Zeroth law of thermodynamics: If two systems are in thermal equilibrium independently with a third system, they must be in thermal equilibrium with each other. This law helps define the notion of temperature.
Mikhail Kirillovich Chekov, Colonel of the Russian Air Force, was not a happy camper. Thirteen hours stuck in transit to Colorado Springs would do that to any brave the Fates not happy with his suffering, had decided to make him suffer still more. It had been another one of THOSE days in USA. Another pissing match between himself and O'Neill, one more long drawn out meeting with Richard Woolsey where he fought for his country's rights. He had a headache as though a Vodianoi had risen from the depths and had struggled to drown him. Meanwhile, his stomach was roiling in his gut, full of bitter acid from far too many cups of undrinkable coffee. Probably it was a good thing he hadn't eaten anything in the last day, not the way his belly was feeling.
One would think that a nation that prided itself on its capitalism entrepreneurship would know how to brew a proper cup of coffee. While he preferred Russian tea himself, at times like this, Mikhail drank whatever beverage was required to keep him upright including the sludge they used to pave the roads. God knew that the crimes the Yanks committed against coffee were nothing compared to what they inflicted to tea. He should present Hammond with a samovar so his Russian teams could have decent tea.
Yes, his teams, Chekov's teams. While they reported to Hammond, still Mikhail insisted on overseeing them. While he was sure their team leaders could handle the minor day to day problems, Mikhail had long accepted that his role was to be the Russian Bear. Big, brutal and angry, but if it meant his people were treated well, then so be it.
Time to visit the infirmary, beg a pain pill. Then to dinner. Yet first, he really needed to talk to his fellow countrymen, to determine how the new member of SG4 was fitting in. However, his meeting with Hammond and Woolsey had run late, and a quick check of his watch proved it highly unlikely that he'd catch them anytime soon.
Janet Fraiser was not having a good day. She had already patched up four SG units, dealt with O'Neil and … Someone had found her secret stash of coffee. And… the miscreant had absconded with it. She'd sniff Daniel Jackson later, to see if he smelled of Arabica. And if he did, so help him God.
Besides Janet dealing with caffeine crooks, her problem children in SG12 had decided to take a collective header off the ramp. Not to be outdone, most of sg19 had been trampled by something large and furry and… brown. Colonel O'Neill, being quite the wit, had convinced the commander of SG19 to christen the large, furry mammal Snuffy Snuffleupagus. After Hammond had read that report, he required a visit to the infirmary for something to settle his stomach. He had been there for all of two minutes before disappearing back into his office. Hammond had been last been heard muttering about retirement, and Snuffleupaguses and how the hell was he supposed to convince the government to continue to support their mission when they were facing Sesame Street characters?
Cassie was having dinner with one of her friends. Fortunately, as SG14 was coming in hot and Janet had no idea when she'd leave the mountain.
If she ever got out of the infirmary. But she better get out of the mountain tonight. She had promised Cassandra that she'd find time to help her daughter with her Advanced Placement European Literature homework. The report wasn't due until next week but Cassandra wasn't having much luck with the subject matter and neither was Janet. The less mentioned about the government class the better. Janet's political beliefs were personal, as she was a firm believer in that politics was a subject much like sex and religion. Best left unmentioned in mixed company especially around males with guns.
Cassie was an overachiever, as she was taking Advanced Placement Physics also, which was causing her no end of grief. Samantha had offered to tutor her, but she was often away, and the midterm was looming
There was a large crash as someone or someones had bounced off each other. Great more wounded. There was a spat of guttural language and a quick apology in English to Colonel Chekov. Really, did the Colonel not expect anyone to understand his caustic comment about big footed Americans not watching where they were going?
The nurses were all giving her big, puppy dog eyes, quietly pleading that she, as the Chief Medical Officer, deal with the Russian bear.
He was glowering. Which was to be expected. Chekov had three emotions, yelling, glowering or if you hit the jackpot, you got yelling, glowering, finger pointing. Chekov.
"Is there a problem, Colonel?" Janet had been told her Russian was passable, and so she decided to teach the bear some manners. But politely, with a rolled up newspaper, as Janet really preferred that the Colonel Grouchy Bear didn't rip her head off and hand it to her. "There are injured people coming in."
"Are they my people? They just left," he questioned. In Russian, as though he expected her to understand him. It took her a bit to comprehend him, as his accent was impeccable; as well, Colonel Grouchy Bear, Colonel… what was the Russian word for bear?
Medvedev … Yes, that was the word.
Colonel Medvedev … he was a native. Plus, he used vocabulary that she wasn't familiar with because she had only learned Russian to fill her time while stationed on an Air Force base hours from local civilization. Her time had been spent biting her tongue on useful phrases such as "Where is the bathroom?" not medical terminology.
"Nyet," she finally managed to say while Colonel Grouchy Bear not so patiently waited for her to respond. Maybe she shouldn't call him Medvedev … because bears were big, lumbering creatures that weren't particularly bright. If Chekov was cranially challenged, he wouldn't be at SGC. No, he was there because he was a political beast, crafty and sly, which meant his glowering, grouch routine was an act.
"Your accent is fair," he told her in his heavily accented English. Approvingly, as though the thought that they needed people to translate his English at times, had never crossed his mind. "But you need to put more grrr into it. You should sound like you're cursing." He then repeated what she had said to him, putting a great deal of grizzly grrr into it.
"Thank you for the advice," she murmured.
"Any time," he assured her, deliberately failing to note her irony. Then in Russian, "Do you have anything for a headache, Doctor?"
He was in luck as she always carried at least two of her favorite tiny miracles, Tylenols Extra Strength, in her pocket. Janet handed them to him, and promised that she'd get him a glass of water.
Instead of waiting, he popped them into his mouth and began chewing them. Then Chekov swallowed even while Janet's inners screamed a futile protest.
"You're going to ruin your esophagus," she growled. "You can't swallow pills without any water. You'll tear a hole in your esophagus and bleed out."
He repeated what she said in Russian, and then waited for her. Expectantly.
Good Lord, he was giving her Russian lessons? Like she had time? Like she'd ever need to know the proper Russian term for esophagus? She spat it back at him and he shook his head.
"Like a bear, not a little kitten," Chekov chastised. "Again."
He growled like the proverbial Russian bear, but his brown eyes… they were amused.
"If you have time to try to improve my Russian, I think you can leave."
"Dasvidania," he stated, with a quick, abrupt nod of his head.
"Yeah, yeah, see you later, alligator," she snapped as she had wounded personnel to patch up. She saw a stretcher being wheeled in, and her heart skipped a beat or three in terror. Then she relaxed; what she had first mistaken to be copious amounts of fresh blood, was in fact, bright red fur that reminded her a muppet or three. "Don't tell me, Elmo? Or was it Animal?"
Janet Fraiser picked up Cassandra from her friend's house at the proper time. It was fortunate that Cassandra's best friend had parents who were in the military, so they understood that sometimes Janet would be late due to an emergency at the base.
"What did you have for dinner?" she asked Cassandra the minute they pulled away from the curb, as Cassandra's taste buds were finicky.
"They had pizza," Cassandra admitted. "I had a slice to be polite."
"So, Chinese then?" Janet asked, even as she maneuvered the car into the turning lane to their favorite Chinese restaurant.
"Thought you'd never ask," Cassandra giggled. "Besides, I'm sure you didn't eat."
"No. Busy day," Janet admitted. "The teams were attacked by Muppets. Plus there was a Grizzly Bear in the mountain today. All he did was growl, I have such a headache."
Thanks to O'Neill's 'helpful influence', originally mediated by Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson, and then finally reined in by Grandpa George, the alien Cassandra had quickly come up to speed on American Culture. The good, the bad, the not suitable for primetime. "They were attacked by Kermit?"
"Worse than that, Elmo." Janet deadpanned which earned her a happy laugh from Cassandra.
"What do you say? The usual?" Janet asked Cassandra as they peered over the very familiar menu. "Kung Poa Chicken?"
"Ramp up the spice," Cassandra reminded her. "I like it spicy, reminds me of home."
"Actually, if you want spicy, ask for Ma po tofu," stated a male voice. Russian. Oh great, the Bear had found them. "Good afternoon, Dr. Fraiser."
Janet Fraiser struggled not to grimace, so she focused instead on presenting a pleasant façade. "Cassie, this is Colonel Chekov. He is the Russian attaché that works with General Hammond."
Cassie smiled and warmly greeted the Colonel. He returned the greeting and then asked her about various Chinese dishes and her preferences. The culinary inquisition completed, he turned to the counter man where he began chattering in high speed Mandarin. The counterman spoke in turn, then nodded his head in agreement. Their dialogue concluded, Chekov turned back to Cassie.
"Pick a table, and they'll bring everything over when it's ready," he suggested.
"It's a school night," Janet protested. "Cassie has homework, so we should be getting home. Cassie, you have physics, right? We have to get ours to go, as she needs to focus on that."
Really, she was grasping at straws even as Cassie loudly protested as she desired nothing more than an escape from her Physics homework.
Alas, an easy escape was not to be had, as fickle fate had other plans.
"You need help with your physics? I can help," Chekov offered. "Do you have your books? It will take them a while to cook what I ordered. I have a background in physics."
That's how an unwilling Janet Fraiser found herself sitting in the Chinese Dragon, having dinner with Colonel Chekov, while he began detailing the concepts of conductors, capacitors and dielectrics to Cassie. After several cups of tea and a scallion pancake or three, combined with having the world's smallest bladder, she had to make her escape as nature was a calling. Plus the main course was delayed, even though the other tables had been served and CLEARED. Where the hell were they getting the dinner from? Beijing?
"I don't think your mother is happy," Chekov admitted to Cassie. "I'll ask them to make your food so you can take it home. I come here frequently and they make real Chinese once they realized I spoke Mandarin and Cantonese. It's much better than what they serve the others."
"Actually, I want to stay," Cassie admitted. "You are explaining this in such a way that I can understand it. It's almost logical the way you explain it. I hadn't understood the concept of dielectrics until now."
"Of course it makes sense. It's nature. Nature is logical, we just don't understand her rules. However, your mother wishes to go, so I'm afraid our class must end for the evening. We can make arrangements to meet again tomorrow if it is convenient." The Russian colonel looked for the waiter, but Cassie stopped him.
"Mom had a bad day at work and she has a headache. There was a bear that roared and growled," was Cassie's guileless answer.
Cassie gestured her confusion when Chekov barked a laugh.
"Really? I did not growl at your mother. I am always on my best behavior with your mother as she is …" The Russian stopped, pondered for a bit and then softly continued, "She treats my people as though they were Hammond's people. It is very rare, and much appreciated by them and by myself."
"Colonel," Cassie protested. "I know Sam…."
The Russian held out his hand in silent protest, "You know them one way. I know them as another. Understand that there were many decades of hostility between our two countries. Some can overlook it and work towards a new tomorrow, while others…nurse old wounds."
There was a clattering of wheels as the waiters rolled in a large collection of pots. They began to arrange them around the table and Chekov nodded his head in approval as he reviewed the various items. "The Chongqing hot pot is arriving and your mother has not returned. Perhaps you can share some with me before you depart. However, this is a chance to improve your understanding of physics. Explain to me how the hot pot demonstrates the four laws of thermal dynamics."
"Colonel," protested Cassie.
"Michael," Chekov retorted. "You are not in the military, Cassandra. Do not call me Colonel. Call me Michael."
"Michael Chekov?" Cassie questioned in disbelief.
"It's actually Mikhail, but Michael is close enough," Chekov explained. "I'm in America, after all."
"Mikhail?" Cassie tried out the name, and the Russian nodded his head in approval of her pronunciation.
"For formal occasions," he explained. "For less formal occasions, among friends, I am Misha."
And Cassandra Fraiser, the lone survivor of a world known as Hanka, felt sympathy for Chekov. She wondered if the foreigner in a strange land, so much like herself in some ways, and yet not, had anyone who cared enough to call him Misha.
Cassandra smiled, and held out her hand, "And I'm Cassie, Misha."
He shook it and then pounced, "Now, Cassie, the four laws of thermal dynamics as demonstrated by the hot pot."
Naturally, Janet was delayed so by the time she came back to the table, dinner had been served and Cassie was blushing. The Russian Bear was quietly applauding as Cassie had answered his questions correctly.
"What did I miss?" Janet asked even as Chekov paid the bill. "No, no, no. I'm paying for dinner as you helped Cassie with her homework."
Chekov protested and then laughingly added, "No, Dr. Fraiser, I insist that you permit the grouchy bear pay for your dinner."
"No, Misha! You promised you wouldn't tell her what I said," protested Cassie.
For a moment, Janet felt that she had been sucked up by the wormhole and then deposited on another planet. Misha?
"Misha?" Janet asked. "You're calling him Misha?"
"I asked her to call me Michael," Chekov explained. "If I'm tutoring her in Physics for her midterm, suggested that she could call me Michael."
What? Janet mouthed.
"But that's too American," protested Cassie. "Mikhail is too formal, so he's Misha."
Misha? Janet mouthed as really, she was four steps behind everyone in this conversation.
"Now, tonight redo your first three quizzes and give them to your mother. I will review and revise them tomorrow so we can discuss them tomorrow at our tutoring session. Now, eat, before it gets cold," Chekov requested as he expertly began to utilize his chopsticks.
"Before the entropy of the system reaches a constant value," Cassie corrected as she grabbed her chopsticks.