Stargate SG-1/Doctor Who - Christmas at the SGC
I wrote this ages ago, figured I might as well post it. I think I'll start posting more fics to LJ when I write them.
Fandoms: Stargate SG-1 and Doctor Who
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Summary: The SGC side of the Christmas Invasion.
Warnings: Spoilers for Doctor Who's Christmas Invasion. Set at an indeterminate time for SG-1.
The SGC cafeteria was packed with people, off and on duty airmen and officers vying for the prime tables near the tv that was broadcasting CNN. As the highest ranking officers on base, as well as the most respected, the members of SG-1 had been ushered to front row seats, where they now lounged and half-listened to the announcer as they talked amongst themselves.
“Guinevere 1, huh?” Sam Carter mused, idly munching on her bucket of popcorn that had simply appeared at her elbow. “Britain’s really getting into the spirit, aren’t they?”
“Such a shame we can’t tell tem we beat them to it,” Jack grinned, popping a kernel into his mouth.
“Depending on what happens in the next few years, we may actually get to tell them that,” Sam noted. “Of course, until then we’ve got to watch them to keep them from doing anything stupid, like trying to ally with the Goa’uld or something.”
“That would fall under the category of ‘something stupid,’” Daniel agreed. They all quieted down when Harriet Jones, British Prime Minister, came onto the television, reading a pre-written speech on how they were reaching out to the stars and some other nonsense that nonetheless had people flocking after her. They didn’t pay much attention to her actual words, but they did watch when Guinevere 1 suddenly vanished off the radar.
“Space eddy or something,” Sam mused, although she didn’t sound convinced. “We’ll get the feed back pretty soon, and we’ll start seeing pictures of Mars.”
“You think the President would let us go there in the X-302?” Jack asked wistfully. “We could go put up a sign: US 1, Britain 0.”
“Funny, sir,” Sam said dryly. “I think that would defeat the purpose of being classified.”
They bantered like that for a good few moments until a British scientist, the man who had built Guinevere 1 and sent her into space, appeared on the tv, proclaiming that they had regained contact with the probe, and she would be sending back pictures shortly. Chatter in the SGC cafeteria quieted at that, holding their breath for the first picture.
What they got a second later wasn’t what they were expecting. An alien face, a race no one had ever seen before, greeted the people of Earth for the first time.
Ten minutes later they had relocated from the cafeteria to the main briefing room, regretfully leaving behind the popcorn. The whole of the SGC was scrambling to meet this new alien ship, though whether they were friendly or not remained to be seen.
“What’s going on, General?” Jack demanded. “What happened to the probe?”
“As far as we can tell, there’s an alien ship several thousand miles away and closing. They picked up Guinevere 1 5000 miles from Mars, and now they’re on their way here. We don’t know their motives, nor what kind of technology they possess, but for now we’re treating them as hostile, though we’re not going to attack until they give us more information,” General Hammond related to his team. “Britain’s put out a cover story about some kids hacking the television satellites, but not many people believe them. The President’s trying to take command of the situation, but Prime Minister Jones is refusing to let him, and we can’t exactly tell them why we need to be in charge. That’s all the information I have for right now.” He looked around the table, where Jack was twirling a pen, Sam was scribbling on a pad of paper, numbers spilling out in an organized mess, Daniel was studying photos of the alien, chewing on his pen as he mumbled something under his breath. Only Teal’c had actually paid attention, and he bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“What shall we do in the meantime, General?” the Jaffa asked tonelessly.
“Wait somewhere with a TV. Daniel, keep trying to figure out who they are. Sam, I don’t know what you’re working on, but keep doing it. Jack, stay with Teal’c. All offworld travel has been suspended until further notice, and we’re working on bringing our offworld teams home, so no need to worry about that.” Hammond took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dismissed.”
After a while had passed where panic degenerated into wary caution, the alien face appeared on the screen again, demanding something aggressively in a language that had never been heard on Earth before. Daniel listened to the recording several times before breaking his clipboard in frustration. The language had no Earth origin, and so all of his 27 languages were of no help whatsoever.
They received word that Britain had understood the demand and replied negatively, and a few minutes later one in three people in the SGC started climbing towards the outside, packing the elevators and pushing each other up the several sets of emergency stairs leading out to the open air. SG-1 was unaffected, but Hammond was, leaving Jack in charge by default. He ordered all personnel to prepare for an assault, and contacted the Tok’ra and the Asgard for help. The former had no ships close enough to help, and were all “on missions” anyway, while the latter said they would attempt to spare a ship, but it might take a while to get there.
Not long after that, Sam was watching CNN when an alien ship was caught on video by dozens of reporters from just as many countries, and felt a stab of both irritation and pleasure as she felt the non-existence of the Stargate program vanishing into nothing. She wouldn’t have to lie about where she lived anymore, but it would mean there would be civilians poking around. Which was the lesser of the two evils, she wondered?
Preparations in the works, Jack sat in Hammond’s office, taking a brief moment to collect himself. A TV was on in the other room, showing Harriet Jones in her office, so, hoping against hope, he went to the briefing room and turned up the volume. He caught her midsentence.
“-ease, Doctor, help us. If anyone knows the Doctor, or knows where he is, please, tell us. We need you Doctor. Please!”
“I think she’s lost it,” Jack sighed. “She didn’t even say which kind of doctor she needed.”
The Asgard ship arrived an hour later, but by then, the ship, for unknown reasons, was leaving.
“We have contacted the Sycorax ship,” Thor informed the whole of SG-1. Hammond was in his office, recovering from his bout of hypnosis, for that was apparently all it was. “They said that your world’s champion, a man called the Doctor, has won the challenger for your planet. Per their customs, they are leaving and will not return.”
“That’s a relief,” Jack sighed, watching news footage of the ship as it lifted out of the atmosphere. The scene changed to the ground, where Harriet Jones, her right-hand man, and four strangers had appeared on the street. One of the men was embracing the British Prime Minister warmly, not seeming to care that he was in a set of pajamas and a robe. The pajama-clad man walked back to the three other strangers, embracing them, as Jones went to her aid.
A moment later an energy beam lanced out into the sky, and the Sycorax ship vanished from the SGC’s sensors, leaving the whole of SG-1 speechless. Britain had murdered a ship full of beings that had been retreating, a cowardly act at the best of times, and Jack immediately began composing his angry letter.
Thor looked distinctly displeased. “The SGC had nothing to do with this, it is my great hope to believe.”
“We would never,” Jack seethed.
“Then I trust that the Stargate Program will do all in its power to prevent such from happening again,” the Asgard observed.
On the screen, CNN began rebroadcasting the attack, one reporter praising Jones while another criticized the low blow, and the scene changed again, to the robed man on the street confronting Jones, who didn’t seem fazed by her murder in the least. Jack turned away, adding a few expletives to his mental letter.
The next day, with Hammond back on the job and the Pentagon scrambling to find some way to break the news to the world as gently as possible, SG-1 was on its way home after a long day when it started snowing, not true snow, but ash from the ship.
Fandoms: Stargate SG-1 and Doctor Who
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Summary: The SGC side of the Christmas Invasion.
Warnings: Spoilers for Doctor Who's Christmas Invasion. Set at an indeterminate time for SG-1.
The SGC cafeteria was packed with people, off and on duty airmen and officers vying for the prime tables near the tv that was broadcasting CNN. As the highest ranking officers on base, as well as the most respected, the members of SG-1 had been ushered to front row seats, where they now lounged and half-listened to the announcer as they talked amongst themselves.
“Guinevere 1, huh?” Sam Carter mused, idly munching on her bucket of popcorn that had simply appeared at her elbow. “Britain’s really getting into the spirit, aren’t they?”
“Such a shame we can’t tell tem we beat them to it,” Jack grinned, popping a kernel into his mouth.
“Depending on what happens in the next few years, we may actually get to tell them that,” Sam noted. “Of course, until then we’ve got to watch them to keep them from doing anything stupid, like trying to ally with the Goa’uld or something.”
“That would fall under the category of ‘something stupid,’” Daniel agreed. They all quieted down when Harriet Jones, British Prime Minister, came onto the television, reading a pre-written speech on how they were reaching out to the stars and some other nonsense that nonetheless had people flocking after her. They didn’t pay much attention to her actual words, but they did watch when Guinevere 1 suddenly vanished off the radar.
“Space eddy or something,” Sam mused, although she didn’t sound convinced. “We’ll get the feed back pretty soon, and we’ll start seeing pictures of Mars.”
“You think the President would let us go there in the X-302?” Jack asked wistfully. “We could go put up a sign: US 1, Britain 0.”
“Funny, sir,” Sam said dryly. “I think that would defeat the purpose of being classified.”
They bantered like that for a good few moments until a British scientist, the man who had built Guinevere 1 and sent her into space, appeared on the tv, proclaiming that they had regained contact with the probe, and she would be sending back pictures shortly. Chatter in the SGC cafeteria quieted at that, holding their breath for the first picture.
What they got a second later wasn’t what they were expecting. An alien face, a race no one had ever seen before, greeted the people of Earth for the first time.
Ten minutes later they had relocated from the cafeteria to the main briefing room, regretfully leaving behind the popcorn. The whole of the SGC was scrambling to meet this new alien ship, though whether they were friendly or not remained to be seen.
“What’s going on, General?” Jack demanded. “What happened to the probe?”
“As far as we can tell, there’s an alien ship several thousand miles away and closing. They picked up Guinevere 1 5000 miles from Mars, and now they’re on their way here. We don’t know their motives, nor what kind of technology they possess, but for now we’re treating them as hostile, though we’re not going to attack until they give us more information,” General Hammond related to his team. “Britain’s put out a cover story about some kids hacking the television satellites, but not many people believe them. The President’s trying to take command of the situation, but Prime Minister Jones is refusing to let him, and we can’t exactly tell them why we need to be in charge. That’s all the information I have for right now.” He looked around the table, where Jack was twirling a pen, Sam was scribbling on a pad of paper, numbers spilling out in an organized mess, Daniel was studying photos of the alien, chewing on his pen as he mumbled something under his breath. Only Teal’c had actually paid attention, and he bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“What shall we do in the meantime, General?” the Jaffa asked tonelessly.
“Wait somewhere with a TV. Daniel, keep trying to figure out who they are. Sam, I don’t know what you’re working on, but keep doing it. Jack, stay with Teal’c. All offworld travel has been suspended until further notice, and we’re working on bringing our offworld teams home, so no need to worry about that.” Hammond took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dismissed.”
After a while had passed where panic degenerated into wary caution, the alien face appeared on the screen again, demanding something aggressively in a language that had never been heard on Earth before. Daniel listened to the recording several times before breaking his clipboard in frustration. The language had no Earth origin, and so all of his 27 languages were of no help whatsoever.
They received word that Britain had understood the demand and replied negatively, and a few minutes later one in three people in the SGC started climbing towards the outside, packing the elevators and pushing each other up the several sets of emergency stairs leading out to the open air. SG-1 was unaffected, but Hammond was, leaving Jack in charge by default. He ordered all personnel to prepare for an assault, and contacted the Tok’ra and the Asgard for help. The former had no ships close enough to help, and were all “on missions” anyway, while the latter said they would attempt to spare a ship, but it might take a while to get there.
Not long after that, Sam was watching CNN when an alien ship was caught on video by dozens of reporters from just as many countries, and felt a stab of both irritation and pleasure as she felt the non-existence of the Stargate program vanishing into nothing. She wouldn’t have to lie about where she lived anymore, but it would mean there would be civilians poking around. Which was the lesser of the two evils, she wondered?
Preparations in the works, Jack sat in Hammond’s office, taking a brief moment to collect himself. A TV was on in the other room, showing Harriet Jones in her office, so, hoping against hope, he went to the briefing room and turned up the volume. He caught her midsentence.
“-ease, Doctor, help us. If anyone knows the Doctor, or knows where he is, please, tell us. We need you Doctor. Please!”
“I think she’s lost it,” Jack sighed. “She didn’t even say which kind of doctor she needed.”
The Asgard ship arrived an hour later, but by then, the ship, for unknown reasons, was leaving.
“We have contacted the Sycorax ship,” Thor informed the whole of SG-1. Hammond was in his office, recovering from his bout of hypnosis, for that was apparently all it was. “They said that your world’s champion, a man called the Doctor, has won the challenger for your planet. Per their customs, they are leaving and will not return.”
“That’s a relief,” Jack sighed, watching news footage of the ship as it lifted out of the atmosphere. The scene changed to the ground, where Harriet Jones, her right-hand man, and four strangers had appeared on the street. One of the men was embracing the British Prime Minister warmly, not seeming to care that he was in a set of pajamas and a robe. The pajama-clad man walked back to the three other strangers, embracing them, as Jones went to her aid.
A moment later an energy beam lanced out into the sky, and the Sycorax ship vanished from the SGC’s sensors, leaving the whole of SG-1 speechless. Britain had murdered a ship full of beings that had been retreating, a cowardly act at the best of times, and Jack immediately began composing his angry letter.
Thor looked distinctly displeased. “The SGC had nothing to do with this, it is my great hope to believe.”
“We would never,” Jack seethed.
“Then I trust that the Stargate Program will do all in its power to prevent such from happening again,” the Asgard observed.
On the screen, CNN began rebroadcasting the attack, one reporter praising Jones while another criticized the low blow, and the scene changed again, to the robed man on the street confronting Jones, who didn’t seem fazed by her murder in the least. Jack turned away, adding a few expletives to his mental letter.
The next day, with Hammond back on the job and the Pentagon scrambling to find some way to break the news to the world as gently as possible, SG-1 was on its way home after a long day when it started snowing, not true snow, but ash from the ship.