Three Scenes of Chuck; pg13
Title: Three Scenes of Chuck.
Written for Fififolle,
…in answer to her SG1/SGA request for Chuck and Walter.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None.
Characters: Chuck, Walter, Peter Grodin; McKay, Sheppard, others.
Spoilers: Torment Of Tantalus; The Rising, Season 3 pilot ep; Flash Gordon pilot episode (just for fun)
Genre: Lonely.
Summary: Three scenes from Chuck’s life, as told to me by my Chuck muse.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, I make no money from this; all of this is for fun.
Author’s note: Takes place at the season’s first episode, early in the season, and at the midpoint of the season.
-----------------------------------
Some things never changed, not really. There were always ranks to things, strata to how people arranged themselves. Even in Atlantis, the farthest outpost of Earth society, this was true. It was something mankind had never been able to rid himself of.
There were three classes of people on Atlantis:
1. non-essentials.
2. essentials.
3. elites.
Only the first and third classes could walk through the Stargate back to Earth. The non-essentials were allowed to do so precisely because their absence wouldn’t adversely affect the running of Atlantis. The elites were allowed to do so simply because they could, because nobody was going to admonish them, slap their hand, or reprimand them in any way.
That left the essentials, like Chuck, stuck in Atlantis. No recourse, no appeals, nothing to do but man your post.
Lucky him, that’s what he came here to do.
And that is why he was here, next to alone, with only a skeleton crew for company, here in the city that Plato had learned about from Solon so long ago. Doctors Weir and McKay and Beckett and all the military personnel had gone back to Earth for meetings and conferences and family and - some said in conspiratorial whispers - slaps-and-giggles. Not Chuck: he was here for the long haul…or as long of a haul as he could make.
--------------------
FILE SYSTEM: PORTAGE_INITIATIVE
SUBSYSTEM PATHWAY: DOORWAY_TO_HEAVEN
FOLDER PACKET: SOLON
File Type: Restricted, Personal Use
Classification Type: Low
To: Chuck Arden
From: Walter Harrington
Message: I hope all is nice and quiet up where you are. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want exciting days on the job. Then again, by now, you might know that firsthand. I told Peter the same thing I’m telling you, and I hope you finish reading this email from me, even if he already told you everything I’m saying now.
You’ll see lots of things in your job. Some people will no doubt call you a desk jockey, but that’s fine - you can see a lot of new and strange things without ever throwing yourself in the line of fire.
Yes, I know how Peter died…or at least I know the official report’s contents. That’s one of the advantages of being a desk jockey, a “mere technician” -- people don’t care if we see things that they’d hide from anyone else. Being under their radar so often, we can learn things.
And we can even make friends with them…by ‘them’ I mean our superiors and those in the chains of command. Never forget those chains, as they might save your life one day; or at least, they might help you save the lives of others.
Here’s best wishes from me to you. Good luck and Godspeed.
MESSAGE TERMINATION
------------------
Mid-Season:
The day had begun with him being naught more than a fifth wheel, brought along as a peace gesture between Dr.s Weir and McKay. Dr. McKay and Col. Sheppard had hogged the computers of this asteroid, attacking its programs one at a time… and getting nowhere. This rock’s navigator had been human, and was dead for the last one-point-five millennia. There were no logs of scientific research and progress, despite the clear presence of information-gathering equipment throughout. Thoughts of the navigator being a loner or an exile were nixed by saved copies of e-letters sent to friends and family back home.
Then they had discovered that the stargate didn’t work - “left unplugged too damn long” in Col. Sheppard’s words - and he and Dr. McKay had taken all but one of the resources of Atlantis back with them to work on the stargate surrounded by the mummified bodies of those who had fled potential disaster. Leaving that one alone with the mummified body of the navigator, who’d remained at his duty station.
Chuck was that resource. Looking first to the navigator - on the floor where Col. Sheppard’d dropped him after yanking him off the chair he’d occupied for well over the past thousand years - and then over to the navigation chair itself. Chuck sat down, mindful of the fact that once more, once again, he was occupying the hard-won place of another man. Apologies were not the point, as neither the navigator nor Peter Grodin was alive to accept or to reject said apology. All you can do is fill their shoes to the best of your ability, and give them full credit for all they’ve accomplished.
Seated, Chuck read some of the files off the screen. He knew from these that the navigator had not been a scientist or a medic or an outcast. He was what Chuck is - an employee, an accompaniment, as much of a fallback man as Peter’d been, someone who holds the short straw without flinching. And the navigator’d been just as brave as Peter had been: while the others aboard ship had fled to try to get the stargate working again, he had remained in his place…even jettisoned something to the planet, a something that kept this asteroid in geostationary orbit.
Chuck knew that one day he might have to make a similar sacrifice as Peter and the navigator had, and he knew he wouldn’t have any choice over when or where it was. But it was at least among good company and he’d be in good standing when that day came.
Typing in an instruction he’d noted in the entries, Chuck watched as the wall retracted, revealing the view down below. This planet was tidally-locked, but hurricane-force winds wrapped the latitudes in clouds vibrantly dyed with plankton blooms. Unless those vast slow-moving twinkles of light weren’t alive, no cities cast their lights into space.
Chuck knew that, if they could see this, Peter and Walter would love this. Knowing that a control room tech had been the last person to see this magnificence, Chuck smiled, soaking it all in.
------------------------------
The End.
Written for Fififolle,
…in answer to her SG1/SGA request for Chuck and Walter.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: None.
Characters: Chuck, Walter, Peter Grodin; McKay, Sheppard, others.
Spoilers: Torment Of Tantalus; The Rising, Season 3 pilot ep; Flash Gordon pilot episode (just for fun)
Genre: Lonely.
Summary: Three scenes from Chuck’s life, as told to me by my Chuck muse.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, I make no money from this; all of this is for fun.
Author’s note: Takes place at the season’s first episode, early in the season, and at the midpoint of the season.
-----------------------------------
Some things never changed, not really. There were always ranks to things, strata to how people arranged themselves. Even in Atlantis, the farthest outpost of Earth society, this was true. It was something mankind had never been able to rid himself of.
There were three classes of people on Atlantis:
1. non-essentials.
2. essentials.
3. elites.
Only the first and third classes could walk through the Stargate back to Earth. The non-essentials were allowed to do so precisely because their absence wouldn’t adversely affect the running of Atlantis. The elites were allowed to do so simply because they could, because nobody was going to admonish them, slap their hand, or reprimand them in any way.
That left the essentials, like Chuck, stuck in Atlantis. No recourse, no appeals, nothing to do but man your post.
Lucky him, that’s what he came here to do.
And that is why he was here, next to alone, with only a skeleton crew for company, here in the city that Plato had learned about from Solon so long ago. Doctors Weir and McKay and Beckett and all the military personnel had gone back to Earth for meetings and conferences and family and - some said in conspiratorial whispers - slaps-and-giggles. Not Chuck: he was here for the long haul…or as long of a haul as he could make.
--------------------
FILE SYSTEM: PORTAGE_INITIATIVE
SUBSYSTEM PATHWAY: DOORWAY_TO_HEAVEN
FOLDER PACKET: SOLON
File Type: Restricted, Personal Use
Classification Type: Low
To: Chuck Arden
From: Walter Harrington
Message: I hope all is nice and quiet up where you are. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want exciting days on the job. Then again, by now, you might know that firsthand. I told Peter the same thing I’m telling you, and I hope you finish reading this email from me, even if he already told you everything I’m saying now.
You’ll see lots of things in your job. Some people will no doubt call you a desk jockey, but that’s fine - you can see a lot of new and strange things without ever throwing yourself in the line of fire.
Yes, I know how Peter died…or at least I know the official report’s contents. That’s one of the advantages of being a desk jockey, a “mere technician” -- people don’t care if we see things that they’d hide from anyone else. Being under their radar so often, we can learn things.
And we can even make friends with them…by ‘them’ I mean our superiors and those in the chains of command. Never forget those chains, as they might save your life one day; or at least, they might help you save the lives of others.
Here’s best wishes from me to you. Good luck and Godspeed.
MESSAGE TERMINATION
------------------
Mid-Season:
The day had begun with him being naught more than a fifth wheel, brought along as a peace gesture between Dr.s Weir and McKay. Dr. McKay and Col. Sheppard had hogged the computers of this asteroid, attacking its programs one at a time… and getting nowhere. This rock’s navigator had been human, and was dead for the last one-point-five millennia. There were no logs of scientific research and progress, despite the clear presence of information-gathering equipment throughout. Thoughts of the navigator being a loner or an exile were nixed by saved copies of e-letters sent to friends and family back home.
Then they had discovered that the stargate didn’t work - “left unplugged too damn long” in Col. Sheppard’s words - and he and Dr. McKay had taken all but one of the resources of Atlantis back with them to work on the stargate surrounded by the mummified bodies of those who had fled potential disaster. Leaving that one alone with the mummified body of the navigator, who’d remained at his duty station.
Chuck was that resource. Looking first to the navigator - on the floor where Col. Sheppard’d dropped him after yanking him off the chair he’d occupied for well over the past thousand years - and then over to the navigation chair itself. Chuck sat down, mindful of the fact that once more, once again, he was occupying the hard-won place of another man. Apologies were not the point, as neither the navigator nor Peter Grodin was alive to accept or to reject said apology. All you can do is fill their shoes to the best of your ability, and give them full credit for all they’ve accomplished.
Seated, Chuck read some of the files off the screen. He knew from these that the navigator had not been a scientist or a medic or an outcast. He was what Chuck is - an employee, an accompaniment, as much of a fallback man as Peter’d been, someone who holds the short straw without flinching. And the navigator’d been just as brave as Peter had been: while the others aboard ship had fled to try to get the stargate working again, he had remained in his place…even jettisoned something to the planet, a something that kept this asteroid in geostationary orbit.
Chuck knew that one day he might have to make a similar sacrifice as Peter and the navigator had, and he knew he wouldn’t have any choice over when or where it was. But it was at least among good company and he’d be in good standing when that day came.
Typing in an instruction he’d noted in the entries, Chuck watched as the wall retracted, revealing the view down below. This planet was tidally-locked, but hurricane-force winds wrapped the latitudes in clouds vibrantly dyed with plankton blooms. Unless those vast slow-moving twinkles of light weren’t alive, no cities cast their lights into space.
Chuck knew that, if they could see this, Peter and Walter would love this. Knowing that a control room tech had been the last person to see this magnificence, Chuck smiled, soaking it all in.
------------------------------
The End.