To those with a distinct dislike of science fiction *cough*Kelli*cough*:
See post from July 9th, 2003.
Science fiction allows the author to create a perfect environment for the message that he or she wishes to communicate via an entertainment item to the reader, which happens to fulfill criteria for utilitarianism, upon which much of our culture is based. This is possible in very few other genres. Historical fiction may present errors of the past, but those may appear trite and overused as well as containing myriad variables, which are often limited in science fiction. Romance offers only advice or moral related to relationships, as is the very premise of the genre. Science fiction can present novel ideas that teach a lesson. (Ex. Dune.)
Science fiction also allows the author to incorporate most other genres. For example, you could have a historical event changed, which would lead to this effect in the future. Since that often deals with scientific predictions, it could be considered science fiction. You could have science fiction romance like in Stargate, where Daniel Jackson's extraterrerestrial (human) wife is killed, and he risks all to revive her in a life-giving machine. You could have a science fiction mystery crime, science fiction horror (quite popular in the early 90's), or inspirational or spiritual science fiction like City of Dreams. Science fiction is almost an add-on to any possible genre on the face of the planet.
The vast terminology associated with science fiction is really no different than the vast terminology incorporated into, say, crime novels or TV shows like "West Wing." It names scientific theories that people have been thinking up since the scientific revolution in the 1800s. Wormholes have been soundly considered, as have faster-than-light travel, often known as "hyperspeed" or "warp speed." It allows for an almost acedemic kind of entertainment, forcing able viewers or readers to expand their minds and consider new possibilities, a main point in most Star Trek series and many grade B movies.
I think an underlying fear for many who are hesitant about joining this hundred-year-old craze is that many of the ideas courted by science fiction might interfere or contradict religion. Maybe they do. But then again, how weak minded do you have to be to worry about some kind of entertainment challenging your religion? If you whole-heartedly believe what you do, sit back and enjoy the show! (You might have a chance of putting down other religions. While I'm not officially suggesting that everyone should go out and do that, I know that mine is the right one and everyone else is, well, wrong. If you have a bone to pick with me about it, they sell bones at Wal-Mart. Pick one up and pick away.)
Science fiction explores possibilites that are not possible in other genres while incorporating those genres into it. In truth, science fiction probably shouldn't even be a genre! Merely describing a movie as science fiction does not tell you much about it, as romance might. It just says that the movie probably incorporates a higher level of technology into the setting. Wow. Setting. Such an important part of the movie to base assumptions on, Kelli! Are you not going to go see a movie because it takes place in the woods or in a big city or in a desert? I don't think so.
In short, any prejudices against science fiction are absurd. For more information about the infallibilities of bias, check out Hot Pink at http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1537310.
Remember: if you think science fiction is stupid, you're probably not (yet) at a level where you have the capacity to understand it. I like to recall that I'm not completely incapable of higher academic writing, and I grew up reading mostly science fiction.
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Another piece of literature, posted for Mara Jade and her bad day. (Mara Jade, there's more today!)
Veronika dug through a pile of papers in a small house in Colorado. The people who had hired her said that the owner wouldn't be returning and that the house needed to be cleaned to be put on the market. So she found herself sorting through a deep stack of papers. Another fifteen pages of names and addresses shoved off to the side and she saw a worn, blue journal.
Since she suspected that the owner had died and therefore, wouldn't mind, Veronika cracked open the plain, scuffed cover to reveal the first lined page, filled with a dizzying amount of small, complex squiggles and lines that must have been some language, but she couldn't identify it.
Checking to make sure she was alone, Veronika slipped the journal into her purse. Whatever it was, it might be interesting, and she'd bet good money that her friends at the Denver university of Would Culture could tell her.
*-*-*-*-*
"Dan!" Veronika called as she hurried down the university hall to her friend.
One of the men walking down the corridor turned around and smiled. "Roni, long time, no see. What's up?"
Walking beside him, she pulled the journal from her purse. "I was wondering if you could tell me what language this is."
"Sure." Dan Strauss gently took the small book in his hands and carefully opened it then stopped walking, staring at the strange marks. "Uh," he muttered, engrossed in the apparently foreign literature, "you want to let me in on any details? May I use a lifeline?"
She smiled. "I don't really know anything about her, but everything else in the house was written in English."
"Then maybe this is still English with some strange code substituted in," Dan suggested.
"So you can solve it?" Hope filled her voice as if the journal might hold the secrets of the universe.
He shrugged. "Might. Mind if I make a copy?"
*-*-*-*-*
A week. An entire seven days to determine that the journal's script didn't match any known script on Earth: ancient, modern, or otherwise. He stared down at his copy of the first page with his head in his hands. The longer he stared, the more he noticed that one particularly dark symbol recurred many times on that page. It kind of looked like a rounded x that didn't touch in the middle. Another appeared to be an upside down t and another an upside-down a.
After figuring out all those symbols, he noted that some looked to be backwards. Another seven deciphered symbols...
*-*-*-*-*
It took Dan another week to decipher the remaining symbols for a total of twenty-four different marks, but after a quick run to the campus library, he met Veronika at a local Burger King.
"It's intriguing; each symbol corresponds to a letter in the alphabet and displays the same distinct characteristics as that letter," he explained, an absurdly large grin growing on his face.
"And?" Veronika prompted. "What does it say?"
He looked down at portion of his decryption. " 'Natoru jeta Sarah Anderson.' "
She stared. "So it is another language."
"Egyptian. Ancient Egyptian, but it doesn't match very well with An Egyptian Hieroglyphic Dictionary; all the vowels are off."
"Can you still read it?" She leaned forward in her seat, munching a fry.
"Yes, but it's going to take some time," he answered. "And can I have a copy of the next two pages?"
She nodded. "Of course."
*-*-*-*-*
Almost a month later, the two once again met at Burger King, in an isolated back corner that, despite having as many windows as the rest of the building, managed to remain fairly dark.
"Now, this is odd," Dan said. "The first sentence is in English, but the rest is in ancient Egyptian with English and some unidentifiable words every here and there."
"That's strange. So what's it say?"
He looked down at his notes. " 'The personal journal of Sarah Anderson, written in 2013.' "
"As opposed to what? A public journal?" Veronika interrupted.
"Maybe. It continues, 'I have encrypted this account in my code and... go-oold... for a couple of reasons.' "
"At least she tells you why you had to work so hard," Veronika pointed out.
Dan nodded. " 'For one, much of the information mentioned here is classified--' "
"Classified!" his friend repeated. "You mean this is top secret stuff?"
"Yeah. Just listen: 'though I learned much of it about a month after I turned fourteen.' "
Her eyes widened. "Fourteen? So she basically grew up on this classified information. I wonder how..."
"It gets better. 'Besides, this information could be enough to lead to the destruction of my home planets. I use the--' "
Veronika's eyes widened again. "But if she's from Earth and that could lead to the destruction of her home planet, then... But... Wait a minute, is she even from Earth?"
Dan sighed. "Will you just listen?" His friend nodded earnestly. "It says, 'I use the plural for the simple reason that I can mean more than one.' " Veronika's face scrunched up in confusion, but she remained quiet. " 'Both of the antecedents included in this use of I are from different--' listen to this: 'species, organizations, planets, centuries, and backgrounds. However, no matter how different we may seem, we have things in common. We both live within a boundary, which I call my skin.' "
The two remained silent for a bit before Veronika exclaimed, "Ew! So she's got a time-travelling alien inside her?"
"Apparently."
"No wonder she's dead."
"She might not be."
"How do you know?"
"I don't," he answered. "It's just a guess. Should I continue?" She nodded enthusiastically, suddenly even more interested in her find than she had been at first. " 'Admittedly, it was strange at first, but now, ten years after we met, I'm quite used to it.' "
"Aliens have been on Earth for the past ten years and hardly no one suspects it anymore?"
He shrugged. " 'Vinnet, on the other hand, is still adjusting to the circumstances under which we live. For hundreds of our years--' "
"Hundreds?" Veronika repeated.
"Yes, hundreds," Dan replied. "That's what it says. 'For hundreds of our years, she could speak whenever she wished, but now her free speech has been curtailed for the benefit of others. She may say whatever she wants, but she often refrains. I find it strange that we live in a land where everyone supposedly has a right to free speech, yet everyone does not encompass every sentient being but every human being, which Vinnet is not.' "
"Hmm. That's interesting."
"It gets better. 'Already, I have mentioned secrets that have been kept for good reasons. If anyone decodes this before the Stargate program becomes public knowledge, I've made the biggest mistake of my life.' "
"Stargate program? Have you ever heard of it?"
"Nope. So this is apparently the biggest mistake of her life." He looked to his notes again. " 'If this isn't my biggest mistake, you might as well read it; I won't be around to fret.' "
"Maybe we shouldn't read any more," Veronika suggested. "If this is all classified and this Sarah Anderson or the government finds out, what are we going to do?"
"We read on, see if we can be of any assistance to them. I mean, she obviously didn't thing anyone would decode that. We may have some redeeming qualities."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"I'm bigger and more intimidating, as well as smarter and more handsome, than a cat."
"Yeah, Tybalt, brains and brawn gonna keep you from the law?"
"Sure. So may I continue, oh, Great Worry Wort?" he joked. She rolled her eyes and nodded reluctantly. " 'Now, where to begin?' "
"Right where you left off, smartie."
"No, that's what it says."
"Oh."
" 'I, meaning Sarah Anderson only, have the pleasure of knowing that some would say I'm of the... Tow-rii... The word, of which the adjective is Terran, comes from the Latin word terra, meaning earth. Therefore, Towrii are the people from the firstworld, Earth.' "
"Bit of an English buff, huh?"
He nodded. " 'All that really matters only if someone is trying to make a distinction among humans based on where they are from, which would also communicate the level or kind of technology involved, what they believe, and, most importantly, whether it is safe to go to their planet. No, I take it back. All that really matters only in reference to Earth, which, as others have said, is not the center of the political universe, as we tend to think.' "
"We know that."
"I think she's speaking metaphorically. 'No, all that matters mostly in reference to the Go-oold definition of Towrii: pesky humans from a protected planet with primative but effective weaponry, and who won't buy into Go-oold enslavement tactics anymore, the worthless pieces of scum. But understand that that is their interpretation, not mine.' "
"That's interesting. What's it say next?"
"That's all I've got translated."
"You had a month!"
"But it's like having an English to Russian dictionary to translate Russian words in the Greek alphabet. It takes time. I was lucky to get so much done."
Veronika dug through a pile of papers in a small house in Colorado. The people who had hired her said that the owner wouldn't be returning and that the house needed to be cleaned to be put on the market. So she found herself sorting through a deep stack of papers. Another fifteen pages of names and addresses shoved off to the side and she saw a worn, blue journal.
Since she suspected that the owner had died and therefore, wouldn't mind, Veronika cracked open the plain, scuffed cover to reveal the first lined page, filled with a dizzying amount of small, complex squiggles and lines that must have been some language, but she couldn't identify it.
Checking to make sure she was alone, Veronika slipped the journal into her purse. Whatever it was, it might be interesting, and she'd bet good money that her friends at the Denver university of Would Culture could tell her.
*-*-*-*-*
"Dan!" Veronika called as she hurried down the university hall to her friend.
One of the men walking down the corridor turned around and smiled. "Roni, long time, no see. What's up?"
Walking beside him, she pulled the journal from her purse. "I was wondering if you could tell me what language this is."
"Sure." Dan Strauss gently took the small book in his hands and carefully opened it then stopped walking, staring at the strange marks. "Uh," he muttered, engrossed in the apparently foreign literature, "you want to let me in on any details? May I use a lifeline?"
She smiled. "I don't really know anything about her, but everything else in the house was written in English."
"Then maybe this is still English with some strange code substituted in," Dan suggested.
"So you can solve it?" Hope filled her voice as if the journal might hold the secrets of the universe.
He shrugged. "Might. Mind if I make a copy?"
*-*-*-*-*
A week. An entire seven days to determine that the journal's script didn't match any known script on Earth: ancient, modern, or otherwise. He stared down at his copy of the first page with his head in his hands. The longer he stared, the more he noticed that one particularly dark symbol recurred many times on that page. It kind of looked like a rounded x that didn't touch in the middle. Another appeared to be an upside down t and another an upside-down a.
After figuring out all those symbols, he noted that some looked to be backwards. Another seven deciphered symbols...
*-*-*-*-*
It took Dan another week to decipher the remaining symbols for a total of twenty-four different marks, but after a quick run to the campus library, he met Veronika at a local Burger King.
"It's intriguing; each symbol corresponds to a letter in the alphabet and displays the same distinct characteristics as that letter," he explained, an absurdly large grin growing on his face.
"And?" Veronika prompted. "What does it say?"
He looked down at portion of his decryption. " 'Natoru jeta Sarah Anderson.' "
She stared. "So it is another language."
"Egyptian. Ancient Egyptian, but it doesn't match very well with An Egyptian Hieroglyphic Dictionary; all the vowels are off."
"Can you still read it?" She leaned forward in her seat, munching a fry.
"Yes, but it's going to take some time," he answered. "And can I have a copy of the next two pages?"
She nodded. "Of course."
*-*-*-*-*
Almost a month later, the two once again met at Burger King, in an isolated back corner that, despite having as many windows as the rest of the building, managed to remain fairly dark.
"Now, this is odd," Dan said. "The first sentence is in English, but the rest is in ancient Egyptian with English and some unidentifiable words every here and there."
"That's strange. So what's it say?"
He looked down at his notes. " 'The personal journal of Sarah Anderson, written in 2013.' "
"As opposed to what? A public journal?" Veronika interrupted.
"Maybe. It continues, 'I have encrypted this account in my code and... go-oold... for a couple of reasons.' "
"At least she tells you why you had to work so hard," Veronika pointed out.
Dan nodded. " 'For one, much of the information mentioned here is classified--' "
"Classified!" his friend repeated. "You mean this is top secret stuff?"
"Yeah. Just listen: 'though I learned much of it about a month after I turned fourteen.' "
Her eyes widened. "Fourteen? So she basically grew up on this classified information. I wonder how..."
"It gets better. 'Besides, this information could be enough to lead to the destruction of my home planets. I use the--' "
Veronika's eyes widened again. "But if she's from Earth and that could lead to the destruction of her home planet, then... But... Wait a minute, is she even from Earth?"
Dan sighed. "Will you just listen?" His friend nodded earnestly. "It says, 'I use the plural for the simple reason that I can mean more than one.' " Veronika's face scrunched up in confusion, but she remained quiet. " 'Both of the antecedents included in this use of I are from different--' listen to this: 'species, organizations, planets, centuries, and backgrounds. However, no matter how different we may seem, we have things in common. We both live within a boundary, which I call my skin.' "
The two remained silent for a bit before Veronika exclaimed, "Ew! So she's got a time-travelling alien inside her?"
"Apparently."
"No wonder she's dead."
"She might not be."
"How do you know?"
"I don't," he answered. "It's just a guess. Should I continue?" She nodded enthusiastically, suddenly even more interested in her find than she had been at first. " 'Admittedly, it was strange at first, but now, ten years after we met, I'm quite used to it.' "
"Aliens have been on Earth for the past ten years and hardly no one suspects it anymore?"
He shrugged. " 'Vinnet, on the other hand, is still adjusting to the circumstances under which we live. For hundreds of our years--' "
"Hundreds?" Veronika repeated.
"Yes, hundreds," Dan replied. "That's what it says. 'For hundreds of our years, she could speak whenever she wished, but now her free speech has been curtailed for the benefit of others. She may say whatever she wants, but she often refrains. I find it strange that we live in a land where everyone supposedly has a right to free speech, yet everyone does not encompass every sentient being but every human being, which Vinnet is not.' "
"Hmm. That's interesting."
"It gets better. 'Already, I have mentioned secrets that have been kept for good reasons. If anyone decodes this before the Stargate program becomes public knowledge, I've made the biggest mistake of my life.' "
"Stargate program? Have you ever heard of it?"
"Nope. So this is apparently the biggest mistake of her life." He looked to his notes again. " 'If this isn't my biggest mistake, you might as well read it; I won't be around to fret.' "
"Maybe we shouldn't read any more," Veronika suggested. "If this is all classified and this Sarah Anderson or the government finds out, what are we going to do?"
"We read on, see if we can be of any assistance to them. I mean, she obviously didn't thing anyone would decode that. We may have some redeeming qualities."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"I'm bigger and more intimidating, as well as smarter and more handsome, than a cat."
"Yeah, Tybalt, brains and brawn gonna keep you from the law?"
"Sure. So may I continue, oh, Great Worry Wort?" he joked. She rolled her eyes and nodded reluctantly. " 'Now, where to begin?' "
"Right where you left off, smartie."
"No, that's what it says."
"Oh."
" 'I, meaning Sarah Anderson only, have the pleasure of knowing that some would say I'm of the... Tow-rii... The word, of which the adjective is Terran, comes from the Latin word terra, meaning earth. Therefore, Towrii are the people from the firstworld, Earth.' "
"Bit of an English buff, huh?"
He nodded. " 'All that really matters only if someone is trying to make a distinction among humans based on where they are from, which would also communicate the level or kind of technology involved, what they believe, and, most importantly, whether it is safe to go to their planet. No, I take it back. All that really matters only in reference to Earth, which, as others have said, is not the center of the political universe, as we tend to think.' "
"We know that."
"I think she's speaking metaphorically. 'No, all that matters mostly in reference to the Go-oold definition of Towrii: pesky humans from a protected planet with primative but effective weaponry, and who won't buy into Go-oold enslavement tactics anymore, the worthless pieces of scum. But understand that that is their interpretation, not mine.' "
"That's interesting. What's it say next?"
"That's all I've got translated."
"You had a month!"
"But it's like having an English to Russian dictionary to translate Russian words in the Greek alphabet. It takes time. I was lucky to get so much done."
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Also for Mara Jade's bad day:
Father, Where Art Thou VI
Jack lay on a comfortable old tan couch in his apartment, drinking his new beverage of choice, Dr. Pepper, and waiting patiently for once for the six o’clock episode of the Simpsons to begin. Just before the credits of the 5:30 episode started, his doorbell rang.
He quickly glanced around the many empty soda cans gathered on a plain black coffee table then decided that anyone who might visit him would know him well enough to excuse that mess. As he heaved himself off the couch, he once again thanked Loki that he didn’t have to bother with knee problems for another—what was it—twenty-seven years.
He cracked open the white door to his apartment to find the senselessly smiling face of Zack. Not particularly thrilled by this visitor, he leaned against the doorjamb, half expecting the sophomore to propose some under the table deal with the NID… or the Geeks for Peace Corps.
“Hi, Jonathan!” he chirped. When Jack didn’t answer, he explained, the absurd smile sliding from his face, “You always seemed so lonely, I thought I’d drop by and keep you company.
Jack nodded; the surprise visit had about as much appeal to him as the Tok’ra dropping by to ask for recruits for suicide missions. “I see.” After a few moments of Zack’s Jonas-like puppy-dog eyes, he added, “Fine. C’mon in.” He held the door open as the boy scooted into the place, where the nerd proceeded to observe every once of detail contained in the apartment, the walls of which appeared to be devoted to astronomy and family photos of people Zack didn’t recognize.
Jack slammed the door, pseudo-wincing at the sound, and headed back to the couch, where he took note that the first commercial break had already commenced.
Zack pointed to a picture of O’Neill, Sarah, and Charlie. “Who are they?” he questioned, extremely curious as to the true identity of this mystery man.
Jack took one look at where Zack stood and which frame he pointed to, unable to bear the actual photo, and grumbled, “Family.”
The geek looked closer. “Is that you?”
“No,” the colonel answered; he wasn’t Charlie, and even if the kid actually pointed to him, which was unlikely, he couldn’t answer yes. He glared toward the sanctuary of the television, which betrayed him, still airing only commercials.
Zack noted his newfound friend’s reaction and moved on to another framed photo, this one of SG-1 right before the big anti-Anubis campaign, when both Jonas and Daniel were at the SGC. “Who are they?”
“Some old friends.”
“How do you know them?” Zack wondered, suddenly noticing an odd similarity between the tall, gray-haired man in the center and the teenager on the couch.
“Oh, you know,” Jack answered, desperately trying to keep any bitterness out of his voice, “they’re my dad’s friends. He’s the guy in the middle.” He still belonged on that team, or at the SGC at least. He could still pilot an F-302 or glider better than anyone on Earth—except maybe his older self and Teal’c; he could still operate a P-90, zat, or staff weapon with great proficiency; and he could still lead a team off-world, granted that they knew to follow his orders. No matter what Loki might have done, he knew that he was still Colonel Jack O’Neill.
As the commercial break ended and he saw some evening news report begin, Jack leapt off the couch, furious. “You can’t just have news on instead of the Simpsons!”
Curious about this sudden outburst of rage from his normally subdued and reasonable classmate, Zack came to stand beside the couch, attention on the TV.
As Jack watched, the screen displayed a navy podium in front of a navy curtain and the White House seal. Four people stood behind the podium, arranged in such a way that they would be seen while the president spoke. Two men were obviously some government officials, cabinet members maybe, but the other two… The one on the far right wore obviously Tok’ra garb, the same kind of outfit Jacob wore when dropping by for a visit. Jack recognized the last man in long, green robes; he had seen him somewhere, but he couldn’t recall how he knew him. He watched the two for a minute, saw how the man in robes interacted with the Tok’ra. Finally, he realized that he had met him right after he was suspected to be a za’tarc. The man on the news was the Tok’ra Supreme Councilor! “Oh, for crying out—”
“Jonathan!” Zack whined, shaking him. “Are you okay?” Jack looked up at the kid, wondering what was wrong. “Did you hear me?”
“No, what?” The geek had spoken?
“I asked you what you think the president is going to talk about,” he explained, “but you didn’t hear me.”
“Well, it’s obvious he’s going to talk about—” Jack cut himself off. He couldn’t exactly tell Zack before he himself was supposed to hear about it the first time. “Whatever country the guy in the green is from,” he finished.
The scifi fan nodded, no longer as suspicious. “What about the guy with the kilt?”
“Well, it’s obvious he serves the guy in robes.”
“Think they’re from Scotland?”
Jack stared at him. “Scotland?” Tok’ra from Scotland… Now there was an idea for fan fiction… “Don’t think so.”
The two settled down as the president walked on. He glanced down at the papers on the podium then up again at the camera. “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.”
The president’s pause was just enough for Jack to snap. He again stood up from the couch and waved his hands wildly in the air. “They’re coming out with it and didn’t bother to tell me?” he yelled, frustrated that no one had told him they were going to make the Stargate public knowledge.
“Jonathan, sit down; I can’t hear,” begged Zack. The colonel complied and, extraordinarily miffed, dropped back onto the sofa.
“—that has since visited Earth a number of times,” the president continued. “Myths about extraterrestrials have long since gotten out of hand, and I think it’s about time that the citizens of the United States of America be told the truth. And why should they not hear it from a Tok’ra himself?” The white-haired president then relinquished the podium to the older, black-haired Tok’ra.
“I am Supreme Councilor Per’sus,” he began, his Goa’uld-like voice sending shivers down Jack’s spine and reminding the colonel of when they first met the Tok’ra, “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 acquired many supplies that are scarce on our planet.” He turned his head toward the president, but continued to speak into the microphones. “I look forward to a continuation of our partnership and friendship.”
After a couple seconds of watching the people disperse, a blue screen came up with the words, “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” Jack cut the power for the TV just as a yellow cartoon face appeared.
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Zack asked, “What was that when you stood up and yelled?”
Jack stared at him. “You just found out aliens exist and the first thing you ask is about something I did?”
“He said that aliens exist?” Jack would have dropped his jaw to the floor if he hadn’t seen stranger things. The sophomore’s eyes widened. “That man’s voice… It was…”
“Weird? Odd? Creepy?” the colonel supplied. “Not exactly what you want to meet in the middle of a desert with weapons aimed at you? I know.”
“But…” He studied the strange teenager again. “But you don’t seem to care.”
Jack looked around the room, pretending to make sure no one else was listening. “I was abducted by aliens,” he confessed, actually telling the truth, “about six months ago. I already know all about them.”
The geek’s eyes widened even more, though Jack had though it impossible. “Tell me!”
“They made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. Not one soul. My dog doesn’t even know about it.”
“You don’t have a dog.”
“Fine.” My wife doesn’t even know about it. “My parents don’t even know about it.”
“Yeah,” replied Zack, “where are your parents?”
“Um… They both work at night, sleep during the day. They met at a Dracula convention.”
Father, Where Art Thou VI
Jack lay on a comfortable old tan couch in his apartment, drinking his new beverage of choice, Dr. Pepper, and waiting patiently for once for the six o’clock episode of the Simpsons to begin. Just before the credits of the 5:30 episode started, his doorbell rang.
He quickly glanced around the many empty soda cans gathered on a plain black coffee table then decided that anyone who might visit him would know him well enough to excuse that mess. As he heaved himself off the couch, he once again thanked Loki that he didn’t have to bother with knee problems for another—what was it—twenty-seven years.
He cracked open the white door to his apartment to find the senselessly smiling face of Zack. Not particularly thrilled by this visitor, he leaned against the doorjamb, half expecting the sophomore to propose some under the table deal with the NID… or the Geeks for Peace Corps.
“Hi, Jonathan!” he chirped. When Jack didn’t answer, he explained, the absurd smile sliding from his face, “You always seemed so lonely, I thought I’d drop by and keep you company.
Jack nodded; the surprise visit had about as much appeal to him as the Tok’ra dropping by to ask for recruits for suicide missions. “I see.” After a few moments of Zack’s Jonas-like puppy-dog eyes, he added, “Fine. C’mon in.” He held the door open as the boy scooted into the place, where the nerd proceeded to observe every once of detail contained in the apartment, the walls of which appeared to be devoted to astronomy and family photos of people Zack didn’t recognize.
Jack slammed the door, pseudo-wincing at the sound, and headed back to the couch, where he took note that the first commercial break had already commenced.
Zack pointed to a picture of O’Neill, Sarah, and Charlie. “Who are they?” he questioned, extremely curious as to the true identity of this mystery man.
Jack took one look at where Zack stood and which frame he pointed to, unable to bear the actual photo, and grumbled, “Family.”
The geek looked closer. “Is that you?”
“No,” the colonel answered; he wasn’t Charlie, and even if the kid actually pointed to him, which was unlikely, he couldn’t answer yes. He glared toward the sanctuary of the television, which betrayed him, still airing only commercials.
Zack noted his newfound friend’s reaction and moved on to another framed photo, this one of SG-1 right before the big anti-Anubis campaign, when both Jonas and Daniel were at the SGC. “Who are they?”
“Some old friends.”
“How do you know them?” Zack wondered, suddenly noticing an odd similarity between the tall, gray-haired man in the center and the teenager on the couch.
“Oh, you know,” Jack answered, desperately trying to keep any bitterness out of his voice, “they’re my dad’s friends. He’s the guy in the middle.” He still belonged on that team, or at the SGC at least. He could still pilot an F-302 or glider better than anyone on Earth—except maybe his older self and Teal’c; he could still operate a P-90, zat, or staff weapon with great proficiency; and he could still lead a team off-world, granted that they knew to follow his orders. No matter what Loki might have done, he knew that he was still Colonel Jack O’Neill.
As the commercial break ended and he saw some evening news report begin, Jack leapt off the couch, furious. “You can’t just have news on instead of the Simpsons!”
Curious about this sudden outburst of rage from his normally subdued and reasonable classmate, Zack came to stand beside the couch, attention on the TV.
As Jack watched, the screen displayed a navy podium in front of a navy curtain and the White House seal. Four people stood behind the podium, arranged in such a way that they would be seen while the president spoke. Two men were obviously some government officials, cabinet members maybe, but the other two… The one on the far right wore obviously Tok’ra garb, the same kind of outfit Jacob wore when dropping by for a visit. Jack recognized the last man in long, green robes; he had seen him somewhere, but he couldn’t recall how he knew him. He watched the two for a minute, saw how the man in robes interacted with the Tok’ra. Finally, he realized that he had met him right after he was suspected to be a za’tarc. The man on the news was the Tok’ra Supreme Councilor! “Oh, for crying out—”
“Jonathan!” Zack whined, shaking him. “Are you okay?” Jack looked up at the kid, wondering what was wrong. “Did you hear me?”
“No, what?” The geek had spoken?
“I asked you what you think the president is going to talk about,” he explained, “but you didn’t hear me.”
“Well, it’s obvious he’s going to talk about—” Jack cut himself off. He couldn’t exactly tell Zack before he himself was supposed to hear about it the first time. “Whatever country the guy in the green is from,” he finished.
The scifi fan nodded, no longer as suspicious. “What about the guy with the kilt?”
“Well, it’s obvious he serves the guy in robes.”
“Think they’re from Scotland?”
Jack stared at him. “Scotland?” Tok’ra from Scotland… Now there was an idea for fan fiction… “Don’t think so.”
The two settled down as the president walked on. He glanced down at the papers on the podium then up again at the camera. “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.”
The president’s pause was just enough for Jack to snap. He again stood up from the couch and waved his hands wildly in the air. “They’re coming out with it and didn’t bother to tell me?” he yelled, frustrated that no one had told him they were going to make the Stargate public knowledge.
“Jonathan, sit down; I can’t hear,” begged Zack. The colonel complied and, extraordinarily miffed, dropped back onto the sofa.
“—that has since visited Earth a number of times,” the president continued. “Myths about extraterrestrials have long since gotten out of hand, and I think it’s about time that the citizens of the United States of America be told the truth. And why should they not hear it from a Tok’ra himself?” The white-haired president then relinquished the podium to the older, black-haired Tok’ra.
“I am Supreme Councilor Per’sus,” he began, his Goa’uld-like voice sending shivers down Jack’s spine and reminding the colonel of when they first met the Tok’ra, “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 acquired many supplies that are scarce on our planet.” He turned his head toward the president, but continued to speak into the microphones. “I look forward to a continuation of our partnership and friendship.”
After a couple seconds of watching the people disperse, a blue screen came up with the words, “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” Jack cut the power for the TV just as a yellow cartoon face appeared.
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Zack asked, “What was that when you stood up and yelled?”
Jack stared at him. “You just found out aliens exist and the first thing you ask is about something I did?”
“He said that aliens exist?” Jack would have dropped his jaw to the floor if he hadn’t seen stranger things. The sophomore’s eyes widened. “That man’s voice… It was…”
“Weird? Odd? Creepy?” the colonel supplied. “Not exactly what you want to meet in the middle of a desert with weapons aimed at you? I know.”
“But…” He studied the strange teenager again. “But you don’t seem to care.”
Jack looked around the room, pretending to make sure no one else was listening. “I was abducted by aliens,” he confessed, actually telling the truth, “about six months ago. I already know all about them.”
The geek’s eyes widened even more, though Jack had though it impossible. “Tell me!”
“They made me promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. Not one soul. My dog doesn’t even know about it.”
“You don’t have a dog.”
“Fine.” My wife doesn’t even know about it. “My parents don’t even know about it.”
“Yeah,” replied Zack, “where are your parents?”
“Um… They both work at night, sleep during the day. They met at a Dracula convention.”
Sunday, April 18, 2004
For all y'all who I told to come here to get your part, here you go. It's a little messed up here, but I could possibly give you the stinkin' script on paper. 'Cept for who I have in mind for Dantien and Baka, but that can't be helped.
HOT PINK: THE PLAY
Characters:
Dantien Pindar
Jess Cadyue
Janua'dar
Baka
(Everyone else) CTC/nurse/Amak
Dantien: (ent. RC x C, looks around at pinkness, horrified. Turns on heel, runs out)
(Jess & Janua ent. UL, ent. Dantien UR)
Dan (still horrified) Janua, did you see the crew cabin? (She nods, motioning to Jess) How could Baka do such a thing? And why pink, of all colors?
Jess It's a definate change from the dark blue...
Janua I vote to have Baka moved into the storage closet.
Dan I second that vote. He can start packing right now!
Jess (lowering gaze at two "mutineers") Not gonna happen. He's not going anywhere near the storage closet unless you want to chance finding spoiled rations for supper. (Dan & Jan stare grudgingly.) But I'll get him to repaint the walls. Meanwhile, why don't you sleep in the rec room?
Jan I call sleeper sofa.
Dan Why do you always get it?
Jan Because you're helping Jess land when we get there.
FLIGHT DECK. AN ALARM GOES OFF. DANTIEN TURNS IT OFF, JESS TURNS IT OFF AGAIN.
Dan It's already off.
Jess It is, isn't it? (eyelids droop; she's almost asleep)
Dan Maybe Janua would like to land us. You want to sit in a passenger's seat?
Jess Nods, collapses in passenger's seat, immediately falls asleep.
Dan Guess you are tired.
CTC Incoming ship, this is Coruscant Traffic Control. Please state your destination.
Dan Vornskr to traffic control, please hold on just a moment.
REC ROOM
Jan (sleepily) What's wrong now?
Dan Jess fell alseep; I've never flown before.
Jan You've navigated intermittantly for three years. There's no reason you can't land with Baka's help. Good night. (exit UL)
DINING HALL
Dan Baka
Baka (jumps, spins around) Yeah, what's up?
Dan You're going to get some experience in the cockpit today. You need to come up and help me land.
Baka (stares in disbelief, jaw drops) You're going to let me fly?
Dan Jess fell asleep and Jan told me to let you navigate.
Baka (enthusiastic) Let's go.
FLIGHT DECK
CTC Do you need assistance? Is there some way we can help? Hello?k
Dan (dropping into copilot's seat) Vornskr to traffic control. We're just fine now.
CTC Are you sure?
Dan Yes. We'd like to land in the palace district.
CTC (pause) Uh, transmitting landing coordinates now. Nice and easy. Have a nice day.
Dan Thanks.
Baka (begins to sit in pilot's seat) So I get to fly after all?
Dan (switches seats quickly) No.
Baka Why not? You've never flown before either.
Dan I've seen Jess land us several times.
Baka (loud) What if you're not half as good as she is?
Dan (intent on trying to land) Don't wake her up! I'm going to have to be. (both bump in seats)
Baka Jess is better at landing.
Dan Yeah, well, you'd do even worse. (Staring at landing platform.)
Baka Now here's the tough part, right?
Dan No, now's the part where you be quiet so I can concentrate. (both sink suddenly in seats, people run up on apron) Great, I fly the ship and they send a medical team to see what's wrong.
OUTSIDE THE SHIP
Nurse (running into Dantien) Where's your pilot? Does he need help?
Dan I'm him, and I'm fine. I've never flown before.
Nurse Are you okay?
Dan I'm fine, really.
Nurse Will you come with me, or are you certain you're not injured? Is there anyone else who can verify you're okay?
Baka (struts in, innocent voice) It really is his first time flying. I've never flown, either, but we were the only ones available to land the Vornskr.
Nurse (looks dubious) If you don't feel good, don't hesitate to go to the med center. (exits)
Dan Bad day. Bad day. Bad day.
IN RESTARAUNT: CAR'ULORN'S KAVSRACH
Jess They said what?
Baka She suggested that he go to the hospital. They must have thought he was having a heart attack.
Jan If anyone else was awake, they might have had one from what I hear.
Dan (embarrassed) Has anyone seen the new holodrama, Jolinar, yet?
Baka (stands up) I'll meet y'all back at the ship. (All nod and distractedly acknowledge him. He exits.)
Jan I have. I think they could have picked a better actor to play Jolinar.
Dan I don't know. I thought he was pretty good. What'd you think was wrong with his performance?
Jan His performance was fine, but in the book, they described him as being... cuter. (All girls nod.)
Jess Oh, yeah! (all finish, drop coins on table, stand up, and leave.)
OUTSIDE
Jess (looking at empty parking space) He took my speeder!
Jan Now how're we gonna get back?
Dan We can't exactly walk thirty kilometers to the spaceport. Jan, stick out your thumb.
Jan No way!
Jess Just do it! (Jan complies, speeder pulls up.)
Amak Jettoz. Nockneez.
Jan Let's go. (All get in.)
IN SPEEDER
Jan Zanki.
Dan You do know what he's saying, right?
Jan You don't? (to Amak) Tuz de ju mugee hyperspaaze?
Amak (laughs) Noza, dopeelya puka. (Jan smiles)
Jess What are you saying?
Jan He's driving so fast, I asked him if we were going into hyperspace. He said no; it's only an in-system rental.
Dan If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were drunk.
Jan (smiles; to Amak) Meez noza batza bazic.
Amak Where to?
Jan The spaceport.
Dan (whipering) What'd you say to get him to switch to basic?
Jan (likewise quiet) 'I know you speak basic;' you almost have to know it on Coruscant.
BACK AT SHIP
Jess (patting pockets) I left the keys in the speeder.
Jan Great. We might as well go back.
Dan Wait. (Goes to docking port)
Jess Why? What are you doing?
Dan I can break in.
Jess Great, so somebody will see us breaking into my ship and report us. And because the three of us will be in prison, we'll rely on Baka to get us out. Great plan.
Dan Then go back if you want to. (picks up scraps of metal; Jess leaves)
Jan Now what are you doing?
Dan Hold these over the sensors while I open the door.
Jan I see; you're tricking it into thinking there's a ship trying to dock.
Dan Yup. (enters code into keypad, opens door)
Baka (from offstage) Don't move! (enters) Oh, I thought you guys were robbers.
Jan Baka, where have you been?
Baka (guilty-looking) Just... shopping.
Jan You took Jess's speeder... to shop?
Baka Dantien, buddy, help me with this box, will you? (points to big box)
Dan (glances to Jan, who suddenly looks intimidating) Sure... (they exit with box)
FLIGHT DECK
Jan Where do you think Jess is?
Dan I wish I knew.
Baka I bet she's been abducted by aliens.
Jan That's ridiculous.
Jess (through comm) Jess Cadyue to Vornskr. Come in.
Jan Janua here. Where are you?
Jess Out and about. Listen, I need you guys to deliver that cargo we picked up on Naboo. I have to do some things here.
Jan Gotcha. We'll leave now. Vornskr out.
Dan & Baka Who's going to fly?
Jan I am.
Dan What gives you the idea that you can fly this thing?
Jan The Starfighter Academy.
Baka You went to the Starfighter Academy?
Dan Why didn't you land us?
Jan I was tired. Besides, going down, the space you have to make mistakes decreases. It increases when you leave.
Dan You're kidding, right? You're not that bad of a pilot... are you?
Jan I haven't flown since we were testing your odifications three years ago.
Dan We barely did any flying then!
Jan Exactly. (Starts to fly.)
Baka (eyes wide) Don't hit the...
Dan Skyscraper! (Baka & Dan sigh, watching the building go past.)
Jan Vornskr's not as aerodynamic as what I used to fly.
Baka (shakily) A-and what w-was that?
Jan Y-wing.
Dan At least the Vornskr's faster in space.
Jan Yeah? It's a Y-wing's missle's speed you have to worry about. That's all you'd have to outrun.
Dan Not if you have good shields.
A WEEK LATER. REC ROOM.
Dan Jess, it's so great to have you back!
Baka You pilot so much better than Janua! (thinks of something, hurries away)
Jess You're still alive.
Dan Barely.
Jan (indignant) I'm not that bad of a pilot.
Dan That's what you think. Probably the reason you're not still in the Starfigher Academy. (Jan, shocked he'd say that.)
Jess Actually, she kept shooting to the right of the targets.
Baka (re-enters, dragging familiar box) Hi, all! I hope you don't mind, but while Jess was on 'vacation', I got ya each a little gift. (opens box, passes out hot pink clothing.) Hope they fit!
Jess Hot pink?
Jan We'll blend into the crew cabin like a husky on Hoth!
Dan It's going in the bottom of my drawer. (Baka, sad no one really likes it. Jess & Jan nod in agreement.)
HOT PINK: THE PLAY
Characters:
Dantien Pindar
Jess Cadyue
Janua'dar
Baka
(Everyone else) CTC/nurse/Amak
Dantien: (ent. RC x C, looks around at pinkness, horrified. Turns on heel, runs out)
(Jess & Janua ent. UL, ent. Dantien UR)
Dan (still horrified) Janua, did you see the crew cabin? (She nods, motioning to Jess) How could Baka do such a thing? And why pink, of all colors?
Jess It's a definate change from the dark blue...
Janua I vote to have Baka moved into the storage closet.
Dan I second that vote. He can start packing right now!
Jess (lowering gaze at two "mutineers") Not gonna happen. He's not going anywhere near the storage closet unless you want to chance finding spoiled rations for supper. (Dan & Jan stare grudgingly.) But I'll get him to repaint the walls. Meanwhile, why don't you sleep in the rec room?
Jan I call sleeper sofa.
Dan Why do you always get it?
Jan Because you're helping Jess land when we get there.
FLIGHT DECK. AN ALARM GOES OFF. DANTIEN TURNS IT OFF, JESS TURNS IT OFF AGAIN.
Dan It's already off.
Jess It is, isn't it? (eyelids droop; she's almost asleep)
Dan Maybe Janua would like to land us. You want to sit in a passenger's seat?
Jess Nods, collapses in passenger's seat, immediately falls asleep.
Dan Guess you are tired.
CTC Incoming ship, this is Coruscant Traffic Control. Please state your destination.
Dan Vornskr to traffic control, please hold on just a moment.
REC ROOM
Jan (sleepily) What's wrong now?
Dan Jess fell alseep; I've never flown before.
Jan You've navigated intermittantly for three years. There's no reason you can't land with Baka's help. Good night. (exit UL)
DINING HALL
Dan Baka
Baka (jumps, spins around) Yeah, what's up?
Dan You're going to get some experience in the cockpit today. You need to come up and help me land.
Baka (stares in disbelief, jaw drops) You're going to let me fly?
Dan Jess fell asleep and Jan told me to let you navigate.
Baka (enthusiastic) Let's go.
FLIGHT DECK
CTC Do you need assistance? Is there some way we can help? Hello?k
Dan (dropping into copilot's seat) Vornskr to traffic control. We're just fine now.
CTC Are you sure?
Dan Yes. We'd like to land in the palace district.
CTC (pause) Uh, transmitting landing coordinates now. Nice and easy. Have a nice day.
Dan Thanks.
Baka (begins to sit in pilot's seat) So I get to fly after all?
Dan (switches seats quickly) No.
Baka Why not? You've never flown before either.
Dan I've seen Jess land us several times.
Baka (loud) What if you're not half as good as she is?
Dan (intent on trying to land) Don't wake her up! I'm going to have to be. (both bump in seats)
Baka Jess is better at landing.
Dan Yeah, well, you'd do even worse. (Staring at landing platform.)
Baka Now here's the tough part, right?
Dan No, now's the part where you be quiet so I can concentrate. (both sink suddenly in seats, people run up on apron) Great, I fly the ship and they send a medical team to see what's wrong.
OUTSIDE THE SHIP
Nurse (running into Dantien) Where's your pilot? Does he need help?
Dan I'm him, and I'm fine. I've never flown before.
Nurse Are you okay?
Dan I'm fine, really.
Nurse Will you come with me, or are you certain you're not injured? Is there anyone else who can verify you're okay?
Baka (struts in, innocent voice) It really is his first time flying. I've never flown, either, but we were the only ones available to land the Vornskr.
Nurse (looks dubious) If you don't feel good, don't hesitate to go to the med center. (exits)
Dan Bad day. Bad day. Bad day.
IN RESTARAUNT: CAR'ULORN'S KAVSRACH
Jess They said what?
Baka She suggested that he go to the hospital. They must have thought he was having a heart attack.
Jan If anyone else was awake, they might have had one from what I hear.
Dan (embarrassed) Has anyone seen the new holodrama, Jolinar, yet?
Baka (stands up) I'll meet y'all back at the ship. (All nod and distractedly acknowledge him. He exits.)
Jan I have. I think they could have picked a better actor to play Jolinar.
Dan I don't know. I thought he was pretty good. What'd you think was wrong with his performance?
Jan His performance was fine, but in the book, they described him as being... cuter. (All girls nod.)
Jess Oh, yeah! (all finish, drop coins on table, stand up, and leave.)
OUTSIDE
Jess (looking at empty parking space) He took my speeder!
Jan Now how're we gonna get back?
Dan We can't exactly walk thirty kilometers to the spaceport. Jan, stick out your thumb.
Jan No way!
Jess Just do it! (Jan complies, speeder pulls up.)
Amak Jettoz. Nockneez.
Jan Let's go. (All get in.)
IN SPEEDER
Jan Zanki.
Dan You do know what he's saying, right?
Jan You don't? (to Amak) Tuz de ju mugee hyperspaaze?
Amak (laughs) Noza, dopeelya puka. (Jan smiles)
Jess What are you saying?
Jan He's driving so fast, I asked him if we were going into hyperspace. He said no; it's only an in-system rental.
Dan If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were drunk.
Jan (smiles; to Amak) Meez noza batza bazic.
Amak Where to?
Jan The spaceport.
Dan (whipering) What'd you say to get him to switch to basic?
Jan (likewise quiet) 'I know you speak basic;' you almost have to know it on Coruscant.
BACK AT SHIP
Jess (patting pockets) I left the keys in the speeder.
Jan Great. We might as well go back.
Dan Wait. (Goes to docking port)
Jess Why? What are you doing?
Dan I can break in.
Jess Great, so somebody will see us breaking into my ship and report us. And because the three of us will be in prison, we'll rely on Baka to get us out. Great plan.
Dan Then go back if you want to. (picks up scraps of metal; Jess leaves)
Jan Now what are you doing?
Dan Hold these over the sensors while I open the door.
Jan I see; you're tricking it into thinking there's a ship trying to dock.
Dan Yup. (enters code into keypad, opens door)
Baka (from offstage) Don't move! (enters) Oh, I thought you guys were robbers.
Jan Baka, where have you been?
Baka (guilty-looking) Just... shopping.
Jan You took Jess's speeder... to shop?
Baka Dantien, buddy, help me with this box, will you? (points to big box)
Dan (glances to Jan, who suddenly looks intimidating) Sure... (they exit with box)
FLIGHT DECK
Jan Where do you think Jess is?
Dan I wish I knew.
Baka I bet she's been abducted by aliens.
Jan That's ridiculous.
Jess (through comm) Jess Cadyue to Vornskr. Come in.
Jan Janua here. Where are you?
Jess Out and about. Listen, I need you guys to deliver that cargo we picked up on Naboo. I have to do some things here.
Jan Gotcha. We'll leave now. Vornskr out.
Dan & Baka Who's going to fly?
Jan I am.
Dan What gives you the idea that you can fly this thing?
Jan The Starfighter Academy.
Baka You went to the Starfighter Academy?
Dan Why didn't you land us?
Jan I was tired. Besides, going down, the space you have to make mistakes decreases. It increases when you leave.
Dan You're kidding, right? You're not that bad of a pilot... are you?
Jan I haven't flown since we were testing your odifications three years ago.
Dan We barely did any flying then!
Jan Exactly. (Starts to fly.)
Baka (eyes wide) Don't hit the...
Dan Skyscraper! (Baka & Dan sigh, watching the building go past.)
Jan Vornskr's not as aerodynamic as what I used to fly.
Baka (shakily) A-and what w-was that?
Jan Y-wing.
Dan At least the Vornskr's faster in space.
Jan Yeah? It's a Y-wing's missle's speed you have to worry about. That's all you'd have to outrun.
Dan Not if you have good shields.
A WEEK LATER. REC ROOM.
Dan Jess, it's so great to have you back!
Baka You pilot so much better than Janua! (thinks of something, hurries away)
Jess You're still alive.
Dan Barely.
Jan (indignant) I'm not that bad of a pilot.
Dan That's what you think. Probably the reason you're not still in the Starfigher Academy. (Jan, shocked he'd say that.)
Jess Actually, she kept shooting to the right of the targets.
Baka (re-enters, dragging familiar box) Hi, all! I hope you don't mind, but while Jess was on 'vacation', I got ya each a little gift. (opens box, passes out hot pink clothing.) Hope they fit!
Jess Hot pink?
Jan We'll blend into the crew cabin like a husky on Hoth!
Dan It's going in the bottom of my drawer. (Baka, sad no one really likes it. Jess & Jan nod in agreement.)
Quote of the day: Meez noza batza bazic.
Question of the day: Where have all my buddies gone? Long time passing! Where have all my buddies gone? Long time ago...
Ted's question #y: Wo bist du? (Hey, he speaks German now!)
Reeses progress report: I've got the first chapter re-written! Yay! Here, you can see a special sneak preview for those who actually read this!
Whipping open my creaky, wooden front door, my smile grew to half the size of my face at the sight of an average-height woman in her forties with short, graying blonde hair. Though she wore comfortable jeans and a red blouse, the small smile on her face suggested that she wasn't completely at ease.
I stepped aside and held the door open, trying to make enough room in my small foyer for her, her son, and me. "It's so great to see you, Sally," I greeted, meaning every word; each person to show up on my doorstep was another chance to save a life, or two lives, really.
"You, too." She carefully tread up one step into my house from a small, white porch, followed by her teenage son, who wore a t-shirt of his favorite band, baggy jeans, and mud-covered tennis shoes that may have been white at some previous time.
"Matt," I said, pointing to a small, isolated den, "you can watch TV if you want." As he crept off to watch who-knew-what, I led his mother to my small office in the depths of my house. It wasn't an office, really, but a tiny bedroom with sea-foam green carpet and light pink walls left over from the previous owner's young daughter. The room held little: a white desk half the size of a card table, two simple spray-painted black chairs from the eighties, and a few photos of beautiful vistas hanging on the walls. Any passing glance at these would suggest to most viewers that I had either traveled to some of the most exotic places on earth or bough cheap photography from Wal-mart. I, however, knew the truth: I had taken those pictures with a disposable camera on some of the planets that housed Tok'ra bases as well as some of Vinnet's favorite worlds.
I crossed behind the desk and sat, suddenly self-conscious of the old, worn carpet present throughout my house. Fortunately, Sally didn't seem to notice. Were I in her position, I don't know that I would have paid any attention to the floor covering in the house of the person who said she could save my life either.
Sally sat with her back to the room's door on the single unoccupied black chair, her legs crossed. "So what's this 'procedure' you've been talking about?" she questioned.
A hint of a smile found itself back on my face. They always asked that, and it always annoyed me to no end that I couldn't describe the whole experience of blending with every ounce of detail available to me. But the Air Force had closed that option in the name of security and to prevent me from being hauled off to an insane asylum. "There's not much to it, really. When they're ready for you, I'll take you to an Air Force base, where they'll go ahead with it. It's still being tested, but so far, they've had pretty good statistics."
She broke into my pause, demanding, "Which are?"
Yeah, sure, ask me all the tough questions, I thought, looking up and to the side at a picture of Kiramaltu, as if I was trying to remember the exact numbers. "I don't know," I replied, sincerely trying to think what they might be. Something in my mind suggested that no one had ever calculated it, but the blending failed only when a symbiote was weak or in the wrong species of host. "I guess the chances of it working are close to, say, ninety-five percent."
She nodded, thinking about it. "I suppose that's not bad. To get rid of the cancer and know that I'd live to see Matt graduate, I don't think it'd be too bad at all. How much would it cost?"
Another tricky question. "In money, nothing," I said, knowing that it made the whole deal sound all the more suspicious. "But you will definitely notice the effects for the rest of your life."
"Side effects?" Sally asked, curious concern and worry bringing her eyebrows together in such a way that I thought of Spock on Star Trek.
"Sort of," I said, wincing. I wouldn't exactly call Vinnet or any other symbiote a side effect; the term described healing cancer better. Maybe getting off that subject would be a good idea. "There's no backing out when we arrive or forgetting it ever happened once it's done."
"Why?"
Well, first of all, you get a lot more knowledge. You hear voices in your head. Then you have to dedicate your life to an organization you've never heard of before, but you won't mind because you'll know that they stand against the atrocities of a ruling power in the galaxy, I answered in my head. "It's kind of a Faustian deal. You get cured, but you end up having to work with others like yourself for the rest of your life, which isn't so bad in today's economy." Except for the fact that you never get paid, but that's beside the point.
She stared down at her hands. Her silence rang in my ears, screaming that, with me here, the Tok'ra would once again have a steep, negative rate of population growth. "A job," she repeated, looking out the window behind me. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad. Do you have any details on it?"
"Well, um," I stalled as I attempted to think of anything other than long hours, no vacation time, and a rather high risk of getting shot. "You get to travel a lot," I finally told her, pointing to a photo of a tropical waterfall. "That was just outside a base on--near--a... city called Namalia." Unbeknownst to Ms. King, Namalia was actually the homeworld of my symbiote's second host before me.
Catching the word "base," she questioned with distaste tingeing her voice, "So it's with the army?"
"Well, I guess you could say that," I replied, trying for all the many worlds--and many Tok'ra--to make her like it.
She stared straight at me. "Is it or isn't it?"
"It isn't," I answered, but it's similar, martial. If it helps, you wouldn't be around the typical army type." Not that I had any problem with them. After all, Jack at least had a sense of humor and an ongoing Wizard of Oz theme.
Sally nodded, still taking it into consideration, despite her dislikes. "What's the procedure itself like?"
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Back to the easy hard questions. "It's not so bad, I don't think." My eyes wondered out of focus, remembering back to eighth grade, the most memorable year of my childhood. "It hurts at first then it's all gone. I heard from one guy that he experience a black-out and a bit of a headache, but he seemed happy with his decision." I really hadn't blacked-out so much as I had fallen into a sort of meditation kind of thing, and I hadn't suffered a headache. I attributed this to the fact that Vinnet had been well-rested and hadn't needed to cure any ailments.
Sally paused a moment. "Will I be anesthetized?"
"No, but then again, it takes only a few minutes." I had retained no concept of time during my blending; I knew it could take less than a minute in perfect circumstances or half an hour in less than perfect circumstances, when the symbiote had to heal its host.
She bit her lip. "Exactly what will they do?"
"What do you mean?"
Taking a deep breath, she asked, "What are they going to do, inject me with some anti-cancer agent?" She gulped at the though, apparently as thrilled with the idea of needles as the colonel.
Since I couldn't very well tell her we were going to put an alien in the back of her neck, I shrugged and thought about it, belatedly realizing I shouldn't need so much time to recall that information. "Something like that."
If looks were daggers, I was glad to be a Tok'ra; as far as her stare went, I wasn't so sure it wasn't lethal. "Sarah?" she scolded, her voice as menacingly sharp as her stare.
I sighed, stalling just long enough to collect the beginnings of an earlier idea. "Uh, about six months ago, an Air Force major was visiting South America and became injured. Anyway, she happened to come across this leech with healing properties. Um, ever since she brought it back to the US, the Air Force has been exploring its medicinal usages, including curing cancer. Problem is, it's really rare."
She studied my face for a moment, worrying me that she might not buy it. Finally, she gave an approving nod. "I guess I'll think about it and talk it over with Matt."
I stood, shook hands with her, and led her to the door, picking up Matt on the way past the den, where he had befriended my dog. "If you have any questions at all, just ask," I reminded her. "Even if I can't answer them for you immediately, I'll see if I can find an answer from someone else."
Sally paused on the porch and turned around, a somewhat contemplative look covering her face. I drew in a deep breath, preparing for the toughest question yet. "Why leeches?"
I laughed, thankful for an easy one. "God put them here for a reason!" I answered, catching a rather lost glance from Matt. Sally smiled as well, and we said our farewells. Then the two Kings walked to their car to return to their daily lives.
With them out of the house, I carefully closed the door and leaned back on it. That went well, I thought, besides the whole bit with the Stargate and Tok'ra so wrapped up in governmental secrecy here on earth that I have to lie to get people to save their own lives.
The ringing of my phone cut my following sigh somewhat shorter than it would have been otherwise. Stepping over my dog, who had accompanied us to the door, I ran around the corner back into my office to snatch the portable black phone from its cradle. "Hello? This is Sarah Anderson. How can I help you?"
"Hi, honey!" came a cheerful male voice from the other side.
"Dad." I thought then of Major Carter and her father. Unlike me, Sam could tell her dad almost anything she wanted; Jacob had clearance. I, however, wasn't allowed to tell my family anything about my job or where I went so often. Everyone at the SGC already thought of me as a security risk; I had absolutely no reason to prove them right. "What's up?"
I could almost see him grinning. "Just wondering what you're up to. That's all."
Should've known. "I just talked to Ms. King again. I don't know if she'll go for it."
"What is 'it' again?" he questioned. He'd asked me countless times, and I always sighed and gave him the same answer.
True to past exchanges, I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes. "A medical procedure that can cure almost any illness."
"And why was it never on the front page of the newspaper?" The same question after the same answer, over and over--we'd had this conversation before.
"Because it's available to only a limited number of people--say ten a month--at most!" I explained, thinking what kind of catastrophe it would be if ten hosts died in a single month.
"Why?"
"Dad!" I nearly screamed into the receiver, tired of the game and not particularly eager to resort to the leech excuse again since Vinnet had expressed her indignity at being compared to a leech. "You know I can't answer that!" I almost considered putting Vinnet on the phone; she had to be better at this than I was. However, her voice was just otherworldly enough for him to get suspicious.
"Yes," he pleaded, almost certainly with puppy-dog eyes, "I know that's what you say, but you can tell me."
"No." By that time, I was rubbing my face with my free hand, as if it was a magic lamp that could make all my problems disappear. "You wouldn't let me keep this job."
"Of course I would if it's what you really want to do," he purred.
"If you someday become terminally ill, maybe I'll be able to tell you what I do if you agree to the procedure. For now, I'm going to take Garshie for a walk. I'll e-mail you. Bye." Catching a single indistinguishable syllable of his reply, I jammed the "talk" button and dropped the phone back in the charger. I didn't usually hang up on people, but sometime I got truly fed up with all the secrecy and hush-hush. Maybe it was a shared emotion from Vinnet's frustration with being allowed to speak only occasionally. But to a Tok'ra host, attributing an emotion to one or the other really wasn't practical since both experienced it the same.
Standing, I drifted from my office back to the door, wondering if there was even more of a path worn into the carpet from today's pacing. As I pulled a leash from a key hook by the door, Garshaw, my three-year-old husky mix, happily ran up to me, overjoyed at the suggestion of going for a walk. I'd gotten him for my twenty-first birthday, and Vinnet had named him after a previous leader of the Tok'ra. I'd had no objections as long as his full name could be Imperial Trainee Garshaw Houndini Anderson, after my first dog, Imperial Trainee Theodore Houndini Anderson.
Just as I told Dad, I hooked the leash to Garshie's collar and led him around the neighbor hood. Other than getting dragged forward or having to goad him to keep moving, our somewhat leisurely pace, combined with the fresh autumn air and gentle breeze, allowed me to relax considerably.
About halfway around our circular route, my cell phone began beeping out "Across the Star." I stopped by a green plastic mailbox, earning me a questioning glance from Garshie, and fumbled the small gray and silver contraption out of my pocket. Pressing the button with the green phone, I answered, "Hello?"
"Sarah," Sally's slightly distorted voice responded. I heard a slight gulping noise as if she wasn't entirely certain about what she was about to say. "I'm calling to tell you my decision about the procedure."
My eyebrows rose, though I knew she couldn't see. "That was quick," I said, prompting a short, half-hearted burst of laughter from Sally. Expecting her to enlighten me, I waited a few seconds, finally asking, "Yes?"
She remained quiet for a couple more seconds. "Um, I'll do it, I guess. Whenever you're ready for me."
I silently cheered at her response, most likely giving the neighbors quite a show. "Okay!" I chirped. "When they have an opening, I'll call and pick you up."
"Thanks. Bye."
Disconnecting the call and shoving the cell phone back into my pocket, I smiled down at my husky mix and continued walking, thinking how lucky I was that I didn't completely scare Sally with the whole leech cover story.
The sun had begun to sink, streaking the sky with pinks and reds by the time we returned. As I walked in, I noticed that the flashing red light of the answering machine intermittently illuminated the living room, beckoning someone to hear its tales. After releasing one happy Garshaw, I jagged over and jabbed the round button marked "play." If my gut feeling was right, I'd have no time to waste.
Sure enough, Jacob's voice wound out of the speaker, its grave tone causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. "Sarah, there was an attack. Six people were hurt pretty bad. We need you back at the base as soon as possible."
He said little but told me every detail I required to do my job and justify my pleasurable life on Earth. Though I wondered who had attacked the base, how they found it, and if I'd met any of the injured, I knew standing around and dwelling on it was an idle waste of precious time. I ran into my office to check a list of possible hosts who lived near my Colorado home and called six of them whose illnesses had not progressed beyond a tired symbiote's ability to repair. I carefully explained to them--again, but not for the last time--that there was no backing out once we reached our destination. Next, I left a message on my dad's answering machine, asking him to take care of Garshie and saying only that I had to go on another business trip.
Since I couldn't think of anything more to take care of, I hurried into the garage and hopped into my blue SUV. The garage door had barely begun to close as I peeled away, my mind plotting the fastest route between my house, the hose of the six I had called, and the nearby Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base.
Question of the day: Where have all my buddies gone? Long time passing! Where have all my buddies gone? Long time ago...
Ted's question #y: Wo bist du? (Hey, he speaks German now!)
Reeses progress report: I've got the first chapter re-written! Yay! Here, you can see a special sneak preview for those who actually read this!
Whipping open my creaky, wooden front door, my smile grew to half the size of my face at the sight of an average-height woman in her forties with short, graying blonde hair. Though she wore comfortable jeans and a red blouse, the small smile on her face suggested that she wasn't completely at ease.
I stepped aside and held the door open, trying to make enough room in my small foyer for her, her son, and me. "It's so great to see you, Sally," I greeted, meaning every word; each person to show up on my doorstep was another chance to save a life, or two lives, really.
"You, too." She carefully tread up one step into my house from a small, white porch, followed by her teenage son, who wore a t-shirt of his favorite band, baggy jeans, and mud-covered tennis shoes that may have been white at some previous time.
"Matt," I said, pointing to a small, isolated den, "you can watch TV if you want." As he crept off to watch who-knew-what, I led his mother to my small office in the depths of my house. It wasn't an office, really, but a tiny bedroom with sea-foam green carpet and light pink walls left over from the previous owner's young daughter. The room held little: a white desk half the size of a card table, two simple spray-painted black chairs from the eighties, and a few photos of beautiful vistas hanging on the walls. Any passing glance at these would suggest to most viewers that I had either traveled to some of the most exotic places on earth or bough cheap photography from Wal-mart. I, however, knew the truth: I had taken those pictures with a disposable camera on some of the planets that housed Tok'ra bases as well as some of Vinnet's favorite worlds.
I crossed behind the desk and sat, suddenly self-conscious of the old, worn carpet present throughout my house. Fortunately, Sally didn't seem to notice. Were I in her position, I don't know that I would have paid any attention to the floor covering in the house of the person who said she could save my life either.
Sally sat with her back to the room's door on the single unoccupied black chair, her legs crossed. "So what's this 'procedure' you've been talking about?" she questioned.
A hint of a smile found itself back on my face. They always asked that, and it always annoyed me to no end that I couldn't describe the whole experience of blending with every ounce of detail available to me. But the Air Force had closed that option in the name of security and to prevent me from being hauled off to an insane asylum. "There's not much to it, really. When they're ready for you, I'll take you to an Air Force base, where they'll go ahead with it. It's still being tested, but so far, they've had pretty good statistics."
She broke into my pause, demanding, "Which are?"
Yeah, sure, ask me all the tough questions, I thought, looking up and to the side at a picture of Kiramaltu, as if I was trying to remember the exact numbers. "I don't know," I replied, sincerely trying to think what they might be. Something in my mind suggested that no one had ever calculated it, but the blending failed only when a symbiote was weak or in the wrong species of host. "I guess the chances of it working are close to, say, ninety-five percent."
She nodded, thinking about it. "I suppose that's not bad. To get rid of the cancer and know that I'd live to see Matt graduate, I don't think it'd be too bad at all. How much would it cost?"
Another tricky question. "In money, nothing," I said, knowing that it made the whole deal sound all the more suspicious. "But you will definitely notice the effects for the rest of your life."
"Side effects?" Sally asked, curious concern and worry bringing her eyebrows together in such a way that I thought of Spock on Star Trek.
"Sort of," I said, wincing. I wouldn't exactly call Vinnet or any other symbiote a side effect; the term described healing cancer better. Maybe getting off that subject would be a good idea. "There's no backing out when we arrive or forgetting it ever happened once it's done."
"Why?"
Well, first of all, you get a lot more knowledge. You hear voices in your head. Then you have to dedicate your life to an organization you've never heard of before, but you won't mind because you'll know that they stand against the atrocities of a ruling power in the galaxy, I answered in my head. "It's kind of a Faustian deal. You get cured, but you end up having to work with others like yourself for the rest of your life, which isn't so bad in today's economy." Except for the fact that you never get paid, but that's beside the point.
She stared down at her hands. Her silence rang in my ears, screaming that, with me here, the Tok'ra would once again have a steep, negative rate of population growth. "A job," she repeated, looking out the window behind me. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad. Do you have any details on it?"
"Well, um," I stalled as I attempted to think of anything other than long hours, no vacation time, and a rather high risk of getting shot. "You get to travel a lot," I finally told her, pointing to a photo of a tropical waterfall. "That was just outside a base on--near--a... city called Namalia." Unbeknownst to Ms. King, Namalia was actually the homeworld of my symbiote's second host before me.
Catching the word "base," she questioned with distaste tingeing her voice, "So it's with the army?"
"Well, I guess you could say that," I replied, trying for all the many worlds--and many Tok'ra--to make her like it.
She stared straight at me. "Is it or isn't it?"
"It isn't," I answered, but it's similar, martial. If it helps, you wouldn't be around the typical army type." Not that I had any problem with them. After all, Jack at least had a sense of humor and an ongoing Wizard of Oz theme.
Sally nodded, still taking it into consideration, despite her dislikes. "What's the procedure itself like?"
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Back to the easy hard questions. "It's not so bad, I don't think." My eyes wondered out of focus, remembering back to eighth grade, the most memorable year of my childhood. "It hurts at first then it's all gone. I heard from one guy that he experience a black-out and a bit of a headache, but he seemed happy with his decision." I really hadn't blacked-out so much as I had fallen into a sort of meditation kind of thing, and I hadn't suffered a headache. I attributed this to the fact that Vinnet had been well-rested and hadn't needed to cure any ailments.
Sally paused a moment. "Will I be anesthetized?"
"No, but then again, it takes only a few minutes." I had retained no concept of time during my blending; I knew it could take less than a minute in perfect circumstances or half an hour in less than perfect circumstances, when the symbiote had to heal its host.
She bit her lip. "Exactly what will they do?"
"What do you mean?"
Taking a deep breath, she asked, "What are they going to do, inject me with some anti-cancer agent?" She gulped at the though, apparently as thrilled with the idea of needles as the colonel.
Since I couldn't very well tell her we were going to put an alien in the back of her neck, I shrugged and thought about it, belatedly realizing I shouldn't need so much time to recall that information. "Something like that."
If looks were daggers, I was glad to be a Tok'ra; as far as her stare went, I wasn't so sure it wasn't lethal. "Sarah?" she scolded, her voice as menacingly sharp as her stare.
I sighed, stalling just long enough to collect the beginnings of an earlier idea. "Uh, about six months ago, an Air Force major was visiting South America and became injured. Anyway, she happened to come across this leech with healing properties. Um, ever since she brought it back to the US, the Air Force has been exploring its medicinal usages, including curing cancer. Problem is, it's really rare."
She studied my face for a moment, worrying me that she might not buy it. Finally, she gave an approving nod. "I guess I'll think about it and talk it over with Matt."
I stood, shook hands with her, and led her to the door, picking up Matt on the way past the den, where he had befriended my dog. "If you have any questions at all, just ask," I reminded her. "Even if I can't answer them for you immediately, I'll see if I can find an answer from someone else."
Sally paused on the porch and turned around, a somewhat contemplative look covering her face. I drew in a deep breath, preparing for the toughest question yet. "Why leeches?"
I laughed, thankful for an easy one. "God put them here for a reason!" I answered, catching a rather lost glance from Matt. Sally smiled as well, and we said our farewells. Then the two Kings walked to their car to return to their daily lives.
With them out of the house, I carefully closed the door and leaned back on it. That went well, I thought, besides the whole bit with the Stargate and Tok'ra so wrapped up in governmental secrecy here on earth that I have to lie to get people to save their own lives.
The ringing of my phone cut my following sigh somewhat shorter than it would have been otherwise. Stepping over my dog, who had accompanied us to the door, I ran around the corner back into my office to snatch the portable black phone from its cradle. "Hello? This is Sarah Anderson. How can I help you?"
"Hi, honey!" came a cheerful male voice from the other side.
"Dad." I thought then of Major Carter and her father. Unlike me, Sam could tell her dad almost anything she wanted; Jacob had clearance. I, however, wasn't allowed to tell my family anything about my job or where I went so often. Everyone at the SGC already thought of me as a security risk; I had absolutely no reason to prove them right. "What's up?"
I could almost see him grinning. "Just wondering what you're up to. That's all."
Should've known. "I just talked to Ms. King again. I don't know if she'll go for it."
"What is 'it' again?" he questioned. He'd asked me countless times, and I always sighed and gave him the same answer.
True to past exchanges, I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes. "A medical procedure that can cure almost any illness."
"And why was it never on the front page of the newspaper?" The same question after the same answer, over and over--we'd had this conversation before.
"Because it's available to only a limited number of people--say ten a month--at most!" I explained, thinking what kind of catastrophe it would be if ten hosts died in a single month.
"Why?"
"Dad!" I nearly screamed into the receiver, tired of the game and not particularly eager to resort to the leech excuse again since Vinnet had expressed her indignity at being compared to a leech. "You know I can't answer that!" I almost considered putting Vinnet on the phone; she had to be better at this than I was. However, her voice was just otherworldly enough for him to get suspicious.
"Yes," he pleaded, almost certainly with puppy-dog eyes, "I know that's what you say, but you can tell me."
"No." By that time, I was rubbing my face with my free hand, as if it was a magic lamp that could make all my problems disappear. "You wouldn't let me keep this job."
"Of course I would if it's what you really want to do," he purred.
"If you someday become terminally ill, maybe I'll be able to tell you what I do if you agree to the procedure. For now, I'm going to take Garshie for a walk. I'll e-mail you. Bye." Catching a single indistinguishable syllable of his reply, I jammed the "talk" button and dropped the phone back in the charger. I didn't usually hang up on people, but sometime I got truly fed up with all the secrecy and hush-hush. Maybe it was a shared emotion from Vinnet's frustration with being allowed to speak only occasionally. But to a Tok'ra host, attributing an emotion to one or the other really wasn't practical since both experienced it the same.
Standing, I drifted from my office back to the door, wondering if there was even more of a path worn into the carpet from today's pacing. As I pulled a leash from a key hook by the door, Garshaw, my three-year-old husky mix, happily ran up to me, overjoyed at the suggestion of going for a walk. I'd gotten him for my twenty-first birthday, and Vinnet had named him after a previous leader of the Tok'ra. I'd had no objections as long as his full name could be Imperial Trainee Garshaw Houndini Anderson, after my first dog, Imperial Trainee Theodore Houndini Anderson.
Just as I told Dad, I hooked the leash to Garshie's collar and led him around the neighbor hood. Other than getting dragged forward or having to goad him to keep moving, our somewhat leisurely pace, combined with the fresh autumn air and gentle breeze, allowed me to relax considerably.
About halfway around our circular route, my cell phone began beeping out "Across the Star." I stopped by a green plastic mailbox, earning me a questioning glance from Garshie, and fumbled the small gray and silver contraption out of my pocket. Pressing the button with the green phone, I answered, "Hello?"
"Sarah," Sally's slightly distorted voice responded. I heard a slight gulping noise as if she wasn't entirely certain about what she was about to say. "I'm calling to tell you my decision about the procedure."
My eyebrows rose, though I knew she couldn't see. "That was quick," I said, prompting a short, half-hearted burst of laughter from Sally. Expecting her to enlighten me, I waited a few seconds, finally asking, "Yes?"
She remained quiet for a couple more seconds. "Um, I'll do it, I guess. Whenever you're ready for me."
I silently cheered at her response, most likely giving the neighbors quite a show. "Okay!" I chirped. "When they have an opening, I'll call and pick you up."
"Thanks. Bye."
Disconnecting the call and shoving the cell phone back into my pocket, I smiled down at my husky mix and continued walking, thinking how lucky I was that I didn't completely scare Sally with the whole leech cover story.
The sun had begun to sink, streaking the sky with pinks and reds by the time we returned. As I walked in, I noticed that the flashing red light of the answering machine intermittently illuminated the living room, beckoning someone to hear its tales. After releasing one happy Garshaw, I jagged over and jabbed the round button marked "play." If my gut feeling was right, I'd have no time to waste.
Sure enough, Jacob's voice wound out of the speaker, its grave tone causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. "Sarah, there was an attack. Six people were hurt pretty bad. We need you back at the base as soon as possible."
He said little but told me every detail I required to do my job and justify my pleasurable life on Earth. Though I wondered who had attacked the base, how they found it, and if I'd met any of the injured, I knew standing around and dwelling on it was an idle waste of precious time. I ran into my office to check a list of possible hosts who lived near my Colorado home and called six of them whose illnesses had not progressed beyond a tired symbiote's ability to repair. I carefully explained to them--again, but not for the last time--that there was no backing out once we reached our destination. Next, I left a message on my dad's answering machine, asking him to take care of Garshie and saying only that I had to go on another business trip.
Since I couldn't think of anything more to take care of, I hurried into the garage and hopped into my blue SUV. The garage door had barely begun to close as I peeled away, my mind plotting the fastest route between my house, the hose of the six I had called, and the nearby Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base.
Friday, April 16, 2004
Quote of the day: Warum nicht?
Question of the day: See above.
Ted's question #x. Aren't you going to open the door?
Reeses progress report: I've almost got half of the first page re-written. I think. Check out the new chapter. Must go read Tale of Two Cities.
Question of the day: See above.
Ted's question #x. Aren't you going to open the door?
Reeses progress report: I've almost got half of the first page re-written. I think. Check out the new chapter. Must go read Tale of Two Cities.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Learn something new everyday, I guess. Here's the word of the day:
Nagada
It's apparently the name of Kasuf's villiage on Abydos. If that helps anyone's fanfiction, good for you!
Nagada
It's apparently the name of Kasuf's villiage on Abydos. If that helps anyone's fanfiction, good for you!
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Thought someone might be interested in this. *cough*MaraJade*cough* Sorry I can't get it alligned right. I did it for creative writing. We'll call it a Danny pyramid poem...
Two Sides
Goa'uld
obnoxious, cliche
fighting, impersonating, fleeing
symbiote, Jaffa, delegate, airman
discussing, talking, pursuing
heroic, humerous
Tau'ri
Two Sides
Goa'uld
obnoxious, cliche
fighting, impersonating, fleeing
symbiote, Jaffa, delegate, airman
discussing, talking, pursuing
heroic, humerous
Tau'ri
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
I've been doing what you might could call research lately in the form of reading through a book called The Stargate Conspiracy (Picknett, Lynn and Clive Prince. The Stargate Conspiracy. New York, NY: Berkley Publishing Group, 1999.) Anyway, right about as I got to chapter four ("Contact?"), I realized that the information contained in this "non-fiction" book could be incorporated into some great fanfic/story...
I mean, what if some Stargate fan found out that it's all true, though the "SGC" isn't in Cheyenne Mountain, but the Great Pyramid with the underground complex being underneath the Giza Pyramids and Sphinx. The Goa'uld would actually be called Nommo or, better yet, the Ennead (meaning "the Nine"). (You'd have to see chapter four for all the details; I don't want to rewrite the book.) Of course, they wouldn't be so tacky as to call it the Stargate (might not be round, either), but arq ur . Since that's the later Egyptian word for silver, three guesses what color the "gate" would be... (The only reason it's discussed in the SC--Stargate Conspiracy--is that it's been translated to mean "Sphinx," which is apparently wrong.) Of course, the Ennead (the Nine) would be pretty much exactly like the Goa'uld, though maybe not parasitic--self-obsessed, obnoxious, cliche, the whole nine yards. And instead of seven system lords, there'd be nine.
Maybe there'd be an alpha site on Earth--Lab Nine in America... I'm just throwing out ideas here, more for my own reference than anyone else's. It has potential, though...
I mean, what if some Stargate fan found out that it's all true, though the "SGC" isn't in Cheyenne Mountain, but the Great Pyramid with the underground complex being underneath the Giza Pyramids and Sphinx. The Goa'uld would actually be called Nommo or, better yet, the Ennead (meaning "the Nine"). (You'd have to see chapter four for all the details; I don't want to rewrite the book.) Of course, they wouldn't be so tacky as to call it the Stargate (might not be round, either), but arq ur . Since that's the later Egyptian word for silver, three guesses what color the "gate" would be... (The only reason it's discussed in the SC--Stargate Conspiracy--is that it's been translated to mean "Sphinx," which is apparently wrong.) Of course, the Ennead (the Nine) would be pretty much exactly like the Goa'uld, though maybe not parasitic--self-obsessed, obnoxious, cliche, the whole nine yards. And instead of seven system lords, there'd be nine.
Maybe there'd be an alpha site on Earth--Lab Nine in America... I'm just throwing out ideas here, more for my own reference than anyone else's. It has potential, though...
Friday, April 09, 2004
Humph. No one inserted six quarters. *frown* Well, I was sitting around and I thought I'd write something, but I wasn't "hungry" to work on anything I'd already started, so this is kind of a companion to the alternate ending of Reeses because I've got a somewhat sick and currupted mind, so I think up bad scenarios for one of my favorite OCs.
Reeses AU Companion
Sarah stumbed back into her home-away-from-home aboard Sobek's Ha'tak: a dimly lit gold and black shoebox of a room about ten feet by five. Just before the standard golden door settled closed behind her, she glimpsed her pair of well-fed Jaffa escortes turn and begin to waddle back down the corridor, their dull metal kilts swaying slightly with the motion. Then the sturdy door shut off even her view of her captors, leaving her alone in the enclosed space that was sure to inspire claustrophobia in even an earthworm.
Sarah dropped onto the low, hard bench protruding from the wall, not particularly bothered by the fact that any contact with her skin shot renewed waves of pain throughout her. Times like these mader her waver in her appreciation for Vinnet. On the one hand, if she wasn't a Tok'ra, Sobek might have laid off a bit on the severe torture techniques due to an uncertainty of the frailty of humans. (While he could have utilized a sarcoughagus and gone ahead with killing her, he much preferred letting her just try to heal a bit, whether it did any good or not.) On the other hand, she knew that Vinnet was trying to keep as many natural painkillers, including borderline safe amounts of endorphins, running through her as possible.
She took a deep breath and studied her surroundings. Each of the walls except for the one with the door featured a large, rectangular patch of black gridding, the bars of which were around two inches wide. That, combined with its black background, greatly contributed to the dimness of the cell. Appearing to support these sections of dark abyss, the remainder of the room was constructed of the typical golden walls, decorated by stories of Sobek's victories embossed in gold; the Goa'uld must not have known any metals besides gold and naquada or decorations besides gold walls and jewels. It couldn't have been that hard to find a half decent wall paper shop!
Reeses AU Companion
Sarah stumbed back into her home-away-from-home aboard Sobek's Ha'tak: a dimly lit gold and black shoebox of a room about ten feet by five. Just before the standard golden door settled closed behind her, she glimpsed her pair of well-fed Jaffa escortes turn and begin to waddle back down the corridor, their dull metal kilts swaying slightly with the motion. Then the sturdy door shut off even her view of her captors, leaving her alone in the enclosed space that was sure to inspire claustrophobia in even an earthworm.
Sarah dropped onto the low, hard bench protruding from the wall, not particularly bothered by the fact that any contact with her skin shot renewed waves of pain throughout her. Times like these mader her waver in her appreciation for Vinnet. On the one hand, if she wasn't a Tok'ra, Sobek might have laid off a bit on the severe torture techniques due to an uncertainty of the frailty of humans. (While he could have utilized a sarcoughagus and gone ahead with killing her, he much preferred letting her just try to heal a bit, whether it did any good or not.) On the other hand, she knew that Vinnet was trying to keep as many natural painkillers, including borderline safe amounts of endorphins, running through her as possible.
She took a deep breath and studied her surroundings. Each of the walls except for the one with the door featured a large, rectangular patch of black gridding, the bars of which were around two inches wide. That, combined with its black background, greatly contributed to the dimness of the cell. Appearing to support these sections of dark abyss, the remainder of the room was constructed of the typical golden walls, decorated by stories of Sobek's victories embossed in gold; the Goa'uld must not have known any metals besides gold and naquada or decorations besides gold walls and jewels. It couldn't have been that hard to find a half decent wall paper shop!
Ah, yes, I forgot to come back and explain the significance of Miroku's face... Well, let's see... I remember that now! (It's so going up on my pictures website if and when I get one! You see, besides the obvious physical similarities between the InuYasha (TM) character Miroku and Orlando Bloom as Will Turner (especially with the fair skin and slanting shoulders), the personality of the actor and Miroku fit perfectly. (see second paragraph of Thursday, March 11) Put it this way: According to this source, Orlando Bloom's an idiot when it comes to members of the opposite sex, as is Miroku. They're both sidekicks to much better-looking characters (Johnny Depp as Cpt. Jack Sparrow and Inuyasha, respectively).
Anyway, back to the reason why I got on today, besides the fact that I'm sitting at my mom's office for the next couple hours, and I finished any semblance of homework: I need to brainstorm ideas for "Leap to SG-1".
WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!
Well, from where I am now, I suppose I need to accomplish a couple things. First of all, I need to dream up an explanation for why Al's there, which could be accompanied by the fact that this is obviously in the future from when the show, Quantum Leap, takes place. In case I haven't made that clear, which I suppose I need to do that too, this takes place further in the future than from where Sam B. started. Let's say that the most modern time represented in any way on the show (where Al goes when he's not talking to Sam) is around 1985, conservatively. If my fic takes place in 2003 (despite the fact that Danny's there and the Tok'ra thing seems like it should be more late season 4 or early season 5), that's way in the future for even the future-most part of Quantum Leap. So. I figured that the program continued (and yet, not even the SGC with it's top clearence or whatever knows about it) and is under new administration, new staff, new building, etc.
I've also been asked to include Jacob, which could work out very well. In the end, I want to have some kind of connection between the Tok'ra and the Quantum Leap program... Or maybe...! (Don't read this if you don't want to know the very end.) Maybe the Quantum Leap program goes offworld and fixes things in the Goa'uld/Tok'ra's past, which could cause some things to work out in favor of the Tok'ra or Tau'ri. Maybe Jennifer could ascend and convince the Ancients not to let Anubis ascend, therefore killing him for all time, leaving Abydos intact, the system lords still fighting, and the Lost City unfound. In subsequent chapters or a sequel, I could explore possibilities for alternate realities generated by QL involvement with Goa'uld/Tok'ra history and what changes it might bring about for future/past generations of the SGC (I have a feeling only past generations of history would be affected by any changes, leaving the SGC's generation untouched. It's a complicated idea that requires a diagram for proper explanation... Grr, blogger!)
Yes. So. In the less distant future, I need to finish up the conversation between Jack, Teal'c, and Jen(n) by probably having Jen(n) getting some little itty bitty morsel of information out of Jack. Then she needs to relay that to Al and Sam, who by then, are locked up in the brig, soon to be visited by General Hammond, shortly after Jennifer arrives! And voila, Wonderhair!
...I'm going to go write something and drink Dr. Pepper. Might be back later... Might not... This brainstorming session is over. To continue, please insert six quarters in the quarter slot of the milk machine.
Anyway, back to the reason why I got on today, besides the fact that I'm sitting at my mom's office for the next couple hours, and I finished any semblance of homework: I need to brainstorm ideas for "Leap to SG-1".
WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!
Well, from where I am now, I suppose I need to accomplish a couple things. First of all, I need to dream up an explanation for why Al's there, which could be accompanied by the fact that this is obviously in the future from when the show, Quantum Leap, takes place. In case I haven't made that clear, which I suppose I need to do that too, this takes place further in the future than from where Sam B. started. Let's say that the most modern time represented in any way on the show (where Al goes when he's not talking to Sam) is around 1985, conservatively. If my fic takes place in 2003 (despite the fact that Danny's there and the Tok'ra thing seems like it should be more late season 4 or early season 5), that's way in the future for even the future-most part of Quantum Leap. So. I figured that the program continued (and yet, not even the SGC with it's top clearence or whatever knows about it) and is under new administration, new staff, new building, etc.
I've also been asked to include Jacob, which could work out very well. In the end, I want to have some kind of connection between the Tok'ra and the Quantum Leap program... Or maybe...! (Don't read this if you don't want to know the very end.) Maybe the Quantum Leap program goes offworld and fixes things in the Goa'uld/Tok'ra's past, which could cause some things to work out in favor of the Tok'ra or Tau'ri. Maybe Jennifer could ascend and convince the Ancients not to let Anubis ascend, therefore killing him for all time, leaving Abydos intact, the system lords still fighting, and the Lost City unfound. In subsequent chapters or a sequel, I could explore possibilities for alternate realities generated by QL involvement with Goa'uld/Tok'ra history and what changes it might bring about for future/past generations of the SGC (I have a feeling only past generations of history would be affected by any changes, leaving the SGC's generation untouched. It's a complicated idea that requires a diagram for proper explanation... Grr, blogger!)
Yes. So. In the less distant future, I need to finish up the conversation between Jack, Teal'c, and Jen(n) by probably having Jen(n) getting some little itty bitty morsel of information out of Jack. Then she needs to relay that to Al and Sam, who by then, are locked up in the brig, soon to be visited by General Hammond, shortly after Jennifer arrives! And voila, Wonderhair!
...I'm going to go write something and drink Dr. Pepper. Might be back later... Might not... This brainstorming session is over. To continue, please insert six quarters in the quarter slot of the milk machine.
Friday, April 02, 2004
Okay, what I did the other day on another blog (stargateone) was absolute fun! I mean, that was... happy. I should do that again. But I really don't have any ideas. It's funny where you can go when you have a paragraph of pure craziness and desire to expand on it.
Mom didn't laugh, though, which means that... It's going to get downloaded from my brain and tortured before my very eyes and then... *shiver*
Well, there's that and there's the fact that I just ate, which means I'm cold. *re-shiver*
I like this, just kind of talking/typing to myself in case anyone actually dares to try to find out what in the world (or not) is going on in my head.
Oh, tigger, I just printed the nice copy for you. Everyone else: wierdkendogirl is writing an awesome POTC/Inuyasha crossover. I might put a link up later. Anyway, she allowed me to design the cover pic for it. The problem that she didn't seem to notice is that the pic's printed in a landscape orientation when the story's in portrait. (If you don't know what that means, it means the paper it's printed on is sideways.)
But it is a cool pic. From left to right: Sango, Elizabeth Swan, Kagome, Jack Sparrow with Kirara/Kilala right under him, InuYasha, Will Turner, and Miroku. That way, you have all the girls on one side, guys on the other, just opposite of their current significant other, except for Jack and Kilala, who are in the center.
I also made this one little pic from a nice shot of Bloom, whoever played Elizabeth, and Depp standing together in character. Then I took Miroku's face and stuck it on top of Bloom's. I'll explain the significance of that later. I've got to go.
Mom didn't laugh, though, which means that... It's going to get downloaded from my brain and tortured before my very eyes and then... *shiver*
Well, there's that and there's the fact that I just ate, which means I'm cold. *re-shiver*
I like this, just kind of talking/typing to myself in case anyone actually dares to try to find out what in the world (or not) is going on in my head.
Oh, tigger, I just printed the nice copy for you. Everyone else: wierdkendogirl is writing an awesome POTC/Inuyasha crossover. I might put a link up later. Anyway, she allowed me to design the cover pic for it. The problem that she didn't seem to notice is that the pic's printed in a landscape orientation when the story's in portrait. (If you don't know what that means, it means the paper it's printed on is sideways.)
But it is a cool pic. From left to right: Sango, Elizabeth Swan, Kagome, Jack Sparrow with Kirara/Kilala right under him, InuYasha, Will Turner, and Miroku. That way, you have all the girls on one side, guys on the other, just opposite of their current significant other, except for Jack and Kilala, who are in the center.
I also made this one little pic from a nice shot of Bloom, whoever played Elizabeth, and Depp standing together in character. Then I took Miroku's face and stuck it on top of Bloom's. I'll explain the significance of that later. I've got to go.
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