“Send him in.”

“Mr. President, we really don’t have time.”

Harry Hayes glared at his chief of staff over the rim of his glasses. “This man is in charge of our first line of defense against things which we can’t possibly begin to imagine. I think I can spare him ten minutes for a face-to-face.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Hayes removed his glasses and tossed them on top of the pile of reports still waiting on his desk and sighed. What good was having the big office if your entire life was in the hands of a high-level flunky armed with a really expensive day planner and a stopwatch? The world wasn’t going to come to an end because he was twenty minutes behind schedule. If it was… someone would have told him.

The door opened again and Hayes stood up.

In fact, Hayes reflected, news of any impending global destruction would probably be delivered by the man who was just now walking through the door. Two steps in, his visitor snapped to attention and saluted.

“General O’Neill, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Mr. President,” O’Neill returned. He lowered his hand but remained ramrod straight – every inch of him tautly stretched; his eyes resolutely forward; his face an unreadable mask. “It’s an honor to be here.”

It was said with as much enthusiasm as “Sure, I’d love to have my prostate examined now, doctor.” Hayes ignored it and gestured toward a chair.

“Have a seat, General. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” Hayes nodded at his chief of staff. “You can leave us,” he ordered, silently daring the man to look at his watch. He was almost disappointed when he simply nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him.

“Mr. President, I understand. To say that you are busy man is an understatement.” O’Neill moved to the chair but waited until Hayes sat down before taking a seat without marring a single crisp line of his dress blues. He balanced his cap on his knee and waited silently.

“You must be quite busy yourself. I know from personal experience that a transition of power is a nightmare of paperwork.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

The conversation lapsed again.

“Well,” Hayes said when it became obvious the General was perfectly willing to spend his ten minutes in the oval office admiring the view outside the window. “Let’s cut the bullshit shall we? I’ve got a feeling that I didn’t get your vote in the election.”

O’Neill’s gaze flickered briefly and Hayes was sure he saw the man’s lips almost twitch into a near smirk.

“I was… out of town anyway. Kinda forgot to send my absentee ballot but you’re correct Mr. President,” O’Neill said, abandoning his neutral tone and imbuing the title with just a hint of contempt. “You weren’t my first choice.”

“You weren’t mine.”

O’Neill shrugged. “I doubt I was at the top of anybody’s list.”

“You might be surprised, General. You have your share of supporters. General Hammond was particularly vocal.”

“The general is a generous man. I’d hand it all right back to him in a heartbeat,” O’Neill said. “All you have to do is say the word.” Hayes wondered if the insouciance was real or feigned.

“You don’t think you’re the right man for the job?”

“I’m not sure it’s the right job for the man,” O’Neill answered. “To be honest, Mr. President, I’m used to being out there. I don’t have the patience Hammond has for politics and paperwork.”

“I need him here. I’ve had time to rethink the decision about putting the SGC in the hands of a civilian and finding military personnel with the skills and experience needed for the work you people do in that mountain is harder than you might think. You were on a very short list, General O’Neill.”

“Weir was getting the job done.”

Hayes nodded. “Sure, sure she was but running a fully operational SGC is a different kettle of fish and the Atlantis project is more her cup of tea really.”

“Mr. President, I hope you realize we have no way of knowing what those folks are going to face out there. We’ve tripped over enough badness right here on our own galactic doorstep. Every scientific egg head we have working on the project tells us the odds are good that it will be a one-way trip.”

“Do you doubt Weir’s ability to handle the mission?”

“No. She’s putting together a team that should be able to handle any contingency. I’m just pointing out there are a lot of possible contingencies out there.”

“Do you wish you were going in her place?”

“We have some unfinished business with the Goa’uld, Mr. President.”

“Yes, there is that.”

“Speaking of that,” O’Neill continued. “I expect the SGC to resume full operations once the Atlantis project is underway.”

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“I’m making a recommendation. Right now my people are fully committed to preparing for the Atlantis expedition and while I fully support the project and understand the potential benefit it may bring… every moment that passes without SG teams out there gives the Goa’uld more time to shore up their power. We’ve been shut down since Antarctica. It’s time to saddle up, Mr. President.”

“That’s a bit gung-ho isn’t it?”

“That’s eight years of experience with the Goa’uld, Mr. President. It’s why you hired me… isn’t it?”

“There are those that say you and your team are responsible for a lot of our problems with the Goa’uld.”

“With respect, Mr. President, Robert Kinsey is an asshole.”

Hayes laughed. “You’ll get no argument from me about that, General. You know what they say about politics and strange bedfellows. He convinced influential people that he was an asset to the ticket and they managed to convince me despite my initial objections.”

“Hammond suggested as much but the fact that you let yourself be convinced doesn’t exactly win you my vote.”

“We all have our weak moments, General. There’s something you should know. I understand the reason for your dislike of Kinsey goes way beyond any personal differences. If revealing his actions toward Hammond and his grandchildren to the public would do more good than harm, I’d call the press conference myself.”

“I know the feeling,” O’Neill admitted.

Hayes studied the man across from him for a moment and suddenly it came to him.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” He saw the answer in O’Neill’s eyes. “You dug up the information that was on that disk.”

“I had help.”

“No wonder Kinsey gets irrational every time he hears your name.”

“He was irrational before he ever met me, Mr. President.”

“Good point,” Hayes conceded. “Still, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when he got the news about your promotion. I can just imagine his reaction.”

O’Neill grinned. “Carter said the same thing. We decided it was a pro.”

“A pro?”

“You know… pros and cons of accepting command of the SGC.”

“You discussed the pros and cons of accepting the job with Colonel Carter?”

“With my team,” O’Neill clarified.

“I take it there were more pros than cons?”

“Depends on your point of view, Mr. President.”

“That’s certainly true.”

The door swung open and his chief of staff edged his way inside the room.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. President, but your schedule—”

“Yes, I know!” Hayes snapped back. O’Neill was already getting to his feet. “I’m very sorry, General. I wish we had more time to talk. Perhaps the next time you visit D.C. we can arrange a longer visit?” Hayes rose and walked around his desk. He stuck out his hand and O’Neill grasped it firmly; they shook briefly.

“Yes, Mr. President. Thank you for your time. I hope you got what you wanted from our meeting.”

Hayes smiled at O’Neill’s forthrightness.

“It was a start, General. It was a damn good start.”

O’Neill nodded and left the room without a backward glance. Hayes watched him go until he disappeared around a corner.

It had been a good start. He had a gut feeling about O’Neill. He’d first felt it when he’d read the man’s mission reports. His willingness to set aside his own safety by accepting the download of the knowledge of the Ancients had only deepened the feelings of respect Hayes had for him.

But was O’Neill really the right man for the job of running the SGC? O’Neill hadn’t tried to hide the fact that he had his own doubts and reservations.

It wasn’t a decision he was prepared to set in stone based on a ten minute meeting. He had a feeling Jack O’Neill was not a man you could understand in such a short amount of time. He needed to see the man in action… give him a chance to come to terms with his new position and decide first for himself whether or not it would be permanent. Hell, O’Neill just might make the decision for him.

“Mr. President, your motorcade is waiting.”

Hayes nodded. He picked his glasses up and slipped them into his inside jacket pocket. For now, any questions about the wisdom of putting the fate of the planet in the hands of the wild card that O’Neill represented would have to be set aside.

Duty called.

And time would wait for no man – not even the President of the United States.