icarus | FIC (sort of): SGA-ish, SG-1-ish. Colony Atlantis

Since my Muse... (Icarus glances over at foul-tempered chained creature in fairy wings)... has been lazy and uncooperative lately, giving me only partial stories... (Muse bares its fangs gleefully)... with incomplete arcs and no direction... (Muse makes a cawing sound that's suspiciously like laughter)

... there will be some odd things in this journal. I openly admit that the story below is difficult to describe. It has the flavour of a vignette, one that's oddly incomplete, yet is 2,700 words long. But I had to rip these pages out to use the rest of the notebook for school, so if I didn't develop this half page of notes it would have been gone, I tell you, gone!

(Muse grooms itself, ignoring Icarus)

I refused to be cowed. I will develop what little I have. And I will write, yes, write!

Title: Colony Atlantis
Fandom: SGA, but with SG-1 sliding in there.
Summary: This is what happens when Weir begins to build her vision of a utopia.

Coloney Atlantis
By Icarus

Once the Wraith were beaten back, Atlantis was open for colonization. That is, for people who had the clearance to even know about the Stargate. Which, fortunately or unfortunately, she wasn't sure, severely limited the possible colonists.

Dr. Elizabeth Weir looked up from her first draft of the Atlantis Constitution. Stained glass windows poured colored light into her office.

The various Earth governments had seen fit to make her the governor of this colony. They, apparently, viewed her as someone who not only had done well in the face of the Wraith threat, but as one who was impartial enough to represent the interests of Earth and Atlantis, instead of just the United States. It was quite a compliment. She had the complete backing of the U.N. and Atlantis was called a territory of Earth.

Elizabeth stared down at the sheaf of papers in front of her. She understood now how the framers of the Constitution must have felt, that pull towards social engineering, hoping to create a utopia through her words alone. She knew it was impossible, that in reality she was only creating her own idea of utopia. But it was the only frame of reference she had, and so far, her sense of what was right and just had served her well. With one stroke of the pen she hoped to do away with many injustices she'd seen on Earth and other worlds.

Elizabeth smiled. She also had to think of the present, and build in reasons for people from the SGC to come here to live, rather than just do research and return. Luckily, sometimes those two aims intersected. Alongside provisions that would make any scientist weep with joy, she happily obliterated the legal basis in Atlantis for Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

~*~*~

In retrospect, she should have been less surprised that among the first wave of applications for Atlantean residency, under "J," was the highly qualified Dr. Daniel Jackson, Ph. D. She signed and stamped that one right away, before he escaped or General O'Neill found out. She braced herself for a fight with the SGC even as she inwardly crowed over their coup. This was exactly the sort of thing she was hoping for.

Then she got to "O," for "O'Neill, Brig. General J.," and stopped.

The name on the form was "Jonathan" but the alternate name was listed as "Jack." There were a lot of skipped questions and parts were illegible. Still, it didn't matter; she'd recognize that scrawl anywhere. She had the General's Bon Voyage note framed in her office.

Wondering what this meant, she signed it, and radioed Sheppard. "John." She heard him grunt in response, obviously busy. "I'd like you to give the grand tour for the next batch of immigrants."

"Can't someone else do that? I really don't have time to mess with a bunch of guests." He said the word like it meant "cockroaches."

"Oh, I think you'll want to do this one," she smiled, and debated whether she should warn him or let him be as shocked as she'd been.

~*~*~

The Stargate whooshed to life. John Sheppard hovered on the edge of the platform, nervously shifting between standing at ease to swinging his arms, looking for all the world like an eager schoolboy.

The General staggered through, a simple Air Force dufflebag slung over his shoulder. His white head glanced back at the wormhole almost accusingly.

"It didn't feel any different," he said in a tone of amazement.

Dr. Jackson emerged beside him, carrying way too much stuff. Four or five straps criss-crossed his shoulders in addition to the laptop and a suitcase in his hand.

"It was a whole galaxy. Shouldn't it have felt different?"

"Huh?" Dr. Jackson said. He dropped his bags almost immediately to tie his shoe. "You went to the galaxy of Aida when we met the Asgard." He glanced up at the general and squinted. "You tell me."

"I don't remember," the General admitted.

He waved to John then, seeming way more relaxed than John had ever seen him. Of course, the fact that he was in BDUs instead of a full dress uniform inspecting a base probably helped. "Hey! You must be the welcoming committee. Sheppard, right?"

"I am, sir," John grinned, rocking back on his heels. Until he remembered his manners. "Can I help you with your bag?"

"Nah." He gave John that familiar tight smile as he hoisted the dufflebag a little higher. "But I think we need a full train of pack mules for Daniel here."

"I got it, I got it…." Dr. Jackson waved him off as he stood. "Oh hey. There's no klaxon. That's what's different."

"Yeah, I noticed that." The General frowned around at the gateroom. "Isn't it kinda dark around here?"

"Well, it's still early Atlantis time. We dim them at night to—" John began.

All the lights abruptly brightened. Startled technicians sat up in their chairs, checking to see what had gone wrong.

"Ah," the General blinked. "That's better. Thanks."

John stared at him in confusion. He hadn't done anything.

"So." The General clapped his hands together. "I hear you've got an ocean. Where's the beach?"

~*~*~

John had never met anyone who had the ATA gene as strong as his own. Watching the General walk through Atlantis waking things up that usually only responded to him… well, it was a little like having your dog suddenly happily play with a stranger. On the one hand it was nice; but on the other hand, you felt like Hey…. That's my dog.

Sheppard shouldn't have been surprised. He knew the General had defended Earth from the chair in Antarctica. But somehow, it just seemed a little unfair.

Though it was funny to see the General jump back from ordinary things. "Whoa!"

"It's all right," John reassured him. "It's, ah, just a fountain."

"Yeah," the General said slowly, edging away from the wall that was now running trails of water all the way down the hallway. "Do they have to have the sprinkler system come on when you just walk by it?"

"It's a little spooky until you get used to it." John smiled.

"Why didn't it do that to Daniel?" The General looked at the walls suspiciously. Sure enough, the fountain shut down as Daniel passed.

"Well now, that's discouraging," Dr. Jackson commented.

"I expect he doesn't have the gene."

"Actually I don't, but sometimes this stuff works for me anyway." He gazed up at the fountain. "We think it's a side effect of having been Ascended." John's eyebrows shot up. "And… Descended again, which is probably why these don't recognize me." He frowned, clearly disappointed. Then he seemed to finally notice John's expression. "It's a long story."

"I bet."

"They kicked him out of heaven. Twice," the General grinned.

"Very funny, Jack."

"He's a very bad boy," the General continued.

"Cut it out, Jack."

~*~*~

"Last stop," John announced, opening the door to the General's spacious one-bedroom suite.

It had a larger than average living room, a little kitchen and extra den. Plus, there was a balcony off the bedroom with a perfect view of the ocean. John considered it a good choice. Boxes of the General's stuff were already lined up against one wall. The General started picking things up and putting them down at random. A wall panel lit at his touch. He blinked and it shut off again.

"One of the best rooms in the house," John said, "if you don't mind a bit of a walk to the transporters."

Dr. Jackson dumped his bags with a tired sigh, and sagged against the door.

General O'Neill watched interestedly, his eyes alight, as John revealed and explained the holographic climate control panels. He didn't seem nervous about this part. Of course, they'd remind any pilot of a heads-up display.

"Huh," he said. "Can you play video games with these?"

"Well no, though—" At that moment another, bluer, hologram dropped down from the ceiling and the lights dimmed. The numbers were in Ancient, but the targets were fairly clear. John forgot his earlier jealousy because, hey, video game! "Cool!"

"I've got the blue… things…" the General said, pulling up a box. John pulled up another one.

Dr. Jackson looked between them helplessly. "I'll be, uh… never mind." He popped open the bathroom door and disappeared.

As John proceeded to totally kick the general's ass, O'Neill leaned over and asked, "Can we get beer out of this thing?"

"I tried that." John pursed his lips, turning his head as he took out two more of the general's blue blobs. "It didn't work."

The General nodded sagely. "Alas. It's never a perfect world."

~*~*~

By the time John had completely slaughtered the general at this new game, he'd worked up the nerve to ask the sixty-four thousand dollar question. Dr. Jackson was opening boxes and unpacking dishes carefully wrapped in newspaper. John stared at the newsprint, evidence of a faraway world.

"So. What brings you to Atlantis?"

John said it lightly, but the entire original expedition team was puzzled and had a million theories, ranging from General O'Neill taking over the base command (Rodney's very disturbing theory), to his looking for a place to retire and surf (Carson's thought, though it was a little hard to imagine the general surfing).

"I confess no one was surprised that Dr. Jackson wanted to come, but there's been a little curiosity about what you're, ah, looking to do in the Pegasus galaxy."

"Oh. I dunno…" General O'Neill said, letting out a breath as he leaned his elbows on his knees. "I thought I'd just… have a look around. See what's out here."

The General's head jerked up, his attention caught by something across the room. "You said there are windows in the bedroom?" He didn't wait for an answer but made a beeline for them.

John stared after him, bemused, and wondered if the General himself knew what he was doing here. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and said to the air, "He's seriously gonna get in my hair, isn't he?"

Dr. Jackson wrinkled his nose and nodded, "Yeah. I'd count on it."

John reached for one of Dr. Jackson's bags. "Can I help you find your quarters? They've gotta be on the chart somewhere."

Dr. Jackson squinted at him with a too-piercing look. "Um." He licked his lips. "These are my quarters, actually." He didn't take his steady eyes off John's face.

John knew it was rude, but nothing could scrape his jaw off the floor. It just kept hanging open. "A General?!"

O'Neill returned, wind-blown and enthusiastic. "Daniel, there's a helluva view out there!"

His eyes shifted quickly from Daniel to John and back again. His shoulders drooped. "You told him."

"What am I supposed to be, a secret?" Dr. Jackson said a little testily.

O'Neill ran a hand over his face with a frustrated gesture. "It's no one's business."

"Um," and John was proud of the fact he had finally managed to close his mouth, "I've gotta tell you that if this is supposed to be private…" John was at a loss for words. "Atlantis is a big place, but it is an island."

"It's all right," O'Neill waved off his warning, though he looked very far from all right. He rubbed his eyes. "I've been in the military a long time, Sheppard. It'll be all over the place in a day."

"Try an hour." John arched his eyebrows. "This is Atlantis, sir. It's like a small town. Only smaller."

~*~*~

General O'Neill and Dr. Jackson successfully made their way to the mess hall, something that John made everyone do on their own, sort of as a little test. If they didn't show up for lunch, he knew they needed a refresher on the transporter system.

They looked… quaint, actually, staring around like tourists as they slowly found the trays and joined the chow line. The General actually sniffed one of the desserts and John heard a distant "what the hell is that?" as Dr. Jackson rolled his eyes in patient embarrassment. Jackson hovered protectively over General O'Neill and John wondered briefly who was top and who was bottom.

He abruptly wiped that thought from his mind. He so didn't want to go there. It was weird being military in Atlantis after Weir instituted her policy. There was a surprisingly high percentage of gay Marines versus the other branches. John would have expected more Navy guys to tell the truth.

The General spotted John and steered towards his table.

Apparently the argument had continued all the way. "Jack, it's another planet. Didn't you think they'd have different food?"

"No…" General O'Neill said petulantly. Though John noticed he'd picked the dessert in question, which was a good sign. Some people left because of the food.

"So how's it going your first day?" John asked, waving to Rodney, whose tray was already overloaded.

"Strange," O'Neill replied with blunt honesty. "Very strange. Glowing steps. Weird… food," he seemed reluctant to use the term. He leaned over the table. "And everyone keeps looking at us."

Dr. Jackson sighed elaborately. "They're not looking at us for any particular reason, Jack, except maybe that we're new. That kind of paranoia just a normal psychological reaction to—"

"Ooo, gay General! Who knew?"

Rodney plunked his tray next to General O'Neill's and was already eating as he sat.

"I bet the Air Force is really pissed at you."

John stared at him, open-mouthed. At the General's glare he spread his hands and mouthed earnestly: I didn't--!

Dr. Jackson finished his sentence. "—of course, I could be wrong."

Rodney stopped chewing for a moment, catching John's impatient look. "Oh, it's okay, Colonel. The General and I go way back to the good ol' days at the SGC, eh?" He grinned.

"McKay," General O'Neill growled. And he did seem to know Rodney. "You know, I forgot you were here." He said it like this would be a good reason to go back to Earth.

Then it hit John. If people knew about the General and Dr. Jackson, they couldn't go back. He was floored by the gamble the two had taken. Suddenly it didn't seem so far-fetched that the crotchety old General and this over-eager academic had been two of the first through the Stargate.

They were insane.

"Does this mean that Colonel Carter is available?" Rodney was saying. "Because I always got the sense that she had the hots for, ah, you know…." He gestured meaningfully with his spoon at the general.

"She's married. And not to you." The general took a bite of his dessert.

"Ah, well, I'll just wait for the inevitable divorce then." Rodney leaned on the table and stared off wistfully into the distance. "I'll bet she's a hellcat."

Weir found their table and was positively beaming.

"Hello, and welcome to Atlantis!" She settled her tray next to John's. "I heard about you two. That's wonderful news, exactly what I wanted for Atlantis: freedoms not found anywhere else," she breathed.

Uh-oh, John thought. Here we go….

"The Althosians don't make any distinction in their wedding customs. It's a beautiful ceremony. I've already officiated at several."

Her smile broadened. John had been learning over the last month how she loved to 'stick it to the man' with dramatic public gestures.

Dr. Jackson cringed and said, "We, uh, were planning to be a little more… low-key."

"A lot more low-key." The General glowered at all of them.

Dr. Beckett found their table. "I heard the good news. I think it's lovely," he said with soft eyes and that soft Scottish burr. "Much better than surfing."

Dr. Jackson gave him a funny look. John quickly explained, "We, uh, had a bet on why the general here was coming to Atlantis."

"Oh."

"Who won?" the general asked them.

Zelenka slipped into the seat beside Dr. Jackson and briefly introduced himself. "Dr. Jackson, we are so glad you have come." He shook Dr. Jackson's hand. "We have number of translations that are beyond hopeless." He turned to the General. "And you have this ATA gene, yes?"

Rodney looked up from his plate. "No he doesn't—-oh. Wait. He does!" His eyes widened and glazed over with the possibilities.

Zelenka nodded briskly, stabbing into his vegetables. Someone had done his homework. "Before you are become too busy we have many, many needs for you. After lunch, my lab, yes? Rodney will show you where."

"I don't have time to play Tour Guide," Rodney complained with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

"You eat and you talk. It is inefficient. I will finish before you."

"Yes but—"

"You are going there anyway!"

Rodney caved, tipping his head. "True."

"Now see," General O'Neill pointed to Zelenka, "this guy I like."

"Trust me, General," Weir smiled. "We can keep you very busy in Atlantis." She included Dr. Jackson in her gaze. "Both of you."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

teaphile.livejournal.com

Oh god, I love it. I can't stop giggling madly.

From:

Students? I like to think of them as "test subjects".....

FIC (sort of): SGA-ish, SG-1-ish. Colony Atlantis

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