sex, drugs, rock & roll: challenge response by Neierathima
Title: untitled. I'm really bad at thinking of titles.
Author: neierathima
Challenge: Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll
Pairings: none specificially stated
Rating: R
Spoilers: none
Warnings? : not so much
Summary: Three things about the scientists bother the marines.
Notes: This is completely un-beta'd. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, there seems to be something off that I can't put my finger on. Hmm. Oh Well. I've been working on this since the challenge was posted and if I don't post it I will go crazy. Anyway. This is as much commentary on various fandom interpretations of canon as it is of canon itself. Ok, shutting up now.
Story now:
Three things about the scientists bother the marines. The first and most ubiquitous is rock and roll, the second, surprisingly, is sex, and the third, most insidious, most starkly offensive to military sensibilities, is drugs. That any of these would present a problem on the part of the scientists’ surprises the marines as well, especially the ones that have worked at the SGC for a while.
The SGC scientists do not evidence these problems. They are quiet, mostly, except when they have something important to say, and even then their intensity is mellowed. They work long hours then disappear home and return refreshed. They are opinionated, yes, but the scientists at the SGC generally fall in line with the military command.
The scientists who have elected to go on the Atlantis expedition are not like that.
They are loud. Walking into one of the science labs is like walking into a rock concert. Everybody screaming (at each other, at themselves, at equipment, at the marines), talking, laughing, debating, about anything and everything under any sun, moving through subjects so fast it is impossible to keep up, assuming they could understand in the first place. The music is like that too, speakers set up across rooms, corridors, with doors left open so you can hear Wagner cutting to AC/DC in the next lab over while the speakers in front of you blare tribal chants and the computer behind you croons Barry Manilow. All the marines (and Sheppard, though he covers well) wince just a little on entering this cacophony, no matter how wild their pasts (or present), but the scientists seem happily at home, moving each with their own rhythm to the chaos that hums in the air.
They do not sleep. Occasionally they collapse on the nearest horizontal or mostly horizontal surface for a few hours, but, in general, when told to relax they resort to their hobbies, primarily involving a) various geek subcultures b) theoretical research in their chosen field c) work on the subject they minored in as opposed the ones they got their PhD’s in or d) some combination of the above. Even the medical doctors, the chief promoters of regular sleep are to be found during the night rotation in their labs, claiming to need just a few more minutes to finish this one experiment. Escorting scientists to their rooms and cajoling them into bed, where they promptly fall asleep, exhausted, works as a temporary stop-gap, but it takes constant observation to prevent burn out.
They have sex. A lot. They do this in completely inappropriate places and in wildly unbelievable combinations. “Couples” is only a generally applicable term. Their romantic practices are as completely unfathomable as their science. All rules of fraternization or public decency are completely foreign to them. Rumor has it that at least a quarter of the official and unofficial science department staff meetings are to deal with disputes of a “personal nature”. It doesn’t seem to affect their productivity, just the volume and content of their screaming matches.
They do not obey orders. They don’t actively defy them or rebel against the military influence; they just seem to have absolutely no respect for authority as a group. Dr. McKay’s orders seem to be followed only as long as he can prove he’s smarter than them, yet when he makes a mistake they gather around him with a fierce loyalty. The scientists seem to have no organizational structure or hierarchy of any sort but things get done, efficiently and with time enough left over for a game nights in one of the meeting rooms. In the field they bitch, whine, wander off, disagree, and flat out ignore orders but they always pull through with a grace that bespeaks more than mere luck or self-preservation.
All of this amuses, bothers, annoys, and occasionally worries the marines, but what scares them shitless is the drugs. Not anything illegal, though there are few that bear careful watching. It’s the legal stimulants that worry them. Caffeinated beverages are consumed more than water by the science staff. Without caffeine (tea, coffee, whatever) they get jittery, irritable, and on edge. If you asked any scientists if they would rather find half full ZPM or a coffee plantation, they would all answer the ZPM, but they would have to think about it first. During the really rough times, when the entire city is nose to the wire, Dr. Beckett doesn’t hesitate long to hand out the stimulants and the scientists don’t hesitate at all to use them. The way they push their bodies, the way they ride the raggedy edge of too-much-too-fast makes it clear they’ve all done this before. It’s the little sliver of need underneath it all that puts the marines on edge.
These things add up. The scientists are good, but they aren’t indestructible, and every new challenge means a little more weight they have to carry. So the marines watch, because they are trained to do so, and they wait, because pushing the subject will only make enemies out of the scientists, and they worry, because it is their job to protect the scientists, even if that means protecting them from themselves.
~End~
Author: neierathima
Challenge: Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll
Pairings: none specificially stated
Rating: R
Spoilers: none
Warnings? : not so much
Summary: Three things about the scientists bother the marines.
Notes: This is completely un-beta'd. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, there seems to be something off that I can't put my finger on. Hmm. Oh Well. I've been working on this since the challenge was posted and if I don't post it I will go crazy. Anyway. This is as much commentary on various fandom interpretations of canon as it is of canon itself. Ok, shutting up now.
Story now:
Three things about the scientists bother the marines. The first and most ubiquitous is rock and roll, the second, surprisingly, is sex, and the third, most insidious, most starkly offensive to military sensibilities, is drugs. That any of these would present a problem on the part of the scientists’ surprises the marines as well, especially the ones that have worked at the SGC for a while.
The SGC scientists do not evidence these problems. They are quiet, mostly, except when they have something important to say, and even then their intensity is mellowed. They work long hours then disappear home and return refreshed. They are opinionated, yes, but the scientists at the SGC generally fall in line with the military command.
The scientists who have elected to go on the Atlantis expedition are not like that.
They are loud. Walking into one of the science labs is like walking into a rock concert. Everybody screaming (at each other, at themselves, at equipment, at the marines), talking, laughing, debating, about anything and everything under any sun, moving through subjects so fast it is impossible to keep up, assuming they could understand in the first place. The music is like that too, speakers set up across rooms, corridors, with doors left open so you can hear Wagner cutting to AC/DC in the next lab over while the speakers in front of you blare tribal chants and the computer behind you croons Barry Manilow. All the marines (and Sheppard, though he covers well) wince just a little on entering this cacophony, no matter how wild their pasts (or present), but the scientists seem happily at home, moving each with their own rhythm to the chaos that hums in the air.
They do not sleep. Occasionally they collapse on the nearest horizontal or mostly horizontal surface for a few hours, but, in general, when told to relax they resort to their hobbies, primarily involving a) various geek subcultures b) theoretical research in their chosen field c) work on the subject they minored in as opposed the ones they got their PhD’s in or d) some combination of the above. Even the medical doctors, the chief promoters of regular sleep are to be found during the night rotation in their labs, claiming to need just a few more minutes to finish this one experiment. Escorting scientists to their rooms and cajoling them into bed, where they promptly fall asleep, exhausted, works as a temporary stop-gap, but it takes constant observation to prevent burn out.
They have sex. A lot. They do this in completely inappropriate places and in wildly unbelievable combinations. “Couples” is only a generally applicable term. Their romantic practices are as completely unfathomable as their science. All rules of fraternization or public decency are completely foreign to them. Rumor has it that at least a quarter of the official and unofficial science department staff meetings are to deal with disputes of a “personal nature”. It doesn’t seem to affect their productivity, just the volume and content of their screaming matches.
They do not obey orders. They don’t actively defy them or rebel against the military influence; they just seem to have absolutely no respect for authority as a group. Dr. McKay’s orders seem to be followed only as long as he can prove he’s smarter than them, yet when he makes a mistake they gather around him with a fierce loyalty. The scientists seem to have no organizational structure or hierarchy of any sort but things get done, efficiently and with time enough left over for a game nights in one of the meeting rooms. In the field they bitch, whine, wander off, disagree, and flat out ignore orders but they always pull through with a grace that bespeaks more than mere luck or self-preservation.
All of this amuses, bothers, annoys, and occasionally worries the marines, but what scares them shitless is the drugs. Not anything illegal, though there are few that bear careful watching. It’s the legal stimulants that worry them. Caffeinated beverages are consumed more than water by the science staff. Without caffeine (tea, coffee, whatever) they get jittery, irritable, and on edge. If you asked any scientists if they would rather find half full ZPM or a coffee plantation, they would all answer the ZPM, but they would have to think about it first. During the really rough times, when the entire city is nose to the wire, Dr. Beckett doesn’t hesitate long to hand out the stimulants and the scientists don’t hesitate at all to use them. The way they push their bodies, the way they ride the raggedy edge of too-much-too-fast makes it clear they’ve all done this before. It’s the little sliver of need underneath it all that puts the marines on edge.
These things add up. The scientists are good, but they aren’t indestructible, and every new challenge means a little more weight they have to carry. So the marines watch, because they are trained to do so, and they wait, because pushing the subject will only make enemies out of the scientists, and they worry, because it is their job to protect the scientists, even if that means protecting them from themselves.
~End~