Teammates (a Stargate SG-1 fanfiction)

2: "New Assistant"

After Nyan's formal departure, I was given an assignment to join SG-1 as a consultant. Before this appointment to a temporary role, the colleagues at my office were already betting on me being promoted to Dr. Jackson's assistant due to my credentials and my proximity to him. (Of course, my closest colleague in our office often teased me about him. I'd always rebuff her.)

I saw the email announcing my assignment the first thing that day. However, I was confused. Yes, Dr. Jackson needed a new assistant, but why wasn't I just given that full role on-base and not off-world, instead of being assigned to only one mission? Was this a test drive and were they training me for off-world missions?

While thinking about it, I also surmised that it would mean a heavier workload and that I would have to give up some of my responsibilities. I played a major role in cultural resource management in the home base. But, I realized, I wouldn't mind the honor of working with Dr. Jackson - someone I deeply admired. With a deep breath, I arranged the front of my uniform, took a sip of water, and headed out to report to him in his office.

--

As he was one of the most senior, humanities-based SG personnel and a tenured member of SG-1, Dr. Jackson had his own office - as opposed to us who shared a big room where we had our own cubicles. I walked past the concrete-walled halls of the SGC to find his place. 

The huge metal door was open, and it was propped in place by a small box of books. I'd never been to his office before. Nervously, I took a deep breath once again and knocked.

"Come in," he said. 

I entered, and with a quick glance, I took in the military-industrial interior of the room lit by hanging lamps with cold, white light. The room was lined with shelves of books and ancient artifacts. Reconstructed vases, weapons made of metal and stone, tribal masks, and even an ancient lute were presented in prominent places on the walls and shelves. There was also a table with potsherds strewn over it, waiting for the archaeologist to reassemble them. He had a treasure trove here; a homey, academic office in contrast with the severe gray walls of the mountain base.

A computer with a pattern of hieroglyphic figures walking the Egyptian as its screensaver also stood facing the door. I smiled and relaxed seeing it, seeing a new playful side to this Egyptologist I now worked for.

"Hello, Dr. Zaragoza," he said, looking up from his desk. He was in the process of leafing through a pile of papers and books, holding up several papers with both hands. I noticed he was not yet wearing his uniform, and was instead wearing a checkered polo and blazer. 

In a flash, I remembered how young I thought he looked - like a young professor surrounded by everything he loved to learn about, and endowed with a boy's curiosity and energy to explore everything he wanted. He still looked younger than 25, though he was logically older than he looked, and he had started growing out his hair again... I blinked, slightly embarrassed to have noticed this.

"Hey, Dr. Jackson," I said. "Wow, it's like a museum and library rolled into one here!"

He laughed. "It's the only museum and library you'll find on this side of Cheyenne," he said. "Have a seat."

I took the office chair in front of his desk. There was a blackboard to his right, and I noticed it had large prints of neo-Assyrian cuneiform taped to it, with adjacent transliterations and translations to English. I spotted a curiously familiar word - or rather, name - but before I could mention it, he spoke first.

"So, I wanted to talk to you in advance before we go on our mission together," he said, while pushing up his wire-rimmed spectacles and brushing his fringe away from his eyes. "If the records serve me right, your undergraduate thesis was on Armenian culture."