A/N (2/17/05): What do you get when you take Lightning, steal her books, and give her Stargate, Star Wars, and MacGyver—in that order? Well, this. Mind, this is sort of the third or fourth installment of a running crossover series I've had going in my head, but it's the first one I wrote down, so it's the first one I'm typing. If y'all enjoy it, I might just type the first ones as well—and the sequel, which involves some psycho mini pirate assassins who want to take over the world.
Oh, by the way, there are a few things to know if you want to understand this story. It's sort of a continuation of my Stargate fanfics, so if you're reading those (er, that one, at the moment), you'll get a sneak peek into what will happen in the future. I'm a Tok'ra (sort of; it's hard to explain). I've sort of taken the place of System Lord Kali. It's a new way of fighting the Goa'uld. When SG-1 kills a Goa'uld, I take over that Goa'uld's Jaffa armies. That way, no mean Goa'ulds rise in power. Other than being a Tok'ra, I'm also a Jedi knight. Yeah, I know, getting Mary-Sue-ish. But it made a great story. ("Where have you been?" "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.") If you stick with the Stargate fanfics, I should get around to typing it eventually. Stargate/Star Wars crossover. I was trying to avoid a MacGyver crossover, but I just couldn't resist. And anyways, I figured people might like it. If I get good reviews, I'll type the other ones. If not, I'll probably continue with this story just for my own pleasure, but might not post it.
I'd had it. I try to take a break from this whole System Lord thing—I mean, being Goddess of Death is wonderful and all, but all the bowing and scraping gets on my nerves after a while, and my slaves were so damned neat—they wouldn't let me have a decent clutter—and look where I end up. Here, on Earth, doing some stupid job for the stupid government. As if they thought they could order me around. Well, they couldn't. I'd only taken the job because there were lives at stake. So I'd gone to the stupid safe house to decode the stupid disc so that the stupid people would be caught and brought to justice before they could kill any more people. Of course, some stupid co-conspirator decided to take matters into his own hands and try to kill me. Not a good idea. I mean, I'm a wonderfully forgiving person and all—my evil twin had tried to kill me once, and I'd set her up as queen of one of my planets—but I was trying to take a vacation, for God's sake.
Anyhoo, I was talking about this guy who tried to kill me. Well, he didn't stand a chance. He did manage to catch me, I'll give him that much, but he was nowhere near Murdoc's expertise, and I'd managed to catch Murdoc. Twice. Even managed to kill him, the second time. Probably. Definitely. No one could survive two blasts from a zat'nikatel. No one. Not even Murdoc. And I'd shot him at least twice. Must have shot him three times, actually. They never found the body.
But this guy who was after my blood. He'd caught me, alright. Trapped me in a cage, in fact. Fired up the bars so I got a shock every time I touched them. Probably thought he was real clever. Me, I thought he needed to be introduced to my old buddy MacGyver. Not that such a thing would be very easy to arrange. MacGyver lived on Earth, but it wasn't in this reality. Oh, plus the MacGyver I knew lived at a different time. He was still alive in twenty whatever it was (I'd lost track of the years on Araynos, and hadn't bothered to ask when I got to Earth), but I traveled back in time to somewhere in the nineteen nineties whenever I went to see him.
Why can't I stay on topic? It reminds me of my old AP Bio class back in high school. We could be talking about the material we were supposed to be learning, and two minutes later the conversation would be about Dracula or picking up naked hitchhikers or the gifted seminar the other day on crack whores.
Anyhoo. This was definitely a situation for MacGyver. Him and his pocketknife. I'd actually taken to carrying around a pocketknife since I met him. It was one of those sparkly blue ones that said "Goddess." Not very useful, at least not in the MacGyver sense, but after I'd sharpened it, the thing had a good blade. I kept it in my boot. Stupid guy had searched me, but not hard enough. Probably never read fantasy when he was a kid, or the first place he'd think to look for weapons would be the boot. That's where fantasy assassins always hide their knives.
I spent about two minutes in that cage, first getting myself electrocuted and then waiting for him to look the other way, before I made my move. Grabbed the knife out of my boot and opened it is what I did. Hefted it a bit. "Hey Stultus," I called. Stupid guy that he was, he looked. I didn't even have to take aim. I threw the knife through the bars and hit him in the eye.
Now don't be getting any ideas about my accuracy. I suck at throwing things. Give me a bow and arrow and I can hit a bull's eye easy, but when it comes to throwing, go find someone else. And it wasn't luck. Although I do tend to be very lucky—how could I not be, since I was born on Friday the 13th—I wasn't going to trust this one to luck. No, I had a secret weapon. It's called the Force. Great thing, the Force. Sit vis vobiscum. May the Force be with you. It was even better than those old energy field devices I used to use. Those I could never really trust not to give psychic powers to the people around me. The Force, on the other hand, worked only for me. I was the only Jedi knight in this galaxy, as far as I knew.
After that it was just a matter of figuring out how to get out of that stupid cage. Not too hard, actually. Use the Force to bend the bars apart and slip through, and I was home free. Only I wasn't, not really. People could still find me, if they wanted. Jack could always talk me into doing anything, if he really wanted me to. I'd have to bail. Go somewhere they couldn't find me. The problem was, they could find me anywhere in the galaxy—and the Asgard could find me in any of the nearby galaxies as well. What I needed was a whole new universe. An entirely different reality. Preferably one that already had a trouble-shooter so I'd be able to take a break.
Hello MacGyver.