Originally posted by Yusagi
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Okies. Here it is. I was toying with the idea of whether there would be a bit of a standoff/struggle between Young and Cam as for general leadership of the ship, or whether Young might be killed, and Cam be thrust into the unpleasant politics of the ship. Essentially, they're just three snapshots of the triple-part premier.
Dust and dirt burned at his eyes, as he sprinted down the hallway. Every tremor of the mountain dug into him, eating at his resolve. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be trying to evac. He should have been in an F-302, fighting the Alliance's fleet. Hell, he would have settled for a place on the Hammond. Anything to be up there, doing his job, not running back to Earth to regroup.
It didn't matter. For all his frustration, he had to make sure SG-1 got back him, just as much as Young and Telford had their squads to mind. If itd just been himself, he might have tried for a ring platform. As it stood, their best chance was the gate.
A violent shudder sent him crashing to the ground. He didn't need to wait for the dirt to settle to know a chunk of the corridor went with the crash.
"Daniel!" Vala leaped to her feet, and raced up to the wall of debris. Dimly, Cam noted a few others--maybe a medic--standing near the wall. He stumbled to his feet, and followed after Vala.
"Jackson! You there?"
Over the din of the continued assault, he could just make out a reply. "Fine! Go! -- make it --!"
Vala tugged at a piece of debris, "Mitchell, help me, we can dig out a hole so they can get through!"
Cam frowned, and glanced up at the ceiling, as the next wave of attacks hit. If this continued--and he had to expect it would--the base wouldn't last long. Not long enough to feasibly dig through the mess--if it could even be done without compromising the rest of the hallway--and not likely long enough for the Stargate to dial Earth and send another IDC.
He snatched Vala's flak vest, and dragged her down the corridor. "Move out, Vala."
"No!" Vala turned pleading eyes toward him, as she struggled in his grip. "We-we can't just leave them."
"There's nothing we can do. We have to go. Now!"
Vala made no response, but her struggling lost its vigor. They had to trust that Jackson and Teal'c would find their own way out. It was more than just SG-1 trapped on the other side of the debris. They would find their way out.
Young directed the crowd of people through the crowded gate, and paused only long enough to acknowledge his and Vala's presence. By the time they stepped through the Gate, the room itself threatened to collapse completely.
There was one small hitch to the trip. The dark room he stumbled into was not Earth's Gateroom.
He didn't have long to figure out why. A marine reached out to guide him out of the Stargate's path, giving a stern warning of some sort. Judging by the tone, the marine hadn't gotten a good look at him before he'd started following crowd control orders. Before he could respond, the room shook, and Young came flying through the gate, signaling the close of the gate.
Vala's thin hand snatched his as the woman clambered over to him, still adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. "Where are we?"
He shook his head, as chaos started to spread through the crowd.
This wasn't Earth. This wasn't the Theta site. Could it have been a wormhole glitch? Like the one the alternate SG-1 managed to trigger? He hadn't been present when the wormhole activated, so it was possible something strange could have happened. He needed to find someone who was before he could figure out.
For now, what, where, and how didn't matter yet. Medics swarmed Colonel Young, and the marines struggled to prevent all-out pandemonium. Right now, the most important thing to do was to step up and prevent people from getting killed before they could get answers.
So step up he did.
---
"I'm going to kill 'im." Vala bit her lip, as she nursed her sprained ankle. Cam wasn't certain if it came from the crashed hallway or the difficult landing. Either way, the lone qualified medic was far too taxed with the severe injuries--chiefly Colonel Young and Senator Armstrong--to tend to minor ones.
Cam wasn't particularly inclined to disagree with Vala's proposal. But that was beside the point.
"Sam'll be able to analyze the wormhole's energy output, and trace where we went. After that...it'll be no time for her to mimic it and come after us. With a miniature...Icarus model." It was a credit to how long he'd been working with SG-1 that he could bluff that much tech.
Vala, unfortunately, had been working with them nearly as long. "You don't even know what you just said."
"Yeah, I do. We don't leave people behind. Sam's coming for us."
"Daniel..."
"Made it back." He gripped her wrists. "Don't think for a second he didn't. Jackson and Teal'c have both made it through worse before."
She nodded, fighting for composure, and turned her attention back to her ankle. "The air's stale."
"I think it passed its expiration date a few million years ago."
She quirked a weak smile, and shook her head. "It's not moving. I've counted, and there's been no breeze."
He frowned. She was right. The air smelled like dust, as thick as it had during the attack. In the chaos, he hadn't noticed the lack of a change. "Maybe the Ancients didn't like drafts on their skeleships."
She sighed, and nodded, settling back against the wall. If he sluggishness persisted, he would find the medic and insist the woman examine Vala for a concussion instead of simply shock.
First, he had somewhere to check. "I'm going to go see if Doctor Rush has found the shift-stick on this thing. Stay here."
--
He hated desert planets. His shoulders ached from assisting Greer and Scott in carrying the sandstone, and his face would be an uncomfortable shade of red for the next week. It wouldn't be his turn for rations for another few hours, so the emergency canteen he'd gotten upon returning would have to do until then.
The important part was that they wouldn't all suffocate now. Not yet, anyway.
Vala frowned as she dabbed her moisturizer across his cheeks. He tried not to wince when the lotion stung the bridge of his nose. Without it, the damage would only be more long-lasting. "You're going to have to accept smelling like cherries, Mitchell. That doctor woman doesn't have anything better."
"M'sure I'll survive." He did wince at a dab to his cheek, and then grinned. "Maybe not so much my manhood."
"I'm sure you'll find something to yell at, or to shoot at soon enough, Mitchell. I'm just making sure you won't look like a delicious lobster while you do it."
"Maybe I want to lull it into a false sense of security, and make it easier."
"Smile at it, then." There was an uncomfortable sense of sincerity in her tone, as she settled down beside him.
“Vala...”
“She can't find us. She tried, and she can't.”
He touched her chin, and tilted her gaze toward him. “Give her time, Vala. Shell find a way. Jackson will find something. He said there's a recall device out there. He just has to find it.”
“When? In another year? Two?” She bit her lip, and shook her head, turning away. “I've gone looking for things with Daniel, too. Sometimes he doesn't ever find them.”
“Vala.”
“Even if he does...people are dying. People keep dying, and promises won't save them. How many more will die before Daniel and Sam find us?”
“Vala, look at me.” He turned to grab her shoulders, so she couldn't turn away again. “Sam and Jackson are looking for us. They will find us. They will get us out of here. They are not going to be too late, because we will not let them be too late. Do you understand me?” She nodded, “We are going to make it out of here. We are going to survive. We are going to deal with whatever this place throws at us, and we are going to make it home. Because...we are not quitters. We're not going to give up, and SG-1 is not going to give up on us.”
She summoned a small, amused smile, and buried her head against his chest. “You should write speeches.”
He gave a dry chuckle, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The ship shuddered and creaked in FTL, and a few voices cried out in alarm.
He might have spoken, to Vala or to the others, but for the slight, erratic trembling of her shoulder under his hand.
He gave a soft sigh, and tightened his grip. There was nothing he could do to stem her silent tears. He couldn't make anything better. He couldn't make anything less blatantly hopeless. Not for Vala, not for anyone on the ship.
Not even for himself.
Spoiler:
Dust and dirt burned at his eyes, as he sprinted down the hallway. Every tremor of the mountain dug into him, eating at his resolve. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be trying to evac. He should have been in an F-302, fighting the Alliance's fleet. Hell, he would have settled for a place on the Hammond. Anything to be up there, doing his job, not running back to Earth to regroup.
It didn't matter. For all his frustration, he had to make sure SG-1 got back him, just as much as Young and Telford had their squads to mind. If itd just been himself, he might have tried for a ring platform. As it stood, their best chance was the gate.
A violent shudder sent him crashing to the ground. He didn't need to wait for the dirt to settle to know a chunk of the corridor went with the crash.
"Daniel!" Vala leaped to her feet, and raced up to the wall of debris. Dimly, Cam noted a few others--maybe a medic--standing near the wall. He stumbled to his feet, and followed after Vala.
"Jackson! You there?"
Over the din of the continued assault, he could just make out a reply. "Fine! Go! -- make it --!"
Vala tugged at a piece of debris, "Mitchell, help me, we can dig out a hole so they can get through!"
Cam frowned, and glanced up at the ceiling, as the next wave of attacks hit. If this continued--and he had to expect it would--the base wouldn't last long. Not long enough to feasibly dig through the mess--if it could even be done without compromising the rest of the hallway--and not likely long enough for the Stargate to dial Earth and send another IDC.
He snatched Vala's flak vest, and dragged her down the corridor. "Move out, Vala."
"No!" Vala turned pleading eyes toward him, as she struggled in his grip. "We-we can't just leave them."
"There's nothing we can do. We have to go. Now!"
Vala made no response, but her struggling lost its vigor. They had to trust that Jackson and Teal'c would find their own way out. It was more than just SG-1 trapped on the other side of the debris. They would find their way out.
Young directed the crowd of people through the crowded gate, and paused only long enough to acknowledge his and Vala's presence. By the time they stepped through the Gate, the room itself threatened to collapse completely.
There was one small hitch to the trip. The dark room he stumbled into was not Earth's Gateroom.
He didn't have long to figure out why. A marine reached out to guide him out of the Stargate's path, giving a stern warning of some sort. Judging by the tone, the marine hadn't gotten a good look at him before he'd started following crowd control orders. Before he could respond, the room shook, and Young came flying through the gate, signaling the close of the gate.
Vala's thin hand snatched his as the woman clambered over to him, still adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. "Where are we?"
He shook his head, as chaos started to spread through the crowd.
This wasn't Earth. This wasn't the Theta site. Could it have been a wormhole glitch? Like the one the alternate SG-1 managed to trigger? He hadn't been present when the wormhole activated, so it was possible something strange could have happened. He needed to find someone who was before he could figure out.
For now, what, where, and how didn't matter yet. Medics swarmed Colonel Young, and the marines struggled to prevent all-out pandemonium. Right now, the most important thing to do was to step up and prevent people from getting killed before they could get answers.
So step up he did.
---
"I'm going to kill 'im." Vala bit her lip, as she nursed her sprained ankle. Cam wasn't certain if it came from the crashed hallway or the difficult landing. Either way, the lone qualified medic was far too taxed with the severe injuries--chiefly Colonel Young and Senator Armstrong--to tend to minor ones.
Cam wasn't particularly inclined to disagree with Vala's proposal. But that was beside the point.
"Sam'll be able to analyze the wormhole's energy output, and trace where we went. After that...it'll be no time for her to mimic it and come after us. With a miniature...Icarus model." It was a credit to how long he'd been working with SG-1 that he could bluff that much tech.
Vala, unfortunately, had been working with them nearly as long. "You don't even know what you just said."
"Yeah, I do. We don't leave people behind. Sam's coming for us."
"Daniel..."
"Made it back." He gripped her wrists. "Don't think for a second he didn't. Jackson and Teal'c have both made it through worse before."
She nodded, fighting for composure, and turned her attention back to her ankle. "The air's stale."
"I think it passed its expiration date a few million years ago."
She quirked a weak smile, and shook her head. "It's not moving. I've counted, and there's been no breeze."
He frowned. She was right. The air smelled like dust, as thick as it had during the attack. In the chaos, he hadn't noticed the lack of a change. "Maybe the Ancients didn't like drafts on their skeleships."
She sighed, and nodded, settling back against the wall. If he sluggishness persisted, he would find the medic and insist the woman examine Vala for a concussion instead of simply shock.
First, he had somewhere to check. "I'm going to go see if Doctor Rush has found the shift-stick on this thing. Stay here."
--
He hated desert planets. His shoulders ached from assisting Greer and Scott in carrying the sandstone, and his face would be an uncomfortable shade of red for the next week. It wouldn't be his turn for rations for another few hours, so the emergency canteen he'd gotten upon returning would have to do until then.
The important part was that they wouldn't all suffocate now. Not yet, anyway.
Vala frowned as she dabbed her moisturizer across his cheeks. He tried not to wince when the lotion stung the bridge of his nose. Without it, the damage would only be more long-lasting. "You're going to have to accept smelling like cherries, Mitchell. That doctor woman doesn't have anything better."
"M'sure I'll survive." He did wince at a dab to his cheek, and then grinned. "Maybe not so much my manhood."
"I'm sure you'll find something to yell at, or to shoot at soon enough, Mitchell. I'm just making sure you won't look like a delicious lobster while you do it."
"Maybe I want to lull it into a false sense of security, and make it easier."
"Smile at it, then." There was an uncomfortable sense of sincerity in her tone, as she settled down beside him.
“Vala...”
“She can't find us. She tried, and she can't.”
He touched her chin, and tilted her gaze toward him. “Give her time, Vala. Shell find a way. Jackson will find something. He said there's a recall device out there. He just has to find it.”
“When? In another year? Two?” She bit her lip, and shook her head, turning away. “I've gone looking for things with Daniel, too. Sometimes he doesn't ever find them.”
“Vala.”
“Even if he does...people are dying. People keep dying, and promises won't save them. How many more will die before Daniel and Sam find us?”
“Vala, look at me.” He turned to grab her shoulders, so she couldn't turn away again. “Sam and Jackson are looking for us. They will find us. They will get us out of here. They are not going to be too late, because we will not let them be too late. Do you understand me?” She nodded, “We are going to make it out of here. We are going to survive. We are going to deal with whatever this place throws at us, and we are going to make it home. Because...we are not quitters. We're not going to give up, and SG-1 is not going to give up on us.”
She summoned a small, amused smile, and buried her head against his chest. “You should write speeches.”
He gave a dry chuckle, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The ship shuddered and creaked in FTL, and a few voices cried out in alarm.
He might have spoken, to Vala or to the others, but for the slight, erratic trembling of her shoulder under his hand.
He gave a soft sigh, and tightened his grip. There was nothing he could do to stem her silent tears. He couldn't make anything better. He couldn't make anything less blatantly hopeless. Not for Vala, not for anyone on the ship.
Not even for himself.
I continue to hope that the current crew will be phased into a menagerie of SG-1 and Atlantis crews in five years. (I can dream!)
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