SG-1 fic: Five Earths Cameron Mitchell might have known (PG-13)
Title: Five Earths Cameron Mitchell might have known
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Words: About 1800
Summary: AU. Other possibilities.
Notes: Many thanks to rydra_wong for the suggestions and for catching my typos! Also, #2 was totally her idea.
1 - Earth: Asgard Protectorate
It's harvest time, the air edged with a crisp coolness that makes Cameron want to breathe deeply. All around him, the wheat is heavy in the fields, just waiting for the harvest teams to arrive and begin their work.
Silently, he makes a brief prayer to Freyr, asking for the harvest days to be bright and clear, not the days upon days of rain that plagued them last year.
He looks up to the sky, as he does day after day, and it isn't long before he sees a brief flash of light, the passing of something high above him. Lately, the flashes have been more and more frequent. The priests say that the Gods are returning, bringing powers and gifts for their people.
Some, the priests whisper, will be offered the chance to leave, to go with the Gods, see their domain.
There will be tests first, tests of bravery and strength and wit. The tests are open to all.
As Cameron watches another flash, this one brighter, longer, he knows that after the harvest, he will say his goodbyes. He'll go to take the tests, and the Gods will smile down upon him.
He'll leave behind the clean smells of wheat and dirt and labour, and he won't regret it.
2 - The one where the Tok'ra are more than remote allies
He remembers it in a haze, snatches of words and explanations and a complete lack of sensation below his waist. He remembers his fingers were numb, and his mouth felt too big, too awkward, to speak properly.
The words were 'crash' and 'paralysis' and 'rehabilitation maybe'. They were mixed up with memories of snow and Antarctica and lights flashing through the sky. And then finally, after the doctors stopped talking and making excuses, General O'Neill came.
His words were 'Tok'ra' and 'symbiote' and 'host' and 'alliance'. Cameron had struggled to understand, even through the haze and confusion.
And then, he'd said yes.
*
"Hey, Marty!" Cameron smiles across the cafeteria, and inside, he hears an annoyed, amused snort. Nicknames, apparently, are a juvenile Tau'ri trait, and Cameron sometimes can't quite resist.
Martouf doesn't look annoyed precisely. His expression is welcoming in the reserved way that only the Tok'ra have.
Cameron ignores the patient, silent, reminder that he is now also a Tok'ra.
"Hey," he says again, when he finally gets his food and arrives at the table. "Ready for the mission?" He asks it out of reflex, because he knows that Martouf is ready, that he was ready before he even suggested the destination.
"I believe I am."
"So you really believe it might be an Ancient outpost?"
"The possibility is high." Martouf smiles now, eager. "I find myself frequently wondering what we will find there."
"High hopes." Cameron says.
"Exactly, Colonel." He pauses before asking, "How is your transition going? Are you finding joining with Tekesh rewarding?"
"Heck, I'm not in a wheelchair, so yeah, I'd say rewarding. Except for how mouthy the guy is. Hey. Is Lantash that mouthy? Jacob doesn't seem to have the same problem." He grins as he says it, partially because messing with Martouf is a good pastime, and partially be Tekesh's thoughts are indignant and highly, highly amusing.
Martouf looks momentarily nonplussed, and then Lantash takes over. "You would be encouraged to appreciate Tekesh in less trivial terms." When Lantash is done, Martouf looks mildly apologetic.
Cameron shrugs it off. He knows all about it.
"You do not sound happy."
It's tempting to keep up with it - to goad Lantash, mostly - but Cameron doesn't like the way Martouf is frowning at him, brow wrinkled, air of calm skewed.
"Naw. I'm just messing with you. I'm good. We're good." And they are, although sometimes Cameron wonders if they deliberately matched him with the one and only Tok'ra smart-ass out there.
No matter how many times Tekesh claimed it had simply been a matter of availability.
He grins, and lets Tekesh take over. "Cameron is an interesting host, Lantash. You are too literal. As the Tau'ri say, perhaps you need to loosen up." Tekesh has never liked Lantash. He frequently tells Cameron that Martouf got the short end of the stick in the joining. "Stick in the mud is another expression that comes to mind," Tekesh continues, his voice now silky.
Martouf's eyes flash, his expression suddenly aggravated and furious.
But Lantash keeps his mouth shut, this time.
Inside, Cameron is laughing. He wonders if Martouf is too.
3 - Earth: Asgard Subjugated World #237
The Gods have returned. Even if Cameron hadn't seen their ships land himself, he'd know they were here from the way people walk too quickly, heads bowed. No one wants to attract attention, even while everyone is preparing for the ceremony.
"How many this time?" he asks, keeping to the shadows, keeping his voice low.
Samantha doesn't flinch when she says, "Fifty. All under the age of twenty. Equally women and men. No children."
At least it isn't children this time, although there will be small ones left behind without a mother or father. Or both. The Gods prefer couples who have proven success at making children. No one says it out loud, but they all know this truth, and they all wonder why.
Answers are never given. And Cameron decided long ago that he would never father a child.
"Who's choosing them?"
Samantha smoothes her hand over her long, fine, hair, an unconscious movement. "The Gods will choose, this time. We are to assemble all who are appropriate in the centre of the village."
"Shit."
She looks away from his language - the priestesses of the Gods do not use such unbecoming words. But she doesn't contradict him. "We have three days. The ceremony of welcome must be completed first." There's a long pause before she asks, "And what of your plans?"
He wonders how much she knows. She feeds him pieces of information, which he in turn shares with members of the rebellion. He doesn't share everything with her, though. Perhaps she is a true ally, perhaps not. "How many of them will be leaving the ship itself?"
"I am uncertain. At least four."
He nods, lets her think that the Gods in the village will be the only target. He wonders if she knows of the Goa'uld Apophis who came here, after the last harvest, speaking to them of freedom, and better, faster ways to find that freedom. The Jaffa - allies of the Goa'uld, and fighers the like Cameron has never seen - have been careful to stay hidden, even Teal'c, who has accompanied Cameron on many, many scouting missions.
Perhaps she knows of Apophis, and the Jaffa, but he doubts that Samantha knows of the plan to destroy the ship, and everything inside it. Still, he's careful not to look away as she watches him intently.
Finally, she wraps her cloak back around herself, and prepares to step into the sunshine. "Good luck," she whispers.
Cameron thinks of the Goa'uld weapons - things of magic and power, things Teal'c has taught him and the others to wield - and he knows he won't need luck.
4 - The one where he doesn't get what he wants
"SG-1, you're clear to go," Walter says over the intercom.
Cameron salutes loosely, and follows his team through the 'gate.
On the other side, he watches as they adjust to the bright sunlight, to the overly humid air. They're getting better, starting to work together in a way he hadn't thought would be possible. They know each other, they trust each other.
They trust him.
They're a good team. "Anything interesting?" he asks, surveying the area.
"It's odd." Dr. Rao says. "So humid, but no dense vegetation."
Yeah, it looks arid, almost barren. "Any ideas why?"
She shakes her head. "I need a little time, Colonel."
He grins at her tone, so precise, so annoyed. "Right. You've got your time."
He watches as she heads off, stride purposeful, already telling Fowler what to do. "Come on," he says to Donalds, "let's check out the perimeter."
They're a good team. Great, even. And if sometimes he wonders what Sam Carter is doing, or how Daniel Jackson likes the Pegasus Galaxy, or what it might have been to know Teal'c, he brushes the thoughts aside. They're not going to get him anywhere.
5 - The one where Cameron should have died right away
The crater is bigger than anything he could have imagined. It would probably take months to walk the edge of it, weeks to walk across it. Not that Cameron will ever walk across it. He has no idea what the area is contaminated with, but almost a year since the attack, there are no signs of vegetation growing, not even the most determined of weeds.
This isn't the only crater in North America, and he's sure the other continents didn't do any better. Still, this is probably the largest.
"The 'gate probably amplified the explosion," Carter had said when they first arrived, took in the devastation. "I'm just surprised it didn't take out half the continent."
Cameron wasn't surprised. "They didn't want to kill us all at once. They want something more, something lasting," he'd replied. "They want to make us suffer."
The craters - the millions dead because of them - had just been the first step. Disasters have come in waves, some clearly artificial, some due to infrastructural collapse.
Food shortages. Contaminated water. Earthquakes. Disease. And after each new crisis, they'd watched new pockets of survivors fall, heads bowed, before the Priors and the Ori.
Travel is almost impossible, and they made slow, aching progress on the way here. And now that they're here, there's nowhere to go. The thought of hitting the road again just makes Cameron want to sit down, lie down, stare at the endless grey sky. Only Teal'c had taken the travel with relative ease, the symbiote protecting him, lending its strength, easing his way. Only Teal'c is prepared for more.
He hears Teal'c behind him, and is, once more, relieved that the tretonin plan had never gotten off the ground. "Losing your touch," he says, but can't quite manage a smile.
"Perhaps," Teal'c responds, pretending that he doesn't let Cameron hear him coming. "They are not improving."
Cameron knows they aren't. He knows that Carter and Jackson are getting worse, that their skin is flaking off in patches, that they can't keep anything, even water, down. He knows because he's almost there, too. "What about you?"
"I appear to be unaffected."
"Good. At least -" one of us is, he doesn't finish.
There's no response, not even an inclination of Teal'c's head.
Cameron's almost out of words too.
End.
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Rating: PG-13
Words: About 1800
Summary: AU. Other possibilities.
Notes: Many thanks to rydra_wong for the suggestions and for catching my typos! Also, #2 was totally her idea.
1 - Earth: Asgard Protectorate
It's harvest time, the air edged with a crisp coolness that makes Cameron want to breathe deeply. All around him, the wheat is heavy in the fields, just waiting for the harvest teams to arrive and begin their work.
Silently, he makes a brief prayer to Freyr, asking for the harvest days to be bright and clear, not the days upon days of rain that plagued them last year.
He looks up to the sky, as he does day after day, and it isn't long before he sees a brief flash of light, the passing of something high above him. Lately, the flashes have been more and more frequent. The priests say that the Gods are returning, bringing powers and gifts for their people.
Some, the priests whisper, will be offered the chance to leave, to go with the Gods, see their domain.
There will be tests first, tests of bravery and strength and wit. The tests are open to all.
As Cameron watches another flash, this one brighter, longer, he knows that after the harvest, he will say his goodbyes. He'll go to take the tests, and the Gods will smile down upon him.
He'll leave behind the clean smells of wheat and dirt and labour, and he won't regret it.
2 - The one where the Tok'ra are more than remote allies
He remembers it in a haze, snatches of words and explanations and a complete lack of sensation below his waist. He remembers his fingers were numb, and his mouth felt too big, too awkward, to speak properly.
The words were 'crash' and 'paralysis' and 'rehabilitation maybe'. They were mixed up with memories of snow and Antarctica and lights flashing through the sky. And then finally, after the doctors stopped talking and making excuses, General O'Neill came.
His words were 'Tok'ra' and 'symbiote' and 'host' and 'alliance'. Cameron had struggled to understand, even through the haze and confusion.
And then, he'd said yes.
*
"Hey, Marty!" Cameron smiles across the cafeteria, and inside, he hears an annoyed, amused snort. Nicknames, apparently, are a juvenile Tau'ri trait, and Cameron sometimes can't quite resist.
Martouf doesn't look annoyed precisely. His expression is welcoming in the reserved way that only the Tok'ra have.
Cameron ignores the patient, silent, reminder that he is now also a Tok'ra.
"Hey," he says again, when he finally gets his food and arrives at the table. "Ready for the mission?" He asks it out of reflex, because he knows that Martouf is ready, that he was ready before he even suggested the destination.
"I believe I am."
"So you really believe it might be an Ancient outpost?"
"The possibility is high." Martouf smiles now, eager. "I find myself frequently wondering what we will find there."
"High hopes." Cameron says.
"Exactly, Colonel." He pauses before asking, "How is your transition going? Are you finding joining with Tekesh rewarding?"
"Heck, I'm not in a wheelchair, so yeah, I'd say rewarding. Except for how mouthy the guy is. Hey. Is Lantash that mouthy? Jacob doesn't seem to have the same problem." He grins as he says it, partially because messing with Martouf is a good pastime, and partially be Tekesh's thoughts are indignant and highly, highly amusing.
Martouf looks momentarily nonplussed, and then Lantash takes over. "You would be encouraged to appreciate Tekesh in less trivial terms." When Lantash is done, Martouf looks mildly apologetic.
Cameron shrugs it off. He knows all about it.
"You do not sound happy."
It's tempting to keep up with it - to goad Lantash, mostly - but Cameron doesn't like the way Martouf is frowning at him, brow wrinkled, air of calm skewed.
"Naw. I'm just messing with you. I'm good. We're good." And they are, although sometimes Cameron wonders if they deliberately matched him with the one and only Tok'ra smart-ass out there.
No matter how many times Tekesh claimed it had simply been a matter of availability.
He grins, and lets Tekesh take over. "Cameron is an interesting host, Lantash. You are too literal. As the Tau'ri say, perhaps you need to loosen up." Tekesh has never liked Lantash. He frequently tells Cameron that Martouf got the short end of the stick in the joining. "Stick in the mud is another expression that comes to mind," Tekesh continues, his voice now silky.
Martouf's eyes flash, his expression suddenly aggravated and furious.
But Lantash keeps his mouth shut, this time.
Inside, Cameron is laughing. He wonders if Martouf is too.
3 - Earth: Asgard Subjugated World #237
The Gods have returned. Even if Cameron hadn't seen their ships land himself, he'd know they were here from the way people walk too quickly, heads bowed. No one wants to attract attention, even while everyone is preparing for the ceremony.
"How many this time?" he asks, keeping to the shadows, keeping his voice low.
Samantha doesn't flinch when she says, "Fifty. All under the age of twenty. Equally women and men. No children."
At least it isn't children this time, although there will be small ones left behind without a mother or father. Or both. The Gods prefer couples who have proven success at making children. No one says it out loud, but they all know this truth, and they all wonder why.
Answers are never given. And Cameron decided long ago that he would never father a child.
"Who's choosing them?"
Samantha smoothes her hand over her long, fine, hair, an unconscious movement. "The Gods will choose, this time. We are to assemble all who are appropriate in the centre of the village."
"Shit."
She looks away from his language - the priestesses of the Gods do not use such unbecoming words. But she doesn't contradict him. "We have three days. The ceremony of welcome must be completed first." There's a long pause before she asks, "And what of your plans?"
He wonders how much she knows. She feeds him pieces of information, which he in turn shares with members of the rebellion. He doesn't share everything with her, though. Perhaps she is a true ally, perhaps not. "How many of them will be leaving the ship itself?"
"I am uncertain. At least four."
He nods, lets her think that the Gods in the village will be the only target. He wonders if she knows of the Goa'uld Apophis who came here, after the last harvest, speaking to them of freedom, and better, faster ways to find that freedom. The Jaffa - allies of the Goa'uld, and fighers the like Cameron has never seen - have been careful to stay hidden, even Teal'c, who has accompanied Cameron on many, many scouting missions.
Perhaps she knows of Apophis, and the Jaffa, but he doubts that Samantha knows of the plan to destroy the ship, and everything inside it. Still, he's careful not to look away as she watches him intently.
Finally, she wraps her cloak back around herself, and prepares to step into the sunshine. "Good luck," she whispers.
Cameron thinks of the Goa'uld weapons - things of magic and power, things Teal'c has taught him and the others to wield - and he knows he won't need luck.
4 - The one where he doesn't get what he wants
"SG-1, you're clear to go," Walter says over the intercom.
Cameron salutes loosely, and follows his team through the 'gate.
On the other side, he watches as they adjust to the bright sunlight, to the overly humid air. They're getting better, starting to work together in a way he hadn't thought would be possible. They know each other, they trust each other.
They trust him.
They're a good team. "Anything interesting?" he asks, surveying the area.
"It's odd." Dr. Rao says. "So humid, but no dense vegetation."
Yeah, it looks arid, almost barren. "Any ideas why?"
She shakes her head. "I need a little time, Colonel."
He grins at her tone, so precise, so annoyed. "Right. You've got your time."
He watches as she heads off, stride purposeful, already telling Fowler what to do. "Come on," he says to Donalds, "let's check out the perimeter."
They're a good team. Great, even. And if sometimes he wonders what Sam Carter is doing, or how Daniel Jackson likes the Pegasus Galaxy, or what it might have been to know Teal'c, he brushes the thoughts aside. They're not going to get him anywhere.
5 - The one where Cameron should have died right away
The crater is bigger than anything he could have imagined. It would probably take months to walk the edge of it, weeks to walk across it. Not that Cameron will ever walk across it. He has no idea what the area is contaminated with, but almost a year since the attack, there are no signs of vegetation growing, not even the most determined of weeds.
This isn't the only crater in North America, and he's sure the other continents didn't do any better. Still, this is probably the largest.
"The 'gate probably amplified the explosion," Carter had said when they first arrived, took in the devastation. "I'm just surprised it didn't take out half the continent."
Cameron wasn't surprised. "They didn't want to kill us all at once. They want something more, something lasting," he'd replied. "They want to make us suffer."
The craters - the millions dead because of them - had just been the first step. Disasters have come in waves, some clearly artificial, some due to infrastructural collapse.
Food shortages. Contaminated water. Earthquakes. Disease. And after each new crisis, they'd watched new pockets of survivors fall, heads bowed, before the Priors and the Ori.
Travel is almost impossible, and they made slow, aching progress on the way here. And now that they're here, there's nowhere to go. The thought of hitting the road again just makes Cameron want to sit down, lie down, stare at the endless grey sky. Only Teal'c had taken the travel with relative ease, the symbiote protecting him, lending its strength, easing his way. Only Teal'c is prepared for more.
He hears Teal'c behind him, and is, once more, relieved that the tretonin plan had never gotten off the ground. "Losing your touch," he says, but can't quite manage a smile.
"Perhaps," Teal'c responds, pretending that he doesn't let Cameron hear him coming. "They are not improving."
Cameron knows they aren't. He knows that Carter and Jackson are getting worse, that their skin is flaking off in patches, that they can't keep anything, even water, down. He knows because he's almost there, too. "What about you?"
"I appear to be unaffected."
"Good. At least -" one of us is, he doesn't finish.
There's no response, not even an inclination of Teal'c's head.
Cameron's almost out of words too.
End.