Top Dog

It had only taken a split-second for the negotiations to go sour. After hours of pointless circling debate, the alien leaped up and drew a knife, throwing herself in Hammond's direction. The guards didn't even have time to draw their guns before thick blood spilled like paint on the briefing room table and carpet.

The alien shrieked in agony as razor-sharp nails latched onto her forearm, stopping the knife from ever reaching its target. "Var�lfur!" she screamed, blood streaming down her arm as Daniel pried the knife from her fingers.

"I think the negotiations are off," Daniel growled.

Hammond's face revealed nothing, but inwardly the attack had shaken him. If Doctor Jackson hadn't reacted so quickly... "Send her back to M7R-145," he ordered. "Then lock it out of the dialing computer."

The guards hesitated in approaching the now-hostile alien, keeping their guns trained on her. "Don't try anything stupid," one of them advised. She spat in his direction, and was rewarded with the promise of fangs at her neck.

"Do anything else to insult my packmates, and you will never make it home," Daniel said, his voice barely a whisper, carrying the promise that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her if she so much as sneezed. She hissed, but said nothing.

Hammond watched silently as Daniel "escorted" their visitor to the Gate. Not for the first time, he was thankful that the linguist's werewolf instincts recognized him as top dog. He wasn't sure he'd survive the challenge.