Title: 9 SGU Drabbles
Author: Shenandoah Risu
: PG-13
Content Flags: none
Spoilers: SPOILERS
Characters: Volker/ Brody, Amanda Perry, TJ, Lisa/ Greer, Rush/ Eli, Varro/ Chloe, Young, Becker/ Vanessa, Camile/ Scott
Word Count: 900
Summary: 9 short character moments among the Destiny crew.
Author's Notes
: Written for the Bingo Fic challenge at the LJ Comm Stargateland.
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. ;-)
Thanks for reading! Feedback = Love. ;-)


9 SGU Drabbles


"To Bee or not to Bee, that is the question," Volker mutters as he sweeps up some of the dead alien sand creatures that Greer torched.

"They weren't even remotely like bees," Brody scoffs.

"My older brother got attacked by a swarm of Africanized honey bees when we were kids, and I'm telling you, he looked just about as bad as Gorman afterwards." Volker shudders with the memory.

"Did he survive?"

"Oh yes, thank goodness. But ever since then I've hated insects. So small, and always trying to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, there's the universe for you," Brody sighs.



She hasn't been able to move since she was a little girl.

Now she's a program, an equation existing in Destiny's memory banks. Infinitely complex, of course, but also so much simpler. For starters, she no longer has to deal with a body that has hovered on the brink of death for decades. And even though, without a body, she can do even less in the physical world than she could as a quadriplegic, Amanda Perry can now move and talk and gesture, and the others can see her, even if she can't see herself.

It makes her smile.



Sometimes, TJ wakes in the middle of the night, and she wonders why she's lying on her stomach. She hasn't been able to do that for a few months now because -… And then it all comes back to her, everything at the same time: the sharp pain, the nausea, the emptiness, the grief, the scream that is still inside of her that has yet to find a way out.

A moment later it feels like a distant memory to her. And she really wanted to see the look on his face, holding their daughter for the first time.



"You know what I miss the most?"

"What's that?"

Lisa props her head up on her hand and looks down at Greer's dark fingers intertwined with her own.

"I had a tree house as a kid. I would spend entire days up there, reading, and at night I watched the planets through my telescope."

"I can build you a tree house, if you really want one. In Hydroponics."


His fingers on her chest remind her of the roots of her tree, reaching out into the sun-drenched soil, anchoring her life, making everything good.

He nods and kisses her.


Your Choice

"Black or white?"

"You are such an old-fashioned traditionalist, you know that? Here we are, a billion light years from any kind of cultural convention, with the only chess set –"

"That I made –" Rush adds.

"- that you made that this part of the universe has ever seen. And you pick black and white. Why not… purple and green? Blue and Yellow? Pink and orange?"

"Eli, for Heaven's sake, it's just a chess set. You want black or white? Your choice."

Eli sighs.

"I want lavender, and olive, and burgundy…"

"White it is. You start."




"…and then you connect this wire to the trigger."

"Ah, and the first electrical impulse will go down this little channel, set off the ignition and ka-boom."

"Exactly," Varro nods.

Chloe grins.


"No, not the groove. The wire."

Chloe laughs out loud.

"Oh, groovy, that's what my dad used to say. It was one of those words of his generation. It means cool, impressive, fantastic."



"Milky. That's what MY dad used to call something he thought was cool, impressive or fantastic."

"Cultural idiosyncrasies?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Your dad was a hippie, too?"

"What's a hippie?"



He's never had a family of his own, apart from the utterly dysfunctional social unit in which he grew up. He always wanted to be a father, and he wanted to be a better father than his own father was to him. He came so close… but after his wife miscarried three times, and after he and TJ lost Carmen, Young has come to accept that the traditional family was never meant for him.

And then he looks at his crew in the mess hall, and suddenly his heart aches with the love he has for all of them.



Becker stares at the bubbling mass on the stove with utter disdain. Try as he might, the latest attempt to produce a dessert with the ubiquitous Purple Sweet Potato just won't go past the rubber tire stage, and nothing seems to change the flavor either.

"Have you tried spiking it?"

Vanessa grins at him over the counter.

"With what?"

James shows him a small flask.

"Brody's infirmary-strength hooch, distilled a dozen times. This stuff will peel your scalp off."

She pops the lid and carefully adds a tiny drop.

Becker stirs and tries a tiny sample.

"Sweet," he laughs.



"I met your son yesterday," Camile says without preamble.

Matthew Scott stares at her in total shock.

"I was visiting home when Sharon and I ran into this lady with her kid at the store… We were in the checkout lane forever, so we struck up a conversation. He's a terrific kid – he reminded me very much of you. He told us how proud he is of his dad."

Scott is struck silent. He's always thought of Camile as a troublemaker, but suddenly he looks at her, and in her smile he sees someone entirely different: a caring friend.