Ficlet request: Spectator Sport (G)
This one is for trindajae, who wanted Sam and Jack and "I could warn him... But then it wouldn't be as funny." Takes place in Season 5, probably. Word count: ~550
Spectator Sport
The man had all the arrogance and bad manners and immaturity of Rodney McKay.
And those were his good qualities. McKay, at least, came by his arrogance honestly.
Sam watched as Dr. Rudolph Trabenburg pontificated at length to the welcoming committee from P4X-037. He spoke loudly and slowly, which he apparently assumed would compensate for his inability to speak the native language.
She heard a familiar footfall, and then the colonel came to a halt at her side.
"Carter," he greeted her.
"Sir," she acknowledged absently, not looking away from the spectacle twenty meters away.
"Having fun?"
She did look away, then, to glance in his direction. His face was alive with humor as he watched her.
"Yes," she admitted. She waved a covert hand in Trabenburg's direction. "It's kind of like watching a train wreck in slow motion, actually."
"Now, Major," he drawled. "Surely you jest! I would be astonished to learn that Doctor Trabenburg failed to consult with you about the Doori."
"Prepare to be astonished, sir," Sam said lightly. "Trabenburg isn't exactly one for consultation."
He hadn't bothered to ask if the Doori could speak English.
They could.
He'd assumed, after one look at their simple homespun and leather, that they had no technological understanding.
They did.
Trabenburg was gesturing back at the Stargate now, his hands miming the kawhoosh. The Doori's poker faces were slowly morphing into incredulous anger, but Trabenburg was oblivious.
"He's trying to tell them about the wormhole and the apple?" O'Neill guessed.
"Apparently."
"You did mention in your briefing, Carter, that the Doori think quantum mathematics is kindergarten stuff?"
"They are definitely light years ahead of us, yes, sir," Sam said.
He gave her a keen look, then pretended that the pun had gone right over his head. "So, if he didn't bother listening to the briefing, he probably didn't read the report, either."
"No, sir, he probably didn't."
"Which means that Trabenburg doesn't know that Panni there," O'Neill nodded at the young woman standing directly opposite Trabenburg, "has earned the equivalent of three or four doctorates by our standards."
"Since he's trying to teach her how to work the DHD, I think we can safely assume that."
He rocked back on his heels. "Didn't Daniel say that the Doori intelligentsia tend to settle academic disagreements by brawling?"
Sam ducked her head a little to hide her smile. "Something like that, yes."
O'Neill eyed Trabenburg, who had barely fulfilled the minimum physical fitness requirements for offworld travel. "He's going to be kissing dirt," he predicted.
"If he doesn't buy a clue in the next thirty seconds," Sam agreed sweetly. Trabenburg's chauvinistic, patronizing attitude extended far beyond the Doori. He'd actually called her "little lady" when she'd tried to speak to him before the mission. "I don't think he will, though."
"Not going to try and stop it, Carter?"
"Oh, I could warn him," Sam conceded. This time she didn't bother to hide the slow grin that spread across her face as she watched Trabenburg condescendingly pat Panni's shoulder. "But then it wouldn't be as funny."
"There is that," the colonel agreed. He settled his cap more firmly on his head. "Shall we go and get a ringside seat?"
"Yes, sir!"
Sam hummed under her breath as the two of them strolled towards the impending explosion. Little moments like this, she decided, were definitely to be treasured.
Spectator Sport
The man had all the arrogance and bad manners and immaturity of Rodney McKay.
And those were his good qualities. McKay, at least, came by his arrogance honestly.
Sam watched as Dr. Rudolph Trabenburg pontificated at length to the welcoming committee from P4X-037. He spoke loudly and slowly, which he apparently assumed would compensate for his inability to speak the native language.
She heard a familiar footfall, and then the colonel came to a halt at her side.
"Carter," he greeted her.
"Sir," she acknowledged absently, not looking away from the spectacle twenty meters away.
"Having fun?"
She did look away, then, to glance in his direction. His face was alive with humor as he watched her.
"Yes," she admitted. She waved a covert hand in Trabenburg's direction. "It's kind of like watching a train wreck in slow motion, actually."
"Now, Major," he drawled. "Surely you jest! I would be astonished to learn that Doctor Trabenburg failed to consult with you about the Doori."
"Prepare to be astonished, sir," Sam said lightly. "Trabenburg isn't exactly one for consultation."
He hadn't bothered to ask if the Doori could speak English.
They could.
He'd assumed, after one look at their simple homespun and leather, that they had no technological understanding.
They did.
Trabenburg was gesturing back at the Stargate now, his hands miming the kawhoosh. The Doori's poker faces were slowly morphing into incredulous anger, but Trabenburg was oblivious.
"He's trying to tell them about the wormhole and the apple?" O'Neill guessed.
"Apparently."
"You did mention in your briefing, Carter, that the Doori think quantum mathematics is kindergarten stuff?"
"They are definitely light years ahead of us, yes, sir," Sam said.
He gave her a keen look, then pretended that the pun had gone right over his head. "So, if he didn't bother listening to the briefing, he probably didn't read the report, either."
"No, sir, he probably didn't."
"Which means that Trabenburg doesn't know that Panni there," O'Neill nodded at the young woman standing directly opposite Trabenburg, "has earned the equivalent of three or four doctorates by our standards."
"Since he's trying to teach her how to work the DHD, I think we can safely assume that."
He rocked back on his heels. "Didn't Daniel say that the Doori intelligentsia tend to settle academic disagreements by brawling?"
Sam ducked her head a little to hide her smile. "Something like that, yes."
O'Neill eyed Trabenburg, who had barely fulfilled the minimum physical fitness requirements for offworld travel. "He's going to be kissing dirt," he predicted.
"If he doesn't buy a clue in the next thirty seconds," Sam agreed sweetly. Trabenburg's chauvinistic, patronizing attitude extended far beyond the Doori. He'd actually called her "little lady" when she'd tried to speak to him before the mission. "I don't think he will, though."
"Not going to try and stop it, Carter?"
"Oh, I could warn him," Sam conceded. This time she didn't bother to hide the slow grin that spread across her face as she watched Trabenburg condescendingly pat Panni's shoulder. "But then it wouldn't be as funny."
"There is that," the colonel agreed. He settled his cap more firmly on his head. "Shall we go and get a ringside seat?"
"Yes, sir!"
Sam hummed under her breath as the two of them strolled towards the impending explosion. Little moments like this, she decided, were definitely to be treasured.