[Stargate: Drabble] "Burdens of Command" [SG-22, PG]
Title: Burdens of Command
Prompt: writerverse challenge #37 ‘quick fic amnesty’ (‘leader’ & ‘cold comfort’)
Word Count: 234
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Pairings (if any) none
Warnings: none
Summary: Gryffydd does whatever is needed to protect her team.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
Burdens of Command
It was their third mission as a team, and Gryffydd had gotten them captured.
Well, all right, maybe there hadn’t actually been anything she could have done about it- the Jaffa had surrounded them, six-to-one, and ‘zatted all four of them before they could get off more than a few rounds.
So, now they were trapped in a naquadah mine on one of Hecate’s planets (Roman goddess of the Underworld/very minor Goa’uld) with no weapons, no gear, and no way home.
“You will work or you will die,” the Jaffa guard told them.
“Right,” said Gryffydd. “Just one question. Is this a union gig?”
That had earned her a staff-weapon to the gut and the mark of troublemaker, but Gryffydd didn’t mind. Because if the guards were concentrating on her, then they wouldn’t be paying that much attention to her team. Of course, it was slightly less of a great plan two days and three bruised-and-possibly-broken ribs later, not to mention the split lip she kept re-injuring that made it difficult to eat even the tasteless mush they were fed.
But her team was safe, that was the important part, Gryffydd reminded herself, as she ignored the dull throb of her ribs. Getting hurt didn’t matter as long as she got her boys home.
And when they finally found a way to get back to Earth, she was the last one through the ‘gate.
THE END
Current Mood:
amused
Prompt: writerverse challenge #37 ‘quick fic amnesty’ (‘leader’ & ‘cold comfort’)
Word Count: 234
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Stargate SG-1 ( SG-22, original characters)
Pairings (if any) none
Warnings: none
Summary: Gryffydd does whatever is needed to protect her team.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_bookclub
Burdens of Command
It was their third mission as a team, and Gryffydd had gotten them captured.
Well, all right, maybe there hadn’t actually been anything she could have done about it- the Jaffa had surrounded them, six-to-one, and ‘zatted all four of them before they could get off more than a few rounds.
So, now they were trapped in a naquadah mine on one of Hecate’s planets (Roman goddess of the Underworld/very minor Goa’uld) with no weapons, no gear, and no way home.
“You will work or you will die,” the Jaffa guard told them.
“Right,” said Gryffydd. “Just one question. Is this a union gig?”
That had earned her a staff-weapon to the gut and the mark of troublemaker, but Gryffydd didn’t mind. Because if the guards were concentrating on her, then they wouldn’t be paying that much attention to her team. Of course, it was slightly less of a great plan two days and three bruised-and-possibly-broken ribs later, not to mention the split lip she kept re-injuring that made it difficult to eat even the tasteless mush they were fed.
But her team was safe, that was the important part, Gryffydd reminded herself, as she ignored the dull throb of her ribs. Getting hurt didn’t matter as long as she got her boys home.
And when they finally found a way to get back to Earth, she was the last one through the ‘gate.
THE END
Current Mood:
amused