'The Memo Conspiracy' - Introductions'

by tigermoth26 and nike

nvc425@hotmail.com/nikejohnston@hotmail.com

Beta read by: Sha_ure

Rated PG13 (language)

Category: Humour, action/adventure

Pairings: none

Spoilers: Stargate the movie

Disclaimer: Stargate is not ours.

Series: "The Memo Conspiracy"
Other parts to this series can be found at:
www.geocities.com/tigermoth26/conspiracy_frontpage.html

Notes: Thanks shaure the beta reader and Suzie Bagley, provider of planet lists.

Enjoy!

******


--------
August 15th, 1997
0745h EST


Special Agent Marian Shoe awoke to a big fat cliché.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh Damnnnnnnnnnnnnnn." She moaned, climbing out of bed
in search of coffee. Clothes were everywhere. A dress jacket here, a
hairbrush there. A suspicious looking pair of male underpants hung
from the end of the bed, and an even more suspicious looking note
was taped to the dresser mirror.

"Aw Shit." She mumbled, holding her head, wondering what on earth
had possessed her to invite Random Person in last night. She ripped
the note off the mirror and stuck it in an envelope along with the
suspicious underpants.

'Dear Bob,

You forgot your underpants.'

...and then shoved it in her handbag to put in the mail.

A glance at the led-light clock on the dresser informed her that if
she didn't get moving, she was going to be hella late. "Buggerit."
She muttered, racing through her wardrobe for something suitable to
wear. Hmmm, let's see...black, black, black, black and black.
Well...She mused, looks like we're going for black today.

Marian, dressed in a record time of sixty seconds, scooped up her
handbag and car keys and was on the go.



0530h EST

Special Agent Annie McLeod woke at 5:30 am. On the dot. It never
hurt to be up on time.

Rising promptly, she strode through the impeccably neat bedroom to
the impeccably neat bathroom, and from there to the impeccably neat
kitchen. Making herself a slice of lightly toasted bread (sliced
into two mathematically precise symmetrical halves with the aid of
the ruler she kept beside the sink) she poured a cup of mild coffee
(one teaspoon full of sugar, no milk)

After consuming breakfast, flipping through the morning paper and
taking a warm shower, McLeod strode, as she frequently did, to her
wardrobe, and selected an outfit from an array of suits - carefully
colour coordinated in shades of midnight-black, tar-black,
coal-black, Cilla-Black, and Meet-Joe-Black. Turning back to the
well-ordered bedroom (where it seemed unlikely that underpants ever,
or had ever, played a large part)
she retrieved her mobile phone, wallet, car-keys and, shrugging on
her long black overcoat as she exited, set out at exactly 7:00 am
for HQ.



0800h EST
DSA HQ
Earth

"Where the hell is Agent Shoe?" Roused The Boss Person, tapping
their politically correct fingers upon the polished wood of His or
Her big, shiny, Power Mongering desk.

McLeod, perched in front of The Boss Person, fidgeted: picking the
lint off her already impeccably tailored suit. Raising a sculpted
eyebrow she appeased, "I'm sure she'll be here any minute now, Boss"


The pair in the room looked up towards the door as they heard the
hurried thundering of high-heeled feet.

"Woaaaaaaah, shit! I mean, bugger! I mean, Damn! I mean....ah stuff
it." Agent Shoe exclaimed breathlessly as she screeched to a halt
just inside the door.

The Boss Person glowered at her from behind His or Her desk.

"How nice of you to join us, Agent Shoe. Now, Agents, if you would
kindly take a seat, we'll get on with the briefing."

Regarding her flustered colleague with disapproval as Marian dropped
into the seat next to her, Annie muttered "Busy night, then, waz
it?"

Marian cast her partner an Evil Glare, "Don't bloody ask."

Harrumphing to get the Agent's attention, The Boss Person stood up
from His or Her Dr.- No-Style leather swivel chair. "As you know, I
have a new, highly-classified, top-secret assignment for you." The
Boss Person cast a gleaming, beady eye over the two women seated
before the Power-Mongering desk. "What you see and hear here must
never leave this room. Once you accept this assignment, there is no
going back. After you study the details of this mission, it's all or
nothing. The line must be drawn here! This far, no further." The
Boss Person sank back into His or Her chair. "Now, listen with rapt
attention as I tell you about project code-name "Shipperdom", and a
little something we choose to call "The Memo Conspiracy....."






With prescise, politically correct movements of His or Her arm, The
Boss Person produced two nondescript manila folders from the
conveniently placed drawer in the Power Mongering Desk.

The folders, being nondescript, as they were, had emblazoned across
them the words:

'Defence Shipper Agency
Top Secret Information
Operation Memo Conspiracy
Project Shipperdom
Eyes Only'

"Ohh, that's just *begging* for trouble..." Mumured Marian, as the
two agents promptly flipped open the folders with a tandem
precision that could only have been borne from practice.

Conjuring up their twin expressions of 'rapt attentiveness', the two
Agents leant forward in their nondescript, black, leather chairs,
adjusting slightly to the slide of their tailored business suits as
the material found no hold.

THUD!

"Aw fuckit. My arse."

THWACK!

"Aww, jings. My bum."

The Boss Person waited impatiently as Shoe and McLeod regained their
precarious positions on the smooth leather chairs. He or She thought
randomly to His or Herself that they would have to have a word with
the secretary about purchasing some better furniture.

"So anyway, Agents, now that I have your complete and utter
attention, I will now begin the Briefing...


'...One year ago, a US Air Force team, lead by Colonel Jack O'Neill,
Went through a giant metal ring called the Stargate to a planet called Abydos,
In a galaxy which was far, far away...'



Special Agent Sarah MacOverusednom began working on Project
Shipperdom as soon as the Stargate Program re-opened. She went
undercover as a Lieutenant to gather information about the Shippy
Potential of the various members of the SGC..."

The Boss Person was interrupted by the randomness that was Agent
Marian Shoe.

"Uhhh, Sir? MacOverusednom? What is that? Irish? Welsh?"

"Scottish."

"Ah."

The unamused glares from her partner and The Boss Person served to
silence the rather...eccentric Special Agent. Sometimes, McLeod
thought to her highly intellectual self, Marian put back the
'Special' in Special Agent.

"As I was saying..." Continued The Boss Person, "...Agent
MacOverusednom found that the Colonel was a, and I quote...

"Total hottie. Hooboy! Bring it on!!"

similarly, Agent MacOverusednom described Daniel Jackson, the
civilian Archaeologist on O'Neill's team as...

"Cute, sexy, and definitely to die for!"


Shortly after the mission to Abydos, Doctor Jackson's wife was taken
hostage by Apophis, who happened to be one pissed off Goa'uld. Agent
MacOverusednom recommended that Captain Samantha Carter, a
theoretical astrophysicist who was also assigned to SG-1, would make
a perfect match for O'Neill. Unfortunately, MacOverusednom was
intercepted and killed by Anti Romo Agents before her plans could be
taken into action.

It is your duty, Agents, therefore, to carry on and complete the
objectives of MacOverusednom's plan."

The Boss Person turned to address Agent McLeod. "Annie, you and
Agent Shoe will be sent undercover to the SGC at Cheyenne Mountain
as the commanders of Operation 'Memo Conspiracy'. Your objective is
to intercept all memo communications between the SG teams, in
particular, Colonel O'Neill, and return with them to me for further
instruction." Boss Person paused for effect, languishing in the
chiselled looks of petrification on the female Agent's faces.

Agent McLeod made a facial expression which could be loosely
translated as 'is that all?', to which The Boss Person took a deep
breath, deciding evilly that He or She would enjoy throwing the
Agents into the Deep End.

"As I said, this mission is Top Secret. Once you get into the SGC,
you are on your own. You will be hunted at every turn by the Evil
Forces of the Anti Romo Alliance Agency (ARAA), Agents of the
Slashers Society (ASS),
and the Morbid Organisation of Rabid Entities And Sick Smarmongers
(MOREASS). The going will be tough. You may not make it through, but
that's what you're here for. You two have been selected for this
mission because we believe that you can, and will prevail. Through
your covert operation work, the Glory of Shippiness, will prevail!"

The Boss Person finished His or Her impromptu speech with a flourish
of His or Her hand. In the distance, Marian was sure that she could
hear a crowd cheer...

"Agents, you are dismissed."





August 18th, 1997
0900h EST
Cheyenne Mountain
Colarado Springs


The crunch of tyres on gravel signalled the arrival of the Agents at
the SGC. McLeod strode (as one does) delicately from her sleek,
finely polished sedan, and winced painfully as Marian tripped and
fell, rather ungracefully, all over the shiny bonnet of her perfect,
polished car.

"Friggin' hell." Maria grumbled, straightening the deep blue Air
Force uniform that the Agents had donned back at the DSA HQ. She
tipped her peak cap alluringly over her right eye and adjusted the
holster of her gun. "I feel so off-balance in this...*blue*...give
me a black pantsuit *any* day!"

Rolling her eyes, Annie commented "Colour notwithstanding, I'm
fairly certain the US Airforce approves of their officers buttoning
up their shirts *all* the way...and put your tie on for heaven's
sakes!" While Shoe reluctantly fastened the remaining top three
buttons of her shirt, grumbling that she'd merely thought the
on-duty guards patrolling the mountain's entrance could use a little
excitement in their otherwise mundane lives, McLeod produced a
black-leather wallet from her briefcase.

"Do you have your fake-ID?"


"Of *course* I have my fake-ID" Marian declared airily, with the air
of one who had been carrying a fake-ID since the age of 12.

"Fake *Air-Force* ID?"



0915 h EST

"Buggerit. I could've sworn I put it in here with everything
else...I had it *5* friggin' minutes ago when I had to show that
nice bloke back at the first check point......"

McLeod took stock of the objects thus far produced in their search
for the elusive ID card.

One lipstick, mascara, pocket mirror, tissues, condoms (ribbed, flavoured and neon-glow),
home- pregnancy kit, eyelash curlers, fountain pen,
Pen-That-Would-Explode-If-You-Clicked-It-A-Certain-Amount-Of-Times
(McLeod paused to wonder if the DSA scientists really *did* get a
lot of their ideas from too much beer and James Bond movies late at
night), certificate of completion of one home-abseiling course, a
half-eaten bag of sweets, a light rock CD, stamps, feathers, a
membership card to the Kennel Club, an abridged version of Joan
Collins' autobiography, a hairbrush, sunglasses, three separate ID
cards (identifying her respectively as an Agent of the DSA, a member
of Starfleet Command and a state senator), 150 American dollars and
an agency credit card, George Clooney's autograph (and phone
number), a stopwatch, plastic explosives and an envelope containing
one hastily scribbled note and a mysterious pair of underpants.

And no Air Force Identification.

"Listen, hen...if you've lost it, *you're* explaining it to the
Boss..."

Marian's face lit up. "Wait! Wait...I know where it is......" She
rushed back over to her own black sedan and flung open the door,
bending over to rummage in the glove-compartment, and providing the
outside world with a rather immediate view of her backside. It was
in this position that the mundane-live'd, on-duty guard at the
entrance to the underground complex discovered them.

"Uh...excuse me? Ma'am's?"

Narrowly avoiding whacking her head off the door frame as she shot
upwards, Marian flipped open her wallet to present the startled
guard with a picture of her face, not two centimeters from his nose.


"ID" she explained.

'Ahem'ing', McLeod stepped forward and flourished her own card.
Nervously, the young MP studied the two cards, eyes flickering from
the photos to the Agent's faces. "Captain's McLeod and...Shoe?" he
stammered.
Annie nodded briskly. Replacing the wallet in her handbag and
hoisting it up onto her shoulder, she cleared her throat again. The
Boss had prepared them thoroughly for this moment...first contact
with a member of the SGC.

**You must *think* American! You must *act* American! You must *BE*
American! Now...take these old John Wayne movies and learn....**

She scanned her memory for her lines, then extended a hand and
smiled.

"Howdy, pardner....."






0930h EST
Cheyenne Mountain
Stargate Command Complex
The Lift...unh...Elevator...Whatever.

"I bloody hate lifts." McLeod complained as the small metal box
'vooshed' downwards towards level 28.

"Elevators" Marian corrected, as she idly scanned the non-descript
folder and secret plans once again. "Now, according to this, we have
to go and see General George Hammond, who runs the place, in his
office above the control room and introduce ourselves." McLeod
rescued the tan folder from her grasp. Inside were several
blueprints of the mountain, with General Hammond's office and
Colonel O'Neill's office circled in yellow highlighter. And coloured
in, in pink highlighter. With little red arrows pointing the way.
And the words 'IN THIS OFFICE' lettered in black over the top. This
was not, the Boss had assured them, because He or She expected them
to get lost on the way down, but merely as a precaution. Honestly.
Plus, they were expected to learn them by heart, then set fire to
them. Plausible Deniability.

"A'right." Annie commented, slipping the folder back into her
inconspicuous black briefcase. They disembarked from the elevator,
looked around, and grabbed the first likely-looking flyboy they
could find.

"S'Cuse me." Marian drawled, " We're lookin' for General Haaammond?"

The officer nodded, and led them to the control room, pointing up
the stairs. "Up there and through the briefing room, Ma'am." he
informed her. Shoe smiled sexily and thanked him.
Rolling her eyes, McLeod gestured her upwards. "Well, here we go."
she intoned.

At the main computer console in the control room - unnoticed by
either agent - a chair swiveled round, and two dark eyes watched
them up the stairs, smiling menacingly.

' And so it begins...'


0935 h EST
Cheyenne Mountain
Stargate Command Complex
General Hammond's Office.

General Hammond sat regally at his desk, idly twiddling his thumbs
in a no-nonsense manner (as prescribed in the Air Force Manual of
Management. DI(AF)AAP 5110.001, chapter seven, paragraph nine.)
He had a lot of work to do, reports to write, officers to chargrin,
presidents to call, and memos that needed reading.


A well-thought out knock sounded at the door to his office. He
sighed, in the manner of a man who hath way too much work to do.
"Enter." He commanded, in his most...commanding General's voice.
Two female officers made their way into his sanctuary. One with
measured strides, and the other, with a slinky glide that made him
feel strangely warm on the inside...ahem. Not that Generals thought
about these things, of course.

"Captains McLeod and Shoe reporrrrting for duty, Sah!." Intoned the
striding one, whom now stood at attention next to her rather
uncomfortable looking counterpart, both of them looking rather out
of place in their blue uniform dress.

Sah? The General watched them bemusedly as they both snapped off a
pair of Australian salutes.
At the look of surprise on his face, he swore that he heard the
slinky one, Captain Shoe, say "bugger." under her breath, just as
the striding one, Captain McLeod, kicked her in the shin with
not-so-subtle grace.

"At ease officers." Hammond grumbled, "What can I do for you?"

Captain Shoe stepped forward and handed him a folder with 'Transfer
Papers' written boldly across the top.
"Sir, we are the new transfers from...The Pentagon! You requested
for us to be transferred here ASAP. Something about needing more
personnel?"

Annie glared at Marian quickly, "Whaaaat?" whispered the dark-haired
agent, before turning her eyes back to the General.

Hammond knitted his brows in thought, causing wrinkles of skin to
ripple across his bald head. Personnel? He couldn't remember ever
having requested extra personnel...let alone ASAP...oh well. They
were here now...best to act as if he knew exactly what was going
on...what with being an on-the-ball General and all.

"Ah, yes of course! Captains. Forgive me. I have a lot of work, your
transfer must have,..slipped my mind."
Ah yes, very diplomatic George. Tell the new intakes that you forgot
about them. Very well done.


If the women were offended, they didn't show it. With a grin,
Captain Shoe (who named these people, anyway?) withdrew her hand
from where he was currently shaking it and snapped off another
salute, and slinked out the door, followed closely by her striding
counterpart. "We'll just be off to work now Sir!"

"Captains, wait!" He called as they made their collective way out of
the door. They didn't stop. "I haven't given you your assignments
yet..."

The door slammed shut with a final smack. Hammon rubbed a hand over
his shiny scalp. What the hell just happened there?




Marian Shoe became the nearest target for her partner's fast-moving
briefcase. "Argh! Bloody oath, Annie! Watch what you're doing mate!"
An airman sauntered by, dark eyes twinkiling. "Ahem, I mean,
paaaaaaaaaaal" She drawled in her best attempt (attempt being the
operative word) at an American accent.

The other Agent glared. "You damned *Australian fool*" she declared
darkly, "what the hell were you thinking? Speaking to the General
like that? You could have blown our cover, acting the way you did!"





1003h EST
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
Stargate Command
Outside Colonel O'Neill's Office

The agents neared the office of one Colonel Jack O'Neill, whistling innocently so as not to attract attention as they passed by a pair of armed SF's. Behind them, a pair or dark eyes glittered, the evil within them holding the agents in their gaze like a rabbit in the crosshairs.

Annie whipped out her trendy ID card (which also doubled as a lock-pick), and swiftly opened the door, ducking inside and waiting for her partner to follow before deftly closing the door.

Out in the corridor, a pair of lanky legs stealthily moved over to the closed office door, beady eyes darting as the mysterious figure pressed an ear up against the door. The voices within spake thusly.....

"In the name a God....you'd think he'd organise his desk once in a while!"

Annie surveyed the scene before her with intense, focused disapproval of the special kind you can only develop through years of training in Special-Agency or the teaching of small children.

"So...what are we looking for?" she asked, turning to Marian, who had re-produced the non-descript DSA issue folder.

"Memos." Shoe replied. Annie folded her arms, piercing blue eyes cool. She looked pointedly at the desk, then at Marian, then at the desk again. Little yellow Post-Its sprinkled the room like confetti. A pile of them sat haphazardly on the edge of the desk, ready to be conquered. Richard Dreyfuss could have sculpted a passable mountain out of them...screw the mashed potatoes.

"Specifically." Annie said, scathingly.

"Anything pertaining to their next mission." Shoe answered, either cheerfully oblivious or choosing to ignore her Scottish counterpart. Either method worked fine. "So, this may take a little while......."


"Well, it had better not take too long." Annie commented, scooping up a handful of memos and settling ungracefully on the floor. "We don't even know when Colonel O'Neill's gonna be back, and the last thing we're needing's to be caught in his office going through his mail. *Or* his private magazine collection." she remarked pointedly. Marian, holding the aforementioned piece of...documentation aloft at arm's length (and squinting a certain way for full effect) attempted to look chagrined.

"The drawer fell open."

"Aye."




Outside, the mysterious figure smiled evilly, faced bathed in dark, overdramatic shadows. From a hidden pocket sewn into his Air-Force Uniform, he draw a small box, no bigger than a cigarette case, marked 'Plot Devices'. From this he extracted, in an appropriately menacing manner, a long, thin tool. Resisting the urge to cackle satanically - at least until he was out of earshot - he used it to direct a narrow beam of red light at the lock on O'Neill's office, which melted and ran like wax, welding the door shut. When the job was done, he switched the device off, replacing it in the case with several others not designed to belong anywhere on a product developed by the Swiss Army. As it settled back into its resting place, the lights glinted off the engraving on the inside of the lid...

Property of 'ARAA'



With an eagle's eye, Annie McLeod scoured every surface of the darkened office, searching for the elusive piece of paper that she and Agent Shoe had been sent to collect. Her searching hands drifted over to the large, grey bookshelf in the corner, followed closely by her wrists, forearms, and the rest of her body. The dust motes swirled and glittered as the DSA Agent drew nearer, eventually sweeping apart dramatically to reveal a small menagerie of meticulously folded paper aeroplanes.

Tomcats, F-16's, Falcon 900's...the list went on. Intrigued, Annie leaned closer to get a better view, inhaling more than her required portion of dust to last an entire lifetime.

*cough cough splutter!* "Agent Shoe, get over here, look at this!" She whispered, beckoning over the other Agent, who had been frantically trying to stuff the Colonel's magazine collection back into the desk drawer.

"What is it?" Asked Marian, still suffering from the after-effects of seeing the front covers of some of O'Neill's "educational magazines".

McLeod picked up one of the tiny paper creations and turned it over in her hands. "I don't know...they look like...paper aeroplanes."

"Hmmm." Marian said pensively. "Will it blow up if we try to dismantle it?"

Marian was treated with an incredulous stare from her partner, who went ahead and began to unfold the mysterious paper plane.


MINUTE
UNITED STATES AIR FORCE STARGATE COMMAND


COLONEL J. O'NEILL CO SG - 1

MISSION TO P3X - 593 DEPART 1030HRS EST

REPORT TO GENERAL G. HAMMOND 1000HRS FOR BRIEFING AND MISSION
DETAILS.


Realisation dawned upon the agents like...well...realisation...when they realised that...

"We found them!"

Yes, the two agents had finally found the elusive memos, and not a moment too soon, for the clichéd sound of polished boots came crashing rhythmically down the corridor outside. Swearing under their collective breaths (technically, Annie's comment paled in comparison to the colourful expletives which gushed from Marian's carefully painted lips, but that is a whole other story), the agents secreted away the memo-planes in Annie's briefcase and removed all evidence of themselves ever having been in there.

...That was, up until the point that they found that the door had been welded shut. From the outside.

"Jings!" Annie stated, squatting down with precise movements to run her thumb over the wax-like melted lock. The footsteps drew nearer, they were, in fact, almost outside the office door.

With their Special Agent skills kicking into action, the pair whipped out their stealthy black Special Agent Ass Kicking outfits and put them on, hastily zipping up the hi-tech, custom made, specially developed material,over their DSA-issued USAF Uniforms.

Given that the door was now totally defunct, the Agents saw fit to choose the second most obvious avenue of escape - the ceiling vent. Shoe and McLeod hoisted themselves stealthily up onto the Colonel's desk, using their tandem Special Agent skills to pry open the metal-grated air vent.

Marian grabbed the briefcase containing the secret files and the newly acquired memos and handed them up to McLeod, who had already situated herself inside the windiliy gusting air-vent.

Some bright spark on the other side of the door had begun to weld open the blast-metal door, heightening the sense of urgency that the Agents needed to escape.

"Come on Marian, let's go!" Urged McLeod, accepting the handbags from the other Agent, who promptly lifted herself up and into the air vent, just as the door was opened.



1217 h EST
DSA HQ
Earth


Two dishevelled, tired, and decidedly pissed-off Special Agents made their wind-blown way into The Boss Person's hallowed office, their collective sanities just *barely* intact.

The Boss Person tapped His or Her meaty fingers upon the polished surface of His or Her Great Big Shiny Power-Mongering Desk and eyed the appearance of the two Agents as they strode and slinked their way in.

Only this time, with considerably less stride and slink.

He or She steepled their meaty fingers together over the Power Mongering desk to address the Agents as they sat down *carefully* upon the chairs, and waited patiently for the inevitable

THUD!

"Aw Fuckit. My arse!"

THWACK!

"Jings! My bum!"

Agent McLeod was the first to recover, gathering up her fallen briefcase and withdrawing a crumpled piece of yellow paper. "Boss, phase one is complete. We have intercepted the first Memo."

The Boss Person reached out over His or Her Power Mongering desk and took the proffered paper from the windswept Agent's hand. He or She furrowed their manly...or womanly brows as He or She squinted to read the angry scrawl.

"Bob forgot his underpants?"

Agent Shoe flushed a deep red and snatched the note out of The Boss Person's large, boss-like hand and shoved it in her pocket, coughing feverently(fervently).

After casting a smirk at her embarrassed partner, Agent McLeod made quick moves to rectify the situation. "Ah Sir, I believe that I meant to give you *this* memo," the blue-eyed Agent again reached into her briefcase and withdrew another piece of paper, this one folded into the shape of a USAF military aeroplane.

The Boss Person accepted it carefully and cast His or Her eyes over the neatly typed words. He or She put the paper down, and looked back up at the Agents with what could have been a happy smile, if it were not for the glint of macabre joy that seemed to be shimmering there...

"Agents, Congratulations. You now have your first mission... Code Name: Emancipation."



1218 h EST
A Place Full Of Bad Guys
Earth


In a dank, dark, equally Power Mongerated office, the video tapes swirled. A lanky, evil shadow in USAF uniform grinned to themselves and cackled satanically.



And so...it begins...



THE END