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Okay, only the first chapter. I'll probably wait to finish it before posting the rest, but just a taste of where this is going...
I've actually been asked about novelisation work for a movie so this will be good practice...
Title: SG-Mummy
Someone please come up with a better title for me... I'm drawing a blank
By:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kellifer_fic
Written: forannerbhp, happy belated birthday
Rated: PG
Disclaimer - Don't own, don't sue.
Is: Sam/Jack - Team
Summary: The Mummy - SG-1 style
“For cryin’ out loud!”
Jack O’Neill grabbed a handful of Harry Maybourne’s shirt as they pelted through the ruins of a once great city, intent on keeping themselves alive. Maybourne, terrified, wasn’t helping much and Jack fought the very real temptation to leave the man behind.
Damn morals.
Maybourne skidded on the shifting sand underfoot again, managing to get Jack tangled as well, and they both fell into an undignified heap. Maybourne put both hands on Jack’s belly, pushing himself upwards and running as fast as his short legs would take him.
“Oof!” Jack exclaimed, as he was winded by Maybourne’s move. He rolled sideways and came face to face with about twenty ancient rifles, all inches from his face.
He grinned sheepishly, silently swearing bloody vengeance on Maybourne if the two should ever cross paths again.
“Hiya, fellas,” he greeted.
The last thing he saw was the butt of a rifle as it arced towards his face.
<8>
Samantha Carter smiled at the aging Museum curator across from her, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“We need it,” she said, her tone weedling. The man rubbed his bald pate and let out a resigned sigh.
“And just why do we need it?” he demanded, already looking pallid at the prospect of the large sums of money Sam was asking him to part with.
“If I’m to properly find out the age of some of our more fascinating items, I need the proper equipment,” Sam said, batting her eyelashes. “George, please.”
George Hammond sighed mightily, before flipping the catalogue in front of him, face down on the table. “If your parents, Allah rest their souls, were not mostly responsible for keeping this Museum open through the lean years, I’d have a good mind to fire you. I hired you to catalogue and translate. Not carry out experiments.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Daniel is far better at the translations. I’m good at finding out what these objects do, what their purpose was. Some of this stuff is way beyond anything the Ancient Egyptians should have been able to come up with. Don’t you just find that.-“
“Fascinating, yes I know. Sometimes I think your brain is a curse more than a benefit. I may not have an index system that works but I know that the Scroll of Arcman is exactly six thousand and twelve years old.”
“That’s helpful in finding out-“
“What would be helpful is if you would do the job I pay you for at least some of the time.” George said seriously, standing and collecting the few parchments he had been looking over. “Honestly Samantha, I couldn’t love you more if you were my own daughter, but I need a librarian, not a scientist.”
George bustled out of the room and Sam watched after him go, torn. She knew she should be doing the job he was paying her for, but she got bored easily, and distracted. There were just some things her brain latched onto and didn’t want to let go. She supposed that perhaps George was right.
Her mind was sometimes a curse.
A noise behind her caused Sam to jerk around. The Museum was closed and except for Goerge and herself, supposed to be empty. She stood slowly, making her way through the stacks at the back of the museum. Sometimes kids came in to gawk at the artefacts and lost track of time, finding themselves locked in the museum after hours and too scared of getting in trouble to come out.
At that moment, Sam felt a hand grab her shoulder. She spun into the body behind her, bringing an elbow down sharply and she heard an exhaled curse. She then dropped her weight forward, wrenching the arm that had grabbed her up and over and the rest of the person with it.
She reached blindly beside her and grabbed a small statue of Bastet. She raised it over her head, intending to brain the person below her with it when there was an outraged squawk that she recognised.
“Don’t break that! Do you know what that is?”
Sam sighed and leaned over until she could make out the horrified face of her brother, Daniel. She rapped the statuette on his forehead.
“Ow!” he protested, holding his forehead. “It was only a joke.”
“You scared me half to death,” Sam growled, standing and offering Daniel a hand up. He took it and let her pull him to his feet. She got assailed with the pungent stench of day old whiskey and Sam recoiled, smacking Daniel in the head again.
“Ow! Okay, what was that for?” he snapped, cradling his abused head.
“If you didn’t drink so much, you would have a brilliant career,” Sam sighed, leading Daniel back out of the stacks. He stumbled after her, scowling.
“I’m doing quite well, thankyou,” he grumbled, reaching into his jacket for something. Sam turned on him.
“Oh yes, that was a marvellous display at your last lecture, talking about aliens and how pyramids are their landing platforms.” Sam threw up her hands in exasperation. “How could you have been surprised to have lost your job and all your funding?”
“I was sober for that I’ll have you know. I’ve only been drinking since then because I am disgusted with the ignorance of the intellectual community as a whole.” Daniel let out a tremendous burp and smacked a hand over his mouth, flushing.
“Oh Daniel,” Sam shook her head, rubbing a thumb over the red mark where she’d smacked him with the statuette. “Did I hit you too hard?”
“No, look, we both know that there are some inconsistencies with the objects we find and the level of Ancient Egyptian technology, such that it was. They made some incredible advancements without the apparent benefit of coming to it naturally, almost as if someone taught them.”
“I’m not having this argument with you again.” Sam sank back into her chair at the large wooden desk where her work was laid out and dropped her head into her hands. A moment later Daniel thunked something down on the table in front of her.
“I found something. At least…I think I have. Tell me I’ve found something.”
Sam looked up and narrowed her eyes. Before her was laid out what looked like a gold bracelet with rings. The rings were attached by a delicate chain and when Sam picked it up and turned it over, it looked like the chain was designed to sit across someone’s palm. There was a jewel in the centre of it, unlike anything Sam had ever seen.
“Where did you find this?” she breathed.
“I’m not sure actually,” Daniel confessed. “All I know is I woke up covered in sand and I had this. I know I went out to one of my dig sites but I can’t remember which one.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“I think you found something.”
I've actually been asked about novelisation work for a movie so this will be good practice...
Title: SG-Mummy
Someone please come up with a better title for me... I'm drawing a blank
By:
kellifer_ficWritten: for
annerbhp, happy belated birthdayRated: PG
Disclaimer - Don't own, don't sue.
Is: Sam/Jack - Team
Summary: The Mummy - SG-1 style
“For cryin’ out loud!”
Jack O’Neill grabbed a handful of Harry Maybourne’s shirt as they pelted through the ruins of a once great city, intent on keeping themselves alive. Maybourne, terrified, wasn’t helping much and Jack fought the very real temptation to leave the man behind.
Damn morals.
Maybourne skidded on the shifting sand underfoot again, managing to get Jack tangled as well, and they both fell into an undignified heap. Maybourne put both hands on Jack’s belly, pushing himself upwards and running as fast as his short legs would take him.
“Oof!” Jack exclaimed, as he was winded by Maybourne’s move. He rolled sideways and came face to face with about twenty ancient rifles, all inches from his face.
He grinned sheepishly, silently swearing bloody vengeance on Maybourne if the two should ever cross paths again.
“Hiya, fellas,” he greeted.
The last thing he saw was the butt of a rifle as it arced towards his face.
<8>
Samantha Carter smiled at the aging Museum curator across from her, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“We need it,” she said, her tone weedling. The man rubbed his bald pate and let out a resigned sigh.
“And just why do we need it?” he demanded, already looking pallid at the prospect of the large sums of money Sam was asking him to part with.
“If I’m to properly find out the age of some of our more fascinating items, I need the proper equipment,” Sam said, batting her eyelashes. “George, please.”
George Hammond sighed mightily, before flipping the catalogue in front of him, face down on the table. “If your parents, Allah rest their souls, were not mostly responsible for keeping this Museum open through the lean years, I’d have a good mind to fire you. I hired you to catalogue and translate. Not carry out experiments.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Daniel is far better at the translations. I’m good at finding out what these objects do, what their purpose was. Some of this stuff is way beyond anything the Ancient Egyptians should have been able to come up with. Don’t you just find that.-“
“Fascinating, yes I know. Sometimes I think your brain is a curse more than a benefit. I may not have an index system that works but I know that the Scroll of Arcman is exactly six thousand and twelve years old.”
“That’s helpful in finding out-“
“What would be helpful is if you would do the job I pay you for at least some of the time.” George said seriously, standing and collecting the few parchments he had been looking over. “Honestly Samantha, I couldn’t love you more if you were my own daughter, but I need a librarian, not a scientist.”
George bustled out of the room and Sam watched after him go, torn. She knew she should be doing the job he was paying her for, but she got bored easily, and distracted. There were just some things her brain latched onto and didn’t want to let go. She supposed that perhaps George was right.
Her mind was sometimes a curse.
A noise behind her caused Sam to jerk around. The Museum was closed and except for Goerge and herself, supposed to be empty. She stood slowly, making her way through the stacks at the back of the museum. Sometimes kids came in to gawk at the artefacts and lost track of time, finding themselves locked in the museum after hours and too scared of getting in trouble to come out.
At that moment, Sam felt a hand grab her shoulder. She spun into the body behind her, bringing an elbow down sharply and she heard an exhaled curse. She then dropped her weight forward, wrenching the arm that had grabbed her up and over and the rest of the person with it.
She reached blindly beside her and grabbed a small statue of Bastet. She raised it over her head, intending to brain the person below her with it when there was an outraged squawk that she recognised.
“Don’t break that! Do you know what that is?”
Sam sighed and leaned over until she could make out the horrified face of her brother, Daniel. She rapped the statuette on his forehead.
“Ow!” he protested, holding his forehead. “It was only a joke.”
“You scared me half to death,” Sam growled, standing and offering Daniel a hand up. He took it and let her pull him to his feet. She got assailed with the pungent stench of day old whiskey and Sam recoiled, smacking Daniel in the head again.
“Ow! Okay, what was that for?” he snapped, cradling his abused head.
“If you didn’t drink so much, you would have a brilliant career,” Sam sighed, leading Daniel back out of the stacks. He stumbled after her, scowling.
“I’m doing quite well, thankyou,” he grumbled, reaching into his jacket for something. Sam turned on him.
“Oh yes, that was a marvellous display at your last lecture, talking about aliens and how pyramids are their landing platforms.” Sam threw up her hands in exasperation. “How could you have been surprised to have lost your job and all your funding?”
“I was sober for that I’ll have you know. I’ve only been drinking since then because I am disgusted with the ignorance of the intellectual community as a whole.” Daniel let out a tremendous burp and smacked a hand over his mouth, flushing.
“Oh Daniel,” Sam shook her head, rubbing a thumb over the red mark where she’d smacked him with the statuette. “Did I hit you too hard?”
“No, look, we both know that there are some inconsistencies with the objects we find and the level of Ancient Egyptian technology, such that it was. They made some incredible advancements without the apparent benefit of coming to it naturally, almost as if someone taught them.”
“I’m not having this argument with you again.” Sam sank back into her chair at the large wooden desk where her work was laid out and dropped her head into her hands. A moment later Daniel thunked something down on the table in front of her.
“I found something. At least…I think I have. Tell me I’ve found something.”
Sam looked up and narrowed her eyes. Before her was laid out what looked like a gold bracelet with rings. The rings were attached by a delicate chain and when Sam picked it up and turned it over, it looked like the chain was designed to sit across someone’s palm. There was a jewel in the centre of it, unlike anything Sam had ever seen.
“Where did you find this?” she breathed.
“I’m not sure actually,” Daniel confessed. “All I know is I woke up covered in sand and I had this. I know I went out to one of my dig sites but I can’t remember which one.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“I think you found something.”