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Tuesday, December 24th, 2013 07:54 pm
Here's the second 400-word ficlet! This one is for [personal profile] thothmes. You'll find her prompt below the ficlet to avoid spoiling the punchline. :)

Summary: The team is on the alert for danger! Rated G, and just the tiniest bit cracky.

Danger, Will Robinson!

"Stay sharp," Jack ordered as the Gate snapped shut. "Where there's naquadah, there's usually Jaffa."

Teal'c, studying the ground, frowned. "I see no signs of recent activity, O'Neill. A base might be already long established."

"Just our luck if there was," Jack muttered. He glanced over at the DHD. "All right there?"

"Everything's good," Daniel reported.

"Sir, the naquadah reading's pretty strong. Bearing... due east." Sam fiddled with her sensors. "I'd guess half a klick away, maybe a bit more."

"Let's move out, then." Jack glared uneasily at the clear green sky. It was too quiet, too peaceful. The shoe was going to drop any minute, he just knew it.

But it didn't.

The absence of trees on the broad meadow meant an ambush was impossible. They walked easily through the long grasses, seeing nothing bigger than the alien equivalent of a butterfly and, once, something the size of a mouse.

Teal'c's frown deepened as the silence around them grew. Sam gripped her rifle a little more tightly. Even Daniel kept glancing over his shoulder.

The low hill which housed the opening to the mine was the only thing interrupting the sameness of the plain. The others kept back as Daniel carefully examined the shored-up entrance, then ventured a little inside.

"It's okay," he said finally, ducking his head as he came back outdoors.

"You don't sound very convinced," Jack said sharply.

"Oh, I am. It's perfectly solid. I wasn't expecting an abandoned mine to be in such good condition, that's all. Barring earthquakes, it should be stable for decades to come."

As one, they all froze, gazes focused downwards, waiting for the ground to start trembling beneath them. Nothing happened, though, and feeling a little sheepish, they snapped on flashlights and ventured inside....

Hours later, the iris scissored open and SG-1 walked though the event horizon. Even from the control room, Hammond could see their widened, stretched eyes. Teal'c actually looked perturbed.

"What happened?" he called anxiously through the microphone.

"We're fine, sir." Jack replied, his voice slightly dazed. "That mine's just what we need. Carter estimates there's enough naquadah left in there to make half a dozen generators at least."

Hammond frowned. "Then what's the problem, Colonel?"

"Nothing. It all went... fine."

"Fine," echoed Carter and Jackson, blinking.

Hammond leaned towards Harriman. "Tell Fraiser to check them out thoroughly," he instructed quietly. "In isolation, just in case."


[personal profile] thothmes prompted, "The all-team freak out (suitably restrained on Teal'c's part) after a mission goes totally right and as originally planned, and without incident."
sid: (Xmas Daniel naughty list)
[personal profile] sid
Tuesday, December 24th, 2013 07:20 pm (UTC)
What a great prompt! And you did a fabulous, hilarious job with it! :-D
Sunday, January 5th, 2014 08:07 pm (UTC)
Not that anyone on base would have read it, but George Hammond's performance review that had recommended him for promotion to Brigadier had made specific mention of his miraculous calm and unflappability. "Colonel Hammond, even in the most difficult and dangerous situations remains an island of calm in the storm, evaluating materiel, tactical position, and probable action by the enemy. He does have a passionate temper, but exercises full and masterful restraint upon it. Both his courage and his wisdom have been amply demonstrated by his career record to date, and it is this officer's opinion that he should be not only retained, but promoted to the rank and responsibilities of Brigadier General. He is a fine example of all that is best in the Air Force tradition, and one of the finest officers it has ever been my privilege to command," it read.

General Bennington would not recognize the man he had recommended in such glowing terms all those years ago. This man had beads of sweat across his bare scalp, and he brushed those that trickled down his brow towards his eyes away with an already dampened handkerchief. With shaking hands, he poured himself a stiff glass of Kentucky bourbon, slopping some of the precious liquid upon his desk, although he was too preoccupied to notice it. He knocked the drink back with a haste and desperation that was distinctly unbecoming of a man, an officer, who was the bedrock foundation of a vital and top secret command. This man was haunted.

Three utterly routine, completely-as-planned, successful missions by SG-1, with out so much as a hangnail that Dr. Fraiser could diagnose. George Hammond was worried, very worried. The Universe, he had discovered, tended to balance these things out in the long run.

Something terrible was coming. Something unknown. Something he could do nothing to prepare for or avert.

With a sigh he shrugged himself into his jacket, buttoning the buttons with hands that shook measurably less, and stood for a moment in rueful contemplation. Seeing no alternatives, no moves he could make, he opened a drawer in his desk, took out a strong breath mint, popped it in his mouth, and walked out the door and down the circular stairs to the Control Room.

By the time he arrived he had himself firmly under control, although unbeknownst to him Sgt. Harriman was wondering why, when on duty, and mid-dial, he was suddenly thinking about peppermint schnapps.

The gate bloomed and settled, and Hammond nodded down at the team before the ramp, which was waiting expectantly for his order.

"God speed, SG-1!" he said, and he prided himself that his voice emerged in its usual register.

Oh hell! Was that a nervous drumming Jack's left hand had been beating out on his thigh?

"I'm getting too old for this!" Hammond muttered.


I'm glad that one of the prompts worked, and worked so well. I loved the moment when they all awaited the earthquake!

You know that when I offer more than one prompt it is out of a sense that some prompts just won't "go" for an individual, not out of a greedy desire to get many fics, don't you? Not that I would complain at many fics, mind you, but I certainly don't expect them.