I do not own Stargate, I do not own Star Trek. All rights held by the holders.


Spellcheck by Microsoft edge. You get what you pay for.


"Welcome aboard General O'Neill, I'm Counselor Troi, I've been assigned to help you acclimate. As you probably know from when we recovered you, the odd rift has caused a several hundred-year gap between when you entered and when we could tractor your ship out.

The ship we found you on in the temporal loop is fascinating, it's far more advanced than anything in the historical record."

Jon shifted, greatly uncomfortable with the circumstances. Aside from looking like Dr. Markov, whom he had never actually met, The lady was wearing a boobiform and was acting a lot like a snake. Plus, she had two mustard clad goons who were giving him less than friendly stares.

"Look lady, you're really nice, but until I speak with someone at command, I'm not at liberty to disclose any details."

Troi took this in stride, the discomfort and mistrust were rolling off the oddly young General in waves. She decided to move on to different matters.

"We have a few concerns about your medical condition, it appears that you are a clone, but that several deficiencies have been corrected. The work is quite elegant, but does run in to several laws we have against genetic manipulation"

Jon's face was set in stone.

"Once again, I don't mean to be rude, but I can't disclose that information until I've been debriefed."

Troi finished the short walking tour of several shiny hallways and an elevator that didn't sound quite like the mountains in what appeared to be a hotel room.

"These are visitors' quarters; we want you to be comfortable on the trip back to Earth. It's actually quite lucky we encountered you when we did, we don't often return to Earth."

Jon's stomach chose that moment to make itself known with an angry growl.

"I will admit, your ship is nice and shiny. Well-lit even, but these quarters are a little spartan. Could you direct me to the mess hall? I'm quite hungry after... the events I'm not allowed to discuss."

Troi smiled indulgently, and decided to show off a little bit.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, you can just order food over here."

Jon stared at what appeared to be a cubby with a shiny interface to the side of it.

"What, like a vending machine?"

Troi smiled again; it was starting to bug him a little.

"No, we call it a replicator"

Jon mag dumped his P-90 into said replicator and was tackled by the two security guards who hadn't said a word the entire time he'd been on the ship. As per SG-1 tradition, he ended up in the brig in record time.

Jon woke up to a very ugly, very angry man staring at him through a blue wall.

The angry man growled in a somewhat subdued roar, "Counselor Troi, why did you feel it prudent to leave THAT MAN armed?"

Troi had dropped the gentle motions and smiles and actually looked a little pissed. It actually raised Jon's spirits a bit.

"Damnit Worf, his anxiety was off the charts, and I made him even more uncomfortable with my demeanor, something about snakes, or maybe it was Russians. He babbles a LOT. The weapon was supposed to be rendered inert by the transporter."

Jon crossed his arms across his chest and gave them one of HIS smiles, guaranteed to infuriate.

"My nerds are better than your nerds, only thing you're getting out of me now are serial numbers."

Worf turned, and if not for the blue wall, Jon was a little worried that things would have become physical. The giant bellowed "I will NOT let you put the Enterprise at risk any further!"

Jon was shocked and confused. Also, still hungry.

"What, wait, did you say ENTERPRISE? As in James T Kirk?"

Worf widened his eyes -"You know of the great Defiler?"

Jon sat down on the weirdly comfortable bunk. "Yeah no, back to serial numbers."

A lot of Trek / SG-1 crosses wipe out one or the other show to make things mesh up. I figured I'd go part way. We already know Jack 1.0 watched star trek. He loves Star Trek. I'm just pretending it was TOS only, or the follow up show was different enough to be a Wormhole X-treme situation.