SG1 and FF fic: "Cheyenne - Part Two"

[seldear]

TITLE: Cheyenne (Part Two)
AUTHOR: Sel
SUMMARY: "The nice way involves us not shooting you. The not-so-nice way gets messy. Your crew dies or gets injured, we hold a grudge, yadda-yadda, it's not pretty. You don't want that."

Story details in previous post: Cheyenne - Part One

Cheyenne - Part Two

Simon worked at getting a tourniquet on the bleeding woman. There wasn't much else he could do without the tools of his trade. He didn't even have a basic medkit - the hardware store in which they were taking shelter didn't seem to have one. From the flow of blood, he guessed that she'd been hit in the femoral artery and would need surgery that he couldn't give her now.

Thankfully, she was also unconscious on the makeshift pallet that Wash and the blonde woman had put together to drag her inside when the firing first began.

"You know," Wash said from over by the window where he was keeping an eye on the situation outside and filling up gun cartridges, "I thought today was going to be a quiet day. Get out, take some sun, breathe some air, buy Zoë something slinky and without too much material, go back and head back out again. But, no, now it's all guns and shootouts and how to make your own bombs."

The woman kneeling over a series of glass jars and assorted open packets of bits and pieces looked up at his comment, her eyes large and blue, even in the dim light of the store. "Distraction purposes," she said, matter-of-factly, then turned to Kaylee who was carefully mixing together the bits and pieces that the woman had specified. "Careful. Don't put too much gas in the jars."

"Damage purposes," Wash returned. "Although, I'm not opposed to large quantities of damage in situations like this. Just as long as the damage happens to other people."

"Did you speak with the Captain?" Simon asked, sitting back on his haunches and wiping his forehead. He'd already seen to four wounded - three more shot wounds and a gash on a child of ten who'd been dragged around the corner of a building by her mother and caught her arm on a loose nail. There wasn't much he could do - no antiseptics, no painkillers - nothing.

"Couldn't get him on the radio. Got Book, who said he'd head out and look for them."

"Never mind," said the blonde woman, tipping a few drops of liquid into one of the jars. "We've got cavalry coming."

Simon had listened to the conversation from this end. It was interesting listening to the woman address the person on the other end as 'sir' - reminiscent of Zoë and the Captain. He'd seen the odd look on Wash's face as the blonde communicated with her 'cavalry' and it didn't take much interpretation. He was worried about his wife.

Of course, given that his wife was in trouble more often than not, usually right alongside Mal, Simon could understand Wash being worried about Zoë.

Right now, they had other worries.

There was a clatter from the back door of the store, startling them. Wash had his gun out and pointed at the door before he saw who it was.

People scuttled in and were pointed towards the back room of the hardware store where the owner and a lot of other people were presently cowering. Simon had sent River with them, out of harm's way. She was better after Ariel, more stable, but he still worried.

Especially in situations like these.

The last one to come in was a young man who'd volunteered to go out and fetch some items that Simon and the blonde had wanted.

He lugged in the makeshift sack he'd created from a couple of yards of linen and set it down on the floor. In the depths of the material, things clinked gently. The young man hauled out a bottle and handed it to Simon. "Alcohol - it's nearly rotgut." He began unpacking the other bits and pieces and tossed a box over to the blonde. "I found pins and thread. No string."

"Cotton?"

"I think."

"What were you going to do with them?" Kaylee asked, curious.

"Explosions."

Simon looked up from the wound he'd been about to start cleaning. "River, you should be back in the--"

River wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the blonde, meditatively. "Fire in the soul, boiling up like steam, wanting out. The glass shatters and breaks, spilling pain. Like lightning."

It wasn't as disturbing as some of the stuff she'd said in the past, but it wasn't exactly the kind of thing that Simon wanted outsiders to hear and notice. And the blonde woman was looking at River with a startled expression that wasn't quite recognition but which was closer to it than Simon liked.

He opened his mouth to say something and draw the attention away from his sister.

Wash beat him to it. "Poetic," the pilot noted. "Now can we get past the crazy talk to the part where we do something about the men walking towards this building? Because they're definitely coming this way and they definitely don't look happy." He peeked over the window ledge, then flung himself down. "Wode tìan!"

That was all the warning Simon needed. He lunged for River, hauling her down to the floor a second before a hail of bullets flew through the windows, spattering shards of glass through the single-roomed shop.

Amidst the screams of the people in the back and the sharp sounds of scraping glass, Simon could hear someone bellowing something from outside. The words weren't distinguishable so Simon didn't bother listening.

The blonde raised herself up from the floor and jerked her head at the window. "Jonas, can you hold them off for a bit? Outside walls are brick construction. They'll hold for a couple more rounds yet." Jonas gave her a look - probably implying that she was insane - and she held up one of the glass jars. "I need you to cover for me enough so I have time to throw at least one of these."

"What? Just one?" Wash asked, grabbing for the gun.

"One of this kind will be enough," said the blonde. "The ones your friend was making are smaller."

"Actually, I don't get why we need them at all." At the look she turned on him, Wash shrugged. "I'm a pilot. Not a...bomb-maker."

The woman flashed a quick grin. "It's a hobby," she said, "And I don't see anything to fly around here. Jonas, how many?"

"Seven of them coming," Jonas reported. The muzzle of his gun slipped over the lip of the window and he fired off four shots. "Six now. A dozen more beyond."

Another hail of bullets began spattering across the front of the shop. "What do they want?" Simon asked, keeping River down on the floor. It was more difficult than he liked; she was trying to get away.

"Whatever it is, they're willing to shoot up an entire township to get it," said Wash. He fired off a couple of rounds then ducked again. The thud of bullets smacking into the outside brickwork resounded through the store. "Us, too."

"Goods changed hands," River said, picking herself up from the floor. "Only forgeries. Not the things that were promised. And he promised a pound of flesh."

Simon shushed her. The blonde was watching again - and when she looked at Simon he felt as though he was being measured. To cover the feeling - and distract from River - he asked, "How far away was your 'cavalry' when you spoke with them?"

"Fifteen out," she said briskly as she carefully opened a packet of crystals and dropped a few into the jar. "Can you keep them busy for a few minutes more?"

"Sam..."

She was already directing Kaylee to collect the jars, and River squirmed out from under him. "I'll help!"

He grabbed for her wrist, but she'd already eluded him. "River!"

"Get your patient out to the back room with the others," said the woman. "Make sure they're in the corner farthest from the door - as many of them right up against the pillars of the house, okay?"

Simon stared at her and the jar in her hand. "What does it do?"

Her smile was slight. "A lot of damage."

The understated air with which she spoke said as much - and a whole lot more. Simon knelt down beside his patient, checking the tourniquet. He'd have to let it loose in a few minutes so a little blood could run through the leg. He did it now, keeping a careful eye on River and Kaylee as they co-opted trays in which to carry the jars under the direction of the woman.

"Sam!" Jonas called from the front of the store, "They're approaching!"

She swore pithily. "Hold them back for one more minute!"

"I don't know if I can!"

"Try!" Kaylee and River were directed to Simon. "Help him move the patient and get into the back room. I'm headed out the back," she said.

"Sam..."

One edge of her jacket was flipped back to show the gun in her arm holster. "Trust me. And get away from the windows first chance you get."

"Be careful!"

She probably didn't even hear him as she ran across the floor in a controlled crouch, long legs and an athlete's body. During a break in the firing, she ducked out the back door, closing it quietly behind her.

"So," Wash said as the firing started up again. "Is she usually like that?"

Jonas snorted and fired off another couple of rounds before scrabbling for the refill. "Usually, yeah. Why?"

"Oh, she just reminds me of my wife. She's got that whole 'scary' thing going."

The other man grinned.

Simon tied the tourniquet tight around the woman's leg. "Wash, I'll need help to pull her over to the backroom."

"Right. Will you be okay here?" Wash asked the other man. "I mean, people shooting, bullets everywhere..."

The other man grinned as he pocketed a box of ammunition and crawled over to grab Wash's gun, indicating the woman on the pallet. "Sam said to get away from the windows."

"Oh, yeah. That bomb thing." Wash crouched down by Simon. "Ready?"

In the back room, the air was rank with the crowded scents of nearly two-dozen bodies. Most were already huddled up against the back wall in fear for their lives, those that weren't were asking questions that neither Wash nor Simon could answer.. The woman was laid beneath a sturdy wooden table, still unconscious, and there was time for him to press up beside Kaylee and River, with Wash and Jonas crouching mere feet away.

"So," Wash said as they waited, "when can we expect the explosion to happen?"

Jonas shrugged, even as River lifted her face from Kaylee's shoulder. "Now," she whispered.

A second later the earth trembled and the air rocked with shockwaves as the explosion Sam had promised, happened.

--

It wasn't quite the triumphal rescue that Jack had imagined in his mind.

He should have expected Carter would find something to blow up. Of course, previously, she'd stuck to smaller thing: vehicles, ships, buildings. Half a town was a new order of magnitude for her.

Quietly frantic, they'd reached the township of Big Orden (and if this was Big Orden, then Jack never wanted to see Little Orden) only to discover that the thirty men had been routed by two not-quite-so-sharpshooters and one blonde pilot with a fondness for do-it-yourself explosives made from the ransacked goods of a local hardware store.

Most of the townspeople were even standing.

He glanced over at Reynolds and his crew: the blond man with the painfully colourful t-shirt was hugging the dark-skinned woman with the deadly eyes, while the young mechanic in the grease-spotted overalls looked far too young to be looking after a ship's engines.

The young man who'd turned out to be a doctor had been promptly dragged off by one of the locals to help the actual town doctor with the injured. The guy who reminded Jack of one of his old war-buddies but was quite definitely not Dixon - the beard looked awful - was saying something emphatically to Reynolds, gesturing in Jack's direction with a nasty look in his eye.

He caught a glimpse of T, standing back from the main street, keeping a weather eye on the situation. Jack had little doubt that his friend had the measure of every one of Reynolds' crew, from the mercenary, down to the mechanic.

He knew his friend had the measure of the man who'd been no Shepherd the last time Jack had faced him.

It would be tempting to go over to the now-preacher who was quietly performing the last rites over the dead raiders and demand an explanation. Somehow, Jack wasn't quite up to that. Old habits died hard, he supposed. Although, at least he could send a coded message to Hammond via the Cortex. The old general fretted worse than a mother hen.

Not that Jack and his crew hadn't given him cause enough for fretting.

That was all under the bridge by now.

"Jack."

He barely glanced at the man who paused next to him. "Daniel."

"When were you planning to tell him that his ship's got a land-lock on it?"

Jack glanced at Daniel, noting the disapproval in his crewmate's expression. "Hm. 'Never' comes to mind."

"Jack..."

"Daniel. They're smugglers."

Up went the eyebrows. "So are we."

"No, we're freighters," Jack replied. "The difference is a question of legitimacy." No dodgy jobs. A few investigations on behalf of old Alliance contacts, but Jack and his crew had broken with the Alliance several years ago. The ties that remained were of affection, not of duty.

And Jack preferred it that way.

"Sophistry, actually." Daniel looked out over the wreck of the town. "I wouldn't advise letting them take the drug shipment out, but they haven't been paid for the job."

"So?"

"So they're not going to get into trouble if we just let them go."

"Daniel, we're going to get into trouble if we just let them go. There are rules about these things."

The snort that issued from the man beside him was disbelieving. "I'm sorry? I think I've just turned up in the next 'verse over. Did I hear Jack O'Neill say there are rules to be followed?"

"Very funny, Daniel. No, you won't tell him that his ship's grounded. He'll work it out soon enough when he tries to leave."

"Jack...."

He wasn't in the mood for another lecture from Daniel. And he was missing at least one crewmember considering that he could see Jonas accepting a plate of food off a young woman who was smiling ingratiatingly up at him. He shook his head. Between Jonas and Daniel, the local girls usually managed to find themselves head-over-heels in love with one of them. Sometimes both. "Go get yourself some of what Jonas is eating. I'm going to find Carter."

Behind him, Daniel huffed, but Jack paid him no attention as he began circling the wrecks of the town buildings.

There were more than a few sideways glances at him as he walked and he was careful to nod and be seen to be amiable. No point in giving the locals anything more to worry about than they already had. Half the town in ruins and bad business prospects.

Jack had the nasty feeling that there was a reckoning coming, simply because that was what reckonings did.

He hunted around for Carter in and out of the shops along the main street, figuring that she wouldn't have ventured that far.

He finally found her hunkered down in the dust behind the water pump watching a young woman drip mud through her fingers.

"Sir?" He'd told her to lose the 'sir' more times than he could count. She hadn't yet, claiming habit was hard to break. Privately, Jack wondered if it gave her the space she seemed to need to deal with him and took it as a nickname of sorts, rather like the way he called her 'Carter'.

"Just checking the damage."

"Yes. Sorry about the mess."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to," Jack pointed out. "And if this costs, it's coming out of your pay."

"I get paid?" Carter's mouth curved in a brief smile as Jack glared at her quip. "Actually, sir, it should be coming out of the pay of the Mayor."

Jack frowned at her. "Why?"

"Pound of flesh," said the girl in eerie answer. Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he met hazel eyes that looked confidingly at him. "He kept reality for himself, refusing to share it. And like a miser, it ate him up inside, flesh and bone and blood and soul. Spat him out again into the dust."

When Jack looked at Carter for translation, she was looking at the girl with something like pity. Finding his eyes upon her, she coughed. "The mayor sold some valuables to an offworld dealer for a large amount of money."

"But he cheated the dealer," Jack muttered. "And this was revenge?"

"This was revenge," she said.

He nodded. "And the mayor?"

"Sitting in his parlour, counting out his money." The girl answered.

One eyebrow arched at Carter. "Do I even want to know?"

She shrugged, indicating that she had no more idea than he did. Okay.

"Guess I'd better go hunt him down," he said. "Don't go anywhere, Carter. Once we get this town business sorted out, we're off this ball of rock."

"Yes, sir," Carter said, glancing at the girl. "If you don't mind, I might stay here a little longer."

The girl looked up from the patterns she was drawing in the mud and her eyes fixed on Jack. "Can't go anywhere anyway. Without wings, can't reach the sky at all."

Jack walked away feeling more than a little weirded out by the girl. There was something not exactly right about eyes like that. And her answers weren't completely off the planet, but they weren't phrased right, either.

He shook it off, at least until after the confrontation with the Mayor.

That was the hell of being Alliance reps; you got the dirty work. Reynolds had this smirk on his face that said, quite clearly, 'Better you than me.' But Jack - with some help from Daniel and Jonas - got things mostly sorted out. Mostly.

The Mayor was proving obstinate until Reynolds' mercenary stabbed a bit of meat on the tip of his knife and started eating it with great relish. Then it occurred to him that he'd endangered the friends of some rather dangerous people, and his attempts to retreat and make things right were a thing of great beauty and greater amusement.

They left the townsfolk to it and Jack called in his team. "Right, we're off."

"Jack..."

"Daniel."

Carter eyed them both. "Sir, may I have a word?"

She took him across the street beneath the spreading leaves of a young oak. This end of the town was more or less intact; it was the other end that was mostly flattened. "This had better be about the Mayor. Or the items that you came down here to get."

"It's about Serenity."

That floored him. "Se-what?"

"Serenity. The ship that River and her brother came in on."

Oh. That ship. "The Firefly."

"Right. Sir... You've put the ship on land-lock."

He supposed Daniel must have been talking to her about that. Complaining probably - trying to get Carter to side with him. The man had his sneaky side when he got on one of his hobby-horses. Sometimes Jack was willing to indulge him, sometimes he yanked the other man up short.

"They're smugglers, Carter. You know that." Jack frowned slightly. "If you're going to argue Daniel's point for him, then don't bother. You're going to get the same answer."

Her eyes could be very expressive, but right now, they were flat and hard. "No, sir, I'm not."

That pricked his temper. "And you would know this how?"

She took a deep breath. "I know this because River Tam - the girl I was talking to at the water pump- went to the Academy on Central."

The Academy.

Jack saw red. For one, brief, blinding moment, he couldn't see anything but red. A moment later, he felt a touch on his arm and his vision cleared. Carter was still facing him, her eyes earnest. "They don't need trouble."

No more than we do.

Down the road, Reynolds was looking itchy to leave. Jack took a deep breath. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

That was good enough for him. He'd learned to trust the instincts of all his crew over the years. "Okay."

From the oak tree to Reynolds seemed like a long way to go; maybe it was just the hazel eyes of the girl that fixed on him as he walked towards them, like a tangible weight on his chest.

Then he remembered the shapes the girl had been drawing in the mud and stopped. Angular characters that Jack recognised - and which the girl couldn't have known. Shouldn't have known.

Unless she'd been to the Academy.

Reynolds saw him pause, came out to meet him, standing between Jack and his crew. Protective. Jack recognised that at least.

They were a lot alike in this at least.

They don't need trouble.

"So, lawman," Reynolds said, "what happens now?" There was a wariness in the man's eyes. Jack guessed that the man might not be outgunned in terms of pure numbers, but he was disadvantaged by having at least three non-combatants in his crew - and one wildcard that he knew nothing about - and knew he knew nothing about.

Jack looked him straight in the eye. "You take your crew, go back to your ship and leave the planet. You don't take the cargo you were sent to pick up. Make up a story, lie, whatever it takes. But you don't take it, you just leave."

Reynolds stared. "That's all?"

"That's all."

"Why?"

Jack shrugged. "Paperwork's a bitch," he said, acting casual.

"Uh-huh." Reynolds didn't believe him.

"No, really, it is. Terrible stuff. I'm better off without it. Just as you're better off without the cargo." That was all the warning he'd give the man. "You're free to go, Captain Reynolds. Good luck to you and your crew." Both 'Shepherd Book' and that kid who's been messed with nine ways to hell.

Jack turned on his heel and walked away, collecting his crew with a wave.

"So...?" Jonas fell into step beside Jack.

"We're going back to the ship," Jack told him. "That's all."

The younger man had more discretion than Daniel. He just nodded. "Okay."

They'd make their way slowly back to the ship, wait until the Firefly - what was the name Carter had given her? Oh, Serenity - wait until Serenity had lifted off and made hyper, then report the illegal goods and the raiders to the local Alliance group. His history would get them out of the interrogation that usually followed, and then they'd be off Lenarth and somewhere else.

And so would the Serenity and all souls on board her.

As Jack caught Carter's eye and saw her smile, he felt oddly relieved for a man who'd earlier been chafing at having nothing to do.

It wasn't quite the triumphal rescue he'd planned.

But it felt good anyway.

--

Mal finally found Book in the galley, pottering around behind the stores and keeping an eye on River who was thumbing through a book he'd given her and muttering to herself.

"He knew you."

"Shepherds are well known in the 'verse."

"Now that ain't what I meant and you know it. He knew you. And you knew him."

Book ignored the implicit question, continuing to prepare the food. But Mal waited. He was good at waiting when he had to be. Done it long enough while fighting in the war. You got used to waiting. You got used to waiting for answers.

"Inara once said that we're all running from something, Captain." The old man's words were measured, but he never looked up from his work. "Not all from the same thing, but we're all running."

"See, this is where I got a problem, preacher," Mal said. "See, I know what I'm running from. I don't know what you're running from. And I don't much like being kept in the dark. I like to know what's behind me. Tells me whether I should run faster or stand and fight."

"My secrets are not the kind that catch up with a man," said Book.

"See, now, you can tell me that now, but I don't know for sure. All I know is that I got a ship full of secrets and the people who're keepin' 'em. I don't want to be rude, Shepherd, but I don't want to be turning around one of these days and finding that your secrets have caught up with us. Gets me worried."

The galley was full of silence, even through the turning of River's pages and the small noises of the Shepherd's food preparation. Finally, Book looked up, and the dark eyes in the lined face looked even older and more solemn than usual. "Captain, let me assure you that my secrets are better off left where they are: safely in the grave of who I was. You'll cause more trouble for yourself if you try to dig them out. And we don't want trouble."

It wasn't a threat. Not exactly. But it was a warning, plain and clear.

"No," he said at last. "We don't."

Book just kept preparing his food with slow, patient movements, and eventually, Mal turned away. He couldn't argue with the Shepherd's words, but he could wait. He was still twitchy about these secrets, but he could wait.

He was still twitchy about today - being caught and being let go.

O'Neill and his crew were ex-Alliance. That much was pretty obvious. So, too, had been the man's intention to ground them on Lenarth and leave them there for the Alliance to find.

So why had the man let them go?

He turned to pass River and was surprised when she offered him the book. Interaction with River Tam was one of those rare things that could end with her laughter, or with her drawing a knife on you.

Mal read the cover. "Myths and Legends of the Greeks. See, now I never saw no use in education in the classics. Wasn't much good for a soldier like me--"

"There was a princess of a country," River said solemnly, her eyes never leaving Mal's face, "and she was loved by a god. He gave her the gift of prophecy in exchange for her love, but she reneged on the bargain and was cursed. Whatever she prophesied would never be believed."

Mal had never been into mythology. Real life was difficult enough without adding fairy tales to the mix. "Nice story."

River sobered, her eyes turning sad. "But her people went to war. Thousands upon thousands of men who crashed against the walls of the city and died. So they deceived her people and overcame them, and a prince came to take her away from her home into slavery."

"Okay." Mal put the book down. "I think that's enough Greek legend for today." He shook his head. "It's been a mighty long day and busy to boot."

River caught his wrist. "She was rescued." The girl had a surprisingly strong grip - and if they weren't in morbid and creepifying territory, it was still definitely not normal. "It was a Gate-class ship, out of the Colorado yards. They called her Cheyenne, and sent her free to ride through the 'verse on a worm of light."

Mal had to admit, 'worm of light' sounded very elegant for the ugly angles of O'Neill's ship. But River wasn't finished. Not yet.

Her eyes were large and watchful on Mal's face and he felt the eerie touch of her otherworldliness down his spine as River concluded her tale.

"And the name of the princess was Cassandra."

- fin -

NOTES: It's not exactly a crossover story, more of a cross-breed story. Most simplistically, I could have done SG-1 and SGA, but the SG-1/Firefly idea had been bouncing around in my head for ages and I wanted to give it a go. I hope I did justice to both sets of characters. If I did, then leave a comment to let me know. Please. Feedback is love.

Comments

[adafrog.livejournal.com]

Interesting. I think it was good.
I was a little confused at the end, but I've missed a lot of SG1.
Thanks.

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the feedback!

The SG1 Cassandra reference will best be understood by watching Season One 'Singularity', Season Two 'In The Line Of Duty', and Season Five 'Rite of Passage'. If you haven't seen those, then the ending will be a bit cryptic.

I'm glad you read it, though!

Re: Feedback

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Thank you! The idea first turned up after I saw the Firefly series about a year ago, and everything just...fell into place.

I'm glad I got River's tone right: it was difficult trying to work backwards from what she needed to tell them, and how that would actually come out of River's mouth.

Cassie was a huge bonus to the story. :)

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad it worked!

[azarsuerte.livejournal.com]

Oh WOW. The whole thing was good, but the last line gave me chills. I should've seen it coming, knowing what story River was telling, but I didn't.

Will we get to see any more of the Cheyenne at any point in the future? ;-)

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Thanks for reading and leaving feedback!

Erm. I don't know. I think they broke my brain with this story! I'll probably go watch 'Serenity' and see if it presents other possibilities with the Cheyenne!

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

I don't know why I didn't see this/answer this earlier, but thanks for leaving the feedback! I'm really glad you enjoyed it!

[gate-girl.livejournal.com]

Ooh, very very cool! Sometimes crossovers can feel forced and out of place to me, but this one worked perfectly!

Ever think about doing a BSG/SG crossover? That would be interesting.

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Thought about it? Yes. Definitely yes.

Doing it? A whole lot more difficult.

[gate-girl.livejournal.com]

True. Still, if you ever got those difficulties out the way, I'd read it...

Adama vs. O'Neill. So much fun.

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Don't laugh. You know the Black Jewels idea (that trilogy that you now want to read)? That's just eaten my brain whole with not only Atlantis, but SG-1 (okay, so they were already there), BSG, Farscape, and Firefly...

This was my brain before the plotbunnies took it over...

[gate-girl.livejournal.com]

*pets Sel's brain*

If I could write the evil plotbunnies for you, I would. Unfortunately they won't touch me with a 10 foot pole... so I'm afraid I'll just have to settle for prodding you instead!

*runs away from the incoming missile*

[out-there.livejournal.com]

Very interesting. I think you handled the Firefly characters extremely well. (I can't comment on the SG1 characters. I only know enough to recognise them, not any of the canon backstory.)

Still, the Firefly sections were lovely.

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

Well, thank you for reading it anyway!

It'll make more sense if you've seen the episodes: Singularity (S1), In The Line Of Duty (S2), and Rite Of Passage (S5). Otherwise, the reason for the SG-1 involvement may be a bit obscure.

[sgflutegirl.livejournal.com]

Wow, that was a great story. You incorporated the two 'verses into 1 very well, and it worked great!!

[loriel-eris.livejournal.com]

This was very cool. Very cool indeed. I'm not sure I entirely get the Cassandra story tho, or rather, I don't think I'm translating the River's story quite right, but nonetheless, I really enjoyed this. And you have no idea how much I want to know more - Book's bakground with Jack, the 'strange symbols' that River was drawing, what the Academy did to SG1 (Cassandra/Rite of Passage perhaps?) and definitely how SG1 fit into this crossbreed of Universes. *g*

Thank you. :)

[revelininsanity.livejournal.com]

Great! Thanks for sharing it.

[jedishadowolf.livejournal.com]

This was a very cool merging of the two shows. I like how we got bits and peices of Stargate in the Firefly world. I would love to see more of the Cheyenne and her crew. Great job!

[cofax7]

Oh, that was fun. Great voices and interactions between the two crews.

(Although I suspect that Zoe could wipe the floor with Carter. *g*)

[live-brave.livejournal.com]

I absolutely adored this fic. It was a joy to read. Thank you so much for sharing it. I hope you do more crossovers (or cross-breeds :D) in the future.

[normaltrouble.livejournal.com]

Nifty.

Thanks for the story. A lot.

[seldearslj.livejournal.com]

You're welcome!

(Incidentally, how did you come upon this story so long after I finished it?)

[rigel-7.livejournal.com]

:D Now I knew looking through your fic archive was a great idea!

This was wonderful, a great melding of two 'verses and an ending that was absolutely pitch perfect.

[roga.livejournal.com]

Oh, this was lovely. I loved the characterizations, and the way you mixed the universes together.