Never Say Wombat (Stargate Atlantis)

Originally Posted: Oct. 24th, 2006
Length/Rating: 445 words, PG, Gen
Pairing/Warnings: none
Summary: It’s GT5. In the snow. And what else can I say? I blame my SillyMuse. ^_^

“STARGATE ATLANTIS”, “STARGATE SG-1” and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by MGM TELEVISION and DOUBLE SECRET PRODUCTION in association with GEKKO FILMS and THE SCIFI CHANNEL. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.

“I can’t believe we are going to die in a blizzard, it’s so cliché.” Steven was curled into the smallest ball he could manage, wrapped up like a baked potato in his thermal blanket. And his sleeping bag. And his parka.

“We’re not going to die.” Amy leaned over and poked the fire with one of the longer sticks, coaxing the smoking log back into flame. “We’re fine.”

“Says the person with a broken leg.”

“Fine then, I’m not going to die, you go right ahead.”

“Children.” Trisha, ducked in through the entry flap to the hastily constructed snowcave, a brace of something vaguely rat-like over her shoulder.

“He started it.”

“We’ve got another day or so until the storm breaks, don’t suppose you two can act civil until then?” The lieutenant dumped her meat next to the fire and poked her two sleeping teammates with a boot-toe. “Hey, up and at’em.”

Matt muttered something suitably profane and burrowed deeper into his sleeping bag. Ant just yawned and rolled over so he could look up at Trisha.

“Mmm?” Which was about as much coherence as you could expect from an Ant on a non-combat morning. “Wassatfood?”

“Yeah, more of the rat-things, and I caught one of the weasel-things so I need you to run a tox on it. Think you’re up to that?”

“Mmmratforbreakfast…” Which was followed by more slightly more coherent noises as he redressed inside the sleeping bag, then crawled out to find his medkit.

Trisha poked Matt again and got a slightly more creative stream of cursing. Which translated roughly into: ‘Yes I’m alive and unless we are getting eaten by rabid wombats lemme sleep.’ And, as there was a distinct lack of rabid wombattery, she left him alone.

~*~*~*~*~

Of course, GT5 stubbornly maintained that the very fact that Matt had mentioned the Unholy Wombats was directly to blame for the mad rush of grumpy snow-turtles the next day. A claim the marine strong denied, insisting that it was Steven’s utterance of ‘What else can go wrong?’ approximately half-an-hour before the attack that was the real cause of their injuries. The ensuing debate took up about half of the six-page mission report.

John made a note to start requiring Gate Team 5 to turn in everything in bright orange folders, so that he could easily file them in the ‘SGC shall never hear of this’ cabinet Elizabeth had hidden behind a plant in her office. Although he had to admit the betting pool about what innocent animal-variant would pummel GT5 next was rather amusing. He had his money on Goldfish, but Rodney seemed rather positive the odds were leaning towards Butterflies…

Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

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