TITLE: The Trouble with Jack
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG for language and evilness by a red shirt (gasp!)
CATEGORY: Humor, suspense
SUMMARY: Jack's stapler fetish is getting worse, and Siler is developing a terrible case of corridor rage. When the two cross, it ain't pretty.
SPOILERS: minor for "Heroes 1," again.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Did I say this would be done soon? I think I lied . . . because I'm improvising the plotline as I go along, and thus confusing the heck out of myself.
I think this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. Sorry if that makes anyone sad, I just couldn't stretch it out any further. The rare treat of plot advancement should compensate, however.
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Three trips, four, five . . . Siler lost count somewhere around twenty. Crawling back and forth between O'Neill's office and his own, no matter how easy it had seemed at first, quickly became tedious as hell. Even the highly amusing mental image of the rewards he'd reap in the end could only sustain him for so long. Finally he resorted to remembering what O'Neill had done to Arnold, and the anger this stirred up was more than sufficient to keep Siler going until nearly all the tribbles had been moved and the remainder safely penned away for possible future use. The transport case he left, quite intentionally, on top of the desk; he could only hope it wouldn't be buried by the time he needed it to be seen.
As it turned out, the task took nearly fifty round trips through the ventilators. Siler had never been even remotely claustrophobic, but he suspected he was on the verge of it right now. There was nothing he wanted more at the moment than to get as far away from the mountain as humanly possible, preferably to the biggest, emptiest place he could find.
As a matter of fact, just floating in outer space, with or without a suit, was sounding pretty good right about then.
But he couldn't do that—at least not yet, anyway. First he had to finish dealing with the tribble infestation that had just, well, mysteriously appeared out of nowhere in Colonel O'Neill's office.
Arnold would be freed very, very soon now.
-----
Siler made his way to the corridor just outside the commissary and peered warily around the corner. His timing was perfect—SG-1 was just leaving. O'Neill's voice carried clearly. "I've gotta go see Hammond about something. I'll catch up with you later, kids." Siler grinned widely—things couldn't be more perfect. He wondered idly whether General Hammond would have the sense to hide his stapler before O'Neill got there.
He waited until Jackson (who was, at least for now, safe, being the only one who had actually noticed Siler's absence) had also gone his own way, and then pounced swiftly on his target. "Major Carter!"
Carter and Teal'c both stopped and turned around immediately. She gave him a brief nod of greeting, and then frowned at the serious expression he'd forced onto his face. "Is there a problem, Sergeant?"
"Not really, sir." He laughed nervously—the nerves, at least, were genuine. "It's just that I found something rather, um, unusual in Colonel O'Neill's office, and I thought you might like to have a look."
"In that case," Teal'c pointed out, "would it not be better to inform O'Neill himself?"
"Yes, but," Siler improvised, "I heard him say he had to go somewhere else, so I thought you could deal with it more quickly. Sir," he added hastily, having nearly forgotten to maintain at least a semblance of subordination to her.
"Just what kind of 'unusual' thing are we talking about here, anyway?" Carter asked.
He shrugged. "I honestly don't know, sir. That's why I'm asking you." Damn. He hadn't meant to say that last part out loud.
Fortunately, Carter either didn't notice or didn't care, although she still looked rather dubious. "All right, Sergeant. Lead the way."
"I will accompany you, Major Carter," Teal'c said instantly. "Further assistance may be required in eradication of the problem, whatever it may be."
Siler worried about this temporarily as they headed back towards O'Neill's office—he hadn't planned on Teal'c coming along. On second thought, though, it might be a good thing. After all, Teal'c had done his own fair share of bowling over throughout the past six and a half years. Come to think of it, it had been he who had set Siler on fire three weeks ago. (Testing a new safety vest? Yeah, right. Siler knew for a fact that at least half the personnel in the SGC were closet pyros.)
Also, he'd heard that the tribbles had gotten on base in the first place thanks to Teal'c, although he didn't know why.
No, Teal'c's presence wasn't going to be a problem. Not a problem at all.
-----
Siler had made certain to leave the door of the office securely shut but unlocked, so it was easy for him to let Teal'c and Major Carter in when they arrived. Rather than follow them in, though, he quickly shut the door again behind them, swiftly drew a zat from one of his many voluminous pockets, and fired it three times at the electronic lock. The mechanism didn't vaporize at the third shot, as a person would have, but it did fuse together, sealing the door shut.
Siler shoved the weapon back into its pocket and chuckled joyfully. If his luck held, he was going to be having a lot of fun very soon.
AUTHOR: Cyn(di)
EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com
RATING: PG for language and evilness by a red shirt (gasp!)
CATEGORY: Humor, suspense
SUMMARY: Jack's stapler fetish is getting worse, and Siler is developing a terrible case of corridor rage. When the two cross, it ain't pretty.
SPOILERS: minor for "Heroes 1," again.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Did I say this would be done soon? I think I lied . . . because I'm improvising the plotline as I go along, and thus confusing the heck out of myself.
I think this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. Sorry if that makes anyone sad, I just couldn't stretch it out any further. The rare treat of plot advancement should compensate, however.
--------------------------------------------------
Three trips, four, five . . . Siler lost count somewhere around twenty. Crawling back and forth between O'Neill's office and his own, no matter how easy it had seemed at first, quickly became tedious as hell. Even the highly amusing mental image of the rewards he'd reap in the end could only sustain him for so long. Finally he resorted to remembering what O'Neill had done to Arnold, and the anger this stirred up was more than sufficient to keep Siler going until nearly all the tribbles had been moved and the remainder safely penned away for possible future use. The transport case he left, quite intentionally, on top of the desk; he could only hope it wouldn't be buried by the time he needed it to be seen.
As it turned out, the task took nearly fifty round trips through the ventilators. Siler had never been even remotely claustrophobic, but he suspected he was on the verge of it right now. There was nothing he wanted more at the moment than to get as far away from the mountain as humanly possible, preferably to the biggest, emptiest place he could find.
As a matter of fact, just floating in outer space, with or without a suit, was sounding pretty good right about then.
But he couldn't do that—at least not yet, anyway. First he had to finish dealing with the tribble infestation that had just, well, mysteriously appeared out of nowhere in Colonel O'Neill's office.
Arnold would be freed very, very soon now.
-----
Siler made his way to the corridor just outside the commissary and peered warily around the corner. His timing was perfect—SG-1 was just leaving. O'Neill's voice carried clearly. "I've gotta go see Hammond about something. I'll catch up with you later, kids." Siler grinned widely—things couldn't be more perfect. He wondered idly whether General Hammond would have the sense to hide his stapler before O'Neill got there.
He waited until Jackson (who was, at least for now, safe, being the only one who had actually noticed Siler's absence) had also gone his own way, and then pounced swiftly on his target. "Major Carter!"
Carter and Teal'c both stopped and turned around immediately. She gave him a brief nod of greeting, and then frowned at the serious expression he'd forced onto his face. "Is there a problem, Sergeant?"
"Not really, sir." He laughed nervously—the nerves, at least, were genuine. "It's just that I found something rather, um, unusual in Colonel O'Neill's office, and I thought you might like to have a look."
"In that case," Teal'c pointed out, "would it not be better to inform O'Neill himself?"
"Yes, but," Siler improvised, "I heard him say he had to go somewhere else, so I thought you could deal with it more quickly. Sir," he added hastily, having nearly forgotten to maintain at least a semblance of subordination to her.
"Just what kind of 'unusual' thing are we talking about here, anyway?" Carter asked.
He shrugged. "I honestly don't know, sir. That's why I'm asking you." Damn. He hadn't meant to say that last part out loud.
Fortunately, Carter either didn't notice or didn't care, although she still looked rather dubious. "All right, Sergeant. Lead the way."
"I will accompany you, Major Carter," Teal'c said instantly. "Further assistance may be required in eradication of the problem, whatever it may be."
Siler worried about this temporarily as they headed back towards O'Neill's office—he hadn't planned on Teal'c coming along. On second thought, though, it might be a good thing. After all, Teal'c had done his own fair share of bowling over throughout the past six and a half years. Come to think of it, it had been he who had set Siler on fire three weeks ago. (Testing a new safety vest? Yeah, right. Siler knew for a fact that at least half the personnel in the SGC were closet pyros.)
Also, he'd heard that the tribbles had gotten on base in the first place thanks to Teal'c, although he didn't know why.
No, Teal'c's presence wasn't going to be a problem. Not a problem at all.
-----
Siler had made certain to leave the door of the office securely shut but unlocked, so it was easy for him to let Teal'c and Major Carter in when they arrived. Rather than follow them in, though, he quickly shut the door again behind them, swiftly drew a zat from one of his many voluminous pockets, and fired it three times at the electronic lock. The mechanism didn't vaporize at the third shot, as a person would have, but it did fuse together, sealing the door shut.
Siler shoved the weapon back into its pocket and chuckled joyfully. If his luck held, he was going to be having a lot of fun very soon.
