A Terrible, Terrible Coincidence

 

“Siler.”

“Sir.”

Colonel Jack O’Neill looked over the sad pile of grey-tinged scrambled eggs, the limp waffles, and the mass of bacon strips that had somehow welded themselves together in the chafing dishes of the base commissary and firmly decided that Fruit Loops were definitely the way to go.  He grabbed a bowl, smirked knowingly at the offered banana held out by the cafeteria staff, filled a coffee mug, and followed the tall tech sergeant to a nearby table.

A stranger to the SGC might do a double take at his first glance at the two military men dressed in identical blue fatigues sitting across from each other.  Tall, silver-haired, builds lean and lanky, faces both cast into oddly expectant expressions as they picked at their respective breakfasts, eyes carefully averted from meeting the other’s glance.  Twins?  Brothers?

It was early and the morning shift was just shuffling in in twos and threes, yawning, energizing bodies for the long day ahead.  Many nodded to the SGC’s Mr. Fix-it, looking expectantly for the large wrench that usually accompanied the man, others raised eyebrows at the sight of the SGC’s 2IC placidly eating his favorite kids’ cereal with studied casualness, his presence in the cafeteria at that hour a cause for speculation.  No infirmary-restricted teammate, no alarming off-world situation, no political envoys to avoid – shoulders shrugged as airmen and –women threw perplexed looks at one another – and no reason for the leader of SG-1 to be fiddling with his silverware as if he was hiding out in the commissary.

The chatter of voices dropped off when the underground room was plunged into darkness; a moment later orange emergency lighting came on with a clank, playing over the features of the personnel – most standing now, waiting for the base alarm, for a call to arms, for an explanation, eyes fixed on the highest ranking officer in the room who was… calmly sipping the last of the milk from his bowl.

“Sir?”  Major Reynolds directed his questioning glance to the colonel.

Jack smacked his lips and set his bowl back down on the table.  “What?” he barked.

Reynolds’ eyes shifted nervously to the anxious marines to either side.  “Shouldn’t we…”

The crackle of a speaker cut him off.  “Base power failure, repeat, base power failure.  No Stargate activity.  Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter to the control room.  Sgt. Siler, report to the Electrical Room.”

Siler rose to his feet, O’Neill following a moment later.

“Huh.  Wonder what that could be about, Sergeant.”

Siler cleared his throat audibly.  “Me, too, sir.  Probably just a power surge.”

“Indeed,” Jack drawled, one eyebrow climbing.  “Keep me informed,” he shot over his shoulder at the airman as he strode away, “apprised, in the know, acquainted, in the loop, updated…”

Carter was already banging away at the computer console when Jack arrived, a frowning Hammond looking over her shoulder as Harriman did his usual ‘I didn’t touch anything!’ act in the corner.

“Goa’ulds busting down the door again, Major?” he asked, both hands in his pockets.

“I don’t think so, sir,” Carter muttered.

“Tok’ra?  Asgard?” 

“No, sir,” she murmured.

His fingers wiggled manically.  “Glowing squid people?”

“Sir…” she growled.

Hammond shot a smirking glance at his 2IC.  “Any explanation, Major?”

Carter’s tense shoulders sagged.  “It just looks like a standard power surge, sir, originating on Level 18.  No alien interference detected.”

“Geez, don’t sound so disappointed, Carter,” Jack snorted.

“Where on Level 18, Major Carter?” Hammond rolled his eyes.

More buttons were mashed and mouses clicked as Samantha Carter sweated over the keyboard.  “Nothing specific yet, sir, but it looks like the entire level has been affected.”

“Better alert the repair crews, Sgt. Harriman.”

Carter stood and found herself hemmed in against the console by the two superior officers.  “Um, sirs?  Shouldn’t someone go down and check on Jonas?”

“Jonas?” Jack asked, head tilted to one side.

“Mr. Quinn?” Hammond echoed a second later.

“Wasn’t he scheduled to work out with Teal’c this morning, General?”  The colonel turned towards his commanding officer.

“I believe he was, Colonel.”  The general responded to his second.  Both men turned back to face the wide-eyed scientist.

“Maybe you ought to go back to your lab, Carter, check on all those experiments that just got so rudely interrupted.”  Jack suggested with a grin.

“Good idea,” Hammond agreed, smiling.

“Um.  Okay.”  Sam sidled awkwardly, trying to edge past Colonel O’Neill.

“On second thought,” Jack offered, “I’ll come with you.  You might need some help getting everything back in order.”

Sam blinked.  “Your help, Colonel?”

“Good idea,” Hammond agreed, smiling.

Jack gestured towards the open doorway.  “After you, Major.”

*Three Hours Later*

“I knew something was wrong when he didn’t show up to lunch,” Sam murmured, blinking back tears.

Janet Frasier nodded grimly.  “Poor Jonas.”

“It was a fluke accident, Major, Doctor,” Jack sighed, shaking his head back and forth over the blackened body of Jonas Quinn, lying unmoving on the infirmary gurney, leads all showing that no signs of life remained.

“Indeed.”  Teal’c stood staunchly at the foot of the bed.

“What about the Tok’ra, sir?” Sam asked quickly.  “Maybe dad could bring a healing device!”

Jack O’Neill’s eyes widened slightly and he shot a worried glance at the Jaffa.  “Ah…”

“If Jonas Quinn’s accident occurred at the time of the power outage…”

Janet nodded again.  “I’m sure it did, Teal’c.  The burns on his hand tell us that much.”

“Not to mention the exploded flat screen television in his office, ma’am,” Siler offered, wrench in hand.

“…then I am afraid there is nothing the Tok’ra can do for him,” Teal’c continued.

“Well, rats!” Jack commented sighing deeply.

“Indeed.”

Sam sobbed quietly over the slight alien’s body.  “If I’d only checked on him sooner.”

Siler cleared his throat dramatically.  “I take full responsibility, Major.”

Jack jerked sharply.  “Siler?!”

The lanky master sergeant hung his head.  “I warned him that keeping a fish tank so close to his television was a bad idea, sir.  But I didn’t know about the leak.  Or the exposed wires in the remote.  Or the puddle of water on the floor.  Or the electrical surge that happened every time he tuned in to the Weather Channel.  Or the Langerans’ natural tendency to conduct electricity through their bodies.  Or the dismantled circuit breaker that would have cut the power.  Or the…”

“We’ve got it, Siler,” Jack interrupted.  “Just a terrible, terrible coincidence.  Bunch of coincidences.  A terrible, terrible rash of unlikely, unexpected, totally unplanned coincidences.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c intoned solemnly.

“Poor Jonas,” Janet nodded.  “Impervious to radiation, yet so susceptible to electricity.”  She shook her head.  “I wish he’d warned us.”

Jack drew himself up to his full height.  “It is a sad, sad day in the SGC.”  He turned and started to make his way from the infirmary, pausing only to lean down to whisper to the diminutive doctor.  “Better cremate the body, Doc, just to be safe.”

“Indeed,” Janet winked back.

End!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, 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. This is a parody for entertainment purposes only. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted anywhere without the consent of the author.