Title: Five people who celebrated their 100th mission through the gate
Author: Shenandoah Risu
: PG
Content Flags: none
Spoilers: SGU Season 1
Summary: Just what it says on the lid.
Characters: Rush, Young, Scott, TJ, Eli, Greer, Brody, Curtis, Palmer, Franklin, Spencer, Camile, Vanessa
Author's Notes: Written for the 100th prompt series at sg1_five_things.
Disclaimer:I don't own SGU. I wouldn't know what to do with it. Now, Young... Young I'd know what to do with... ;-)

Five people who celebrated their 100th mission through the gate

Greer was never big on book-keeping. He did whatever paperwork was absolutely necessary, and anything that was required of him, such as mission reports. And while he was never sure how much money was in his account, or how many mateless socks he had in his drawer, he always knew how many missions he'd done.

He thought for his 100th mission he would throw a little party in the mess hall, with a little extra hooch from Brody's still, a friendly poker game, maybe some trivia.

Instead he sat next to a Stargate on some far-out planet on the other end of the universe, with no gate remote, no company and no way to save himself. The Destiny was gone, his team was gone – they thought he had died in the tunnel collapse, and at first he thought so, too, but sheer panic of being in small enclosed spaces lent him near superhuman strength to dig himself out. And it was all for nothing.

He gathered some firewood and hunkered down, waiting. If there was a way Colonel Young would send a rescue team. Rush was doubtlessly working on finding a way to get back to him. They would keep trying until they found him – or his dead body.

"Well, until then – happy one hundredth," he muttered to himself.


Adam Brody came tumbling through the gate, hitting the floor shoulder first, then scrambling to get up on his feet.

"What is this place?" he heard someone ask.

"We're not on Earth," he said, a little out of breath. "This is wherever the 9th chevron leads to, for the Stargate."

More people came flying through the gate, and in the panic all around him he looked for the little things – moving equipment out of the way, pulling people aside, clearing the way. He caught Mathew Scott's eye, and the grateful nod directed at him.

One last person came through, and then the gate shut down and it was dark. He noticed a woman on the floor and moved to help her up and settle her to the side, against a wall. There were panicked shouts – someone was having a seizure – and then he saw TJ waving at him.

He hurried over to her and realized she was trying to stabilize Colonel Young who seemed to be bleeding profusely from a head wound. "Hey, Mr. Brody, I need your help. Are you injured?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Lt. Scott has found some rooms down the hall – I need you to help me move the injured folks out of harm's way."

He nodded. "I can do that."

"Good." And she moved on to the next person.

Brody looked around and spotted Sgt. Curtis staring into space. He grabbed him by the arm, and together they moved Young to one of the nearby rooms. There was a large platform – obviously a bed, and they carefully set him down. Brody checked his pulse – thready, but still there. Just then TJ came by and she sent him on to get the next person.

And somewhere in between moving unconscious or injured people it occurred to him that this was his 100th trip trough the Stargate. Not what he'd imagined, but he was alive and in a lot better shape than most.

It was enough of a celebration for him.


"I'll be damned if this is my last mission," Andrea Palmer sighed with annoyance. "If we don't find the lime we go back to that damn ship, and we're going to suffocate, and I'll be stuck with 99 missions. Well, crap."

Dr. Palmer was a highly experienced geologist and had worked with various SG teams as their chief scientist for years. Geological and mineral surveys were her big passion, and she had a special fondness for naquadah deposits – the substance never ceased to fascinate her, and sniffing out a new vein was like a game of skill to her. She'd found more naquadah than anyone else at the SGC, including Icarus, and having to leave that place irked her.

"Franklin, gimme that remote."

The portly man handed her the device and she quickly scanned the data. She waved Sgt Curtis over.

"We can try this next planet. Can't be much worse than this one. I'm done testing samples."

"You sure?"

"We'll pop over there, and we can always come right back."

"All right, I'm in. I hate this place. Hey, Franklin?"

It was easy to convince the third man. Eli, however, was scared and wanted to stick to the original plan.

"Fine," Palmer said. "We'll radio you once we're through, and then you can join us."

Franklin dialed the next planet, and the wormhole connected with the usual backwash.

"See you later," she smiled. "100, here I come!"

And she stepped through.


There was no morgue aboard the Destiny.

And so Spencer's body remained in one of the storage rooms for several days, the temperature dialed down to near-freezing.

"We need to deal with this issue," Matthew Scott reminded Camile Wray.

"I realize that, Lieutenant, but as far as I know there is no airlock that's available to us."

Scott nodded. "Colonel Young had another idea."

"Oh, he did, didn't he."

"We use the Stargate. We've just dropped out of FTL, so we dial out again and place the body into the energy vortex. Young says that's how the Jaffa and the Tok'ra often do it."

Camile looked stricken. "Fine. Go ahead."

Scott left to find Vanessa James, and together they began to strip the body. It was Vanessa's idea – after all, they might need the clothes, as absurd as it was.

"I'd like to help," came Young's voice from the door. He was holding some bed sheets. "We only have one body bag," he explained. "And there seem to be plenty of sheets."

They worked quietly, using Eli's kino sled to move the body to the gate room. Young said a few words, somber and with barely controlled helpless anger.

Then Volker dialed the gate, and in a split second it was all over.

Young left without another word.

Scott watched him go, and he noticed Vanessa was weeping quietly.

"What," he asked gently.

She wiped her eyes.

"It's his 100th mission through the gate," she said, sadly. "I bet it's not the celebration he had in mind."

Scott nodded. "I guess not. Best we can do is keep remembering him."


Time and space have no meaning for Franklin any more. He's not quite sure what he is, but he doesn't much care, either.

He spends whole days tumbling through Destiny's conduits, exploring entire sections of the ship exposed to the vacuum of space, and he dances on the very tip of the ship during FTL, because that's where the light show is at its best.

He watches the people on board and he still feels a strange affinity for them. He has no intention of making contact with them – their personal worries and pain are too palpable for him, and it's more than he can bear – strong emotions like that mess with his energy balance.

Sometimes, though, he pretends to be Destiny and chats with Dr. Rush via the control consoles, because finally – finally! – he can keep up with the man. And Rush can't tell the difference between Franklin and the ship – yet. Once he does – and it's only a matter of time – it will be a whole lot less fun.

And he really, really enjoys going on missions through the Stargate. He hasn't missed a single one yet, and on his 100th mission he celebrates by coloring the energy vortex a bright lime green.

The crew talk about it for days, but other than that there is nothing unusual about the gate or the planet – they gather food and water and then they leave again.

And Franklin is content.