TITLE: The Trouble with Teal'c
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG for language, non-human cannibalism
CATEGORY: drama, humor, crossover
SUMMARY: Teal'c finds a new pet. 'Gate/Trek crossover.
SPOILERS: I hope not.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: No, Jack's stapler fetish has nothing to do with the actual
plot. In fact, it has nothing to do with anything. And I don't know whether
Teal'c has an apartment or not, but it was convenient for me to pretend, so
don't hurt me. Please.
I don't own these people. Wish I did, but I don't.
--------------------------------------------------
It was fortunate that Dr. Fraiser had no patients, for it took her entire staff to carry enough specimen containers to get all the tribbles out of Teal'c's quarters. Eventually, though, what finally turned out to be nearly a thousand tribbles were successfully packed up and taken to the gate room
Examining the telemetry from a UAV, Sam informed General Hammond, " The tribble population has grown alarmingly, sir. The Stargate there is almost one-third buried in them."
"That could be a problem," groaned Jack, who had come with them to escape the menial labor. "And don't raise your eyebrows like that, Carter, you look like Teal'c."
"Sorry, sir." She was, if anything, more bemused than ever, but she managed to keep the offending facial features in check with a supreme effort.
This resolved, the colonel continued more seriously, "Is there any way we could just lift those boxes up and just dump them through the Gate on top of their friends?"
"I believe there's a small forklift somewhere on base," confirmed Hammond. "I'll get it here as soon as possible." He left the room to see about it.
O'Neill flopped into a chair. "A forklift, Carter. A forklift. You can find damn near anything on this base, can't you?"
Sam sat down next to him. "If that's true, sir, than why did I spend over two hours yesterday hunting for a stapler?"
"An excellent point, Major."
"Actually, it was hidden in your office," Carter informed him with a smug smile.
Jack gaped. "Really?"
She could barely suppress laughter at the memory. "Along with several others. You have quite a collection, sir."
He was rescued from further discussion of the topic by Hammond's return and the simultaneous rumble of machinery entering the room below.
Jack got up reluctantly. "Can I help out, sir? Betcha Daniel would rather not have anything to do with that forklift."
Hammond waved him out. "Go ahead, Colonel."
Shortly afterward, Daniel joined the two of them in the control room, and all three watched and monitored the UAV video for over an houras the containers were emptied one by one through the Stargate.
-----
Later that evening, a few levels up, an excessively compassionate airman came off duty and headed for her bunkroom, looking forward to a dip into her secret candy stash. She opened the door, saw what was inside, and fainted. A passing friend insisted on taking her to the infirmary, and was so concerned that he never bothered to shut the door.
Down the corridor from Daniel's office, the commissary's head chef was astonished to discover that most of the food in a certain closet had been replaced by triblles. He had the presence of mind to close the door once he got over the initial shock, but not before half a dozen more had escaped.
By then, it was nearly 2300 hours and almost everyone had gone home. The base was currently on standdown, and nobody was there unless they absolutely had to be. It was a long time before the few remaining were able to call in sufficient backup.
General Hammond arrived first, along with a yawning security team stumbling behind him. "What's going on here, Michaels?" he demanded. "Do you realice it's nearly midnight?"
"Yes, sir, I do," replied the nervous cadet. "But, um, well, the base seems to be with infested with . . . er . . ."
"Out with it, miss," Hammond snapped.
"Tribbles, sir. There were a lot in my bunnkroom, and anouther population in one of the food storage areas, and we think they're spreading fast."
"Tribbles? Again?" The abruptly fully awake general resisted an urge to bang his head against the nearest wall.
"Yes, sir. Has this happened before?" asked Michaels, who was by now as confused as she could possibly get.
"Never mind," Hammond sighed. "We'll need to wake up some more people. Call SG-1; this whole mess is their fault and they might as well help fix it. Also call Doctor Fraiser, alonf with her staff, and see if you can find some more security people. Dismissed."
The airman saluted and ran off. As soon as she was gone, General Hammond slipped out himself for a cup of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it. Badly.
-----
It was another half-hour before all necessary personnel had arrived on base. In that time, despite everyone's best efforts, the tribbles managed to spread almost through the whole base. One or two had even gotten into the control room; only the gate room and Hammond's office remained clear, through a special effort by the guards.
Carter, Jackson, and Teal'c arriverd surprisingly quickly-barely ten minutes after they were called-having been together in Teal'c's apartment watching Star Wars (again). O'Neill, however, was conspicuously absent, and Hammond asked the obvious question.
Daniel made a sympathetic face. "Jack said he had a lot of paperwork to do. He was still here when we left. I figured he'd gone home by now."
Hammond shook his head. "There was no answer at the phone there."
"He might still be in his office, sir," Sam offered. She picked up the phone, dialed, and let it ring a few times, then hung up. "No luck."
Teal'c opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off when the phone rang almost as soon as it was set down. Sam grabbed it. "Hello?"
"Dammit, Carter!" the speaker bellowed.
She held it away from her ear. "Sir?" On second thought, Carter switched the phone to speaker so they could all hear, although that wasn't difficult anyway, considering the volume at which Jack was yelling.
"What the hell is wrong with you people? I've been trying to get through for half an hour. Let me talk to Daniel, will ya?"
"Hi, Jack," greeted the archaeologist cautiously. "You're on speaker, by the way. No need to shout." The voice at the other end quieted slightly. "Hey, Danny. I'm afraid your food stores have gone the same way as Teal'c's."
In the office, the rest of SG-1 looked at each other in confusion; the general had not yet explained the situation to them. "Jack," Daniel asked, "where are you?"
"I'm trapped in your office, actually."
"WHAT?" Jackson spluttered. "What the hell are you doing in my office?"In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Teal'c raised both eyebrows.
"I was trying to get a snack, and I didn't feel like going all the way to the commissary. By the way, gotta congratulate you on how well you've hid all your food from me. Problem is, some of Teal'c's little friends-"
"They are not my friends, O'Neill," interrupted the Jaffa reprovingly.
"Whatever they are, they had the same idea. What's more, I think they've found your secret hiding place, whatever it is, because they're three or four deep in here and still going."
"And you are . . .?"
" I'm perched on your desk, hoping not to get buried alive. And I didn't even find a measly candy bar, for crying out loud." Daniel resisted the urge to grin in pride at the success of his food-hiding skills.
"Can you clear a path through them, Colonel?" suggested Hammond.
"I tried, but the damn things just fall right back into place. It's like digging a hole in water, sir."
"Step on them," Sam recommended. Daniel turned slightly green at the thought.
"I tried that. Nearly broke my ankle sliding on tribble guts. And, what's worse, it would seem that tribble guts make excellent tribble food."
All four people in the office made nauseated faces. "O'Neill," Teal'c rumbled, "that knowledge might have been best left unimparted."
"Just get me outta here before I drown in these damn tribbles, okay? I'm beginning to understand all too well why the Klingons thought these things were evil."
"We'll be right down, sir," Sam assured him.
"And bring the biggest wheelbarrow you can get. You'll need it."
"I don't think we have any wheelbarrows, Colonel."
"Sure ya do. They're wherever you found that forklift." Jack hung up.
--------------------------------------------------
It was fortunate that Dr. Fraiser had no patients, for it took her entire staff to carry enough specimen containers to get all the tribbles out of Teal'c's quarters. Eventually, though, what finally turned out to be nearly a thousand tribbles were successfully packed up and taken to the gate room
Examining the telemetry from a UAV, Sam informed General Hammond, " The tribble population has grown alarmingly, sir. The Stargate there is almost one-third buried in them."
"That could be a problem," groaned Jack, who had come with them to escape the menial labor. "And don't raise your eyebrows like that, Carter, you look like Teal'c."
"Sorry, sir." She was, if anything, more bemused than ever, but she managed to keep the offending facial features in check with a supreme effort.
This resolved, the colonel continued more seriously, "Is there any way we could just lift those boxes up and just dump them through the Gate on top of their friends?"
"I believe there's a small forklift somewhere on base," confirmed Hammond. "I'll get it here as soon as possible." He left the room to see about it.
O'Neill flopped into a chair. "A forklift, Carter. A forklift. You can find damn near anything on this base, can't you?"
Sam sat down next to him. "If that's true, sir, than why did I spend over two hours yesterday hunting for a stapler?"
"An excellent point, Major."
"Actually, it was hidden in your office," Carter informed him with a smug smile.
Jack gaped. "Really?"
She could barely suppress laughter at the memory. "Along with several others. You have quite a collection, sir."
He was rescued from further discussion of the topic by Hammond's return and the simultaneous rumble of machinery entering the room below.
Jack got up reluctantly. "Can I help out, sir? Betcha Daniel would rather not have anything to do with that forklift."
Hammond waved him out. "Go ahead, Colonel."
Shortly afterward, Daniel joined the two of them in the control room, and all three watched and monitored the UAV video for over an houras the containers were emptied one by one through the Stargate.
-----
Later that evening, a few levels up, an excessively compassionate airman came off duty and headed for her bunkroom, looking forward to a dip into her secret candy stash. She opened the door, saw what was inside, and fainted. A passing friend insisted on taking her to the infirmary, and was so concerned that he never bothered to shut the door.
Down the corridor from Daniel's office, the commissary's head chef was astonished to discover that most of the food in a certain closet had been replaced by triblles. He had the presence of mind to close the door once he got over the initial shock, but not before half a dozen more had escaped.
By then, it was nearly 2300 hours and almost everyone had gone home. The base was currently on standdown, and nobody was there unless they absolutely had to be. It was a long time before the few remaining were able to call in sufficient backup.
General Hammond arrived first, along with a yawning security team stumbling behind him. "What's going on here, Michaels?" he demanded. "Do you realice it's nearly midnight?"
"Yes, sir, I do," replied the nervous cadet. "But, um, well, the base seems to be with infested with . . . er . . ."
"Out with it, miss," Hammond snapped.
"Tribbles, sir. There were a lot in my bunnkroom, and anouther population in one of the food storage areas, and we think they're spreading fast."
"Tribbles? Again?" The abruptly fully awake general resisted an urge to bang his head against the nearest wall.
"Yes, sir. Has this happened before?" asked Michaels, who was by now as confused as she could possibly get.
"Never mind," Hammond sighed. "We'll need to wake up some more people. Call SG-1; this whole mess is their fault and they might as well help fix it. Also call Doctor Fraiser, alonf with her staff, and see if you can find some more security people. Dismissed."
The airman saluted and ran off. As soon as she was gone, General Hammond slipped out himself for a cup of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it. Badly.
-----
It was another half-hour before all necessary personnel had arrived on base. In that time, despite everyone's best efforts, the tribbles managed to spread almost through the whole base. One or two had even gotten into the control room; only the gate room and Hammond's office remained clear, through a special effort by the guards.
Carter, Jackson, and Teal'c arriverd surprisingly quickly-barely ten minutes after they were called-having been together in Teal'c's apartment watching Star Wars (again). O'Neill, however, was conspicuously absent, and Hammond asked the obvious question.
Daniel made a sympathetic face. "Jack said he had a lot of paperwork to do. He was still here when we left. I figured he'd gone home by now."
Hammond shook his head. "There was no answer at the phone there."
"He might still be in his office, sir," Sam offered. She picked up the phone, dialed, and let it ring a few times, then hung up. "No luck."
Teal'c opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off when the phone rang almost as soon as it was set down. Sam grabbed it. "Hello?"
"Dammit, Carter!" the speaker bellowed.
She held it away from her ear. "Sir?" On second thought, Carter switched the phone to speaker so they could all hear, although that wasn't difficult anyway, considering the volume at which Jack was yelling.
"What the hell is wrong with you people? I've been trying to get through for half an hour. Let me talk to Daniel, will ya?"
"Hi, Jack," greeted the archaeologist cautiously. "You're on speaker, by the way. No need to shout." The voice at the other end quieted slightly. "Hey, Danny. I'm afraid your food stores have gone the same way as Teal'c's."
In the office, the rest of SG-1 looked at each other in confusion; the general had not yet explained the situation to them. "Jack," Daniel asked, "where are you?"
"I'm trapped in your office, actually."
"WHAT?" Jackson spluttered. "What the hell are you doing in my office?"In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Teal'c raised both eyebrows.
"I was trying to get a snack, and I didn't feel like going all the way to the commissary. By the way, gotta congratulate you on how well you've hid all your food from me. Problem is, some of Teal'c's little friends-"
"They are not my friends, O'Neill," interrupted the Jaffa reprovingly.
"Whatever they are, they had the same idea. What's more, I think they've found your secret hiding place, whatever it is, because they're three or four deep in here and still going."
"And you are . . .?"
" I'm perched on your desk, hoping not to get buried alive. And I didn't even find a measly candy bar, for crying out loud." Daniel resisted the urge to grin in pride at the success of his food-hiding skills.
"Can you clear a path through them, Colonel?" suggested Hammond.
"I tried, but the damn things just fall right back into place. It's like digging a hole in water, sir."
"Step on them," Sam recommended. Daniel turned slightly green at the thought.
"I tried that. Nearly broke my ankle sliding on tribble guts. And, what's worse, it would seem that tribble guts make excellent tribble food."
All four people in the office made nauseated faces. "O'Neill," Teal'c rumbled, "that knowledge might have been best left unimparted."
"Just get me outta here before I drown in these damn tribbles, okay? I'm beginning to understand all too well why the Klingons thought these things were evil."
"We'll be right down, sir," Sam assured him.
"And bring the biggest wheelbarrow you can get. You'll need it."
"I don't think we have any wheelbarrows, Colonel."
"Sure ya do. They're wherever you found that forklift." Jack hung up.