By Chris4Short
I made SG-21's members up…. Use only with my permission. Thanks to my brother who supplied the vastly superior military knowledge to my vastly stupid stories.
P-90: The premiere weapon of choice when defending ones self in ground fighting. Warning: do not disassemble if you can't put it back together. (Note: if you are left with a spring in your hand, chances are do not know how to put it back together.)
Senior Airman Phillip Quen, proud to be of Chinese/American decent, quietly smirked as the native children tried to touch him. The mostly dark population was surprised to see SG-21 come into their village. They were, after all, standing out. After the curious glances, the attempts at communication – the natives seemed to click their conversations – they settled down a bit, but still very interested in the newcomers.
And then Quen came into the village. Everyone clicked and turned to see the man who was a shade different from the others, even so he wore the same olive green outerwear. They all were invited to dinner at the biggest house, they agreed to cautiously eating the food.
But now, Quen very smug at getting all the attention, let his guard down a bit as the children kept pointing to his P-90. Smiling, he put the weapon down on the table, clanking to see if Captain Sara Kimberly was occupied; he was not really supposed to undo his weapon like this, especially around people e they didn't communicate with.
Another smile and Quen had gotten the clip out, safely tucking it in his vest. After five minutes he had the thing into reasonably sized pieces, enough to make the children wide eyed. Honestly Quen was amazed at himself; he was sure he never was able to do that before. Nodding to the excited chatter, he picked up the piece that looked like the butt and began to snap things together.
Quen held the reassembled weapon up to show the small crowd. He noticed the strap was missing, and as he picked it up off the table, two shinny coils came into view.
"Aw, crap," he muttered. Closing his eyes, he cleared his throat; he knew this could be bad. "Captain Kimberly?"
After a moment the Captain came into the room. "Yes, Quen?"
"I think this P-90 came with two extra springs," Quen said innocently.
"That's not good," Kimberly said she took the two springs in her hand. "Give me the weapon, I think I know exactly where these go."
Quen handed the P-90 gingerly across the table. Even as Kimberly grasped the weapon, they both felt it begin to fall apart. Sure enough, it fell into two pieces as Quen pulled back. The once memorized children turned in horror toward Quen, and then broke out into laughter. No one needed that translated.
Despite Quen's pleas to cut the research short right away, Kimberly told him that their directive was to stay for two weeks and gather minerals to discover hw to make grass eatable. Quen, who now could not live down the confidence he once had, hid in the house of their hosts, but still was found by the children who laughed and pointed.
"Ya, ya, never be left with two springs outside the P-90," he muttered as they, a long two weeks later, arrived back at the SGC.