thegrrrl2002 | Challenge Me, Inspire Me! Show me an icon, baby!

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thegrrrl2002

Okay, I'm restless and bored and having a slow day at work. (Apologies to all who would like to be having a slow day at work). So, post a comment to this post using a SGA or SG1 flavored icon, I will write you a ficlet inspired by said icon.

Or, at least, I will try to. I may get totally stumped. And it may take a day or two.

I suppose I should limit this to the first five or six people who post.

ETA: Eeeep! That was quick! Thank you, I think I have my work cut out for me.

Current Mood: restless

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From:

maryavatar.livejournal.com

Bwah ha ha! Damn, I'm tempted to use all my SG icons! Argh... let's see... heh.

From:

thegrrrl2002.livejournal.com

Rodney doesn't miss a beat when the jumper whooshes through the wormhole. "--edible? On what planet do they call this food?"

"Rodney," John says, warningly. He waves at the crew in the control room. Bates gives him an airy salute in return.

"I miss the MREs. How could we have run out of MREs so quickly?"

"Because you ate them all," John growls as he guides the jumper up into the bay. He misses a good turkey sandwich, himself. But he doesn't complain about it constantly, now, does he? No, he carries on, like a good soldier should.

Rodney is not a soldier. "Look at this, it's gray--what do you think, animal or vegetable?" He holds it out to John. "Or some mysterious third form of life that exists only in the Pegasus Galaxy?"

John looks at the grey lump in Rodney's hand and shrugs. "What does it smell like?"

"You actually think I'm going to smell this? As a matter of fact, I can't believe I'm actually touching it." He drops the object back into the bag and stares at his hand. "I think I'm breaking out in a rash."

It has been the longest puddlejumper ride ever. And the longest mission ever.

"Can't we find new trading partners? I don't think these guys are going to work out. I think this is just one big joke for them, all back in the village laughing their heads off at the thought of us trading valuable medicines for this crap."

John already has the jumper door open. He adjusts the controls one more time before rising from this seat. "Rodney, the right drive pod--don't you think those emissions look a little hinky?" He slides the remote into his pocket while pointing to the screen.

"Hinky? What's that, a technical term?" Rodney is already engrossed in the display panel. "Where? They look fine to me--unless you mean this little dip right here, but no, that's within the accepted levels of--John? Where did you--? John? Hey--"

John is out the door, standing in the bay as he watches the door close. He sees Rodney leap out of his chair. It's a slow-moving door, and Rodney can move surprisingly fast. But not fast enough. The door latches shut before he can reach it.

John's radio crackles. "Major? It seems as though--the door--I can't seem to access the controls."

"Gee, Rodney, I must have locked access to the control panel by mistake."

"By mistake?"

"By mistake," John answers.

"Oh please."

Silence.

John leans against the jumper, arms folded against his chest, waiting. He doesn't doubt that Rodney can override the controls, hell, it wouldn't surprise him if Rodney manages to bend time and space to order to turn the jumper inside out to make his escape. Still, he waits.

Finally his radio clicks on again. "This is about that blonde, isn't it."

"A blonde, Rodney? What blonde. I don't remember any blonde. Oh, wait, maybe I do--that one that was sitting in your lap, right?"

"I assure you, John, I have no idea how she got there. And it wasn’t actually my lap, it was more like she was perched on my right thigh…and that isn't making this any better, is it?" he finishes forlornly.

John pushes away from the jumper. "Whoops, look at the time, I'd better get to the mess for dinner. I think they're serving that Athosian stew tonight, aren't they?"

"John--"

"Later, Rodney. I'd better hurry before it's all gone. Don't want to miss out."

He thinks Rodney might have said something in response, but he doesn't hear it, since he removes his radio, pocketing it as he trots down the stairs. Smiling.