Disclaimer: Angel and related characters belong to Joss Whedon. Stargate and spinoffs are the property of MGM.
A/N- Another gem dug out of the depths of my hard drive...
"Sir, you're going to want to take a look at this." Walter Harriman, glorified 'Gate keeper and switchboard operator of the SGC, spoke with the tiniest amounts of awe. He tapped his keyboard a few times, causing the camera to zoom in, and removed all doubt of what he was seeing. PX9-495 was a nice, unpolluted, class M -for those Star Trek fans of which the SGC had an alarmingly large population of- planet. "It's pretty interesting."
The sound of combat boots on the floor announced the arrival of SG1. "Is that what I think it is?" General Jack O'Neill said with a lilted, and hopeful, voice.
"It appears to be an Ori Prior." Teal'c gave his own opinion as Walter typed in a command that switched the view from the MALP to the multiple monitors around the room so he wouldn't have everyone looking over his shoulder. It was a little uncomfortable. "A deceased
"That's what I thought it was." Jack responded with a grimace. Even though he hated the bastards with a fiery passion only surpassed by that which snakes could incite, he couldn't help but hope the guy had been killed before the natives shoved his own staff up his ass. At least it wasn't bulbous end first.
Daniel Jackson blinked at the image, taking note of the stone marker placed at the feet of the corpse. "Several primitive cultures, on Earth and off, have been known to display the bodies of their kills as a warning to intruders... can you go any further? I think I see something behind those trees."
It was Cameron Mitchell who pondered aloud, "What kind of primitive culture can do that to a Prior?"
Walter moved the MALP forward by remote and the screen wobbled as the machine drove over a broken cobblestone path. A quick turn revealed a statue roughly twice the size of the average man, at the foot of which a message had been carved in pig-goa'uld.
Teal'c cracked the smallest of smiles.
"T, buddy? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Jack asked while wondering if it was an inside jaffa joke. He never understood those.
The alien warrior straightened. "It is a dialect of Goa'uld, a form of shorthand used by lesser servants and slaves. I believe the most accurate translation would be... May The Great King-God Bless Us and Rip Out the Spines of Our Enemy."
The collective SG1 tilted their heads as Walter zoomed in on the statue, an imposing armored and armed figure. Swords, spears, axes, and even what resembled a bat'leth were held in tentacle like limbs.
"You know," Samantha commented and the gate began to shut off. "It kinda looks like an Ascended Ancient, if the Ancients wore helms."
"I thought they had a non- interference policy."
want to tell that what to do?"
"... I'll call the President."