Ready to Blow
A drabblish for the word ‘thimblerig’
By Gumnut
26 Jan 2004

What? It was on him?

Immediately fingers grabbed at his jacket. His pack was torn from his shoulders, his weapon taken from his hands.

Goddamnit! Sneaky snakehead bastards.

He had a brief glimpse of Daniel grabbing for his T-Shirt before his head was buried in cloth as the garment was yanked over his head. The cool air of the gateroom hit his back and chest causing him to shiver. Goose pimples raised on his skin.

Found it yet?

No.

Damnit.

Socks, shoes. A sharp look at Carter before he shed his pants as well.

Goddamnit! Where is it?

Sir, we still don’t have it.

Shit, shit, shit!

He reached for the waistband of his boxers.

I got it, I got it! Daniel held it up. A tiny little sphere looking not unlike a shock grenade yet no bigger than a thimble.

Rigged to blow.

Get it out of here now!

The clatter of boots on the ramp followed by the gentle ploop of the tiny bomb being sucked into the event horizon.

The crack of the wormhole disengaging.

The sudden silence of relief.

SG-1 report to the infirmary.

Damn it is cold in here. He shivered wrapping his bare arms around himself.

What?

Well, they are not exactly regulation, sir.

Shut up, Carter.

**********
FIN.