“Ambassador Huang is waiting for you in the briefing room, sir.”George took the cup, like he did every morning. Except this wasn’t like every other morning. Having Dr. Jackson held hostage by a Goa’uld was one thing. The S.G.C. had dealt with situations like this again and again with a success rate George was proud of, but being held hostage by a diplomat… The entire situation reeked of bad blood.From his office, he peered through the transparent star chart and into the briefing room, eyeing the ambassador warily. Huang sat at the table, staring intently at the Goa’uld communication device propped up in front of him. The man wore the same damn black suit he had on yesterday. George found that rather odd. Even the Chinese gave their diplomats hefty expense accounts.“Is there anything else you need, General?”George sipped his coffee. Black, two sugars. Simmons never failed. Young, smart, eager to please, the dark-haired lieutenant had the slight build of an upwardly mobile officer wise enough to keep in shape, yet humble enough not to request assignment to an SG team.
