Legacy Scrap
(Same as before--Announcement ch 14 spoilers. Same ones, I think. Maybe not. Just typing to see what people think.)
David waited nervously in a room with Dehrwin, hoping only that Sarah wouldn't find out what he was doing unless everything turned out okay. "Tell me one more time why I should trust this guy?"
Dehrwin rolled his eyes as he sat on a chair beside the door, relaxed. "He is a Tok'ra, and they are allied with the Tau'ri."
He shook his head; the information was no comfort when he already knew it. "So just because we're allies, I'm supposed to automatically trust this guy?"
"You believe he may be untrustworthy?" the Jaffa replied disdainfully.
"I believe I don't like having to trust someone I don't know," he replied tersely. "Can't you tell me anything else about him? What's he been up to in the last year?"
The Jaffa, who was easily twice as massive as David, sent a warning glare his way. "Many times, it is extremely obvious that you are Tau'ri."
Suddenly, the door opened, allowing in the subject of their discussion and closing again. Vandrof scanned the room, taking note of its occupants. "You wanted to see me?" he asked Dehrwin, who pointed to David.
"We met once," David said. "You already had your host by the time I got there."
Vandrof frowned. "You left shortly after that. We didn't have time to speak." He glanced behind him to Dehrwin then back to the human. "Why are you serving as a lotaur?"
David shook his head. "Only after you tell me why you're serving a Goa'uld. Sarah's pretty freaked out about that."
"Wait," Dehrwin broke in. "Why did you not say before that you knew each other?"
"We don't know each other well," David answered, not taking his eyes off Vandrof, "but we apparently should."
Vandrof nodded. "I have not seen Vinnet since she obtained permission from the council to remain on Earth for another year. How is she?"
"She was doing fine until you showed up," David replied venomously. "Whatever you told her while you were chatting, it really unnerved her."
Dehrwin's eyes widened, and he interrupted again. "You lied to me! You said you wanted the Goa'uld out of Senane, but you don't, do you."
"Not now, Dehrwin," Vandrof replied. "No one wantts to see any harm done to her." He turned back to David. "Tacita is not a Goa'uld, but she does not want Vinnet to know. This entire palace is a test designed to show the character of those who request to serve her. I was sure she'd pass until I heard that she'd brought a lotaur and Jaffa. None of us ever have lotaurs." Both he and Dehrwin looked to David for explanation.
"If it makes you feel better, she told me not to come," he admitted, "but I promised her back on Earth that I wouldn't let her go. When I caught up with her offworld, I was able to convince her to let me tag along."
"You had to convince her?" Dehrwin interrupted disbelievingly.
Vandrof nodded impatiently. "The Goa'uld in the throne room of this palace is, in fact, a Tok'ra, a friend of mine." He turned his attention back to David. "And of yours as well. But who are the Jaffa?"
"How do I know I can trust you with their identities? Vinnet feels responsible for their well-being; I'm not going to poke holes in their safety net."
"Despite a shift in priorities, I am still who I've been--I have not changed as much as Vinnet has."
"I think it's that priority shift that's got her worried."
Vandrof's eyes shifted uneasily from David to some indeterminate infinity behind him. "The highest priority of any Tok'ra is to protect Egeria and to futher her cause. Ever since Egeria was lost to us, her cause has been in the forefront of our minds. But now some of us have to switch back to our previous committment."
Friday, March 31, 2006
Legacy
(Warning: Announcement chapter 14 spoilers)
After finally getting his wife calmed down, David roamed the caste's dim, high-ceilinged halls in search of water for both of them. After twenty minutes, he found what appeared to be a kitchen, though it was a far cry from the kind of kitchen he was accustomed to. He wildly began searching the bizzare cabinets for cups, sliding open many of the stone and gold doors with enough force that they rebounded from the end of their tracks. Two cabinets in a row, he heard extra bangs and suspiciously spun to find a tall, muscular Jaffa in full armor, whom he recognized as Dehrwin, one of the Jaffa Tacita had sent.
Suddenly nervous at his presence, David bowed exactly as Vinnet had taught him and straightened up while watching the Jaffa's toes. He couldn't help but notice that Dehrwin
had cornered him the first time he left his wife's presence. "May I help you?"
Dehrwin's loud, demanding voice unnerved him even more than his imposing presence. "How long have you served your master?"
He shrugged, belatedly realizing a real lotaur might not. The real answer was that he didn't serve her, but he couldn't say that. "About a year."
"How often does she treat you poorly?"
David quickly glanced up to see Dehrwin's expression, but there was no emotion to be read. He still had no clue explaining the Jaffa's purpose. His mind reeling for an answer, he improvised. "She treats me much better than I could ever deserve." It wasn't a lie, and it even sounded humble and subserviant--score one for the fake lotaur!
"Is that so?" Dehrwin retorted. "I heard she reprimanded you this afternoon." He stared at David's folded hands. "Did she also bruise your hands?"
"Yeah..." He looked at his hand, where Sarah's extra-strong grip had been focused while she gave birth. "Um..."
The Jaffa's voice softened. "You need not be treated in such a way."
He frowned, desperately trying to rein in the frustration he felt at not being able to truthfully justify his wife's actions. "You weren't there; you can't judge her by the result of a situation you're unaware of. I was there for her when she needed me."
"I understand your loyalty, but you must not sacrifice your well-being for it."
"It was an isolated incident," he insisted, now forgetting the humble servance facade and glaring at the Jaffa.
Dehrwin stepped forward menacingly. "If you continue in her service, it will no longer be an isolated occurance."
"You don't know that, because you don't know her! You've only known about her for a single day." Shaking his head, David took a quick, deep, calming breath. "You've only been around her for less than a day. After a while, you'll see that she wouldn't do anything to me. Besides, why do you care?"
The Jaffa lowered his head and his voice, as though he were revealing a secret. "I believe in freedom for humans and Jaffa. The Jaffa already have a strong start; humans are still subject to the oppression of the Goa'uld."
"So do you see me as an equal?"
Dehrwin hesitated just a little too long.
"That's fine. It's just a question." He had asked only to determine where he stood in the other's mind. "And it sounds like you're very noble. But I'm not feeling at all oppressed at the moment."
"Vandrof said Senane used to live among the Tau'ri. Is that true?"
He took a moment to recalled what "Tau'ri" meant--Earthlings--before answering cautiously, "Yes."
"Then you are a Tau'ri?"
He swallowed, wondering if he was about to get into trouble. "Yes."
Dehrwin shook his head. "Then how can you have no complaint here? I have heard much of the Tau'ri; they are the ones who end systems such as we have here. How can you be content with that?"
At a loss for an answer, David shrugged. "I just... can."
"Is her host a Tau'ri as well?"
"My wife."
Dehrwin nodded his understanding. "So being her lotaur, you have ample opportunity to sabotage her efforts until you can find someone to remove the Gao'uld and restore your wife to you."
"Of course." It was so nice of him to provide David with a cover story.
"I can do that for you."
The Tau'ri panicked for a moment; he couldn't really let anyone remove Vinnet, who was as much his wife as Sarah was. Then he feigned regret at a lost opportunity. "The SGC gave me this mission. They want me to find out as much about her and where she same from as I can--in case any more Goa'uld can make it to Earth the same way. So until I know that, I can't let you do that."
A bright grin grew on Dehrwin's face as he listened. "We could always interrogate her first."
"No! I couldn't put her through that!"
"But you could allow a Goa'uld to control her, to invade her mind that much longer?" the Jaffa snapped, disgust clear in his empathetic tone.
"To prevent others from going through this? Yes!" Beginning to wonder if the other believed him, David hoped he wouldn't have to resort to the truth; his wives would be furious.
"Interrogation would be an effective means to get that information in a time frame that would allow you to prevent any similar Goa'uld action among the Tau'ri."
"When I say no, I mean it," he insisted, his voice growing louder. "The other Jaffa, the ones she brought with us, are intensely loyal. If they hear wind of any action against her, we're both going to be up a creek."
Dehrwin frowned, missing the meaning of the phrase. "Then when you have your information, how will you put it to use?"
"I'll contact the SGC, who'll send a team here to extract us. I've got it under control. All you should do is create a diversion for the Jaffa when the time comes."
The Jaffa seemed to ignore him. "You could obtain the information you seek from Vandrof. He seems to know much of Senane."
"Yeah, he does." But if he were really a traitor to the Tok'ra, would he be safe speaking to him alone, even if the information he obtained could be valuable to Vinnet?
(Warning: Announcement chapter 14 spoilers)
After finally getting his wife calmed down, David roamed the caste's dim, high-ceilinged halls in search of water for both of them. After twenty minutes, he found what appeared to be a kitchen, though it was a far cry from the kind of kitchen he was accustomed to. He wildly began searching the bizzare cabinets for cups, sliding open many of the stone and gold doors with enough force that they rebounded from the end of their tracks. Two cabinets in a row, he heard extra bangs and suspiciously spun to find a tall, muscular Jaffa in full armor, whom he recognized as Dehrwin, one of the Jaffa Tacita had sent.
Suddenly nervous at his presence, David bowed exactly as Vinnet had taught him and straightened up while watching the Jaffa's toes. He couldn't help but notice that Dehrwin
had cornered him the first time he left his wife's presence. "May I help you?"
Dehrwin's loud, demanding voice unnerved him even more than his imposing presence. "How long have you served your master?"
He shrugged, belatedly realizing a real lotaur might not. The real answer was that he didn't serve her, but he couldn't say that. "About a year."
"How often does she treat you poorly?"
David quickly glanced up to see Dehrwin's expression, but there was no emotion to be read. He still had no clue explaining the Jaffa's purpose. His mind reeling for an answer, he improvised. "She treats me much better than I could ever deserve." It wasn't a lie, and it even sounded humble and subserviant--score one for the fake lotaur!
"Is that so?" Dehrwin retorted. "I heard she reprimanded you this afternoon." He stared at David's folded hands. "Did she also bruise your hands?"
"Yeah..." He looked at his hand, where Sarah's extra-strong grip had been focused while she gave birth. "Um..."
The Jaffa's voice softened. "You need not be treated in such a way."
He frowned, desperately trying to rein in the frustration he felt at not being able to truthfully justify his wife's actions. "You weren't there; you can't judge her by the result of a situation you're unaware of. I was there for her when she needed me."
"I understand your loyalty, but you must not sacrifice your well-being for it."
"It was an isolated incident," he insisted, now forgetting the humble servance facade and glaring at the Jaffa.
Dehrwin stepped forward menacingly. "If you continue in her service, it will no longer be an isolated occurance."
"You don't know that, because you don't know her! You've only known about her for a single day." Shaking his head, David took a quick, deep, calming breath. "You've only been around her for less than a day. After a while, you'll see that she wouldn't do anything to me. Besides, why do you care?"
The Jaffa lowered his head and his voice, as though he were revealing a secret. "I believe in freedom for humans and Jaffa. The Jaffa already have a strong start; humans are still subject to the oppression of the Goa'uld."
"So do you see me as an equal?"
Dehrwin hesitated just a little too long.
"That's fine. It's just a question." He had asked only to determine where he stood in the other's mind. "And it sounds like you're very noble. But I'm not feeling at all oppressed at the moment."
"Vandrof said Senane used to live among the Tau'ri. Is that true?"
He took a moment to recalled what "Tau'ri" meant--Earthlings--before answering cautiously, "Yes."
"Then you are a Tau'ri?"
He swallowed, wondering if he was about to get into trouble. "Yes."
Dehrwin shook his head. "Then how can you have no complaint here? I have heard much of the Tau'ri; they are the ones who end systems such as we have here. How can you be content with that?"
At a loss for an answer, David shrugged. "I just... can."
"Is her host a Tau'ri as well?"
"My wife."
Dehrwin nodded his understanding. "So being her lotaur, you have ample opportunity to sabotage her efforts until you can find someone to remove the Gao'uld and restore your wife to you."
"Of course." It was so nice of him to provide David with a cover story.
"I can do that for you."
The Tau'ri panicked for a moment; he couldn't really let anyone remove Vinnet, who was as much his wife as Sarah was. Then he feigned regret at a lost opportunity. "The SGC gave me this mission. They want me to find out as much about her and where she same from as I can--in case any more Goa'uld can make it to Earth the same way. So until I know that, I can't let you do that."
A bright grin grew on Dehrwin's face as he listened. "We could always interrogate her first."
"No! I couldn't put her through that!"
"But you could allow a Goa'uld to control her, to invade her mind that much longer?" the Jaffa snapped, disgust clear in his empathetic tone.
"To prevent others from going through this? Yes!" Beginning to wonder if the other believed him, David hoped he wouldn't have to resort to the truth; his wives would be furious.
"Interrogation would be an effective means to get that information in a time frame that would allow you to prevent any similar Goa'uld action among the Tau'ri."
"When I say no, I mean it," he insisted, his voice growing louder. "The other Jaffa, the ones she brought with us, are intensely loyal. If they hear wind of any action against her, we're both going to be up a creek."
Dehrwin frowned, missing the meaning of the phrase. "Then when you have your information, how will you put it to use?"
"I'll contact the SGC, who'll send a team here to extract us. I've got it under control. All you should do is create a diversion for the Jaffa when the time comes."
The Jaffa seemed to ignore him. "You could obtain the information you seek from Vandrof. He seems to know much of Senane."
"Yeah, he does." But if he were really a traitor to the Tok'ra, would he be safe speaking to him alone, even if the information he obtained could be valuable to Vinnet?
Monday, March 27, 2006
Haven't forgotten about the Announcement. But as I'm trying to wind down the story, it's getting really sappy, and I can't stand it. I need to get it over and done with, whether it's good or not, but I'm having a hard time thinking with the characters while everything's going on in my life. I'm guessing it may take me until July to get over this bump in the road, but I'm not sure. School won't wind down until June, at which point, I'll be going to SC and either PGSS or PGSA for creative writing, depending on whether I get accepted to the latter. That doesn't end until July, but I'll probably have AP stuff to work on over the summer. So... It's not looking good. Legacy's been bugging me for a few weeks now, and I can't help but work on it. Probably up to fifteen or twenty pages by now, and I can't share until I finish the next two chaps of the Announcement. It's annoying, because I'm really falling in love this with story. It's so different from everything that I've written, which is pretty funny, because it's still fanfiction. But the entire thing has this intense irony permeating each scene which makes you (or at least me) really frustrated with the characters. (Which is fun--it's not often that an author can be frustrated with her characters!) I know what I'm working up to in this story, and have even gotten inspired for a sequel, though I doubt anyone will want to read it. At least it gives me direction for this one. II just wish I could hurry up and finish the next two chapters of the Announcement so I can try to debut Legacy. I doubt anyone's going to like it as fanfiction, though; I should look into switching it over to original fiction, though that'll add some serious amounts of exposition that I'm not sure I can stand. GRR!!!! I wanna write it, but besides being a little stuck, I should be working on other things. Anne's coming in two days, and we're still not ready for her. (Can you imagine me having a sister for a month? This'll be odd!) The guidance office still hasn't gotten back to me on what I'm supposed to do. I'll go to the main office if I don't hear back by Wednesday, though that's cutting it pretty short. The GC's going to wait until I have a study hall, I bet, and that's a whopping three hours before we pick her up. Feels like that'd be cutting it awful close. And this isn't the time I really want to get shortchanged on study halls. I'm behind in about everything. Big history test on Thursday and Friday that I can't stand to study for, but I have to. Reading The Great Gatsby, too. Sorry, Mrs. S, but that book needs to be burned! I don't care if he's got that symbolism stuff and silent depth going throughout it. I'm starting to believe some authors can do that without putting too much forethought into it--that's what it feels like I'm doing in Legacy! It started with my huge plans for Sarah and Vinnet, and then a few more plot bunnies attacked (two), and now it's amazingly complicated. I mean, I don't think I even really considered whether I was going to do the scene with Vandrof (amazing irony, I'm telling you, kinda like the end of Reeses, only more dramatic); I just wrote it. *sigh* Back to the real world. I'm stuck reading Gatsby again. I was so hoping we'd get it over with at the beginning of the year, when it was fresh in my mind and I wouldn't have to read it again. There were some points I wanted to cry when I was reading it, and not for any sympathy for the characters. They can all become Goa'ulds for all I care. *grin* There's a crossover for you! Daisy was really one of Hathor's hosts. Not too pleased with physics at the moment. But, hey, I got accepted to PGSS!!! Now if only I can prove to myself that I can do this science and engineering stuff. The longer I fail at it (aka high B's), the more I wonder if this is really what I want to do. I know it's not my first option, but it is my second. I doubt I can make a living off of writing, not now with my moodiness and laziness.
Ego's getting a nice watering this week. Amanda and Jenn from the school's literary magazine have been complimenting my submission, which is always nice. (Apparently, I wasn't supposed to put my name on it, but when all I saw were the posters, I wasn't so sure about it.) Anyhow, it's nice to know some people around here appreciate it. Like I said, I got accepted to PGSS, too, so that's shiney. Hopefully, though, I'll get accepted to PGSA. Creative writing is *so* much higher on my priorities than science... It comes more naturally.
Wish me luck when I send my story off to Analog magazine. I'm hoping to get a response.
It's getting late, and I should probably be able to think tomorrow. I'll get on later maybe.
Ego's getting a nice watering this week. Amanda and Jenn from the school's literary magazine have been complimenting my submission, which is always nice. (Apparently, I wasn't supposed to put my name on it, but when all I saw were the posters, I wasn't so sure about it.) Anyhow, it's nice to know some people around here appreciate it. Like I said, I got accepted to PGSS, too, so that's shiney. Hopefully, though, I'll get accepted to PGSA. Creative writing is *so* much higher on my priorities than science... It comes more naturally.
Wish me luck when I send my story off to Analog magazine. I'm hoping to get a response.
It's getting late, and I should probably be able to think tomorrow. I'll get on later maybe.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
http://www.tobiasbuckell.com/crystalrain/excerpt.htm
Just wanted to share this incredibly awesome book I finished a couple hours ago. It's by an author who I got to meet over the summer, and this is his first book. But don't let that keep you from reading it; it's one of the most gripping books I've read in a long time. Right up there with Wen Spencer, who won the John Cambell award a short while ago. Seriously, Tobias Buckell has got to be as good as Timothy Zahn, and possibly better than Kevin J. Anderson and Michael A. Stackpole.
Crystal Rain itself is unique as far as I'm concerned, though it's got elements that remind me of Pirates of the Caribbean (SFBP), Timothy Zahn's Cobras Two, and even the Pack in Wen Spencer's Ukiah series. Add in a pair of cultures, a protagonist without a memory (always fun stuff!), and spiffy, shiney technology.... I'm so glad he's writing another book!
So... I hope I don't sound like a sales person, but it's really awesome. Had he left any holes, this would definately be a candidate for fan fiction, but seeing as how it took me four books to feel ready for Pack fan fiction, that's not going to happen any time soon.
*sigh* Back to boring books now. Of Mice and Men is waiting for me to finish by the end of the weekend. Merg.
I'm starting to see that reading new books is only fun if someone else is reading them with you... No, reading good books is just more fun if someone reads them with you so you can chat about it. *evil grin* Jenn, Jena, get ready for some interesting reading. That's why you're not in AP English, right? (Hmmm, which is worse? Huck Finn or Mice and Men in the same amount of time?)
Just wanted to share this incredibly awesome book I finished a couple hours ago. It's by an author who I got to meet over the summer, and this is his first book. But don't let that keep you from reading it; it's one of the most gripping books I've read in a long time. Right up there with Wen Spencer, who won the John Cambell award a short while ago. Seriously, Tobias Buckell has got to be as good as Timothy Zahn, and possibly better than Kevin J. Anderson and Michael A. Stackpole.
Crystal Rain itself is unique as far as I'm concerned, though it's got elements that remind me of Pirates of the Caribbean (SFBP), Timothy Zahn's Cobras Two, and even the Pack in Wen Spencer's Ukiah series. Add in a pair of cultures, a protagonist without a memory (always fun stuff!), and spiffy, shiney technology.... I'm so glad he's writing another book!
So... I hope I don't sound like a sales person, but it's really awesome. Had he left any holes, this would definately be a candidate for fan fiction, but seeing as how it took me four books to feel ready for Pack fan fiction, that's not going to happen any time soon.
*sigh* Back to boring books now. Of Mice and Men is waiting for me to finish by the end of the weekend. Merg.
I'm starting to see that reading new books is only fun if someone else is reading them with you... No, reading good books is just more fun if someone reads them with you so you can chat about it. *evil grin* Jenn, Jena, get ready for some interesting reading. That's why you're not in AP English, right? (Hmmm, which is worse? Huck Finn or Mice and Men in the same amount of time?)
Friday, February 10, 2006
Page 7, section 2
"Why didn't that work?" Nick demanded, setting Julianne on a section of clear ceiling. He furiously glared at her, already placing the blame for the impending loss of his immense savings.
She busied herself by straightening her clothes to their proper positions while considering why the reset had failed to change the gravity. "Bill's programming must have taken precedence. But I'm not sure. We didn't talk while working on it."
"Of course not. You don't talk to anyone."
She crossed her arms and stared stright at him, as she hadn't done since becoming the ship's hermit. The pitch of her voice rose considerably. "Why should I?"
His jaw dropped in bewilderment. "Oh, come on! You're not still mad about that whole stealing from your entire family thing, are you? That was years ago!"
"My neice died because she couldn't afford her medicine after that!" she yelled, explaining what she had told none of the crew.
"Oh." He stood there, as shocked as if the quiet, diminutive mechanic had punched him in the stomach. All this time, he thought she had been mourning the loss of money. But now he considered how much he had cherished his family before he had discovered the attractiveness of being a con artist. "I didn't know," he whispered in the absence of an apology for his part of it.
She drew in a calming breath, desperately trying to keep her neice's face out of her mind's eye. Distraction always worked best for avoiding tears. "We're still on the ceiling," she resolutely stated.
"Right." Her admission still hung in his memory, the aftertaste of caster oil. He tried to think of what few solutions a common con artist might know. "What if we shut the power off?"
Julianne frowned and looked at him as if his face had turned nebula blue. "Do you want to risk flooding the ship with sewage when the electric containment stops?"
"No, what if we shut the gravity itself off?"
She mentally ran trhough a list of all the technology onboard that could possibly suffer from a lack of gravity, not least of which being any open containers in the refridgerator. She grimaced. "Well, we wouldn't be stuck on the ceiling anymore, but when we turn it back on, we'll go right back to where we are."
"You do know there are three Lawkeeper cruisers waiting for us out there, right?"
"Yes, but..." She bit her lips, thinking, though she didn't come up with anything. "I see your point."
***
Chrys felt only the slightest surprise as her weight seemed to evaporate, allowing her to float away from the ceiling outside the flgith deck with the slightest twitch of a muscle. Having watched the lethargic approach of the small Lawkeeper fleet for five minutes, she immediately pulled herself into the pilot's chair, strapped in, and prepared to leave. It had not escaped her attention that the ships had positioned themselves where she had only two escape routes, both thoroughly covered by the weapons.
Having participated in the government for a decade, Chyrs knew an often-overlooked aspect of Lawkeeper cruisers: the sides had only a sparse scattering of weapons. They might have appropriated an increase in the armament budget that had restricted the density of such weapons, had they had to deal with many hard-core criminals, but the conservative government had no reason to correct a mistake that was not deadly. The Mal'akhu's designers, however, had not missed a detail so important. (Chyrs's substantial threats had made sure of that.)
She aimed her relatively small yacht at a hangar bay that began to open in the sides of one of the larger vessels to let the Mal'akhu dock. Keeping the speed low, she moved her yacht into the may, a cavern that could easily have housed a pair of twenty-second century sports stadiums, built to hold millions of people.
The Mal'akhu straightened out to point at the far side of the ship, where a pair of thick doors blocked the passage all the way through.
A risingg chime blared from the radio; her failure to abide by general apprehension procedure, which involved setting down as near as possible to the entrance door most likely made the ship's commander especially nervous.
"Why didn't that work?" Nick demanded, setting Julianne on a section of clear ceiling. He furiously glared at her, already placing the blame for the impending loss of his immense savings.
She busied herself by straightening her clothes to their proper positions while considering why the reset had failed to change the gravity. "Bill's programming must have taken precedence. But I'm not sure. We didn't talk while working on it."
"Of course not. You don't talk to anyone."
She crossed her arms and stared stright at him, as she hadn't done since becoming the ship's hermit. The pitch of her voice rose considerably. "Why should I?"
His jaw dropped in bewilderment. "Oh, come on! You're not still mad about that whole stealing from your entire family thing, are you? That was years ago!"
"My neice died because she couldn't afford her medicine after that!" she yelled, explaining what she had told none of the crew.
"Oh." He stood there, as shocked as if the quiet, diminutive mechanic had punched him in the stomach. All this time, he thought she had been mourning the loss of money. But now he considered how much he had cherished his family before he had discovered the attractiveness of being a con artist. "I didn't know," he whispered in the absence of an apology for his part of it.
She drew in a calming breath, desperately trying to keep her neice's face out of her mind's eye. Distraction always worked best for avoiding tears. "We're still on the ceiling," she resolutely stated.
"Right." Her admission still hung in his memory, the aftertaste of caster oil. He tried to think of what few solutions a common con artist might know. "What if we shut the power off?"
Julianne frowned and looked at him as if his face had turned nebula blue. "Do you want to risk flooding the ship with sewage when the electric containment stops?"
"No, what if we shut the gravity itself off?"
She mentally ran trhough a list of all the technology onboard that could possibly suffer from a lack of gravity, not least of which being any open containers in the refridgerator. She grimaced. "Well, we wouldn't be stuck on the ceiling anymore, but when we turn it back on, we'll go right back to where we are."
"You do know there are three Lawkeeper cruisers waiting for us out there, right?"
"Yes, but..." She bit her lips, thinking, though she didn't come up with anything. "I see your point."
***
Chrys felt only the slightest surprise as her weight seemed to evaporate, allowing her to float away from the ceiling outside the flgith deck with the slightest twitch of a muscle. Having watched the lethargic approach of the small Lawkeeper fleet for five minutes, she immediately pulled herself into the pilot's chair, strapped in, and prepared to leave. It had not escaped her attention that the ships had positioned themselves where she had only two escape routes, both thoroughly covered by the weapons.
Having participated in the government for a decade, Chyrs knew an often-overlooked aspect of Lawkeeper cruisers: the sides had only a sparse scattering of weapons. They might have appropriated an increase in the armament budget that had restricted the density of such weapons, had they had to deal with many hard-core criminals, but the conservative government had no reason to correct a mistake that was not deadly. The Mal'akhu's designers, however, had not missed a detail so important. (Chyrs's substantial threats had made sure of that.)
She aimed her relatively small yacht at a hangar bay that began to open in the sides of one of the larger vessels to let the Mal'akhu dock. Keeping the speed low, she moved her yacht into the may, a cavern that could easily have housed a pair of twenty-second century sports stadiums, built to hold millions of people.
The Mal'akhu straightened out to point at the far side of the ship, where a pair of thick doors blocked the passage all the way through.
A risingg chime blared from the radio; her failure to abide by general apprehension procedure, which involved setting down as near as possible to the entrance door most likely made the ship's commander especially nervous.
Monday, January 09, 2006
So apparently, I'm going to have to take the nuke out of Gravity Inverted... But I need something there. I want it to be fairly recognizable, work without air, and not really be some sort of "superlaser"--they're way too overused in scifi already. (The simple, fantasy scifi that encompases Star Trek, Star Wars, and the like.) Do you have any ideas?
-Shannon
-Shannon
Monday, November 07, 2005
Nick’s eyes widened as words began gushing from his mouth. “I can’t hold you up! It’d… It’d put my back out again. You know how much trouble I’ve been having with my back this past mon-- year. In fact, just yester-- last week—”
Having not heard about any bit of Nick’s supposed heath troubles, Julianne figured he had another reason for declining so vigorously. “I’ll hit the floor first. What’ve you got to lose?” She stuck a lower lip out from her pouting face.
Looking about as pitiful as he could, he scowled back at her. She blinked. Sighing heavily, Nick bent forward, allowing the mechanic to climb over his back onto his shoulders. As he stood up, he grunted. “You always looked paper thin…”
Julianne shook her head. “I am. You’re just a lot weaker than you thought.” While trying to remain balanced, she reached one shaky arm out in front of her, but she couldn’t quite reach. “Move forward about twenty centimeters. And stand up straight, please.”
She heard him mumble something about tyrannical mechanics as he shifted his weight beneath her. Then he said, his voice louder but clearly strained, “That’s as good as it gets, missy.”
“All right. Good enough.” She reached one skinny, grease-stained hand to the black panel, and with one last stretch of her arm, her finger contacted the tiny, oval button she’d been seeking since she awoke that morning.
At first nothing seemed to happen. Then she realized she wasn’t pushing as hard on the shoulders beneath her. But gravity returned. Fortunately, Nick hadn’t moved much during the limbo period, so his feet were firmly planted when he caught the mechanic falling back to the ceiling.
Having not heard about any bit of Nick’s supposed heath troubles, Julianne figured he had another reason for declining so vigorously. “I’ll hit the floor first. What’ve you got to lose?” She stuck a lower lip out from her pouting face.
Looking about as pitiful as he could, he scowled back at her. She blinked. Sighing heavily, Nick bent forward, allowing the mechanic to climb over his back onto his shoulders. As he stood up, he grunted. “You always looked paper thin…”
Julianne shook her head. “I am. You’re just a lot weaker than you thought.” While trying to remain balanced, she reached one shaky arm out in front of her, but she couldn’t quite reach. “Move forward about twenty centimeters. And stand up straight, please.”
She heard him mumble something about tyrannical mechanics as he shifted his weight beneath her. Then he said, his voice louder but clearly strained, “That’s as good as it gets, missy.”
“All right. Good enough.” She reached one skinny, grease-stained hand to the black panel, and with one last stretch of her arm, her finger contacted the tiny, oval button she’d been seeking since she awoke that morning.
At first nothing seemed to happen. Then she realized she wasn’t pushing as hard on the shoulders beneath her. But gravity returned. Fortunately, Nick hadn’t moved much during the limbo period, so his feet were firmly planted when he caught the mechanic falling back to the ceiling.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
I am more critical of my own society than of foreign societies; I feel that they are not mine to criticize. It is my right and responsibility to consider all the low points of my country's culture in the hope that I may change it. And, when I have done a considerable amount to better my country, it is my privaledge to consider its high points and share them with others.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Hah. I get on the internet so rarely now... Blogger's a rather inspiring writing tool, and I have English homework due tomorrow, so the logical conclusion leads to my action... Lemme rephrase: my logical conclusion leads to this action. There. It all makes sense now.
They infest every high school in America and send their delegates to public malls and restaurants, evangelizing their gospel of "love" (whether it truly is or not, one can hardly be sure). Who has not ventured into these supposedly safe places and discovered an overly affectionate, touchy-feely couple? Nearly everyday when I exchange materials at my locker, I encounter two of these lovey-dovey pairs, who stand extraordinarily close together, as if proclaiming their oneness.
They infest every high school in America and send their delegates to public malls and restaurants, evangelizing their gospel of "love" (whether it truly is or not, one can hardly be sure). Who has not ventured into these supposedly safe places and discovered an overly affectionate, touchy-feely couple? Nearly everyday when I exchange materials at my locker, I encounter two of these lovey-dovey pairs, who stand extraordinarily close together, as if proclaiming their oneness.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
It's all Shaun's fault. He was such an inspiration in his black trench coat-y thing with wet hair, leaning silently against the wall in the food suite and observing stoically all the things the rest of the Alphans talked about... He looked like he was just in a fight in a dark alleyway somewhere and he saved the world but couldn't talk about it.
Stepping out of the pouring rain into an empty, well-lit entryway, Lash calmed his rapid breathing and racing heart. The innocents here were ignorant of the evening’s incident, and he had no intention of enlightening them. Slinking along cold, white concrete walls, he slid into the one room teeming with life.
Skirting the bright girls gathered in an amoeba-shape, he silently took in the peaceful activities, which sharply contrasted his experience only minutes before.
Stepping out of the pouring rain into an empty, well-lit entryway, Lash calmed his rapid breathing and racing heart. The innocents here were ignorant of the evening’s incident, and he had no intention of enlightening them. Slinking along cold, white concrete walls, he slid into the one room teeming with life.
Skirting the bright girls gathered in an amoeba-shape, he silently took in the peaceful activities, which sharply contrasted his experience only minutes before.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
What would four people do on a ship that looks like a cross between a duck and a turtle?
Let's say they're... explorers, pirates, thieves, a shipping company, thrill-seekers, militia men, a family.... Not family. Not a shipping company. Not militia men. Not thrill-seekers. Thieves. That sounds good.
So we've got a team of four thieves: two men and two women. One of the women is a mechanic. She typically wears a black flight suit with a black handkercheif on her head, holding her long, curly black hair out of her eyes. (The handkercheif is embroidered with bright red patterns.) She's a religious person, the last to join simply because she finds herself thinking best while working on ship systems and engineering. Julianne Starpound. She likes interpreting unfortunate events as signs and informing her fellow crewmates that their shared profession is wrong. They've retaliated, so she tends to keep her morality to herself.
Tall, skinny man with black hair.
Let's say they're... explorers, pirates, thieves, a shipping company, thrill-seekers, militia men, a family.... Not family. Not a shipping company. Not militia men. Not thrill-seekers. Thieves. That sounds good.
So we've got a team of four thieves: two men and two women. One of the women is a mechanic. She typically wears a black flight suit with a black handkercheif on her head, holding her long, curly black hair out of her eyes. (The handkercheif is embroidered with bright red patterns.) She's a religious person, the last to join simply because she finds herself thinking best while working on ship systems and engineering. Julianne Starpound. She likes interpreting unfortunate events as signs and informing her fellow crewmates that their shared profession is wrong. They've retaliated, so she tends to keep her morality to herself.
Tall, skinny man with black hair.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Quote of the day:
Question of the day: How come every task in my life as the capacity to loom overhead like a giant, black monolith that manages to scrape the moon on each rotation of the world?
Ted's question #x^2: How come you stayed home for only two minutes today and didn't even take the time to give me a scratch behind the ears?
Reeses progress report:
Hmm.... This tells you how old this template is; Reeses is done, but for a few modifications I may eventually make when a particular Caleb deems it exciting enough to finish reading... :( What a diss to have someone take so long to read your stories! I guess I should really work on that; Caleb's not the only one. I have about two, maybe three avid readers, because of my slow updates. *sniff* The least people could do is read it when it's done! I still have a whopping total of 45 reviews on all my finished stories--put together! I have 78 on The Announcement, and it's nowhere near finished. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have 78 reviews, but when you know people who average at least 80 on most all of their stories, it's rather... humbling... which is probably a good thing; it wouldn't kill me to learn how to be humble. It wouldn't kill me to learn how to keep busy during school, either. It wouldn't kill them to learn how to teach me enough to keep me busy but not overwhelmed. Heh! And they call them Honors classes! The classes are so pitiful, they're doing us a dishonor by calling them that! Humph. Maybe I should just take online classes or something. Or better, Nash goes to a very challenging school. I think I'd do well there if I started devoting time to actual studying. All I want to do is read and write and help people and improve my relationship with God. Is that so much to ask? I don't care about math. Math and chem and history are useless games in the mockery they call an educational facility. If I end up going nowhere in my life, I'm officially blaming it on my "alma mater". I have a feeling I'd be much better off being self-taught, but I have no ultimate goal, no ultimate end motivating me to advance beyond the level required of me. As I said, all I want to do can be summed up in four things. Firstly, I am more than capable of reading on my own. So long as I make time for it, I can do it. *blushes* Especially when considering that a friend gave me a book this morning before first period and I finished it a few hours ago. (Yay Tamora Pierce!) Secondly, I am quite motivated to write...fiction. I love exploring the various plots and opportunities offered by managing one's own invisible world. I love the interactions you can explore and the creativity you can weave in...and randomness! Thirdly, I want to help people. I don't know why. I don't know how. I do know a few of the ways I don't want to help people if I can avoid it, but if anyone needs me to do anything, just say something. If no one else is gonna do it, I will. And fourthly and most importantly, I want to improve my relationship with God. It's possible, but it helps a lot if you can manage to clear your mind. *sigh* And that's incredibly hard when people are constantly telling you what you need to do, what's coming up, what you need to pay attention to. I hate all the stresses that people have put in my life.
Beth, learn how to drive.
Beth, study for your finals.
Beth, get an A in math.
Beth, memorize formulas.
Beth, read this book.
Beth, work on your summer AP work.
Beth, write an essay.
Beth, update the next chapter of The Announcement.
Beth, write the next chapter of some story you don't care about anymore; someone likes the possibility of the romance you're never going to get around to.
Beth, help with some chores.
Beth, get a job.
Beth, take care of the dogs.
Beth, read your Bible.
Beth, plan your summer.
Beth, mediate between your parents.
Beth, help J. and L. out with their stresses.
Beth, go to youth group.
Beth, help with the fundraisers.
Beth, show your friends what you've learned about life, the universe, and everything important, despite the ever-so-visible fact that they're never going to listen to you or even care.
Beth, control your emotions and don't flip out on everyone.
Beth, learn everything about the universe.
Beth, learn everything people have made up about the universe.
Beth, floss your teeth.
Beth, wash your face.
Beth, meticulously clean your teeth.
Beth, put this on your face.
Beth, try some make-up.
Beth, get a boyfriend. (Totally unnecessary, by the way!)
Beth, clean your room.
Beth, clean your stuff from all the other rooms in two houses.
Beth, don't be hypocritical.
Can't I ever just sit around learn slower, more detailed, so that I won't forget? Can't I ever learn anything more meaningful than how many moles are in 22.4 L of a gas at STP? Can't I ever be my own person and stop worrying about the world around me? Can I quit school now? Can it be over? I'm doing nothing worthwhile, and it's all stressing me out. The people are petty and the teachers are poor.
learn it from you?"
Matt shrugged, gulping down the last of his milk. When he finished, he replied, "You should ask Jonathan when he gets back. I'm sure he knows more than I do."
"How come?" Zack queried as one of the school's most popular cheerleaders came to a halt behind him. All other eyes came to rest on the agitated girl who stood with her hands on her hips. Finally, Zack got the idea that someone was standing behind him, and after one glance at her, he quickly scooted to a chair out of the line of fire.
"Matt!" Niki snapped, his name sounding odd coming from her without any affectionate cooing tagged onto it. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He blinked, honestly confused. "Tell you what?"
Question of the day: How come every task in my life as the capacity to loom overhead like a giant, black monolith that manages to scrape the moon on each rotation of the world?
Ted's question #x^2: How come you stayed home for only two minutes today and didn't even take the time to give me a scratch behind the ears?
Reeses progress report:
Hmm.... This tells you how old this template is; Reeses is done, but for a few modifications I may eventually make when a particular Caleb deems it exciting enough to finish reading... :( What a diss to have someone take so long to read your stories! I guess I should really work on that; Caleb's not the only one. I have about two, maybe three avid readers, because of my slow updates. *sniff* The least people could do is read it when it's done! I still have a whopping total of 45 reviews on all my finished stories--put together! I have 78 on The Announcement, and it's nowhere near finished. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to have 78 reviews, but when you know people who average at least 80 on most all of their stories, it's rather... humbling... which is probably a good thing; it wouldn't kill me to learn how to be humble. It wouldn't kill me to learn how to keep busy during school, either. It wouldn't kill them to learn how to teach me enough to keep me busy but not overwhelmed. Heh! And they call them Honors classes! The classes are so pitiful, they're doing us a dishonor by calling them that! Humph. Maybe I should just take online classes or something. Or better, Nash goes to a very challenging school. I think I'd do well there if I started devoting time to actual studying. All I want to do is read and write and help people and improve my relationship with God. Is that so much to ask? I don't care about math. Math and chem and history are useless games in the mockery they call an educational facility. If I end up going nowhere in my life, I'm officially blaming it on my "alma mater". I have a feeling I'd be much better off being self-taught, but I have no ultimate goal, no ultimate end motivating me to advance beyond the level required of me. As I said, all I want to do can be summed up in four things. Firstly, I am more than capable of reading on my own. So long as I make time for it, I can do it. *blushes* Especially when considering that a friend gave me a book this morning before first period and I finished it a few hours ago. (Yay Tamora Pierce!) Secondly, I am quite motivated to write...fiction. I love exploring the various plots and opportunities offered by managing one's own invisible world. I love the interactions you can explore and the creativity you can weave in...and randomness! Thirdly, I want to help people. I don't know why. I don't know how. I do know a few of the ways I don't want to help people if I can avoid it, but if anyone needs me to do anything, just say something. If no one else is gonna do it, I will. And fourthly and most importantly, I want to improve my relationship with God. It's possible, but it helps a lot if you can manage to clear your mind. *sigh* And that's incredibly hard when people are constantly telling you what you need to do, what's coming up, what you need to pay attention to. I hate all the stresses that people have put in my life.
Beth, learn how to drive.
Beth, study for your finals.
Beth, get an A in math.
Beth, memorize formulas.
Beth, read this book.
Beth, work on your summer AP work.
Beth, write an essay.
Beth, update the next chapter of The Announcement.
Beth, write the next chapter of some story you don't care about anymore; someone likes the possibility of the romance you're never going to get around to.
Beth, help with some chores.
Beth, get a job.
Beth, take care of the dogs.
Beth, read your Bible.
Beth, plan your summer.
Beth, mediate between your parents.
Beth, help J. and L. out with their stresses.
Beth, go to youth group.
Beth, help with the fundraisers.
Beth, show your friends what you've learned about life, the universe, and everything important, despite the ever-so-visible fact that they're never going to listen to you or even care.
Beth, control your emotions and don't flip out on everyone.
Beth, learn everything about the universe.
Beth, learn everything people have made up about the universe.
Beth, floss your teeth.
Beth, wash your face.
Beth, meticulously clean your teeth.
Beth, put this on your face.
Beth, try some make-up.
Beth, get a boyfriend. (Totally unnecessary, by the way!)
Beth, clean your room.
Beth, clean your stuff from all the other rooms in two houses.
Beth, don't be hypocritical.
Can't I ever just sit around learn slower, more detailed, so that I won't forget? Can't I ever learn anything more meaningful than how many moles are in 22.4 L of a gas at STP? Can't I ever be my own person and stop worrying about the world around me? Can I quit school now? Can it be over? I'm doing nothing worthwhile, and it's all stressing me out. The people are petty and the teachers are poor.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Half day... Ten minutes until the bell rings and I can go to my locker before leaving for an entire half of a day. So I'm bored. No thanks to the school firewall, I can't check my e-mail here. When i looked this morning, there was an e-mail to a thing for Alpha. Oh, yeah, didn't mention that, did I? I got accepted to go to a science fiction writer's workshop!!!! Yay!!! I get to go learn how to write well! They've deemed that one of the worse stories I've ever written was good enough that I should come converse with those who write often!
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
I just needed to get on today because I feel horrible and alone and everything. No body listens to what I have to say except for my parents, and it really ticks me off. Only the people who are forced to live with me and make peace with me actually value what I have to say, and that makes me feel like a piece of smashed cow dung.
Everyone at lunch (not everyone, but Lisa and Jena, yes) unload all their problems on me, and I'm tired of it. They never listen to what I have to say or what's bothering me or what I'm excited about, and it really hurts that neither of them can take my feelings into account. I admit that they both need help and need companionship, but does it all have to come from me?
Backtrack for a moment. Since February, my spiritual life has really taken off. I'm now trying to live the most God-centered life I can. Seriously. And it's been awesome living every day for the gift it is. It's just wonderful.
But I guess I started today wrong or something. I didn't look at the world and the day as a gift. So got I got to school and Lisa yelled at me for not taking me headphones off. I never take my headphones off until someone's talking. She wasn't talking, so I wanted to keep listening to Switchfoot, which is kind of my encouragement, since I can't get any from my "friend" (aka aquaintances). I got to lunch four periods later, and she started complaining about how throwing a ball back and forth yesterday messed up her arms. So I did the logical thing: I suggested she go to the nurse to take some ibuprofin. (Jena responds with the obvious fact that half the school isn't allowed to take ibuprofin.) I ask her to look at the bright side of things, as I often do, and she says she's depressed. Now, Lisa isn't really the kind of person who's manic depressive or anything. Some people think ADD is a made up "disorder" and after my experience with my faith life, I'm starting to have the same outlook on depression. (Jena's got an excuse, as far as I'm concerned.) But Lisa thinks everything's wrong with her. "Oh, I have a mild social disorder. Seriously!" Just because she's uncomfortable around people! Maybe she just hasn't done it enough to get used to that. Did she ever consider that?
So I made that suggestion, and Jena broke in with "shut up." I recognized that I was being rather donkey-ish, so I tried.
But it bothers me. This is another instance of no one listening to me. I've been trying to talk about these things that really matter to me to Lisa, but she just writes it off as another shallow outlit of myself. She thinks I'm only about scifi and rebellion and that I'm just plain shallow, that nothing I say matters. (In all fairness, I kinda think the same about her.)
How did I end up where I am? How am I stuck in the midst of a world where no one save two or three care about me? Why can no one consider that I'm onto something? Why do I have to bow to everyone's wishes and do what they want me to do? Why can't I change the world? Why am I confined to the limited and lonely sphere where I am? Is it because of my age? Am I too young to be worth anything? Am I too pacifistic to get anyone's attention? Am I too quiet? Do I follow too many of the rules?
Everyone at lunch (not everyone, but Lisa and Jena, yes) unload all their problems on me, and I'm tired of it. They never listen to what I have to say or what's bothering me or what I'm excited about, and it really hurts that neither of them can take my feelings into account. I admit that they both need help and need companionship, but does it all have to come from me?
Backtrack for a moment. Since February, my spiritual life has really taken off. I'm now trying to live the most God-centered life I can. Seriously. And it's been awesome living every day for the gift it is. It's just wonderful.
But I guess I started today wrong or something. I didn't look at the world and the day as a gift. So got I got to school and Lisa yelled at me for not taking me headphones off. I never take my headphones off until someone's talking. She wasn't talking, so I wanted to keep listening to Switchfoot, which is kind of my encouragement, since I can't get any from my "friend" (aka aquaintances). I got to lunch four periods later, and she started complaining about how throwing a ball back and forth yesterday messed up her arms. So I did the logical thing: I suggested she go to the nurse to take some ibuprofin. (Jena responds with the obvious fact that half the school isn't allowed to take ibuprofin.) I ask her to look at the bright side of things, as I often do, and she says she's depressed. Now, Lisa isn't really the kind of person who's manic depressive or anything. Some people think ADD is a made up "disorder" and after my experience with my faith life, I'm starting to have the same outlook on depression. (Jena's got an excuse, as far as I'm concerned.) But Lisa thinks everything's wrong with her. "Oh, I have a mild social disorder. Seriously!" Just because she's uncomfortable around people! Maybe she just hasn't done it enough to get used to that. Did she ever consider that?
So I made that suggestion, and Jena broke in with "shut up." I recognized that I was being rather donkey-ish, so I tried.
But it bothers me. This is another instance of no one listening to me. I've been trying to talk about these things that really matter to me to Lisa, but she just writes it off as another shallow outlit of myself. She thinks I'm only about scifi and rebellion and that I'm just plain shallow, that nothing I say matters. (In all fairness, I kinda think the same about her.)
How did I end up where I am? How am I stuck in the midst of a world where no one save two or three care about me? Why can no one consider that I'm onto something? Why do I have to bow to everyone's wishes and do what they want me to do? Why can't I change the world? Why am I confined to the limited and lonely sphere where I am? Is it because of my age? Am I too young to be worth anything? Am I too pacifistic to get anyone's attention? Am I too quiet? Do I follow too many of the rules?
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
A short time later, Vinnet found herself confined to a room near a wall-hanging with the mark of Apophis. What she assumed to be a security contingent had arrived only minutes after she had, placed a strange device on her chest, and escorted her here. Finally, she saw someone approach her doorway and enter.
"What is your purpose here?" he asked sharply.
Play Goa'uld or do you think they've heard of Tok'ra? Sarah wondered.
*I will speak until we know where they stand.*
"Alrighty," Sarah replied, accidentally speaking aloud.
Vinnet quickly surfaced, trying to cover the inconsistancy with a coughing spell. "I demand to know why I am being detained."
The man stared skeptically. "You do not need to pretend she did not speak; the device you are wearing indicates who has control."
She frowned as the implications of his comment sank in and glanced to the device, which now showed red. "My request stands."
"A recent triad brought to light the point that many Goa'uld hosts do not care to be hosts. Lya requested to hear your host's point of view," he explained calmly.
As she considered what she might say, Sarah suddenly found herself in control. "All you had to do was ask," she insisted. "How's Mr. Hartman?" He frowned, confusion playing across his face. She continued, "We came here with a very sick man, and I need to know how he's doing."
"He is stable." The Tollan frowned, still confused. "You are not happy for the opportunity to speak?"
She shrugged. "It's just something you take for granted. I mean, Vinnet didn't really change my life or anything. Much. After a while..."
"So you volunteered to be a host?" he inquired.
"Not really, but I didn't object, if that answers your question." She paused for a second, and her eyes flashed, the device's indicator flickering to red momentarily. This repeated twice, the light staying red a few seconds longer the last time before finally staying blue. "Um," Sarah mumbled, "can you take this thing off now? Vinnet's having troub--" Her eyes flashed again as the symbiote tried to cut her off.
The red light flickered only once this time, but it finally stayed on. "My host agreed to the blending," Vinnet insisted, her pride still partially intact. The thought that she might not be able to take control of her host, even in the presence of a foreign device, disturbed her; it was her only means of communicating with the galaxy. On top of that, she didn't need her host to go asking someone to help the symbiote.
The Tollan frowned and took a step back from the symbiote. "You should not have been able to speak before she had finished..."
Sarah's cheeks blushed slighly. "She did not mind."
"What is your purpose here?" he asked sharply.
Play Goa'uld or do you think they've heard of Tok'ra? Sarah wondered.
*I will speak until we know where they stand.*
"Alrighty," Sarah replied, accidentally speaking aloud.
Vinnet quickly surfaced, trying to cover the inconsistancy with a coughing spell. "I demand to know why I am being detained."
The man stared skeptically. "You do not need to pretend she did not speak; the device you are wearing indicates who has control."
She frowned as the implications of his comment sank in and glanced to the device, which now showed red. "My request stands."
"A recent triad brought to light the point that many Goa'uld hosts do not care to be hosts. Lya requested to hear your host's point of view," he explained calmly.
As she considered what she might say, Sarah suddenly found herself in control. "All you had to do was ask," she insisted. "How's Mr. Hartman?" He frowned, confusion playing across his face. She continued, "We came here with a very sick man, and I need to know how he's doing."
"He is stable." The Tollan frowned, still confused. "You are not happy for the opportunity to speak?"
She shrugged. "It's just something you take for granted. I mean, Vinnet didn't really change my life or anything. Much. After a while..."
"So you volunteered to be a host?" he inquired.
"Not really, but I didn't object, if that answers your question." She paused for a second, and her eyes flashed, the device's indicator flickering to red momentarily. This repeated twice, the light staying red a few seconds longer the last time before finally staying blue. "Um," Sarah mumbled, "can you take this thing off now? Vinnet's having troub--" Her eyes flashed again as the symbiote tried to cut her off.
The red light flickered only once this time, but it finally stayed on. "My host agreed to the blending," Vinnet insisted, her pride still partially intact. The thought that she might not be able to take control of her host, even in the presence of a foreign device, disturbed her; it was her only means of communicating with the galaxy. On top of that, she didn't need her host to go asking someone to help the symbiote.
The Tollan frowned and took a step back from the symbiote. "You should not have been able to speak before she had finished..."
Sarah's cheeks blushed slighly. "She did not mind."
(As opposed to studying for a math test....)
Vinnet sprinted away from the Tok'ra base, the last one to leave the facility. Ahead of her ran one tired gentleman, who reached the Stargate moments before she did. Gasping for breath, he leaned on the DHD while she smacked seven of the symbols. A burst swept forward from the Ancient device, and the two wordlessly ran full-force through the deceptively calm event horizon.
Moments later, they arrived in a clean, bright city square, but Vinnet payed it little mind. She caught up to the other. "Are you well?"
He shook his head, finally allowing himself to collapse to the ground. Almost immediately, a group of four people in uniforms rushed in to help him.
Confused but seeing they meant him no harm, Vinnet tired to step back out of their way. In doing so, she bumped into another person. They both spun to face each other. Vinnet studied her, unfamiliar with any group who wouldn't object to having twigs in their hair. "Where am I?" she asked after a moment, too embarassed to admit aloud that she had misdailed.
"This is Tollana," the other replied in a quiet voice that help just a slight edge.
Vinnet sprinted away from the Tok'ra base, the last one to leave the facility. Ahead of her ran one tired gentleman, who reached the Stargate moments before she did. Gasping for breath, he leaned on the DHD while she smacked seven of the symbols. A burst swept forward from the Ancient device, and the two wordlessly ran full-force through the deceptively calm event horizon.
Moments later, they arrived in a clean, bright city square, but Vinnet payed it little mind. She caught up to the other. "Are you well?"
He shook his head, finally allowing himself to collapse to the ground. Almost immediately, a group of four people in uniforms rushed in to help him.
Confused but seeing they meant him no harm, Vinnet tired to step back out of their way. In doing so, she bumped into another person. They both spun to face each other. Vinnet studied her, unfamiliar with any group who wouldn't object to having twigs in their hair. "Where am I?" she asked after a moment, too embarassed to admit aloud that she had misdailed.
"This is Tollana," the other replied in a quiet voice that help just a slight edge.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
(Yes, I'm procrastinating anything related to real work.)
Jolinar stumbled out of the gate after O'Neill and Jackson, more than aware of how unceremoniously her hands were bound. They had not yet arrived on the planet with the Tok'ra base, but this SG-1 was unaware of that fact. Except for Samantha, of course.
"Colonel," she called, sounding more than a little tired. "This isn't the right planet."
One of Daniel's eyebrows flicked skywards. "Why would he give us the wrong address, Sam?"
She shrugged as much as she could with her hands bound behind her. "I think he didn't want us to keep the address in our dialing computer."
"But we'll still be able to remember it," the archeologist argued.
Jack caught on, nodding knowingly. "But Hammond won't be able to send anyone after us," he explained, "unless we leave a note."
Carter's eyes flared, and Jolinar took one step away from Teal'c, who stood behind her. "You must not. If the Goa'uld arrive here, they will find it and follow."
Jack blinked. "You are a Goa'uld. What do you care?"
Her eyes flashed again. "I am not a Goa'uld. As Captain Carter explained earlier, I am Tok'ra."
The colonel took a few menacing steps closer, reminding himself all the while that he was talking to the snake, not Carter. "Why don't you want to be followed?"
"Why do we have an iris, Jack?" Daniel inquried from behind him. "To keep out unwanted guests."
"If these Tok'ra oppose the Goa'uld as the legends say they do," Teal'c began, "security and defenses are indeed necessary."
"Thank you," Jolinar acknowledged. All this to return home, she thought, and perhaps stay there if that Nassyan man really was the Ashrak.
I'm sure that really was him, Carter consoled. I mean, there was something weird about him. He was burned so badly, he probably should've been dead.
Just as Jack was deciding to let the "Goa'uld" have it his way, the gate began dialing. As quickly as possible, the four hid behind some convenient bushes off to the side of the faint trail to the gate. The kerplundge shot forward and settled back into a two-story circle of watery event-horizon. A single figure walked through, and the Stargate shut off behind him. Even while two of the other three team members had their weapons trained on the lone figure and Teal'c had his trained on Jolinar, she was suddenly overcome with and obedient to an urge to run up and hug the figure, though the closest she could come was to be hugged by him. This surprised SG-1 to the point where they could do about nothing.
"Rosha?" the figure questioned, having hardly gotten a look at who had "attacked" him.
Tears began to streak down Carter's face. "She's gone, Martouf. The ashrak almost killed us, and she's gone."
He began to cry as well, but when he noticed SG-1's approach, his eyes flashed. He pulled Jolinar ever so slightly closer, and raised his zat to point at the approaching humans.
"Easy," O'Neill commanded. "It's three to one; put your weapon down."
"Do it, Lantash," Jolinar whispered. "They only want this host back." He looked at her now, studying the new face by his side and hesitating. "Do it, Lantash. They're Tau'ri."
His eyes widened in surprise, and he slowly, reluctantly set his zatn'katel on the grassy ground.
O’Neill swooped in and collected the weapon, returning to his original vantage point before asking, "Who are you?"
The newcomer didn’t answer as he carefully unbound Carter’s hands, but Jolinar did. "He is another Tok’ra: Lantash."
"Uh-huh." Jack glanced to his other teammates. "This feel like an ambush to anyone else?"
"Jack," Daniel scolded. "Not everything is an ambush; coincidences do happen. Besides, aren’t we the ones ambushing?"
Jolinar allowed her host to speak. "Colonel, this planet is special to both of them."
O’Neill flinched, instinctively turning his P-90 away from his 2IC. After a frown and some thought, though, he turned it back. "Carter?"
Frowning, she took half a step away from Lantash but did not come nearer to her friends and teammates. She blushed a little. "It’s kinda personal, sir."
Lantash smiled affectionately in her direction, the implied closeness digging into Jack’s heart. "No, it’s alright. This was Rosha’s homeworld. I came to see if she and Jolinar had escaped the ashrak or come here to avoid leading him to the base."
Both Teal’c and Daniel looked surprised. "Hunter," the translated for Jack’s benefit.
"As in bounty?"
Teal’c gave a single nod. "They serve the system lords by eliminating particular individuals."
Sam tried to divide her attention between her CO and Lantash, but since that was ineffective, she turned to Lantash. "We think he’s dead." She turned back to the colonel, knowing the next would make more sense to him. "Jolinar killed one of the Nassyans at the hospital."
Jack’s eyes widened. "What? Why?" he yelled.
"She thought he was a Goa’uld." She didn’t try to explain further. He didn’t need to be confused by the sensing and the details about his injuries.
"Great. Now what?" he wondered, looking around for ideas.
"Rosha’s home was always a refuge for us. We can stay there the night," Lantash suggested.
Carter glanced to the other Tok’ra then to the trail leading away from the Stargate. "Sir, it’s just on the edge of town. It’ll be like most of our other recon missions."
" ‘Cept that you’re a Goa’uld," he mumbled, motioning the others to move out.
Lantash’s eyes flashed, and now that the P-90s were directed elsewhere, he caught O’Neill by the arm. "Jolinar is not a Goa’uld!"
Jack jumped, extremely startled by the Goa’uld-ish behavior. "Just like I suppose you’re not?"
"I am not."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Jack, from what Teal’c’s told me, they’re resistance fighters." He turned to face Lantash. "You fight the Goa’uld, right?"
"Yes!" he replied.
Daniel nodded, trying to make a point to Jack. "Why?"
Lantash thought for a moment. "They do not respect their hosts. We believe that a host’s body should be shared equally between the symbiote and the host."
Before Daniel could reply, Jack commented. "Oh, yeah, shared equally. We still haven’t heard from your host."
Sam took particular interest in this, as did Daniel and Teal’c. All eyes turned to Lantash. He closed his eyes for a moment, but when he spoke, it was still clearly Lantash. "We… Martouf is not yet ready to speak. We are glad the ashrak is dead and Jolinar is here, but we loved Rosha as well."
"Rosha, Rosha, Rosha," Jack snarled, not catching on to the emotion in the Tok’ra’s voice. "You still sound like a Goa’uld to me."
Lantash glared at the colonel but remained silent. He quickly passed the others, leading them quickly toward the village. Carter shrugged to her CO and followed. "Lantash," she said as she caught up. "Lantash, slow down."
He paused and waited for her, checking to see that the rest of SG-1 was fairly far behind before he allowed Martouf to speak. A single tear spilled from his eye. He started to say something, but didn’t get very far.
Sam shook her head. "You don’t need to say anything."
He sighed. "I do." Catching her totally off-guard, he pursued a different subject. "Jolinar says she needs a new host."
She blushed. "I… I never volunteered to be a Tok’ra. We’ve never even heard of you until after Jolinar… I have a life back on Earth. I can’t just up and leave; they need me."
He frowned as both symbiote and host felt a chill run through them. "You didn’t volunteer?"
"It was a misunderstanding. I was trying to do CPR to save her host, and… And she thought I was trying to help her," Carter explained.
Martouf felt a weight settled in his stomach, but he was unsure whether it was due to disappointment or a further sense of loss. "Perhaps another on this world will volunteer to host Jolinar."
Carter glanced back to see that her CO and friends were out of earshot. "I don’t know if that’ll be necessary." Martouf looked expectantly in her direction. "We’re kinda reaching an understanding."
He grinned. It was the same expression he’d had the night before the mission that had taken her to Sokar’s moon. Wait, I’ve never been there! Why do I remember that?
Blending allows us to share more than just thoughts, Jolinar told her. Feelings, memories, everything is mutual.
As night fell, the group came upon a small cabin on the outskirts of a pleasant town. All four members of SG-1 slept in the common room. Hours later, Carter was still awake, arguing with Jolinar. I can’t go. I’m sorry. You know Colonel O’Neill would never let me, anyway.
But fighting the Goa’uld… I can’t give up on my own people.
Just coming back to Earth doesn’t mean you’ll stop fighting the Goa’uld, Sam reminded, thinking of some of SG-1’s various encounters with them. We just go about it a little differently. Please, Jolinar! Imagine everything you can teach us and all that an alliance with the Tok’ra could do for both the Tok’ra and the SGC!
Martouf… Lantash…
They can visit, can’t they?
As you say, long distance relationships don’t usually work out.
That’s when the people have been together for a handful of years, not a century.
And the typical long distance relationship is a few hundred or a few thousand "miles;" we will be worlds apart.
Connected by the Stargate, it’s probably not going to be more than maybe fifty klicks until there’s a Tel’tak involved. It’ll—
"Carter?" Jack O’Neill’s voice cut into the room’s silence like a shot.
"Sir?" she whispered back.
"Aren’t you going to get some sleep?"
She shrugged, though she knew he couldn’t see it in the darkness. "I don’t know. Jolinar—"
"We’ll get it out, Carter, don’t worry.," he replied, trying to sound reassuring.
She gulped. The middle of the night was a good time to break what he would consider bad news, right? "Sir, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she stayed."
"What?" he snapped, his voice considerably louder. Daniel rolled over in his sleep, but neither of their teammates awoke.
"We’ve been talking."
"We?"
"Me and Jolinar."
"You have?"
"Fine. We’ve been thinking back and forth. Do you think General Hammond would approve an addition to SG-1?"
"Do you think I’ll approve?" he countered.
"Sir," Carter began, "if she tries to leave, she might die."
"That bugs you?" he replied sarcastically.
"Yes, sir." She closed her eyes, though her view of the world changed little with the motion. "We have no right to risk her life just to feel better."
O’Neill began to reply, but Carter’s eye-flashing effectively shut his mouth for him. "There is still disagreement about this," Jolinar told him. "I’m willing to go."
He frowned. "She’s arguing for you to stay?" he exclaimed, this time trying to keep his voice down.
"Yes." Jolinar shook her head and rolled on her side so that her back was to him. "Good night, Colonel."
"Night." He lay back, puzzled, then pinched his arm. It hurt. So he wasn’t dreaming or, rather, "nightmaring." Maybe he was hallucinating, though. Because there was no way Carter just told him she wanted to stay a Goa’uld.
Jolinar stumbled out of the gate after O'Neill and Jackson, more than aware of how unceremoniously her hands were bound. They had not yet arrived on the planet with the Tok'ra base, but this SG-1 was unaware of that fact. Except for Samantha, of course.
"Colonel," she called, sounding more than a little tired. "This isn't the right planet."
One of Daniel's eyebrows flicked skywards. "Why would he give us the wrong address, Sam?"
She shrugged as much as she could with her hands bound behind her. "I think he didn't want us to keep the address in our dialing computer."
"But we'll still be able to remember it," the archeologist argued.
Jack caught on, nodding knowingly. "But Hammond won't be able to send anyone after us," he explained, "unless we leave a note."
Carter's eyes flared, and Jolinar took one step away from Teal'c, who stood behind her. "You must not. If the Goa'uld arrive here, they will find it and follow."
Jack blinked. "You are a Goa'uld. What do you care?"
Her eyes flashed again. "I am not a Goa'uld. As Captain Carter explained earlier, I am Tok'ra."
The colonel took a few menacing steps closer, reminding himself all the while that he was talking to the snake, not Carter. "Why don't you want to be followed?"
"Why do we have an iris, Jack?" Daniel inquried from behind him. "To keep out unwanted guests."
"If these Tok'ra oppose the Goa'uld as the legends say they do," Teal'c began, "security and defenses are indeed necessary."
"Thank you," Jolinar acknowledged. All this to return home, she thought, and perhaps stay there if that Nassyan man really was the Ashrak.
I'm sure that really was him, Carter consoled. I mean, there was something weird about him. He was burned so badly, he probably should've been dead.
Just as Jack was deciding to let the "Goa'uld" have it his way, the gate began dialing. As quickly as possible, the four hid behind some convenient bushes off to the side of the faint trail to the gate. The kerplundge shot forward and settled back into a two-story circle of watery event-horizon. A single figure walked through, and the Stargate shut off behind him. Even while two of the other three team members had their weapons trained on the lone figure and Teal'c had his trained on Jolinar, she was suddenly overcome with and obedient to an urge to run up and hug the figure, though the closest she could come was to be hugged by him. This surprised SG-1 to the point where they could do about nothing.
"Rosha?" the figure questioned, having hardly gotten a look at who had "attacked" him.
Tears began to streak down Carter's face. "She's gone, Martouf. The ashrak almost killed us, and she's gone."
He began to cry as well, but when he noticed SG-1's approach, his eyes flashed. He pulled Jolinar ever so slightly closer, and raised his zat to point at the approaching humans.
"Easy," O'Neill commanded. "It's three to one; put your weapon down."
"Do it, Lantash," Jolinar whispered. "They only want this host back." He looked at her now, studying the new face by his side and hesitating. "Do it, Lantash. They're Tau'ri."
His eyes widened in surprise, and he slowly, reluctantly set his zatn'katel on the grassy ground.
O’Neill swooped in and collected the weapon, returning to his original vantage point before asking, "Who are you?"
The newcomer didn’t answer as he carefully unbound Carter’s hands, but Jolinar did. "He is another Tok’ra: Lantash."
"Uh-huh." Jack glanced to his other teammates. "This feel like an ambush to anyone else?"
"Jack," Daniel scolded. "Not everything is an ambush; coincidences do happen. Besides, aren’t we the ones ambushing?"
Jolinar allowed her host to speak. "Colonel, this planet is special to both of them."
O’Neill flinched, instinctively turning his P-90 away from his 2IC. After a frown and some thought, though, he turned it back. "Carter?"
Frowning, she took half a step away from Lantash but did not come nearer to her friends and teammates. She blushed a little. "It’s kinda personal, sir."
Lantash smiled affectionately in her direction, the implied closeness digging into Jack’s heart. "No, it’s alright. This was Rosha’s homeworld. I came to see if she and Jolinar had escaped the ashrak or come here to avoid leading him to the base."
Both Teal’c and Daniel looked surprised. "Hunter," the translated for Jack’s benefit.
"As in bounty?"
Teal’c gave a single nod. "They serve the system lords by eliminating particular individuals."
Sam tried to divide her attention between her CO and Lantash, but since that was ineffective, she turned to Lantash. "We think he’s dead." She turned back to the colonel, knowing the next would make more sense to him. "Jolinar killed one of the Nassyans at the hospital."
Jack’s eyes widened. "What? Why?" he yelled.
"She thought he was a Goa’uld." She didn’t try to explain further. He didn’t need to be confused by the sensing and the details about his injuries.
"Great. Now what?" he wondered, looking around for ideas.
"Rosha’s home was always a refuge for us. We can stay there the night," Lantash suggested.
Carter glanced to the other Tok’ra then to the trail leading away from the Stargate. "Sir, it’s just on the edge of town. It’ll be like most of our other recon missions."
" ‘Cept that you’re a Goa’uld," he mumbled, motioning the others to move out.
Lantash’s eyes flashed, and now that the P-90s were directed elsewhere, he caught O’Neill by the arm. "Jolinar is not a Goa’uld!"
Jack jumped, extremely startled by the Goa’uld-ish behavior. "Just like I suppose you’re not?"
"I am not."
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Jack, from what Teal’c’s told me, they’re resistance fighters." He turned to face Lantash. "You fight the Goa’uld, right?"
"Yes!" he replied.
Daniel nodded, trying to make a point to Jack. "Why?"
Lantash thought for a moment. "They do not respect their hosts. We believe that a host’s body should be shared equally between the symbiote and the host."
Before Daniel could reply, Jack commented. "Oh, yeah, shared equally. We still haven’t heard from your host."
Sam took particular interest in this, as did Daniel and Teal’c. All eyes turned to Lantash. He closed his eyes for a moment, but when he spoke, it was still clearly Lantash. "We… Martouf is not yet ready to speak. We are glad the ashrak is dead and Jolinar is here, but we loved Rosha as well."
"Rosha, Rosha, Rosha," Jack snarled, not catching on to the emotion in the Tok’ra’s voice. "You still sound like a Goa’uld to me."
Lantash glared at the colonel but remained silent. He quickly passed the others, leading them quickly toward the village. Carter shrugged to her CO and followed. "Lantash," she said as she caught up. "Lantash, slow down."
He paused and waited for her, checking to see that the rest of SG-1 was fairly far behind before he allowed Martouf to speak. A single tear spilled from his eye. He started to say something, but didn’t get very far.
Sam shook her head. "You don’t need to say anything."
He sighed. "I do." Catching her totally off-guard, he pursued a different subject. "Jolinar says she needs a new host."
She blushed. "I… I never volunteered to be a Tok’ra. We’ve never even heard of you until after Jolinar… I have a life back on Earth. I can’t just up and leave; they need me."
He frowned as both symbiote and host felt a chill run through them. "You didn’t volunteer?"
"It was a misunderstanding. I was trying to do CPR to save her host, and… And she thought I was trying to help her," Carter explained.
Martouf felt a weight settled in his stomach, but he was unsure whether it was due to disappointment or a further sense of loss. "Perhaps another on this world will volunteer to host Jolinar."
Carter glanced back to see that her CO and friends were out of earshot. "I don’t know if that’ll be necessary." Martouf looked expectantly in her direction. "We’re kinda reaching an understanding."
He grinned. It was the same expression he’d had the night before the mission that had taken her to Sokar’s moon. Wait, I’ve never been there! Why do I remember that?
Blending allows us to share more than just thoughts, Jolinar told her. Feelings, memories, everything is mutual.
As night fell, the group came upon a small cabin on the outskirts of a pleasant town. All four members of SG-1 slept in the common room. Hours later, Carter was still awake, arguing with Jolinar. I can’t go. I’m sorry. You know Colonel O’Neill would never let me, anyway.
But fighting the Goa’uld… I can’t give up on my own people.
Just coming back to Earth doesn’t mean you’ll stop fighting the Goa’uld, Sam reminded, thinking of some of SG-1’s various encounters with them. We just go about it a little differently. Please, Jolinar! Imagine everything you can teach us and all that an alliance with the Tok’ra could do for both the Tok’ra and the SGC!
Martouf… Lantash…
They can visit, can’t they?
As you say, long distance relationships don’t usually work out.
That’s when the people have been together for a handful of years, not a century.
And the typical long distance relationship is a few hundred or a few thousand "miles;" we will be worlds apart.
Connected by the Stargate, it’s probably not going to be more than maybe fifty klicks until there’s a Tel’tak involved. It’ll—
"Carter?" Jack O’Neill’s voice cut into the room’s silence like a shot.
"Sir?" she whispered back.
"Aren’t you going to get some sleep?"
She shrugged, though she knew he couldn’t see it in the darkness. "I don’t know. Jolinar—"
"We’ll get it out, Carter, don’t worry.," he replied, trying to sound reassuring.
She gulped. The middle of the night was a good time to break what he would consider bad news, right? "Sir, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she stayed."
"What?" he snapped, his voice considerably louder. Daniel rolled over in his sleep, but neither of their teammates awoke.
"We’ve been talking."
"We?"
"Me and Jolinar."
"You have?"
"Fine. We’ve been thinking back and forth. Do you think General Hammond would approve an addition to SG-1?"
"Do you think I’ll approve?" he countered.
"Sir," Carter began, "if she tries to leave, she might die."
"That bugs you?" he replied sarcastically.
"Yes, sir." She closed her eyes, though her view of the world changed little with the motion. "We have no right to risk her life just to feel better."
O’Neill began to reply, but Carter’s eye-flashing effectively shut his mouth for him. "There is still disagreement about this," Jolinar told him. "I’m willing to go."
He frowned. "She’s arguing for you to stay?" he exclaimed, this time trying to keep his voice down.
"Yes." Jolinar shook her head and rolled on her side so that her back was to him. "Good night, Colonel."
"Night." He lay back, puzzled, then pinched his arm. It hurt. So he wasn’t dreaming or, rather, "nightmaring." Maybe he was hallucinating, though. Because there was no way Carter just told him she wanted to stay a Goa’uld.
The ultimate question for Tok'ra fans is: What if Jolinar hadn't died? *evil grin* Thanks to Meushall for the great ideas I'm trying to build on. Note: ever notice how Jolinar walks right up to the Ashrak and doesn't do anything, even though she has to be able to sense that he's blended? Yeah, me too.
Jolinar paced back and forth in her cell, several things weighing in on her mind. She hoped she had done the right ting in killing the Nassyan man at the hospital. She was sure she had felt a presence in him and fairly certain he wasn't a Tok'ra; they knew the dangers in coming near her were far too great. So she had killed him in one quick stroke to the back of the neck.
Jolinar sighed, again wishing she could have told the difference between a willing host and a compassionate giver of first aid. I will not harm you, she thought to her current host again. Please believe me.
No, you're a Goa'uld! Get out! Go away!
I did not know! I am sorry!
The host didn't reply but thought back to the Goa'uld-removing procedure a Major Kawalsky had once undergone. It had been unsuccessful, and this drove Captain Carter further into dispair.
I will leave as soon as I find another host, Jolinar promised.
You won't. I know that. You're a Goa'uld.
Her insistence stabbled deeply into Jolinar's heart, and she again wished she had not had to separate from Rosha. Talk to them when they come. Just know whtat if we are allowed to leave, I will take us back to the Tok'ra base, where I can find a new host.
Just as she thought that, Colonel O'Neill entered, and Jolinar gave her host control.
"You know, you really screwed up this time," he began.
"Colonel!" Sam replied. "It's me. Please, get it out!"
His eyes widened. "Carter!" Then he closed them and shook his head, remembering Teal'c's advice. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered.
"Colonel," she repeated, shomehow managing to keep her calm. "He says that if we let him go, he'll go back to his base and find a new host."
"I'm not buying it," O'Neill replied, referring to the Goa'uld's obvious act of playing Sam.
"Me neither, sir," Carter responded. "But maybe if we all go together--"
Her eyes flashed, a sure sign of Goa'uld take over. "What'd you do that for!" Jack shouted.
"Three unblended humans would not be allowed to leave. It would be a huge breech of security," Jolinar answered.
"A Goa'uld worried about security? Isn't that what you think Jaffa are for?"
Jolinar paused, not wanting to say too much. Then she figured she might as well explain a little. Trust had to be built; it was rarely given freely. "We have no Jaffa," she admitted.
"Not much of a Goa'uld, are you then?""
"No," she agreed.
O'Neill stood back. What happened to this guy's pride? No Jaffa? Not much of a Goa'uld? Seemed to have let Carter talk? "Who are you?"
The Tok'ra frowned and broke eye contact. This simply wasn't something she wanted to share. She retreated, leaving Sam in control. "Jack, I don't think he's a Goa'uld... At least, not the kind we know. A normal Goa'uld would never let its host talk..."
That's right! That's right! Jolinar praised. A Goa'uld wouldn't, but Tok'ra do all the time!
"Tok'ra," Sam blurted, latching onto the word. "Ask Teal'c about Tok'ra."
Jolinar flinched. There goes security.
Jolinar paced back and forth in her cell, several things weighing in on her mind. She hoped she had done the right ting in killing the Nassyan man at the hospital. She was sure she had felt a presence in him and fairly certain he wasn't a Tok'ra; they knew the dangers in coming near her were far too great. So she had killed him in one quick stroke to the back of the neck.
Jolinar sighed, again wishing she could have told the difference between a willing host and a compassionate giver of first aid. I will not harm you, she thought to her current host again. Please believe me.
No, you're a Goa'uld! Get out! Go away!
I did not know! I am sorry!
The host didn't reply but thought back to the Goa'uld-removing procedure a Major Kawalsky had once undergone. It had been unsuccessful, and this drove Captain Carter further into dispair.
I will leave as soon as I find another host, Jolinar promised.
You won't. I know that. You're a Goa'uld.
Her insistence stabbled deeply into Jolinar's heart, and she again wished she had not had to separate from Rosha. Talk to them when they come. Just know whtat if we are allowed to leave, I will take us back to the Tok'ra base, where I can find a new host.
Just as she thought that, Colonel O'Neill entered, and Jolinar gave her host control.
"You know, you really screwed up this time," he began.
"Colonel!" Sam replied. "It's me. Please, get it out!"
His eyes widened. "Carter!" Then he closed them and shook his head, remembering Teal'c's advice. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered.
"Colonel," she repeated, shomehow managing to keep her calm. "He says that if we let him go, he'll go back to his base and find a new host."
"I'm not buying it," O'Neill replied, referring to the Goa'uld's obvious act of playing Sam.
"Me neither, sir," Carter responded. "But maybe if we all go together--"
Her eyes flashed, a sure sign of Goa'uld take over. "What'd you do that for!" Jack shouted.
"Three unblended humans would not be allowed to leave. It would be a huge breech of security," Jolinar answered.
"A Goa'uld worried about security? Isn't that what you think Jaffa are for?"
Jolinar paused, not wanting to say too much. Then she figured she might as well explain a little. Trust had to be built; it was rarely given freely. "We have no Jaffa," she admitted.
"Not much of a Goa'uld, are you then?""
"No," she agreed.
O'Neill stood back. What happened to this guy's pride? No Jaffa? Not much of a Goa'uld? Seemed to have let Carter talk? "Who are you?"
The Tok'ra frowned and broke eye contact. This simply wasn't something she wanted to share. She retreated, leaving Sam in control. "Jack, I don't think he's a Goa'uld... At least, not the kind we know. A normal Goa'uld would never let its host talk..."
That's right! That's right! Jolinar praised. A Goa'uld wouldn't, but Tok'ra do all the time!
"Tok'ra," Sam blurted, latching onto the word. "Ask Teal'c about Tok'ra."
Jolinar flinched. There goes security.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
"'For every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction' this, in reference to good things in life, is immeasurablyyy true. It always seems that every time something good happens in your life, that something equally bad, or worse happens."
No links, but a note to the author, just from my unique point of view.
There are a lot of good things going on in life. More than anyone in our positions can comprehend, I gather. I don't know about much in your life, but I know that I'm lucky to live here in the US. I'm lucky to have the freedoms I do, and not just what's "guaranteed" by the Constitution. I have a lot more freedom than a lot of my friends, and I'm really grateful for that.
But as for the bad things in life, maybe you're not looking at everything from a broad enough perspective. When I moved from SC, I was crushed. I felt like the world was coming to an end, and life would never be the same. It hasn't, but the world hasn't ended either. A lot of good things came from that one hardship. 1-I'm going to a good school that offers a great deal more academic opportunities than Wren did. 2-I met a lot of really cool people once I got out of my comfort zone. 3-I'm a lot more social.
Then things got worse. Family problems and such that haven't been resolved for three years. But good things can come from that, too, as I'm starting to see. I may be able to help other people through similar difficulties, while really understanding and feeling what they're going through. It'd almost be worth it if I could do that.
Long story short, I'm just saying that while every good thing may seem to have an equal and opposite reaction, those equal and opposite reactions can have wide and good repercussions.
In this case, you may have learned something from such a hurting experience that will help you in the future. You said "Walls are easy to put up at first, hard to take down, and even harder to rebuild." What if those walls were hindering something else? Maybe you don't need them. They may define who you are now (or were then), but the question is: Do you need to stay that same person for your entire life?
Just asking you to consider everything before getting all depressed.... Or at least afterwards, as ranting and venting tends to make life look better the next day.
No links, but a note to the author, just from my unique point of view.
There are a lot of good things going on in life. More than anyone in our positions can comprehend, I gather. I don't know about much in your life, but I know that I'm lucky to live here in the US. I'm lucky to have the freedoms I do, and not just what's "guaranteed" by the Constitution. I have a lot more freedom than a lot of my friends, and I'm really grateful for that.
But as for the bad things in life, maybe you're not looking at everything from a broad enough perspective. When I moved from SC, I was crushed. I felt like the world was coming to an end, and life would never be the same. It hasn't, but the world hasn't ended either. A lot of good things came from that one hardship. 1-I'm going to a good school that offers a great deal more academic opportunities than Wren did. 2-I met a lot of really cool people once I got out of my comfort zone. 3-I'm a lot more social.
Then things got worse. Family problems and such that haven't been resolved for three years. But good things can come from that, too, as I'm starting to see. I may be able to help other people through similar difficulties, while really understanding and feeling what they're going through. It'd almost be worth it if I could do that.
Long story short, I'm just saying that while every good thing may seem to have an equal and opposite reaction, those equal and opposite reactions can have wide and good repercussions.
In this case, you may have learned something from such a hurting experience that will help you in the future. You said "Walls are easy to put up at first, hard to take down, and even harder to rebuild." What if those walls were hindering something else? Maybe you don't need them. They may define who you are now (or were then), but the question is: Do you need to stay that same person for your entire life?
Just asking you to consider everything before getting all depressed.... Or at least afterwards, as ranting and venting tends to make life look better the next day.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
My posts seem to be coming few and far between. I just haven't made time to get on here. It seems like my attention should be going in a thousand different directions. So let me brief you on that, whoever "you" may happen to be.
My uncle is the swim coach at my school; he has been for a while. Now, I love my uncle, of course, but we don't really connect. About the only things we have in common is videa games and swimming, but we have different definitions. He likes "blow up the other guys" games (and some racing ones that look much harder than podracing) and I like more vehicle-oriented stuff like Rogue Squadron and, like I said, podracing. As far as swimming, he thinks of competitive, stay in the lanes and do specific strokes stuff. I'm not all that competitive in anything physical, so swimming, to me, is being in the water and moving around, mostly without touching the bottom, and generally having a good time. So now he keeps bugging me about e-mailing him, but I don't know that he realizes how little time I've been spending on the computer. I still have an e-mail from a friend in Ohio to answer. I've got over four hundred e-mails in my inbox and over one hundred I haven't read. Wahoo. So I did it once already, but I had the wrong e-mail address. Argh.
In anohter direction, I'm still unfortunately in Girl Scouts, but I'm fairly certain that this will be my last year. As nice as Mrs. Branby is, she's pushing me in a direction I don't want to go. The way I see it, GS has very little to offer me. Yeah, knowledge, but it's not the in-depth, science or writing oriented stuff I like. It's people-oriented, and I don't particularly like people. I think God should come first, and GS is all trying to be politically correct and not step on any toes. Besides that, I'm the only one in my troop who's not Roman Catholic. I understand them about as much as I understand Mormans or Muslims. Not much. The only reason I still hang around is that my friend isn't allowed to drop out. Actually, there's another reason: GS looks good on college resumes, but I figure two years in HS will be plenty. I don't need something else distracting me while I'm trying to work through senior high.
Mom wanted me to join an afterschool activity this year, so I'm in forensics. (Boring.) I don't know what I'm doing there, but it's a little late to leave. I should be out picking a piece to read that's around ten minutes long. Hm... I've got all those scifi books sitting around up there. Maybe something from LOTR.
Oh, BTW, I'm also supposed to be practicing guitar. I need it this week. But there's always the weekend... before Stargate starts and after I finish homework....
So, as you're probably thinking from taking a gander at my many websites, I don't have much of a life. Never mind that I'm trying to fully devote myself to God, keep up the straight A's, and please every person I respect in my life, maybe with time to spare to be kinda social. Novel idea. In some of my spare time, I'm trying to get ready to learn to drive. I'm on page twenty-seven of the online driver's manuel. Figure that one out. (I'll give you a hint: I think it's in FTP format, 'cause you need Adobe to read it.)
Now that it's second semester, the teachers are figuring we need more homework, more pressure. Apparently, we've not being learning as much as we could (really! took 'em long enough), so they're all turning up the pressure.
My second semester elective, a programming course known as CHS Visual Basic 2, now incorporates a number of Pitt programming challenges, tests, and the Pitt final. I've had my taste of living on campus and going throughout a routine there; now I get to find out what the finals are like. (BTW, it's because of that campus experience summer before last that I got this website.) We're working on some crazy program about cleaning house. There I was, today, staring at the papers Miss Teacher handed out. And I knew that there were a hundred ways to accomplish the same end. How am I supposed to know what she wants? So I did some redundant programming, because her grading scale insisted that you must have a nested if then statement in the code for a command button in order to prevent the user from entering both square footage and length and width. But I'd already coded it so that it was physically impossible for someone to enter both; if you typed in txtSquareFootage, txt's length and width cleared and vice versa. Redundant? Repetitive? Rediculous? You betcha!
I can see from the blank looks on most of your faces that you're unfamiliar with programming, or VB at any rate. You don't know what txt means or what a command button is or exactly what I mean by coding, but you get the gist of it.
Chem isn't that much worse now. I kinda feel over my head, because it's such a fast-paced class, but I get it. Some of it seems so pointless. He wants us to write out everything. In doing mole to mole conversions (which aren't as pointless as they sound), he insists that we write the word formula then go directly to chemical formula to a balanced equation, but I don't see why I can't just go from ionic charges (which I'll write down when I see the words; it's much shorter) to a chemical formula to a balanced equation, all on the same line. It's much more efficient and saves my hand for study hall, where I'd get writing or reading done if anyone'd give me peace.
How's this for fair: Last night, Mrs. English assigned four chapters of a book previously known as "Im Western Nichts Neues" (the title of which they should've kept; it's much more accurate than "All Quiet on the Western Front"). Tonight, you'd expect we'd have another seventy-five pages. No. We have just chapter five to read. But that's okay; the other classes made up for it.
Trig's not that interesting now that we're doing it. It reminds me of chem. But our class had a great discussion about blood today. And hamsters chewing off their own tumors until they bled to death. And bloody noses. And other critters that bled to death. Mrs. Math's reactions were hilarious. I was greatly amused as I finished my homework that period.
History's got a tad more homework, but I don't expect it will continue. The one girl I know in class won't talk to me much; she's got too many friends. So I suppose our common interest goes down the drain. All well. David's still on my side of the room, so I bet I'll be getting to know him better. Two classes a day... Hm... I suppose he's not a person I'll want to despise? Not that I usually think like that, but it's an interesting point to consider. If I see him so often, I'm not going to want to dislike him. Good thing I can't hold a grudge while people will still talk to me. It's a great thing to not have.
Gotta go cook. BRB Cooking done. Socializing: check.
So I was almost done anyway, I see... kinda.
German was half study hall today. People seemed surprised that I didn't have my homework done, but when I had to read four gimungo pages from the history book and seventy-five from some German classic, I wasn't going to waste the last hours of my night finding foreign words in a huge word search. It was too much. Give me conjugations and translations, and I'll settle down. (I still have a German fan fic to decypher. It doesn't help that I'm only in German II.)
Then I get home and feel the pressures of my favorite pastime: literary pursuit. I'm constantly thinking: Do I have too much dialogue? Am I reading enough? Is it improper for me to go back and read these children's books in order to catch the religious significance of the storylines? Do I still read well if I don't read long books? Is my sentence structure too simple? Is my storyline too transparent? Am I writing too much fan fiction and not enough original fiction? How much longer should I press myself to continue this story if I've got two good reviews but I find it boring and my ideas have defenestrated themselves?
Some pasttime, eh? While I've only ever gotten one bad review and a whole bunch of really flattering ones, I know that the reviewers were comparing my stories on their own; they didn't compare them to authors I respect. (NOT JK Rowling, please; her sentence structure is too near my own for me to really enjoy it. I like noticing the differences between where I am and where the author is.) I want some reviewer to come on and say whether they like the story then point out specific things that I could work to improve. Maybe use some comparisons between my story and books I own and enjoy.
That was a nice lead-in for my next rant(?)... informational speech.
I've only three chapters left to go for Reeses, if even that many. I came upon the revelation yesterday that I need to end it with some joke or three, so I'm batting ideas back and forth. (gtg food) I'm also trying to work on original stories. I think I have eight or so up on fiction press (yeah, eight), and only three are done. I've momentarily/permanately given up interest in four of them, so even though I have only one review, I'm trying to add to the 512, which is kind of a crossover of Countdown, Battlestar Galactica, Stargate, Star Trek, and maybe Star Wars. It's got my attention this week. Next week I might work on Reeses more.
Did I mention that I feel that I should get a job soon and Chick-fil-A is about full?
My uncle is the swim coach at my school; he has been for a while. Now, I love my uncle, of course, but we don't really connect. About the only things we have in common is videa games and swimming, but we have different definitions. He likes "blow up the other guys" games (and some racing ones that look much harder than podracing) and I like more vehicle-oriented stuff like Rogue Squadron and, like I said, podracing. As far as swimming, he thinks of competitive, stay in the lanes and do specific strokes stuff. I'm not all that competitive in anything physical, so swimming, to me, is being in the water and moving around, mostly without touching the bottom, and generally having a good time. So now he keeps bugging me about e-mailing him, but I don't know that he realizes how little time I've been spending on the computer. I still have an e-mail from a friend in Ohio to answer. I've got over four hundred e-mails in my inbox and over one hundred I haven't read. Wahoo. So I did it once already, but I had the wrong e-mail address. Argh.
In anohter direction, I'm still unfortunately in Girl Scouts, but I'm fairly certain that this will be my last year. As nice as Mrs. Branby is, she's pushing me in a direction I don't want to go. The way I see it, GS has very little to offer me. Yeah, knowledge, but it's not the in-depth, science or writing oriented stuff I like. It's people-oriented, and I don't particularly like people. I think God should come first, and GS is all trying to be politically correct and not step on any toes. Besides that, I'm the only one in my troop who's not Roman Catholic. I understand them about as much as I understand Mormans or Muslims. Not much. The only reason I still hang around is that my friend isn't allowed to drop out. Actually, there's another reason: GS looks good on college resumes, but I figure two years in HS will be plenty. I don't need something else distracting me while I'm trying to work through senior high.
Mom wanted me to join an afterschool activity this year, so I'm in forensics. (Boring.) I don't know what I'm doing there, but it's a little late to leave. I should be out picking a piece to read that's around ten minutes long. Hm... I've got all those scifi books sitting around up there. Maybe something from LOTR.
Oh, BTW, I'm also supposed to be practicing guitar. I need it this week. But there's always the weekend... before Stargate starts and after I finish homework....
So, as you're probably thinking from taking a gander at my many websites, I don't have much of a life. Never mind that I'm trying to fully devote myself to God, keep up the straight A's, and please every person I respect in my life, maybe with time to spare to be kinda social. Novel idea. In some of my spare time, I'm trying to get ready to learn to drive. I'm on page twenty-seven of the online driver's manuel. Figure that one out. (I'll give you a hint: I think it's in FTP format, 'cause you need Adobe to read it.)
Now that it's second semester, the teachers are figuring we need more homework, more pressure. Apparently, we've not being learning as much as we could (really! took 'em long enough), so they're all turning up the pressure.
My second semester elective, a programming course known as CHS Visual Basic 2, now incorporates a number of Pitt programming challenges, tests, and the Pitt final. I've had my taste of living on campus and going throughout a routine there; now I get to find out what the finals are like. (BTW, it's because of that campus experience summer before last that I got this website.) We're working on some crazy program about cleaning house. There I was, today, staring at the papers Miss Teacher handed out. And I knew that there were a hundred ways to accomplish the same end. How am I supposed to know what she wants? So I did some redundant programming, because her grading scale insisted that you must have a nested if then statement in the code for a command button in order to prevent the user from entering both square footage and length and width. But I'd already coded it so that it was physically impossible for someone to enter both; if you typed in txtSquareFootage, txt's length and width cleared and vice versa. Redundant? Repetitive? Rediculous? You betcha!
I can see from the blank looks on most of your faces that you're unfamiliar with programming, or VB at any rate. You don't know what txt means or what a command button is or exactly what I mean by coding, but you get the gist of it.
Chem isn't that much worse now. I kinda feel over my head, because it's such a fast-paced class, but I get it. Some of it seems so pointless. He wants us to write out everything. In doing mole to mole conversions (which aren't as pointless as they sound), he insists that we write the word formula then go directly to chemical formula to a balanced equation, but I don't see why I can't just go from ionic charges (which I'll write down when I see the words; it's much shorter) to a chemical formula to a balanced equation, all on the same line. It's much more efficient and saves my hand for study hall, where I'd get writing or reading done if anyone'd give me peace.
How's this for fair: Last night, Mrs. English assigned four chapters of a book previously known as "Im Western Nichts Neues" (the title of which they should've kept; it's much more accurate than "All Quiet on the Western Front"). Tonight, you'd expect we'd have another seventy-five pages. No. We have just chapter five to read. But that's okay; the other classes made up for it.
Trig's not that interesting now that we're doing it. It reminds me of chem. But our class had a great discussion about blood today. And hamsters chewing off their own tumors until they bled to death. And bloody noses. And other critters that bled to death. Mrs. Math's reactions were hilarious. I was greatly amused as I finished my homework that period.
History's got a tad more homework, but I don't expect it will continue. The one girl I know in class won't talk to me much; she's got too many friends. So I suppose our common interest goes down the drain. All well. David's still on my side of the room, so I bet I'll be getting to know him better. Two classes a day... Hm... I suppose he's not a person I'll want to despise? Not that I usually think like that, but it's an interesting point to consider. If I see him so often, I'm not going to want to dislike him. Good thing I can't hold a grudge while people will still talk to me. It's a great thing to not have.
Gotta go cook. BRB Cooking done. Socializing: check.
So I was almost done anyway, I see... kinda.
German was half study hall today. People seemed surprised that I didn't have my homework done, but when I had to read four gimungo pages from the history book and seventy-five from some German classic, I wasn't going to waste the last hours of my night finding foreign words in a huge word search. It was too much. Give me conjugations and translations, and I'll settle down. (I still have a German fan fic to decypher. It doesn't help that I'm only in German II.)
Then I get home and feel the pressures of my favorite pastime: literary pursuit. I'm constantly thinking: Do I have too much dialogue? Am I reading enough? Is it improper for me to go back and read these children's books in order to catch the religious significance of the storylines? Do I still read well if I don't read long books? Is my sentence structure too simple? Is my storyline too transparent? Am I writing too much fan fiction and not enough original fiction? How much longer should I press myself to continue this story if I've got two good reviews but I find it boring and my ideas have defenestrated themselves?
Some pasttime, eh? While I've only ever gotten one bad review and a whole bunch of really flattering ones, I know that the reviewers were comparing my stories on their own; they didn't compare them to authors I respect. (NOT JK Rowling, please; her sentence structure is too near my own for me to really enjoy it. I like noticing the differences between where I am and where the author is.) I want some reviewer to come on and say whether they like the story then point out specific things that I could work to improve. Maybe use some comparisons between my story and books I own and enjoy.
That was a nice lead-in for my next rant(?)... informational speech.
I've only three chapters left to go for Reeses, if even that many. I came upon the revelation yesterday that I need to end it with some joke or three, so I'm batting ideas back and forth. (gtg food) I'm also trying to work on original stories. I think I have eight or so up on fiction press (yeah, eight), and only three are done. I've momentarily/permanately given up interest in four of them, so even though I have only one review, I'm trying to add to the 512, which is kind of a crossover of Countdown, Battlestar Galactica, Stargate, Star Trek, and maybe Star Wars. It's got my attention this week. Next week I might work on Reeses more.
Did I mention that I feel that I should get a job soon and Chick-fil-A is about full?
Thursday, December 16, 2004
I haven't been on here in such a long time! My goodness! All the myriad of posts in the first year and then it just kinda drops off... Not really, but that's kinda how it seems. So you can see how much I've written in the past however long, 'cause that's about all I've posted, but very little's up here on my life, my frustrations. That's what this doesn't get updated much: I don't care to take the time to get out the frustrations and such in writing. I mean, when I get really upset, I'll sit somewhere alone and jot down everything that's bugging while bawling my eyes out then I'll keep the three to five pages under lock and key until I finish the notebook, but I kinda just feel melancholy at the moment, and I don't want to do homework. So I'll ramble here for a bit.
As is evident to those who are around me at all, school is really frustrating this year. I don't really love any of my classes. They just drone on and on. Lately, I've approached the whole school/learning thing with a great deal of apathy, which is fairly unusual for me. Every other year, I've just figured that since I have to do it, I might as well try to be content, but now, it's just like there's an undercurrent of unpleasantness that's always got me in a sour mood. I don't want to talk. I don't want to write. All I'm really content to do is eat, sleep, and complain. To everyone who's been around me and listened for the past month (parents, Carey, Jena... add more later), thank you so very much. I know none of you are every going to read this, but the one person who does will you know that you're all such awesome people, and I really appreciate your patience with me! Maybe soon enough, that undercurrent will be gone!
It's pretty depressing, though, that whole undercurrent thing. Whatever it is. A sense of discontent in my life. School doesn't seem to be living up to its mandate. I always feel like I'm on the go, and I'm always happy for some time to step back and relax. Part of this, I think, has to do with braces, as odd as it sounds. With them on, I can't eat half the healthy stuff I used to, so I've been eating a lot more junk. I bet that's it. Body chemistry out of whack from not eating right. They always said there'd be consequences. The Saturday after I get them off or I don't have to do anything with them anymore, I'm going to do absolutely nothing all day but lie on the couch and eat carrots. Maybe and apple or two for some variety. It's insane how much I miss carrots. Of all things! Back in seventh grade, I used to do that a bunch: reading and eating carrots for an entire day. It was nice. Of course, that was before I got into Stargate, but you know what? They don't show new episodes of Stargate on Saturdays, so what've I got to lose?
So back to that discontent.... I've been thinking for a while that since most of my classes get on my nerves and I don't really like most of my teachers, I should try to get in-school-suspension. I know it's a punishment and all, but think about it. They stick you in a room where no-one's allowed to talk for the entire school day. Your teachers send up your work/class notes, whatnot, and you get nine periods to sit there in silence. You know how much reading I could get done with the time I'd have left over? You know how much writing I could get done in that silence? My gosh, it'd almost have to be heaven!!! And this is for a punishment!!!! The only thing is that with the peace comes the shame of having earned it. (Am I thinking like a Yuuzong Vong yet?) That alone would probably crush my spirits. That and the company. I'm such a teacher's pet!! The thought of getting in trouble that big and I'd cry! Seriously. It's...disturbing. I wonder if I could get in there for something minor like getting six or seven lates to a class (not hard when you're world-weary, sick, and have no motivation to get to your class on time) then skip a detention or two... On the other hand, that's pretty hard. Maybe I can just ask for it. Think they'd give me ISS as a Christmas present? After all, they've got nothing to lose by it.
What? You're looking at me funny. Trust me, if you saw things as I see them and had my teachers, you'd have no trouble contemplating ISS. I mean, most of my classes are so boring! Quick run-down, in case you care.
Visual Basic is taught by the teacher who also teaches the lowest level of math someone at my school can be in. She's used to dealing with kids who aren't so bright. So we go ultra-slow, 'cause apparently, some people in our class need it. About every fourth or fifth, maybe sixth day, I can just sit around and read or goof off the whole period, as I did for half the period today. While I'm not incredibly good at programming, I understand most of it, even if I haven't committed the vocab and good programming guidelines to memory. But I'm quick and I type fast. So I finish.
Chem. Okay, it's not to bad. It's one of those classes that has potential. It's half math, and everyone thinks I'm good at math, so it's not so bad. The only really boring thing is that we go over every math problem. I'm more of a mind of "tell me the answer, and if I get it wrong, give me a couple minutes to figure it out before telling me. . . " But it's an honors class with a math prerequisite, so it's not so bad.
English, however, is another story. Officially, it's an honors class, but it's incredibly boring. We do almost all the work in class, out loud, and in groups. It's almost as if she doesn't trust our abilities to figure stuff out on our own. I find it insulting, degrading, condescending, etc. And everytime I get called on to answer a question and just happen to use a, uh, "complicated" word, she asks me to explain it. Which is, again, insulting. She could be doing it for one of two reasons, I rekon. One, she figures not everyone in the class knows the word. My response: everyone in the class knows it. 'Cept for a few, and they either can figure it out on their own or don't care. Or two, she figures I'm trying to be obsequious and don't know what I'm talking about, which I do. I don't try to use big words until I fully comprehend their meaning. By then, they're completely integrated into my vocabulary, which I won't censor just to please someone, especially an English teacher. Okay, seriously, who my age in an honors English class doesn't know the following words, which we have to "learn" for the test: apprehension, annihilate, paramount, recoil, increment, suspense, onomatopoeia, alliteration, rhyme, ballad, sonnet, image, connotation, symbol, figure of speech, extended metaphor, poetry, similie, and metaphor. Seriously. Insulting. Can I get an Amen? I read. I write. I want to be an author. Give me something challenging or leave me to my own device!!! Please! Before I go insane! ("To the funny farm, with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers, who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes, and they're coming to take me away, ha ha!")
*sigh* So to continue...
Speech. Easy. Usually have half the class to sit and do nothing. I've learned nothing except that I can do speeches anywhere but in speech class. Go figure.
Math. So I'm actually doing precalc. Happy, happy, we've mostly been doing stuff we did last year, but we're finally to logs again. Happy, happy. Logs. I usually read during half the class, mostly because of that attitude of apathy (<- Look! It's a word I'd I've to explain in English!). I don't care if I got them right or wrong. Sure, I'll mark them, but I won't look back to see where I messed up. I usually understand what we're doing, or even if I don't, I can do it and just save the effort of understanding for later. (Note: the understanding part alludes to the connection between the actual work and what it means. For example, I can take log(x/2) and change it to log x - log 2 . I know how to do it, but I don't know why it's the same.) Anyway, so I do it, I keep up, and I get a chapter read as well while the teacher's trying to explain something to E. or J.
History isn't all that wonderful either, but it's better than last year. At least now my teacher views history in the same way that I do: who cares what happened back then unless it directly pertains to what's going on now or is just plain interesting. Mostly overviews for whatever happened more than two hundred years ago, and not to much detail on the actual history of a country when compared to how much we learn about the culture and why they're like that. Up my alley except for the just-below-par pacing.
German. I would love it. Wirklich! The only thing is that we spend half the period waiting for the high-school kids to get their skinny little behinds through the threshold of the door. Frau gets distracted easily, too, so we hardly ever learn anything. I hear it gets better next year, though, so that'll be good.
Okay, seeing a theme? For someone like me, who tries to be intellectual (though not everyone knows that now as much as they used to; I've lighted up since starting to write), it's like nails on the chalkboard. The bits and pieces of spare time. It's like pennies. You have a bunch, and it adds up to a lot, but it's in such small increments that you really can't do anything with it. My oft-heard cry is "The school is wasting my life!!!" I hope you agree with me, 'cause I think I've made it plainly obvious. It's frustring. I don't want to put myself on a pedastal here, but I can take stuff a lot faster than many of my classmates can, and it's grinding. It's frustrating. If I don't find something to do, it's going to wear me awfully thin. I feel so apathetic now, but I imagine it can only get worse if I don't try to do something. Gosh, why didn't I ask my parents to send me to a montesari (sp?) school when i had the chance. "No, I'll keep going, I don't need it," I said. And now I'm sitting around, annoyed out of my mind. Just so you know, I did actually go to talk to my guidance councilor (for the second time in my life). She said that there wasn't anything she could do without screwing up my entire schedule. Not that I'd care. I just don't want out of the one class I have friends in.
Alrighty, I suppose I have to get going soon. As I said before, I'm working on neglecting my homework. I think I feel a little bit better, but enough energy is drained out of me at the moment that I really don't know. I should get on tomorrow. Maybe that'd be good.
God be with you.
As is evident to those who are around me at all, school is really frustrating this year. I don't really love any of my classes. They just drone on and on. Lately, I've approached the whole school/learning thing with a great deal of apathy, which is fairly unusual for me. Every other year, I've just figured that since I have to do it, I might as well try to be content, but now, it's just like there's an undercurrent of unpleasantness that's always got me in a sour mood. I don't want to talk. I don't want to write. All I'm really content to do is eat, sleep, and complain. To everyone who's been around me and listened for the past month (parents, Carey, Jena... add more later), thank you so very much. I know none of you are every going to read this, but the one person who does will you know that you're all such awesome people, and I really appreciate your patience with me! Maybe soon enough, that undercurrent will be gone!
It's pretty depressing, though, that whole undercurrent thing. Whatever it is. A sense of discontent in my life. School doesn't seem to be living up to its mandate. I always feel like I'm on the go, and I'm always happy for some time to step back and relax. Part of this, I think, has to do with braces, as odd as it sounds. With them on, I can't eat half the healthy stuff I used to, so I've been eating a lot more junk. I bet that's it. Body chemistry out of whack from not eating right. They always said there'd be consequences. The Saturday after I get them off or I don't have to do anything with them anymore, I'm going to do absolutely nothing all day but lie on the couch and eat carrots. Maybe and apple or two for some variety. It's insane how much I miss carrots. Of all things! Back in seventh grade, I used to do that a bunch: reading and eating carrots for an entire day. It was nice. Of course, that was before I got into Stargate, but you know what? They don't show new episodes of Stargate on Saturdays, so what've I got to lose?
So back to that discontent.... I've been thinking for a while that since most of my classes get on my nerves and I don't really like most of my teachers, I should try to get in-school-suspension. I know it's a punishment and all, but think about it. They stick you in a room where no-one's allowed to talk for the entire school day. Your teachers send up your work/class notes, whatnot, and you get nine periods to sit there in silence. You know how much reading I could get done with the time I'd have left over? You know how much writing I could get done in that silence? My gosh, it'd almost have to be heaven!!! And this is for a punishment!!!! The only thing is that with the peace comes the shame of having earned it. (Am I thinking like a Yuuzong Vong yet?) That alone would probably crush my spirits. That and the company. I'm such a teacher's pet!! The thought of getting in trouble that big and I'd cry! Seriously. It's...disturbing. I wonder if I could get in there for something minor like getting six or seven lates to a class (not hard when you're world-weary, sick, and have no motivation to get to your class on time) then skip a detention or two... On the other hand, that's pretty hard. Maybe I can just ask for it. Think they'd give me ISS as a Christmas present? After all, they've got nothing to lose by it.
What? You're looking at me funny. Trust me, if you saw things as I see them and had my teachers, you'd have no trouble contemplating ISS. I mean, most of my classes are so boring! Quick run-down, in case you care.
Visual Basic is taught by the teacher who also teaches the lowest level of math someone at my school can be in. She's used to dealing with kids who aren't so bright. So we go ultra-slow, 'cause apparently, some people in our class need it. About every fourth or fifth, maybe sixth day, I can just sit around and read or goof off the whole period, as I did for half the period today. While I'm not incredibly good at programming, I understand most of it, even if I haven't committed the vocab and good programming guidelines to memory. But I'm quick and I type fast. So I finish.
Chem. Okay, it's not to bad. It's one of those classes that has potential. It's half math, and everyone thinks I'm good at math, so it's not so bad. The only really boring thing is that we go over every math problem. I'm more of a mind of "tell me the answer, and if I get it wrong, give me a couple minutes to figure it out before telling me. . . " But it's an honors class with a math prerequisite, so it's not so bad.
English, however, is another story. Officially, it's an honors class, but it's incredibly boring. We do almost all the work in class, out loud, and in groups. It's almost as if she doesn't trust our abilities to figure stuff out on our own. I find it insulting, degrading, condescending, etc. And everytime I get called on to answer a question and just happen to use a, uh, "complicated" word, she asks me to explain it. Which is, again, insulting. She could be doing it for one of two reasons, I rekon. One, she figures not everyone in the class knows the word. My response: everyone in the class knows it. 'Cept for a few, and they either can figure it out on their own or don't care. Or two, she figures I'm trying to be obsequious and don't know what I'm talking about, which I do. I don't try to use big words until I fully comprehend their meaning. By then, they're completely integrated into my vocabulary, which I won't censor just to please someone, especially an English teacher. Okay, seriously, who my age in an honors English class doesn't know the following words, which we have to "learn" for the test: apprehension, annihilate, paramount, recoil, increment, suspense, onomatopoeia, alliteration, rhyme, ballad, sonnet, image, connotation, symbol, figure of speech, extended metaphor, poetry, similie, and metaphor. Seriously. Insulting. Can I get an Amen? I read. I write. I want to be an author. Give me something challenging or leave me to my own device!!! Please! Before I go insane! ("To the funny farm, with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers, who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes, and they're coming to take me away, ha ha!")
*sigh* So to continue...
Speech. Easy. Usually have half the class to sit and do nothing. I've learned nothing except that I can do speeches anywhere but in speech class. Go figure.
Math. So I'm actually doing precalc. Happy, happy, we've mostly been doing stuff we did last year, but we're finally to logs again. Happy, happy. Logs. I usually read during half the class, mostly because of that attitude of apathy (<- Look! It's a word I'd I've to explain in English!). I don't care if I got them right or wrong. Sure, I'll mark them, but I won't look back to see where I messed up. I usually understand what we're doing, or even if I don't, I can do it and just save the effort of understanding for later. (Note: the understanding part alludes to the connection between the actual work and what it means. For example, I can take log(x/2) and change it to log x - log 2 . I know how to do it, but I don't know why it's the same.) Anyway, so I do it, I keep up, and I get a chapter read as well while the teacher's trying to explain something to E. or J.
History isn't all that wonderful either, but it's better than last year. At least now my teacher views history in the same way that I do: who cares what happened back then unless it directly pertains to what's going on now or is just plain interesting. Mostly overviews for whatever happened more than two hundred years ago, and not to much detail on the actual history of a country when compared to how much we learn about the culture and why they're like that. Up my alley except for the just-below-par pacing.
German. I would love it. Wirklich! The only thing is that we spend half the period waiting for the high-school kids to get their skinny little behinds through the threshold of the door. Frau gets distracted easily, too, so we hardly ever learn anything. I hear it gets better next year, though, so that'll be good.
Okay, seeing a theme? For someone like me, who tries to be intellectual (though not everyone knows that now as much as they used to; I've lighted up since starting to write), it's like nails on the chalkboard. The bits and pieces of spare time. It's like pennies. You have a bunch, and it adds up to a lot, but it's in such small increments that you really can't do anything with it. My oft-heard cry is "The school is wasting my life!!!" I hope you agree with me, 'cause I think I've made it plainly obvious. It's frustring. I don't want to put myself on a pedastal here, but I can take stuff a lot faster than many of my classmates can, and it's grinding. It's frustrating. If I don't find something to do, it's going to wear me awfully thin. I feel so apathetic now, but I imagine it can only get worse if I don't try to do something. Gosh, why didn't I ask my parents to send me to a montesari (sp?) school when i had the chance. "No, I'll keep going, I don't need it," I said. And now I'm sitting around, annoyed out of my mind. Just so you know, I did actually go to talk to my guidance councilor (for the second time in my life). She said that there wasn't anything she could do without screwing up my entire schedule. Not that I'd care. I just don't want out of the one class I have friends in.
Alrighty, I suppose I have to get going soon. As I said before, I'm working on neglecting my homework. I think I feel a little bit better, but enough energy is drained out of me at the moment that I really don't know. I should get on tomorrow. Maybe that'd be good.
God be with you.
Wow. More poetry. The "treat" continues. Wait a minute, maybe that should have an "h" in it... Depends on your view of my poetry. (Which you can always communicate to me by leaving a comment, hint hint!) *reviewing first poem* Wow. That really stinks. You can just kinda tell that I wrote that for an assignment in English. We were looking at a picture and had to incorporate two examples of rhyme, onemonepia (which I could spell right if I cared), and alliteration. Unfortunately, assonance wasn't required.
"Jump"
Vroom. Zoom.
I can see from my roost
cars go speeding by.
We are up so high.
If something went wrong
while we wait....
Turn up a song
forego my fate
The bungee is secure.
Chatter.
"Empty House"
He is not here
this man you seek.
He left for the pier
early this week.
A clatter.
A splash.
Kerplundge!
Gurgle.
We wonder why
this gregarious guy
sank without speaking
to kids in his keeping.
Note: That one really isn't much better, but it flows a bit more easily than the first. To my way of thinking, both are pretty morbid. Gee, I wonder how I feel about English class....
"Jump"
Vroom. Zoom.
I can see from my roost
cars go speeding by.
We are up so high.
If something went wrong
while we wait....
Turn up a song
forego my fate
The bungee is secure.
Chatter.
"Empty House"
He is not here
this man you seek.
He left for the pier
early this week.
A clatter.
A splash.
Kerplundge!
Gurgle.
We wonder why
this gregarious guy
sank without speaking
to kids in his keeping.
Note: That one really isn't much better, but it flows a bit more easily than the first. To my way of thinking, both are pretty morbid. Gee, I wonder how I feel about English class....
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
The rare post containing poetry. Don't worry; I didn't exactly do it voluntarily--we're doing poetry in English. Most of it's bothering me.
"Brownie"
The gentle, heavenly cloud
creeps up the stairs to my alcove,
tickling my nose, teasing my tongue,
and beckoning for me to travel to the kitchen.
The scent carries me down like an elevator,
dragging me on like a puppy on a walk
some sunny summer Sunday.
I am soon that happy pup,
digging into the soft, lucious layers of
brownies.
"Courage of a Friend"
Writing, always writing.
Hiding, always hiding.
Wishing, always wishing.
Grief from a personal past,
gliding through the heart,
a guilletine.
Writing is an escape,
a fire exit
a life boat,
a string of strength
tying back to the grounds of sanity.
A vacation,
a break,
the eye of quiet
in the midst of the hurricane of life.
Quick, keep it hidden!
"Were someone to know the grief,
I could never belong!"
So you think.
Normalcy must remain!
Keep the status quo!
"I must remain!"
Do you know your strength?
Do you know your smarts?
Do you know your friends?
They admire you,
love you,
wish you the best of life,
everything of what you deserve.
You are strong.
You will make it.
You will survive.
You are smart.
You will make it.
You will survive.
You are corageous.
You will make it.
You will survive.
You have friends.
You will make it.
They will help you survive.
"Tree in SC"
I sit upon the lowest branch
of a thick, old oak.
My back leans against the rough bark.
My skin delights in the pleasantly warm air.
I smell the nearby pines and black berry bushes;
their perfect perfume calls,
reminding me of the approaching Christmas
and past summer.
A gentle breeze sways the top branches of the woods,
gently whispering secret messages
from one part of nature to another.
Yards away, dogs bark, kids play.
It is an autumn afternoon.
"Mein Bett"
I breathe deep,
allowing a cloud of comfort
to lift my spirit.
Fresh sheets are always nice.
I close my eyes,
allowing a blanket of peace
to engulf my being.
I do not care to see.
I snuggle deeper,
allowing an igloo of warmth
to relax my muscles.
This is called contentment.
I try not to listen,
allowing no barking
to disturb my mood.
Dogs can be such a pain.
Do not think;
it will not help.
Anxiety belongs elsewhere.
Falling asleep agai--
There goes the clock.
Time to get up.
The day calls.
Groan.
"Your Brain on English Class"
Sitting in a regimented room,
stifling hot in the cold school,
stiff.
Creativity bleeding away,
seeping out of my mind
like blood from a dying warrior's wounds.
Clawing at the noose
closing tight around my neck.
Criticism
Always.
"You're not working in my way,
by my rules."
Self-centered.
I won't do htings your way.
Not today.
Other days I might,
had I the energy
to invest effort in those things
with practicality that defys logic.
You're here to teach, not rule,
so they have told me;
I'm here to learn, not submit,
so I have deduced.
These things are counterproductive,
born to make your life easy
and mine hard.
I do think.
I do learn.
This is not thinking.
This is not learning.
Total submission.
(like reviews, comments are always welcome!)
Monday, November 29, 2004
Announce11::Diamonds Are Forever
Sarah lay back on the cool, wet grass of a park just northwest of Colorado Springs, staring up at a myriad of diamond stars in the coal mine sky. Everything around her was peaceful, still, basking in the sheer perfection of Creation. Deciduous trees and tall wild grasses swayed in the slight breeze that meandered across Earth's surface. The air was cool, crisp; the Tok'ra fleetingly noticed her breath rhythmically rising in to the sky.
As calming and appealing as her surroundings were, Sarah had other things to think about. She and Vinnet were worried about Vandrof, who had been placed in a tank with a low electric charge until he again had a host. While he remained there, the life-preserving contraption was nothing less that solitary confinement. He could see outside, but he could not contribute, could not communicate. Vinnet sympathized with his position since she'd had the same confinement for three months before she blended with Sarah. She did not wish any of it for her friend.
On top of that, she was not unaware of the mounting tension among the Tok'ra. While some were grateful for any host, many felt that too many Tok'ra now sympathized too much with the Tau'ri. Although the former way of thinking still seemed to hold quite a bit of power in the High Council--otherwise they would not have asked for the declassification of their existence--Sarah had always worried that the discontent with strong-willed hosts would increase to the point that the Council would recall her.
A twig cracked, breaking into the crickets' monotonous chorus as well as the Tok'ra's thoughts. Vinnet took over, sitting up quickly, uselessly staring into the deep shadows on every side of the clearing. She sat perfectly still, keeping as low to the ground as she could without looking like a guerilla fighter. A few more twigs cracked, and the shuffling sound of a person making his way through the dry underbrush came to her ears. Finally, she recognized the figure emerging from the shadows as her host's boyfriend, David Rice.
Vinnet retreated on the condition that Sarah propose the symbiote's solution to one of the issues plaguing her. "Hey," the Tok'ra greeted, standing up to give a hug. "Thanks for meeting me here on such short notice."
He smiled as they embraced, his expression showing him to be tense. "It's beautiful out here tonight; I'm glad you thought of it." His voice sounded completely sincere, albeit extremely tired.
"Did you see the news last night?" she wondered, thinking to go about Vinnet's request in a logical way.
David nodded. "I actually did. My boss told me to check the news when I got home. It was interesting, but stuff like that just seems so remote. The news said some people think it's the end of the world."
"Yeah, right," Sarah commented, at first dismissing the idea as ridiculous; the Tok'ra's sudden appearance in the world's view of the universe should not cause a catastrophe. Then she considered another possibility: perhaps the proposed "end of the world" originated not from the Tok'ra but from another source, such as the Ha'tak lurking in Neptune's orbit.
David smiled and took a deep breath. Then he bent down to get to the ground, only to sop halfway through the motion. He took her hand. "Sarah," he began, pulling a small box from his pocket, "if there's any chance the world's going to end or be attacked by aliens or whatever, I need to ask you..." He gently opened the box as he finished, revealing a dainty ring bearing a small diamond. "Will you marry me?"
The Tok'ra stopped breathing for a couple seconds until Vinnet reminded her that it was necessary for their survival. She knelt down to David's eye level, her emotions conflicting. She certainly loved David, but with all that was going on, Sarah was far from ready to become engaged. "I want to say yes..."
"Then say it," he quipped quietly.
"There's so much you don't know about me."
"I know enough."
Sarah shook her head. After hiding an essential part of her life for so many years, she couldn't imagine that it was possible for him to even guess to what she refered. "No, you don't."
"I learn quickly."
She sighed, glancing enviously to the dark, peaceful woods as a tear slid down her face. "I've been lying to you since we met," she admitting, knowing the words set as much ice in David's stomach as it did in her own.
He gazed at the outline of her face he could see in the moonlight as he settled onto the grass. "How so?" he whispered after a while.
Sarah also sat back on the brass. "That's why I wanted to see you as soon as you got off work. Truth be told, I'm glad you saw the news last night but not today."
He frowned. "Why? What happened?"
"I'm a Tok'ra."
"What!"
Sarah continued slowly, ignoring his outburst. "Until yesterday, that fact was classified. I couldn't tell you anything related to my real job or who I really am. I probably told you too much, but I don't regret it, especially now."
His eyes left her face, and he seemed to be meditating on a small, lonely wildflower just in front of him. "So all this time I spent trying to get to know you..."
"Was still worthwhile. I didn't deceive you about everything, just when it came to classified things."
"Then I suppose you've never been to Germany." His voice held a hint of anger... or maybe it was disappointment.
"No, but I wish I could go."
The frustration in his voice grew. "Then, Sarah--and I hope that really is your name--"
"Usually," she admitted quietly.
"--where have you been all the times you went away on business?"
She sighed, knowing this was going to sound loony to him. Why did Tau'ri always have to seem so scared of new, foreign ideas? "I had to go offworld, to other planets. There are too few of us for Vinnet to live here without doing something useful."
"No, just living your own life isn't good enough," he replied sarcastically.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Daivd, the galaxy's a lot more dangerous than anybody's letting on. Earth could be a vacation world, but I've lived here all my life. It's not fair to the other Tok'ra if they're all working their tails off and risking their lives and I'm just sitting here doing nothing."
David sighed. "So living here and building relationships and getting a Masters degree in aerospace engineering and astrophysics all equates to doing nothing?"
The Tok'ra thought about it, then laughed for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it does mean nothing. It's not helping our cause much, though it might eventually help me MacGyver a hyperdrive in the distant future." She shrugged, trying to ignore David's hurt expression. "College is mostly something to pass the time and see if there's anything we know that can help the Tok'ra."
Sarah lay back on the cool, wet grass of a park just northwest of Colorado Springs, staring up at a myriad of diamond stars in the coal mine sky. Everything around her was peaceful, still, basking in the sheer perfection of Creation. Deciduous trees and tall wild grasses swayed in the slight breeze that meandered across Earth's surface. The air was cool, crisp; the Tok'ra fleetingly noticed her breath rhythmically rising in to the sky.
As calming and appealing as her surroundings were, Sarah had other things to think about. She and Vinnet were worried about Vandrof, who had been placed in a tank with a low electric charge until he again had a host. While he remained there, the life-preserving contraption was nothing less that solitary confinement. He could see outside, but he could not contribute, could not communicate. Vinnet sympathized with his position since she'd had the same confinement for three months before she blended with Sarah. She did not wish any of it for her friend.
On top of that, she was not unaware of the mounting tension among the Tok'ra. While some were grateful for any host, many felt that too many Tok'ra now sympathized too much with the Tau'ri. Although the former way of thinking still seemed to hold quite a bit of power in the High Council--otherwise they would not have asked for the declassification of their existence--Sarah had always worried that the discontent with strong-willed hosts would increase to the point that the Council would recall her.
A twig cracked, breaking into the crickets' monotonous chorus as well as the Tok'ra's thoughts. Vinnet took over, sitting up quickly, uselessly staring into the deep shadows on every side of the clearing. She sat perfectly still, keeping as low to the ground as she could without looking like a guerilla fighter. A few more twigs cracked, and the shuffling sound of a person making his way through the dry underbrush came to her ears. Finally, she recognized the figure emerging from the shadows as her host's boyfriend, David Rice.
Vinnet retreated on the condition that Sarah propose the symbiote's solution to one of the issues plaguing her. "Hey," the Tok'ra greeted, standing up to give a hug. "Thanks for meeting me here on such short notice."
He smiled as they embraced, his expression showing him to be tense. "It's beautiful out here tonight; I'm glad you thought of it." His voice sounded completely sincere, albeit extremely tired.
"Did you see the news last night?" she wondered, thinking to go about Vinnet's request in a logical way.
David nodded. "I actually did. My boss told me to check the news when I got home. It was interesting, but stuff like that just seems so remote. The news said some people think it's the end of the world."
"Yeah, right," Sarah commented, at first dismissing the idea as ridiculous; the Tok'ra's sudden appearance in the world's view of the universe should not cause a catastrophe. Then she considered another possibility: perhaps the proposed "end of the world" originated not from the Tok'ra but from another source, such as the Ha'tak lurking in Neptune's orbit.
David smiled and took a deep breath. Then he bent down to get to the ground, only to sop halfway through the motion. He took her hand. "Sarah," he began, pulling a small box from his pocket, "if there's any chance the world's going to end or be attacked by aliens or whatever, I need to ask you..." He gently opened the box as he finished, revealing a dainty ring bearing a small diamond. "Will you marry me?"
The Tok'ra stopped breathing for a couple seconds until Vinnet reminded her that it was necessary for their survival. She knelt down to David's eye level, her emotions conflicting. She certainly loved David, but with all that was going on, Sarah was far from ready to become engaged. "I want to say yes..."
"Then say it," he quipped quietly.
"There's so much you don't know about me."
"I know enough."
Sarah shook her head. After hiding an essential part of her life for so many years, she couldn't imagine that it was possible for him to even guess to what she refered. "No, you don't."
"I learn quickly."
She sighed, glancing enviously to the dark, peaceful woods as a tear slid down her face. "I've been lying to you since we met," she admitting, knowing the words set as much ice in David's stomach as it did in her own.
He gazed at the outline of her face he could see in the moonlight as he settled onto the grass. "How so?" he whispered after a while.
Sarah also sat back on the brass. "That's why I wanted to see you as soon as you got off work. Truth be told, I'm glad you saw the news last night but not today."
He frowned. "Why? What happened?"
"I'm a Tok'ra."
"What!"
Sarah continued slowly, ignoring his outburst. "Until yesterday, that fact was classified. I couldn't tell you anything related to my real job or who I really am. I probably told you too much, but I don't regret it, especially now."
His eyes left her face, and he seemed to be meditating on a small, lonely wildflower just in front of him. "So all this time I spent trying to get to know you..."
"Was still worthwhile. I didn't deceive you about everything, just when it came to classified things."
"Then I suppose you've never been to Germany." His voice held a hint of anger... or maybe it was disappointment.
"No, but I wish I could go."
The frustration in his voice grew. "Then, Sarah--and I hope that really is your name--"
"Usually," she admitted quietly.
"--where have you been all the times you went away on business?"
She sighed, knowing this was going to sound loony to him. Why did Tau'ri always have to seem so scared of new, foreign ideas? "I had to go offworld, to other planets. There are too few of us for Vinnet to live here without doing something useful."
"No, just living your own life isn't good enough," he replied sarcastically.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Daivd, the galaxy's a lot more dangerous than anybody's letting on. Earth could be a vacation world, but I've lived here all my life. It's not fair to the other Tok'ra if they're all working their tails off and risking their lives and I'm just sitting here doing nothing."
David sighed. "So living here and building relationships and getting a Masters degree in aerospace engineering and astrophysics all equates to doing nothing?"
The Tok'ra thought about it, then laughed for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it does mean nothing. It's not helping our cause much, though it might eventually help me MacGyver a hyperdrive in the distant future." She shrugged, trying to ignore David's hurt expression. "College is mostly something to pass the time and see if there's anything we know that can help the Tok'ra."
An ackward silence fell about them for a few minutes. Both boarded separate trains of thought while studying the serene environment. Finally, David spoke, carefully watching her reasctions. "If you said anything else, I would believe you in an instant. But how do I know you're really an alien?"
Sarah blinked a couple times. Had she not already explained this? No, he had not heard. Only in times like these did she realize how different the Tok'ra existance was. "You can talk to her if you want. She really does like you."
"What do you mean 'she'? What are you talking about?"
"Sorry, I keep forgetting I have to start from the beginning, wherever that is." She sighed, sorting her thoughts and realizing Vinnet's proposal would have to stay on the back burner for a while yet. "A person only becomes a Tok'ra when he or she physically and mentally blends with a symbiote--a snake-like sentient alien. If you want to, I can ask that alien to talk to you."
David said nothing but nodded, anzious to understand the difference between the woman he wanted to marry and the person with him now. As he watched, Vinnet took over her host's body. She flet overjoyed to finally have an opportunity to speak directly to the man her host--and as a result, Vinnet herself--had fallen in love with. The symbiote confirmed that Sarah's eyes had flashed not only by acknowledging the slight discomfort in her eyes but also by seeing David's reaction. The other Tau'ri's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.
"Do not worry; eye-flashing is perfectly normal among Tok'ra." Vinnet took on a casual demeanor, leaned back slightly, and gazed up at the stars. "From here, you cannot see most of the systems we have visited." Sarah silently cheered as she noticed that Vinnet might again practice her hobby of "Name that System!" The symbiote pointed to one of the brighter stars. "One of the planets around that sun was called Abydos. Sarah nicknamed it Tatooine, though she has never personally been there." David remained quiet, having been quite startled by her strange voice. "One of the dimmer stars in that direction," she continued, swinging her arm around and pointing westward, "is where one of our friends recently died."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"You can help," she insisted, catching the other off-guard. "And possibly spend the next century with Sarah... and me."
He slowly shook his head, still gazing int he direction Vinnet last pointed. "Last week, I would've jumped on that opportunity, but now that you, whoever you are, are here..."
"I have been present since before you met us. Sarah is still fundamentally the same person you have always known. The only differences now are that you know of me and we can tell you more about our life."
"Such as?"
Vinnet shrugged and met his stare. "The man I told you had died was a Tok'ra. His symbiote is still alive and in need of a host."
"What are you suggesting?" he wondered, fairly certain he didn't want to know, but too curious to just let it go.
"I am suggesting that it would be a great relief to both of us if you were to volunteer to be Vandrof's new host."
"I don't think I could do that," he replied, faltering. He shuddered. Although he was not quite sure why, the idea of this "blending" did not evoke warm, fuzzy feelings, especially when the word "host" was added into the deal. "How did Sarah become a, uh, host in the first place?"
Vinnet nodded, accepting that David had less motivation to volunteer than did most of those she had spoke with int he past few years. She retreated again, giving Sarah control of her body. "I hope you understand I still can't tell you everything," the Tau'ri began.
David's head came up quickly. "Sarah?"
She laughed lgihtly. "You'll get used to it, hopefully. Vinnet's going to try to remember that she doesn't have to mask her voice when talking to you."
He shrugged a bit. "O-kay... So how did you become a 'host'?"
Sarah's expression sombered a great deal. "A lot of what happened is still classified, so this isn't going to make too much sense. In eighth grade, I was taken off-world. The people who took me were going to, um, do something unpleasant. My blending with Vinnet prevented them from being able to do that. The Tok'ra High Council wasn't extremely happy about it, but they let us come back so I could finish high school."
"What was it like?"
She shrugged. "Annoying. Vinnet refused to help me with anything. Expecially in biology and chemistry, I knew she could tell me how to do something, but she tried as hard as she could to not give away answers."
He finally smiled a tad; Sarah's tone strongly reminded him of the person he had grown to love. "No, um, what was it like when you two... um..."
"Blended," she finished, sobering from her rant. When she next spoke, her voice was soft, her pacing slow. (So incredibly slow, that it's not going up here.)
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