G is for Goa'uld
"Snakey, slimy, power-obsessed, spineless snakehead vermin…"
Colonel Jack O'Neill was on a rant. His second in command, Major Sam Carter, was next to him, smiling at her CO's rapidly verbalized, internal monologue.
"The Goa'uld larvae are not necessarily vermin, sir, they could actually be considered…" Sam began, because her inner scientist could not help itself. The Colonel instantly put his hand over her mouth, causing her to fall silent.
"We've been locked in this damned cell for three days. I'm hungry, cranky, and filthy from head to toe, and I still like you, Major" he said in a severe tone, "so don't push it with the scientific mumbo-jumbo." Sam nodded in understanding at his warning, and Jack removed his hand.
"Vermin it is." She acquiesced.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy steps coming toward them on the other side of the door caused them both to straighten and pay attention.
"They're coming for us, Major," Jack mumbled just loudly enough for her to hear him, "let's bust the hell out of this joint."
Sam nodded.
It was time to kill some vermin.
