like this guy."
"The Banti'ans are very careful and they have access to some advanced
technology themselves. We believe they'd spot anyone who doesn't
actually look like the colonel. You do. If we can't find him in time,
you're the only hope for the hostages."
Mac shook his head. "I knew you were gonna say that." He took a deep
breath. "Okay, what do I have to do?"
Sam noted the change in the engine pitch. "Right now, prepare for
landing. We won't say any more until we're inside the SGC. Not even the
guards outside the complex know what we do twenty-eight floors down."
<< I just *knew* I shouldn't have opened the door. >>
* * * * *
The HMMV pulled into the Cheyenne Mountain Complex and the four of them
walked quickly to the blast door.
"*That* is a big door," Mac noted dryly. "NORAD?"
Sam nodded. "We're in an entirely separate section of the mountain,
where they used to house ICBMs. Now the SGC uses it."
They entered an elevator and started down.
"So," MacGyver said, "tell me about this colonel I'm supposed to
impersonate."
"He's a few years younger than you, career military," Sam said. "A lot
of what he did, even before the SGC, is still classified. Special Forces
training, pilot ... hopefully neither of those will be necessary for your
deception to work."
"Let's hope not," Mac said. "I *do* know how to fly a plane," he added
helpfully.
They exited the elevator and walked down a corridor. At the end, Sam
signed them in and then they entered a second elevator.
"Kinda far down, isn't it?" Mac said, just the least bit claustrophobic.
"Security reasons," Sam replied.
"And it goes through solid rock to send people to other planets?"
"We're pretty sure it uses a wormhole. That's a ...."
"...a hypothetical tunnel through spacetime which would let travelers
ignore relativity," Mac said. "Cool."
"You know deep space physics?" Jonas asked.
"Not really," Mac replied. "I was a fan of 'Farscape' before it got
cancelled."
Jonas looked confused, Teal'c looked as stern as ever and Sam almost
laughed.
"It's a TV show," Mac said to Jonas and Teal'c in explanation. "I guess
humor really doesn't translate across cultures."
The elevator reached its destination. When the doors opened, Teal'c and
Jonas exited first.
"They really *aren't* from around here, are they?" Mac said softly to
Sam.
"No," Sam replied with a touch of humor in her voice as she exited the
elevator. "They really aren't."
"Whoa," MacGyver murmured as he followed. "Aliens."
A few minutes later, they entered the briefing room.
"Mac," said the general. "Glad you could make it."
"Well, you know why I came, George ... although I didn't think it'd be
for anything quite like this."
"I wouldn't have asked if lives weren't at stake. Will you help?"
"You know you didn't have to ask. I caught a nap on the flight, so where
do we begin?"
"Down to business? Good. We're, uh, going to have to cut your hair.
This is a picture of Jack O'Neill."
MacGyver looked at the picture for a moment then grinned wryly.
"Handsome fella ... hair's too short, though. Well, let's get to it."
Part 2
All parts are posted. The link to part 2 can be found under the cut-link or can be found by selecting the tag "multi-part story: stand-in".