Jack's knees started to hurt very bad indeed as he squeezed his way down an extremely tight Asgard-sized Jefferies tube (because, unknown to the SGC, Asgard ships were in fact based on a pair of blueprints for advanced 29th century starships built by Starfleet which had side-skated through the space-time continuum and done a double quantum pirouette on their way into the Stargate universe, earning four 5.9's and two 6.0's from the free-style judges at the 2806 Pan-Dimensional-Olympics).
He winced and moaned and wriggled and finally emerged into the deepest, darkest deck of Thor's vessel, oozing out like the last dregs of toothpaste from a tube that's been kicking around in the bathroom too long because no one can be bothered to find a new full one at 2am when they've had a few too many bacardis and cokes or later that morning when the hangover strikes...
... to find Dr Janet Fraiser propped up against a wall wearing several reams of bubble-wrap.
Jack scrambled to his feet in relief. "Doc, thank god, we need you."
Janet refused to meet his eyes.
"Doc!" Jack said urgently, ripping open her bubble-wrap, "you gotta come quick - Thor's in labour and he needs some lettuce and croutons."
Janet glared at the opposite wall. "I'm not coming," she said through gritted teeth.
"You got to!"
"Do not."
"Why not?"
Janet pouted. "Mandy called me an 'old used up plot line'."