Mo'Minion
Chapter 2
Fat Stacks
They drugged her.
He doesn't know if she knows, or if this is one of those things they'll sweep under the rug with her. Like the time she went missing for two weeks and when she came back—it still upsets his stomach.
She used her never ending web of contacts to secure them a cargo ship, one that, of course, barely works, and guaranteed herself a pay raise if her plan is successful—which is very likely won't be. He and Mitchell have already started discussing contingency plans because there is no way they're going to talk a dejected and frightened Vala into coming back to the SGC with them.
They're probably going to have to hunt her down.
"If push comes to shove, we can always zat her and get her on the ship." Mitchell sits across from him, hands crammed together and elbows on his knees, a really relax stance for a military Lieutenant Colonel—too much of a relaxed stance for anyone to have right now.
Teal'c and Sam speak in broken whispers up in the cockpit area, he catches a few sentences here and there. Discussing logistics, distances and the geographical information of the planet they're dropping her off on. But they never discuss how dangerous it is, how unnecessary it is.
"We're not zatting her." Rubs his hot hand over his face, feels the tightness in his eyes from lack of sleep, from not being able to relax, from lingering allergies and ancient dust getting sucked into his sinuses that sit heavy like his stomach.
Mitchell cranks his head back to him from watching Vala sleep. She's tucked on her side on one of the benches, a fuzzy blanket tucked up around her shoulders, her wrists limp, but her fingers curled into her palm. Always figured she'd snore—it would just fit her character—but she never has, not on overnight missions, or during car trips, or falling asleep in his lab or the cafeteria. Even when they shared a bed as Harrod and Salis, she just sort of hummed in her sleep, like it's white noise to allow her own mind to relax.
"If it means getting her ass back on this ship, then hell yeah we are."
"She already doesn't trust us," he huffs gesturing to her, his voice a little loud, his body a little on edge because this plan is so idiotic and has the biggest holes for her to slip right through and into a bounty hunter's hands, or back to the Goa'uld, or just anywhere not back on Earth.
"Forgive me if I'm wrong here, Sunshine." Mitchell's eyebrow cocks towards him and his lips take on a wayward grin. "But didn't you zat her more than once when you first met?"
"She was dangerous then. She didn't know—"
"And now she knows us, but she's not going to like us—"
"Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c beckons from the controls.
Mitchell stands, stretching a bit. "As much as she's part of the team, we have no idea what she's capable of."
Doesn't say a word, just glances back at her, making sure she's still cozy and calm. That she can enjoy these final few minutes before they abandon her.
Teal'c points at a planet, it's Earth adjacent, land and water masses, more brown than green though and he thinks it's going to be one of those medieval, prairie planets instead of a pastoral one.
"We will be landing in ten minutes."
"What's the game plan?" Sam questions, signaling something be given to her with a quick curl of her fingers.
Mitchell shuffles, his fatigues ruffling as he reaches back into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. His real wallet, not an assigned one for a mission. He cracks it open, flipping through and there's a driver's license, and—
"They're copies." Must see his face turn a little white as he hands the wallet to Sam who stashes it full of some currency.
"She's too good at picking out details that don't fit." Sam tells him this like he doesn't know, like he's never wanted to take her to a museum, just to see how many of the paintings are replicas, but he has a fear that she'll just leave with some.
Mitchell salutes with his wallet, pushing away from the back of the chairs, and moving towards Vala. "We drop her off, take off, and get no sleep for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours while we wait at the destination."
"We're not going to wait for her to wake up?" He sounds incredulous. He shouldn't be at this point, but the amount of ways her plan can go wrong has now skyrocketed.
"Well now that would defeat the purpose of the whole plan." Mitchell stops before her, sort of looking down, with an unusual expression on his face.
"We drugged her."
"Daniel," Sam sighs his name and he knows she doesn't agree, but at this point they're pressed for time and need answers. "It was her plan."
"And it was a stupid plan. I still have no idea—"
"Yo, Jackson." Mitchell's voice overpowers the rant that he was about to launch into. He takes a step back from her, holding out the wallet. "If you want, you can remain behind incognito and make sure she remains untouched while in Sleeping Beauty mode."
It's not an ideal win, and ideal win would be puttering back to Earth and going to an art museum, because she's probably never been to one, and the only pictures she sees on base are of American flags, presidents, and Sha're
But he'll take it.
"Fine."
"Also, you gotta slip this into the pocket on her jacket or something." Slides the wallet into his hand, worn, thin leather, but heavy with enough money to keep her safe.
"Why don't you just do it?"
"Because I don't want her waking up and kicking me in the throat."