Warning(s): Minor language, maybe?
Pairing(s): None. Hints of some cannon pairings, perhaps, but this is not a romance story. Sorry.
Spoilers: Stargate up through the end of season eight.
Disclaimer: "Stargate: SG-1" and related characters and situations are the property of MGM Television Entertainment and Gekko Film Corp. No money changed hands and no copyright infringement is intended or implied.
Feedback: Heck yeah. I love reviews and I love reviewers.
Author's Notes: 1. early on in this story I mention a plant called kudzu. For those unfamiliar with it, kudzu is a plant that was introduced into the Southeastern United States as an import from Japan. It was an addition to someone’s garden. Sadly, the owner of said garden failed to keep the kudzu under control and with no natural predators in the US, the plant grew like crazy. It got out of control and exploded all over the South. You can find it all over the place, and being from Alabama, I couldn’t resist.
2. I don’t care what Season 8 says, Walter’s last name has been Davis for seven seasons and it’s still gonna be Davis in my story. I’m having none of that “Harriman” crap.
3. The where-everything-is bits come from StargateWiki. a wonderful and brilliant website, which I highly recommend.
4. I know that the Coburn character has kind of fallen by the wayside, but I really like the actor so Coburn gets to be in my later on story. I’m also promoting him. :)

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Brigadier-General Jack O’Neill was bored. Bored was not good. Anytime he got bored, unspeakably bad things happened shortly afterwards. He did not like bored. Of course, the only solution for bored was for some problem to turn up, which he liked even less. Problems meant paperwork, and he hated paperwork. Maybe a small problem would have only a small amount of paperwork associated with it. That was it, he’d hope for a small problem. That would be so much better than bored.

Sadly, bored was only emphasized and punctuated by the fact that Major Paul “Pentagon-Liason-Man” Davis was sitting in his office droning on about security procedures regarding off-world life-forms. Either that or the new rule at O’Malley’s that banned anyone from the SGC from going there. Probably the first one.

“…and you do realize that the alien plant last year could have become an environmental hazard to make kudzu look positively benign? General, ‘glowing things are bad’ is not a good enough revision of the off-world safety protocols.”

Yeah, the first one. “I know.”

Davis stopped and blinked at him. “You know?”

“Yeah, that’s why I only gave you that to get you and the Joint Chiefs to leave me alone for a week or so. The first amount of time suggested to me wasn’t nearly enough to draw up suggested revisions,” Jack told him. “I’d only managed to draw up safety procedures regarding technology. Biological and human threats to security…? Whole different ball of wax.”

Davis blinked a few more times. “Oh.”

“Walter helped. And Siler. And Sam,” Jack told him. “Anyway, the new proposed safety measures are here, in this folder. Care to look?” Jack picked up said blue folder from his desk and waved it temptingly towards Major Davis. He nearly ruined the whole effect by laughing at Davis’ obvious attempts to stifle his impulse to snatch the folder from his hands. Jack could practically see Davis’ brain silently chanting that telling Jack he was behaving like an idiot was not a good way to curry favor with superior officers.

“I would very much like that, sir,” Davis finally managed.

Taking pity on the poor major, Jack laid the folder down on the other side of the desk and assumed a non-threatening and relaxed posture in his chair. Major Davis was very regulation because of his job. It wasn’t really fair to bait him.

Davis looked at the proposed new regulations and his eyebrows went up. Jack enjoyed watching this, but maintained a polite silence. Finally Davis said, “These are good, sir. The technological containment alone would make everyone at the Pentagon feel better.”

“Feel better?” Jack asked curiously.

“Um…yes, sir,” Davis said, squirming a little.

Jack opened his mouth to say something reassuring but just at that moment the SGC’s all-to-familiar klaxon burst into its irritating little song and the other Davis’ voice came on over the PA.

“Unscheduled off-world activation,” Jack and Davis muttered in sync with Walter. Both of them stood up and went through the Briefing Room and down the stairs into the Control Room.

“Receiving IDC, sir,” Walter informed them. “It’s SG-1.”

“Open the iris,” Jack said. His former teammates were back about twenty minutes earlier than they had been scheduled to return and so he wasn’t particularly worried.

The iris had opened and the Stargate rippled, but Jack missed seeing his team completely for almost a full ten seconds. When he did spot them, he thought for a moment he’d gone insane.

“Do you see them down there?” Jack asked.

“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Davis nodded. The SFs in the Gate Room were standing down and staring in amazement as SG-1 picked their way down a ramp that had suddenly become very difficult for them to manage.

They had all been shrunk to about six inches tall.

“Sir!” a voice, presumably Sam’s, announced over the radio. “We’re going to be exhausted getting to the Infirmary without help.”

Jack stared at the radio receiver with a huge grin on his face. Sam sounded like a chipmunk on helium. He went for the radio at first, but then flipped over to the PA for the Gate Room, unsure if the volume on SG-1’s radios would be overpowering given their present size. It wasn’t likely, but he didn’t want to risk it. “Welcome back, SG-1. Sergeant Lyman, have your men assist SG-1 to the infirmary.”

The head of the SFs nodded at the Control Room as he and his men assisted their shrunken comrades.