SGA ficlets: leia, flux capacitors, and tiny houses made out of twigs
Roommates are having a party. I foresee little productivity tonight. Anyway, I wrote two commentfics on Wednesday, one for bratfarrar and on for ileliberte. Here they are, John, Teyla, Rodney in various combinations:
this should be a joke about Leia and flux capacitors
"So," John said mildly, trying for the I'm-unarmed finger wiggle. "When I said, 'What's the damage?' and you started bitching about mud on the way back to the gate, what you really meant was--"
"What I meant was not this," Rodney hissed.
John squinted vacantly at the woman at the front of the pack, sun-browned and braided, but she reflected the blankness right back at him, and John got another nudge in the kidneys from the guy behind. Her outfit covered her from neck to toe even in the heat--offworlders on a day trip. She wore a ring on every finger and a bottom-heavy figure eight in silver hanging from her neck. The girl had it too, and one of the men, stitched into his sleeve.
Rodney was going a little wild-eyed and pink about the edges staring at the girl with a streak of mud down her cheek, standing easily at the woman's shoulder, coiled and--springy, John thought. Young face, young trigger, young pogo-stick joints. The only good thing about the situation as far as John could see--well, there was the weather. He liked a good, hot summer.
"You sorta mislaid a decade or two, Rodney," John snapped.
"By accident," Rodney said, twisting away from the guy going through his pockets. "The anomaly--"
"This is wraith tech," said the guy, straightening with a creak of leather. A high neck of knit cotton showed over the collar of his jacket, out of season, and he was holding a small Wraith memory device in one hand. John shot Rodney a glare.
"I can explain?" Rodney said, high-pitched.
"Still working, too," the guy said to the woman with the braids. The teenage sidekick gave both of the Earthlings a lethal look, hands awkward on the butt of her pistol like she was more used to the bantos rods strapped to her back.
"We're on a deadline," the woman said. The guy searching them made a disgruntled little huff. She added blandly, "Are they Wraith worshipping scum or not?"
The three of them (minus the guy currently playing cowboy stick 'em up) got into a huddle. They must have been working together a long time because they just tilted their heads a half inch towards the center and dropped into a conversation of brow twitches and half sentences.
"Can I put in a vote for not?" John asked.
"Oh, oh, yes, I second that," Rodney said.
"There are no Wraith," the little one said and didn't quite hide the roll of her eyes with the turn of her head.
"Worshippers are rare when the Wraith have not awoken," the guy admitted, turning the memory device over and over his hands with interest.
"Not long yet," said the braided woman. For a moment, her expression broke down into fatigue. She shot John a narrow look. She pointed. "You--do you worship the wraith?"
Rodney stared desperately at him, shaking his head like he thought John needed a cheat sheet for this exam. John couldn't really help himself: "The slogan was catchy, but I had a problem with the meal plan."
She gave him a look from head to toe, dead serious. John started to regret his big mouth, but a half-second later, her pursed lips took on a friendly twist.
And then: "Teyla, lead them back to the gate. We'll dine with your father's people tonight."
The teenager stumbled in the middle of another eye roll. She rubbed at the fair hair falling in her face and managed to jam her pistol back in its holster before she said politely, "Please follow me."
"Right, of course," Rodney said weakly.
"Decades," John hissed, pulling his tac vest back on.
**
[This is part of my secret history of Teyla as a guerrilla resistance fighter against the Wraith. She was totally the organization's James Bond, and they're famous for actually destroying a cruise ship once. I mean, WOW. NO ONE does that. It was kind of an accident, but at least partially on purpose. And then they had a falling out and Teyla went away and likes to pretend she was a well-behaved teenager, instead of one who ran off and told her dad she knew what she was doing and didn't write for months as part of her crazy extremist group where she drank and smoked, and sort of maybe had an ill-advised love affair with one of the older charismatic leaders.
And then (in the not time travel version of this story), they meet some old members of the rebellion on Endor's moon, and Teyla's like *facepalm* while her team is all, '...how do you know these people?" Then Ronon says, "WAIT, WAIT, YOU WERE THE WRAITHKILLER KNOWN AS DEADLY FALCON?!?!" and she has to sign his posters, which, ok, got blown up, but he found some new ones in a vintage stall in some market.
The end.]
flower house
"I have not done this in a very long time," Teyla said. She adjusted the little twig house carefully, switching a blossom here and there and tightening a twist of grass rope. The wind teased at it, picking off loose petals from the clump of tiny lavender flowers and nearly tossing it off the rock.
"I wouldn't have known," John lied, handing up a sprig of twisty white flowers. He propped his elbow on the boulder edge and stuck his hand under his chin. His fingers smelled of unfamiliar spices.
Teyla poked him in the temple. She was frowning at the six inch structure, her head unconsciously matching its haphazard lean. "Hand me the other karpo fruit, please."
"The other one isn't good enough?"
The two smooth fruits fit into her palms. She shook her hand lightly, turning them. "This one is more brightly colored."
"You're sure this is going to work."
Teyla looked out over the plain, lips pressed together. There was a grass stem stuck to the top of her head. "As a girl, I was quite convinced."
John's eyes narrowed. "Oh really."
"Oh, yes," Teyla said. "Really."
"And you caught one, right? The rat house actually successfully had a rat in it. I ask only because the Omche seem attached to our rat-whispering ability."
"They are not rats, and they are said to be very fond of fruit." Teyla gave him an earnest look.
John sighed. "Never caught one, huh."
Teyla winced. "I had a cousin on another world who caught several. Perhaps... they were common on Athos."
"Oh, well," John said brightly, pushing himself up. "Watched pot never boils, etc, etc," and he stuck out a hand to help her down.
this should be a joke about Leia and flux capacitors
"So," John said mildly, trying for the I'm-unarmed finger wiggle. "When I said, 'What's the damage?' and you started bitching about mud on the way back to the gate, what you really meant was--"
"What I meant was not this," Rodney hissed.
John squinted vacantly at the woman at the front of the pack, sun-browned and braided, but she reflected the blankness right back at him, and John got another nudge in the kidneys from the guy behind. Her outfit covered her from neck to toe even in the heat--offworlders on a day trip. She wore a ring on every finger and a bottom-heavy figure eight in silver hanging from her neck. The girl had it too, and one of the men, stitched into his sleeve.
Rodney was going a little wild-eyed and pink about the edges staring at the girl with a streak of mud down her cheek, standing easily at the woman's shoulder, coiled and--springy, John thought. Young face, young trigger, young pogo-stick joints. The only good thing about the situation as far as John could see--well, there was the weather. He liked a good, hot summer.
"You sorta mislaid a decade or two, Rodney," John snapped.
"By accident," Rodney said, twisting away from the guy going through his pockets. "The anomaly--"
"This is wraith tech," said the guy, straightening with a creak of leather. A high neck of knit cotton showed over the collar of his jacket, out of season, and he was holding a small Wraith memory device in one hand. John shot Rodney a glare.
"I can explain?" Rodney said, high-pitched.
"Still working, too," the guy said to the woman with the braids. The teenage sidekick gave both of the Earthlings a lethal look, hands awkward on the butt of her pistol like she was more used to the bantos rods strapped to her back.
"We're on a deadline," the woman said. The guy searching them made a disgruntled little huff. She added blandly, "Are they Wraith worshipping scum or not?"
The three of them (minus the guy currently playing cowboy stick 'em up) got into a huddle. They must have been working together a long time because they just tilted their heads a half inch towards the center and dropped into a conversation of brow twitches and half sentences.
"Can I put in a vote for not?" John asked.
"Oh, oh, yes, I second that," Rodney said.
"There are no Wraith," the little one said and didn't quite hide the roll of her eyes with the turn of her head.
"Worshippers are rare when the Wraith have not awoken," the guy admitted, turning the memory device over and over his hands with interest.
"Not long yet," said the braided woman. For a moment, her expression broke down into fatigue. She shot John a narrow look. She pointed. "You--do you worship the wraith?"
Rodney stared desperately at him, shaking his head like he thought John needed a cheat sheet for this exam. John couldn't really help himself: "The slogan was catchy, but I had a problem with the meal plan."
She gave him a look from head to toe, dead serious. John started to regret his big mouth, but a half-second later, her pursed lips took on a friendly twist.
And then: "Teyla, lead them back to the gate. We'll dine with your father's people tonight."
The teenager stumbled in the middle of another eye roll. She rubbed at the fair hair falling in her face and managed to jam her pistol back in its holster before she said politely, "Please follow me."
"Right, of course," Rodney said weakly.
"Decades," John hissed, pulling his tac vest back on.
**
[This is part of my secret history of Teyla as a guerrilla resistance fighter against the Wraith. She was totally the organization's James Bond, and they're famous for actually destroying a cruise ship once. I mean, WOW. NO ONE does that. It was kind of an accident, but at least partially on purpose. And then they had a falling out and Teyla went away and likes to pretend she was a well-behaved teenager, instead of one who ran off and told her dad she knew what she was doing and didn't write for months as part of her crazy extremist group where she drank and smoked, and sort of maybe had an ill-advised love affair with one of the older charismatic leaders.
And then (in the not time travel version of this story), they meet some old members of the rebellion on Endor's moon, and Teyla's like *facepalm* while her team is all, '...how do you know these people?" Then Ronon says, "WAIT, WAIT, YOU WERE THE WRAITHKILLER KNOWN AS DEADLY FALCON?!?!" and she has to sign his posters, which, ok, got blown up, but he found some new ones in a vintage stall in some market.
The end.]
flower house
"I have not done this in a very long time," Teyla said. She adjusted the little twig house carefully, switching a blossom here and there and tightening a twist of grass rope. The wind teased at it, picking off loose petals from the clump of tiny lavender flowers and nearly tossing it off the rock.
"I wouldn't have known," John lied, handing up a sprig of twisty white flowers. He propped his elbow on the boulder edge and stuck his hand under his chin. His fingers smelled of unfamiliar spices.
Teyla poked him in the temple. She was frowning at the six inch structure, her head unconsciously matching its haphazard lean. "Hand me the other karpo fruit, please."
"The other one isn't good enough?"
The two smooth fruits fit into her palms. She shook her hand lightly, turning them. "This one is more brightly colored."
"You're sure this is going to work."
Teyla looked out over the plain, lips pressed together. There was a grass stem stuck to the top of her head. "As a girl, I was quite convinced."
John's eyes narrowed. "Oh really."
"Oh, yes," Teyla said. "Really."
"And you caught one, right? The rat house actually successfully had a rat in it. I ask only because the Omche seem attached to our rat-whispering ability."
"They are not rats, and they are said to be very fond of fruit." Teyla gave him an earnest look.
John sighed. "Never caught one, huh."
Teyla winced. "I had a cousin on another world who caught several. Perhaps... they were common on Athos."
"Oh, well," John said brightly, pushing himself up. "Watched pot never boils, etc, etc," and he stuck out a hand to help her down.