[Wowbagger]

LAST TIME ON “STARGATE: ATLANTIS"… TECHNICALLY:
Weir: I’ll have the Aibo and the pie.
Sumner: We make salads on Thursdays.
Sheppard: I’ll have ice.
Teyla: I agree.
Sheppard: Cool.

AND NOW THE CONCLUSION:
Wraith: No, we can’t!
Lots of People: GOK!
Sheppard: Gok? Sounds Klingon.
Wraith: It’s a stand-in for GAK! we came up with for when somebody doesn’t really die, but is as good as dead, because they’re never getting any more screen time. Like when we beam them up. Like your Colonel Sumner here.
Sumner: GUK!
Sheppard: What the...?
Wraith: Don’t ask us.

Meta-Weir: Haha! Look at our title screen this week!
Meta-McKay: Yeah. Looks like somebody split the original two-hour episode in two, and then realized that neither the sequence for Part I or next week would work.
Meta-Wier: So they’re just showing us a random picture of the ocean for a minute thirty-eight while the music plays and the credits roll. Hilarious!
Meta-McKay: You really need to get out more.

McKay: We are seriously going to die here.
Deus Ex Machina: Hi! Just got off the set of “Twilight.” What was it you needed?
Weir: City. Out of the water.
Deus Ex Machina: Right. So you can fix your title sequence.
McKay: No, those are our meta-selves. Mostly right now it’s just concern for the plot; short series if we all die in the first episode.
Deus Ex Machina: I see your point. How will you be paying me?
Weir: Our entire effect budget for the next three months. Equal to one optical shot on Enterprise.

Station Commander’s Log: There goes our standard opening episode moving-the-immobile-station sequence. Back to brooding over my starship envy. And we didn’t even get a cool shot of Atlantis’s reaction control thrusters! Or a wormhole!

Weir: You don’t need a rescue mission. I’m sure Colonel Sumner is all right. I mean, what are the Wraith going to do, torture him?
Sheppard: Yes.
Weir: But... the Geneva Conventions!
Sheppard: Don’t apply to Russian smugglers.
(awkward silence)
Weir: You almost had me emotional there. And then the Disney reference.

Wraith: *growl*
Sumner: Hi, there. Wanna talk to me?
Wraith: No way. You GUKed, and now you scare us.

Weir: Okay, the address is four-two-A-space-nine-B.
Grodin: Got it. *telemetry comes back*
Weir: Whoa! When I said “space,” I was referring to the space bar. Not that kind of space.
Grodin: What? Sorry. I got a little spaced out there.
McKay: This is the scene our Canadian carrier network paid for, isn’t it?

Sheppard: This is Puddlejumper, ready for take-off.
Chase Masterson: (Voiceover) Thank you for flying TrekUnited. Please put out all cigarettes and make sure your life support indicators are all set to green. Have a pleasant flight!
Ford: And this was the scene those TrekUnited people paid for. Skrell, they’re everywhere! First they bother Paramount, then they trash every sci-fi board online, then they’re whining to SciFi about how they don’t have a place for the show... I mean, Phlox those stupid Phloxing Phloxers!
Sheppard: No kidding... say, you know what happened to my pink dancing elephant toy? Could have sworn it was right here...

Sheppard: Dude, this ship is reading my mind. Look. I ask for a pie, I get pie. It’s even Pecan! And... what’s this? ‘Please fund a fifth season of Enterprise?’ Oh, Phlox. Our own ship watches another show in our franchise’s time slot.
Ford: don’t look at thiS now, but A VidEo just appEared on this screeN. iT’s EnteRing PaRts of... I think it’s a Subliminal mEssage of some kind.

Sumner: Hey, is that food? Sweet! I haven’t eaten in hours!
Wraith: Since you’re the big brawny American male leader stereotype, you’re not actually supposed to eat any of this stuff.
Sumner: You have any hot dogs?
Wraith: The food is just there as a metaphor.
Sumner: Okay, how about burgers?
Wraith: IT’S A METAPHOR!
Sumner: I’ll take that as a no on the extra ketchup, then.

Teyla: Hi. We don’t have guards.
Sheppard: Skrell! *starts pacing and mumbling to self*
Teyla: What’s with him?
Ford: You don’t have any guards to fight, and the major is obsessed with proving himself as an action hero. We think it’s a hormonal imbalance.
Sheppard: I’ve got it! I’ll endanger myself, and, as the only person who can fly the Jumper out of here, I’ll put my whole team within an inch of being trapped here forever!
Ford: He’s a lot like General O’Neill... only dumber.

Wraith Female: Your world would make a great combination feeding ground/petting zoo.
Sumner: You’d use Earth as a source of food?!
Wraith Female: Yes. Evil, isn’t it?
Sumner: Aha! So the food isn’t really a metaphor, is it!
Wraith Female: Well... it’s, uh... it’s a simile!
Sumner: Oh, yeah? Well, then where’s your use of ‘like’ or ‘as’?
Wraith Female: I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. Put him in... the Comfy Chair!
Sumner: Ooo, well that’s very comfortable and all, but AHHHHHHH!
Wraith Female: I do tend to forget to mention that its full title is the Comfy Chair of Mind-Sucking Death Touch, but what’s four words between friends?

Wraith Female: For… Cardassia... GAK!
Sheppard: Oh, no! Now we’ll never know how she meant to finish her sentence!
Ford: The Wraith have psychic abilities, right?
Sheppard: Yes…
Ford: Then why don't you just ask one of the FOUR HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN MILLION of them that YOU JUST WOKE UP!

Sheppard: Did you know you can shoot these darts down with small arms fire?
Ford: Thank you, sir. And, just to point out, this sentence brings my total to tie Travis Mayweather’s career line count.
Soldier: It’s still only the first episode.
Ford: And your point is...?

Sheppard: Okay, those ships could catch us in crossfire if we got too close to the Stargate. Looks like we’ll need to decloak, distract the Darts, and zoom away long enough to allow us to double back and jump through the Gate with minimum resistance.
Ford: Since all the Wraith ships are facing in one direction, wouldn’t it be easier to go around the other side of the Gate, dial it, let them fly around, and go through while they’re not looking?
Sheppard: Wait. Are you suggesting that space has 3-dimensions?

Aibo #2: Bark! Bark! Bark! GAK!
Wraith Dart: GAK!
Sheppard: It seems these dog-machines can be turned to our side of the Force. They could be a powerful asset to our cause.
Ford: They will join us or die, my master.

Station Commander’s Log: Well, we opened the Gate up for Lt. Ford and got strafed instead. Sadly, Colonel Sumner did not survive. We’re alone… on the other side of the universe… our most senior officer dead... But we did get Teyla instead of Neelix. So it’s not all bad.

Ford: Hey, dudes, it’s time to PARTAYYYY! Woot!
Weir: I see one universal constant is the presence of alcohol in local cuisine. Anyhow, Sheppard, you need a team. And you need a name.
Sheppard: Not to go with a specific theme or anything, but how about the “Bucks?” Or the “Cubs?” Or the “Niners?”
Weir: Actually, I was thinking of something that reflects your relative importance around here. Hence, “SG-17 and three quarters.” Or maybe, “The Clowns.” In any case, if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.

(Dr. Weir opens the Ancient fridge and swoons at Ludicrous Speed)

THE END

Disclaimer: Atlantis (TM) is the intellectual property of Plato, Inc., (c) Several Hundred Years B.C.


...and that's it. Feedback welcomed. Any input for revisions is welcomed. And then I'll just edit it. Vadda-ving vadda-vang. Episode 2, "Thirty-Eight Minutes", will be published next "Sunday," at which time Paul McGillion will be executed purely for the authors' amusement. (Publishing date subject to forum ban/determination that these fivers cry out to God for reprisal against the author.)