Nanny by Slybrarian (Not Human Challenge)
Title: Nanny
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: 1063
Summary: The children of the rich or powerful had always been targets, even in child-loving Pegasus, and the Lanteans were both rich and powerful beyond imagination.
Author's notes: Very minor spoilers for 4x11 "Be All My Sins Remembered."
The plan was almost complete. Gar'shen had been waiting for months to get this far, and now victory was almost within his grasp. It'd taken time to infiltrate himself among the traders coming and going to the city of the Ancestors, more to map out the layout well enough to formulate a way to achieve his objective. Now, though, everything was coming to fruition. This would be the most dangerous part, but once he had his hands on his primary target - or better yet, both targets - they wouldn't dare to harm him. No one would put their own children at risk, after all, not even the fabled Sheppard and McKay.
Gar'shen had been surprised to discover the creche was unguarded, especially given how thorough their other security was. Perhaps they assumed no one would bother the children, an idea not totally unfounded as even those fighting the most vicious wars would rarely target children deliberately for anything worse than capture and adoption. The threat of the Wraith made children too valuable to endanger. The exception were those of the rich or powerful, who had always been a target for kidnapping, or even outright assassination by would-be usurpers. The Lanteans were both rich and powerful, more so than any other society for all their small number, and if he could take their leaders' progeny the ransom would make his family would be wealthy beyond imagining.
He peered around the corner and saw the door to the creche was open. That door was the sole security measure he'd seen, a heavy blast shield that could probably withstand even the largest explosions. It would do no good once he was inside, though, and within there would only the single caretaker. If things went well, he could slip in and out undetected, and be to the gate before anyone knew there was a problem. Gar'shen casually walked down the corridor, just a trader wandering around and admiring the city, and as he reached the door he slipped inside.
"Hello." Gar'shen suppressed a grimace as he turned to the side. He saw the caretaker standing there, a young woman with long black hair. She was quite attractive in his opinion, which was a pity. "I'm Fran. Can I help you?"
"Oh, uh, greetings," he said, with a gregarious smile on his face. "I'm Trellan. I was just sort of wandering around. The city of the Ancestors is an amazing place."
"I've been told so, yes." Her face was pleasant and unassuming, and she seemed to have a constant smile. No doubt that was one reason why she was the one tending the children, because many here seemed to lack any patience with such matters. "I'm sorry, but this area is restricted. Only parents, registered friends, and other official caregivers are allowed in this area without command authorization."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gar'shen said, putting on his most contrite expression. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and glanced around, taking a few steps back towards the door. "I didn't realise. I simply heard the children and came this way. I've always liked them."
"They are enjoyable to be around, aren't they?" She grinned for a moment again, then tilted her head slightly, looking puzzled. "If you're lost, I can call someone to help you get back to the visitors' area."
"No, no, don't bother." He shook his head and pointed down the hall. "Down that way and up, right?"
She nodded. "That's correct."
This Fran had such a pretty smile. It really was too bad his plan didn't have room for an adult hostage. "Right, I'll be going then. May the gods smile on your day."
"Goodbye!"
Gar'shen waited until she'd started to turn away, then pulled the spring-gun from his pocket, aimed, and fired in on smooth motion. Even as the heavy metal dart embedded itself in the back of her skull he was already moving towards his primary target, the infant boy in the corner with the dark, fluffy hair. He only got a few feet before something latched onto his left wrist with an iron grip. His momentum sent him spinning around and he barely stayed upright. His eyes widened with shock as he saw it was the caregiver who'd grabbed him.
"I'm required to inform you that further hostile action will result in the use of force, and that you may be injured or killed as a result," Fran said, smiling even more than ever. He snarled and brought the gun up again, but her other hand lashed out like a snake and squeezed it into a unrecognizable lump of metal, nearly taking his fingers with it. He tried to break free, to strike at her with foot and fist, but she moved again, and he could hear his own bones grinding and snapping as she crushed his wrist and effortlessly broke his legs.
"Do not worry," she said cheerfully as he moaned, "Medical attention is on the way." One of the babies began to cry, and she glanced over at it. "I'm sorry. I need to go help Alan. Please don't move, as you may injure yourself further."
Gar'shen laid there, barely able to stay conscious through the haze of pain. It could have been hours or just minutes later that the sound of pounding boots came from the hall, and then the room was filling with soldiers, and it seemed like hundreds of weapons were pointed his way.
"Please be quiet," he heard Fran say in the background. "I just got them to sleep."
"Oh my god!" someone else shouted, a man with a loud and grating voice. "Is Jeannie okay? Where is she? Oh, thank god, there you are."
"Calm down, Rodney," a second man said, much more quietly. "She'd have said if anyone was hurt... Victor's fine, right, Fran?"
"Of course, Mr. President, although I fear everyone's naps have been ruined."
"Good." Someone shoved through the crowd of soldiers, and as Gar'shen slipped away into unconsciousness the last thing he saw was a grim face coming into view. "Hi there. My name's John. You and I are going to have a little chat."
Author: slybrarian
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: 1063
Summary: The children of the rich or powerful had always been targets, even in child-loving Pegasus, and the Lanteans were both rich and powerful beyond imagination.
Author's notes: Very minor spoilers for 4x11 "Be All My Sins Remembered."
The plan was almost complete. Gar'shen had been waiting for months to get this far, and now victory was almost within his grasp. It'd taken time to infiltrate himself among the traders coming and going to the city of the Ancestors, more to map out the layout well enough to formulate a way to achieve his objective. Now, though, everything was coming to fruition. This would be the most dangerous part, but once he had his hands on his primary target - or better yet, both targets - they wouldn't dare to harm him. No one would put their own children at risk, after all, not even the fabled Sheppard and McKay.
Gar'shen had been surprised to discover the creche was unguarded, especially given how thorough their other security was. Perhaps they assumed no one would bother the children, an idea not totally unfounded as even those fighting the most vicious wars would rarely target children deliberately for anything worse than capture and adoption. The threat of the Wraith made children too valuable to endanger. The exception were those of the rich or powerful, who had always been a target for kidnapping, or even outright assassination by would-be usurpers. The Lanteans were both rich and powerful, more so than any other society for all their small number, and if he could take their leaders' progeny the ransom would make his family would be wealthy beyond imagining.
He peered around the corner and saw the door to the creche was open. That door was the sole security measure he'd seen, a heavy blast shield that could probably withstand even the largest explosions. It would do no good once he was inside, though, and within there would only the single caretaker. If things went well, he could slip in and out undetected, and be to the gate before anyone knew there was a problem. Gar'shen casually walked down the corridor, just a trader wandering around and admiring the city, and as he reached the door he slipped inside.
"Hello." Gar'shen suppressed a grimace as he turned to the side. He saw the caretaker standing there, a young woman with long black hair. She was quite attractive in his opinion, which was a pity. "I'm Fran. Can I help you?"
"Oh, uh, greetings," he said, with a gregarious smile on his face. "I'm Trellan. I was just sort of wandering around. The city of the Ancestors is an amazing place."
"I've been told so, yes." Her face was pleasant and unassuming, and she seemed to have a constant smile. No doubt that was one reason why she was the one tending the children, because many here seemed to lack any patience with such matters. "I'm sorry, but this area is restricted. Only parents, registered friends, and other official caregivers are allowed in this area without command authorization."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Gar'shen said, putting on his most contrite expression. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and glanced around, taking a few steps back towards the door. "I didn't realise. I simply heard the children and came this way. I've always liked them."
"They are enjoyable to be around, aren't they?" She grinned for a moment again, then tilted her head slightly, looking puzzled. "If you're lost, I can call someone to help you get back to the visitors' area."
"No, no, don't bother." He shook his head and pointed down the hall. "Down that way and up, right?"
She nodded. "That's correct."
This Fran had such a pretty smile. It really was too bad his plan didn't have room for an adult hostage. "Right, I'll be going then. May the gods smile on your day."
"Goodbye!"
Gar'shen waited until she'd started to turn away, then pulled the spring-gun from his pocket, aimed, and fired in on smooth motion. Even as the heavy metal dart embedded itself in the back of her skull he was already moving towards his primary target, the infant boy in the corner with the dark, fluffy hair. He only got a few feet before something latched onto his left wrist with an iron grip. His momentum sent him spinning around and he barely stayed upright. His eyes widened with shock as he saw it was the caregiver who'd grabbed him.
"I'm required to inform you that further hostile action will result in the use of force, and that you may be injured or killed as a result," Fran said, smiling even more than ever. He snarled and brought the gun up again, but her other hand lashed out like a snake and squeezed it into a unrecognizable lump of metal, nearly taking his fingers with it. He tried to break free, to strike at her with foot and fist, but she moved again, and he could hear his own bones grinding and snapping as she crushed his wrist and effortlessly broke his legs.
"Do not worry," she said cheerfully as he moaned, "Medical attention is on the way." One of the babies began to cry, and she glanced over at it. "I'm sorry. I need to go help Alan. Please don't move, as you may injure yourself further."
Gar'shen laid there, barely able to stay conscious through the haze of pain. It could have been hours or just minutes later that the sound of pounding boots came from the hall, and then the room was filling with soldiers, and it seemed like hundreds of weapons were pointed his way.
"Please be quiet," he heard Fran say in the background. "I just got them to sleep."
"Oh my god!" someone else shouted, a man with a loud and grating voice. "Is Jeannie okay? Where is she? Oh, thank god, there you are."
"Calm down, Rodney," a second man said, much more quietly. "She'd have said if anyone was hurt... Victor's fine, right, Fran?"
"Of course, Mr. President, although I fear everyone's naps have been ruined."
"Good." Someone shoved through the crowd of soldiers, and as Gar'shen slipped away into unconsciousness the last thing he saw was a grim face coming into view. "Hi there. My name's John. You and I are going to have a little chat."