FIC: Mission: Improbable
Title: Mission: Improbable
Author: Niamaea
Rating: PG
Warnings: Completely glossed over science, four extremely bad plans, SG-1 past and present in a really little room, not nearly enough maple syrup.
Spoilers: Spoiler and calorie free!
Notes: To celebrate (celebrate, dammit, I refuse to be sad!) end-of-Stargate-Eve. Written for 'Keep the Gate Open'... let it never be said I'll be half-responsible for issuing a speed writing challenge and not give it a shot. I think this did clock in at around 38 minutes, too. An extremely insane 38 minutes.
--
His aide came running into his office at 1520 on a Tuesday and turned on the TV without a word. Immediately three Ori warships filled the screen on a feed streaming live from somewhere in Colorado, and a nervous reporter chattered with the anchor over a phone connection. “It just appeared, Marcy, out of thin air, people are just standing the street and staring, I’m trying -“
“We have no contact with Cheyenne, sir.”
“Crap,” Jack said, right before the transport beam engulfed him and his office dissolved in light.
The bridge was loud and crowded, bustling with activity and an underlying hint of precariously controlled chaos teetering on the edge of complete dissolution. No one even glanced his way, but a few seconds later someone yanked his arm and Jack found himself being steered down the hallway and flanked by Daniel and Carter, who were going back and forth at light speed about something involving nanites and crystals with absolutely no mind paid to him whatsoever.
“So…there’s a plan?” he asked, after they had maneuvered him into a small storage room one level down, full of crates and weapons and Mitchell struggling to lean against the bulkheads without knocking anything over, and Vala sitting and swinging her legs on atop something marked ‘perishable’, and Teal’c with his back to the door and a staff weapon in his hand.
“Well, sir,” said Carter, handing him a duffle bag, “We have a few.”
There was a tac-vest inside, right on top, and the rest of a field kit beneath. His size. Daniel was kneeling and methodically going through the pockets of his own vest, discarding half of what he pulled out. He didn’t look up, said, “One is, somebody shoots me, I ascend, and try to take out something major before the Others intervene.”
“That’s a bad plan,” Jack said.
“Thank you,” said Mitchell, right as Vala said, “I knew I liked him,” and Carter said, “Told you.”
“I’m keeping it in reserve.”
Carter shot Mitchell a sharp glance that quieted whatever he had been about to snap, and he folded his arms and shifted, watching Daniel with a wary eye. “Two,” she said, “We arrange a meeting to outline the terms of our surrender.”
“…and?”
“That’s the whole plan, sir.”
“For the time being,” Teal’c said, face blank. Bad blank, too, the kind of blank that used to have Jack scrapping missions and going home immediately or else there would end up being explosions and revenge trips that he just did not need.
“Pass,” said Jack.
“Three, we, um…” Daniel winced a little, looked past Jack for help that he evidently wasn’t going to get. “We steal a couple F-302s and upload a virus into their mothership.”
“Ha ha?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“How?” Jack asked, and then Carter opened her mouth and he held up a hand and a silencing finger, and she closed it again. Yeah, he still had it. “Ah! Never mind. I trust you. Is that it?”
“Four, we ask them nicely to go away?” said Mitchell.
Jack looked at them, Carter with smudges under her eyes and her steely crisis face on; Daniel the kind of alert that only happened when he drank way, way too much coffee in a twelve hour period, and slash or slash because the world was about to explode; Mitchell slouching so casually he looked like he was about to snap and kill someone and Vala popping gum and checking the safety on a P-90. He sighed. “Teal’c?”
“We have not heard the fat woman thus far, O’Neill.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Mitchell blinked, glanced at Carter, who looked at Daniel, who raised his eyebrows at Teal’c, who must have done something back behind Jack because Vala took the gum out of her mouth, stuck it to the underside of the crate’s lid, and hopped to her feet. “Can I drive?”
“No,” said Teal’c.
In the end, she did drive, but it wasn’t until almost 36 hours later, by which time Mitchell was unconscious in the second seat, and in the other two planes Teal’c was halfway there himself, Carter was managing to steer on the force of sheer willpower alone, Daniel was almost completely incoherent from a Prior mind-whammy, and what turned out to be half the Ori fleet was nothing more than lingering traces of smoke in the air and debris littering the ground over Colorado and Antarctica. She was still bragging by the time everyone was awake and reasonably in possession of themselves again, four days later.
“Vala,” Daniel snapped, “You can’t have one. You can’t steal one. You can’t borrow one.”
“What if - ”
“No.”
She folded her arms and sat heavily on the end of Mitchell’s bed. “You’re obviously still all…” And she gestured vaguely in the air near her head, wiggling fingers that she floated airily away.
“I am not -“
“Hey Sam,” Mitchell said, loudly, as she stepped through the infirmary door with Teal’c behind her and pushed at Daniel’s feet until he made space for her to sit.
“I just spoke with Landry,” she said, swiping the untouched jello cup from Daniel’s tray. “The administration and the IOA are in an emergency UN Security Council meeting all day, but it’s not looking great. He said we’re better off staying here unless we want to be confined to the base for the next few weeks. You too, sir.”
“I’ll pass on the lockdown, thanks.”
“This is going to take months,” said Daniel. “Not weeks. We’re just supposed to sit here?”
“I guess.”
“Well that’s boring,” Vala sighed.
Mitchell made a face. “Yeah.”
Teal’c, silent in the doorway, cleared his throat. He dipped his head when they turned to look, said, “Many planets requiring liberation from the Ori forces remain.”
A pause, glances exchanged. “True,” said Carter, slowly.
Daniel and Vala looked at each other. “Well it’d be rude not to clean up after ourselves,” she said.
“I just came in to some free time, apparently,” said Mitchell.
They turned to look at him, Daniel first, and Carter, Teal’c, Mitchell and Vala, all quiet. Expectant.
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, bounced from heels to toes, raised his eyebrows. Then he looked at Vala. “I’m driving.”
Author: Niamaea
Rating: PG
Warnings: Completely glossed over science, four extremely bad plans, SG-1 past and present in a really little room, not nearly enough maple syrup.
Spoilers: Spoiler and calorie free!
Notes: To celebrate (celebrate, dammit, I refuse to be sad!) end-of-Stargate-Eve. Written for 'Keep the Gate Open'... let it never be said I'll be half-responsible for issuing a speed writing challenge and not give it a shot. I think this did clock in at around 38 minutes, too. An extremely insane 38 minutes.
--
His aide came running into his office at 1520 on a Tuesday and turned on the TV without a word. Immediately three Ori warships filled the screen on a feed streaming live from somewhere in Colorado, and a nervous reporter chattered with the anchor over a phone connection. “It just appeared, Marcy, out of thin air, people are just standing the street and staring, I’m trying -“
“We have no contact with Cheyenne, sir.”
“Crap,” Jack said, right before the transport beam engulfed him and his office dissolved in light.
The bridge was loud and crowded, bustling with activity and an underlying hint of precariously controlled chaos teetering on the edge of complete dissolution. No one even glanced his way, but a few seconds later someone yanked his arm and Jack found himself being steered down the hallway and flanked by Daniel and Carter, who were going back and forth at light speed about something involving nanites and crystals with absolutely no mind paid to him whatsoever.
“So…there’s a plan?” he asked, after they had maneuvered him into a small storage room one level down, full of crates and weapons and Mitchell struggling to lean against the bulkheads without knocking anything over, and Vala sitting and swinging her legs on atop something marked ‘perishable’, and Teal’c with his back to the door and a staff weapon in his hand.
“Well, sir,” said Carter, handing him a duffle bag, “We have a few.”
There was a tac-vest inside, right on top, and the rest of a field kit beneath. His size. Daniel was kneeling and methodically going through the pockets of his own vest, discarding half of what he pulled out. He didn’t look up, said, “One is, somebody shoots me, I ascend, and try to take out something major before the Others intervene.”
“That’s a bad plan,” Jack said.
“Thank you,” said Mitchell, right as Vala said, “I knew I liked him,” and Carter said, “Told you.”
“I’m keeping it in reserve.”
Carter shot Mitchell a sharp glance that quieted whatever he had been about to snap, and he folded his arms and shifted, watching Daniel with a wary eye. “Two,” she said, “We arrange a meeting to outline the terms of our surrender.”
“…and?”
“That’s the whole plan, sir.”
“For the time being,” Teal’c said, face blank. Bad blank, too, the kind of blank that used to have Jack scrapping missions and going home immediately or else there would end up being explosions and revenge trips that he just did not need.
“Pass,” said Jack.
“Three, we, um…” Daniel winced a little, looked past Jack for help that he evidently wasn’t going to get. “We steal a couple F-302s and upload a virus into their mothership.”
“Ha ha?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yup.”
“How?” Jack asked, and then Carter opened her mouth and he held up a hand and a silencing finger, and she closed it again. Yeah, he still had it. “Ah! Never mind. I trust you. Is that it?”
“Four, we ask them nicely to go away?” said Mitchell.
Jack looked at them, Carter with smudges under her eyes and her steely crisis face on; Daniel the kind of alert that only happened when he drank way, way too much coffee in a twelve hour period, and slash or slash because the world was about to explode; Mitchell slouching so casually he looked like he was about to snap and kill someone and Vala popping gum and checking the safety on a P-90. He sighed. “Teal’c?”
“We have not heard the fat woman thus far, O’Neill.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Mitchell blinked, glanced at Carter, who looked at Daniel, who raised his eyebrows at Teal’c, who must have done something back behind Jack because Vala took the gum out of her mouth, stuck it to the underside of the crate’s lid, and hopped to her feet. “Can I drive?”
“No,” said Teal’c.
In the end, she did drive, but it wasn’t until almost 36 hours later, by which time Mitchell was unconscious in the second seat, and in the other two planes Teal’c was halfway there himself, Carter was managing to steer on the force of sheer willpower alone, Daniel was almost completely incoherent from a Prior mind-whammy, and what turned out to be half the Ori fleet was nothing more than lingering traces of smoke in the air and debris littering the ground over Colorado and Antarctica. She was still bragging by the time everyone was awake and reasonably in possession of themselves again, four days later.
“Vala,” Daniel snapped, “You can’t have one. You can’t steal one. You can’t borrow one.”
“What if - ”
“No.”
She folded her arms and sat heavily on the end of Mitchell’s bed. “You’re obviously still all…” And she gestured vaguely in the air near her head, wiggling fingers that she floated airily away.
“I am not -“
“Hey Sam,” Mitchell said, loudly, as she stepped through the infirmary door with Teal’c behind her and pushed at Daniel’s feet until he made space for her to sit.
“I just spoke with Landry,” she said, swiping the untouched jello cup from Daniel’s tray. “The administration and the IOA are in an emergency UN Security Council meeting all day, but it’s not looking great. He said we’re better off staying here unless we want to be confined to the base for the next few weeks. You too, sir.”
“I’ll pass on the lockdown, thanks.”
“This is going to take months,” said Daniel. “Not weeks. We’re just supposed to sit here?”
“I guess.”
“Well that’s boring,” Vala sighed.
Mitchell made a face. “Yeah.”
Teal’c, silent in the doorway, cleared his throat. He dipped his head when they turned to look, said, “Many planets requiring liberation from the Ori forces remain.”
A pause, glances exchanged. “True,” said Carter, slowly.
Daniel and Vala looked at each other. “Well it’d be rude not to clean up after ourselves,” she said.
“I just came in to some free time, apparently,” said Mitchell.
They turned to look at him, Daniel first, and Carter, Teal’c, Mitchell and Vala, all quiet. Expectant.
Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, bounced from heels to toes, raised his eyebrows. Then he looked at Vala. “I’m driving.”