Free STARGATE SG-1: Do No Harm by Karen Miller

out.”
    Logan, Chagall and Aikeman. They’d be arriving sometime within the next twenty-four hours. Davies had declined. His mother was in hospital with complications from diabetes. Gangrene or something, and he was an only child. Sometimes life sucked.
    “Yes, sir. They’re good men. You won’t be disappointed.”
    Hammond nodded. “I’m sure that’s the case.” He sat back, his narrowed gaze intent. “You and your team are meeting us at a particularly difficult time, Colonel Dixon. We’ve lost too many good people — too many friends — of late. It’s very hard. The nature of this command, the work we do here, means my people form uniquely close bonds. Coming from Special Forces I imagine you can understand that.”
    “Yes sir, I can.”
    “You ready to step through the Stargate, Colonel?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to it.”
    “I thought you might be,” said Hammond, smiling sharply. “After a while, reading the mission reports is like showing a starving man a menu and telling him,
Gee there’s some fine food in the world, ain’t t here
? Comes a time when a starving man wants to sink his teeth in the steak for himself.”
    And it wasn’t until Hammond said it that Dixon realized it was true.
    Huh. All this time I’ve been friggin’ jealous…
    “But for all its miracles the Stargate has its downside,” Hammond added. “As I’m sure you know. Colonel, I need to ask you a blunt question.”
    He knew what was coming before Hammond said another word. “Ask away, General.”
    “Given the circumstances of Colonel Cromwell’s death last year, is it going to be a problem if I assign you to SG-1?”
    A problem? Hell no. He had his fingers crossed for exactly that. But he had no intention of saying so to Hammond. Instead he shook his head. “Sir, as far as I’m concerned there were no ‘circumstances’.”
    Hammond’s narrowed gaze was piercing. “Cards on the table, Colonel. I’m aware you and Cromwell were good friends. I’m also aware he and O’Neill were not. At least not at the time of his death. I take it you know that?”
    He nodded, his expression severely blank. “Yes, sir.”
    “So I’ll ask you again, Colonel Dixon: is this going to be a problem?”
    He shook his head. “Due respect, General Hammond, the relationship between Colonels Cromwell and O’Neill is in the past. Furthermore it’s none of my business. I’m just here to do a job. You can trust me to do it.”
    Hammond’s expression didn’t change but a shadow of tension in his eyes faded, slowly. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m sure I can.” His gaze shifted, then, focusing on something beyond the glass window in his office wall. His pale eyes narrowed again, briefly, and his hand came up in a beckoning gesture.
    The general’s other office door opened, and Jack O’Neill walked in from the briefing room.
    “You hovering out there for a reason, Colonel?” said Hammond, genially enough… but with the faintest hint of a bite.
    “Hovering?” said O’Neill, sounding faintly shocked. “Was I hovering, sir? I had no idea.”
    So. O’Neill was going to play the clown, was he? Dixon considered him, changed out of his dress blues into rumpled, well-worn fatigues.
    Frank had always said,
If you’re not careful he’ll have you thinking he’s auditioning to play Ronald McDonald. But the goofier he is, the closer he’s studying you
.
    Hammond just shook his head. “Since you’re unlikely to be of any help to Major Carter, Colonel, perhaps you’d care to show Colonel Dixon around his home away from home.”
    An explosive silence. Dixon, chagrined, saw the echo of his own feelings reflected in O’Neill’s suddenly opaque eyes. He turned to Hammond.
    “There’s no need, sir. I’m sure Colonel O’Neill — ”
    “Would be happy to oblige,” said O’Neill, just as suddenly expansive. “Come on, Dixon. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard my tour guide spiel. In fact I’m thinking of taking