*smiles evilly*

If I learned one thing this Christmas, it's that deodorant can be used as an air freshener.

If I learned one thing from writing Hot Pink, it was how to spell lieutenant.

If I learned one thing from Imperial Trainee Theodore Houndini (Anderson), it was that there's always someone out there that's less sanitary than you as long as you take showers.

If I learned one thing from Star Wars, it's that there's always more bad guys than good guys.

If I learned one thing from !Hero, it's that even though the bad guys talk all high and mighty, they run away from the good guys, therefore letting them win.

If I learned one thing from Stargate, it's that the bad guys seldom run away, especially if they wear metal kilts or have glowing eyes.

If I learned one thing from slow computers, it's that the slower they are, the worse things are about to become.

If I learned one thing from long bus rides, it's that CD players and sleep are good things.

If I learned one thing from strange, acknowledging e-mails, it's that pointless activities make you think.

If I learned one thing from thinking, it's that... don't think.

If I learned one thing from my "advanced" math class, it's that, no matter what anything observes from test scores, I still can't do math.

If I learned one thing from typing, it's that I usually can't.

If I learned one thing from graduating fourth grade, it's that I'm good with logic... after eight years of nine hours of sleep.

If I learned one thing from gym, it's that the guys are (how many are there?) Idiot, Moron, Nerfherder, Baka, Beranmee, Gormless... Oh, I guess I forgot their names over break.

If I learned one thing from study hall, it's that you should ALWAYS and FOREVER carry $1.50 with you for Hersheys chocolate milk shakes.

If I learned one thing from biology, it's that it doesn't suck--it blows! (Quote from the teacher!)

If I learned one thing from English, it's that it's only vaguely interesting if you like to write.

If I learned one thing from German, it's that the rest of the guys are Gormless the Zweimal, Bermanmee the Dreiundzwanzigmal, Baka the Zweihundertmal, and Nerfherder the Achtzehnmal.

In case anyone's interested, this is a sad attempt at publicity; more people visit any given story of mine on fanfiction daily than have ever come to this site. So I suppose this'll be my offical record of all the stories I have going right now. I just need to remember: Late December... Christmas Eve Eve!

1. Announcement, the
2. Anti Jedi
3. Binksbabe in Stargate
4. Cat Ears?
5. Circle of Forgotten Gods
6. Egeria’s Hope
7. Father, Where Art Thou
8. International Halloween Gift Shop
9. Last Pages, the
10. Leap to SG-1, the
11. Lotaur, the
12. Reeses
13. Sarah Back Home
14. Sarah the Freshman
15. Sarah/Vinnet/Orthodontist
16. SG MIB
17. Tell me this is an alternate universe!
18. Terran Jedi
19. To Be
20. Torture

Twenty so far and more to come, that’s for sure!

"The last pages are yours, Sam." Frodo's last words to him continuously rang in his ears night and day, the phase indifferent to the occasion. He remembered it when with his family and when he went about his daily business and while he entertained guests. He longed to fill those last pages, the empty space left for his own adventures. He'd read through Bilbo's There And Back Again and Frodo's The Lord of the Rings, and his normal life as a hobbit, with all the entertaining gossip and news of the Shire, really didn't stack up.

Maybe it's time something peaceful be written in that book, he'd thought to himself, but in his heart, he knew he just couldn't add anything so normal to such extraordinary literature. Even his children's mischievous adventures about Bag End couldn't stack up to his trip with Frodo to Mount Doom. If anyone knew that, it was Sam.

Still, he often wondered how to fill those pages that had been entrusted to him.

***

Sam stood at the gate to his yard, on the brink of deciding whether to leave or not. He knew that his wife watched him through the front window, and he knew that she did not wish him to go. Nevertheless, his restlessness would not leave him, even after the many years since he'd returned to the Shire for good.

He took a deep breath, trying to remember what Mr. Bilbo used to say. Something about the world being dangerous with that first step away from home. He lifted his foot and took that first step, urged on by something he could not explain. He didn't exactly know where he was going, but then again, did he need to?

He wondered away, assuring himself that he'd made it clear to Rose that he'd return safe and sound. He just had to. But just as much as he had to return, he had to leave. All through the Shire, he was aware of the shifting traffic around him and the wind in the trees, all of which seemed slightly... different. As if something wasn't quite right.

He made his way to Bree, where he stayed the night at the same inn that he'd stayed in so long ago when Gandalf had sent him with Frodo. In fact, this was the very place where they'd met Aragorn, though they'd known him as Strider.

He quickly settled into the hobbit-sized room after a cup of ale. Just as he began to drift off to sleep, a light, almost hesitant knock sounded on the door. He leapt up and grappled for a sword he didn't have. Another knock, even lighter this time, sounded, accompanied by slight whimpering. Sam cautiously opened the door to reveal two young hobbits. He flung the door wider and dragged the two in before whipping the door shut.

"Elanor, Frodo, what are you doing here?" he asked, disapproval heavy in his voice. "It's not safe."

His oldest daughter looked up with her bright blue eyes. "You were gonna leave. Alone."

"So we thought we'd come and keep ya company," added his son.

"Besides, we know all about what's out here," she said.

Frodo glared at her and nudged her with his elbow.

"So you read it." Sam looked from Elanor's gleaming face to Frodo's troubled one. "I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later." Both of their faces brightened. "Get to bed now; we've got a long ways to go tomorrow." Then his face creased as he remembered something. "Your mother's going to be worried sick when she finds you missing."

Elanor smiled. "Nope. We told her. Well, we told Pippin to tell her, but she knows."

He winced then hurried the two off to bed, glad that Ringwraiths weren't going to be chasing them now.

***

His bed shook. He watched with wide eyes as the Ringwraiths jabbed their swords into the beds that he and Frodo were supposed to be sleeping in. It shook harder and harder until Sam finally sat straight up, convinced that if he opened his eyes, he'd stare into the ghostly forms of all nine Ringwraiths.

So he sat up with his eyes shut, finally realizing that he heard screams of "Wake up, Dad!" "Are you ever going to get up?" "C'mon, let's go!" He cracked his eyes open to see the forms of two of his children, who he was sometimes convinced were the reincarnation of the Ringwraiths. Now, however, he couldn't be happier to see them. That's the last time I ever stay somewhere where we stayed then.

Seeing the troubled look on her father's face, Elanor asked, "What's wrong, Dad?"

When he didn't answer, it clicked in Frodo's mind. "Bad memories. The last time you were here, you almost got killed."

"The first time," Sam added.

After a large, hobbit-sized breakfast, they left, still following the same road Sam had taken with Frodo. Only this time, they could actually stay on the road. Since the two had read The Lord of the Rings, he occasionally pointed out where this or that had happened.

***

"These coordinates are unlike any we've ever visited before," Sam commented.

"Oh, really?" her CO replied, moving to look over her shoulder at the computer screen.

Daniel nodded. "There's only one symbol's difference from Earth's, meaning that it uses many of the same points of reference. Abydos had two differences, so this place is closer than Abydos."

"But as far as we know, Abydos is the closest inhabitable planet," the major explained.

"Is this place inhabitable?" Jack asked, glancing from the major and her computer screen to the Stargate and back.

"It is indeed, O'Neill," Teal'c answered, beating the others to it.

"Then we leave in five." After receiving a nod from most of the members of his team, he walked out of the room to get ready for the mission. Teal'c followed soon after, but Daniel and Sam stayed behind.

"The MALP showed some ruins, but they didn't look like they'd been abandoned for long," the scientist said.

A large smile grew on the archeologist's face. "With any luck, someone might come back while we're there."

She nodded then both headed off to get ready.

***

Several days since they'd left Bree, they finally arrived at the elvin city where he had last seen Mr. Frodo Baggins, where the elves had left to sail west. Sam stood staring into the picture-perfect view of the small port surrounded by tall, majestic mountains that had sheltered the elvin ships before they left. His children stood behind him, wondering what he was looking at.

Elanor leaned over to her brother. "Did you see that cart-ish thing that didn't quite look elvish?"

Frodo nodded. "Let's go check it out!

The two wondered back to where they had seen a strange object. It appeared to be a box on wheels with a long, bent horn on top. Beside the horn was a bowl with a stick in the middle. Many other things were built onto the cart, and the hobbits could not make heads or tails of any of them.

Suddenly, they heard a strange whoosh and one of the things left by the elves burst foward with a blue splash. After the splash settled into a calm, rippling, watery surface, four figures emerged in strange, dark green, bulky clothing that did not flow right for anyone to mistake them for elves or royalty. As soon as the two had reached this conclusion, they scattered for hiding-holes, as any good hobbit would. Sam, too, saw the commotion, and found himself hidden before they saw him.

The four looked around the abandoned elvish city after the water behind them vanished.

"Did you see that?" the one with a billed hat asked.

"Indeed," replied the dark-skinned one, who held a staff similar to a wizard's. "They appeared to have been scared off."

Frodo's eyes narrowed as he whispered, "I'll show them 'scared off!'" His sister's glare stilled him, though.

The other two, though, hadn't taken their eyes of the structures around them. "It's beautiful!" commented one.

"I don't recognize any of these markings or the architecture," explained the other. "Maybe the Goa'uld didn't bring these people from Earth." He took off for some of the inscriptions on the elvish buildings after getting a nod from the one with the hat. The rest of the team split up and disappeared into the buildings.

Sam did not fail to notice that the one studying the writings stood very near to his children. Then the worst thing he could imagine happened: the strange man dropped his notebook and saw the small hobbits when he bent down to pick it up.

"C'mon out," he said. "I won't hurt you." He frowned when they didn't answer. "Ich werde Ihnen nicht verletzen."

"Huh?" peeped Frodo, who then glanced to his sister and stood up, knowing that he was the only one seen.

The man smiled. "I'm Daniel Jackson. What's your name?" When the hobbit looked from the stranger to Sam, whose hiding spot was behind him, he turned quickly enough to catch a glimpse of the older hobbit. "Who's that?" When the hobbit still didn't answer, he reached up to press a box on his vest. "Jack, the city's not abandoned after all; they're just shy."

A voice came out of that same box. "I don't know, Danny. The place looks pretty abandoned to us. Teal'c says that it looks like they left between twenty and fifty years ago."

"I found one."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" he replied sarcastically. Then his voice got semi-serious again. "We'll be there in a minute."

Daniel released his vest pocket and smiled at the hobbit. "They're just my friends, no one to be afraid of."

Frodo swallowed. "I don't know, mister. Where I come from, they always tell us to hide when men such as yourself come along."

"If not here, then where are you from?"

Frodo shrugged. "Um... North of here?" he replied, seeing if he could get away with such a nondescript answer. It never worked with his parents, but this guy wasn't his parents, was he.

A crossword to all and to all a merry Christmas!
(Good luck with formatting! I think you'll have to copy it down onto graph paper or something.)
There's a message if you copy down all the letters that you don't use in the words. (Bonus doesn't count; you need those.)

B R E T A K A H C Y A L

J A C K N T L I N E A L

A D A N I E L R E J O A

C H R L S A I H L O M I

K L T Y E L E A N L A K

S E E N E C N V R I D O

O H R D A C O L O N E L

N O A O T M L O H A S R

O S G R H O A H T R A Y

F I R E E T N S A A L A

U R D R K A T A H E A C

S I H P O P A N U B I S

A S J O N A S Y E S E S

K S E T E S H T I N A T


There's the one that works. Trust me; I tried it the first time and couldn't for the life of me figure where Apophis and Dr. Jackson had run off to.
I suppose you'll want a word list, huh? Well! The demands you people make!

Anise
Anubis
Apophis
Baal
Bretak
Carter
Chaka
Colonel
Daniel
Hatak
Hathor
Jack (And NOT the one found in Jackson! Unless you can't find Jackson and then that's okay.)
Jackson
Jolinar
Jonas
Kasuf
Lantash
Linea
Loki
Oma Desala (one word; no space)
ONeill
Osiris
Ra
Ryac
Samantha
Setesh
Share
Sholvah
Tanith
Tealc
Thor
Yu

Bonus:
Find the princess. (Think a movie that came out in the late 70s, early 80s, late twentieth century, and early twenty-first century.)
Find a kind of precipatation.

I find it amusing that it worked out that Jack's by Hathor and Teal'c's by Tanith.

From my friend:

Alright.

The Thong Theory.

1) Who would want to wear something where the material is equal to two rubber bands and a tissue?

2) Who would want to wear something that could also be called butt floss?

3) It's so much fun to use as a slingshot!

For guys, it's called a jock strap, but it has a cup in it.

(Please ignore this one if you find it offensive. I just thought she was right, that's all, though I wouldn't normally think much on the subject.)

Before I forget, I got another idea for another cool fanfiction?

What if something like a Stargate really existed? And Wormholes X-treme was to the Stargate Program as Stargate SG-1 was to whatever existed? Take it away!

Thought I'd put the newer part where people can find it easier.

*******

Jolinar laid awake, attempting to determine her whereabouts. Strange music played, and a dog barked in the distance. Otherwise, she couldn't hear anything. She got up and found the off button on a black box marked "compact disk digital audio" that displayed 6:02 on the front in green.

She cracked open the bedroom door to reveal a fluffy black mutt, who immediately began barking his head off. Behind him stretched a short, dark hallway, a few other wooden doors, and stairs. She whipped the door closed and looked for a crystal panel with which to activate the locking mechanism. When she realized that she was still on Earth with the Tau'ri technology, she was finally able to lock the primative thing.

With her back against the flimsy door, she glanced around the room, still trying to find evidence of her location. A frame on the wall proudly displayed "Friends Forever" over a photo of two smiling, young teenagers. A blue backpack rested on the floor beside a worn, black chair. A young one, she thought, drawing on her host's experience for the knowledge. Her parents will not be pleased. It is a pity that she seems to have vanished from here as I have from that "SGC."

Quote of the day:

Question of the day: There's a Pokemon attack called "dragonbreath." If you fed that Pokemon tictacs, would it not be able to fight anymore?

Ted's question #23: Wwwwwwhy don't you pet me, for crying out loud?

Reeses progress report: None.

I just got a few ideas for fanfics if anyone wants to try 'em out.

1(Thor's Hammer) What if a Tok'ra got caught in Thor's Hammer?

2(Emancipation) What if a Tok'ra with a female host got found on the planet with the biased Mongols before Sam changed their world?

Lucky you, I'm not in much of a mood for sleep, so I think I'll go and update that one story where I get sent into Stargate.

Another pointless rant of satire for the day. Topic: Pointless assignments and classes.

TMP, Technical Multimedia Presentation, in which we learn how to use Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, and Microsoft Powerpoint as well as how to "touch type."

Do you have any idea how much I use MS Word at home? I did my whole twenty-eight page fanfiction, Hot Pink on MS Word last year, and that's the program I used for To Be, Reeses, and all of my other fanfics as well. Now, tell me, do I really need to relearn something that I figured out when I was, what, eight? Five? And so I ask myself: What is the point in being taught something I already know? Isn't the point of school to learn something, or learn something that you did not already know? It would be like someone explaining to me what Goa'uld and Tok'ra are or how to count. It's something I know very well and I do not need to be taught that again.

Okay, I can understand how people (including myself) don't know how Excel might be useful, but, again, it's not that hard to figure out; that's what the "help" button at the top's for. Not to mention that on the newer editions of Windows, you get the nice, pretty, little wizard dude that explains stuff in such a basic manner that two-year-olds could understand. Besides, hardly anyone uses the program outside of a work situation. (Then there's Dad, but he's a business owner; that explains everything.)

Powerpoint, though. *shakes head* We've been learning Powerpoint since fifth grade. Every year. And hyper-something-or-other, which NO ONE uses unless they're hopelessly addicted to Macs, man's worst enemy. So why do they think that we need to learn powerpoint yet again? Much more and it will be ingrained in our bones, a twenty-fourth DNA strand in each cell, hopelessly driving us to make... new... slide. We'll be TMP zombies, preaching the good news of powerpoint in places where the internet does not have its slimy grasp on the minds and hearts of poor, helpless souls of those who have succumbed to its power.

Wait! What am I talking about? I love the internet!

Oh, yes, the typing lessons. I mean, I must truly need them considering that I've had that typing CD that my parents gave me and I learned off of. Then there was another typing program in sixth grade. And one last year that lasted for a long while and now: this. Why does the stinkin' school district think so little of us as to make us take typing THREE times! Let alone anything we might happen to learn at home. I mean, obviously, I can't type; just look at how little I put in for each of these blogs. See? And I don't even use whole words that are spelled correctly. Just whatever words come to mind that can be shortened to the fewest characters. And if I could type well, then I'd have perfect grammar on this blog; as you can see, I don't. I mean, just look at this pitiful excuse for typing!

And now. Now Mr. B's making us do the same exact things over and over like we're dogs who must learn things by nothing less than many, many repetitions.

I feel like writing something creative, some kind of rant or rave so either prepare yourself and settle in for a long battle against any bit of sanity left in you or scroll down to one of the more interesting (or sensible) entries.

Now.

Topic.

The people at my school, but for a few, have no sense of decency.

Look at the *ahem* idiots in my gym class. They take pleasure in trying to hurt people, especially the six girls, with balls. (C'mon, think decent thoughts here; I'm talking soccer balls, despite the fact that they're guys.) And they're cheap little snakes, too. Mr. G. (whose name is shortened for his own protection) assigned them something like fifty push-ups a day, so what do they do? They get in that "plank" or "push-up position" and shake their arms. How pitiful is that? They're supposed to be these sturdy, brawny, I'll-go-save-the-damsel-in-distress men! And there they are, shaking their arms! I mean, you'd think that they'd actually be able to do them! Hey, I'm not so much of a hypocrit as you might think. I never get assigned push-ups, for one. (*angel voice* Because I'm a good little kid and I don't do anything I'm not supposed to. I don't throw balls at people, I don't body slam people, and I don't hit the lights with the kickballs.) And for two, even I can do push-up half decently without having to resort to shaking syndrome.
You know what's really disgusting with them, though? They come in for gym class, *gym class*, with baggy shorts. And when they bend over, you get to see more than you even knew you didn't want to see. Okay, maybe not, but I'll get to that later. Still, I don't want to be bestowed with the knowledge of what color underwear they're wearing today, if it's any different from yesterday. Again, that's just not something I want to see.

Okay, last year, I sat behind a slightly heavier person in science who had a tendancy to wear shirts just long enough to not get her in trouble. Now, let me warn you, I'm completely and totally against the "low rise" jeans. I have a pair that I'll wear occasionally, which bug me. Those aren't exactly the jeans I put on and say "oh, I love the way these fit! What brand are they so I can get more?" Well, last year, they were a little bit more popular that they are now. So whenever this girl in front of me would sit innocently in her chair, I would look up in utter horror to see a plumber's crack! And that's just not right! I mean, and I'm drawing off a discussion in Sunday school this morning, that style looks fine on twigs or models, but why in the world do they make size 22 super low-rise jeans? That's got to be even worse than the girl in front of me!

Another question. I have this shirt with the funniest message on it (with a pic of a dog: "Get your own slippers;" Ted chews on stuff). My friend has the same shirt. Anyway, it's really tight in the chest and I know another girl in my class likes to wear tight shirts as well. WHY??? Oh, by the way, this shirt, it hides about as much as a thin, white sports bra. Admittedly, it has sleeves and goes to my waist, but WHY? What's the point in wearing something like that? You'll have the dregs of the universe clinging to you in seconds. I understand that's what works for the cheerleaders with their uniforms that violate the dress code, but I would much rather be recognized for my writing ability and logic powers. (And not for brains! I take it back! I'm tired of people saying "you're smarter than me!" That's to be my next rant.) I'd rather people knew me as a Goa'uld (literally) than one of those girls that wears so little, you can see everything! (Well, that's not going to happen, is it.)

Oh, and what's with these high school relationships? They're so pointless! I mean, this is the one time in our lives when we're starting to be recognized as real people instead of pets and 90% of the world throws it away by spending our time thinking about gormless nerfherders who think they're the next Einstein? Besides, you're NOT going to be together forever; you'll be among the "lucky" few if your relationship lasts for two weeks, let alone fifty-two. And even then, even if you do go and get married, that doesn't mean you'll be "together forever" either. Just try to last for twenty years. There's always the threat of divorce hanging over your head, even after that.
Now, any of them would say, "Oh, but it'll be fun while it lasts!" Yeah, fun as in triple trouble. First of all, if you're doing anything beyond going to the movies or just the same kind of stuff that you'd do with your other friends (this time you can let your imagination get away; I'm not going to spell it out for you), you need to know that A) you're sinning, B) no one knows when he showered last (just take a peek at his dark, greasy hair), and C) who knows how many other people he *not going there* and what kind of nice, interesting diseases they had.
If you're ... making out *shudder* in the school stairwells (which they do!), you're obviously not going to/didn't get married before you do anything. It says in the Bible that that's a sin. And you say, "Oh, I'll just get forgiven when I'm done." That's another sin. Keep going at this pace, and you might as well invent the time machine, travel back to Calvary, and nail Christ to the cross yourself.
To almost spell B out for you: just look at that greasy hair. He smells like smoke (get there in a minute), and you think he's clean? I'm not known for being clean enough to eat off of, but I think that you're legally insane if you have a will to mess around with anyone that has that low of a level of cleanliness. I, for one, do not want someone sticking his tongue down my throat, especially if it tastes like an ashtray. (Get to that point in a couple minutes.)
And, of course, with AIDS and all those other STDs out there, who in their right mind would *shudder* with random nerfherders (synonem for male teenagers)? I mean, if you're going to do that, you might as well buy a plane ticket to Togo and do as you wish there.

Next. It's no secret that SNEC (my school) has a drug problem. Why else would there be one or two police officers at each school on the campus at any given time? Everyone's heard "drugs are bad," but why do those nerfherders (I have yet to pass a girl who smells like smoke) have to inflict pain on the rest of us "good little angels?" They smoke in the bathrooms by the cafeteria, so whenever I go by them, I have to hold my breath. Of course, you know, I have to pass it, what, five times a day. Then there's a nerfherder that comes into one of my classes (with assigned seats) and sits next to me. He literally smells like the burning end of either a cigarette or pot. Ever seen Pigpen on Charlie Brown? That's about what this guy's like; he has his own personal cloud of smoke. And, yeah right he's using that hall pass to go to the restroom! Especially when he comes back so heavily adorned with the scent that scooting as far away from him as possible doesn't help. I've almost considered asking Z. next to me to trade seats. I'd be so happy!

Back to the other thing. (Not THAT other thing, you insane person!) PDA. Public displays of affection. It's not allowed in SNEC, and I'm not complaining about that. But since it's not allowed, you would think that people would enforce that, but noooo. They just look the other way. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to get to my classes and I have to get by this couple that always stands in the door and kisses. Now, I've seriously considered whacking them with my lunchbox (bad cafeteria food, the basis of the description of alim'to). In fact, Mr. B. said that I could. He wouldn't stop me. (He didn't, however, promise me that I wouldn't get in trouble.) It's just that I don't want to see people standing in the halls and pretending they're on some kind of TV show that centers around them and their relationships. Aka, I don't want to have to see French kissing! I don't care if they do it like every other minute on TV, life is not TV. (And they rarely have it on Stargate, so hah. Thank goodness for military regs!) I don't want to see sloppy smooches on the cheeks, either. Couldn't a friendly hug suffice until you get out of school and away from me? Maybe I'm a little bias here, some primordial jealous nature that surfaces for the mere reason that I do not have (or care for) a boyfriend. Granted that, even if I did, I would think that I'd have the self-control needed to JUST hug. (Aren't my parents so proud? Good for them.)

Related to that, I hate seeing couples walking down the hall in front of me. I'll be the first to admit I have a fairly quick pace when I'm trying to get to my classes, but I can slow down... a little. But meandering along right down the middle of the walkway (or large groups of friends for that matter) is rather annoying. I understand that you only have two doors down to go for your next class and that you want to make every second of it count, but could you stop staring deep into eachother's eyes long enough to get there, wait outside the door for your parting sentiments or walk by the wall so that others, like me, can get by?

Quote of the day: Um... If you're at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on. Either that or jump off into the burning building below and trusting that you'll be going to a more peaceful place. Call it a... leap of faith. Just kidding. No, when you're at the end of your rope, tie a knot at the bottom. Then one above that and above that and above that until you practically have a ladder. Yeah, it's time consuming, but it's either that or jumping into the burning building. Take your pick.

Question of the day: Why is Pokemon so addictive, even when you don't like it?

Ted's question #22: Why do you smell like cat?

Reeses progress report: Um. I have made an executive/submissive decision that I HAVE to work on that biology project. (Too bad I won't let you see the string of adjectives before that! But I don't want to reveal the true nature of my dark side and the depth of my hatrid for biology.) So, because of that, I will need all of my writing time for biology; I have only 2/25 hours so far. In the eternal words of ... someone: "Das ist sehr schlecht oder viel schlecht," depending on the badness level. Could be both.

Anyway, for those of you who actually like my writing about Tok'ra, if and when I finish my biology project (again with the adj.s), my supplementary biology project will be an explanation of the anatomy of a Tok'ra symbiote as it relates to the human body, the beginning of which can be found at this here link which you may or may not have overlooked.

Binksbabe drifted off to sleep, snug in her bed, taking comfort in her dog's weight at her feet after a long evening of fanfiction browsing. When consciousness returned too soon, her first thought was Why is my bed so cold? . She shifted her weight slightly, trying to find the mutt at her feet. She did not find it particularly strange that he wasn't there; he'd probably gone to wait by her door. She shifted again, the realization that she was no longer smug in her bedcovers closer to dawning on her with each passing second.

Finally, she dragged herself onto her elbows and cracked her eyes opn. She stared at a wall, just as she expected, but it was... gray! She rolled over to see a large-ish gray room divided into four sections by walls of metal bars. Two red lazers guarded her side of the bars.

She yawned, still waking up. Reminds me of an episode of Stargate. She pulled herself onto her feet just in time for Richard Dean Anderson to make his grand entrance.

If that dream I had a few weeks ago wasn't foreshadowing, I don't know what is, she thought. She glanced again at his surprised face, and her jaw dropped slightly as she fell into a shocked silence.

His eyebrows lowered. "You're not that Goa'uld! How'd you get in here?"

Binksbabe continued to stare at him until his question finally registered in her mind. "Of course I'm not; Goa'ulds don't exist! And if you don't know how I got here, I bet I sleepwalked."

His brows furrowed as they often did on Stargate when Carter told him some scientific explanation. "How do you know about the Goa'uld?"

Binksbabe let out a sligh, half-hearted laugh. "What dedicated Stargate fan doesn't?" She noticed his alarmed and more than slightly baffled expression. "You're not Richard Dean Anderson, are you?"

"Ah, no." He took one step back towards the door.

Binksbabe's smile grew wider. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Colonel O'Neill! "

"Do you know everything?"

She shrugged. "Everything from the episodes I've seen, but I've apparently missed the ones with you and big needles; Jonas and bananas; and Daniel and coffee."

One of the colonel's eyebrows rose. "Jonas?"

"Oh, so whenever I am, it's during the series and before Daniel ascended," she muttered to herself. "What year is it?"

"1998, why?"

"If it's 2003 now and we're in season 7, then this must be season... 2!" Her voice grew excitedly as she figured out the season.

"Since you konw so much, mind telling me where Major Carter is?"

"Sure, what episode?" At his blank look, she continued, "Sorry, forgot. Where was she?"

He pointed to the cell in which she stood. "Last time I looked, she was in there."

Binksbabe nodded, guessing she had been zapped into "In the Line of Duty," one of her favorite episodes. "Well, if I'm here and she's not, it would make sense to assume that Jolinar's waking up in my room this morning."

He frowned. "You mean that Goa'uld is," he began, poking his thumb up and behind his shoulder, "out there?"

She shrugged again. "Yeah, but if I'm right, she won't be able to do anything other than get in a whole lot of trouble. Besides, it's not like she's going to go out and demand the dedicated service of all the people in the world."

"She's--it's a Goa'uld; of course--"

"She's not a Goa'uld, but I really don't want to mess up the series by telling who she is. You know, the whole grandfather paradox thing."

"What?!"

Binksbabe bit her lip. "Yeah, I guess this is before '1969.' Well, that's a problem."

Jack looked at her with a rather confused expression. To the best of his knowledge and mathematical ability, the year 1998 came after 1969. "So when will Carter be back?"

She rolled her eyes. "Considering this situation has varied from the regularly scheduled episode... I'd say she'll return... by the time her last boyfriend dies."

She could see the jealousy arise in his eyes at the mention of the possibility that she might romance someone other than him.

Quote of the day:...I don't have one, but I felt like I got scolded for yesterday's.

Question of the day: What's with going back to school? Isn't the point to stay away?

Ted's question #21: Nevermind. You're ignoring me. *pout*

Reeses progress report: ... Let's change that...

To Be progress report: That's better! Yeah, I wrote a little bit more for To Be, but I'm not done for the day. It looks like that's the last thing for me to write before I get to work on CCW. (http://seabiology.blogspot.com)

If you have any major suggestions for CCW (and absolutely NO criticism for the little green men), e-mail me. If you don't have my e-mail address, e-mail my dog at imperialtraineetheodorehoundini@barkforbuck.com. If that's too long, too bad.

Quote of the day: "Your writing's not just half-decent, it's bloody good!" -Mara Jade, Jedi. (She has no clue how tickled I was at that!)

Question of the day: I'm too happy and positive to come up with a critical question today. Wonder why?

Ted's question #20: What was that water-torture yesterday all about?

Reeses progress report: Um, little to no progress on Reeses, though I did send a revised version to selori for her opinion. I'm thinking about reconsidering that, since she hasn't replied, but I'll give her a break.

Mara Jade, I hope you're very happy with all the stories below. I'm glad someone likes my writing, and I'm really glad that I'm not just writing for my own amusement, that I'm also entertaining you. Hey, if I can write well enough to have fans now when they can be off reading some professional author's stuff, just think what kind of future I could have if I decide to become an author!
On that note, may I also suggest another story that I'm working on with some of my friends called What Has Yet to Occur . Enjoy!

1/2 A YEAR AFTER TO BE, SARAH IS A FRESHMAN IN HIGH SCHOOL

One pair of dirty sneakers slowly treaded down the hall filled with new, fashionable shoes that were not well suited to navigating crowded halls during the four minutes between classes.

The rushing figure wore plain, comfortable jeans. Not hip-huggers or bell-bottoms. They were not excessively tight nor did they reveal underwear. They were secured at her hips by a blue camouflage belt, an object as foreign to her classmates as calamari or alim’to was to their diets.

She wore a large, loose t-shirt that did not reveal her shapely figure; she would rather that someone would notice her talents and abilities than her body.

She stepped into the room at the end of the hall on the third story and crossed to her assigned desk in the front corner of the room by the window. This was where she was supposed to be, but it didn’t seem like where she belonged. All the people in her class looked older than her; she didn’t know a one. They seemed to have a different set of values than the people she had talked to the previous year her old school. These all looked like tenth graders. She felt like someone swimming in piranha-infested waters – reveal a weakness, an imperfection and they’d be on you in seconds, eating you alive, stripping flesh off your bones, destroying you until they reached the solid core of your being if you had one. She wondered if one of her friends had that solid core, her friend who resembled one of these piranhas, but out of water. She doubted it.

All her work to get here, put in a class with the boy who always took up a whole seat on the crowded bus that took her back to the small town where she lived in the suburbs of a large city. She knew he wasn’t above sabotaging half the seat so that he could sleep across it on the way to school; he had done it the day before.

She shook her head. She was different than everyone else in the school, and it annoyed her sometimes. She did not need to be here; she knew most of it already. Math seemed like such a simple thing now, ever since she’d been kidnapped the previous year. That one event had changed her life forever, and it was the reason why she had moved to Colorado Springs after finishing eighth grade. Of course, she couldn’t talk about it with anyone except her one friend back in Pennsylvania; the military had deemed it classified. She wasn’t lonely, however. The very being who whispered the answers to math problems and explanations could never leave her. The two were closer than sisters anyway.

Class started and she suffered through the forty minutes of administrative stuff that was always present during the first few days of school. After a few minutes, a feeling surfaced within her, though it was not her own: shock at the redundancies of the school, the repetition of rules and dress codes. She could tell that the other thought that these adults should have it better organized so that the same things would only be repeated once and then they could get on with learning. After all, hadn’t they done this the previous day?

Finally, the bell buzzed and she took her belongings to her German class two floors down. Here, they were required to have at least two years of a foreign language to graduate. She wondered why she had to also; she could already speak proficient ancient Egyptian, known to her by another name.

She took her seat in German class and fought the sudden urge to burst out, venting her frustration in an Ancient Egyptian dialect.

***

Again, she sat, this time in the bright, high-ceilinged room used for a cafeteria. So many tables had been crammed into it that three square feet of empty space existed only in the front; scooting a chair back would block at least half of the aisle.

She did not know whose table she had sat at; they had only been in school for one day. When she saw a group of tough-looking boys approaching, she tensed, teh other one scolding her as she did so. Once they passed, she looked pu from the most interesting blank spot on her tray to see a dark-haired, Chinese-looking girl standing over her table.

"Mind if I sit here, Sarah?" asked her next door neighbor as she took a seat.

"Not at all, Jane," she replied, glad to have new company, someone her own age.

"So how's your day going?"

"Oh," Sarah replied, "not bad. It's been boring." Then an urge rose up within her; it had been so long, she barely remembered it. The other being took control of her body, easily overcoming Sarah's instinct to struggle for it. Momentarily, she felt a burning in her eyes similar to the pain when she got shampoo in her eyes. Immediately, the other realized that she wasn't allowed to speak and relinquished control of her host.

Meanwhile, Jane had taken a seat, but now sat as far away from her classmate as the other chairs crowded around the table would allow.

Sarah glanced around quickly to see that no one else had seen her eyes flash with a golden light.

Jane's eyes hadn't left her new-found friend. "Sarah, what was that?"

Sarah shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. My contacts reflect light from a certain angle."

The younger freshman looked doubtful, but did not pursue the subject. "So, what class do you have next?"

"Typing class," replied Sarah, contempt clear in her voice.

A slight giggle escaped from Jane; she knew her friend could already type better than any of her other acquaintences.

The remainder of lunch was pleasant for both of them, but when the bell rang, dread filled both of them as they hurried off to their seventh period classes.

***

Sarah hurried to her house from the bus stop, rushed inside, and locked the door behind her. As she leaned heavily against the sturdy door, she found herself again thinking of what had happened at lunch. She couldn't believe her symbiote had been that careless; even when they were on base, surrounded by others like them, she usually ducked her head before taking control to hide the flashy eyes that were much too Goa'uld-like.

Sarah sighed, glad that she had come up with a half-believable excuse for once. Reflecting contacts? What was I thinking? she wondered as she made her way to her room. She opened the door, the only barrier to keep the dog from destroying her stuff, and nearly jumped out of her skin when her eyes fell upon the short, grey-tan form standing beside her bed amidst all the stuff strewn about the floor.

She remembered being told about the creatures and that they were normally pleasant to be around. Despite that, however, she felt fear rise within her.

Without preamble, the creature spoke. "you are in direct violation of the Protected Planets Treat."

"Am not!"

The other did not respond to this, but seemed taken aback, more than Sarah would expect for a simple "Am not"-"Are too" argument. Then she realized that she, the host, had spoken, not the symbiote.

For better or worse, she let Vinnet speak. "You are mistaken; we are in violation of no treaties."

"There are to be no Goa'uld on this planet at any time," declared the Asgard, looking up at the fourteen-year-old's face.

Vinnet sighed. "And so there are currently no Goa'uld on Earth; I am a Tok'ra."

INTERNATIONAL HALLOWEEN GIFT SHOP, based on a dream

October 30th and its morrow happened to be the only two days of the year that Michele and Leah could shop at the International Halloween Gift Store. It wasn't that they weren't allowed to go the other days; their parents let them walk in the woods behind Michele's house any time they wanted. It wasn't that the story was closed the rest of the year; the bright orange sign on the door proudly proclaimed: Open 365 days a year.

Open to who? wondered Michele as the two began their yearly trek into the deep, calm woods. From here, they could not hear the festivities at the store. We used to go there on the first of November to go clearance shopping, but when we got there, the building, paved parking lots, underground horse barn, all of it was gone, like nobody had ever built on the lot.

After hiking for a while in the high-ceilinged pine forest, they came to a narrow dirt road that separated dense underbrush from the woods that had only small plants and layers upon layers of brown leaves and pine needles.

They continued their yearly hike, taking a right on the worn path. Various birds' chirping provided a pleasant background to thier light conversation as they talked of school, home, families, and religion. Red-gold light from the sunset filtered through the trees, almost making it seem like they were walking down a yellow brick road.

Mara Jade, Jedi asked for more, so here's the beginning of TORTURE.

Defeat. The famous SG-1 had been beaten by a small troup of Anubis's scouts, who now led them back to a Ha'tak fifty miles away. The four team members marched in a line flacked by a couple rows of Jaffa that looked none too happy about carrying their gear.

They were chained together, of course, with about five innocent villagers between each of them.

:) Another fun little writing activity that may be ff.net worthy after some further development: an Inu-Yasha-Stargate crossover. (Set VERY early in the Inu-Yasha series and somewhere before, during, or after the Stargate series.) Like with the last one I actually wrote a substantial amount on, sorry for the redundancies. (The Department of Redundancies Department made me do it!) And I didn't mean to make Teal'c seem so dense! Really! I like Teal'c! NO! Don't put me on the wrong end of the Jaffa Revenge stuff... please? Pretty please!? Hello? Can anyon-- *silence* *You are glad she finally shut up so you can go about reading.*



Inu-Yasha found himself in a furball, so to speak. Invisible hair tugged on his arms and legs, preventing him from moving.

"Ah..." cried Yura, "what a lovely fly I've caught. You're Inu-Yasha, aren't you?"

His eyes narrowed. "And you're Yura of..." He stopped in mid-epithet as his surroundings changed without warning. The young demon before him and the ball of hair behind her faded to another place like a bad scene change in some cheap scifi movie, but he wouldn't know that. All he knew was that another woman now leaned over him, preventing him from properly taking note of his surroundings. "...the hair?"

The woman had short, blonde hair and a strange face. She said over her shoulder, "Colonel, he's coming to!"

His eyebrows furrowed as she backed away to be replaced by a middle-aged man with abnormally short hair. "Who are you?"

He looked away to see a row of beds in line with his that ended in ugly white drapery. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because," the stranger began, becoming a little frustrated, "you--"

"Jack," interrupted a third voice from behind him that the half-demon could not see. "He's probably confused. Obviously, he's not from around here."

"Then what can you get out of him, Danny?" Jack rebutted.

Danny came up on the half-demon's right, which was when he realized that his normal clothes were gone and replaced with thinner, white clothing. Unfortunately, he still wore that cursed necklace of prayer-beads.

Danny, like the other three that Inu-Yasha could now see, did not look right, something about how their eyes were shaped and how short they wore their hair. How distasteful! Anyhow, he spoke, pointing from himself around the room to the woman still standing on the half-demon's left. "I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson, that's Teal'c, he's Colonel Jack O'Neill, and she's Major Samantha Carter." He looked back to the figure on the hospital bed. "Who are you?"

"My name's Inu-Yasha."

Daniel frowned. "Sounds oriental."

"I wonder if he knows anything about Yu," said Major Carter.

The half-demon raised an eyebrow. "I've never met any of you before!"

Most of them smiled or even laughed--how dare they--while Teal'c only showed the faintest hint of a grin. "That's just like you when you heard about him, Colonel," Sam offered.

"You did it, too, when Jacob came before the System Lords' party," Jack reminded her.

Most of the smile dropped off her face. "It was a joke."

While they carried on, Inu-Yasha took the time to get familiar with his surroundings. He could see two exits: one directly across from his bed, where he could see two other uniformed humans, and one at the end of the room with shelving and supplies visible on the other side. He could not understand where the light was coming from; it was not from the sun or from fire or magic. But he had seen something similar once before at Kagome's house.

"--asha? Inu-Yasha? Are you all right?" Daniel asked.

"Of course I am!" he snapped.

Daniel frowned. "Well, Janet, the doctor, says that you're going to be fine, but she wants to keep you here overnight."

"Who are we to argue with the almighty doctor?" Jack inquired sarcastically.

"Fools," the half-demon muttered under his breath. The three men left, leaving Sam alone with him. She didn't say anything for a while, but just kept staring, not even looking into his eyes. "What's your problem?" Inu-Yasha finally asked.

She shook her head, as if trying to clear it after a bad dream. "Sorry. I just can't get over how weird your ears are."

He looked straight out the door again, exasperated. "Why does everyone seem to have an obsession with my ears?"

Sam shrugged. "They're different from everything we've seen. And they kind of remind me of my cat Schrodinger's ears."

"Dog ears," he said. At her baffled expression, he explained, "They should look more like dog ears."

She shrugged and smiled. "Okay. Janet says you should get some rest, so I'll leave." With that, she stood and walked out the exit, closing the metal door behind her.

Then he noticed that the air smelled extraordinarily clean. Yuck! He glanced around and smelled the air again, this time ignoring the sterile scent, to find that the room was lifeless. He jumped out of the bed, immediately noticing how drafty these human clothes were, and scouted around the infirmary until he found his clothes.

Once he had changed out of the abominable garments into something decent, literally, he checked the unguarded exit to find that it was only a closet. With only a tiny measure of reluctance, he incapacitated the two guards and followed the distinct trail of the tall, dark man--Teal'c--to a slightly larger room than the one he had been in before. This one held food of some sort, or at least that's what it looked like since many were eating it. But it didn't smell at all appetizing to the half-demon. (Except for the neon green stuff that wiggled, of course, and the soft, cold, creamy stuff and the...) Well, maybe some of it smelled appetizing.

Just then, an alarm went off, causing whirling red lights to glow and spin. Teal'c jumped up from his peaceful and rather large meal and began running towards the control room without thinking. Long before he could get there, however, when he had only gotten to the door, he slammed into Inu-Yasha and noticed that the half-demon was out of place.

***************************

Inu-Yasha paced back and forth in the cage. He had already tried to use his claws to escape, but not only had his claws not gone through the metal, which was no surprise, but two armed and annoyed guards had run in. So now he paced, not really doing much of anything until the metal door flew open to reveal a very unhappy Colonel O'Neill.

"You killed them?" he nearly yelled.

Inu-Yasha shrugged. "They were in my way."

"What are you, a Goa'uld?" His eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

He shrugged. "I'm a half-demon."

Jack's voice got loud again. "I knew it! You are a Goa'uld!" Then he took a look at the ears, and it was obvious that he reconsidered the statement.

"I don't know what you're talking about; just take me back to where I was."

The colonel rolled his eyes. "Like that's going to happen; we pulled you off of a Goa'uld mothership!"

"A what?" His brows furrowed again. What in all the hells was a mothership?

"You were on one of their ships and you don't know what a Goa'uld is?" Jack asked incredulously, moving closer to the bars that separated them.

Oh, so a mothership is some kind of boat... he thought. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jack frowned and decided to back off a little for once. "So what's the last thing you remember?"

How much should I tell him? He obviously wouldn't know what I'm talking about. "I was fighting Yura with Kagome," he replied, deciding that if he told all, the stupid human would still be none the wiser.

Jack frowned. "You were fighting I'm a with gag on me?" he repeated, bringing forth a rather large grin from the half-demon. "Which is the Goa'uld?"

Thought someone might be interested in "I was a Teenage Tok'ra." Draft 1

She stared defiantly at the so-called "god" that towered before her in his grand attire: Ra. *I should never have let this happen, but it's too late now.*

Ra snapped his fingers and his pet Jaffa, also dressed elaborately, came forward. He pried open her clenched jaw, poured the contents of a golden goblet into her mouth, and held her mouth and lips shut, in effect, forcing her to swallow.

Oh, how the fiery liquid burned! Its chemicals quickly leapt into her blood, having separate effects for symbiote and host. The chemicals slammed into her, reminding her of coming out of hyperspace without bracing herself. She held onto consciousness with every fiber of strength she had, trying desperately to remove the chemicals from her host's blood. If she didn't, Eminara would be forced to reveal everything the two of them knew of the Tok'ra.

The last thing Vinnet knew before her grasp of consciousness slipped away was Ra's sinister laugh at the knowledge of her desperation.


Sarah awoke breathing hard and lying dead still, as if a single twitch would be rewarded with a painful zat blast. She took a few moments to calm down before noting the comforting weight of her dog at the foot of her bed.

She thought about rolling over and going back to sleep, but panicked when she realized she couldn’t. Of course, how could she have forgotten about Vinnet, even at... two: forty-three in the morning?

The Tok'ra glanced around the room, which was lit by a digital clock display that cast an eerie green tint to the dog, bed posts, wooden desk, and shadowy figure in the corner. Vinnet looked again. Of course there wasn't any shadowy figures in the corner, waiting to kill her!

After quickly checking for traces of the fire drink in Sarah, the Tok'ra let her get back to sleep; later that day would be their first day of school together.


*It's all about the Pentiums, baby!
It's all about the Pentiums, baby!*

Sarah jerked awake at the beginning of the semi-rap-ish song. Vinnet merely wondered why anyone would write a song about computers, even if her host did find the words amusing.

The eighth grader readied herself and, deciding that if she could go thirty hours without food, she'd be good until lunch, headed straight to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Now, this would not normally be mentioned in a story, but most stories do not have Tok'ra brushing their teeth.

As her host readied the toothbrush and paste, Vinnet realized the purpose of the ritual. //That will not be necessary,// she thought, deciding words would best communicate her exact feelings on the matter.

Her host raised an eyebrow and continued. //Oh, really?//

//I can prevent anything better than you will with that,// the symbiote boasted.

//Go ahead,// Sarah replied, //but humor me.//

The symbiote mentally rolled her eyes and paid attention as Sarah half-heartedly ran the brush around her mouth.

With that done, she grabbed her coat and backpack and strolled out the new front door into the biting cold February morning. She arrived at the bus stop to find the rest of her group already there.

"Hey, Sarah," Jane greeted. "You missed the best discussion in Ancient Civ. yesterday! Marc got Mr. McC. to tell us stories all period!"

"I'm not even in your class," Sarah reminded her.

"Yeah, where were you?" Linda asked.

A mischievous smile came over her face. "I was abducted by aliens, who wanted to put a tracking device in me, but I said no thanks."

Most of the group groaned, except for Kat, who laughed... once. "Where were you really?" asked Caitlyn, a sophomore and Jane's sister.

Vinnet also scolded the Tau'ri for coming so close to the truth. "I was sick. Sith! I forgot my note, too." She frowned.

//This note must be from soneone in authority?// Vinnet inquired, seeking confirmation of what she already knew.

//Yeah. Not you.//

//How about Colonel O'Neill?//

She raised an eyebrow, belatedly realizing that she was talking to a snake in her head and that the others wouldn't understand. She'd have to get used to that. //It's all right. We'll get one for tomorrow. One day won't hurt anything.//

When the bus came, she hurried on to find that the closest empty seat to the front was only three seats from the back. She reluctantly took it, attempting to breathe less of the smelly air. //Please have a seat and join the dregs of the universe in the smokey undertail of the bustling metropolis of Coruscant,// Sarah thought to herself.

//Coruscant?//

//You're in my head, you should be able to... I dont' know, access what I know, right?// she thought as she was reminded of all the pictures and descriptions of Coruscant she'd seen.

Egeria's Hope

Lieutenant Lanfried had always had great health. And while she had gone through the normal cuts, bruises, colds, and upset stomachs, they had never seemed as bad to her as other people described. She had, until this point, somehow managed not to have an MRI or anything of the sort. So, upon her return from her first mission at the SGC, she was quite surprised when she was told that she hosted a Goa'uld, and a queen, no less.

She thought over her first and last mission: It had only been a "routine" off-world briefing on a Tok'ra base, but it was the most eye-opening experience she had ever been through besides becoming part of the SGC in the first place. She didn't remember blacking out or any particular pain in her neck or... or wherever that thing... however that thing... got in.

Lanfried snuggled against the solidity of the wall of her confinement cell, reveling in how, though the rest of her world seemed to be melting before her eyes, that wall stood rock still, not wavering in the least. She laughed gently. Amazing how simple things make all the difference sometimes.

She felt something shift deep within her, but paid it no mind; she had come to ignore that feeling or whatever that came whenever she was upset. This time, though, it didn't stop shortly. This shiver-up-your-spine feeling continued to climb further up her back, but it wasn't really in her spine that she felt this. Around it, maybe, but... Pain. More pain than before. A physical hurt this time. Soon, though, it stopped, and she realized, somehow, that it wasn't supposed to hurt. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Sometimes, though, things happen in a way that they weren't supposed to.

***

Docter Frasier approached the two guards outside her patient's confinement cell. If there was one part of her job that she hated, her duty in dealing with possible Goa'uld had to take the cake. And this time, it was a queen, too. She thought of the last Goa'uld queen in the SGC long ago. Hathor had been such a nightmare to all of them, but the memories of that incident were much more vivid in her mind than those of the men on-base.

She shook her head, trying to focus on the situation at hand. Maybe things weren't as bad as she thought they were. Maybe the MRI was wrong. Maybe the lieutenant was perfectly healthy; after all, she hadn't exhibited any Goa'uld-like behavior, and she had only visited a Tok'ra base. Yeah, and maybe the colonel won't be sarcastic today.

Frasier looked up through the small window in time to see a golden eye flash. So much for that idea.

Quote of the day: Ich haben nicht.

Question of the day: What is with that stupid writer's block? And what's up with the biology projects? Grr. Any teacher with a decent respect for kids and what they do in their free time would give us a whole week to spend on those projects!

Ted's question #19: Can I have a cookie now?

Reeses progress report: Reeses? As I explained to Mara Jade, Jedi, I'm supposed to be neglecting fanfiction and writing an original work for biology. Yeah, right. The beginning stunk worse than a rotting pile of manuer. My friends' cats have hacked up better things, to put in the words of one of my reviews on Reeses. (It's okay; Teoney was joking.) I think it might be a good time to actually come up with a plot for what I'm calling "CCW:" Chlorophyll/ chloroplast whatevers. I might just name the story that and have one of the main characters call it that. I don't know. The whole idea of an STD really just sends shivers up my spine. It's one of those things like history and biology where you'd just rather be a Goa'uld.

But Father, Where Art Thou is coming along well. If Mara Jade, Jedi e-mails me back soon, that is. Well, gute nacht.

Other:
Anaitis was the ancient Persion goddess of water, fertility, war, and patroness of women. Name means "the immaculate one."

Father, Where Art Thou?
Jack finds himself in trouble… again.

“So, class, does anyone know what happens beyond the event horizon of a black hole?”

He rolled his eyes; high school teachers still treated them like idiots. Even Carter wasn’t this bad!

The teacher picked on Matt, one of the football players, who answered, “Things get stretched to infinity and become really small and dense.”

The teacher looked around the room for more answers. “No one else? When objects cross the event horizon, time starts to dilate. This is because—”

“Mrs. McDonald, time dilates long before the even horizon is crossed,” he interrupted, bored and annoyed.

“Jonathan O’Neill, how many times do I have to tell you to not disrupt my class? You’re here to learn what the world knows, not what you think you know.”

He rolled his eyes again. “For crying out loud, I didn’t think my fellow classmates would appreciate if I let you teach it wrong.” Poorly contained giggle arose around him; everyone loved it when he contradicted the teacher and got her off-track.

“Mr. O’Neill, I will not stand your disruptions today. You have three nights’ detention. Now go to the office.” She scribbled some half-legible note on a green piece of paper with the school’s name on it—a “hall pass.”

A couple more snickers let loose before her gaze found the sources. The noise level gradually rose as people began whispering to each other.

Jack grabbed the pass and left, grateful to not have to listen to the Carter-babble any longer. “No, don’t listen to me,” he whispered as he plodded down the stairs by the classroom. “Don’t listen to the guy who had to drop a bomb into an active wormhole to cut it off from a black hole!”

He rounded a couple more corners and swung open the office door to be greeted by the bright, smiling face of the guidance councilor.

“Jack, I thought you promised me you wouldn’t get thrown out of science class again.”

All his hope for a decent day flew down the drain. "Did I? Well, if Mrs. McDonald would teach right, I wouldn't be here."

"Jack, we've been over this before. What gives you the idea that you know more that your teachers?"

*Maybe because I've done this before?* he thought. "My very good friend is an astrophysicist and she told me."

The councilor closed his eyes. "Jack, I think we need to speak to your parents."

He almost laughed, remembering that he lived alone. "Where's Thor when you need him?" he muttered.

"What did you say, Jack?"

He put on his "who, me?" face. "Nothing, Mr. Jones. Just where's the phone?"

The councilor did not look amused, but pointed into his office.

"Oh, right, thanks." He found the black "phone of doom" and dialed the number for the SGC. "Colonel O'Neill, please?"

A few seconds later: "What, Daniel?!"

He lowered his voice. "Colonel O'Neill, this is Colonel O'Neill."

"Oh, sorry." He heard a squeak as the leader of SG-1 sat back at his desk.

"Um, the guidance councilor wants to speak to my parents. Somehow, I don't think he'll buy that I live alone."

"Good. Danny's been bugging us with his rock stuff, so Carter and I will be right over."

"Great."

*******

Ten minutes later, Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter walked into the office in quickly-changed civilian clothes and sat down with Jack in the dreaded guidance office.

"Mr. and Mrs. O'Neill, I presume?" Jones asked.

A moment of silence passed before: "Uh, not quite." "Actually, I'm Samantha Carter." "No!"

He appeared puzzled for a moment. "Would you happen to be the astrophysicist Jonathan has learned so much from?"

Carter frowned and glanced to the two Jacks. "Uh, I never knew they--he--was listening."

"I see. The probem is that he repeatedly disrupts class by contradicting his teachers."

"About what?" Carter inquired.

"Oh, you know," young Jack replied, "black holes, faster-than-light travel, wormholes, all the stuff I know more about than she ever will."

O'Neill and Carter shot him a collective glare. "Will you please excuse us?" the colonel requested, his voice turning towards anger.

"Now, sir, there's no reason to be upset. He's a bright kid, but he doesn't know where to stop."

"Exactly," replied the elder Jack.

Councilor Jones leaned forward slightly. "We're not here to punish Jonathan any more than he already has been with his three nights' detention. I'm just going to suggest that you expose him to other genres besides science fiction."

Meanwhile, the Jacks leaned together and kept their voices down. "What did you say?" SG-1's leader asked.

"Not much," Jack Junior replied. "I didn't say that any of it exists, just that it could happen. It's not like I went into Carter-babble or mentioned anything."

O'Neill looked wary. "Oh. Okay. That makes everything better."

"I know you don't believe me, but you can trust me as much as you trust yourself."

O'Neill's brows furrowed, and he looked just plain doubtful. As the Jacks broke up, Sam shook her head, verifying that the councilor had been listening to whatever she was saying instead of them.

"I guess that's everything," the councilor remarked. "I must say, Jack, that you bear a remarkable resemblance to your father."

He shrugged and replied, a hint of bitterness in his tone, "Imagine that."

*******
I hope you know that I like you guys a lot or else I wouldn't have just gone through and deleted three characters before every quotation mark or apostrophe in the first half and edited the program's errors with spell-check in the second half.

Just an idea I thought I'd jot down and permit my loyal viewers to peruse. *tries to keep mock obnoxious expression on face, but fails, cracking up*

"You're welcome to stay in my room until we find somewhere else for you to stay," I offered, swinging open my door and leading her into my room.

She offered her thanks and said good-night. Then she turned into the room and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes darted from my unicorn poster to my horse figurines, my wolf comforter, the 101 Dalmation pillow covers, and, finally, my Star Wars daily calendar.

She turned on her heel and took off at full speed, plowing into me so that we both fell back in a heap. Garshaw walked over and climbed onto her back to lick her face.

"What's wrong?" I asked from the bottom of the pile once I'd recovered my breath.

"Eyes," she whispered. "They're everywhere!"

Quote of the day: Ichkkk! Liebe dichkkk!

Question of the day: ...How come everyone makes fun of German?

Ted's question #18: Aren't you ever going to fix that nice, soft beach ball that you gave me the other day?

Reeses progress report: Um... None on Reeses, but I might have a few ideas for Terran Jedi...

Dunno if anyone's interested, but here's a story I wrote back at Slippery Rock when I started this thing. Enjoy! It's a Hot Pink/ Reeses crossover. (aka. SW and SG-1) Oh, yeah, there's also some elements of my friend's fanfic in it, too!
*******

A figure ran toward a large, circular structure and the corresponding pedestal, seven angry men in metal armor and lion-headed helmets following. Their long, staff-like weapons traced golden energy along her path, coming only close enough to their target to encourage greater speed and agility. Yeah, Vandrof was right, she thought, darting to the left, I go anywhere in these clothes and it’s a dead give-away I’m not here to make an alliance with these trigger-happy idiots.

Soon, she reached the pedestal and smacked a few of the symbols on its broad, circular surface on the way to ducking behind it. She hopped up and dialed a couple more and again, but this time, she thought she felt her hand press against three instead of the two she needed. Even if I did dial wrong, if I get anywhere in one piece, it’ll be better than staying here. A large blue splash announced the opening of an active wormhole and she dashed into it. After a few moments of the whirling light show known as ‘gate travel, she found herself on another world with various humanoids that she’d never seen before staring at her. Immediately, she dove for the bare dirt ground; many staff weapon blasts were still searching for their target.

***

Chaos had already reigned at the excavation site for four hours straight by the time the Gungan Vornskr landed on Sehkmet III. As the two freighter captains walked down the boarding ramp side by side, each observed a different aspect of the goings-on. Captain Lynsie Stormrider, a tall, cat-like half-breed, noted the utter shock and disorder felt by those who worked here. Her friend in life and rival in business, a Gungan named Jess Jess Cadyue, saw only a slightly more lively camp than the one here the previous day.

They approached a nearby off-white tent and Lynsie spoke to the make-shift guards flanking the entrance, about the only stationary figures within ten kilometers. “What’s happening that’s so extraordinary that you need a Jedi?”

The brown and cream Bothan on the right looked up into her green eyes. “This morning, we turned the artifact up on its side, like it was shown in the glyphs. About an hour later, this bright blue thing jumped out of the circle. Then she,” he explained, motioning to the interior of the tent, “walked out of the water looking thing in the circle.”

His partner, a human in his thirties, continued for him. “We weren’t sure if she was friend or foe, so we commed you.”
She nodded and led the Gungan into the canvas construction where they found a human wearing a loose shirt and comfortable jeans pacing around the small enclose. A small ditch had begun to form, marking her path.

The dirty-blonde-haired woman stopped and looked at the two alien beings in front fo her. “I can understand why you’re cautious to let me have free roam of this place, but what’s all the talk about whether I’m an Imperial or not? If you let me have a minute with the ‘gate and DHD, I’d be happy to leave the way I came and get out of your hair.”

Jess Jess frowned momentarily, the expression exaggerated on her face. “Those of us who are non-human don’t appreciate the Imperials’ anti-alien bias. That prejudice means that almost all Imperials are human. When you got here, at least three people were killed by the circle, two of which were non-human.”

Her eyes widened. “I had no idea… I thought everyone knew to stand clear when it dialed.”

Lynsie sensed her sincerity and honest confusion as well as… someone else who existed where the stranger stood, but didn’t control the words. This – other – felt many of the same emotions as the captive before her, but it had a different perspective on the situation. This puzzled the half-breed; never before had she encountered two beings in the same physical space. “There’s another mind where you are,” she blurted out.

The prisoner looked to the taller alien, surprise scribbled all over her face. “Yeah… So?”

This took Lynsie aback. “So what is it?”

She shrugged and dipped her head, kind of like an over-exaggerated nod. When her head came back up, her voice was deeper and echoed slightly. “Let it suffice to say that I am another life form which has probably not been encountered on this world."

Just thought I'd chime in here with my three quotes of the day.

Quote of the day:

1) (from W's discussion of "Cask of Amontillado") "'You stink!' 'That's death!'"

2) "You can do what you have to do, and sometimes you can do it even better than you think you can." -Jimmy Carter

3) "Being a Tok'ra host is kinda like sitting next to a person on the bus. You can listen to what they say, but you can look out the window instead. And they can get your attention a number of ways from tapping your shoulder to elbowing you in the side. They can also whisper to themselves or scream in your ear, as can you." -Sarah Anderson, 2004 (this signifies that it is a quote of a fictional figure)

Question of the day: Why didn't that study guide for the history test correspond to the test itself?

Ted's question #17: Why am I abandoned down here? Shouldn't you be fawning over me, adoring my every move?

Reeses progress report: I almost forgot. No progress on anything. Sorry.

Quote of the day: "'Lethargic Major General.' Is that a rank or something?"

Question of the day: See above. After all, I am quoting me.

Ted's question #16: Will you let me out of the room yet? I'm getting tired of being in here with you.

Reeses progress report: Uh, no progress on Reeses, but I am making headway in what I'm calling "CCW"--my story for biology class. I actually got about three paragraphs written since last night...

Quote of the day: "Words make up your thoughts. Limited vocabularies produce limited thoughts." (It's pretty bad when you have to resort to the TODs in biology class! Better luck other days!"

Question of the day: Why can't American history just go to the fiery stomachs of the demons that patrol the underworld, impose its torture on those who have already experienced their mistakes?

Ted's question #15: Why are you ignoring me again? If you keep that up, I'm going to leave! Alright, that's it; I'm gone. Are you going to play with me now?

Reeses progress report: I went to look up my notes to myself in Reeses on how To Be should end, but when I flipped through the pages, I couldn't find any. Nonetheless, I shall endeavor to complete the prequil before the end of the school year.

(I kind of forgot a quote of the day last time, didn't I? Whoops!)

Quote of the day: "Did you ever get the feeling you have your own personal poltergeist?""Yeah, his name's Michael and he's my brother!"

Question of the day: Why did I just become uninspired to write more of To Be? :(

Ted's question #14: Why won't you just let me up on your lap?

Reeses progress report: Well, I haven't been working on Reeses, but I've gotten re-inspired to continue To Be, so I guess that's the next best thing. I guess we'll all soon know what happened those ten years before Reeses that allowed the events in that book to occur. Where I left off, it could be that ten years later, Sarah is dead from a staff weapon blast she received only thirty hours after becoming a Tok'ra, so I need to make that a very distant, nonexistant possibility. And off I go to do just that... Or finish reading tonight's Odyssey assignment...

Quote of the day:

Question of the day: Why are some people so rude to reverse trick-or-treaters? I mean, it's not like we're trying to steal all the candy from the little kids or like we're trying to poison people; we're just giving away candy and info about our church!

#2: Why can't we have 20th century history instead of American history? Or Biblical history instead?

Ted's question #14: Why didn't you give me any of that reverse trick-or-treating candy you would have had left? I wouldn't have been rude in accepting it!

Reeses progress report: Well.... heh, heh... you see, it's like this: I've been really busy since the beginning of the school year. I barely have time to write. Now that everything's settling down a little bit, I need to work on writing my biology story. I have read requests from two people today asking me to continue the following: SGMIB, the Announcement, To Be, Reeses, and, I think, the Lotaur along with what I have to do for school, so just bear with me until everything settles down a bit more.

Quote of the day: Alas, again I have two, but one has misplaced itself. The other: "I'm going to fast forward [the stuff on the chalk board]."

Question of the day: Why is it that I can only think of great questions when I'm not doing this?

Ted's question #13: C'mon, aren't you going to give me some chocolate?

Reeses progress report: ...See yesterday. I'm working on the Announcement right now, and I've got a few ideas for it. If you're not content with that and vinnet.blogspot, you're up a creek. New people might be writing on vinnet.b soon, so it may not be updated this weekend.

Is it possible to get up on the wrong side of the bed? Let's see.

For the past couple weeks, I've been getting up on the left side of the bed. My mornings were half-decent, but I got tired around fourth and eighth, and I was not in good spirits in the afternoons.

This week, I've been getting up on the right side of the bed. My mornings have been pretty bad, but I was more awake during the day, and I was in fairly good spirits in the afternoon.

Moral of the story: don't get out of bed.

Okay I actually have two quotes of the day:
1. "What's chronic""Like, chronic."-Classmate and Mr. Garrich
2. "I'm working on working"-different classmate in honor's class

Question of the day: Why is there so little time for all the stuff I want to write?

Ted's question #12: Why do you keep ignoring me...?!

Reeses progress report: One word: backslide. (That is a word, right?) Anyway, I have to work on my biology project story for a while, which is due in January. I promise I will not give up on Reeses. To sustain your need for Sarah/Vinnet fics, go back to Reeses, click on binksbabe2001, and click on a thing called The Announcement. You've probably already read most of it, but you might be interested in the last bit. I have been encouraged to continue this and add in some schitzophrenic jokes. :)

Oh, and if you want to read what I was going to post, you have to go to www.fanfiction.net/~binksbabe2001 and click on the announcement.

One more day and I'll post; there are either three or four tests tomorrow. (Biology, Al2, German, and US History)

Quote of the day: Junk. I forgot.

Question of the day: Why would anyone who doesn't care deeply about plants study or want to know about anthocyan?

Ted's question #11: How come you stepped on my toes? They hurt enough as is!
Ted, don't walk under me and I won't step on you.

Reeses progress report: I need to remember the meaning of life (write it down) so that I can remember my solution to Reeses. I know one thing for sure: it's going to take some editing of previous chapters to get it worked out.

Nothing new here but some more stuff on the story about revealing the Tok'ra to post tomorrow. (I'm waiting until then in the hopes that I'll be able to wrtie some more in TMP.)

Quote of the day: "When making a decision, if you feel any doubt about it, don't do it." -Mr. Garrich

Question of the day: Isn't that quote completely wrong? It should say, "When making a decision, if you feel any doubt about it, pray."

Ted's question #10: Why can't you feed me any earlier than a quarter after seven?

Reeses progress report: I think I found a solution to my problem. If I find some time and hear any encouraging remarks about it, I'll start back on it. (But it may still have to wait until I'm done with SRU and the Halloween party.)

Hasn't everyone been having so much fun with my little stories. I forgot to say that the one right after this is rated, um, say, G, maybe? even though you might want to be able to think when you read it and tell me what you think. *hint**hint* There's a bunch of spoilers for Reeses and To Be, but if you don't mind knowing what life is going to be like after Reeses, go ahead and read it. Who knows? This might get added onto the end...

So, on with the boring, routine stuff.

Quote of the day: "Whatever you have read in the press, depending on what it is, is either true or not true." -Amanda Tapping

Question of the day: And Tapping's supposed to be the smart person on the team who knows what she's talking about?

Ted's question #9: What reason have you for kicking me out of your room for half the day?

Reeses progress report: none.

The news was boring and negative, but Sarah forced herself to pay attention; she had heard that the president was going to make a speech and decided to watch it since his decisions so often affected the SGC, and therefore, her life. The reporters repeatedly commented on how no one knew what the president was going to talk about, so it was a good opportunity for him to reveal a national secret or say “thanks for electing me” at a moment’s notice.

Finally, the screen switched to the podium where he would speak. Several people stood back behind it, one of which Vinnet recognized: the Supreme Councilor of the Tok’ra High Council, dressed in his long, green robes.

Sarah allowed her symbiote to take over. Vinnet then called out to the other person in the house.

“But I’m doing my homework; I can’t come right now,” Matt replied.

“You are going to want to see this.”

The teen trotted into the room, glad to have an excuse for procrastination—from Vinnet even!

As Matt sat down on the couch, the president began his speech. “For the past fifty years, there have been millions of reports of UFO sightings as well as plenty of media broadcasts that present any manner of theories about visitors from other planets.” At this point, an impenetrable hush seemed to fall across the whole nation. “Since 1998, some of these might have been true. In that year, we contacted an advanced extraterrestrial organization that has since visited Earth a number of times.

“Myths about extraterrestrials have long since gotten out of hand, and I think it’s about time that the citizens of the United States be told the truth. And why should they not hear it from a Tok’ra himself?”

The president moved away from the podium, allowing the Tok’ra to come forward and speak. In the few moments it took them to exchange places, a flood of questions invaded Vinnet’s mind, not the least of all being a query of why the Tok’ra dared to send a high councilor to Earth. The planet was peaceful compared to some, but it was no less dangerous.

“I am Supreme Councilor Per’sus and I wish to thank the United States for the opportunity to allow me to come and speak to you. Over the past few years, we have had a friendship that has allowed us to acquire many supplies that are in short supply for us.” “I look forward to a continuation of our partnership and friendship.”

The screen switched back to the reporters in the studio, showing two faces that were stunned at the man’s strange voice and manner. After a few seconds, the reporter, Vanessa Angel, recovered. “Remember that Channel 59 Action News brought this to you fir—”

Matt stretched forward to press the mute button. “That was interesting.”

Vinnet finally came out of her own state of shock. “Indeed.”

“Does that mean I can tell my friends about you?”

“No.”

*The next day*

At two o’clock in the afternoon, none of the schools in the area had let out, and Sarah rarely received visitors anyway. Nonetheless, the doorbell rang. She cracked the door open to see who had come calling only to be greeted by the shining face of a reporter.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Vanessa Angel from Channel 59 Action News. Could I have a moment of your time?”

Sarah raised her eyebrows and pretended like she was innocent of anything they might accuse her of. She put on her best smile and replied, “Why sure; what can I do for you?”

“May we come in?”

“Of course.” She allowed the reporter and cameraman to tread into her house, even though Vinnet was practically screaming at her to get them out.

Once everyone had had a seat on the somewhat comfortable couch and chairs just inside the door, Vanessa began. “Now, Miss Anderson, we have heard that you are one of the aliens that the president talked about last night in his speech.”

The Tok’ra, still smiling but with a slightly confused look, answered delightfully, “No, you must be mistaken; I can’t be one. If you didn’t notice, High Commander what’s-his-name had some weird voice, but I don’t.”

“Supreme Councilor Per’sus,” the reporter corrected automatically. “I thought we had a very reliable source. So tell me what you know of these Tok’ra.”

“Well, the SCI FI Channel had a special on them last night. It said that they were from some planet in the Alpha Centauri system named Pangar.” The mention of the queen Tok’ra’s death world sent shivers through Vinnet, having the same “person walking over your grave” feeling for Sarah. “It said that they have the power to heal most illnesses, but they have to have chlorophyll in their bloodstreams to do it.” Telling so many absurd lies, it was hard for Sarah to keep herself from laughing. Her hope was that the news anchor wouldn’t believe a word she said, but instead, Angel was hanging on every word from her mouth.

“How does the chlorophyll affect their healing abilities?”

“You know, they really didn’t say. Here, if you come back in half an hour, I can see what more I can remember, okay?”

Angel nodded reluctantly before leaving.

As soon as they were gone, she rushed to the phone and dialed the number for the SGC. Soon, she was talking to General Hammond.

“This is Sarah Anderson. I just had some reporters come knocking on my door, asking for information about the Tok’ra.”

She could imagine the general frowning and thinking the situation over. “What did you tell them?”

“I don’t know, some story about chlorophyll making them able to heal people.”

He sighed. “The president decided to release information about the Tok’ra only. And nothing that could put anyone in danger because of the Goa’uld threat. Most of it’s on a need-to-know basis. Nothing about the gate is to be released.”

“But why?”

“The High Council decided that they needed more hosts than you could provide with limits on your descriptions of being a Tok’ra, so they asked us to release information to make your job easier.”

“Oh,” she replied. “So, basically, Vinnet’s allowed to talk now, and she knows what to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, sir, from both of us.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two hung up simultaneously and host and symbiote stood ready for the return of the reporter.

**Twenty-two minutes later**

Sarah sat in her same seat as earlier, as did the reporter and cameraman. Angel looked up. “Please tell us more about the chlorophyll as it relates to their healing ability.”

She allowed herself to laugh this time. “Chlorophyll has nothing to do with anything. Not much is actually known about how a Tok’ra heals. A person does have to have na— a certain metal in his or her blood to be able to work a healing device.”

“Can you show us one?”

Sarah shook her head. “There’s only one or two on the planet, and I really don’t need one.”

“I’m confused by your answer earlier. Are you or are you not a Tok’ra?”

Sarah took a breath. It was against any Tok’ra’s nature to reveal themselves to anyone other than another Tok’ra. Her own parents had never heard a word about the aliens from her. “I am.”

The seemingly rock-solid Angel seemed to tense up at this, as did the cameraman. “You…” She cleared her throat. “You mentioned earlier that you didn’t have the strange voice that the Supreme Councilor had. Could you explain this?”

She swallowed. “Yeah, sure… Well, let me start this way: I’m actually human. I was born in the United States and was a perfectly normal kid for most of my childhood.” She paused. It was so much easier to just let one of the other Tok’ra explain! “Here, I’m going to let the actual alien talk to you, okay?”

Angel appeared surprised by this. “I thought you said you were an alien.”

“No, I said that I’m a Tok’ra, not an alien. That doesn’t make sense to you, but there is a difference.” She closed her eyes so that the others would not be alarmed by their Goa’uld-ish flash and allowed Vinnet to finally speak.

“To answer your question, Per’sus neglected to inform you that a Tok’ra symbiote must have a host to survive.” She paused; the reporter’s eyes had widened and she looked surprised. “There is no reason to be alarmed; I will have Sarah as my host for the next one hundred years at least.”

Vanessa finally came out of her stage of complete shock. “Um, what does a symbiote do?”

Vinnet, having been met with mostly fear, let Sarah talk again. She was better suited to answer that question anyway. “Well, a symbiote can heal a lot of ailments as long as they’re not too serious. And… it’s nice for company when you’re lonely. They are sentient beings that think and feel and have emotions.”

The reporter glanced around, still nervous. “How long have you lived on Earth?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’ve lived on Earth my whole life, but my symbiote’s only lived here for about ten years.”

Her eyes widened. “That long? Are there many Tok’ra living on Earth?”

She thought for a moment. “Actually, I think I’m the only one.”

“Why is that?”

Sarah frowned. That was one of the questions Vinnet did not want her to answer in full. If the president wanted to introduce the Goa’uld, he would have done it during his speech the previous evening. “Well, why would you need Americans living on a Tok’ra planet?” Besides that they could be hosts, of course, but I’ve scared these poor people too much already. The US wasn’t quite ready for the news.

“Why do you think the president waited so long before introducing the Tok’ra?”

She shrugged. “Tell me, and be honest, how much of this are you actually believing?”

“Are you trying to suggest this is a national joke?”

“I wish it was. That way, I could just go on living my life and not be bothered by the hoard of reporters that are bound to follow you.”

At that moment, the door opened, and Matt stood in the entranceway, flabbergasted. “Sarah, reporters?”

She nodded, rolled her eyes, and motioned to him to come in. “I called. They said that Vinnet could talk to them. I’ll explain later, but this means that you might be able to visit your mom more often and vice versa.”

He smiled, thinking of the Tok’ra host. “Cool.”

As he walked toward the kitchen, Angel called, “I’d like to have a few words with you, too.”

He reluctantly came back and sat beside Sarah, who leaned over and whispered, “Careful what you say. Try to keep it limited. Remember: they haven’t revealed the Stargate or Goa’uld and we can’t jeopardize Tok’ra security.”

He nodded in time for Vanessa’s first question: “Are you an alien also?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“How long have you known about the Tok’ra?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know; haven’t been paying attention.” Sarah smiled at his short, non-descriptive answers.

“What was your first reaction when you found out about aliens?”

He thought back for a moment to when his mom had left the house one night when she had cancer. Sarah had come over one day and brought him here, where they were zatted and taken away. “I didn’t believe her.”

“What happened since?”

One of his eyebrows floated skyward. “I moved here and then went to school like I always do.”

“What is Miss Anderson’s relationship to you?”

He looked to Sarah, who answered, “Guardian.”

“What happened to his mother?”

Sarah shrugged. “She got cancer and isn’t living here anymore.” Before the reporter could ask anything else, the phone rang. Matt got it and appeared with the phone in his hand, indicating that it wasn’t for him. Sarah quickly showed the reporter to the door then grabbed the phone from him. “Hello?”

“Hi, Sarah,” her dad’s voice replied. “Did you see the news last night?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t that interesting? Here, why don’t you come over?”

**A short time later…**

Sarah sat beside her dad while Matt was off doing homework.

“Is something wrong? You don’t usually ask me to come over,” he asked.

She sighed, knowing that the moment was upon her that she had been waiting for since she blended with Vinnet. “Well, nothing’s really wrong. I just wanted to know what you think about what the president had to say.”

He shrugged. “It’s about time someone admitted that there’s extraterrestrial life, but that high commander guy looks a little too human to be an extraterrestrial.”

She nodded. “Well, who said extraterrestrials couldn’t be human?”

He looked at her with disbelief. “Are you saying that it’s possible that the same exact life form could evolve to be exactly the same on two different planets that have only had contact for a few years?”

“Yes and no.”

“Explain.”

“I would if I could, but I can’t.” She frowned. Vinnet encouraged her to continue; after all, she had talked about revealing her job to her father for a long while, and now was her chance. “So, Dad, what did you think about Supreme Councilor Per’sus?”

He smiled. “He’s got a weird voice, and he was quite short on details of any Tok’ra-Earth partnership.”

She nodded. “There isn’t much to say.”

“You sound like you know exactly what he’s talking about.”

Shrugging, she answered, “They have technology we want, and we have resources that they need.”

One of his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really? Sarah, there’s something you’re not telling me; there is no way you could know that when the president just said ‘hi, meet the aliens.’”

She swallowed and took another deep breath. She looked down at her hands and began fiddling with a ring. “Dad, you remember when I got kidnapped?” She continued at his questioning nod. “You know how I haven’t been able to tell you about my job?” He nodded and set a look of concern on his face, so she launched into her story about being kidnapped by “bad guys,” becoming a Tok’ra, and coming back to Earth. “The Tok’ra need hosts to survive, and they have an incredible ability to heal their hosts. So what I do is,” she explained, speaking slowly, “I find people with terminal illnesses who would die anyway, and help them become Tok’ra.”

They sat in silence for a minute until Matt came in with his Algebra 2 book in hand. “Sorry to break in, but could you help me with my homework?”

Sarah let Vinnet come out since she still had to think about what she just said. “Matt, do you not have any other homework that you can work on until we a finished here?” Her otherworldly voice caught Sarah’s father off guard, but Matt was just slightly surprised that Vinnet was talking while someone else was in the house.

“Uh, sure, I guess I can, but I was hoping to get math done…”

“It can wait until later, correct?”

He nodded and made his way back to work on other stuff.

Sarah’s father looked over at his daughter, but could not understand the voice or anything. “Sarah?”

She shook her head. “No, I am Vinnet.

***
By the way, if you missed all the little jokes, here they are:
Vanessa Angel is the actress who plays one of the Tok’ra who are frequently on the show.
Where I live, there is no Channel 59 Action News; 59 is the SCI FI Channel.

I see additions to this in the future. I hope you enjoyed it.