Fic Post: "Press four to save" (G)
Title: "Press four to save"
Author: Rigel
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Disclaimer: Not mine (alas!) Don't sue!
Rating: (G)
Wordcount: 1775
Categories: Gen, Humor, Team
A/N: So, beanpot and I were chatting on AIM and she was telling me about her friends deciphering an unintelligible phone message and... heee! Fic has ensued *smooshes Bean for the muse inspiration*
"You have one saved message. Message recorded on Thursday the eighth of July at 1.45pm."
"Oh, hi Daniel. Umm, well I guess you're not in at the moment but I was hoping to catch up with you while I'm here… Ah, erm, no pressure or anything like that - maybe we can go out for a casual drink…or dinner if you like, I'm easy, ha! …Anyway I'm staying downtown at the, oh, but you can reach me on my cell. It’s five five five, oh six one, eight mphr zhhhm gaahn two. Hope to hear from you soon. Oooh! And it's Sabrina by the way. Sabrina Gosling - but I'm sure you already knew that."
"Okay, one more time." Jack chewed thoughtfully on a pencil as he twirled the chair he was seated on from side to side.
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose and then hit the play button on the answering machine. The blinking number one was beginning to look like some kind of frozen last second on a countdown clock for a bomb, and considering the person who had left the message it was a fairly apt analogy. Sabrina had 'handle with care' practically stamped all over her.
"Oh, hi Daniel…"
"You can skip this part. We all know she's in town by now."
"And easy."
He shot Sam a glare that spoke volumes.
"Hey, her words not mine!" She wrinkled her nose as she bared her teeth in a teasing smile.
"It’s five five five, oh six one, eight mphr zhhhm gaahn two…"
"Okay, that sounded like a nine, then maybe a two after that."
"No it was definitely a seven," Jack objected.
"Seven! That's two syllables, when there was clearly only one in that first number."
"It's a seven."
"It was a nine. If you listen you can hear it."
"I believe it may have been a five, O'Neill," Teal'c suggested evenly.
"I'll eat a pair of my own unwashed socks if it was a five."
Daniel scratched a finger along his jaw. It would almost be worth selling tickets to see Jack dine on a polyester and wool fiber blend, he was sure there would be more than enough people to fill a small venue. Maybe even a medium sized playhouse if he photocopied some fliers and hung them on some of the notice boards around the base.
"One more time then?" he asked, finger hovering over the rewind button.
They all groaned and Jack threw a crumpled ball of paper into the waste basket with an impressive hook shot flourish.
"Maybe I can try running it through a voice recognition program," Sam suggested. "We are sitting in the middle of a military base after all and have access to some pretty sophisticated software."
"Uh, wouldn't this fall under use of government property for personal gain?" Daniel raised an eyebrow.
Jack began to laugh and turned it into a cough when Sam turned around to give him a pointed look.
"Well…" She drew out the word and raised her shoulders in a shrug. "If anyone asks I can say it's a matter of National Security."
"Ha! Because of course Daniel getting laid is vital to the protection of our nation."
"Hey!"
"Sexual frustration can be a serious matter, O'Neill."
Jack did a very obvious double take. "Say what? Have you been watching Oprah again?"
"No." Teal'c gave a disdainful sniff. "It is known to all Jaffa. Sometimes it is necessary to relieve oneself with the use of…"
"Okay, okay. There's such a thing as TMI there, buddy."
Sam had turned bright red with repressed laughter and was endeavoring to keep a straight face as Teal'c scanned the room with a gimlet-eyed expression.
"Anyway, back to National Security," Daniel said, attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters. "I can just imagine a squad of marines kicking down Sabrina's door in six month's time demanding to know the whereabouts of Osama and his mountain hideaway."
"That wouldn't happen."
"Nope, she'd just be flagged as a person of interest and have a team of crack experts assigned to poring over her trash and reporting on the significance of her choice of Tide as a washing powder and how that relates to the latest chatter intercepted over the wireless."
"Haha, Jack."
"I've seen it happen, what--?" He broke off to make an innocent expression at Sam. "Kawalsky always loved talking about the neighbor that almost caused an international incident when he switched phone providers. Although, that case was more to do with the fact that some person up the chain of command had accidentally written his name down with one 'S' instead of two."
He frowned to himself. "And believe me, spelling is important. I'd know."
Sam rolled her eyes and made her way over to the computer on Daniel's desk. "It’s just a matter of finding the right algorithm and then running the data through an analysis matrix so you can see all of the correlating points to known voice samples. Look, I'll pull it all up from the mainframe." She began tapping a string of commands onto the keyboard.
Daniel exchanged glances with Jack and they both shrugged. Teal'c watched them, a smile hovering at his lips as he picked up a small statue from a shelf and turned it over in his hands.
"And see, now all I have to do is input the message. Hand me the machine will you, and I'll just plug it in."
"Umm…"
"Daniel, is this thing on tape?"
"It might be."
Sam's jaw dropped and he distinctly heard a muttered "luddite" and a few choice expressions about the Stone Age.
"I've had it since college," he said defensively. "It still works."
"Yes, well Betamax still works and I seem to remember you have yourself a VHS player and that enormous TV that looms over your living room."
"Forty-two inches," Jack said, motioning with his arms. "Epic."
"It is a large example, Daniel Jackson."
"It came with a three year warranty."
"Oh, well of course. How could you not have it then."
"I'll remember this conversation the next time we have a movie night."
"We will be viewing Ladyhawke on the twelfth, Daniel Jackson."
"Thank you, Teal'c. And we'll be kicking back enjoying it in all its widescreen glory won't we?"
"Careful, Carter, or you'll miss out on the opportunity to swoon over Rutger Hauer," said Jack.
Sam snorted. "We'll just fast forward past Michelle Pfeiffer and that nude scene then, won't we? Lucky for you, I can convert it to a digital file." She directed this last at Daniel.
"How long will it be before you get a result?" he asked.
"Umm, about an hour, give or take. It depends on how many times I'll have to run it through."
"Bet you I can find the numbers before then," declared Jack.
"And how do you propose to do that? Cold call every combination possible in the hope you'll get lucky?"
"Yup."
"That's insane! That's…" She looked up briefly, calculating. "One thousand numbers."
"Well, thank goodness the Air force will be picking up the phone bill."
"That's not funny, sir."
"It'd still be cheaper than renting a billboard and plastering it with neon flashing lights and a message. 'Sabrina call me back! I can't figure out your number because of your tendency to mumble! Lots of love and kisses, Daniel.'"
"You know, she might call back. It's not impossible."
"Don't be stupid, Daniel. She'd take silence as a rejection." Sam shook her head in mock sorrow.
"Women!"
"Men!"
"Now, now, children," admonished Jack. "Play nice or I'll take away your toys." He pulled the phone towards him and jabbed at the buttons with the end of his pencil. "Yes, hello. Is that Sabrina Gosling. No? Oh well… okay Ma'am thanks for your time."
He looked up at their expectant expressions.
"Well?" Daniel asked.
"It's not three four eight."
"Do you even have some kind of system for this?" Sam sounded doubtful.
"Yup."
"I'll have to trust you on that one." Daniel ran a hand through his hair. "I've seen what you call organization and wept."
"That's what Post-it notes were invented for."
"I pity any person who has to follow your convoluted brain processes."
Jack winked and jabbed at the phone again. Daniel watched him reel off his spiel and then wince and hold the phone gingerly away from his ear as a tinny sounding stream of invective issued forth.
"Cross off two nine nine."
Teal'c wrote the combination on the chalkboard in his neat and careful hand.
"I thought you said it was definitely a seven at the beginning?" said Sam.
"And?"
"Well, neither of those combinations has a seven."
"Your point being?"
"That, exactly."
Jack laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Exactly."
Sam looked confused for a moment and then realized he was deliberately being obtuse just to get a rise out of her. "I'm going to enjoy watching you eat those socks, sir."
"And if I still manage to reach her first?"
"I'll…"
"Eat red Jell-o for a month," suggested Daniel.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"Make it six," Jack said as he punched in another set of numbers.
"That confident are you?"
He held up a finger as he spoke into the phone but nodded; a definite twinkle in his eye.
"Done. Oh, and there'll be no cheating by adding Tabasco to those socks."
He nodded again, grinning as he covered the mouthpiece.
"Or mayonnaise for that matter," she warned severely. "In fact no condiments at all."
Jack held out the phone. "Sabrina for you, Daniel. Nice accent she has there."
Daniel's eyes widened as he took the receiver from him. "S…Sabrina?"
"I don't believe it," Sam declared. "The odds against you dialing it on the third attempt are--"
"Astronomical?"
"Large." Her eyes snapped back to Daniel and then narrowed. "Well? Is it her?"
"It’s the talking clock."
"It was worth a try." Jack grinned. "Unfortunately Daniel doesn't have a poker face in these kind of situations."
The computer beeped and Sam rushed back to check the screen.
"Nine six one," she said triumphantly. "Now hand over the phone."
"Nuh uh, Carter. Find your own, I'm using this one." His hand hovered over the keys. "Nine six one, you said?"
"Don't you even!" She sprinted out into the corridor.
"I'll tell the commissary to order more of the strawberry," said Daniel, shaking his head.
"Colonel Carter has a greater dislike for the cherry flavor."
"You're a diabolical man, Teal'c."
"I believe that you are the greater transgressor, O'Neill."
"Touché."
Author: Rigel
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Disclaimer: Not mine (alas!) Don't sue!
Rating: (G)
Wordcount: 1775
Categories: Gen, Humor, Team
A/N: So, beanpot and I were chatting on AIM and she was telling me about her friends deciphering an unintelligible phone message and... heee! Fic has ensued *smooshes Bean for the muse inspiration*
"You have one saved message. Message recorded on Thursday the eighth of July at 1.45pm."
"Oh, hi Daniel. Umm, well I guess you're not in at the moment but I was hoping to catch up with you while I'm here… Ah, erm, no pressure or anything like that - maybe we can go out for a casual drink…or dinner if you like, I'm easy, ha! …Anyway I'm staying downtown at the, oh, but you can reach me on my cell. It’s five five five, oh six one, eight mphr zhhhm gaahn two. Hope to hear from you soon. Oooh! And it's Sabrina by the way. Sabrina Gosling - but I'm sure you already knew that."
"Okay, one more time." Jack chewed thoughtfully on a pencil as he twirled the chair he was seated on from side to side.
Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose and then hit the play button on the answering machine. The blinking number one was beginning to look like some kind of frozen last second on a countdown clock for a bomb, and considering the person who had left the message it was a fairly apt analogy. Sabrina had 'handle with care' practically stamped all over her.
"Oh, hi Daniel…"
"You can skip this part. We all know she's in town by now."
"And easy."
He shot Sam a glare that spoke volumes.
"Hey, her words not mine!" She wrinkled her nose as she bared her teeth in a teasing smile.
"It’s five five five, oh six one, eight mphr zhhhm gaahn two…"
"Okay, that sounded like a nine, then maybe a two after that."
"No it was definitely a seven," Jack objected.
"Seven! That's two syllables, when there was clearly only one in that first number."
"It's a seven."
"It was a nine. If you listen you can hear it."
"I believe it may have been a five, O'Neill," Teal'c suggested evenly.
"I'll eat a pair of my own unwashed socks if it was a five."
Daniel scratched a finger along his jaw. It would almost be worth selling tickets to see Jack dine on a polyester and wool fiber blend, he was sure there would be more than enough people to fill a small venue. Maybe even a medium sized playhouse if he photocopied some fliers and hung them on some of the notice boards around the base.
"One more time then?" he asked, finger hovering over the rewind button.
They all groaned and Jack threw a crumpled ball of paper into the waste basket with an impressive hook shot flourish.
"Maybe I can try running it through a voice recognition program," Sam suggested. "We are sitting in the middle of a military base after all and have access to some pretty sophisticated software."
"Uh, wouldn't this fall under use of government property for personal gain?" Daniel raised an eyebrow.
Jack began to laugh and turned it into a cough when Sam turned around to give him a pointed look.
"Well…" She drew out the word and raised her shoulders in a shrug. "If anyone asks I can say it's a matter of National Security."
"Ha! Because of course Daniel getting laid is vital to the protection of our nation."
"Hey!"
"Sexual frustration can be a serious matter, O'Neill."
Jack did a very obvious double take. "Say what? Have you been watching Oprah again?"
"No." Teal'c gave a disdainful sniff. "It is known to all Jaffa. Sometimes it is necessary to relieve oneself with the use of…"
"Okay, okay. There's such a thing as TMI there, buddy."
Sam had turned bright red with repressed laughter and was endeavoring to keep a straight face as Teal'c scanned the room with a gimlet-eyed expression.
"Anyway, back to National Security," Daniel said, attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters. "I can just imagine a squad of marines kicking down Sabrina's door in six month's time demanding to know the whereabouts of Osama and his mountain hideaway."
"That wouldn't happen."
"Nope, she'd just be flagged as a person of interest and have a team of crack experts assigned to poring over her trash and reporting on the significance of her choice of Tide as a washing powder and how that relates to the latest chatter intercepted over the wireless."
"Haha, Jack."
"I've seen it happen, what--?" He broke off to make an innocent expression at Sam. "Kawalsky always loved talking about the neighbor that almost caused an international incident when he switched phone providers. Although, that case was more to do with the fact that some person up the chain of command had accidentally written his name down with one 'S' instead of two."
He frowned to himself. "And believe me, spelling is important. I'd know."
Sam rolled her eyes and made her way over to the computer on Daniel's desk. "It’s just a matter of finding the right algorithm and then running the data through an analysis matrix so you can see all of the correlating points to known voice samples. Look, I'll pull it all up from the mainframe." She began tapping a string of commands onto the keyboard.
Daniel exchanged glances with Jack and they both shrugged. Teal'c watched them, a smile hovering at his lips as he picked up a small statue from a shelf and turned it over in his hands.
"And see, now all I have to do is input the message. Hand me the machine will you, and I'll just plug it in."
"Umm…"
"Daniel, is this thing on tape?"
"It might be."
Sam's jaw dropped and he distinctly heard a muttered "luddite" and a few choice expressions about the Stone Age.
"I've had it since college," he said defensively. "It still works."
"Yes, well Betamax still works and I seem to remember you have yourself a VHS player and that enormous TV that looms over your living room."
"Forty-two inches," Jack said, motioning with his arms. "Epic."
"It is a large example, Daniel Jackson."
"It came with a three year warranty."
"Oh, well of course. How could you not have it then."
"I'll remember this conversation the next time we have a movie night."
"We will be viewing Ladyhawke on the twelfth, Daniel Jackson."
"Thank you, Teal'c. And we'll be kicking back enjoying it in all its widescreen glory won't we?"
"Careful, Carter, or you'll miss out on the opportunity to swoon over Rutger Hauer," said Jack.
Sam snorted. "We'll just fast forward past Michelle Pfeiffer and that nude scene then, won't we? Lucky for you, I can convert it to a digital file." She directed this last at Daniel.
"How long will it be before you get a result?" he asked.
"Umm, about an hour, give or take. It depends on how many times I'll have to run it through."
"Bet you I can find the numbers before then," declared Jack.
"And how do you propose to do that? Cold call every combination possible in the hope you'll get lucky?"
"Yup."
"That's insane! That's…" She looked up briefly, calculating. "One thousand numbers."
"Well, thank goodness the Air force will be picking up the phone bill."
"That's not funny, sir."
"It'd still be cheaper than renting a billboard and plastering it with neon flashing lights and a message. 'Sabrina call me back! I can't figure out your number because of your tendency to mumble! Lots of love and kisses, Daniel.'"
"You know, she might call back. It's not impossible."
"Don't be stupid, Daniel. She'd take silence as a rejection." Sam shook her head in mock sorrow.
"Women!"
"Men!"
"Now, now, children," admonished Jack. "Play nice or I'll take away your toys." He pulled the phone towards him and jabbed at the buttons with the end of his pencil. "Yes, hello. Is that Sabrina Gosling. No? Oh well… okay Ma'am thanks for your time."
He looked up at their expectant expressions.
"Well?" Daniel asked.
"It's not three four eight."
"Do you even have some kind of system for this?" Sam sounded doubtful.
"Yup."
"I'll have to trust you on that one." Daniel ran a hand through his hair. "I've seen what you call organization and wept."
"That's what Post-it notes were invented for."
"I pity any person who has to follow your convoluted brain processes."
Jack winked and jabbed at the phone again. Daniel watched him reel off his spiel and then wince and hold the phone gingerly away from his ear as a tinny sounding stream of invective issued forth.
"Cross off two nine nine."
Teal'c wrote the combination on the chalkboard in his neat and careful hand.
"I thought you said it was definitely a seven at the beginning?" said Sam.
"And?"
"Well, neither of those combinations has a seven."
"Your point being?"
"That, exactly."
Jack laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "Exactly."
Sam looked confused for a moment and then realized he was deliberately being obtuse just to get a rise out of her. "I'm going to enjoy watching you eat those socks, sir."
"And if I still manage to reach her first?"
"I'll…"
"Eat red Jell-o for a month," suggested Daniel.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"Make it six," Jack said as he punched in another set of numbers.
"That confident are you?"
He held up a finger as he spoke into the phone but nodded; a definite twinkle in his eye.
"Done. Oh, and there'll be no cheating by adding Tabasco to those socks."
He nodded again, grinning as he covered the mouthpiece.
"Or mayonnaise for that matter," she warned severely. "In fact no condiments at all."
Jack held out the phone. "Sabrina for you, Daniel. Nice accent she has there."
Daniel's eyes widened as he took the receiver from him. "S…Sabrina?"
"I don't believe it," Sam declared. "The odds against you dialing it on the third attempt are--"
"Astronomical?"
"Large." Her eyes snapped back to Daniel and then narrowed. "Well? Is it her?"
"It’s the talking clock."
"It was worth a try." Jack grinned. "Unfortunately Daniel doesn't have a poker face in these kind of situations."
The computer beeped and Sam rushed back to check the screen.
"Nine six one," she said triumphantly. "Now hand over the phone."
"Nuh uh, Carter. Find your own, I'm using this one." His hand hovered over the keys. "Nine six one, you said?"
"Don't you even!" She sprinted out into the corridor.
"I'll tell the commissary to order more of the strawberry," said Daniel, shaking his head.
"Colonel Carter has a greater dislike for the cherry flavor."
"You're a diabolical man, Teal'c."
"I believe that you are the greater transgressor, O'Neill."
"Touché."