Ficcage: "Unauthorized Access", Chapter 3-- Military Intelligence
Okay, for those of you who've been keeping up with my bizarre StarGate/Danny Phantom crossover fic, here's the next bit... **hides beneath desk**
ChapterThree: Military Intelligence
By Ysabet
*Mmmm, I love the smell of napalm in the morning…*
Of course, the troops currently stampeding, firing, yelling, and otherwise adding to the mayhem and destruction weren’t really using napalm, not as such; or so Danny hoped as he watched a large container marked ‘T-RATIONS (PACKAGED), 36 CT’ fly past and smash all over the floor. The Box Ghost was being a bit more playful than usual today.
“IIIIIIII AM THE-“
“Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda yadda, we heard you the first four times, okay?” drawled O’Neill from around a corner as crates and squarish paper products spiraled through the air. “Yoooooouuuu are the Box Ghost, Overlord Of All Things Stackable, the King Of Corrugation, the Paynim Of Packaging, the Shah Of Little Styrofoam Peanuts, the-“ He paused, and Danny bit back a snort of laughter despite himself; you could actually hear the gears turning. “-Hey, and if you’re the ghost in charge of boxes, are you also the guy who’s responsible for when our supply orders go missing?”
“BEWARE! I-- huh? No, wait, I’m not-”
“Get ‘em, guys!” A handful of angry soldiers, the light of vengeance in their eyes, aimed and fired over the heads of their fellows (who had enough sense and/or training to drop flat in the hallway.) And this time Danny got an up-close-and-personal look at just what some of his new playmates’ weirder weaponry could do:
ZAAAAAAAAAAT!!! ZAT ZAT ZAT!!!
“EEEYAGGH!!”
Unfortunately, the stick-weapons weren’t quite enough; the Box Ghost might’ve been fairly low-level but he recovered quickly, as the hapless soldiers found out in the next few seconds. It was really a pity, thought the white-haired halfa, that the ghost had apparently found this place’s main Supply so quick, and that the U.S. Government saw fit to ship so much stuff in bulk on scrapwood pallets…
ZAT!ZAT!ZAT!ZAT!-
“Aack! Shit!”
“Fire in the hole! You goddamned motherless son of a-“
…and that pallet-wood was so flammable. Smoke was beginning to fill the hallway along with the sounds of coughing; there was a hydraulic hiss! as the sprinkler-system came into play, and from beside Danny a vituperative curse sizzled the air. “Nice,” he said appreciatively to the grim face of his current captor. “What’s it mean?” Mister Forehead-Tattoo translated for him in some detail, and the halfla whistled. “Wow; didn’t know you could DO that with a shovel. Do they teach you that in the military?” Dark eyes glared, but Danny had seen worse and he allowed his shrug to indicate as much. “So-are you gonna let me help, or are we going to keep playing ‘Mexican Standoff’ while that idiot toasts your recyclables?”
“We can fight our own battles, spirit!” hissed Mister Forehead-Tattoo. “And I am not Mexican!”
“Fine.” Danny sighed, crossing his arms and leaning comfortably against the wall, which was now streaming with water. “You like all this mess? Just wait’ll you see what this guy can do when he gets hold of some crates of toilet-paper- talk about being in deep sh-“
“Teal’c,” said a quiet voice from ankle-level. “Let him help out, okay?” The ‘other Danny’ guy had prudently found a safe bit of floor behind a thrown crate of office supplies; dusty blond hair spattered with Wite-Out ™ straggled in front of glasses as he peered up through the man-made rain. “The other ghost doesn’t seem to like him very much, and we can use the help. Ease up, okay?” The box-fixated specter had used some fairly strong language upon arriving; he seemed more than usually upset for some reason, and he had directed his tirade at Danny.
“But- “ Mister Forehead-Tattoo-Teal’c-looked like someone had kicked his puppy. “DanielJackson, is this wise? We have no reason to trust him; why should he not ally himself with his fellow spirit as soon as he is freed? The restless dead are not to be trusted-“
“Hello, right here LISTENING, you know.”
“-and according to the tenets quoted by doctors Spengler and Venkmen should be incarcerated at the first opportunity in a-“
“Now wait just one freakin’ minute-“
The other Danny sighed. “Teal’c? Didn’t we have this discussion last month? You know, the one about how fiction is fiction and fact is fact and never the twain shall meet, except in chat-rooms? Let him go, please.“
“……..”
Teal’c (Mister Teal’c? Captain Teal’c? Sergeant Teal’c? What kind of name was ‘Teal-kuh’ anyway? Chinese?) looked mulish-but lowered his stick. “Finally,” said Danny with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Wanna help-‘Teal’c’, right? C’mon, then, and stick close; you might learn a few things.” And he stepped out into the corridor.
The Box Ghost was currently hovering in a corner, glowering at the entire non-ghostish world and making a torrent of-what else?-boxes spin and wheel around him in formation, as if Darth Vader had decided to use cardboard for an invading force instead of Imperial ships. His aura was glowing a vivid, virulent green, and from the expression in his eyes he wasn’t about to go quietly-he had a definite mad-on at work there. Maybe he hadn’t liked the trip to Colorado much? That was understandable… Who in their right mind would enjoy being flushed down some sort of intergalactic sideways toilet? Yeesh.
As he moved out, from behind him Danny could hear voices calling the soldiers back into defensive positions; good, since there wasn’t a lot of space in the corridors. *Standing room only,* he thought inanely as he slowly walked forward. *Okay, Fenton, what are you gonna do, anyway? No thermos… you could blast Box-Boy into a wall or something, but the less collateral damage the better. Um, what else can you use to contain him in? Or with? I need some sort of energy field stronger than his personal aura, something he can’t break through-*
He blinked.
*Oh… Well, it COULD work.* “Hey,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth towards Tall-Dark-And-Tattooed, “that stick-thing you’ve got there. Energy weapon, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Let’s catch this guy before he does any more damage.” The Box Ghost was watching them narrowly, his piggy little eyes sharp as needles. “He’s not much on the brains and he’s not big on the power, but he can make your life hell if he’s allowed to roam free.” Danny edged a little closer, moving quietly. All around them water from the sprinkler-system continued to rain down. “Look, quick lesson on ghosts… Ghosts are self-contained, self-aware energy-fields, sort of,” he said, drawing heavily on his parents’ lessons. “It’s the ‘self-contained’ thing that’s the kicker. Zapping him, that’s only good for a second, but if you surround him with energy all the way around it’ll disrupt his field. Ghosts tend to bounce back real quick, but if you can do that even for a minute, he’ll be out like a light-“
“For how long, spirit?”
“Long enough for us to think of some way to rig a holding-cell. Or have you got a better idea?” At the other’s annoyed grunt, Danny went on in a low voice. “While the sprinklers are still running, if we can keep him solid you can zap him; then when he drops onto the wet floor, zap him again. And again-you can’t kill him. The water ought to conduct pretty well… ‘Course, you’ll want to keep yourself out of the wet too or you’ll fry right alongside him. Sound okay?”
“Mmrm. And what will you be doing while I am ‘zapping’?”
“Providing a distraction. And keeping him solid; all the zapping in the world won’t help if he’s not solid. Oh, and…” he gave the large man a wary look. “Be sure you zap the right ghost, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he drifted up into a slow hover as the soldiers down the hall murmured. “Hey, Crate Creep!” he called out. “I heard a rumor you were dropping the stupid boxes gig and branching out into zip-loc baggies. ‘Zat true?”
“YOU LIE! I WOULD NEVER ABANDON MY CORRUGATED KINGDOM! I WILL NOT BETRAY MY BELOVED CORNERS FOR PLASTIC FORMLESSNESS!! AND I AM NOT THE CRATE CREEP, I-“
--and about then Danny slammed into him. That took them both careening into the nearest patch of ceiling, and the halfa hung on grimly, his own solidity forcing the Box Ghost into form. “Oh-no-you-don’t-“ he gritted, hammerlocking the beefy, overalled specter, who snarled something rude about duct-tape and sent them sideways through the air into a wall. “Ooof!” And away they went.
Ping-pong ball time; he knew the drill-you hung onto your opponent while they slammed you back and forth through the air in a clumsy aerial version of a drop-down-drag-out ballet, danced indiscriminately along ceilings and walls. And when it was your turn, you slung your partner against the nearest flat surface and attempted to beat them into unconsciousness while they resisted vehemently; it was all part of the choreography.
Sometimes Danny almost envied how the full ghosts were completely dead; they didn’t have to deal with healing bruises everywhere for a week after one of these.
Back and forth they went, floor-wall-ceiling-wall-ceiling-floor and back again like demented pinballs; every time they hit the roof, the lights flickered; every time they hit the floor, they splashed. The sprinklers rained continually down, and behind it all came the crackle of the zat-things/sticks/whatevers as they fired-near-misses so far, but getting closer. Shoutings, screams, a flurry of yells-- Who or what was ‘nekkid duh’ and why were people yelling for them/it?
Bounce, WHAP!! Thud, thwap, WHAM!!! Owww-- and the Box Ghost had been brushing up on his swearing lately, that was for damn sure-
“Spirit! Release him and move away!!” Danny let go and went intangible; his opponent dropped, flailing.
ZAAAAAAAATZATZATZATZATZAAAAAT!!!!!
*Ohh… wow…. That has GOTTA hurt…..*
The overalled ghost lay in a smoking, steaming heap on the floor, smack in the middle of the corridor’s deepest puddle. He groaned, his normal glow flickering fitfully when he tried to sit up, green fire beginning to form around his hands as he raised his head. “NNGH-I, I WILL WRAP YOU IN B-BIODEGRADABLE CARDBOARD AND FOLD, SPINDLE AND MUTILATE YOU FOR THIS-“
“Fire again!” shouted Teal’c from his rather improbably perch hanging by one hand from a doorjamb, feet tucked up.
ZAAAAAAAT!!!!! ZAAAT ZAT ZAT ZAT-ZAT-ZATZATZATZATZAT!!!!!
“AAARGH!!!” Splash!
And that… was that.
“Powdered naquadah?” asked the man named O’Neil carefully, scratching at a sandy hairline. “In a spray-bottle?”
“Mixed with water, yes… and a little liquid soap to make it stick,” said Major Carter firmly. “It should disrupt his ‘field’, as you call it-“ (she shot Danny a mistrustful look) “-and keep him from changing his state to immateriality, whatever he is.”
Leaning back casually against thin air and floating with crossed arms, Danny smirked and rubbed a bruised elbow. “Yeah? For how long? And what’s ‘nekkid-nakkid-nakkad-”
“Until it’s removed. And that information’s classified.”
They had adjourned to the same side-room as before after a groggy, very solid Box Ghost had been carted away by security to a cell somewhere and sprayed down with some sort of mucky metallic-dust-and-water gunk. *Bet THAT went over great with Boxie. And… I wonder how long it’ll take ‘em to decide to powder ME with this knock-waddah stuff?*
*…I don’t think I want to hang around and find out. But if I leave, they’ll be after MY ass with squirt-guns. Do I want that? Nah, don’t think so.*
With two fingers Danny traced a scrap of his black hazmat suit that had gotten torn during the fight, smoothing it back into place; the edges glimmered and it melded seamlessly with the rest. That always happened; it was one of the perks of being a halfa-things healed quickly, even clothing. It all had to do with that ‘field’ thing again (and man, was he ever glad that he’d heard his parent’s lectures so many times, considering how good he was at tuning them out) and so long as his kept working properly, then he’d be alr-
“I wonder what would happen if we dusted you with naquadah?” mused the white-coated Doctor Frasier thoughtfully, tapping her stethoscope against her palm.
Uh-oh.
Danny glared. “Hey! Did I or did I not just help save you from King Cardboard out there? What, is my
breath that bad?” He crossed one ankle over another, starting to get angry. “I could’ve just headed off through a wall, or a ceiling or a floor… I could’ve left you guys to deal with the Box Ghost on your own, and you don’t want to know what he’s capable of if he gets into Main Supply. Ever had to fight off animated rolls of toilet-paper? Or maybe box-knives and bubble-wrap? Or a hoard of flying tape-dispensers? Those things have TEETH-“
The other Daniel-Jackson, right-frowned. “What’s the chance of any more ghosts coming through the Gate? I know we’ve closed the iris, but it was closed before and opened on its own… twice, actually…”
The halfa shrugged, arms still crossed. “Do I look like a scientist? Dunno.”
“What you look like is ‘pissed off’,” remarked O’Neil’s laconic voice from the doorway where he lounged. “And before you think about heading anywhere, maybe you ought to consider that since you got here through the Gate, you’ll want to leave through it if you’re to get back to wherever the hell you came from. Savvy? So drop the attitude. And Janet?” He turned towards the lab-coated doctor. “No more ‘naquadah dust’ remarks, okay? Play nice, or I’ll tell Hammond where you keep your secret stash of Double-Fudge Choco Wallahs.”
Both Janet and Danny glowered at him, simultaneously opening their mouths to reply-
“BWEEP! BWEEP! Unauthorized activation,” announced a voice calmly over the intercom. “Gate iris accessed. BWEEP! BWEEP! Gate iris expanding-“
Absolutely everybody in the room (except for Danny) attempted to exit it at the same time; after the rush had cleared, the halfa looked after them. “I guess it was my breath after all...”
A blond head poked around the doorway. “Are you coming?” asked the other Danny patiently, shoving his glasses back up his nose.
“Uh-“
A hand latched onto his collar. “Great. And on the way you can explain to me just exactly how it is you’re a ghost, where you came from,” said Daniel Jackson in a determined voice, “and how we can get you back there in one piece. AND get the Gate back to normal-“
“Do I have a choice?”
Bright blue eyes blinked once behind lenses. “Four words: Naquadah dust, spray bottle.”
“…..You know, I’m really starting to dislike you guys…”
“Yeah, we get that a lot. C’mon, let’s get moving.”
To be continued…
ChapterThree: Military Intelligence
By Ysabet
*Mmmm, I love the smell of napalm in the morning…*
Of course, the troops currently stampeding, firing, yelling, and otherwise adding to the mayhem and destruction weren’t really using napalm, not as such; or so Danny hoped as he watched a large container marked ‘T-RATIONS (PACKAGED), 36 CT’ fly past and smash all over the floor. The Box Ghost was being a bit more playful than usual today.
“IIIIIIII AM THE-“
“Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda yadda, we heard you the first four times, okay?” drawled O’Neill from around a corner as crates and squarish paper products spiraled through the air. “Yoooooouuuu are the Box Ghost, Overlord Of All Things Stackable, the King Of Corrugation, the Paynim Of Packaging, the Shah Of Little Styrofoam Peanuts, the-“ He paused, and Danny bit back a snort of laughter despite himself; you could actually hear the gears turning. “-Hey, and if you’re the ghost in charge of boxes, are you also the guy who’s responsible for when our supply orders go missing?”
“BEWARE! I-- huh? No, wait, I’m not-”
“Get ‘em, guys!” A handful of angry soldiers, the light of vengeance in their eyes, aimed and fired over the heads of their fellows (who had enough sense and/or training to drop flat in the hallway.) And this time Danny got an up-close-and-personal look at just what some of his new playmates’ weirder weaponry could do:
ZAAAAAAAAAAT!!! ZAT ZAT ZAT!!!
“EEEYAGGH!!”
Unfortunately, the stick-weapons weren’t quite enough; the Box Ghost might’ve been fairly low-level but he recovered quickly, as the hapless soldiers found out in the next few seconds. It was really a pity, thought the white-haired halfa, that the ghost had apparently found this place’s main Supply so quick, and that the U.S. Government saw fit to ship so much stuff in bulk on scrapwood pallets…
ZAT!ZAT!ZAT!ZAT!-
“Aack! Shit!”
“Fire in the hole! You goddamned motherless son of a-“
…and that pallet-wood was so flammable. Smoke was beginning to fill the hallway along with the sounds of coughing; there was a hydraulic hiss! as the sprinkler-system came into play, and from beside Danny a vituperative curse sizzled the air. “Nice,” he said appreciatively to the grim face of his current captor. “What’s it mean?” Mister Forehead-Tattoo translated for him in some detail, and the halfla whistled. “Wow; didn’t know you could DO that with a shovel. Do they teach you that in the military?” Dark eyes glared, but Danny had seen worse and he allowed his shrug to indicate as much. “So-are you gonna let me help, or are we going to keep playing ‘Mexican Standoff’ while that idiot toasts your recyclables?”
“We can fight our own battles, spirit!” hissed Mister Forehead-Tattoo. “And I am not Mexican!”
“Fine.” Danny sighed, crossing his arms and leaning comfortably against the wall, which was now streaming with water. “You like all this mess? Just wait’ll you see what this guy can do when he gets hold of some crates of toilet-paper- talk about being in deep sh-“
“Teal’c,” said a quiet voice from ankle-level. “Let him help out, okay?” The ‘other Danny’ guy had prudently found a safe bit of floor behind a thrown crate of office supplies; dusty blond hair spattered with Wite-Out ™ straggled in front of glasses as he peered up through the man-made rain. “The other ghost doesn’t seem to like him very much, and we can use the help. Ease up, okay?” The box-fixated specter had used some fairly strong language upon arriving; he seemed more than usually upset for some reason, and he had directed his tirade at Danny.
“But- “ Mister Forehead-Tattoo-Teal’c-looked like someone had kicked his puppy. “DanielJackson, is this wise? We have no reason to trust him; why should he not ally himself with his fellow spirit as soon as he is freed? The restless dead are not to be trusted-“
“Hello, right here LISTENING, you know.”
“-and according to the tenets quoted by doctors Spengler and Venkmen should be incarcerated at the first opportunity in a-“
“Now wait just one freakin’ minute-“
The other Danny sighed. “Teal’c? Didn’t we have this discussion last month? You know, the one about how fiction is fiction and fact is fact and never the twain shall meet, except in chat-rooms? Let him go, please.“
“……..”
Teal’c (Mister Teal’c? Captain Teal’c? Sergeant Teal’c? What kind of name was ‘Teal-kuh’ anyway? Chinese?) looked mulish-but lowered his stick. “Finally,” said Danny with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Wanna help-‘Teal’c’, right? C’mon, then, and stick close; you might learn a few things.” And he stepped out into the corridor.
The Box Ghost was currently hovering in a corner, glowering at the entire non-ghostish world and making a torrent of-what else?-boxes spin and wheel around him in formation, as if Darth Vader had decided to use cardboard for an invading force instead of Imperial ships. His aura was glowing a vivid, virulent green, and from the expression in his eyes he wasn’t about to go quietly-he had a definite mad-on at work there. Maybe he hadn’t liked the trip to Colorado much? That was understandable… Who in their right mind would enjoy being flushed down some sort of intergalactic sideways toilet? Yeesh.
As he moved out, from behind him Danny could hear voices calling the soldiers back into defensive positions; good, since there wasn’t a lot of space in the corridors. *Standing room only,* he thought inanely as he slowly walked forward. *Okay, Fenton, what are you gonna do, anyway? No thermos… you could blast Box-Boy into a wall or something, but the less collateral damage the better. Um, what else can you use to contain him in? Or with? I need some sort of energy field stronger than his personal aura, something he can’t break through-*
He blinked.
*Oh… Well, it COULD work.* “Hey,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth towards Tall-Dark-And-Tattooed, “that stick-thing you’ve got there. Energy weapon, you said?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Let’s catch this guy before he does any more damage.” The Box Ghost was watching them narrowly, his piggy little eyes sharp as needles. “He’s not much on the brains and he’s not big on the power, but he can make your life hell if he’s allowed to roam free.” Danny edged a little closer, moving quietly. All around them water from the sprinkler-system continued to rain down. “Look, quick lesson on ghosts… Ghosts are self-contained, self-aware energy-fields, sort of,” he said, drawing heavily on his parents’ lessons. “It’s the ‘self-contained’ thing that’s the kicker. Zapping him, that’s only good for a second, but if you surround him with energy all the way around it’ll disrupt his field. Ghosts tend to bounce back real quick, but if you can do that even for a minute, he’ll be out like a light-“
“For how long, spirit?”
“Long enough for us to think of some way to rig a holding-cell. Or have you got a better idea?” At the other’s annoyed grunt, Danny went on in a low voice. “While the sprinklers are still running, if we can keep him solid you can zap him; then when he drops onto the wet floor, zap him again. And again-you can’t kill him. The water ought to conduct pretty well… ‘Course, you’ll want to keep yourself out of the wet too or you’ll fry right alongside him. Sound okay?”
“Mmrm. And what will you be doing while I am ‘zapping’?”
“Providing a distraction. And keeping him solid; all the zapping in the world won’t help if he’s not solid. Oh, and…” he gave the large man a wary look. “Be sure you zap the right ghost, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he drifted up into a slow hover as the soldiers down the hall murmured. “Hey, Crate Creep!” he called out. “I heard a rumor you were dropping the stupid boxes gig and branching out into zip-loc baggies. ‘Zat true?”
“YOU LIE! I WOULD NEVER ABANDON MY CORRUGATED KINGDOM! I WILL NOT BETRAY MY BELOVED CORNERS FOR PLASTIC FORMLESSNESS!! AND I AM NOT THE CRATE CREEP, I-“
--and about then Danny slammed into him. That took them both careening into the nearest patch of ceiling, and the halfa hung on grimly, his own solidity forcing the Box Ghost into form. “Oh-no-you-don’t-“ he gritted, hammerlocking the beefy, overalled specter, who snarled something rude about duct-tape and sent them sideways through the air into a wall. “Ooof!” And away they went.
Ping-pong ball time; he knew the drill-you hung onto your opponent while they slammed you back and forth through the air in a clumsy aerial version of a drop-down-drag-out ballet, danced indiscriminately along ceilings and walls. And when it was your turn, you slung your partner against the nearest flat surface and attempted to beat them into unconsciousness while they resisted vehemently; it was all part of the choreography.
Sometimes Danny almost envied how the full ghosts were completely dead; they didn’t have to deal with healing bruises everywhere for a week after one of these.
Back and forth they went, floor-wall-ceiling-wall-ceiling-floor and back again like demented pinballs; every time they hit the roof, the lights flickered; every time they hit the floor, they splashed. The sprinklers rained continually down, and behind it all came the crackle of the zat-things/sticks/whatevers as they fired-near-misses so far, but getting closer. Shoutings, screams, a flurry of yells-- Who or what was ‘nekkid duh’ and why were people yelling for them/it?
Bounce, WHAP!! Thud, thwap, WHAM!!! Owww-- and the Box Ghost had been brushing up on his swearing lately, that was for damn sure-
“Spirit! Release him and move away!!” Danny let go and went intangible; his opponent dropped, flailing.
ZAAAAAAAATZATZATZATZATZAAAAAT!!!!!
*Ohh… wow…. That has GOTTA hurt…..*
The overalled ghost lay in a smoking, steaming heap on the floor, smack in the middle of the corridor’s deepest puddle. He groaned, his normal glow flickering fitfully when he tried to sit up, green fire beginning to form around his hands as he raised his head. “NNGH-I, I WILL WRAP YOU IN B-BIODEGRADABLE CARDBOARD AND FOLD, SPINDLE AND MUTILATE YOU FOR THIS-“
“Fire again!” shouted Teal’c from his rather improbably perch hanging by one hand from a doorjamb, feet tucked up.
ZAAAAAAAT!!!!! ZAAAT ZAT ZAT ZAT-ZAT-ZATZATZATZATZAT!!!!!
“AAARGH!!!” Splash!
And that… was that.
“Powdered naquadah?” asked the man named O’Neil carefully, scratching at a sandy hairline. “In a spray-bottle?”
“Mixed with water, yes… and a little liquid soap to make it stick,” said Major Carter firmly. “It should disrupt his ‘field’, as you call it-“ (she shot Danny a mistrustful look) “-and keep him from changing his state to immateriality, whatever he is.”
Leaning back casually against thin air and floating with crossed arms, Danny smirked and rubbed a bruised elbow. “Yeah? For how long? And what’s ‘nekkid-nakkid-nakkad-”
“Until it’s removed. And that information’s classified.”
They had adjourned to the same side-room as before after a groggy, very solid Box Ghost had been carted away by security to a cell somewhere and sprayed down with some sort of mucky metallic-dust-and-water gunk. *Bet THAT went over great with Boxie. And… I wonder how long it’ll take ‘em to decide to powder ME with this knock-waddah stuff?*
*…I don’t think I want to hang around and find out. But if I leave, they’ll be after MY ass with squirt-guns. Do I want that? Nah, don’t think so.*
With two fingers Danny traced a scrap of his black hazmat suit that had gotten torn during the fight, smoothing it back into place; the edges glimmered and it melded seamlessly with the rest. That always happened; it was one of the perks of being a halfa-things healed quickly, even clothing. It all had to do with that ‘field’ thing again (and man, was he ever glad that he’d heard his parent’s lectures so many times, considering how good he was at tuning them out) and so long as his kept working properly, then he’d be alr-
“I wonder what would happen if we dusted you with naquadah?” mused the white-coated Doctor Frasier thoughtfully, tapping her stethoscope against her palm.
Uh-oh.
Danny glared. “Hey! Did I or did I not just help save you from King Cardboard out there? What, is my
breath that bad?” He crossed one ankle over another, starting to get angry. “I could’ve just headed off through a wall, or a ceiling or a floor… I could’ve left you guys to deal with the Box Ghost on your own, and you don’t want to know what he’s capable of if he gets into Main Supply. Ever had to fight off animated rolls of toilet-paper? Or maybe box-knives and bubble-wrap? Or a hoard of flying tape-dispensers? Those things have TEETH-“
The other Daniel-Jackson, right-frowned. “What’s the chance of any more ghosts coming through the Gate? I know we’ve closed the iris, but it was closed before and opened on its own… twice, actually…”
The halfa shrugged, arms still crossed. “Do I look like a scientist? Dunno.”
“What you look like is ‘pissed off’,” remarked O’Neil’s laconic voice from the doorway where he lounged. “And before you think about heading anywhere, maybe you ought to consider that since you got here through the Gate, you’ll want to leave through it if you’re to get back to wherever the hell you came from. Savvy? So drop the attitude. And Janet?” He turned towards the lab-coated doctor. “No more ‘naquadah dust’ remarks, okay? Play nice, or I’ll tell Hammond where you keep your secret stash of Double-Fudge Choco Wallahs.”
Both Janet and Danny glowered at him, simultaneously opening their mouths to reply-
“BWEEP! BWEEP! Unauthorized activation,” announced a voice calmly over the intercom. “Gate iris accessed. BWEEP! BWEEP! Gate iris expanding-“
Absolutely everybody in the room (except for Danny) attempted to exit it at the same time; after the rush had cleared, the halfa looked after them. “I guess it was my breath after all...”
A blond head poked around the doorway. “Are you coming?” asked the other Danny patiently, shoving his glasses back up his nose.
“Uh-“
A hand latched onto his collar. “Great. And on the way you can explain to me just exactly how it is you’re a ghost, where you came from,” said Daniel Jackson in a determined voice, “and how we can get you back there in one piece. AND get the Gate back to normal-“
“Do I have a choice?”
Bright blue eyes blinked once behind lenses. “Four words: Naquadah dust, spray bottle.”
“…..You know, I’m really starting to dislike you guys…”
“Yeah, we get that a lot. C’mon, let’s get moving.”
To be continued…