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Colonel O'Neill: “It's called working too hard. You're going to crash and burn.”
Major Carter: “I really don't have that much else to do, sir.”
Colonel O'Neill: “Well, find something: take up golf; fly a kite; knit something.”
"You're going to WHAT?"
"Well, it was your idea . . . and Sergeant Siler's, of course."
"You're missing the team's night out because of Siler?!"
"And you, sir. You told me to get a life!"
"Repeatedly, but . . . "
"And to knit something." Loathing dripped from Sam's voice. "I couldn't stand knitting even to please my mother, or my best friend in college who knitted topological manifolds - embeddings, really . . . "
"Many logical folds in bed???"
"It is topologically interesting that there are only two ways to take a stitch, but it's so tedious to actually. . . "
"Carter!"
"Although admittedly, not as tedious as golf - no offence, Teal'c,"
"None taken."
"So that left flying a kite, and that's why I'm going to the war. It's only a small one."
"Look, Carter, Colorado has its backward areas, but I would have noticed a war, even a small one."
"Not a Society war, sir. They're very civil."
There was something in Daniel's eye that Jack didn't like as he asked "Chivalrous, even?"
"Exactly," said Sam, and the two rose as if to leave the table.
"Cut the comedy." They sat down. Pinned between two mildly inquiring grey gazes Jack stabbed a bright red glob of Jello with his fork and waved it, wobbling perilously, in the air.
"Where. Are. You. Going. This. Weekend, Carter?"
"You should all come. Teal'c and Daniel's robes would pass for garb, and you're about Siler's size, sir. I'm sure he could lend you something. He can't go with both legs broken; that's why I'm filling in."
Looking vaguely guilty, Jack took a deep breath. "As What?"
"Armourer, of course: 'For want of a nail, . . . "
"The shoe was lost," chanted Daniel, and they ran down the list, losing the battle in unison, "And all for the want of a horseshoe nail." Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
"Although that's the blacksmith, not the armourer," Sam added. The eyebrow lowered and Teal'c nodded.
Seeing Jack at the end of his tether, Daniel said, "Siler belongs to a medieval re-creation group, . . . "
"The Society for Creative Anachronism," Sam stuck in.
"They get together dressed in sort-of-medieval costumes and do medieval things like fighting and feasting and dancing and crafts. They're not very accurate." Professional disapproval momentarily clouded Daniel's face.
"Some are, some aren't," Sam said, "but they all enjoy themselves. It's different from historical battle re-creation groups, broader and more social.
"The thing is, sir, I did buy a kite and took it to the park. I should have brought you along, or roped in the eight-year-old who was making his do loop-the-loops, because knowing the aerodynamic principles didn’t do me a bit of good. I ran it into three trees, a hydro pole, a wading pool and the refreshment stand before I managed to get some altitude, and then it swooped down right in front of someone using a torch and caught fire.
“When I finished putting it out, I looked up and found I was apologising to Sgt. Siler. He was dressed in clothes that wouldn't have been out of place on half the planets we've visited, perfectly at ease with it, and holding a jointed metal glove in his hand. He introduced the glove’s richly-costumed owner as Sir Richard, and told him I was 'a lady he served under the mountain'.
"Sir Richard took me down the hill and showed me the main event location with people all at ease in a wild variety of old-style clothing giving fighting and dancing demonstrations. The fighters used weapons made of rattan and tape and padding, and wore armour ranging from leather-and-carpet to finely-crafted plate suits to protect them from the full-force blows. The society members each seemed to follow their own interests for their participation in various activities.
“It gave me an idea.
"I can weld, but Siler is an artist at it and I asked his advice. While he was helping with my set-up he introduced me to the smiths in the Dragonsspine branch of the S.C.A.- that's Colorado Springs, sir. It's what I've been doing the Thursday nights that we're not off-world. It's surprising for someone who hates knitting, but I find making chain mail very relaxing.
“So how about it? The war's in Bear Creek Park. I'll pay the entry fee and bring the camping gear and after you help me set up you can peacefully explore a new culture right here on Earth.
“You'll enjoy it - and if not, you can always go fishing.”
end
The Society for Creative Anachronism is a real organisation; their website is www.sca.org for those interested in knowing more.