http://www.gateworld.net/news/2006/08/fans_rally_savestargatesg1.com.shtml

thinking on screen for ideas for a snippet of writing...

what do you say when you and the person you're trying to encourage are both overwhelmed with grief? Is there anything you can say?
wow. this is really depressing. I don't feel like feeling depressed. What else can I write about? Legacy's pretty much a sad, dark story, despite . *mwa ha ha ha ha*

Ha, guess it doesn't matter.

Space Pirate

I always wanted to be a pirate. You know, the kind of pirate you read aobut in books with real paper pages. The ones who pillage and plunder and say cool sayings like "Shiver me timbers" and "But why is all the rum gone?" Okay, so I always knew they could keep the rape bit; that's far from getting on my to-do list. But the real draw of being a pirate, the part that everyone fantasizes about, is the freedom. There's nothin' holding you back because the law's already against you--and you're too swift and smart to be caught.

I always wanted to be a pirate. I just never had the finesse to really pull it off.

****

"What do you mean I can't go back to my ship?" A red-headed woman in a torn, soiled, but form-fitting flight suit slammed her fists agianst the counter in the Contraband Regulation Office of the United States.

The calm, brown-haired officer behind the counter spoke slowly. "Your ship and its contents are evidence against you in your upcoming hearing. Now, you have had the right to be silent since you entered." He laughed, as though the statement held some sort of humor. "Anything you say violating your Fifth Amendment rights will be used against you. You don't need an attorney yet, but if you want one, you'll find a way. You know the rest. Please don't resist as these officers escort you to a detention facility."

"No, look, I don't have any 'contraband' on my ship! Nothing! I'll leave if you want, go out to that new Alpha Centauri settlement..."

As calm as the man behind the counter, a pair of uniformed police officers stepped forward and each took the woman by an arm. She grasped the far edge of the counter and held on so tightly that her knuckles turnedd white. "Please, if nothing else, tell me what you found that makes you so sure I need to be locked away!"

The man didn't look up this time, but he did at least respond. "Human remains."

"What!" The woman jerked in the officers' grip and anchored her elbows over the counter's edge. "What do you mean you found human remains? There's none of that on my ship! You've got the wrong captin; mine's teh one that looks like wood--the Black Nebula. You've got the wrong ship; c'mon!"

Annoyed, one of the police pried her up with his shoulder and carried her out. All the while, she pounded steadily on his back.

****

Okay, so I'm a peaceful pirate. Sort of like Robin Hood. I don't do it for the riches; I only take what I need to keep going, and the Nebula's not fancy. I meant what I said back there; there'd better not be any 'human remains' on my ship, or someone's gettin' dropped at the next port. I don't kill people, and I don't want anyone to be harmed. If I stole so much from anyone that they can't live anymore on what they've got, well, they're welcome to come with.

Besides all that, I just plain don't want no one to be rottin' away on my ship! Dead bodies clog up the life support systems, and that's not something I want to have to replace!

OC Spin-off of one of the early Stargate episodes....


Though the second honeymoon was his idea, Vinnet chose the vacation location. As things turned out, it was no longer the secluded retreat she recalled it to be.

The couple stepped out of the Stargate onto the doorsetp of a primative village. Wood and cloth huts were barely distinguishable over the village's rope and cloth perimeter, especially since the builders seemed to have found no dye whatsoever. Or was the dye merely an indistinguishable shade of brownish-tan?

As they stood staring, a group of armed horsemen stormed from the cloth boundary and approached, strategically surrounding the two. One stopped directly in front of them; he appeared to be a leader, though his wicked-looking bow looked just as strong and well-used--and deadly--as the others'. "Why have you come?"

Sarah frowned up at him; she had enough greater experience than her husband to know that the planet should have been deserted. "Excuse us, but we came to partake in your local resort. Can you direct us there?"

The mounted men exchanged surprised and disgusted glances, and their leader glared directly at David Rice. "You should know better than to let your woman speak in public, especially without her face covered."

"What?" He frowned, unnerved by the obvious inequality here.

"It means death," the leader explained, "but come. Perhaps if this is her first offense, an arrangement can be made for her continued well-being." He nodded his head behind him to the village, and he and the other horsemen rotated their mounds to face it, allowing them to herd the strangers safely into a confined area.

***

Immediately upon entering the cloth boundary, Sarah was jostled into a separate part of the encampment, one in which all the occupants were female and clothed in flowing skirts streaming from tight or modest bodices. From there, she ofund herself ushered into a tent and provided with an embroidered blue dress. Only one of the seemingly ever-present crowd remained: a motherly-type woman with kind, almond-shaped eyes and tangled black hair. "Go ahead and change," she commanded, her tone soft but stern, in the same tone that tells a child that his mother is angry but attempting to remain calm.

Having caught a scent akin to rancid meat, blood, and body odor mixed together, Sarah skeptically lifted the gown with two strategically-placed pinches. "This? Do you realize how glad I was to be done with fancy gowns after I accidentally tore my wedding dress?"

The matron eyed the Tok'ra's clothes with an equal amount of skepticism. "It is an affront to our integrity when a woman wears a man's clothes."

She frowned, taking in her spaghetti-strap shirt and embroidered bell-bottom jeans. "You're not going to find many men wearing anything like this."

"But it is not a skirt." She pushed the blue gown closer to the younger woman. "Put this on before I dress you myself!"

Sarah reluctantly obliged after her symbiote reminded her that they would have to find their husband before attempting an escape; a raucus in a dressing tent might lead to his demise elsewhere. As she turned around and remorsefully exchanged her comfortable clothes for a gown that was too tight and too long, the matron grabbed hold of her left hand and tugged at its adornment. "Rings are only for the rich, girl."

She clenched the hand into a fist and jerked it out of the matron's clawing fingers. "Touch it and die," she bit out, not thinking of the words' literal meaning. "Clothes don't mean much to me, but that ring is a symbol, one I'm not about to forsake."

The matron's eyes narrowed. "I can make you do little, but it would do you well to obey the man who will see you after me."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she puleld the dress on and barely managed to close it. "I doubt it. I'm not in the habit of completely obeying anyone, even those I'm closest to and respect the most," she admitted, thinking of how often she ate chocolate against her symbiote's wishes.

The woman stepped forward and sinched the gown tighter to the Tok'ra's body. "You had better start. There are consequences here you aren't accustomed to."

She gasped witht he force the woman used and thanked Vinnet that she was healthy enough to deal with less oxygen. "Not just peanut butter or this suffocation?" She received a glare that was a clear no. "All right, well, I didn't mean to come here; can't David and I just leave?"

"That is up to him--if Munro and Pansin have no further interest in either of you."

Sarah slowly turned back to fully face the matron, becoming astoutly aware of a misplaced catch digging into the small of her back and the fact that she would either have to lift her skirts--thereby keeping her hands full most of the time--or take very small steps--thereby limiting her motion. Either way, the dress served as an effective means to limit her potential as an adversary. Glancing to the other's clothing, she noticed that it lacked the same drawbacks; the skirt ended at her ankles and appeared formless and baggy rather than tight and restrictive.

She dismissed it for the moment, figuring Vinnet would think of a solution at the opportune moment. "You just watched me change, and I don't even know your name."

For the first time since she entered the tnet, a smile became evident on the old matron's wrinkled face. "I am Jalali. How are you called?"

"Sarah, and my symbiote's name is--"

"Irrelevant," Jalali insisted, unfamiliar with the term. "Come. Pansin wishes to meet you as soon as you are decent." From an indistinguishable pice of furniture by her side,, she picked up what Sarah had assumed to be a handkercheif, though now she saw that it was attached to an elaborate headdress that was suspiciously the same shade of blue as her dress. "Put this on, and cover your facce when you leave this area."

The Tok'ra took it from her then stared at it as if it had bit her. "This is heavy!"

Jalali chuckled gently. "That's the price of beauty, girl." She moved behind Sarah and yanked on her long hair in a manner that could have had some constructive purpose. "Hold still."

"It's hard when you're ripping out my hair," she replied, with ann abortive attempt to face the impromptu hairstylist.

But with most of her hair locked in Jalali's grip, it succeeded only in lifting her hair off her neck. As he subject settled again, the native ran a rough-edged fingernail along the thin line of a scar, sending shivers through Sarah. "Could you please not do that?"

"How did you get this scar?" she wondered, tracing it wagain ith her fingertip.

Usually unwilling to discuss it and now in a bad mood, Sarah glared emphatically at the wall in front of her. "It's personal."

Jalali's voice grew stern again. "Who hurt you?"

She turned around slowly, this time with the other's consent, as though any eye contact might permaturely end her unappreciated protectiveness. "My friend had no intention of hurting me, and she did her very best to heal it afterwards. Now, if you don't mind, David and I would love to get all the formalities over with so we can go home."

Jalali motioned for Sarah to turn back around, but she refused. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but will it be good enough if I braid it?"

The matron nodded. "It will suffice."

Sighing with the first relief she'd felt so far, Sarah fixed her hair with quick, well-practiced motions. "What now?"

*

Jalali led the Tok'ra to another cloth barrier, and theree had her don the headdress, which Vinnet complained stressed Sarah's neck too much. The native woman calmly strapped a veil across her own face then across Sarah's, hiding everything but their eyes.

*

David watched helplessly as the crowd separated him from his wife. Despite his desperate attempts to break through it to get to her,, he could not overcome so many. For him, she was more than just his wife--she was also his tour guide and protector when off-world. On the previous world they'd visited, the mere mention of the fact that she was a Tok'ra brought her more prestige than either of them thought necessary. Apparently, the smae would not work here.

He was helplessly herded by the horsemen to a hut in the center of the village; there, two of them dismounted and shoved him inside. A minute later, the lead horseman entered and reclined on a nest of cushions in the cneter of the back of the tent. He indicated a smaller next of cushions a few feet in front of him, and David nervously sat there.

"Where are you from that you do not know the laws?" the young, black-haired leader demanded.

"A planet called Earth, why?" David shifted on the cushions; was it the pillows or his anxiety that made his position so uncomfortable? "What laws do I not know about?"

The black-haired man blinked in surprise. "The laws protecting women's modesty. When you arrived, your woman was wearing the clothes of a man, her face was uncovered, and she spoke without being spoken to."

"Yeah...?" He glanced around at the primative style of the tnet, at all the weapons and outdated signs of wealth. Then he turned his attention back to the leader, a sinking feeling of foreboding settling in him. Just because the Stargate was extremely advanced technology, it didn't mean that all the places it led were anywhere near as advanced--technologically or socially. "I just don't have a problem with that. I know she loves me and she wouldn't cheat on me; that's all the assurance of her 'modesty' I need."

"That's not enough for everyone. Laws and laws. If we forsake one, we might forsake any and foolishly exchange order for anarchy."

David frowned. "The women on Earth violate your laws all the time, and we don't have anarchy," he mumbled, suddenly amazed at women's achievments in the United States.

Apparently, the man didn't hear. "Such audacity as your woman showed is usually rewarded with death. Unless you provide ample reason to do otherwise, I must carry out the punishment."

"Okay..." He sighed, trying to think of anything that might help. "When we came, we weren't aware of your laws. We didn't even know anyone lived here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is ignorance an excuse for murder where you come from?"

"No, but it's a factor in determining a just punishment." Realizing the difficulty he'd endure defending his wife, David felt his skin go numb and a cold weight settle in his stomach. "Another factor would be... the consequences of killing her. She has powerful friends who would avenge her death." He didn't know for sure if that were true, but he was certain that either the SGC or her fellow Tok'ra would use whatever means available to them to free her--if only he could convince this primative madman not to kill her first.

The "primative madman" nodded thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you are right and death is not the best form of retribution, especially her death. After all, it was your responsibility to teach her proper and modest behavior."

Gulping with sudden trepidation, David realized his mistake: they were her friends who might avenge her. "Wasn't that her parents' responsibility? I haven't been married to her long enough to break any habits."

The man smiled slightly, and relaxed back into his next of cushions. "I will consider that."

Before either could say anything further, the curtain over the doorway whipped aside and two figures in flowing skirts entered, stopping just inside and letting the curtain fall back into place. The leading figure, dressed in brown, bowed respectfully, but the one clothed in expensive-looking, embroidered blue fabric walked around and sat beside David, leaning gently against him. David, unaware of who was behind the embroidered veil, leaned away slightly. The leader glared at the whole show then glanced at the brown-clothed figure.

"Please wait outside, Jalali."

She bowed her head. "Yes, Pansin." Then she retreated to the other side fo the curtain, and he turned his attention back to the couple.

"A woman does not sit with a man while he conducts business."

They eyes above the veil narrowed, and the blue figure got up and leaned against the tent's central support column instead. "Of course not," Sarah's voice replied.

"Nor does she speak without being spoken to," Pansin added.

She shrugged, innocently glanced at the ceiling, and barely caught her headdress before it slid off her head.

David stared at her. Yes, he recognized her eyes and posture now, but seeing her dressed in such a way, he could barely recognize anything else. He shifted in his seat, divided between the urge to stand with his wife or sit and "conduct business" with the Mongol. "You're not going to be able to keep her under your laws for long; you'd better let us leave," he cautioned.

Pansin shook his head. "We still have not carried out just retribution for the breaking of our laws."

David glanced nervously at his wife, wishing their roles were reversed. "Did you have something in mind besides anyone's death?" He glimpsed the further narrowing of Sarah's eyes and the slow, steady rising and falling of the veil; she was trying hard to control her temper, and for some reason, Vinnet hadn't taken control.

The leader's grin made him nervous before the Mongol even spoke. "We will separate you. This will teach you that you do not deserve a woman if you cannot control her and will teach her how to be a woman."

Sarah raised her hand half-heartedly into the air. Sensing that he finally might have some control, David responded, "What do you this of this, Sarah?"

She straightened up from her relaxed pose immediately and moved to stand right behind him. "This is ridiculous! We've got enough roles going on how that we don't need to take on some primative society's perception of what a woman's supposed to act like. If you agree to this mikta's terms, willingly or not, I'm going to ask Vinnet to deal with this, and she won't be peaceful about it. Our next plan of action, regardless of this guy's 'sentence' is to take you and go home.

"And, David, if he needs convincing, remind him of Vinnet's centuries of espionage and the extensive combat training associated with that." Finally done with her rant, she glared pointedly at Pansin.

The Mongol leader frowned, but still addressed David. "You let your woman talk like that?"

David nodded. "She is more knowledgable than I am about these things; I like to hear her assessment. Besides which, she's right. Vinnet has probably had enough of your prejudices."

"And who is Vinnet?"

Unsure of how to explain, David glanced to his wife, though he knew Pansin wouldn't let her speak unless spoken to. Maybe if he appeared to be completely in command, he could convince the Mongol to let them leave. "Vinnet is a warrior who..." Many cultures hated the Goa'uld and for good reason. Would this culture punish his wives for their existance? "...who travels with a cloaking device, which makes her invisible, and who speaks only to Sarah. She's impatient with this delay in our travels." With the veil over his wife's face, he couldn't tell if she was smiling or scowling.

Pansin's expression, however, was perfectly obvious: a self-satisfied grin. "You threaten me with a voiceless phantom? Do you take me for a fool?"

"She's not voiceless; she only speaks to and through Sarah." He looked up at his wife, the visible one. "Does she have anything to say?"

Sarah nodded, closed her eyes, and looked away for a moment, completely hiding the flashing eyes that meant Vinnet had taken control. "You know me too well to question whether I would like to speak," she answered, not bothering to hide her voice. Unlike her host had, she now turned to Pansin. "Unless we have anything further to discuss, David and I will now leave."

With a speed none fo the three had expected, the Mongol leapt from his cushion nest and backhanded her across the face. "You know our laws now; there is no excuse to defy them."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Vinnet punched him in the stomach, swept his feet from under him, and pinned him to the floor. "Both Sarah and my husband warned you I would not stand mroe abuse. You now have two options: let us leave peacefully or struggle now and suffer the consequences. I am not as mild as those I travel with."

The Mongol leader struggled slighly against Vinnet's well-placed grip. "It is disgraceful for a woman to fight; you need to learn how to be a woman."

"Tok'ra do not have gender. We all fight or study or lead, regardless of the gender of those we fight through."

Pansin shook his head, and with a twist of his wrist, drew a knife from his felt and jabbed it into her torso. Alarmed, Vinnet slammed his head hard against the column her host had been leaning on, knocking him unconscious. Then she retreated to heal her host's body.

David looked even more alarmed than her symbiote felt. "Are you okay?" he shouted.

Trying not to go into shock, Sarah stared down at her bloodied bodice. Not really knowing what to do since her symbiote was ignoring her, she pulled the knife out with a pitiful grunt.

Almost as much in shock but aware they had to stop the bleeding, David took the knife from her hand and cut off a portion of her gown then bundled it up and pressed it against the wound. Then, as gently as he could, he laid her flat on the ground, hoping gravity could help stem the bleeding. "Hang in there, Sarah, you hear?"

"Dave, he pulled a knife on me. We weren't going to hurt him, not if he cooperated. But he stabbed me. Vinnet says it's the intestines, liver, and Bauch. He could've--"

He clapped his hand gently over her mouth. "Save your energy for Vinnet. We'll be okay." He raised his voice, and looking to the tent's door. "Medic! We need a medic in here!"

There was no response. "Healer," Sarah corrected.

He nodded. "We need a healer!"

Jalali poked her head in then immediately rushed to Pansin's side. "Are you okay?" She checked his pulse then tried to wake him to no avail.

"He might have a mild concussion," Sarah whispered, "but Vinnet thinks he should be fine."

David relayed her words to the matron, leaving out the mention of Vinnet. "But before he passed out, he stabbed my wife!"

The matron called in two of the horsemen from outside. One watched over Pansin while the other held David away to allow Jalali access to Sarah. The matron knelt beside her and peeled away the sticky strips of fabric to study the wound. "This is not good."

"Tell me about it!" Sarah moaned. "I'm not going to be able to eat until tomorrow night!"

The matron replaced the bandages as they were and placed her hand on Sarah's forehead, looking seriously into her face. "You may die. It is the spirits' judgement of your crimes."

"Your spirits had better answer to my God."

Jalali turned back to David. "Continue to place pressure on the wound if you want her to live."

He nodded, pulling free of the guard's grip. "And keep her quiet and concentrated on healing. Right."

She nodded once and fled from the tent. The two horsemen glared at him but said nothing. David returned to his wife's side, pressed one hand with the fabric against her wound, and held his other hand to her cheek.

Slowly, her eyes opened, and she glanced around the tent, her gaze finally settling on him. "Now would be a good time to get out. They won't expect an injured person to run away."

"Maybe because you can't?" he reminded softly.

Her shoulders twitched in an imitation of a shrug. "It'll hurt, but even if I get worse, I'll be much better off among the Tok'ra or at the SGC. Plus, it wouldn't scar as badly. Not to mention that we'd get out of this whole mess."

"Shh." He pressed a little harder with the fabric. "Save your energy."

"Dave, this isn't chocolate ice cream. I wouldn't suggest it without Vinnet's consent. She's working from the inside out to avoid internal bleeding; the inside's much better than it was. This might be our only chance."

He nodded to indicate the horsemen. "With them here?"

She looked. "Seth and Sokar, I thought we were alone when Jolly left." she leaned back more fully. "Some honeymoon. It would've probably been better if the Goa'uld had retaken this planet."

"Why?" He had never heard her speak in such a way concerning the Goa'uld.

"They wouldn't go through this biased junk. They'd just say 'You're a Tok'ra. I don't like you. Let me kill you' and we'd get on with it, not like this drawn-out parody of the workings of Congress--"

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Get off your soap-box."

"That's kind of hard to do while I'm lying here, trying not to bleed all over the oriental rug."

"Just try."

A third voice broke in. "You said something about silence?" Jalali reminded as she entered again, followed by a younger girl carrying a package probably containing medical supplies.

"We were just discussing your culture and the possibility of cutting our honeymoon short," Sarah explained loudly. "The healers back home have medicines that would make me better in minutes."

Jalali took a leaf from her assistant, removed the bandage, and placed it inot the wound. "Impossible. But this will take away your pain."

Sarah jerked as the leaf touched her. "No more! Please, no more. Dave, don't let her use any more of that. Take it off!"

Both of them frowned. 'What's wrong?" David asked.

She settled a little, but met his eyes pleadingly. "That plant is the active ingredient in the serum Ra used." She had told him the horror story several times. "If it paralyzes Vinnet, I might die! Keep it away!"

Without consulting with the presumed "healer," David pulled the leaf out, cut a clean bandage from his shirt, and applied pressure again. Then, to clam the miffed native, he held up the bloody leaf in his other hand. "She's alergic to this."

"it will numb the pain," Jalali insisted.

"It numbs more than just the pain, and she needs that to heal."

The matron frowned but nodded. "We need to move her from here."

David worriedly glanced to his wife, who nodded her consent. "We'll be fine by morning; moving now won't make much difference."

***

Jalali left them in an underfurnished by unoccupied tent, presumably alone for the night. Restlessly torn between caring for his wife and getting ready for bed, he sorted through the few belongings they'd brough while Sarah slept. Nothing had the potential to help them. He finally decided to sleep, though it was still early int he evening. Before he did, however, he pulled away the bandages on his wife's abdomen to check the wound.

Sarah shifted slighly and unhooked her veil, at last revealing her face. "Okay, now I feel better." She sat up slightly, resting on an elbow, and rubbed at her eyes. Then she gazed inquiringly at David's probing fingers, which met only intact skin.

"Vinnet did a good job for only a couple of hours," he commented.

Her eyes flashed. "Thank you, though it is my responsibility to heal my host." She sat up farther and pulled the headdress off. "Where do we stand concerning our departure?"

He shrugged. "We could probably go now if you're up for it."

"We could recover from worse, if need be. We should have left long ago. I'm sorry, David. That may have been our best opportunity."

"I would think so," broke in a third voice. The couple looked up to see Pansin had entered, followed by a pair of henchmen. "My father and I have decided on a punishment for your crimes." His smile was sickening. "We will relieve you of your woman since you cannot handle her. She will then be beaten and sold."

David's voice was slow and low, giving the impression of a patient strength and fury near its ignition point. "You have unfairly detained us all day and denied us our freedom. We spoke reasonably, to no end, and when Vinnet clearly expressed herself on your terms, you stabbed her and now plan to subject us to mroe injustice. Where does it end, Pansin?"

"I just told you. That will be the end."