Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
It is broken.
I look down at the weapon in my hand and squeeze the trigger again. Nothing. I feel a sense of dread well up in my chest. It is not fair. It should not be broken. Not already. I have only had it a short length of time, barely used it.
I run my fingers over its surface, feeling the smooth cool metal. The light from the lamp by my bed glints off its exterior. It looks brand new. It can not be broken.
I tap it against my hand. Still nothing. I hit it again, harder this time, but not too hard. I would not want to damage it further. It remains unresponsive in my hands.
Frustrated I raise my arm, then stay the motion. A sudden impact with the wall would accomplish nothing but to damage it further.
I feel a glimmer of hope as a burst of inspiration hits me. I should not lament its present state. I should endeavor to change it. And to do that I need tools.
Grasping my weapon I surge to my feet. I know exactly where to find them.
Mere moments later I arrive at my destination. Fortunately the hour is late and the room vacant. I open the drawers and soon find the implements I need. Settling myself on the stool I turn on the lamp and unconsciously hunch over my weapon. I silently curse my suddenly too large fingers as they fumble with the precision screwdriver. In all my travels I find it amazing that basic items like wheels, nails and screws are a constant. Perhaps the basic concept was carried by those first kidnapped humans millennia ago?
Finally the last fastener is free and I can open the weapon, revealing its inner workings. I follow the paths and wires trying to see a pattern. Using the tiny screwdriver as a probe I gingerly explore the device. Wait. There. I feel a smile creep across my face as I bend over further trying to look closer. Yes. That component. It is damaged. I carefully remove it with a pair of tweezers and bring it closer to my face, ignoring how the muscles of my back twinge. This component is not of this world yet it looks similar to items here. Perhaps I can find an equivalent?
Leaving my weapon lying eviscerated on the table I leave the room, careful to lock the door behind me. I am on a hunt. Surely somewhere on this base is what I need.
I traverse the corridors, my eyes searching every corner for a possible donor. Most are far, far too big and several way too small.
I find a couple that might have fit but their connecting configurations were wrong. So I keep looking. Now that I am looking for them I see one everywhere. Thousands of them in every shape size and color.
So very many choices yet none are appropriate.
Reaching the bottom level I stop before the last place I have yet to search. It is the general's office. A place as sacrosanct as the sepulcher of the temple. A place few wish to visit and fewer wish to be summoned to.
I start to turn away then the memory of my precious weapon, lying broken and defenseless spurs me on.
I open the door and turn on the light. I scan the room, searching for a donor. No…there is nothing. Wait. There. In the corner. It could work. I open the covering and study it intently. Yes. I think it just might work.
With a whispered apology I remove the component and hold it carefully in my hand.
I restore the room to its previous state and slip from the room. Mission accomplished. Now I must return to my weapon. Time is running out.
General George Hammond walked into his office and set his briefcase on his desk. He hung up his coat and crossed the room to his coffee maker. He efficiently dumped out yesterday's grounds and refilled the basket with fresh ones. He picked up the half-filled decanter and turned to dump it out in the water fountain out in the hall. A knock on the door startled him, nearly causing him to lose his grip on the fragile glass container.
"Excuse me sir?" Major Sam Carter said, peering cautiously around the doorjamb. "Do you have a moment?"
"What can I do for you major?" Hammond asked, walking past her to the fountain.
"Sir. I don't know if this is anything important. And I'm not trying to be whiney or anything but…"
"What's wrong?" he asked, absently as he poured out the cold coffee and refilled the decanter with fresh water.
"Sir. Someone was in my lab last night. Nothing was taken or really messed with but…I KNOW I put these screwdrivers back in the middle drawer and they were in the top one this morning," she said, holding up the 'evidence' in her hand. "I mean it's no big deal but…there's stuff in there that people shouldn't be fiddling with," she said having horrible thoughts of what happened the last time the colonel had been alone in her lab. The decontamination had taken a week.
"You're telling me we had a security breach last night?" he asked frowning.
"I think so sir," she answered, following him back into his office.
"I'll talk to Castleman," he said pouring the water into the reservoir and flipping on the switch. "Get him to check out the security footage. Check around, see if anyone else had gremlins last night. If we have another spy in our ranks I want him stopped," he ordered absently, flipping the button back and forth. Nothing. Great. Of course of all the mornings for his coffee maker to die it had to be this one.
"General. Is something wrong?" she asked, seeing his frustration grow as the machine refused to work.
"Sir. If it's broken maybe I could take a look at it," she offered.
"No need major. It probably died of natural causes. Let me know if there is any more unauthorized access into your lab," he ordered, putting his jacket back on. Looked like he was doomed to commissary coffee for the near future.
"Yes sir," Sam replied, following him out of his office.
The bustle of people in the hall roused Teal'c from his meditation. He opened his eyes and tried to clear his foggy head. He had remained awake far too long last night and would need to find some time later this afternoon to catch up on his Kel-no-reem. But it had been worth it.
He got to his feet and opened the drawer of the table beside his bed. He pulled out the shiny toy, a gift from Loran. The first birthday present he'd ever been given. He pressed the trigger and smiled as it lit up brightly and made that annoying pleasant warbling noise.
It wasn't broken any more.