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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The matron nodded. "It will suffice."

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

*

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please wait outside, Jalali."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And who is Vinnet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded. "We need a healer!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your spirits had better answer to my God."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Get off your soap-box."

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

"Just try."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"it will numb the pain," Jalali insisted.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How many numbers?6
Number?14
Number?2006
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Number?20
Number?06
Number?00
Number?-.1
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Number?-.02
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Number?.2

oceanic_sentry's Xanga Site: "Wednesday, June 14, 2006"

*grins* I feel special. Not because of his pain but because he thinks of me.

Feel lucky. He's nice. But I won't say too much about it, because I know he reads this. ;P

Confluence begins in:

Viel Spass

Here?

Here?

Perhaps here?Kein.Odd.

Just messing around with html.

Quote of the day: Truth depends greatly upon perspective. The varience between two perspectives is enough for each to call the other's truth falsehood.

Your Linguistic Profile::

70% General American English

15% Yankee

5% Dixie

5% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

How You Life Your Life

You have a good sense of self control and hate to show weakness.You're laid back and chill, but sometimes you care too much about what others think.You prefer a variety of friends and tend to change friends quickly.You tend to dream big, but you worry that your dreams aren't attainable.

How Do You Live Your Life?

Your Theme Song is Beautiful Day by U2

"Sky falls, you feel likeIt's a beautiful dayDon't let it get away" You see the beauty in life, especially in ordinary everyday moments.And if you're feeling down, even that seems a little beautiful too.

What's" Your Theme Song?

Word of the day: merg.

So I've got computer access during school again, after I went over my notes for my English presentation today. So I went to dailysudoku.com, figuring it was something of a constructive, school-related activity, especially since some of the teachers have assigned sudokus in math classes. But, no, the idiotic firewall has it blocked under the category of games. Miff!!!

Gtg, just got an idea: google image search for sudokus!!

A CONTINUATION OF THE TWEEN STORY

A day later, Sarah reclined on her bed, reading a new science fiction novel and trying to ignore Vinnet's incessant explanations of the fiction's impossibilities. In the middle of it all, the phone rang, but she ignored it as per the rules of grounding. In the next room over, she heard her mother answer it.

"The Air Force?" she seemed to repeat after the voice on the other end. "What do you want now?"

She listened and replied, "By now you should know by heart every last detail, especially after that Senator Kinsey came to ask her more questions. It's a wonder you don't--"

Silence. "From what I've seen of him, I agree, but that kind of language is unnecessary." It was probably Colonel O'Neill on the phone; few others would have the audacity to use strong language when speaking of a member of Congress.

More silence. "Well, then, I want to listen in. Classified or not, I am her mother, and I want to know what you're saying to my daughter." A short pause. "Yes, I know what classified means but--"

Sighing, Sarah stood and ventured out of her room into her mother's office, where she caught her attention and whispered, "I'll tell you what's going on; just let me talk to him."

The mother reluctantly handed over the phone. "Be quick."

Sarah nodded, and focused on the phone conversation. "What's so important that Mom couldn't take a message?"

"Thank you!" O'Neill breathed. "Tell your mom thank you.

"The High Council called this morning, said they'd need a pair of hosts soon--don't know how they know. It's probably some sort of test."

Setting her head in her hands, Sarah frowned. "They couldn't have picked a worse time."

"They probably conspired with Kinsey to have it work out that way," he replied.

Vinnet surfaced suddenly, allowing Sarah's mother to see the flash of her eyes and O'Neill to hear her modified voice. "The Tok'ra would not sink to such a level!"

The colonel released an exclamation of surprise. "For crying out loud, could you give me some warning before you do that! Is her mom still around?"

"No, she left the room," Vinnet lied, gazing over at the parent.

"In all honesty," she continued, "this may be a good time to take a short leave. Senator Kinsey has caused much trouble here, which may die down with time."

"Someone will pick you and two others up on Saturday," he commented. "If you can't find anyone by then, don't worry about it."

"I will," she promised just as he hung up. She did likewise and turned expectantly back to the mother. The two gazed at each other in an uneasy silence similar to that shared between two strangers who each believe the other is attracted to their significant other.

"You said you'd tell me what's going on," the mother reminded flatly.

Vinnet nnodded slowly and allowed her hoset to speak again. Sarah sighed deeply before beginning. "I did. And it's more complicated than I thought it would be. "

"Colonel O'Neill believes you about this... alien?"

Sarah nodded. "Absolutely. He was only worried that you might've heard."

"Okay." It was good to know that this Air Force Colonel wasn't concerned about her daughter's second personality. "Why did he call?"

"Before we came back, we promised the High Council that we would do something for them. They're ready now."

He mother raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What High Council?"

She bit her tongue, nervously deciding what to say. "The ruling body Vinnet answer to. They're the ones who decided to let us come back."

"With what stipulations?"

"I have to help them continue their existance in the same numbers."

Aware of only one interpretation of the cryptic statement, and oblivious to the fact that Vinnet's species reproduced asexually, her mother started into a panic. "Sarah Elaine, you're too young to do that, and you're already promissed to get married first! I'm not letting you throw...."

The Tok'ra gazed at her, confused. Halfway tino the heard of the speech, she understood where the misunderstanding originated. "Mom," she interrupted loudly, "I said I'd help them keep the same numbers, not more. They don't have kids!"

"Then what in the world are you talking about?"

Sarah hesitated, unsure that her mother would appreciate the real answer any more than she had the misinterpretation of it... or any more than Kinsey had when he'd heard. "They need.... um..."

"Spit it out already!"

"Hosts," she finished reluctantly. "They can't survive long outside of humans, and when their hosts get old, they need new hosts."

The mother frowned deeply and came into the room to sit on her office chair. "Is that... sanitary?"

"Yes, Mom. They're clean enough not to overwhelm the combined immune system. But that's not the point."

As you know, I come on here most reliably at the end of the school year, on the random days when I have absolutely nothing to do and access to a computer. Two periods and lunch ago, I finished my last final this year....

FROH!!!
HAPPINESS!!!

Anyhow...

How 'bout a random update on life, the universe, and everything?

At the moment, most people in my class are reading something, though there's a cluster of spoons-players across the room from the back corner where this computer is. I was working on Legacy, but I decided to come back here and check my grades. Despite the sudden windfall of good luck concerning my history and English grades, my finals brought them back down to solid yet high Bs. There's still a little hope for English, though; I got five bonus points for buying the literary magazine. Dunno if she's put it in yet.

As for other things... Most of you know how much of an anti-conformist I am, so you could hardly know how much it pains me to admit this, but... I got a boyfriend. He's sweet, too, writes me poetry, compliments me... I'm not sure he doesn't deserve someone who knows him better than I do, so we'll see what happens. It's a long distance relationship, and I'm not sure our summers are going to be clear enough to get together any time at all, and once we go to college... Well, he's thinking Duke in North Carolina, and I'm hoping I might be able to get a bunch of scholarships and go to MIT... (Pardon my redundancy in saying "Duke in NC," but I get Duke confused with Duquesne in Pennsylvania.) So... This is all in God's hands.

Oh, Ted's doing well now. The swelling on his face is almost gone, thanks to the vet pulling the offending tooth and the subsequent use of Clavamox. Now if he can just manage not to tick off any birds.... Oh, right, didn't I say? Yesterday, he was out in the yard and chased a young bird to the fence, where the bird escaped into the neighbor's yard. But that managed to tick off a quarter of a flock, and they dove after him for a couple minutes. He seem all right. Extra proud of his bravery, if anything.

Still not progress on the Announcement. Miff. I stink at anything that relates to romance. Why didn't I wait ten years before writing this plotline?

But I've been thinking about Legacy since I ran out of books to read and couldn't get caught up in Childhood's End by Arthur C. Clarke. I tried to figure out the plot, but I can't get it to fit on one piece of paper. Especially once I try to figure out the alternate plots, which should thoroughly frustrate people. Maybe I'll post some of it later, some of the alternate, even though people won't have a clue what's going on.

I love typing.

It's fun.

It's fun to type at a "normal" speed and have people look over and say "That's crazy! How can you type that fast?" Of course, I've only been around computers since I was five... Behold the myriad benefits of having computer programmers as parents. Not that that year of being absolutely obsessed with the internet and everything in it didn't help my typing....

Hey, by the way, people, GOD IS AWESOME! Just though I'd say. You know, in case I hadn't mentioned that before. Songs of the day: "Undefeated" by Audio A; "All Around Me" by Audio A; "Get Down" by Relient K; and the edition of "Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher" by Audio A. There's nothing better than listening to Christian rock for an hour and a half before really having to face people in the morning; you get all pumped up and close to God and then see the people who don't know much at all about you and don't care to. It's a lot easier to be a Christian when you're in touch with God. Yup. I would be the one who wrote "Paster Don: 'As long as there are math tests, there will be prayer in school'" on my cheat sheet (legal) for my math final, which went very well, thank you.

Speaking of finals, my health teacher stopped by the gym this morning and told me I was the first one to score 100% on the health final in years. I hardly studied for that; I just fleetingly glanced at my notes and did the homework that was due and made educated guesses on the multiple choice and matching.

Thank you, God, for regular, non-honors classes!!! That's the light point in the day.

Okay, I should get going. Legacy isn't really calling, but I should work on either that or the Announcement.

Studying for stats, I decided to use ff.net stats for practice problems, and I want to share my findings, which really annoy me. It appears that the number of hits explains only 12% of the reviews in the Announcement, though overall, on my account, it accounted for 48%. Miff. I thought people were nicer than that. It also appears that, overall, only 2% of hits on a story result in a review. That's pitiful!!!

My meager two percent.... the faithful.... thank you.

I know I haven't gotten on in a long while, and I know some people, at least, read this. Frankly, I think I'd prefer that only people I know would read it, but c'est la vie.

Where to begin after so long, for those of you who might actually care about my life?

I just got asked to prom last night, and I never expected it. Unfortunately, it's in another state, and I'm not sure my parents will let me go yet. Of course, I'll have to finish my English essay before then, because it's due the Monday after and I'm taking the SATs on the same day as the prom. That ought to be fun. "Here, let's wear myself out with a big honkin' test and then go party the night away like I never thought I would before." Seriously, I doubted anyone would ask me to my own prom (and no one probably will), let alone someone else's. But he broke up with his girlfriend recently and really wants me to go with him. I'm... astonished. Maybe this could kick-start a writing spree on the Announcement, if only I weren't completely sleep-deprived, which is why I'm typing on here: I can think of nothing else I have the energy to do, which has been my chief reason for avoiding computer time in the last year.

Anyway, out of energy on that subject. There's not much to say yet.

School. Is. Wretched. Or, rather, inane. Yes, there's a good word for you.

Gym. What's the deal with assigning homework in gym? It's a physical class, for crying out loud; there's no place for homework! I'd rather just go out and play catch afterschool if we have to do something outside of class. *evil glare at teacher*

Statistics. Boring. Confusing. Take your pick. The teacher's great, really, but after a while, it's just too much of a routine. And what's the deal with having ten different ways to get an answer for whether or not a claim is correct? On the other hand, it could help me with my senior project, especially now that I've got a crusade to go on. (More on that later.)

History. As usual, can't stand it. It's too much work for people who're dead or forgotten by now. It'd work better if it just covered the notes and we could all listen without the threat of a test. Basically, history isn't worth an hour, let alone forty minutes a day.

English. Finally, the English assignment I've always wanted, and just at the point in the year where I want to just ignore school. My essay's supposed to be a literary critique on The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it so far. Finally, science fiction is recognized as acceptable fodder for high school English classes! I have hope yet! And if/when I'm an English teacher, my students will so be reading Mara Jade's fan fiction and identifying all the wonderful rhetoric she uses.

German. I abhor Wochenende! I hate going in on every Montag morning and having to talk about my weekend. Ninety percent of the time, I don't do anything interesting or anything I ever want to talk about. The other ten percent, I don't know how to express it in German, and I don't care enough to share it in English. They don't need to know what's going on in my life. I'd just as soon post everything on the Internet... sooner, in fact, as is evidenced by this post!

Physics. Still sick of the teacher, just like everyone else. His teaching style isn't as bad as last semester, but it's still getting more tedious, nerve-wracking, and generally ridiculous as the year progresses. I was an idiot to sign up for AP Physics next year and to consider it as a career. But basically, I don't know what I want, and no one wants to give me a direction.

Health. For as horrible of a concept as it was, the teacher makes health a surprisingly okay class. There's a bunch of characters in that room, just as there are in German, and when combined with the teacher (not the student teacher, mind you; she's pretty bad), it makes for a pretty entertaining blow-off class. Of course, I don't listen hard to any of the self-improving advice given; like others, I feel incredibly good about myself and don't think I need to improve myself on that front. Just try to prove me wrong.

So my crusade, since I know you're all sitting on the edge of your seats. They cut the funding for the arts at my school... I think. That's what I've heard. So. I'm ticked. They have enough money to put stinkin' astroturf on the field and to give it traction with itty bitty pieces of tires. But, no, they can't fund the arts, which force kids to learn discipline and often give them motivation for going to school. And not only that, but apparently, they're also discouraging kids from taking band or art. What the hey?! You can learn so much more from those classes--more practical things--than you can in health (ooh, yes, condoms are more important than pianos or graphic design... not). Do they have any idea how important graphic design is to our culture? If all the graphic designers suddenly died, our world would basically fall apart. People wouldn't be as subject to impulse buying, suddenly, which would probably send the economy into recession. Oh, yeah, we need economists but not graphic designers? And they keep saying that we need to be creative, but they're cutting the legs from under the programs that stimulate and encourage creativity!! We need the arts. I'm not even an artist--I play two instruments about once every three months, I only do cover art, and it's not professional at all, I can't do much of anything in front of people--but even I know the arts are extremely important. I'm a writer, and though it's part of the English department, technically, it's very closely related to the arts. It requires thought, hard work, and creativity, just like any other art form. They have no basis for reducing the art program, not even their precious standardized testing crap. (And those of you who know me know how very rarely I use that word. But it applies here.)

The STC's, as I shall now refer to them, carefully hiding the true name of the test, do nothing for us students. And isn't that what education is about? If you need to measure a student's progress in school, don't you DARE take the time out from the student's learning to do it. I like AP English. It's one of the top two English classes I've ever taken, by a far margin. What do the state and school board think they're doing, depriving me of the class I earned the opportunity to take? If they're trying to get me to learn, how dare they make me learn less just to see if I have, in fact, learned anything? The same applies to math. CHS Stats is one of my favorite classes. Why, then, did I have to put my learning and understanding on hold just to show the state/school board that I learned something last year? Those contradictory, uncaring bureaucrats!

Okay, rant over. Probably. What else?

Oh, there's a foreign exchange student over, the main reason for me being on even less than normal. She's been here for three weeks, but she's going home Wednesday. We get along okay, but we're not best friends or anything. It's been tough, for both of us. At first, they (she and her mother) preferred convenience over the custody arrangement, which would never fly, especially for me. I'm not going to throw a boulder into a calm swimmingpool just to make a stepping stone to the other side. I'll swim--it might be wet, but it leaves smaller ripples. Well, we've got small ripples now, though it's been hard to put up with the crowded bus for a week at a time. Then she had a problem with my church, or my youth group, it's hard to tell which. So now we're comfortably speaking about a hundred words per day to each other. It's frustrating, but I'm glad for the experience... and I'll never do it again. I say again: I'm greatful for this opportunity. And I'm living alone or with only family until college; Mom is not allowed to adopt until I'm out of the house.

*sigh* I miss my dog. I haven't seen him since Sunday. He's the cutest dog on the planet, and he loves me as much as my parents do, and they're my best friends.

Which reminds me. My best friend my age is sitting on a steel fense the width of a razor blade. Her parents want to move back to California by next year, but she's got only one more year in school. They keep setting deadlines for the house to sell or for her dad to get a job there and then setting them back when they're not met. It's horribly frustating for all of us. But then, I guess she was doomed to move back as soon as she met me--it happens to all my best friends. But maybe just this once for just one more year it won't. We'll all be leaving after that. And her parents say it's because of her mom's asthema (which was only better there because they keep going to smoke-filled restaraunts here and the humidity's higher), and the better job opportunities (which was why they moved here), and the better school (they don't want her to be stressed out next year, even though our school here is actually better), and the better church (if they'd stop comparing every church to their home church, they'd see that we have very good churches here; they just need to get involved). And to top it all off, they say they don't have any friends; their friends here stopped talking to them. But the thing is, there are hundreds of people here who would gladly be their friends and adopt them into a community of fellowship if only they'd let themselves meet them!!! I know plenty of awesome people their age! And, look, it took me six years to know them. But now I'd rather not leave the church because they're so cool.

*sigh* People annoy me. My muse annoys me. I annoy me.

I'll go take a shower.

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."

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?

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.

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?)

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

PICTURES!

Meet an author! You know, Alpha was the first time I ever got to meet anyone who had published something? I think... Well, Dad keeps saying he's a published author, but technical articles don't count. Really, they shouldn't.
Ha! Crazy people going to Alpha!

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.

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.

Quote of the day:

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.

Don't say science ruins the awe one feels for God when seeing His creation! Don't say explanations of how and why ruin His miracles! It doesn't have to; it is one's choice to allow it to do so.

Scientific explanations can further feed that awe and wonder. There are 114 or so elements

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!

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?

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."

(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.

(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.

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.

"'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.

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?