"Five Ways Sam Works Her Way Out of Trouble," SG-1
The last "official" entry in My Five Things Meme! elfcat255 asked for "Five Ways Sam Works Her Way Out of Trouble." 2,138 words. I say "official" because I got roped into doing three others. *facepalm* But NO MORE! Hear me, people?! *waves finger*
1. Motorcycle Riding
Sam pulled her bike to the edge of the road and put her foot out to balance it. Crap. This was just perfect. She pushed up the visor of her helmet and tightened her fists around the rubber grips. "Come on," she muttered. "I don't have all day..." She tapped her foot impatiently on the gravel side of the road and peered over her shoulder. Barney Fife was still behind the wheel. "Some of us have a world to save..."
The cop finally opened his door and slipped out. He sauntered up to her and said, "Good afternoon."
"If you say so," Sam said.
He smirked and said, "I clocked you going fifty-eight in a fifty-five zone."
'Really,' Sam almost said aloud. 'Because I thought I was stopped for Driving a Motorcycle While Female.' But she bit it back. "I didn't see the speed limit posting."
"It was about a quarter of a mile back," he pointed out.
"Quarter of a mile?" Sam said. She looked over her shoulder.
"Yep. One-fourth of a mile."
Sam snapped her head back toward him. 'Oh, you did not just dumb down the phrase quarter of a mile...' "Yes. I got that. What I don't get is how there could have been a speed-limit posting there."
"Well, I can understand that," he said. "What with trying to keep this bad boy on the road." He examined the bike and said, "Speaking of which... maybe you oughta let your husband ride this puppy. Stick to the minivan. It's, uh... a little safer."
'I have calluses on my fingers from shooting a goddamn P-90 at someone who wanted to put a snake in my head.' She forced a smile. "I can handle it. Thanks. But a quarter of a mile back - that's 1,320 feet, by the way, this road is an intersection."
The cop adjusted his glasses and looked back the way they'd come.
"So, if there's any speed limit posted there, I'll bet you have no problem filling your ticket quota. As far as I know, this is a sixty mile per hour zone until I get to the tall pine trees about half a mile north. Now, since you've already acknowledged I was going fifty-five, I guess there's no basis for that ticket. Is there?" She smiled sweetly. "Is there anything else?"
He snapped the ticket book closed and glared at her. "Be careful on that bike, ma'am," he said through gritted teeth.
"Thank you, officer."
As he got back into his car, Sam took off.
In a few seconds, she was going fifty-nine... just below the posted speed limit.
2. Lock-Picking
Sam stood in the backyard, working quickly to undo the lock. Stupid deadbolts, always getting in... there. She felt the catch give and turned the knob. She took a quick look around to make sure none of the neighbors were watching and slipped into the dark house.
--
Janet shut the back door and yelled after Cassie. "Go to bed! No Letterman, no listening to music, it's bedtime. You have school in the morning."
"Fi-ine," Cassandra said. She added in a mumble, "Just cause you and Sam're fighting, gotta take it out on me..."
"Bed!" Janet snapped.
Cassandra trudged up the front steps and went into the house. Despite her mood, she flicked on the porch light so Janet could see her way to the house in the darkness. Janet sighed and pulled her purse and coat from the backseat. From the house, she heard Cassandra squeal.
Her pulse immediately quickened and her spine became steel. "Cass?!"
Cassandra appeared in the doorway. "Nothing, Mom. Night!" She turned and disappeared again into the darkness.
Janet frowned and shut the car door. Teenagers. She draped the coat over her shoulder and rubbed the back of her neck. Sam gave the best massages; maybe she should give in. Call, apologize, get her over for a night of true apologizing and... No. Maybe tomorrow. She wasn't ready to stop being mad yet.
She closed the front door and dumped her briefcase on the entryway floor. She hung her jacket on a peg and headed for the living room. She was reaching for the light when a heart-shaped lamp went on across the room. She froze and watched the light go from bright red to white. She heard the unmistakable click of a cigarette lighter and watched as three red candles sprung to life.
She finally picked up the scent that had filled the room; roses. "Turn on the light," Sam said.
Janet did, dropping her keys when she saw the flowers. They were on the coffee table, running across the TV, standing in the windowsill. There was a teddy bear that was almost the same size she was propped up in her chair and staring at her through big Elton John sunglasses.
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'm so sorry."
Janet sniffled, her eyes already wet and her bottom lip trembling.
"I hope I didn't go overboard," Sam said. "But... I... couldn't think of any other way to say it."
Janet said, "It's not enough."
Sam's face fell. "Oh," she sighed. She looked at the display and said, "I'll... clean this up if..."
"No," Janet said. "Leave it. It'll do... but... I'll forgive you if... you give me a neck rub." She stepped forward. "One that starts here," she said, touching the base of her neck, "and ends here..." she touched the outside of her thigh." She was standing within arm's reach of Sam and looked up into her wet eyes. "Could you possibly do that for me?"
"Every night," Sam said as she pulled Janet into a kiss.
3. Wormhole Physics
Samantha Carter literally wrote the book on wormhole physics.
So many people say that, about so many things, but it was literally true for her. She had sat down - with the benefit of a superhuman armband - and written a thick, all-encompassing textbook on wormhole physics. She covered their characteristics, their energy, the elements necessary to create a stable connection and form a perfect event horizon.
She had explained why matter could only travel one way and how energy could travel both, postulated why that was so and put forth theories as to how a wormhole might be created without the use of a highly complicated dialing device - the specifications of which she also filled a chapter with.
The book was completely in-depth, ninety-eight percent accurate (what with a typical human error factor) and completely and utterly unpublishable until the Stargate was made public. Without being able to point at the Stargate as her research tool, every last word in the book was hogwash. Easily debunked, a ready-made joke. From cover to cover, the book would be seen as a fiction.
Still... she found it incredibly useful.
She lifted the book and peered at the back cover. The spider had curled at the last moment and made a green-brown smudge over the last paragraph. She wrinkled her nose and used a napkin to brush the corpse into the trash can.
Sometimes a 1,500-page paperweight was a nice thing to have around. She put it aside and leaned back, crossing her feet and going back to reading her novel.
4. ...Not Necessarily in That Order
The prison was made of clay, several wet clumps dripping from the ceiling and onto her shoulders. She'd gathered as much as she could and rolled it into a cylinder. She closed her hands around it and prayed the heat from her skin was enough to make it harden. Several hours passed before it didn't crumble at her touch and she slipped the tip into the lock of her handcuffs. She worked only when the guards weren't looking, trying to figure out the blasted alien mechanism.
When the lock came open, she slipped her hands from the cuffs and moved to the cell doors. She waited patiently until a shift changed and used her rudimentary pick on the door lock. Her team had already made it through the Gate, probably already forming a rescue party. Might as well save them the trouble.
The door lock popped open and she stepped into the corridor just as the new guard came around the corner. "Hey!" he said. She lobbed her cuffs at his head and smiled as blood poured down the bridge of his nose.
She ran before his friends could show up and slipped through an unlocked door at the end of a long hallway. The courtyard was deserted on this end and she made a break for it. The Stargate was about seventy yards away on the other side of the wall. The guards zipped around the grounds on little motorized scooters and Sam appropriated one that the bleeding guard had just left behind.
The back tire kicked up dirt and she sped away from the prison. Shouts went up as people recognized her as the prisoner and more engines revved in response. She bent down to keep the wind from holding her up and felt a small burst of added speed. She rode to the DHD and pulled the handlebars back to begin spinning. She fishtailed wildly, leapt from the machine and quickly input the SGC address.
When she hit the red dome and the Stargate activated, she leapt back onto the bike and took off again. The guards had arrived and were trying their best to circle her. Fortunately, she had spent a few more years on a bike compared to these halfwits. She rode right between two of them, raising into a wheelie as she brought the bike around for another go.
A couple of guards realized her escape route and decided to cut her off at the pass. They sped through the event horizon... and promptly splattered against the Earth-side iris. Sam regretted their deaths, but refused to mourn people who had five minutes ago been building a gallows for her.
She pushed up her sleeve and held her fingers over her GDO. 0.3 seconds through to Earth, another 4.5 seconds for Walter to open the iris, 0.4 seconds for him to comply. 5.2 seconds. She keyed in her IDC and came around wide. Five... four... three... two..."
She sped forward and popped another wheelie as she rode through the Stargate.
The wheels of the bike rattled against the ramp as she came through. "Close the iris!" she yelled. Walter immediately complied - about 0.3 seconds, she guesstimated, he was getting faster... - and she fishtailed the bike to a stop at the base of the ramp.
Hammond and Colonel O'Neill rushed into the room. "Major!" Hammond said. "Are you... was it... how did you...?"
"Sorry, General," Sam said. She climbed off the bike and brushed the hardening clay from her jacket. "I'll ask Siler to clean up the skid marks."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Jack smirked. He gestured at the Stargate and said, "Quite an entrance."
"Thank you, sir," Sam said.
"We had a big rescue planned, you know."
"I know, sir," she smiled.
"Still," Jack smiled. "It would've sucked to miss that entrance."
"Yes, sir," Sam said.
Hammond watched as O'Neill walked out and said to Sam, "You know he's just going to try and top it."
Sam rolled her eyes and nodded. "Too well, sir."
5. The Right Time
"Janet," Sam whispered. She kissed the curve of Janet's breast and smoothed away the smear of lipstick she left there. "Janet."
Janet murmured. "No."
"I don't want more," Sam smiled. She licked a path from Janet's arm to her collarbone. "I just want to talk a little."
"We can talk in the morning," Janet griped. She brushed her face and rolled onto her side to face away from Sam. "Spoon me."
Sam did as instructed and flattened her palms against Janet's belly. "It's really important."
"Sleep is important."
"I know," Sam said. She kissed Janet's neck and heard her whimper. "And you certainly wore yourself out tonight." Janet giggled shyly and covered Sam's hands with her own. "I wanted to tell you that I forgot to take the dry cleaning downtown."
"Sam," Janet said. She rolled her head on the pillow and said, "I am down to one uniform. You have to take them tomorrow!"
"I will," Sam promised. She kissed Janet's lips and said, "Go to sleep."
Janet closed her eyes and let her head sink to the pillow. "You waited until I was all sated and sleepy to tell me that, didn't you? So..." she yawned, "...so I wouldn't yell at you."
"You figured me out," Sam said. "Are you mad?"
Janet sighed. "Spoon me tighter."
Sam pressed tighter and Janet patted her hand. "I am going to tear you a new one at breakfast."
"Okay," Sam smiled. She kissed Janet's shoulder and pulled her closer.
1. Motorcycle Riding
Sam pulled her bike to the edge of the road and put her foot out to balance it. Crap. This was just perfect. She pushed up the visor of her helmet and tightened her fists around the rubber grips. "Come on," she muttered. "I don't have all day..." She tapped her foot impatiently on the gravel side of the road and peered over her shoulder. Barney Fife was still behind the wheel. "Some of us have a world to save..."
The cop finally opened his door and slipped out. He sauntered up to her and said, "Good afternoon."
"If you say so," Sam said.
He smirked and said, "I clocked you going fifty-eight in a fifty-five zone."
'Really,' Sam almost said aloud. 'Because I thought I was stopped for Driving a Motorcycle While Female.' But she bit it back. "I didn't see the speed limit posting."
"It was about a quarter of a mile back," he pointed out.
"Quarter of a mile?" Sam said. She looked over her shoulder.
"Yep. One-fourth of a mile."
Sam snapped her head back toward him. 'Oh, you did not just dumb down the phrase quarter of a mile...' "Yes. I got that. What I don't get is how there could have been a speed-limit posting there."
"Well, I can understand that," he said. "What with trying to keep this bad boy on the road." He examined the bike and said, "Speaking of which... maybe you oughta let your husband ride this puppy. Stick to the minivan. It's, uh... a little safer."
'I have calluses on my fingers from shooting a goddamn P-90 at someone who wanted to put a snake in my head.' She forced a smile. "I can handle it. Thanks. But a quarter of a mile back - that's 1,320 feet, by the way, this road is an intersection."
The cop adjusted his glasses and looked back the way they'd come.
"So, if there's any speed limit posted there, I'll bet you have no problem filling your ticket quota. As far as I know, this is a sixty mile per hour zone until I get to the tall pine trees about half a mile north. Now, since you've already acknowledged I was going fifty-five, I guess there's no basis for that ticket. Is there?" She smiled sweetly. "Is there anything else?"
He snapped the ticket book closed and glared at her. "Be careful on that bike, ma'am," he said through gritted teeth.
"Thank you, officer."
As he got back into his car, Sam took off.
In a few seconds, she was going fifty-nine... just below the posted speed limit.
2. Lock-Picking
Sam stood in the backyard, working quickly to undo the lock. Stupid deadbolts, always getting in... there. She felt the catch give and turned the knob. She took a quick look around to make sure none of the neighbors were watching and slipped into the dark house.
--
Janet shut the back door and yelled after Cassie. "Go to bed! No Letterman, no listening to music, it's bedtime. You have school in the morning."
"Fi-ine," Cassandra said. She added in a mumble, "Just cause you and Sam're fighting, gotta take it out on me..."
"Bed!" Janet snapped.
Cassandra trudged up the front steps and went into the house. Despite her mood, she flicked on the porch light so Janet could see her way to the house in the darkness. Janet sighed and pulled her purse and coat from the backseat. From the house, she heard Cassandra squeal.
Her pulse immediately quickened and her spine became steel. "Cass?!"
Cassandra appeared in the doorway. "Nothing, Mom. Night!" She turned and disappeared again into the darkness.
Janet frowned and shut the car door. Teenagers. She draped the coat over her shoulder and rubbed the back of her neck. Sam gave the best massages; maybe she should give in. Call, apologize, get her over for a night of true apologizing and... No. Maybe tomorrow. She wasn't ready to stop being mad yet.
She closed the front door and dumped her briefcase on the entryway floor. She hung her jacket on a peg and headed for the living room. She was reaching for the light when a heart-shaped lamp went on across the room. She froze and watched the light go from bright red to white. She heard the unmistakable click of a cigarette lighter and watched as three red candles sprung to life.
She finally picked up the scent that had filled the room; roses. "Turn on the light," Sam said.
Janet did, dropping her keys when she saw the flowers. They were on the coffee table, running across the TV, standing in the windowsill. There was a teddy bear that was almost the same size she was propped up in her chair and staring at her through big Elton John sunglasses.
"I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'm so sorry."
Janet sniffled, her eyes already wet and her bottom lip trembling.
"I hope I didn't go overboard," Sam said. "But... I... couldn't think of any other way to say it."
Janet said, "It's not enough."
Sam's face fell. "Oh," she sighed. She looked at the display and said, "I'll... clean this up if..."
"No," Janet said. "Leave it. It'll do... but... I'll forgive you if... you give me a neck rub." She stepped forward. "One that starts here," she said, touching the base of her neck, "and ends here..." she touched the outside of her thigh." She was standing within arm's reach of Sam and looked up into her wet eyes. "Could you possibly do that for me?"
"Every night," Sam said as she pulled Janet into a kiss.
3. Wormhole Physics
Samantha Carter literally wrote the book on wormhole physics.
So many people say that, about so many things, but it was literally true for her. She had sat down - with the benefit of a superhuman armband - and written a thick, all-encompassing textbook on wormhole physics. She covered their characteristics, their energy, the elements necessary to create a stable connection and form a perfect event horizon.
She had explained why matter could only travel one way and how energy could travel both, postulated why that was so and put forth theories as to how a wormhole might be created without the use of a highly complicated dialing device - the specifications of which she also filled a chapter with.
The book was completely in-depth, ninety-eight percent accurate (what with a typical human error factor) and completely and utterly unpublishable until the Stargate was made public. Without being able to point at the Stargate as her research tool, every last word in the book was hogwash. Easily debunked, a ready-made joke. From cover to cover, the book would be seen as a fiction.
Still... she found it incredibly useful.
She lifted the book and peered at the back cover. The spider had curled at the last moment and made a green-brown smudge over the last paragraph. She wrinkled her nose and used a napkin to brush the corpse into the trash can.
Sometimes a 1,500-page paperweight was a nice thing to have around. She put it aside and leaned back, crossing her feet and going back to reading her novel.
4. ...Not Necessarily in That Order
The prison was made of clay, several wet clumps dripping from the ceiling and onto her shoulders. She'd gathered as much as she could and rolled it into a cylinder. She closed her hands around it and prayed the heat from her skin was enough to make it harden. Several hours passed before it didn't crumble at her touch and she slipped the tip into the lock of her handcuffs. She worked only when the guards weren't looking, trying to figure out the blasted alien mechanism.
When the lock came open, she slipped her hands from the cuffs and moved to the cell doors. She waited patiently until a shift changed and used her rudimentary pick on the door lock. Her team had already made it through the Gate, probably already forming a rescue party. Might as well save them the trouble.
The door lock popped open and she stepped into the corridor just as the new guard came around the corner. "Hey!" he said. She lobbed her cuffs at his head and smiled as blood poured down the bridge of his nose.
She ran before his friends could show up and slipped through an unlocked door at the end of a long hallway. The courtyard was deserted on this end and she made a break for it. The Stargate was about seventy yards away on the other side of the wall. The guards zipped around the grounds on little motorized scooters and Sam appropriated one that the bleeding guard had just left behind.
The back tire kicked up dirt and she sped away from the prison. Shouts went up as people recognized her as the prisoner and more engines revved in response. She bent down to keep the wind from holding her up and felt a small burst of added speed. She rode to the DHD and pulled the handlebars back to begin spinning. She fishtailed wildly, leapt from the machine and quickly input the SGC address.
When she hit the red dome and the Stargate activated, she leapt back onto the bike and took off again. The guards had arrived and were trying their best to circle her. Fortunately, she had spent a few more years on a bike compared to these halfwits. She rode right between two of them, raising into a wheelie as she brought the bike around for another go.
A couple of guards realized her escape route and decided to cut her off at the pass. They sped through the event horizon... and promptly splattered against the Earth-side iris. Sam regretted their deaths, but refused to mourn people who had five minutes ago been building a gallows for her.
She pushed up her sleeve and held her fingers over her GDO. 0.3 seconds through to Earth, another 4.5 seconds for Walter to open the iris, 0.4 seconds for him to comply. 5.2 seconds. She keyed in her IDC and came around wide. Five... four... three... two..."
She sped forward and popped another wheelie as she rode through the Stargate.
The wheels of the bike rattled against the ramp as she came through. "Close the iris!" she yelled. Walter immediately complied - about 0.3 seconds, she guesstimated, he was getting faster... - and she fishtailed the bike to a stop at the base of the ramp.
Hammond and Colonel O'Neill rushed into the room. "Major!" Hammond said. "Are you... was it... how did you...?"
"Sorry, General," Sam said. She climbed off the bike and brushed the hardening clay from her jacket. "I'll ask Siler to clean up the skid marks."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Jack smirked. He gestured at the Stargate and said, "Quite an entrance."
"Thank you, sir," Sam said.
"We had a big rescue planned, you know."
"I know, sir," she smiled.
"Still," Jack smiled. "It would've sucked to miss that entrance."
"Yes, sir," Sam said.
Hammond watched as O'Neill walked out and said to Sam, "You know he's just going to try and top it."
Sam rolled her eyes and nodded. "Too well, sir."
5. The Right Time
"Janet," Sam whispered. She kissed the curve of Janet's breast and smoothed away the smear of lipstick she left there. "Janet."
Janet murmured. "No."
"I don't want more," Sam smiled. She licked a path from Janet's arm to her collarbone. "I just want to talk a little."
"We can talk in the morning," Janet griped. She brushed her face and rolled onto her side to face away from Sam. "Spoon me."
Sam did as instructed and flattened her palms against Janet's belly. "It's really important."
"Sleep is important."
"I know," Sam said. She kissed Janet's neck and heard her whimper. "And you certainly wore yourself out tonight." Janet giggled shyly and covered Sam's hands with her own. "I wanted to tell you that I forgot to take the dry cleaning downtown."
"Sam," Janet said. She rolled her head on the pillow and said, "I am down to one uniform. You have to take them tomorrow!"
"I will," Sam promised. She kissed Janet's lips and said, "Go to sleep."
Janet closed her eyes and let her head sink to the pillow. "You waited until I was all sated and sleepy to tell me that, didn't you? So..." she yawned, "...so I wouldn't yell at you."
"You figured me out," Sam said. "Are you mad?"
Janet sighed. "Spoon me tighter."
Sam pressed tighter and Janet patted her hand. "I am going to tear you a new one at breakfast."
"Okay," Sam smiled. She kissed Janet's shoulder and pulled her closer.