Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and all characters therein are the property of Richard Dean Anderson, Michael Greenberg et al. No money is being made from this story and no infringement of copyright is intended. All original characters are the property of C.D. Stewart.

Summary: This (shortish) story is set time-wise roughly about 150 years after what in real-life would be the end of both real-action series, Stargate: SG-1 and Stargate: Atlantis. I am assuming that Stargate SG-1 will end after ten seasons (2008) and Atlantis also after ten seasons (2015). Rating: T/PG.

QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT

Chapter 3

Georgiana scowled at Daniel Jackson's bland face. "You guys actually plotted this! I don't believe it. That's, that's…"

"Amazingly cunning and astounding in its forethought?" Dr Jackson suggested, though his smile showed he knew they wouldn't have been her first descriptions of SG-1's magnum opus. "Come on, Georgie, think about it. A choice between becoming geriatric fixtures wheeled out on every daytime talk-show for eternity or the opportunity to add to our exotic legend, become this century's version of 'Was there a man behind the grassy knoll?' You can't say you wouldn't have picked Door Number Two as well."

Georgiana vented a loud, exasperated sigh at his innocent little-boy expression, but had no retort because she had to admit he was probably right in his estimation of how she would like to 'go out'. There popped into her head a memory of the Discworld series of books she had loved as a child, by the 20th Century author Terry Pratchett; one of the characters had met the legendary Cohen the Barbarian and spent five full fan-boy minutes raving about 'my granddad told me how you single-handedly slaughtered the hordes of…my granddad…my…granddad…' until the scales of youthful adulation had finally fallen from his now adult eyes and he really looked at the doleful now-you-get-it expression on Cohen's octogenarian face and then at the wizened skin, false teeth, fallen arches, bowed legs, liver spots and wispy white hair.

Being a champion was a great thing, but the wise ascendant to the top of the mountain knew that the best thing to do was retire immediately from the field the instant you achieved crowning glory, for inevitably, though it might take a while, there would always be a supplanter, a new king of the hill. There was nothing more pitiable than watching some celebrity make repeated 'comebacks' in a vain bid to regain former pinnacles of fame.

Daniel looked her squarely in the eyes and Georgiana bit her lip unconsciously as his humour faded to be replaced with a deep sadness. Chemosh's attack had caused a seismic wave of culture shock across the globe. While not uniting all nations instantly in love and understanding, even the most intractable of governments began co-operating with age-old enemies in the face of such incontrovertible proof that there really were worse things out there, especially when it was revealed just how many times that SG-1, 'and the other teams', had nearly died saving the world; more than once had died saving the world.

Continued in Chapter 4…

© 2005, C. D. Stewart