Fic: 'A Science Fiction Showcase' (Stargate SG-1/Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, gen, G, 1/1) Title: A Science Fiction Showcase Fandom: Stargate SG-1/Mighty Morphin Power Rangers Characters: Jack O'Neill, Adam Park, special guest appearance by Hammond Word Count: 1041 Rating: G Spoilers: AU version of season 8, I suppose. Alludes to Power Rangers Zeo and Turbo. Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: AU. Jack has to interview candidates for a position with the SGC.
A Science Fiction Showcase
"I'm not exactly sure why I have to be the one to do this, sir," Jack said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs on top of the table.
George refrained from sighing, if only because the sigh was pretty much unwritten in any interaction the two of them had. "Colonel," he began, then thought better of it, "General O'Neill," he'd never get used to that amendment, but the way Jack's cheeks lifted a little at the new title amused George, "you're the one who wanted to leave SG-1 to move on to bigger and brighter things—"
"Retirement, sir. Finally."
"Be that as it may, it's only fair that you decide who takes your place."
"But that's so... time-consuming. Can't Daniel or Carter do it?" Jack kicked his feet off the table and sat up suddenly, clearly struck with an idea. "Hey, there you go. One of them can just take over SG-1." He clapped his hands in satisfaction.
"Given Colonel Carter's recent promotion, the thought has crossed my mind," Hammond agreed. "Her loyalty, intelligence, and field capability is unquestioned. And she certainly has demonstrated her ability to lead. But even so, you need at least four members to the team."
"That's a stupid rule, sir."
"You're not getting out of this, Colonel. Consider it your last official mission."
Jack, on the other hand, could sigh all he wanted, and abused this privilege now. "Fine. But for revenge, I'm hiring a break dancer."
Adam Park shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and waited for his interviewer to enter the room. He hadn't really gotten a chance to tour the facilities, but if you'd seen one underground headquarters, you'd seen them all.
The door opened, and a guy with salt-and-pepper hair and a bored look brushed past Adam to sit down at the desk. He had a stack of file folders in his hands, and he popped open the first one before even making eye contact. "Adam Park. Engineering degree from Cornell—" here he looked up, "You can engineer?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, sir," said Adam hastily. The Brigadier General's expression certainly didn't indicate that he was impressed at all; instead, he seemed decidedly disinterested.
"Right. Well, could always do with a few more hands. Or something. I guess." He lifted the folder up and studied its contents. "Huh... originally from Stone Canyon, California?"
Stone Canyon was the sort of place where no one asked about it unless they knew someone who lived there, usually a friend of a friend who went to the university. Still, Adam decided to seize on this name recognition, and leaned forward slightly. "Yes, born and raised."
The general lowered the folder. "Never heard of it."
Defeated, Adam sat back again. The guy was either oblivious, or completely toying with him.
"Mister... er, Park," he had to check the file, that couldn't be good, "I'll be honest with you. No one's made it this far that wasn't military. You even hearing about the SGC is... well, it's unusual. Why are you qualified for this position?"
Ranger Law, though unwritten, was fairly simplistic in its few rules. Fight evil, don't abuse the power, don't tell people who you are. Adam had had some difficulties in the past —there was always going to be the situation where you were backed into a corner— but he took it just as seriously as anyone else ever had. Still, he was long into 'retirement', and when he'd discussed it with the Rangers he could still contact regularly, they'd given permission.
"Sir, I'm a Power Ranger."
The general braced his forearms on the desk and tilted himself towards Adam, wearing a slack-jawed expression that befit him quite well. "A what now?"
"Power Ranger, sir. Well, I was." Adam shifted slightly, pulling the manila envelope from his otherwise empty messenger bag that had been checked twice on every level he'd descended into, three times on this one. He pushed it across the desk, facing the general, having no need to see it himself.
The general's interest was at last piqued, and he thumbed through the contents of the folder with raised eyebrows, the furrowing of which changed from meaning 'what the hell' to something resembling 'wow'. "These are giant robots."
"Zords, sir."
"And you... manned these?"
"Yes, sir. The Lion Zord, the Frog Zord, Zeo Zord IV, and the Desert Thunder Turbo Zord."
"Frog?"
It was not Adam's proudest accomplishment. He was not surprised the man would seize on that of all things. "Yes, sir."
"Hmm." The general resumed studying Adam's folder. "At least you weren't wearing pink." Adam was debating whether it was a wise move to respond, but the general closed the folder and looked up. "You guys fought moon witches and stuff, right?"
Adam nodded curtly, refraining from mentioning that it had been slightly more complicated and intense than 'moon witches and stuff.'
"So you'd be okay with travelling to other worlds?"
"I've done that already, sir."
"I see." But it was an 'I see' that at least sounded affected by Adam's various accomplishments. "Can you fire a gun?"
"Better with lasers than bullets. Martial arts is mostly my forte."
"Hand-to-hand. Could come in handy," the general remarked thoughtfully to himself. He gave Adam a sort of once-over. "Are you good with languages?"
"A little. I speak English and Korean fluently, and I took four years of Spanish in high school."
"Korean, huh." Once again, the general didn't seem to be speaking to Adam. "Daniel can't do that." He frowned. "I don't think." He slapped his hand down on top of Adam's accumulated files. "Okay, Adam, I think we've said all that we need to say." It sounded neither positive nor negative. "Thanks for coming in," he said, rising to shake Adam's hand, and Adam hastily scrambled to his feet to follow suit. "I guess I'm supposed to say we'll keep in touch." It was not a particularly promising comment.
Adam was feeling so dissatisfied with the interview that he couldn't stop himself for blurting, "Don't call us, we'll call you." In his defense, he regretted it the moment it slipped out.
The general's face, surprisingly, stretched into a grin. "Well, maybe, maybe not."