Look out! It's end-of-year ficlet archiving season.
I think this was all ziparumpazoo's fault. Or possibly a-loquita's. Maybe both? It definitely wasn't my fault! *g* Anyway, I wrote it as bad-day entertainment for someone a while ago, and now I am archiving it here for posterity. Because posterity should be warned, don't you think?
Ahoy! It's The Dread Pirate Jack, and His Trusty Band of ... Grumpy People.
SG-1, Gen, Sam & Jack. Silly. Rated Teen but only for swears, I swear. 350 or so words.
Sam wonders where, exactly, she'd gone wrong.
She's always worked hard. Always followed the rules - at least when they made sense - and always, always excelled. What exactly was it about following that path that had led her here? Why did a lifetime of scientific education and military training land her on a beach on a planet in the butt-end of the galaxy hammering at a barnacle-encrusted piece of metal trying to fix a broken-down old boat?
Seriously, if she'd wanted to be in the Navy ....
Halfheartedly, she smacks the bent hinge again, then leans down to examine it. Maybe this time.
"Carter!"
She jumps a little as she looks up, startled by the loud, excessively jovial exclamation. "Yes, sir?"
"Got that rudder fixed yet?"
"Working on it, sir," she says with a sigh.
He smirks. "Not up to your usual standard, there."
She blinks. "Well, sir," she says, "I'm an astrophysicist. Generally, I fix things like spaceships."
"And motorcycles," he adds. "Power supplies. And there was that time you fixed Daniel's dishwasher."
"Spaceships." She draws the word out, as though speaking to a child. "Sir."
"I'm a doctor, captain, not a pirate?" he tries.
She throws him a look that she hopes reads as pure death.
"Right." He takes a step back and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just go ... talk to Teal'c, shall I?"
"Good idea, sir."
He takes a few steps away, then turns back to face her. "Hey, when you're done with the rudder ..."
She grits her teeth. "Astrophysicist, sir."
"Pirate, Cap'n Carter."
And now, in addition to the boat, she had to deal with a CO who was demoting her for his own entertainment. "Jackass," she responds, not quite under her breath.
"I heard that."
"Good."
"And that's Jackass, sir to you, Cap'n."
He walks off down the beach, singing a tune that's so off-key that it takes her a minute to identify it. When she does, she grits her teeth against the response she wants to give.
"Pirate king my eye," she mutters instead, quietly, and starts working again, still wondering what, exactly, she'd done to deserve being in this place right here.
Too bad banging on ancient, barnacle-encrusted metal isn't enough to drown out the sound of his song.
Ahoy! It's The Dread Pirate Jack, and His Trusty Band of ... Grumpy People.
SG-1, Gen, Sam & Jack. Silly. Rated Teen but only for swears, I swear. 350 or so words.
Sam wonders where, exactly, she'd gone wrong.
She's always worked hard. Always followed the rules - at least when they made sense - and always, always excelled. What exactly was it about following that path that had led her here? Why did a lifetime of scientific education and military training land her on a beach on a planet in the butt-end of the galaxy hammering at a barnacle-encrusted piece of metal trying to fix a broken-down old boat?
Seriously, if she'd wanted to be in the Navy ....
Halfheartedly, she smacks the bent hinge again, then leans down to examine it. Maybe this time.
"Carter!"
She jumps a little as she looks up, startled by the loud, excessively jovial exclamation. "Yes, sir?"
"Got that rudder fixed yet?"
"Working on it, sir," she says with a sigh.
He smirks. "Not up to your usual standard, there."
She blinks. "Well, sir," she says, "I'm an astrophysicist. Generally, I fix things like spaceships."
"And motorcycles," he adds. "Power supplies. And there was that time you fixed Daniel's dishwasher."
"Spaceships." She draws the word out, as though speaking to a child. "Sir."
"I'm a doctor, captain, not a pirate?" he tries.
She throws him a look that she hopes reads as pure death.
"Right." He takes a step back and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll just go ... talk to Teal'c, shall I?"
"Good idea, sir."
He takes a few steps away, then turns back to face her. "Hey, when you're done with the rudder ..."
She grits her teeth. "Astrophysicist, sir."
"Pirate, Cap'n Carter."
And now, in addition to the boat, she had to deal with a CO who was demoting her for his own entertainment. "Jackass," she responds, not quite under her breath.
"I heard that."
"Good."
"And that's Jackass, sir to you, Cap'n."
He walks off down the beach, singing a tune that's so off-key that it takes her a minute to identify it. When she does, she grits her teeth against the response she wants to give.
"Pirate king my eye," she mutters instead, quietly, and starts working again, still wondering what, exactly, she'd done to deserve being in this place right here.
Too bad banging on ancient, barnacle-encrusted metal isn't enough to drown out the sound of his song.