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 Training With SG-1

 "…Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends
Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends…"
Written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney
Performed by Joe Crocker

Prologue

When the call came, he was almost too surprised to believe it. He’d made the request months prior, had filled out the paperwork…how the American military and their government loved paperwork! Even the Bedrosians didn’t insist on more than two copies of any given document. The United States Air Force, however, demanded two copies, each in triplicate; the top form sent to the actual named recipient, the pink form to the commander of the unit involved, and the yellow form to be filed in case the pink form was lost. How that could happen was beyond him; although, he thought with a soft sigh, he was an archaeologist, not a…what was the term Sergeant Detrick used? Oh, yes. Paper-pusher. He wasn’t a ‘paper-pusher’.

He even tried to tell himself he understood the hesitation of the government for which he worked. He’d sworn loyalty. He’d even gone through the process of becoming a naturalized citizen, although the paperwork for that had been even more tedious. He simply couldn’t admit that he was Bedrosian, from a planet known as Bedrosia by the occupants of said planet. Or that it was listed with the secret Stargate Command as P2X-416. His lack of a social security number, birth certificate, and all the other necessary documents that proved one was a citizen…that one existed, had been met with disbelief, until those who needed to fill out the required forms to get those documents were ‘read into’ the fact that he was an alien. An honest-to-god, not from planet Earth alien. He still chuckled about that, especially when going to the theater to watch the ‘alien’ films with Detrick. (His favorite by far was "Mars Attacks", a comedy so ridiculous that he’d been obliged to watch it three times before finally ‘getting’ all of the humor that filled each unbelievable minute of the film.)

His thoughts shifted slightly as he waited for the elevator, to the man who had introduced him to movies, delighting in sharing the worst of the lot with him. John James Detrick. The first man he’d met when he’d arrived at the facility known as Area 51. A young man with bright red hair, kind brown eyes, and a welcoming smile that had warmed him to his very soul. Detrick, as he preferred to be called, as he disliked both his first and middle names, had been assigned to help the alien from Bedrosia learn his way around the secret base; the rules, regulations, and even the societal mores of his new home. The two men, so completely different in numerous ways, became friends almost immediately. It had been Detrick who had encouraged him to make the request.

He hadn’t been so certain, but before he knew what was happening, he was studying for the citizenship test. The history of the country, of the planet, had fascinated him since his arrival. Once he’d mastered reading English, and with the skills Detrick taught him for being on the internet, he’d devoured all he could find on the history of the world…ancient, modern…he learned it all. Detrick had argued with him when he’d stated his viewpoint on many of the major events, particularly the world wars. The arguments had been exhilarating…and had always ended with the two of them agreeing to disagree. Because of all the studying he’d already done, he’d passed the test easily. Detrick had been with him when he’d raised his hand, one of nearly one hundred others who were being naturalized that day. He hadn’t felt any overwhelming sense of patriotism, as those around him had seemed to feel…and proudly displayed. He had been confident that his request would now be met with approval. Or at least not refused out of hand.

But now…the doubts were almost overwhelming. The fear that he was being told ‘no’ was louder than the hope that his request would be accepted.

The elevator doors opened, and he corralled his wandering thoughts. He tapped on the door of the unit commander’s office. "Colonel Johnson?"

The older man looked up. "Nyan! Come in."

With a nod, he entered the room, and stood stiffly in front of the desk. He didn’t have military training, but he’d watched and learned. And in an attempt to ‘fit in’, he’d tried to follow ‘protocol’ as much as possible, mimicking the behavior of the trained soldiers.

The colonel noted the man’s stance and hid a smile. For someone who had literally come from another planet, Nyan had learned quickly, and did his best to behave the same as those around him. In fact, Nyan was probably the best ‘non-com’ he had…and the scientist wasn’t even in the military! "I have a response to your request for transfer. Comes directly from the President."

Nyan swallowed. Then took a deep breath. "Yes, sir?"

"Pack your bags. You’re heading to Colorado."

He could feel the wide grin on his face, even as his heart began to pound. "Thank you, sir!"

"Don’t thank me," Colonel Johnson replied candidly. "I wanted to keep you here."

Nyan took the words as the compliment they were intended to be. "I appreciate that, sir. But I’m an archaeologist by training. What I’m doing here-"

"What you’re doing here is something a kid from high school could do," the colonel said. "Although, the new method for keeping track of the incoming artifacts has been incredibly helpful. As well as the spreadsheet for tracking the civilizations represented. That’s been rather interesting. Doctor Jackson insists that he get an updated copy every month."

Nyan smiled, thinking about the bespectacled archaeologist. The man he was most anxious to see, however, was the Jaffa, Teal’c. The man who had challenged him to take a stand. Who had insisted that he would rescue his friends, alone and blind if necessary, determined that he would not allow them to be killed by Nyan’s people. And who had refused to leave him behind, knowing that the Bedrosian government would kill him rather than taking a chance that he would spread the word that their enemies were right.

"You’ll be on the first flight out in the morning, oh-seven hundred. Gives you a chance to have breakfast with Sergeant Detrick before you leave," Johnson continued. Everyone in the department was aware of the friendship between the two men. The colonel rose to his feet, offering his hand. "It’s been an honor to know you, and work with you, Nyan."

The lump in his throat, as well as the suddenly blurry eyes, surprised him. He’d not realized that he’d become so accustomed to these people. Fond of them, even. "I’m the one honored, Colonel. If your people hadn’t allowed me to stay…" He shook his head. "I’ll be forever grateful for all I’ve learned here."

"You’re a good man, Nyan. It’s good to know that there are more folks like you out there," the colonel waved his hand toward the ceiling, "that keeps our hopes up."

"We will win the war against the Goa’uld," Nyan said confidently. "I’ve seen too much here, have seen the determination of the men and women who protect this country…this planet. It might take time, but we’ll win that war."

Colonel Johnson grinned. "With help from people like you, damned straight we will. Now, go on. Get outa here. I know you probably want to say goodbye to a few folks before you leave. Best of luck out there. And if you ever want to come home-" Johnson broke off self-consciously.

"It’s nice to know that I’ll be welcome here, if I decide to return," Nyan said softly.

Johnson gave a brief nod, which the Bedrosian returned. "Dismissed," he said. He cleared his throat as his voice broke slightly.

"Yes, sir. Goodbye, sir."

"Goodbye, Nyan."

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