Jack dove over the small outcropping of rock, crouching low to take advantage of the limited cover it afforded - though it did nothing to cover the sound of his enemy closing in on him. It had been a long run to escape their clutches and the drawing of breath made his toes ache.

Somehow between the ambush and here he had lost sight of his captain and that made him more than a little nervous. Straining his ears to hear something, anything, beyond the noises if his would-be captor, he sought to find the noises of his companion. His light-footed captain was hard to identify, crunching footfalls entering the range of his hearing only seconds before they too jumped for cover, clutching their weapon tightly to their chest, white fingers wrapped around the handle.

"They're right on our tail."

"I know," Jack breathed, trying to get his racing heart back under control. "We're going to have to make a run for it."

"The ship?"

"Yeah. Do you think you can get it flying again?" Jack knew his limits, and was all too aware that if their ship was to have any hopes of revival it would not be at his hands.


"Are you sure?" Jack asked, receiving a fixed blue stare for his words.

"Are you doubting me?"

Jack grinned. "Never."

The run (the 'all-out, death-defying sprint of life,' as Jack would later describe it) back to their vessel was more than a little frantic, with several near misses when their enemy drew close. Throwing themselves at the foot of the ship, they suffered the agonising wait of the hatch opening, squandering precious seconds they didn't have to waste. Diving through the half opened hatch they ran to where they were of the most use, their actions those of a well-honed machine, long practiced now strongly ingrained.

Standing at the helm, Jack inputted the commands to take them home. As soon as the ship was functioning once more they would be off - he was, after all, the best pilot in the fleet. Hand hovering over the hyperspace initiator, he waited for the call from the aft hold but, when it came, it was filled with far more outrage than satisfaction at a job well done.

Turning with dread, Jack saw the object of his captain's consternation. Clinging to the outside of their hull was their enemy, sucker like hands suctioning to the tetra-hydra-shiny-wall their ship was made of. Glaring through the viewport the alien's eyes glowed and flashed, its teeth threatening to tear them to shreds. Seeing the alien open its mouth wide, Jack levelled his ray gun directly between its eyes, but not before it spoke its horrible message of doom -

"Mum says it's time to come inside and have your bath."

That's it, they were done for. Hitting the deck of their ship, Pilot 1st Class Jack O'Neill and his commander, Captain Mark Carter, writhed in the pain delivered by the acidic breath of this intergalactic monster.

"Mark!" she yelled. "She said now! Stop running away."

Taking one step into the 'ship' Captain Mark awoke from his stupor, jumping up and tossing his ray gun aside. "Sam! What have we told you? No girls allowed in the tree house!"

Fixing him with the indignant stare possessed only by four year olds, Samantha Carter (a girl, and therefore ineligible for enlistment in the boys Galactic Exploration Fleet) merely sniffed. "Like I'd want to play in your smelly old tree house anyway."

Watching her walk off stiffly, Jack rolled his eyes and retrieved his captain's fallen weapon. "Girls," he scoffed.

Mark looked at him, adopting an arched brow. "Our mortal enemies..."

"We must do our duty to rid the galaxy of their evilness..."