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Rule One:
I understand that your team wants to borrow My Archaeologist. Everybody seems to want to borrow My Archaeologist. It only shows that you have good taste. How so ever... *If* you are able to actually con ... ah, persuade General Hammond into even considering letting you ask me to lend you My Archaeologist [the operative word there being ‘lend’. As in ‘very short term lease, all deposits paid up front and you *don’t* was to see the bill for the ‘damage deposit’] and you’re able to convince me that you can actually take care of him when he drifts off into the ‘Jackson Zone’, you will be required to fill out the appropriate form ‘DOD 214-17-1: ‘Request to Attach Essetential Personal For Limited Duration’. Anyone who *does* borrow My Archaeologist had better remember who they answer to if *anything* should happen to him.
Me.
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Rule Two:
Do *not* break My Archaeologist. You will bring him back in exactly the same shape... or better, than when he left the SGC or you had better give serious consideration to seeing if Aris Boch could use a business partner. Since it is assumed that you are requesting the loan of My Archaeologist because your require his professional expertise, I see no reason for him to be tasked with any duties outside his fields of training. Which means, no being shot at by hordes of screaming natives, captured by aliens [especially any of our ‘Allies’], stolen to be sold into slavery, drugged by a rampaging Goa’uld System Lord or any of the other simple little facts of life we here in Stargate Command have learned to take in stride.
He will not come back even slightly dented, bruised, contused or scratched or more confused than normal.
Dirty is okay... he seems to do dirty well. Must be part of the job description.
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Rule Three:
While he is attached to your unit, you are responsible for the care and feeding of My Archaeologist. You will make sure he receives nourishing meals on a regular schedule and that he is ‘strongly’ reminded that sleep is essential to keep both Archaeologists and their Colonels healthy and happy. No standing out in the rain, no baking in the sun, no climbing up the side of mountains. I don’t care how loud and long he begs and pleads. No caving in to his whims. Actually... no routing around in caves, for that matter. He has no idea what is or isn’t healthy for him when he’s digging in the dirt. Ah, excuse me... ‘performing an
on-site evaluation and excavation’.
And I’m not responsible if you can not cope with the ‘Little Archaeologist Lost’ look. You better get that one under control before you even come to me.
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Rule Four:
There is some rumor going around that, in order to ‘soften me up’ to aid in requesting the loan of My Archaeologist that you, your CO or any other member of your command should spend time talking about sports, ‘No Shit, There we were’ stories, and/or any other information that you think may place me in a receptive mood. Please do not waste your or my time by doing this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have My Archaeologist safely back to the SGC and my team, and then there is only one word that I consider acceptable on this subject:
"Early."
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Rule Five:
The following places are not appropriate for any ‘time outs’ or ‘down time’ with My Archaeologist when he is attached to your team:
* Anywhere there may be a bed, sofa, cot, or anything softer than a stone bench. Preferably a cold, damp one. With lots of soggy moss.
* Places where there is darkness, unless it’s really cold and dank and then you better be on the other side of the place looking for some heat source and *not* using the excuse of ‘shared body heat to stave off hypothermia’ to cop a cuddle.
* Places where there are ‘festive native parties’, ‘quaint native customs’ or anything that could be construed as promoting happiness in any shape or form. Happiness is right out unless said Archaeologist is with me.
* Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce My Archaeologist to wear cut-offs, tank tops, or anything other than a good old fashion Air Force issue ‘Mickey Mouse’ Arctic rated double zipper parka -- zipped all the way up to his nose. Again, as stated, unless he’s with me and then all bets are off.
* You are strictly forbidden to go within 1000 feet of any museum, library or university. Actually, if you can read a sign that indicates there just might be said museum, library or university in the area, you’re already pushing your luck.
* You will not engage in any talks about planets or cultures that involve ‘interesting mating rituals’ or ‘intriguing sexual conduct’. These are not on the ‘approved discussion list’. Conversations that start with “Did you see the teeth on that thing?”, “I’m telling you those spiders were the size of a rottwhiller...” or “No Shit! I did think anything could run with that many legs like that!” are perfectly acceptable. Showing of fresh wounds and scars is also allowed. Encouraged even. It never hurts to have a healthy awareness of your environment and where you stand in it’s food chain.
And why his CO wants to keep him on a tight leash in the first place.
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Rule Six:
You will not, under any circumstances, call My Archaeologist by any other name than “Dr. Jackson”, unless you have specific permission from me in writing and then ‘Daniel’ is considered acceptable. But only if My Archaeologist agrees. The use of “Danny”, “Geek”, “Dweeb”, “Plant Boy”, “Dr. Death”, “Resurrection Man”, “AnthroPuppy”, “Dr. Clueless” or *any* other term or identification is demeaning and degrading.
And my personal prerogative. So back off.
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Rule Seven:
I'm sure you've been briefed by Dr. Fraiser that here on Earth, and other places we visit, that ‘intimate’ or ‘delicate’ contact oneself and another life form without utilizing some method of "barrier" between you and said life form may put you at risk to catch all kind of diseases that can kill you. Let me elaborate: when it comes to any form of ‘intimate’ or ‘delicate’ contact with the life form known as My Archaeologist by anyone or anything, I am the barrier.
And I will kill you.
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Rule Eight:
If you are standing outside of his office waiting for My Archaeologist to appear and more than an hour has gone, do not sigh and fidget. It is ill becoming a professional military man and it makes you look like a wuss. If you and your team wanted to be on time for departure you should not be borrowing My Archaeologist in the first place. It’s simply that My Archaeologist has found ‘just one more thing I’ve got to look up before I can leave’. This is a process than can take longer than trying to understand one of Maj. Carter’s ‘short’ explanations. Instead of just hanging out in the doorway letting in the cold air and driving us both to homicidal tendencies, why don't you find yourself something useful to do in the mean time?
I prefer the ‘Meat Lover’s Special’ myself. Any good domestic beer will do, thanks for asking.
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Rule Nine:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your team coming back from a mission just a couple of minutes late for that of a full Goa’uld invasion of the gateroom. Why, just the faint scent of gunpowder, or, heaven forfend, blood, will throw me right into ‘combat mode’. When that post-traumatic stress disorder if mine starts kicking in, the voices in my head frequently tell me to make sure I clean my sidearm as I wait for you to return with My Archaeologist.
The best policy is: as soon as you clear the event horizon, you should exit the gate area with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought My Archaeologist back safely, and early, and retreat to your locker room.
Oh, by the way, the camouflaged face at the briefing room window ‘is’ mine.
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Rule Ten:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a graying, middle-aged, dimwitted old Fly-boy. But on issues relating to My Archaeologist, I am Shiva the Destroyer. I am the all-knowing, all-seeing, merciless God of your universe and the stuff your worst nightmares are made of. If I ask you where you are going, why and for how long, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a gun, a shovel, and a cabin in the wilds of Northern Minnesota with lots of empty land. Do not piss me off. You do not want a ‘Pissy Colonel’ [tm].
Just ask anyone on my team.
Or General Hammond.
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Rule Eleven:
You do not touch My Archaeologist in front of me. Actually... you do not touch My Archaeologist at all, but I’m counting on you being smart enough to know that by yourself by now without me having to remind you. You may look at him indirectly so long as you do not try to scope out any part of him below the collar line. You do not give me any indication that you want My Archaeologist for anything other than archaeology.
If you can not keep your eyes or hands off of My Archaeologist, I will help you by removing them for you.
Permanently.
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Rule Twelve:
Actually, probably the best thing you can do is to stay totally away from My Archaeologist. Period. No looky and no touchy. Definitely *no* touchy.
Go find your own.
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Submitted: 3 December, 1999
Signature: {awaiting signature}
O’Neill, Jonathan F., Col. USAF
Commanding, SG-1, SGC
Approved: {awaiting signature}
Hammond, G. Mgen, USAF
Commanding, SGC
cc: Jackson, Daniel M, Dr. SG-1, SGC
Carter, S. Capt., USAF SG-1, SGC
Teal’c SG-1 , SGC
Fraiser, J. MD, Capt., USAF , CMO, SGC
CO: All SG Units
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*** End ***
MAIN MISSION BRIEFING
RETURN TO SGC
MAIN BASE
