Title: Psycho Factor (5/?)
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=62966 or http://fanfiction.net/~cyclone
Rating: I'm gonna go say PG.
Spoilers: Up to Chosen of BtVS and somewhere in season seven of SG-1.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: This SGC is powerless as Major Carter's sanity hangs in the balance. Sequel to Blind Date.
Author's Note: Okay, this particular 'ship's been battering itself around in my head for a long time now.
* * *
"So, whaddaya know about Doctor Margaret Walsh?" Jack asked, dropping himself into a chair. Colonel Harry Maybourne (retired... sort of) had made a pretty nice home for himself, all things considered.
Maybourne frowned thoughtfully for a moment as he puttered around his rudimentary kitchen, then nodded, "Yeah, I remember her. Civilian researcher. Ran an operation out of California three or four years ago. Didn't last long, though. The whole thing went south and got her killed within a year." He popped open a cabinet and pulled out a crude-looking bottle, "Want a drink?"
"What kind?"
"Beer... I think. Brewed it myself," Maybourne replied as he poured a mug for each of them. "It's actually pretty good."
"Mmm!" Jack nodded appreciatively after taking a sip. "What was the operation on?"
"Hostile sub-terrestrials," Maybourne said, sitting down. "Walsh was a real head-case and kept most of the troops in the dark, so my moles couldn't tell me much, but that was what it was set up for."
"You had moles in your own operation?" Jack muttered in disbelief.
"Not _our_ operation, Jack. Walsh's," Maybourne said patiently. "Kinsey and the other Congress big shots gave her a little too much free reign and swiped NID funds for it, so my superiors and I... took precautions."
"Wait," Jack frowned. "_Kinsey_ backed this?"
Maybourne nodded.
"Okay, so what's a 'sub-terrestrial'?"
"Demons, Jack," Maybourne said, pausing to drain his mug. "Demons."
"For cryin' out loud, Harry, be serious," Jack snapped.
"It's the truth, Jack," Maybourne said, putting his mug down and leaning toward Jack. "Shoot me again if you want, but it won't make any difference."
"All right, fine, be that way," Jack growled.
"What's this all about, Jack?" Maybourne asked, leaning back. "I mean really?"
Jack sighed and slumped back as well, "We... encountered someone who claims to have been a civilian that got involved with Walsh's group."
"Ahhh," Maybourne nodded. "Must be part of the so-called 'Scooby Gang.' Caused a lot of havoc with what they did. Quite a few of us were considering having them assassinated."
"Huh," Jack mused. "If they can piss off the NID, then I guess they can't be _all_ bad."
"Hardly," Maybourne snorted. "They've got a good track record for saving the world, Jack. Only reason they _weren't_ sanctioned."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Right up there with yours, in fact. Only, they never got paid for it."
* * *
Xander opened the door and stepped back in surprise.
"Colonel. How's Sam?"
"Carter's... the same," Jack O'Neill replied. He searched the younger man's eye for deception, but found none. After a moment, he said reluctantly, "You're in."
* * *
"You'll have to leave those here," Jack said, nodding at the knife and two stakes Xander had removed at the security station.
Xander looked at him, a hard look in his eye. "We'll need those, sir. And more besides."
"We have knives in the armory, Harris."
"Not with silver-alloyed blades, sir."
Jack bit back a retort and stared at Harris, wondering if he was joking or just trying to annoy him.
It looked like neither, and somehow, that just annoyed him more, so the colonel just threw his hands up in surrender.
"All right! Fine! Whatever."
* * *
Jack quirked an eyebrow at Xander's hesitant but surprisingly skilled handling of the weapon. It was one of the MP5 intars they'd "acquired" a few years back on... what the hell was that planet called again? Jack wasn't sure he'd caught an actual name, and it was hard to remember the gibberish designations the computer spit out four years ago.
*I swear, it's like they're _trying_ to make it hard to remember,* he griped silently.
"What's with the red crystal, sir?"
"It's called an intar," Jack replied. "It's an alien stunner modeled after a real MP5. Holds lots more shots, but nonlethal. You're the... demon expert, so you'll be taking down this gargle critter."
Xander pressed his lips together.
*Don't trust me, huh?* the younger man thought. *I get that. At least you're letting me have a sidearm.*
* * *
"Whoa!" Xander murmured as he emerged from the stargate. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye... but there was nothing.
He looked around at the deserted landscape.
"Nocturnal, huh?" he mused aloud. "Must be dealing with lesser demons here. How long 'til sunset?"
"We have approximately three hours until nightfall on this planet, AlexanderHarris," Teal'c replied.
Xander nodded as he stepped forward and squinted, searching the horizon for something -- anything -- that might give him a clue as to where the glark guhl kashma'nik might be nesting.
"What's in those ruins over there?" he asked, turning to Dr. Jackson and pointing.
"Ah, heiroglyphs," Daniel said, adjusting his glasses. "They seem to be related to ancient Egyptian, much like..."
"_Daniel_..." came a warning from Jack.
Daniel coughed, "Ahem, yes, of course, Jack. Ahh, the ruins have been long abandoned."
"Did you check under it? Basements, tunnels, that sorta thing?"
"We were... _interrupted_ before we found anything. Why?"
"'Cause the glark guhl kashma'nik likes squatting in man-made structures, preferably underground. C'mon, let's check it out," he said, breaking into a jog.
Jack stared as Daniel and Teal'c followed, annoyed and wondering just when the _hell_ Harris had taken over his command.
"Yes, let's," he said, false cheer in his voice as he, too, followed. His voice dropped as he muttered to himself, "Yeah, don't mind me. I'm not important. I'm just your _commanding_ _officer_ here..."
Jack comforted himself in the knowledge that _Carter_ would never do this. _She_ was Air Force. _She_ knew how the chain of command worked...
* * *
Author's Postscript:
Poor, poor Jack.
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=62966 or http://fanfiction.net/~cyclone
Rating: I'm gonna go say PG.
Spoilers: Up to Chosen of BtVS and somewhere in season seven of SG-1.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: This SGC is powerless as Major Carter's sanity hangs in the balance. Sequel to Blind Date.
Author's Note: Okay, this particular 'ship's been battering itself around in my head for a long time now.
* * *
"So, whaddaya know about Doctor Margaret Walsh?" Jack asked, dropping himself into a chair. Colonel Harry Maybourne (retired... sort of) had made a pretty nice home for himself, all things considered.
Maybourne frowned thoughtfully for a moment as he puttered around his rudimentary kitchen, then nodded, "Yeah, I remember her. Civilian researcher. Ran an operation out of California three or four years ago. Didn't last long, though. The whole thing went south and got her killed within a year." He popped open a cabinet and pulled out a crude-looking bottle, "Want a drink?"
"What kind?"
"Beer... I think. Brewed it myself," Maybourne replied as he poured a mug for each of them. "It's actually pretty good."
"Mmm!" Jack nodded appreciatively after taking a sip. "What was the operation on?"
"Hostile sub-terrestrials," Maybourne said, sitting down. "Walsh was a real head-case and kept most of the troops in the dark, so my moles couldn't tell me much, but that was what it was set up for."
"You had moles in your own operation?" Jack muttered in disbelief.
"Not _our_ operation, Jack. Walsh's," Maybourne said patiently. "Kinsey and the other Congress big shots gave her a little too much free reign and swiped NID funds for it, so my superiors and I... took precautions."
"Wait," Jack frowned. "_Kinsey_ backed this?"
Maybourne nodded.
"Okay, so what's a 'sub-terrestrial'?"
"Demons, Jack," Maybourne said, pausing to drain his mug. "Demons."
"For cryin' out loud, Harry, be serious," Jack snapped.
"It's the truth, Jack," Maybourne said, putting his mug down and leaning toward Jack. "Shoot me again if you want, but it won't make any difference."
"All right, fine, be that way," Jack growled.
"What's this all about, Jack?" Maybourne asked, leaning back. "I mean really?"
Jack sighed and slumped back as well, "We... encountered someone who claims to have been a civilian that got involved with Walsh's group."
"Ahhh," Maybourne nodded. "Must be part of the so-called 'Scooby Gang.' Caused a lot of havoc with what they did. Quite a few of us were considering having them assassinated."
"Huh," Jack mused. "If they can piss off the NID, then I guess they can't be _all_ bad."
"Hardly," Maybourne snorted. "They've got a good track record for saving the world, Jack. Only reason they _weren't_ sanctioned."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Right up there with yours, in fact. Only, they never got paid for it."
* * *
Xander opened the door and stepped back in surprise.
"Colonel. How's Sam?"
"Carter's... the same," Jack O'Neill replied. He searched the younger man's eye for deception, but found none. After a moment, he said reluctantly, "You're in."
* * *
"You'll have to leave those here," Jack said, nodding at the knife and two stakes Xander had removed at the security station.
Xander looked at him, a hard look in his eye. "We'll need those, sir. And more besides."
"We have knives in the armory, Harris."
"Not with silver-alloyed blades, sir."
Jack bit back a retort and stared at Harris, wondering if he was joking or just trying to annoy him.
It looked like neither, and somehow, that just annoyed him more, so the colonel just threw his hands up in surrender.
"All right! Fine! Whatever."
* * *
Jack quirked an eyebrow at Xander's hesitant but surprisingly skilled handling of the weapon. It was one of the MP5 intars they'd "acquired" a few years back on... what the hell was that planet called again? Jack wasn't sure he'd caught an actual name, and it was hard to remember the gibberish designations the computer spit out four years ago.
*I swear, it's like they're _trying_ to make it hard to remember,* he griped silently.
"What's with the red crystal, sir?"
"It's called an intar," Jack replied. "It's an alien stunner modeled after a real MP5. Holds lots more shots, but nonlethal. You're the... demon expert, so you'll be taking down this gargle critter."
Xander pressed his lips together.
*Don't trust me, huh?* the younger man thought. *I get that. At least you're letting me have a sidearm.*
* * *
"Whoa!" Xander murmured as he emerged from the stargate. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye... but there was nothing.
He looked around at the deserted landscape.
"Nocturnal, huh?" he mused aloud. "Must be dealing with lesser demons here. How long 'til sunset?"
"We have approximately three hours until nightfall on this planet, AlexanderHarris," Teal'c replied.
Xander nodded as he stepped forward and squinted, searching the horizon for something -- anything -- that might give him a clue as to where the glark guhl kashma'nik might be nesting.
"What's in those ruins over there?" he asked, turning to Dr. Jackson and pointing.
"Ah, heiroglyphs," Daniel said, adjusting his glasses. "They seem to be related to ancient Egyptian, much like..."
"_Daniel_..." came a warning from Jack.
Daniel coughed, "Ahem, yes, of course, Jack. Ahh, the ruins have been long abandoned."
"Did you check under it? Basements, tunnels, that sorta thing?"
"We were... _interrupted_ before we found anything. Why?"
"'Cause the glark guhl kashma'nik likes squatting in man-made structures, preferably underground. C'mon, let's check it out," he said, breaking into a jog.
Jack stared as Daniel and Teal'c followed, annoyed and wondering just when the _hell_ Harris had taken over his command.
"Yes, let's," he said, false cheer in his voice as he, too, followed. His voice dropped as he muttered to himself, "Yeah, don't mind me. I'm not important. I'm just your _commanding_ _officer_ here..."
Jack comforted himself in the knowledge that _Carter_ would never do this. _She_ was Air Force. _She_ knew how the chain of command worked...
* * *
Author's Postscript:
Poor, poor Jack.