AN: So, the Fork of Doom was a hit. Glad I'm not the only one who
found that funny. :) This isn't an exceptionally long chapter but it
told me to end it where I did and I tend to listen (for better or
worse) to the voices in my head (at least when it comes to writing).
You'll get a new chapter in a day or two so, no worries.
Feedback? Love you...
Standard disclaimers apply. (I ran out of witty disclaimers, sue me,
or, not please.)
**************** Trick-Or-Treat: Chapter Sixteen *****************
Daniel tried not to sulk as he watched SG-3 trot through the wormhole
to Horaka. Really tried not to sulk as the wormhole closed with its
usual flourish behind SG-3, leaving him quite firmly on Earth.
General Hammond had okayed the mission when the MALP video had shown
a desert world remarkably similar to Harukna, with moderate
temperatures and a stable water supply.
The sister planets were actually quite hospitable- the desert
ecosystem was in place more due to a distinct lack of common minerals
in the soil, leading to a significant decrease in plant life. Water
itself was quite adequate and supported a fairly sizeable nomad
population on Harukna.
Horaka had appeared sunny, and virtually deserted. What could the
Scourge of the Goa'uld be? How did an entire world forsake Ra
without being annihilated? The Goa'uld didn't tolerate rebellion
so it had to be something else, something that might lead to the
eventual downfall of the Goa'uld...
Sam put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "They'll be back
tomorrow and you can pick their brains, Daniel."
He sighed deeply. "I know, but I just wish... I just wish I could
Sam flashed a sympathetic smile at him. "I know, but we can't get
all the fun and exciting missions, right? We have to share nice with
the other military branches."
Daniel chuckled but remained unconvinced as his blue eyes rested with
obvious longing at the closed Stargate.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! He had totally, TOTALLY blown the
Initiative. You'd think cause he had been keeping a secret identity
for the entirety of his adult life he'd be a little more careful not
to BLAB it to the freaking government. And that wasn't even
including the chainsaws. He really, REALLY hadn't meant to mention
He just didn't have very many interrogation memories that didn't end
without them. Three years ago he had been caught by that cult who
were after Buffy bits and pieces for a summoning and there had been
chainsaws then... Of course, Buffy and gang had totally kicked ass
before Xander could truly go through a chainsaw interrogation but
that didn't mean he didn't remember the poor guy who had been first.
He still woke up with those screams sometimes.
And then there had been the whole Angelus thing, years ago, with
Giles. It was one of the main reasons Xander made very sure that
Giles only got drunk in select company. Not many people could
stomach hearing about Angelus's playtime. Xander had heard the
story once, on the anniversary of Jenny's death that first year in
Cleveland, and had decided right then or there that Angel would find
himself on the wrong side of Xander's fist, just on general principle,
next time they met.
Though that had been funny, in a not so funny way, to explain to
Buffy several months later...
Unfortunately, when things had started to go the way of interrogation
with Jack, Xander had had panicked flashbacks. Although to be fair,
it had gotten him untied and thrown back into 'his' room. Apparently
Jack O'Neill and friends didn't quite know what to do with a civilian
who had seen things that made their toes curl. But that still didn't
excuse Xander's lapse.
Had they truly been unable to access his files? Would they be kept
from the Initiative? There had been seriously bad fallout and
repercussions for the people who had let all that shit go down.
Xander was grateful for the mess in a way because it had kept the
government off their back for the last seven years- no smart ass
politician wanted to risk their career by pissing off the few people
who still remembered the Initiative debacle.
Yelling Frankenstein in a crowded laboratory and all that jazz.
But if this organization, wherever Xander was, started digging, and
secrecy became a thing of the past, what would that mean for Buffy
and Willow? For the girls? Xander had few illusions about their
privacy to date. He knew they were watched, not closely, but not
much got by the spooks sent to check up on them periodically.
Although he was fervently glad that Willow's particular fall had
been relatively short and un-witnessed.
Initiative or not, if the government had any inkling of her true
power there'd be a whole new set of witch hunts. Not that they'd be
successful witch hunts, but an annoyed Willow was perfectly and
serenely capable of incapacitating an entire country's
infrastructure. She was a veritable Napoleon when the Scoobies
played Risk, but she NEVER lost Russia.
At this rate Xander was hurdling up shit creek without a paddle, or
even a fork...
Sergeant Rick Mailer looked around the apparently abandoned ruins
they had found not far from the Gate. The rest of his team were
busy setting up tents. They had done a brief scout of the perimeter
but there wasn't a whole lot to Horaka. Just sand, water, some old
ruins that wouldn't interest anyone besides Dr. Jackson, and a big
Basically, SG-3 were wasting their time, at least in HIS opinion.
Not that his opinion mattered.
Rick shrugged philosophically as he rifled through his pack. He had
first night watch, then he'd sleep for a few hours, and when they all
woke up they'd tromp back through the Stargate and let SG-1 come and
look for the proverbial needle in the haystack.
Scourge of the Goa'uld his ass.
Rick smashed his shapeless hat onto his head after drawing it from
his pack and shoved his sunglasses back in before strolling to the
edge of the ruins. Boring or not, the planet wasn't bad to look at.
The sunset sure was spectacular, probably because there was so little
on the rolling landscape to obscure the view except for some other
ruins, out in the distance.
He shivered a little as the shadows crept over him, cast by the
falling ruin walls. Damn, it was going to get chilly at night.
Suddenly Rick's eyes narrowed as a flash of brief movement caught
his gaze. What the hell...
Rick fingered his P-90 as he followed the odd flicker of movement
back into the ruins, deeper among the shadows and away from the
campfire they had set up for dinner. "Hello?" he called cautiously.
More movement dance at the edge of his vision and joined the teasing
movement in front of him. Oh hell... Maybe he'd try Dr. Jackson's
famous line. "We're peaceful travelers, from another planet called
Earth. We mean no harm."
Unless you mean us harm and then we'll blast your green alien asses
into the next galaxy...
He had the P-90 up and aimed in a flash as half of the shadows
almost seemed to melt away from the darkest recesses of the ruins
and he found himself surrounded by nearly twenty-five... humans.
They looked human, almost. Ragged, dirty humans, both males and
females of all ages, all except for their faces- their leering,
twisted, misshapen faces. With fangs.
The fangs were new, and not in a good way.
"Not another step closer," he warned stiffly, trying to sound
threatening. Somehow, Rick thought he failed when they all started
laughing. "I'll shoot!"
It suddenly didn't matter that the beings could be human, and
civilian, and totally incapable of understanding English. When
they started to advance on him slowly, fangs extended and gleaming,
it was survival of whoever the hell was holding a gun- mainly, him.
Sergeant Rick Mailer nailed the closest aliens straight on in the
chest with a spray of bullets. They jerked and paused in their
advance and he was gratified, if only slightly, by the blood that
slowly bloomed from the gunshot wounds on exposed skin. Until that
skin began to knit closed, and they all began to laugh again.
He could hear his team shouting in the distance, and the pounding of
their feet as they raced through the sprawling, crumbling ruins,
towards his gunshots. But they wouldn't get there in time. And if
they did, Rick wasn't sure he wanted to see them face off against the
things that were closing in on him laughing, hungry.
He held down the trigger on his P-90 as they swarmed him but the
bullets didn't make a bit of difference, not to any one of them.
Rick Mailer screamed as the useless gun was ripped out of his hands,
and the first pair of those fangs sank into his neck with sickening
Jack and Ferretti stared at each other outside of Xander's room.
Ferretti was still holding the damn fork.
"What... Jesus, Jack, where did you find that kid?"
Jack had found himself wondering that very same thing more and more
often himself. "Cleveland."
The leader of SG-2 looked at the eating utensil he held and whistled,
half in appreciation, half in shock. "Cleveland sure has changed
Jack had found himself thinking that very same thing more and more
often as well. Stupid Ferretti.
"Unauthorized Off-World Activation!"
They both flinched as the intercom blared overhead before taking off
at a dead run towards the elevator, their problematic and enigmatic
guest temporarily forgotten. "We expecting anyone? Who's
Jack concentrated briefly on the question as he took a break from
cursing his knees. Damn cold- made them ache like a mother...
"Carter has a call put in to the Tok'ra. Other than that just SG-3
scouting that crappy little planet Daniel is all hyped up about and
SG-11 checking up on those aliens we met, the ones with the weird
"The ones with horns?"
The two men hit the elevators and Jack tried to lean inconspicuously
against the wall. He REALLY hated being 'aged' sometimes. "No, the
ones with the blue polka dots on their..."
The elevator doors opened and both ran down towards the gateroom.
"Oh yeah, the ones who smell like cheese."
They skidded around a corner, and bounded up the stairs to the
control room. The rest of his team was already assembled, along
with General Hammond. Jack snapped off a brief salute before
turning his attention to the open Stargate. "Any idea who are
would-be visitors are..."
The Tok'ra chose that moment to saunter through the Gate. "Never
mind. Oh damnit, Carter!"
Carter had the grace to at least pretend to be abashed. "Sorry, sir,
you know they just sent whoever was available."
Colonel Jack O'Neill scowled at his 2IC. "The only reason THAT woman
is available is because she's useless..."
Carter, damn her, hid a smile as Hammond growled. "Colonel O'Neill."
He turned to the commander of the SGC, oh and his commander too.
Hammond's own lips quirked but his voice was firm with rebuke,
however insincere, when he said, "Colonel O'Neill, play nice."
Anise strolled serenely down the ramp, a smug smile on her snake
loving face and Jack sighed. Damn Tok'ra...
Ferretti sidled close to him with a shit-eating grin and waved the
fork in front of Jack's face. "Wonder if your nice alien friend
would like to hear about your grand adventure with the Fork of
Jack counted to ten, twice, as a vein pulsed on his forehead.
AN2: Yeah, I know, I gave in and used Anise. *sighs*