Monday, October 11, 2004

A 'Tween Story
( Symbiote's thoughts )


The most annoying thing about being a Tok'ra at her age, Sarah decided, was that Vinnet refused to help with homework. She knew so many of the answers, and yet, she wouldn't just tell them to Sarah. Well, the girl could access anything Vinnet knew, but if the Tok'ra had to figure it out, Sarah couldn't just tap into it. She stared down again at the English homework, one of the few things that Vinnet couldn't do quicker than her host.

About half-way through the worksheet, the doorbell rang. Sarah leaped up and pulled open the front door, which had barely aged since they'd gotten it a couple months before. She was quite surprised to find an older man in a suit and tie standing on the other side.

"Can I help you?" she asked cautiously, trying to keep the door between her and him as much as possible, mostly to keep her dogs from escaping.

"Yes, you can," replied the man. His smile definitely gave Sarah a bad feeling. "Are you Sarah Anderson?"

She started. How did he knew her name? And why? "Should I know you?"

His grin faltered with the unintended insult to his pride. "I'm Senator Robert Kinsey."

"You know, I'm too young to vote, even in the next election, and my mom's not home right now, so you can't talk to her."

Kinsey nodded. "That's okay. I'm actually here to see you."

(opening credits.... :D )

Sarah swung the door open a bit more, allowing a short, spirited dog to leap at the screen door. Surprised, Kinsey took a defensive step back. The Tok'ra smiled sweetly. "Sorry about that. Ted gets excited when we have visitors." She stared at the car in the driveway, a black Cadillac SUV. "Should I be worried that a Senator's come knocking at my door?"

He laughed lightly. "No, not at all. May I come in?"

"No."

The smile dropped off his face. "Please, I need to speak to you about a matter of grave importance."

"Front door's as good a place as any. We're already speaking, so speak up." At this point, she bent down to pick up her dog, who set his chin on her shoulder.

Kinsey's eyes narrowed. "You don't understand. This is very important. We should talk about it inside."

Sarah smiled again, checking to make sure the screen door was locked. "No, you don't understand. I don't know you, so you're not coming in. If you try, my dogs might become rather agitated."

"Are you threatening a senator?"

She thought a moment, playing the words back in her head. "You know what, I guess I am. But you see, the dogs get riled when any strange person comes in, especially if they sense that I don't particularly like them, so you might as well give if up and say whatever you're gonna say here and now before I close the door. 'Cause for all I know, you're some psychopath from downtown."

Kinsey was not amused. "Fine," he snapped. "Tell me about your recent experience with the Goa'uld."

Sarah stared for a moment. No one was supposed to know about that. "The what?"

The senator squirmed a bit, not completely sure this was the right house. "The Goa'uld. The Stargate. Any of it."

Sarah shrugged, which was a little difficult with a good thirty-pound dog in her arms. "See? I knew you were some psychopath from downtown." As she finished, she bit her tongue. Mouthing off to a member of one of your government's ruling bodies wasn't a federal offense, right? Right?

Kinsey glared for a few seconds then began to turn back to his car. "I'm not done with you yet," he snarled before walking away.

*--*--*

The next afternoon, the phone rang. "Hello?" Sarah answered.

"Hel-lo, Sarah," came Colonel O'Neill's perky voice from the other end. "How are you?"

"Pretty good," she replied. "Uh, Jack, some guy showed up at my door yesterday. He asked me to tell him about Goa'uld and the--"

"Yeah, about that," Jack interrupted, not really willing to speak about top-secret stuff like that over the phone. "Kinsey got the president to order us to tell you to cooperate with him."

Sarah stared. "You know how much trouble I could get in with my mom?"

"The president, Sarah."

"So what? I didn't vote for him! He's just some guy I don't know who just happens to be our Commander in Chief." She sighed. "But I guess I see what you're saying. This senator guy, does he know about... all that?"

"Yup," Jack answered. "Every detail he can get his slimy little hands into."

"All right. But I'm not going out of my way for this."

"That's fine."

An hour later, the doorbell rang again. Having a pretty good idea of who it was, Sarah took her time getting there, but she made certain that both dogs were inside and on the main level of the house. Finally, she opened the door.

"Hello, Miss Anderson. May I come in?" Kinsey questioned.

"Na'nai," the Tok'ra answered, but she reluctantly held open the door, leaving the senator to get the screen door himself. The man grinned and entered the house, only to be greeted by a chorus of barking and two dogs running up to him. He finally made his way over to the furniture, where he sat down, vaguely aware that his black suit was now covered in white fur.

Sarah plopped down into a chair opposite Kinsey's position on the couch. "What do you want?"

"No respect for elders," Kinsey grumbled under his breath.

"No," Sarah corrected, "no respect for people who insist on barging into my house uninvited. Like you."

His eyes narrowed; she wasn't supposed to have heard that. "Tell me about your experiences with the Goa'uld," he demanded.

"Sure," she replied somewhat sarcastically. "How long ago do you want me to begin?"

"Your experiences."

She nodded. "I had this dream last night..."

"The Goa'uld, not your dreams!"

"It's a memory," Sarah continued, unfazed by his interruption. "I was thrown down to my knees in front of Ra."

"Ra is dead. Tell me about Baneb... Baneb..."

"Fine," she said, sounding a bit miffed. "He's about five foot six, not all that thin, fairly light complexion..."

"No!" Kinsey yelled. "The president told you to cooperate."

Sarah shrugged. "I know. And I really don't care." Then she grinned. "I'm an obstinate little teenager, remember?"

Kinsey frowned. "Just tell me what I want to know and I'll leave."

"Well, what do you want?" Kinsey opened his mouth, but she continued. "I've got chocolate milk, lemonade, a few sodas downstairs, old orange juice, water..."

His frown grew deeper. "You are a Tok'ra, correct?"

Sarah decided that this was fun, provided it wasn't a capital offense, so she pretended to take offense to the question. "I'm a person, thank you very much! Are you a Tok'ra?"

"Are you a Tok'ra?" he repeated, less than amused.

"What, you can't sense the naquada in my blood?"

"No," he answered shortly. "May I please speak to... what was its name... Vanet?"

Sarah stared for a moment. "Vinnet doesn't particularly want to speak to you. She says that from what she's seen of Earth politics, it would put a mark on her honor to do you the favor of speaking directly to her. But if you give me a minute, I'll see if I can convince her that every human had the potiential to be a good person at some point or another."

Kinsey scowled. There was no other way to put it; he just scowled, but sat quietly, staring at the Tok'ra girl, who stared right back. Finally, she nodded once before her eyes flashed. (Sarah had made certain to have her eyes fully open and visible to the senator.) Kinsey's eyes narrowed, but he didn't flinch.

"I assure you, Senator, my host was exaggerating. She has no appreciation for your visit, and so is attempting to take it out on you."

"I understand, Vonet."

The Tok'ra's eyes flashed again. "My name is Vinnet of Iechnor."

"Yes, of course. So can you tell me what happened on this Setite?"

"I suppose," she answered flatly. "What happened was that I finally took a new host after three months."

"Three months?" Kinsey repeated calmly. "How did you survive that long?"

"We have methods. Needless to say, they are not pleasant and are considered especially... boring."

"I see. Why did you take this young lady as a host?"

"Senator, I had very little choice in the matter. I could risk exposing my identity and sending this girl to die or I could take her as a host. Which would you prefer?"

"At the moment?"

"At the moment, I am especially pleased with Selmak's decision."

"Selmak?" Kinsey repeated. "As in Jacob Carter?"

"Yes."

"He chose this young lady as your host?"

"In a manner of speaking. I do not regret leaving it to him."

The senator shook his head, getting back to business. "What kind of technology does Banebdjedet have?"

Vinnet shrugged. "I am unsure. Our objectives were to dispatch his queen and kindle enmity between his Jaffa and that of Nephthys. I was also to take a host. Nothing about that included any particular attention to the technology he had at hand."

"I see."

"So how do you intend to use that knowledge?"

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "What technology did you notice while there?"

Vinnet rolled her eyes then sat forward in her chair. "Considering I was confined to a tank for my survival until I took a host, Sarah can probably tell you more." With that, she dipped her host's head, allowing her to speak. When he saw this, Kinsey groaned.

Sarah looked up toward the ceiling. "Lesse. When they walked into my house, they had staff weapons. Getting off the ship, they had staff weapons. Taking me to blend, they had staff weapons. When Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter beat them up, they had staff weapons. So I think we could safely say that Banebdjedet's Jaffa have staff weapons."

"What else did you see?" Kinsey grumbled.

"Well, I suppose they also had sliding doors and artificial lights. Obviously some way to build bases and the like. If he's a typical Goa'uld, he'd have a hand device and a sarcophagus, although that might have been too expensive for him, considering what politicians have done to drop medicare for elder Goa'ulds..."

"You can stop there," the senator announced. "I don't appreciate your responses. The President of the United States of America asked you to cooperate with me."

"Yes, I suppose he did," Sarah replied. "Come to think of it, I think I actually heard of you before." The representative sat up straighter in his seat. "Jack mentioned you. He said you thought the Goa'uld wouldn't pose a threat to Earth because God would protect us. (I only slightly disagree with you there.) So, as a God-fearing man, you'll understand that obeying my parents weighs heavier than obeying the president. I'm only doing you this favor because Jack asked it as well, and he's my friend."

Just then, the two heard the front door opening. Sarah sighed, trying to prepare herself for any trouble she might get in. As she expected, her mother entered the house, immediately turning toward the living room. "Sarah!" she scolded. "Who is this? Why--"

The senator stood, now appearing more respectful than he usually did. "Ms. Anderson, I'm Senator Robert Kinsey. I'm here to speak to--"

"Sarah, why in the world did you let him in here? You don't know who he is!" she continued, her voice now beginning to convey anger.

"Mom," she replied, wondering how she could explain herself. "Colonel O'Neill called--remember him from a couple months ago? He said the--"

"Ms. Anderson," Kinsey interrupted, "I've been sent here to ask your daughter a few questions about that incident."

The mother sent a warning glare to her daughter then sat beside her. "Then continue."

Sarah shot a glance to Kinsey, at once glad that they could no longer discuss her trip truthfully and disappointed that she would no longer be able to taunt him with snippets of details. "Go ahead, Senator. I'll try to answer your questions as fully and as truthfully as I can."

He glowered briefly. "Ms. Anderson, what we have to discuss is classified. I'm afraid I'll have to ask that you leave the room."

"No. I will hear whatever you have to say to my daughter."

Sarah sighed. "Mom, he's right. It's classified for a reason."

"You know about it."

She closed her eyes, exasperated, knowing that the sooner the pain in the mikta had his answers, the sooner he could get out of her house. "A lot had to happen for me to come back," she replied, speaking truthfully. "And a lot of people aren't too happy about it."

"Then tell me."

Sarah dropped her head into her hands, trying to make the well-practiced Tok'ra motion look normal. To Kinsey's dismay, her voice still sounded normal when she spoke. "I'll ask Jack later if I can tell you what we're talking about, but because of certain nay-sayers," she commented, glancing pointedly to the senator, "I don't know if I'll be able to tell you."

The mother glanced to Kinsey, in his perfect suit and cocky manner. "Get out before I call the police."

He put on his usual arrogant smile. "Ms. Anderson, I am an elected official of the United States. There's no reason to call the police."

"I don't care if you're the president. Get out of my house," she insisted, standing again.

He glanced from her to the Tok'ra and to even the dogs then hurried back to his car, the Tok'ra's mother locking the door behind him.

"Don't you ever do that again! Inviting someone into the house while I'm gone! What were you thinking?"

Vinnet sighed, then spoke, careful to keep her voice sounding normal. "Senator Kinsey doesn't pose a threat to us." *Not physically, anyway.* "I've heard of him. The president asked Colonel O'Neill to tell me to talk to him."

"You don't know that that's true," she replied. "Mr. O'Neill could just be saying that."

"He wouldn't. He doesn't particularly like Kinsey."

"And that doesn't throw up a red flag in your mind?"

"No. It doesn't," Vinnet replied honestly, wishing she could provide her reasoning.

"Sarah, go to your room."

The Tok'ra nodded slightly then headed up the stairs to her room, where she closed the door and stared at the portable phone on her now-computer-less desk.

Vinnet, I can deal with you mouthing off to my mother and all, but seriously, I don't know if I want to risk her catching us talking to anyone after coming home to Kinsey in the house.

*I suppose that would not benefit the situation.*

Ya think?

*How do you suggest we resolve it?*

You know the past as well as I do. The best thing to do is exactly what she asks without comment or complaint.

*Senator Kinsey will most likely return. How do you suggest dealing with him?*

In the event she doesn't ground us for your mouthing off to her, we could always bring Lauren and meet up with him at some coffee shop. Then he'll have to hide a lot of his exasperation and keep his voice down. For now, though, we might as well write a letter or something, do homework. Keep occupied.

*Communication counts as keeping one occupied.*

I knew you were going to say that. Sarah sighed, yoinking control from her newfound friend and lying back on her bed.

* * *

About ten minutes later, Vinnet, again in control, heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she called after a second, still unused to the idea of doors.

Sarah’s mother entered and sat on the edge of her bed. "You understand that I worry about you, that I trust you not to let any strangers in."

"I have betrayed that trust," Vinnet replied, feeling a pang of guilt for destroying something her host had apparently worked so hard for.

The other nodded, her expression confused. "You couldn’t have thought about that before you let him in?"

*Now I understand why Colonel O’Neill was so firm in his dislike of that politician.* "It did not come to my mind," she lied, careful to stick with singular pronouns. "When a senator showed up at the door, I was too surprised to think about the consequences." The good news is, Sarah thought sarcastically, your frankness will either annoy her or comfort her. *Your faith and certainty in the outcome is overwhelming.*

"Next time, think about them."

"I will," the Tok’ra promised.

The conversation halted for a couple seconds before Sarah’s mother again spoke. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine," Vinnet replied warily. *Will she always be this astute?* Nah, if you talk to her often enough, she’ll figure something about "being caught hacking databases" changed me. *She’ll be right.* …True.

"So what did you and the senator talk about before I got home?"

She shrugged. "What I saw on the databases, what the people at the Air Force were like, how they treated me," she lied, resisting the urge to add that he asked about the base’s menu.

"Sarah," she began, staring at her daughter’s face. "Why did you do it?"

"The hacking?" Vinnet guessed, her question confirmed by the mother’s silent nod. I didn’t! Sarah replied in her thoughts, These Jaffa minions barged into our house, and they took me on their ship. I couldn’t help it! I wouldn’t ‘ve gone if I’d had a choice, ‘course then I wouldn’t have become a Tok’ra… Maybe I would have gone anyway if I knew that’d happen… "I couldn’t help it," the symbiote continued, echoing her host’s words. "I was bored."

"I thought I’d taught you better."

"You did, Mom," Vinnet replied, again using her host’s words. "I just didn’t listen."

The older human shook her head, ending the conversation. "Listen, you’re grounded. That means no visiting with friends, no phone calls, and you don’t talk to that Kinsey fellow again."

"Yes, ma’am," the symbiote replied, careful to keep her tone from being offensive, just as her host instructed. Sarah’s mother left, closing the door behind her.

No! Sarah thought to her "soul mate." Don’t even think about it! If this is what she does for talking to Kinsey, I don’t even want to think about what she’d do if she caught you. Please, I mean…

*If you don’t want to risk him returning here, we’re going to have to do something.*

Vinnet, are you even listening? What if—

*Don’t worry. I’ve had plenty of experience being discreet.*

Yeah? That’s nice. What are you going to arrange?

*You’ll see.*
After checking the hall to make sure her host’s mother had returned to the main level, Vinnet picked up the phone and dialed the number for the SGC. A few seconds later, she heard a familiar voice on the other side. "I need Kinsey’s phone number to prevent him from doing something rash…"

* * *

The next day, Sarah and Lauren sat alone at a corner table in the lunch room, which was within a few feet of a door to the outside. It was the beginning of the last lunch of the day, a time when the cafeteria was overly noisy and anyone who didn’t belong wouldn’t be recognized.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lauren wondered. "From what you tell me, this guy’s a real jerk."

Sarah shrugged. "Vinnet’s got a point. With me being grounded, it wouldn’t make much sense for him to try to come to my house again. Nor could I meet him anywhere else. This isn’t exactly the kind of thing you can talk about over the phone, either."

"Here he comes," she noted, motioning to a well-dressed old-ish man walking across the parking lot. "Want me to lock the doors?"

Sarah smiled. "Nah, just let him in so we can get it over with." After Lauren did so, the two found seats at the table with Kinsey two chairs to the left of Sarah and Lauren on the Tok’ra’s right.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly.

"Her friend, Lauren Krege," she replied.

He turned to Sarah. "You told her?!"

The Tok’ra rolled her eyes. "Look, she went with me, so she already knows everything. Now, we figured you wanted something else. Speak now before I’m supposed to leave for health class."

He glanced from one teenager to the other. "Was this necessary?"

"Yes; because of you and Vinnet’s unfamiliarity with the workings of my family, we’re grounded. Which means I shouldn’t be talking to you. But you made it clear you’d turn out to be a real Goa’uld about the whole thing, so we’re sitting in a loud room trying to settle it." She took a deep breath. "Now what do you want?"

"Tell me about your experiences with the Goa’uld," he demanded, not looking particularly happy about being the only one not eating at the lunch table.

"Look, I hear you’re high-up on the get-what-you-want chain. Why don’t you just get your hands on a copy of the mission report?"

"You didn’t write one."

Lauren rolled her eyes, butting into the conversation. "Look, whoever you are, we didn’t see any Goa’uld. We saw Jaffa, lots of stoic Jaffa who did exactly what their higher-ups told them to do."

"Fine," Kinsey snorted, looking back at Sarah. "Why are you here?"

"What?" Sarah exclaimed. "It’s my school. I’m here because I can’t drop out until I’m sixteen, though I won’t then either. Or, if you’d rather, I’m here because it’s my scheduled time to have lunch. I’m here because I’m not sick. I’m here because I don’t have any classes. Why?"

"No, why are you, as a Tok’ra, here on Earth?"

"Oh." She glanced at her friend then allowed her symbiote to surface.

"We are here, in part, because Sarah is so young," Vinnet answered, keeping her voice low, but not making the effort to modify it. "Goa’uld do not generally take children as hosts, so Sarah and I cannot go on a mission for the Tok’ra. As for why we are not at the base, I’ll tell you the truth: we need hosts. Earth is a prime resource to retrieve some."

"Hosts?!" repeated Kinsey. "You won’t have a single host from this country if I have anything to do with it!"

"Settle down and keep your voice low," ordered Vinnet. "If the teachers notice you, life will not be so easy. As for your assertions that we’ll have no hosts, that is not up to you."

"I have ways of making sure you don’t harm the population of this grand country."

"We won’t ‘harm’ anyone here, Senator, nor will we take anyone against his or her will. But if you’ll remember, the promise of hosts was one of the main reasons why we decided to become your allies in the first place."

"We don’t need you as allies," he replied, narrowing his eyes.

Vinnet sighed. "So you say, but you have very little idea of how much we’ve done for you."

"Oh?!" he replied. "Perhaps you don’t realize how much we’ve done for you!"

Vinnet retreated, allowing her host to speak. "Alright, so most people at this point have determined that bickering like this is pretty pointless. Both parties have done a lot for each other. It’s a rewarding alliance. Now what’d’ya say we get on with our lives?"

"Fine. Are there any other reasons why you’re here?"

"Sure," Sarah replied. "Vinnet wanted her own way. I thought it’d be cool to stay at the Tok’ra base, but she was curious about our culture. Not to mention that she thought I didn’t know enough science and math to really be able to contribute."

"Hosts from other places know more?" Lauren wondered.

The Tok’ra shook her head. "No, but she wanted to see if we knew anything that could help them. That and she wanted me to know as much as possible on my own."

"Enough. So curiosity is why we’re letting an alien loose on Earth," he concluded.

"You son of a Goa’uld!" Sarah shouted, her voice just barely above the constant noise level. "Jack said you probably had a purpose in mind when coming here. I should’ve listened. All this just so you can have ammunition to get me off Earth? You self-righteous Ha’shak! You’re all into protecting Americans! I’m an American citizen, too, if you haven’t noticed! Whether Vinnet is or isn’t, I’m still here, and I’m still the one talking most of the time!"

Lauren leaned back, a little shocked by her friend’s sudden rage.

Kinsey began to stand up, but thought better of it. "I will do whatever needs to be done to ensure the safety of the other Americans. It’s no different from sending a murderer to prison."

"Except that I haven’t done anything. The only thing people think I’ve done to break the law is hacking into Air Force computers, and wouldn’t ya know it, I never did such a thing. The next closest thing was probably not picking up after my dog when I took him on a walk. Oh, yeah, let’s just lock up all—"


Her eyes flashed, and all involved parties were grateful she’d chosen to sit with her back to the rest of the crowded room. "Your accusations are premature, Senator. You don’t know that we are any threat to you."

"I know enough to know that you’re only going to be trouble," he replied.

Lauren rolled her eyes, then glanced behind her to see an approaching teacher. "Excuse me, but we’ve got another problem."

Vinnet and Kinsey caught sight of the teacher. "Mr. Kinsey, as much as you may dislike it, it might benefit you to act as Lauren’s or my parent."

He shook his head, sent one last glare to the girls then stormed away toward the school’s main entrance, quickly passing the teacher. When she arrived at the table, she glanced over the two students. "What’s going on here?"

"My step-dad just stopped by to pick up my brother," Lauren explained, giving Vinnet time to switch back to Sarah. "He was mad I didn’t have him ready to go this morning."

The teacher nodded then continued walking through the room.

"Sarah," Lauren began, "you think he’s done annoying you yet?"

She shook her head. "All I know is that I’m not done with him yet. The very suggestion that Vinnet’s evil or that she’s come to, I don’t know, terrorize people—it’s absurd! I doubt he knows the difference between Goa’uld and Tok’ra, so that’s my mission."

"Wait, you’re going to try to convince Kinsey that Tok’ra aren’t evil? Good luck!"

Sarah grinned. "Yup. Thanks."

* * *

Sarah and Vinnet sat on the bed in Sarah’s room, reading a magazine on Ancient Egypt. Or at least, pretending to.

When are you going to start working on your master plan?

As soon as I get an idea.

Of course. It won’t work, though. You were fairly accurate at lunch when you called him a son of a Goa’uld. You were off by only one generation.

Sarah grinned. True. There’s just that little problem of not sensing any naquadah in him.

Perhaps he hides it; he’s definitely no harcesis.

This brought another grin to Sarah’s face. Maybe the parent Goa’ulds were as stupid as he is.

"Sarah!" her mother repeated, standing in the doorway. The Tok’ra looked up expectantly. "I need to talk to you. Will you come downstairs?"

A weight settled in the pit of the Tok’ra’s stomach; all cheer and merriment evaporated. "Sure," she replied, dropping the magazine and hurrying down the stairs after her mother. Once on the main floor, they sat on opposite ends of the couch.

"It’s been two months," her mother began, "and you still haven’t told me what happened with the Air Force."

Sarah sighed. She doesn’t believe me. I hate keeping secrets. No; to tell her would betray the trust the SGC and Tok’ra have invested in you. She won’t believe me. "I was abducted by aliens. They messed with my head. The Air Force brought me back to Earth."

"Sarah," she replied, warning in her tone, "don’t lie to me. Just tell me the truth."

"What do you want me to say?" she snapped. "That I regret my part in what happened? That I’d do it differently?"

"Just tell me what happened?"

"Fine, I’ll tell you what they told me I could tell you—again."

"No, tell me what really happened, not what they told you."

So if I really tell her, the SGC, the Tok’ra, and Banebdjedet are all going to want to slap me upside the head, right? Or something similar. She thought briefly of Jack and Sam, even Jacob, all of whom trusted her to keep the secret. "I can’t. I’ve promised them. I love you a lot, but… While I was there… It could have turned out so much worse!"

"It still may turn out worse if you don’t tell me."

Stick to the cover. Throw details in. I won’t let you say too much. Sarah rolled her eyes, belatedly realizing her mother would see. Have to get used to that… "Fine. I was upstairs, on my computer. They rang the doorbell. I looked outside to see who it was, and when I saw, I didn’t want to answer the door. So I didn’t. And they came in."

"The door was burned."

Why didn’t they ever come up with a good explanation for that? Curse Jaffa. They can not make anything easy. "It was?" Yes, feigned innocence might work, but I don’t know that that will work. "I didn’t see," she replied truthfully, though she knew full well that it had been hit with several staff weapon blasts. "Anyway, when they came in and saw me at my computer, they paused for a couple seconds then told me I had to go with them…"

"I’m having a hard time believing you," her mother admitted. "You don’t sound like you’re telling the truth."

Maybe because I’m not? You can’t tell her, Vinnet warned. Too much is at stake. Suppose she were to find out then confided in one close friend, who confided in one or two close friends? While that wouldn’t be our problem, it doesn’t disprove what Kinsey was saying. "Tough; I am," Sarah replied after listening to Vinnet.

"Then why do you take so long to answer? How come it almost always takes so long to get your attention?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and sat back against the couch. "I think too much. And then I get really caught up in thinking." True…

She shook her head. "Well, if you don’t want to answer me truthfully, I guess you’re going to be grounded for a long time."

"I guess so."

* * *

Sarah picked at her cereal, not really hungry but obliged to eat since lunch wasn’t until noon.
You’re going to have to talk to her sometime. The enmity between you two cannot continue for the next four years.
"Really?" the host whispered sarcastically. "I would’ve never guessed." What would you want me to do, anyway?

Working on your cover story might help.

"You’re the one sitting in my head all day and refusing to help me with schoolwork. You think of something." I wouldn’t have to think of anything if we hadn’t blended in the first place.

Do you think I’m not aware of that?

"No. I’m sorry," she replied, really meaning it. "I’m just…"

I know, remember? You noticed the emotion-sharing the first day.

Sarah smiled slightly. "Will you, though?"

Yes, I will. Unless there’s something particularly interesting in science class.

"Will I what?" a voice behind Sarah asked.

She spun around in her chair. "Mom! Hi! I thought you were in the shower?"

"No." She glanced around the room. "Who were you talking to?"

Kal’ma, Sarah whined. "No one. I was just practicing for my project in theater class."

"I see. If you ever need to talk, I’m here."

"Uh, thanks… That, um, means a lot to me." Her mother nodded and walked away. Too close! Sarah thought. If anything like that ever happens again, Vinnet, your cover’s blown sky-high!

I know. Perhaps you shouldn’t talk aloud, though I understand it’s hard to do for the first year or so.

Great. So I have to go through a whole year before people stop being so suspicious. Real comforting.

Up to a year. I’ll remind you when you’re ‘talking to yourself’. It should be no problem at all to get you to stop.

Sarah sighed, finished her cereal, and headed out the door for school. During homeroom, one of the school’s secretaries called over the intercom, asking for her to report to the office. Three minutes later, she entered the bustling room. "Excuse me, I was told to come here," she explained to an official-looking person.

"Anderson?" The lady looked up to see Sarah’s nod. She pointed back and to the left. "It’s that open door right there."

The Tok’ra nodded then ventured into the smaller room labeled ‘guidance office.’ There, she found a councilor and Lauren waiting for her. "Please close the door behind you," he said. After she did so and sat, he continued. "Yesterday, several students and teachers reported seeing the two of you with a man at lunch."

Sarah dropped her head into her hands, sighing. "Sorry to drag you into this, Lauren."

"It’s all right," she replied.

"This man," the councilor continued, "hadn’t checked in with the office, but a couple of the teachers recognized him."

Seth spawn! Sarah thought. That’s the last thing we need!

"How is it that you know Senator Kinsey?" he pressed.

Sarah shook her head. "Couple months ago, I hacked into some computers," she lied. "Kinsey wanted details on what I saw."

"That doesn’t make sense."

"He’s the chairman of a civilian oversight committee," Lauren explained. "And she saw some top-secret stuff."

"Next time," he scolded, staring at Sarah, "you can meet on your own time, not at school. Tell me, why did he meet you here anyway?"

Any time you want to bail me out, you’re more than welcome. You’re doing fine. Remember: as important as all these things have been to you in the past, you are now aware of greater things. Thanks for telling me all I care about amounts to a pile of mastradge fodder. It’s just what I needed to hear. Vinnet sent a warm, encouraging feeling to her host.

"He wouldn’t gotten me in trouble with my mom," Sarah explained. "Next time, I’ll just meet him in the parking lot or something."

"Your own time, Miss Anderson."

"Yes, sir." Whenever I actually have time again. If all this works out, maybe we can arrange a bit of vacation this summer. No sooner? We’ll see.

He paused for a few seconds. "Are you always so quiet and well-thought out?" he wondered.

"No," Sarah answered quietly. "I’m not always this quiet, but I suppose I do think stuff out a lot."

The councilor ignored Lauren’s sudden burst of laughter and nodded. "You understand I’ll have to contact your parents."

Sarah’s eyes widened. "No, please! I’d much rather take, say, a week of detention than have you call my mom!"

"Why?"

"Think about it. She found out that I broke into some government computers then found me talking to a senator about it when I can’t tell her. If she found out I talked to him again…"

"Maybe you’ll think about the consequences more in future situations." With that, the councilor left the room, presumably to do paperwork and call parents.

"Alright, Vinnet, any time you want to go home…"

A small laugh escaped Lauren. "What, she’s actually considering it?"

"She’s just thinking in terms of a vacation instead of an internship or permanent residence, unfortunately." I’m a field operative; I don’t have much experience in weapons development. Since you are so young and do not possess a broad knowledge base in science, it is doubtful that we could contribute as much as we could after you finish your education. "Thanks for the support, Vinnet," Sarah groaned.

"What if you told your mom part of the truth? If she knew about Vinnet, I’m sure she’d understand why you had to talk to Kinsey and why you act weird sometimes."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. You talk out loud to a snake in your head. You talk to each other a lot, and when you do that, it’s hard to get you to snap out of it."

Sarah thought a moment, easily recalling examples to prove her friend’s point. "I’m sorry," she said, her voice sincere. "I guess you’re right. I should tell her."


Sarah vs. Kinsey (Teil II)
(A/N: I was writing this, and one line of the Announcement kept ringing in my ears, so I guess it's not really canon as far as Sarah/Vinnet's life goes. Not that it was going to be anyway... But at least it's good writing practice and an outlet for emotion, etc.)

The inverse of y=√(4-x²)! C’mon, I know you know how to do it! Just tell me! You are intelligent enough to figure it out on your own. I don’t think so…

Sarah heard the door crack open, so she sat alert on the couch. After a couple moments, her mother entered, depositing her belongings on the floor. She glanced to her daughter. "Are you okay?" she wondered, sitting next to Sarah with her arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, fine," the Tok’ra replied, uncomfortably making eye contact. "Well, I don’t know. Mom, we need to talk."

Are you sure she won’t tell anyone at all? No, but Lauren’s right. She should know. Are you willing to compromise your ‘national security’? What do you want me to say, Vinnet? That your existence should be kept secret at the cost of my family? Maybe it should, but if you’re determined to explain it to her, keep the details to an absolute minimum. I will.

"Are you okay, Sarah?"

"Yeah, fine. What’d you say?"

Sarah’s mother shook her head. "I asked what you wanted to talk about."

"Oh." Sarah took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something about what happened back in February."

"Go on." Curiosity and concern played across the woman’s face.

This could work as long as the guidance councilor doesn’t call in the next few minutes. "They told me I couldn’t tell you any of this; it’s all classified top secret. I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t think you needed to know. Because of what happened then, there’s now a sentient being in the back of my neck. I’ll try to prove it in a minute."

"Sarah, lying won't help you get un-grounded." She moved the far end of the couch, where she could face her daughter.

The Tok'ra rolled her eyes. "That's why I decided to tell you the truth. Now, she and I talk a lot, which is why I've apparently been hard to reach at times. She's also why Kinsey wanted to speak to me."

"I still don't know that 'she' is actually there."

"Fine." Sarah pulled her long hair off her neck, simultaneously spinning to have her back to her mother. "Do you recognize that? It's not supposed to be there. It's called an entry scar for fairly obvious reasons, and the creature in my neck abhors it."

Her mother's brows furrowed as she stared at the two-inch line on her daughter's neck. She could think of no instance where her daughter might have received a scar so large. "What's this bump?" she wondered aloud, noticing Sarah's neck had extra mass.

"That's her."

"Riiight." She carefully felt around the bump. "You should see a doctor."

Sarah rolled her eyes again. "No, Mom, I shouldn't." She turned back around. "She was right. I shouldn't 've told you. Now you're going to freak out on me, insisting I tell you the truth when I've already gone against what they said and told you."

"I'm just saying that you've probably got a tumor that's pressing on part of your brain. The sooner you see a doctor, the sooner you can get back to normal."

"That's the thing, though: Vinnet's not a tumor. If I were to go to a doctor and get checked out, there goes secrecy, and for reasons I couldn't tell you if I tried, I go and live elsewhere."

The mother shook her head. "That's it. Get in the car; we're going to the hospital." She got off the couch and picked up her car keys. "Now."

Sarah remained firmly seated. "Mom, just sit down adn listen. I'm not crazy, I'm not delusional, and I don't have any tumors."

"Sarah Elaine Anderson, get in the car!"

The Tok'ra sighed, begging her symbiote to take over. This is important to you? Read my mind, Einstein! Yes! Do you think this will work? Eye-flashing is difficult to imitate.

Suddenly, the host's eyes glowed with a golden light that quickly disappeared, and her voice took on an extraterrestrial quality. "Please, sit down." The mother stared in disbelief, but continued standing on the far side of the room. "Stay there then," Vinnet continued, no hint of indignance marking her voice. "As your daughter attempted to explain, I am the being sharing her body. Please understand that we have already explained too much and now wish to elaborate as little as possible."

"Sarah, but it out; we're leaving," the woman persisted, her voice having lost much of its command.

"She has little input on what I say, though I must add that we agree that no doctor should be alerted to my presence."

The woman replaced her keys in their alcove but continued standing where she was, silent.

Vinnet sighed, annoyed that Tau'ri were so closed-minded when it came to the existance of aliens, especially Tok'ra. "Your daughter loves and respects you a great deal to risk such a security breach. I hope it is worth it. If not, it may be as she suggested. We may have to depart sooner than planned." The symbiote then noticed her host urging her to leave the mother to think. "I suppose, though, that this may be difficult for you, so we will be upstairs if you need us." With a small smile and a nod of respect, Vinnet gathered the homework strewn about the room andwalked to Sarah's room.

* * *

Once she had gone (whoever she was), Sarah's mother sat on the couch, placing her head in her hands. "Alien or tumor?" she debated, suddenly feeling alone. She didn't watn to betray her child's trust. After all, the Air Force officers' presence when Sarah returned lent credence to the teenager's claim that she'd seen classified information, but the suggestion that some significant part of her child's life was so secret seemed outrageous. Yet how could anyone begin to explain the scar, the lump, the voice, the eyes? Sure, the lump could be a tumor, the voice simulated (somehow), but as far as she knew, flashing eyes could be done only with computer generated light or some elaborate special effects, neither of which could be done life and discreetly. Then there was the scar to ponder over. She knew every "major" injury her daughter had received, none of which were severe, but none had been anywhere near her neck. Unless something had occured while Sarah was with the Air Force.

With a single question weighing heavily on her mind, Sarah's mother trudged up the stairs and quietly peeked into her daughter's bedroom, where the teenager clung to her dog, crying into his black fur.

* * *

"You were right, Vinnet! I should've believed you," Sarah sobbed, taking comfort in the scruffy fur she had buried her face in. "Now she'll take me for an MRI or something, they'll find you, turn us over to some research facility. Jack and everyone'll hate me for not being able to mind the classification. The High Council will know I'm not any good at being undercover. And there goes any positive connections here or at the base. So if nobody locks me up for the rest of my life, they'll send us to some deserted planet to be the only cursed inhabitants!"

Calm down. You make it out to be worse than it is--

"Or because I went and blabbed my mouth, any residual bad buy floating around on Earth could be out to kill us!"

You're exaggerating. We're young and they know it. Besides, the Tok'ra will not disown us for events on this world. On undercover missions, we will have no connections so deep as that you share with family. We all know this, and so allowences can be made. As for the situation on Earth, consider whether it matters. We, as Tok'ra, can leave and never again have any contact with the Tau'ri. Or not. Either way, our situation is not as desperate as you make it out to be.

"Can't I just lie here and cry without your expert logic?"

No, the symbiote replied. You're making me sad.

"What would I do without you?"

Your own homework.

"That's not helping."

You're not crying as hard; it is.

"Sarah?" said a tentative voice from the foot of her bed. The furniture creaked as it accepted more weight. "Can we talk?"

The Tok'ra sat up, releasing her dog and wiping her eyes with her hands. She was somewhat aware that her face was stilll streaked with tears and her eyes were probably red. "Uh, sure, I guess." A realization dawned on her which led to panic. "Seth and Sokar! How much did you hear?"

She shook her head. "Not much after 'out to kill us'."

Sarah dropped her head into her hands. Told you! "I've said too much. Way too much. I shouldn't 've brought any of it up, but I thought if you understood some little part of where I'm coming from, everything'd be easier. But it's that that I take for granted as truth. It just can't be any other way in my mind, but somehow, it's hard for anyone else to understand."

"We'll talk about it later," the somewhat bewildered Tau'ri promised. Unable to bring herself to help, she watched her child fretting at the head of the bed. "What did the Air Force do to you?" she wondered softly.

Sarah shook her head, pulling it out of her hands. "It wasn't the Air Force, Mom, but I can't say more than that."

"Who did this to you then? And that scar on your neck, who did that?" she asked, her voice worked up again.

"I can't say anything more than what I've already told you. The Air Force didn't do anything to me. And that scar is from when Vinet, that sentient being I told you about, went into me. Mom, you have to believe me on this!"

She paused for a moment. "You'll understand if I want you to see a councilor if not a doctor."

"I understnad, yes, and I guess I could humor you as long as you don't tell them about Vinnet. You know, national security and all. "

"If you'd like to recommend a councilor?"

The Tok'ra thought a moment, but she coudn't recall any psychiatrists or councilors at the SGC or among the Tokra--unless Vinnet could count. "Don't know any."

The mother nodded, now considering that her child could be paranoid. "All right. You'll start tomorrow. New tell me why you think someone's out to kill you."

Sarah shook her head. Vinnet, what do I say? Those people have a grudge against me. She took a deep breath. "The people who want to kill us don't like Vinnet. Some of them think she killed some queen."

"We'll talk about that tomorrow," she promised, standing and leaving the room.

That vacation you were talking about? The educational trip to Colorado? Will not solve this. We will see how this turns out before abandoning hope. What if she she never believes us? We leave.

* * *

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Sharing some original stuff....


Jordan Roxbury shifted her weight from one leg to the other, impatiently waiting in the school lunch line. After ten minutes of inching forward a total of five feet, she marched to a vending machine, deposited a dollar bill, and jabbed the button for her selection. Nothing happened. She glanced back up to the top of the device, only to see a sloppily taped out of order sign high above her low eye-level. She uselessly tapped the coin release lever before storming to her lunch table. "Hey, Meg," she began, dropping to a chair, "can I beg for some food?"

"Sure," the other replied. "Have a brownie; it's got sprinkles."

"Right, the whole childhood sprinkle trauma," Jorden recalled, pulling the half-edible desert from her friend's tray. "Thanks."

"So how's your day going?" Megan inquired politely.

"Horrible," she replied, her tone one of nonchalance. "I've got so much homework; I've got to write that King Arthur essary for tomorrow, define thirty words, and study for five tests." She sighed, carefully setting her head ona cleaner part of the table. She continued with her forehead just in front of a math book. "Tonight I'll proably see if that aroma therapy stuff has any merit."

Megan laughed a couple times. "You mean with that bottle of water you've been keeping in your room for four months?"

"That's special water," Jordan replied defensively, picking her head up off the table. "The sign by the spring siad that it was used as a health center in the mid-1800s because people thouth the water wass medicinal."

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Thought I'd come on and complain a bit about English class.

Materials.
C'mon. We're in high school; we shouldn't be working on fragments, run-ons, and comma placement in HONORS ENGLISH!!!! We've done that same thing since seventh grade! Really, there must be something more we can do, like the things that my beta reader keeps saying I mess up on. How 'bout those, because we've never learned that before, and I think it's about time instead of spending THREE DAYS! on fragments, run-ons, comma splices, comma placement, apostrophes, etc. I can understand doing that for regular English, but this is Honors. Last year's teacher didn't even do this, but then again, he had a lot more personality in the class room. (Go Mr. W! No, not the bio Mr. W....) Seriously, correct capitalization is not something I need to work on, nor is any of the other stuff. So let's get to it. Lemme learn something! (By the way, in case you're wondering, yes, I do know that all caps is bad and exclamation points should not be used more than one at a time or in the middle of a sentences, but this isn't formal writing and you can't exactly hear th

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Diamonds are Forever
I carried three plates of "three cheese chicken" to the table then placed one in front of each person, all the while trying to remain upright despite the dog at my feet.

"Such amazing cooking skills!" David observed sarcastically. "Imagine that!"

"Shut up!" I replied, mock-offended, after translating the Goa'uld words that came to mind. "Or would you rather have your hot frozen food still cold?"

"It's fine," he replied before saying grace. Immediately after, he glanced over at the third person. "So how did Matt end up here?"

The teen stared at me, probably wondering how close I'd come to the truth. "His mother was a good friend of mine. In her will, she asked that he stay with me if anything happened to her."

My boyfriend's brows furrowed, concern growing on his face. "What happened?"

"She died of cancer," Matt answered.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright," the boy acknowledged, taking a particularly large bite.

"How was your trip to Germany last month?" David inquired, no doubt changing the subject away from what he thought was a painful subject for the high schooler. Matt perked up at the question; he wanted to know the answer, too.

I shrugged, wondering how I could prase the truth--a trip to the Tok'ra base--to make it sound normal. "Tiring. My travel partner thought about not going at the last minute, but I finally convinced him it would be worthwhile. Jacob doesn't come with us anymore; the council thinks he's more sympathetic with our culture than theirs. I'm glad I don't spend a lot of time over there; they'd probably think I'd turned evil."

"Does your inner child want to travel?" Matt asked, his question really meaning 'does Vinnet want to leave?'

"Yes and no," I replied. "I really enjoy it here, but they could always use my help there."

"Wait, are you German or American?" David interrupted.

"American," I answered honestly, dropping out of the metaphoric speaking.

"Wait, but?" David began, only to be interrupted by the phone.

"Can you answer that for me? It's probably Dad."

He nodded and leaned back to grab the portable phone on the counter behind him. "Hello?" He listened for a moment. "I think you've got the wrong number..."

"Who is it?" I wondered.

"I don't know," David replied. "Here."

I accepted the proffered phone from him. "Hello?"

"Reeses?" Jack's voice came over the phone.

"Here."

"Jacob called with some bad news," he informed me. "Said you'd want to know."

A weight settled in the pit of my stomach; not one of my calls from the SGC had ever begun with 'you'd want to know.' "Yes?"

"Vandrof's host died; he caught a few staff weapons blasts. Jacob wanted you to understand, though, that Vandrof's still alive."

"He needs a...?"

"Yeah. Didn't sound urgent. They've got a tank like Lantash had."

"Okay, thanks." I hung up then stared at my plate.

"He was trying to reach Reeses," David observed.

"That's my nickname at work," I explained, now picking at my food, suddenly not half as hungry as I had been before.

"That's funy. You can't stand peanut butter. I don't know why you even keep some around the house."

You'd laugh if I told you, I thought in reply.

"So how many do they need?" Matt inquired. "Can I--we--help?" he added, taking David into account.

"Just one. Remember the guy you met when you went with me?"

"Which one?"

I frowned, tyring to think of who he'd seen during his off-world excursion. "The pilot on the return flight."

His eyes widened. "Him? What happened?"

"He was shot. I don't know the particular circumstances, but with the the war and all..."

"That's horrible!" David interjected. "Did you know him well?"

I shrugged. "Friend of a friend. She's told me all about him. I finally got to meet him a few months ago."

"I'm sorry. Is he alright?"

"Stable," I replied simply.

"I'll pray for him," David promised.

Matt glanced to my boyfriend, looking worried, but he spoke anyway. "Do you know who you'll take with you to... visit him in the hospital?"

"I'll go with you if you want," the other offered.

"Uh, thanks," I relied, glanced back to the teenager. "But, no, I don't have anyone in mind yet."

The high-schooler grinned mischievously. "David siad he'd go."

I levelled an unappreciative glare in the boy's direction. "I heard him," I growled.


***



After the visitor had left, I sat in my office, pouring over notes on arious possible hosts, but Vinnet thought none of them would make a great host for Vandrof. Of those on that short list, a full half gave me the distinct impression that at the first mention of the word symbiote, a yes would no longer be possible.

I heard a light tap at the office door, and after a long sigh, I looked up to see Matt leaning against the door frame, Garshie at his feet. "Vinnet see anyone who could blend with Vandrof?"

I shook my head then allowed my symbiote to surface. "He is quite open-minded; no host could permanently bother him unless he held any Goa'uld in high regard. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for those we have contacted about becoming hosts. Usually, we find Tau'ri whose personality is imilar to the symbiotes'."

"God provides," Matt noted.

"If you see it that way," Vinnet replied cooly.

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

My history class this year has a lot to do with cultures, and the common features of every culture. So I was thinking... There are a ton of different, alien cultures represented in Stargate. Are they complete cultures? Do they have everything present in cultures? So I took the guide I was working from and applied it to the Goa'uld/Jaffa/Lotaur/Humans civilization.

Customs and traditions
>>holiday traditions--We don't actually know if they have holidays.
>>table manners--Goa'uld: eat food live, two hands, no utensils, wait for group... okay, maybe some dishes every now and then.... Jaffa: cooked food, dishes, probably utensils.
>>what you wear to a prom--they don't have proms, but if they did, Goa'uld: same outfits as usual Jaffa: probably come up with some spiffy-ish dress
>>punishment for murder--Goa'uld or Jaffa: promotion, granted that you've "bested" the right people
>>behavior in a theater--Jaffa: shut up and don't disrupt viewing experience for the "gods" Goa'uld: do whatever you want

Units of Social Organization
>>family--Goa'uld: not so important, loose... Jaffa: tight, loving, honor
>>academic classes--Jaffa: one on one training. If you don't know the First Prime, don't hope to be the First Prime...
>>circle of friends--Jaffa: see above Goa'uld: friends? What friends?
>>occupation--Goa'uld: System Lord or not... Jaffa: First Prime, royal guard, or dead footsoldier... Humans serving Goa'uld: lotaur or not
>>social class--not that I haven't touched on it... Goa'uld System Lords above Mini-Goa'uld above First Prime above Royal Guard above Jaffa footsoldier above Jaffa Priests above Jaffa Priestesses above the Lotaur above the rest of the meddling humans and the young and female Jaffa

Language
>>official language--Goa'uld then English (unless you watch in German or French or Spanish, then it's that....)
>>dialects--"This appears to be written in an obscure dialect of Goa'uld."

Types of Government
Okay, each Goa'uld's territory is pretty much a dictatorship. The whole system lords thing is almost democracy (or an oligarchy), except that they never agree on anything.

Uniqueness of Arts and Literature
Really, what Stargate fan can't tell Goa'uld architecture from Asgard?
>>art--think of that nice little sculpture on top of the vat of symbiotes in the episode where Danny went to Goa'uld Mardi Gras.
>>music--Um... I think there was music... somewhere. I just don't remember where. But sure, they have music...
>>literature--Heiroglyphics. I know it's all history, but I guess it can still be literature. I mean, they've got to have something written in heiroglyphics on all those Ha'taks... unless that's the warrenty...
>>Folk Tales--among Jaffa, at least, there's the legend of Kheb, that of the Tok'ra, and probably other things I forgot...
>>architecture--Goa'uld architecture isn't all that unique, except for the ships. Those are very distinct in the battle between smooth, flowing curves and odd, sharp angles. Jaffa architecture is an interesting blend of stonework and natural roofing, along with wood and or stone doors. Not much in the way of glass, though, as I recall. Think someone should teach them how to get electricity? Light bulbs? Bubble baths? Etc?

Religion
Gee, I wonder what that could be? Not that it's so painfully obvious in the whole show! Everyone under the local Goa'uld is supposed to worship it as a deity, whether that be a Jaffa or human or lotaur. Each local Goa'uld distributes his own creation myth. That's about it.

Economic System
This one's really hard to figure out for Goa'uld/Jaffa society; when do we ever hear of any kind of currency in Goa'uld-town? Never! Sure, they're worried about treasure and they're all greedy, but they're not after any kind of currency. Each Goa'uld provides for himself via the Jaffa (and humans) who serve him, but when do we ever see the Jaffa providing him themselves? You never hear of Jaffa going out on hunting trips or farming, but they have food and meat on the table. You never hear of Jaffa carpenders or construction workers, but they have houses. You never hear of Jaffa schools, but they seem to know everything they need. You never hear of Jaffa entertainment centers, but the youngsters and mothers have to do something all day while their husbands and fathers are off dying on the other side of the galaxy. I think I found where the Stargate people need to use some of that creative energy....
Vinnet's assignments



10 sentences about you auf Deutsch (by Vinnet)
Ich bin ein Tok'ra. Ich heisse Vinnet. Ich habe Tok'ra gern. Ich habe zatn'katels auch gern. Ich wohne am Erd. Ich komme mit das Stargate. Ich komme aus Iechnor. Ich habe ein Hund, wer heisst Garshie. Ich wohne in Sarah Anderson. Meine Lieblingsfarbe ist grün.

Why are you taking honors history this year? (by Sarah; the true answer)

You figure that everyone's got to have their favorite classes, symbiotes included, but seriously, no one should really love a core class so much! I know the whole school thing is kind of an elective for Vinnet, maybe even a vacation, but history isn't so great that she should adore it.

She has this whole thing about learning about Earth's cultures; it's kind of a hobby. Sure, she enjoys what I like, mainly German (not a core class, by the way), but she looks forward to history every day. That's not saying I hate it; I dislike it less than I used to because of her. (Mom and Dad think the subject's growing on me because I've got more interesting teachers. I wish! But as long as they don't know about Vinnet, they can believe whatever they want.)

So, to answer the question, I'm taking this class, because the snake in my head told me to.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Don't ask.


There once was a monkey named APU, who jumped out at a family with a "BOO!" He scared the child saying, "COO." What was the father to DO when his wife took a look and said, "EW!" So he scolded the monkey: "You FOO’!"

Saturday, August 21, 2004

Indiana Jones is sent to the future while on an expidetion to Antarctica. Circa 1943. http://stud4.tuwien.ac.at/~e9125985/IJC/Chronicles/Timeline/1922-1960.html

Indiana Jones looked around the icy cavern. "I never dreamed I'd visit Antarctica," he complained to his companion. His voice then became serious. "But then, I never thought anyone would ever find any artifacts here." He stared at the find: a huge, round ring standing upright in the cave. It consisted of two concentric rings. The inner, which seemed to be set into the outer, showed many different glyphs. The outer held nine triangles, evenly dispersed around the ring. Off to their left was a pedastal not more than four feet high with identical glyphs.

The inner ring on the artifact began to spin, some of the nine triangles lighting up. He frowned. This wasn't exactly normal for arifacts; maybe the glowing part--he'd seen that before--but definatly not the moving part. Well, there was that one time... Suddenly, a burst of water-like substance whooshed out from the ring, momentarily engulfing his companion. As it retreated, he looked around for her, but saw absolutely nothing. The tiniest trace of her was absent.

As he stared at the sideways, rippling blue surface suddenly stretching to all sides of the ring, four figures emerged, clad in metal with animal-like heads. A few of them levelled long staffs in his direction, one of which spat out a golden burst of energy before Indiana Jones leapt into action.

Saturday, July 31, 2004

The Space Race - Thomas Stafford: "We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.
John F. Kennedy
Rice University
Sept. 12, 1962 "

Whatever happened to this spirit of striving for the impossible because we perceive it to be so? The whole world seems to be sitting on its collective mikta, scratching its head and staring at its belly button. The vast, overwhelming majority of countries are focused on internal affairs, relations with other countries, etc., and that's all well and good. But if we ever want to go anywhere, we're going to have to put aside medicare, give up giving terrorists the attention they crave, and look up into the sky again.

Assuming I don't get arrested or anything for saying this (everyone's still so caught up in trying to identify terrorists that I've heard they're incringing on free speech now... 'course, that was IM...), America, at least, needs a rival nation, perhaps even one that can be a worthy adversary. And this adversary needs to reach to the sky, challenge us to beat him to Mars or Io. We need something to kick start NASA again.

And don't tell me that NASA hasn't become idle; I know about the shuttle program and the ISS. But a shuttle couldn't get a flea to the moon, let alone a person to the aformentioned moon of Jupiter. Not to mention that every time something goes wrong, we're on the brink of giving up. (You know, if NASA could get some support, that'd go a long way, too...)

What do we really expect to find up there in the highest reaches of our atmosphere? (The shuttles don't actually completely leave the atmosphere, by the way.) I mean, The Andromeda Strain makes foreign bacteria sound so interesting, but that's not why we're there. I'm sure it's cool and all that spider webs are clumpy in freefall. But where's the intrigue? So we've got experiments going. Wa hoo. Yipee. Can we get any further along in the matter of getting off this rock? I mean, Earth is great. Beautiful. Extremely, and I'm not just being sarcastic. But what if there's more we're missing out on or postponing just 'cause we're so caught up in how much tax we might have to pay or whether Bob and Judy are going to go out tomorrow or break up? What if something or someone is waiting for us to step out the front door, walk out to get the galactic newspaper, and meet the neighbors?

Even if there's no one out there or you believe that there isn't any other life (or intelligent life) in the universe (though it's getting to be kinda rare on Earth... if only sane people ran the world... Hey, we could ship all the politicians off to Mars to duke it out verbally for all time!), look at it this way. There's a whole universe out there. Each one of us is one person out of over six billion. Those six billion plus people all fit on this planet of ours with a few square miles to spare. Our planet is one of the smaller ones in the solar system. The closest star could fit millions of our precious world inside it, and it's not even a big one. There are thousands, if not millions, of stars in our galaxy. And this little galaxy we call the Milky Way (much more creative than "Sun" and "Moon" and if you think about it, "Earth") is one of thousands, probably millions, in our ever expanding universe. We are so small. Don't you think we could stand to take up a bit more space, especially if you think there's no chance of encringing on anyone else's turf?

And if you do think that there's gotta be someone else out there, wouldn't it be nice if we weren't the shy, solitary, skulky neighbors for once?

Since the mid 1800s, probably before then (those ancient rock signs in South America that can only be seen from helicopter or plane), people have been dreaming of going up, away, into the sky. Why not now? Why did we stop dreaming? Are we so caught up in our tiny, everyday lives that we can't stop and wonder what we're missing? The universe isn't empty; it's as full of beauty as our own planet Earth, if not more. Hubble keeps sending us beautiful nebulae, awe-inspiring galaxies. Not to sound way too cliche, but there are whole worlds out there to explore, other solar systems, other galaxies. And here we are fighting over who should be the next person to fill a role in a beaurocracy.

I'm almost done, promise.

People used to look up at the sky, imagining that the individual twinkling lights were gods. Later, they realized that those lights were burning spheres of gas, and deciding that that's not a very nice place to visit, turned their gazes to the moon. As early as 1865, people like Jules Verne imagined visiting the moon. They must have thought it impossible. Merely flying was hard enough, but to go so high as to reach an orbiting satellite must have seemed impossible. The task seems so outrageous that some people doubt we've even achieved it. But now we know that it's possible. We have a reliable way to get there and have gone six times starting with Apollo 11 and ending with Apollo 17.

We've gone there, done that. Now we need a new impossible task. And we need the motivation to achieve it. I pray that one day soon, we'll have both and the full and undivided support of our currently distracted nation.

Sunday, July 25, 2004

I don't know where this came from. It's kind of a bad rip-off of Stargate. Mostly, it's my "Wormhole X-treme is to Stargate as Stargate: SG-1 is to x" story. But I really haven't been thinking about it that long; it just kinda popped up with all I've been reading lately. But if you enjoy it, great. If you don't, I guess I need to find better ideas to play with.

Dramatis Personae (as they might be if I continue)
The General
Kevin Armstrong--old team French linguist
Liluye "Chani" Armstrong--new team German linguist (15)
Natalia Kuli--old team German linguist
George Kuli--new team Spanish linguist (18)
Lucas Kuli--MOCR (18)
Marie Miller--old team Spanish linguist
Gus Miller--new team French linguist (19)
Neil Miller--new team diplomatic leader and German linguist (16)
Pavel Koretsky--old team diplomatic leader and Russian linguist
Valentina Koretsky--new team Russian linguist (20)

**********

November 1st, 1986.
Though he towered over the room's other occupant, the six foot five inches tall civilian nodded respectfully to the general before him. "Thank you, sir. You know, I probably won't be able to come back here until she's out of the house, and by then..."

The Air Force officer smiled, even laughed a bit. "By then, you'll be too old to keep up. I understand. Even something so amazing as the 512 should never get in the way of your family." His face became serious again, as it usually was while he was on duty. "You realize we need as many good poeple as possible. I trust your daughter will have no aversion to joining in when she can if we're still around."

"I'll do what I can," the tall man replied.

"Good." The general stood, taking the other's hand in a shake. "God be with you, Kevin."

"You, too." With that, the two parted.

June 13, 2003.
"You've got to admit," Chani declared as soon as the commercials started, "that if he wasn't evil, wasteful, and annoying, Anubis would have been a really cool ally."

Kevin shook his head. He'd long ago given up trying to 'discuss' these points with his daughter. She always came up with too many counterpoints anyway. Her attention shifted back to the TV, where snippets from an upcoming episode flashed across the screen.

He frowned, something in the commerical evoking memories of a promise he'd made years before, a promise they had called in. Earlier that evening, he'd received a message from his old employer, explaining that his presence had been requested and his daughter's as well. His first instinct had been to say no, but he knew they wouldn't let him just change his mind. Besides that, he was positive his daughter would love to go.

She was so young. He had been nineteen when he signed on, and he'd always thought of himself as being too young. But Chani, she was fifteen, barely that. He couldn't imagine that they didn't realize that.

Fortunately, her mother thought that it was a good idea, that it might give Chani something to work towards in school. At least the teen wouldn't have to worry about getting a summer job.

**********

Chani glanced down at her clothing for the fifth time in three minutes. "You know," she remarked, "all the times I've flown, and I've worn tennis shoes on every flight. Are you sure we won't have time to change before getting there?"

Kevin sighed. Since they were to be landing right at the base, it gave more meaning to the words 'direct flight' than she knew. "We're going to be late, even as it is," he mumbled, "so I really don't want to take the time to change." His eyes hadn't moved from the novel in his hands.

"So, um, what are your cousins like?" Chani grumbled, fidgeting with her skirt again.

"They're nice." He then pretended to be completely absorbed in the book.

Finally, she looked up from her clothes and around at the other people on the aircraft. "Hey, Dad, don't you think it's a little odd that this plane can hold something like thirty passengers, and there's only, lesse, seven of us?"

He shook his head. "It's a small airport."

"Small airports don't have direct flights from the other side of the country. You can barely get one to GSP anymore, and that's only five states away, not forty-eight."

"We got lucky."

"Scheisse. This is flying, remember? You don't get lucky unless it has something to do with the pilots' abilities or how fast you got through security."

A woman across the aisle and in the row in front of them snickered at the remark. Kevin shook his head. "I don't know, Chani, so settle down. It's a long flight."

She sighed then stared out the window. Delicate designs of light green, dark green, and other tiny shapes crawled by, where she could seen them through the breaks in the puffy white and gray carpet of clouds. Above the plane, the sky was clear and blue, a hue of which rivalled faceted sapphires in beauty.

Though the view was wonderful, she shortly declared it predictable, consistant, unchanging, and therefore boring, so she glanced back at her father. Her jaw dropped when she saw him conversing lightly with the woman across the aisle.

"Computer programming," Kevin replied, answering the woman's question. "You?"

She grinned. "After you left, we all heard about it, and the general even told us why and encouraged us with 'family always comes first.' I went home, raised the kids, and started teaching fifth grade."

"That's great."

Chani tapped his arm. "Dad?" she asked pointedly.

He coughed a couple horried, wet smokers' coughs. "Chani, this is Natalia Kuli. I used to work with her."

The teenager smiled half-heartedly. "Hi."

Natalia waved in reply but stared at Kevin. "You didn't tell her, did you."

His eyes darted back and forth. "I didn't know I was supposed to."

A visible realization crossed the woman's face, and for a few moments, she looked as though she couldn't decide whether to laugh or to remain caught up in the seriousness the situation seemed to demand. "They never sent you the Introduction Guidelines, did they."

He shook his head, his eyebrows falling together. "Introduction--"

"Language?"

"Yours."

Natalia nodded then looked to Chani. "Sag mir, warum kommt ihr hier?"

She shrugged, obviously surprised at the transition into German. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to respond. "Family reunion."

"You weren't so far off from the truth, Kev. All four of us are comin' back to teach these young 'uns what it's all about."

"How many?" he wondered.

"For now, just five." She glanced to Chani, but addressed Kevin. "The Introduction Guidelines insist that 'new recuits' so to speak are to be told most of it on the way, without detailed explanation of devices until we're inside."

He shrugged. "Guess I'd better get started. Nice talking to you again, Natalie." Kevin then anchored a bookmark in his novel and deposited it in the seatback pocket in front of him. "Chani, we aren't going to a family reunion."

"I got that, but thank you, Captain Obvious." She thought for a moment. "Guidelines to introduce people to what?"

"The 512," he answered, belatedly realizing it would be nothing more than a number to her. "Put it this way: You're right. Aliens do exist, and they've been here."

Her eyebrows rose, and for a second, she could say nothing. "You're joking, right?"

Saturday, July 17, 2004

It's kind of a cross between my own cool experience, Stargate, Star Wars, and Star Trek. Since I really don't know Star Trek that well, it's probably not going to work, but what the hey?
 
*********
 
Captain Archer sat back in his chair on the bridge. "On screen." Immediately, the screen before him, which had previously shown only streaming stars, changed to show a man in red robes wearing a black headdress. "I'm Captain Johnathan Archer of...." With a flick of the man's wrists, he found himself staring down at Earth.
 
********
 
"I can't shake him!" Luke cried, desperately trying to escape the vessel following them out of the Maw.
 
"We've got a bigger problem, kid!" Han warned, pointing to the starboard side of the forward viewport. His eyes widened. He'd never had any urge to become so personal with a black hole.
 
A loud cheer echoed down the hall: "Yes!" It was soon followed by a new Jedi by the name of Corran Horn.  Just as he entered the cockpit, his jaw dropped. "Is that what I think it is?"
 
"Yeah," replied Han.
 
"Luke?"
 
The Jedi shook his head. "I'm doing all I can." His voice sounded strained. "The engines aren't doing much. I'm trying to use the Force to help pull us away."
 
"Your Force isn't helping much, kid!"
 
"Han, will you..." Just then, the rickety ship they had borrowed lost hull integrity, pulling all three out into space and nearer to the event horizon.
 
******** 
  
SG-1 sat in yet another briefing. This one focused on some significance of a special gem on PS9-356. Apparently, it might hold the key to safely removing symbiotes from their hosts. Jack really didn't care.
 
Just as he thought he couldn't take any more, he saw a bright, white light. He grinned, thanking Thor for his brilliant timing.
 
********
 
"...the Starship Enterprise." Archer stared. He was just in the Expanse. How could he be home already? He looked around, where he noticed three other people in the small room with him, floating weightless, as was he. A blonde woman floated at the other end of the module, and a graying man was by a small computer terminal. He heard a bark, whereupon he turned around to see his dog, Porthos.
 
The gray-haired man spun around, a gigantic grin on his face. "Hey, Carter!" Then he looked around again. "This isn't Thor's ship..."
 
She nodded. "No, sir, it isn't. I'm not entirely sure, but I think we're aboard the International Space Station."
 
Archer frowned. "The ISS? The space station built in the early 2000's?"
 
"Yeah....?"

"How did I get here?"

The graying man frowned. "Thor didn't beam you? Sure looked Asgard to me." He looked back to the other woman. "That look Asgard to you?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Who are you?" Archer questioned.

The man indicated himself. "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, and this," he said, pointing to the woman, "is Major Samantha Carter."

The captain nodded, extending a hand to shake the colonel's hand. "Captain Johnathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise."


Thursday, July 15, 2004

I am currently writing from Advanced Space Academy in Huntsville, Alabama. For future reference, they hardly have any technology. Snec has more sophisticated technology. XP, more computers, etc. Alright. Lemme see what I can say while I'm here before I forget.
 
I would start back at Alpha Mission, but I more clearly remember the EDM (extended duration mission) since we did that this morning. By the way, NASA is the king of ... of... whatchamacallits. Beware of special space camp quotes. They indicated a fictional condition.
 
Okay, so the EDM is six hours long. (More like five and a half since we break for lunch.) Anyhow, my position was ISS (that's International Space Station for you non-NASA fans) commander for the first four hours and MS1 (mission specialist one) for the last two hours.
 
The first "half" (as in, the first four hours), we were in the shuttle (Enterprise for you who know). All eight of us: Enterprise commander and pilot, two mission specialists, station commander, station specialists, and a couple of flight engineers. At T+00:05:00 ish, the commander had a "heart attack" and collapsed on the control panels. The mission specialists got up out of their chairs, whereupon they "broke their arms". Along with one of the flight engineers, they thought they could safely stand at that time, as the MSes had done in the one hour misions. At a safe time of after T+00:08:30, we stood and took care of the "injured".
 
During this, the commander apparently "floated" down to below deck to get out of the pilot's way. Someone opened the unpressurized airlock. So, of course, he got "depressurization sickness".  He was "moaning with the benz," as he puts it. I didn't pay attention.
 
Sometime after he was cured and the MSes were out on their EVA (extravehicular activities), four of us crawled into SpaceHab. At that point, three people passed out, and I was "disoriented." (Oh, yes, the crawlway back to middeck definately looks like a Stargate.... Right...) Eventually, someone came and saved all of us, and we finally figured out that there was a crack in SpaceHab. So after searching with helmits on inside a simulator, we finally found this tiny crack. And what does the commander (who saved us) do? She puts her fingers right by the crack, where she "loses" all of them.
 
We all came extraordinarily close to "dying", but... Nobody did, actually.
 
Around then, we docked with the station and all got completely out of the orbiter, walked across a concrete floor, around some floating kids (figuratively) up a few stairs into the Liberty module of the ISS. All was pretty much going well. We had a few anamolies, including balloons marked "smoke" (whereupon we found the fire) and "pee" and "poo." One of the flight engineers stepped on "solid waste" and popped it. That was about the only anamoly I fixed.
 
Then we had a meteor shower.  Oh, fun. So after a few checklists and flipping several switches, (Please ignore my horrid grammar.) we evacuated into the Columbis module. All eight of us. Fun. Some confusion there with MOCR (aka. mission operations control room, aka mission control, aka Houston). And when we came back, we found a stuffed, bloody flight suit. We all kind of looked around like "Who did we forget?" Actually, I was wondering if SpaceGhost had killed the person we sent ahead to hit a button on the keypad.
 
For lunch, we were "beamed" to the cafeteria. The following are the gists of our (meaning my) conversations before and during the EDM:

Thursday, July 08, 2004

This marks the one-year anniversary of this blog! I should throw a party! Here's a look at about 1/1000th of the history of this blog:

July 8: Start blog, review hypertext fiction for my two-week hypertext class.
August 18: New link for my hypertext site.
September 19: A snippet of Reeses.
October 3: The beginning of the template.
November 6: Lethargic Major General.
December 1: "Your writing's not just half decent, it's bloody good!" (-Mara Jade)
January 2: Progress report on stories.
February 6: Dissing "Chimera"
March 3: Dear Baka and Beranmee
April 2: Random thoughts.
May: Quizzes and trying new HTML stuff with the new blogger. (My inner child is still 16)
June 7: Another scifi essay.
July 1: A new original story that wasn't as inspired as I thought it was.

So how 'bout everyone come over to my place, and we'll have ice cream, cake, and dark chocolate?

Friday, July 02, 2004

Hey, if you're incredibly bored, check out these links:

What kind of Stargate bad guy are you?

Which SG team are you on?

Which scifi?

Which Jack are you?

Random POTC
For those of you who like Sarah and Vinnet, this is the official introduction of my post-season seven character. I'm not exactly sure if I'm going to make this stuff official in my mind, but if this character crops up elsewhere, you'll remember her. This is a little wordy, but enjoy!
OH, by the way, I think I've finally figured out how to have Reeses happen before season seven. It was hard, and I don't like it. They really messed everything up for me by kicking General Hammond off and giving Earth a way to kill the Goa'uld. Oh, well, I guess I'll live.




A lone figure marched down the ramp in the SGC's embarkation room, wearing traditional Tok'ra garb. Her hair was chin-length, somewhat frizzy, and the exact hue of dark chocolate. Her eyes were a striking blue, and not in just the normal sense; the usually white part of her eyes were blue, as were her irises.

Just after the wormhole shut off behind her, General Hammond gave the all-clear. As he entered the room, her eyes flashed with an ever-so-slightly green light. He flinched at this; like Colonel O'Neill, he could never really get used to it. "Welcome to Earth," he greeted.

She bowed and replied in the strange voice belonging to the symbiote, "Thank you, General Hammond. I appreciate the opportunity to return. I am Aldwin."

Hammond nodded politely. "How can we help you?"

"Two of the others need new hosts."

**********

Sarah held a hand to her head. This was giving her such a headache. "I'm sorry, Kathy, you don't understand what you're asking me to do."

"No," the woman across from her bit back, "you don't understand. My husband is dying here. It can't be that difficult to get him in any earlier. They say he has days left, Miss Anderson!"

The Tok'ra drew in a calming breath. "I've got that. But there is absolutely nothing I can do. Even if I--" The ringing phone interrupted her soon-to-be-callous argument. She picked it up. "Sarah Anderson."

"Hello, Sarah," Jack's voice chimed. "Aldwin dropped by today."

"Yeah?" Hope filled her voice. If she could get a symbiote for the man in front of her, his wife would stop breathing down her neck.

"Said they need two. Also got a new host, by the way."

"Really? What's he like?"

"She is weird. You'll have to see for yourself."

"Okay. Be there soon." As she hung up, she met the stares of the two in her office. "He said they're ready for you."

"What are we waiting for, then?" questioned Kathy.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I need two people, healthy or not, to do this, but I can take only those volunteering for the procedure."

She nodded. "I'll do it."

*********

The Tok'ra, Matt, and the couple were riding silently toward the SGC when Kathy, who now sat beside her husband in the vehicle's middle row, asked, "If it's a procedure to cure cancer, why can healthy people undergo it?"

"Because the purpose of it isn't really to cure cancer." Sarah glanced at their faces in the rear-view mirror, making sure they were ready. Several months before, one of the Tok'ra had died because she hadn't arrived soon enough. After that, General Hammond had authorized her to brief the volunteers on the way.

"What do you mean?" Kathy's quiet husband peeped.

"Six years ago, we contacted a race of aliens called the Tok'ra." She paused to let the information sink in; the goal wasn't to give these people heart attacks. "Tok'ra cannot survive outside a particular environment: the human body."

"Eww!" Kathy squealed. "We won't do it! We won't do it!"

Sarah shrugged, guessing that her husband wasn't having as much of a hard time. "Hear me out. Tok'ra have an ability to cure their hosts of pretty much all diseases, including cancer. They can also heal wounds much faster than the human body alone."

Kathy glanced to her husband than back to Sarah. When she spoke, her voice was somewhat calmer. "What's in it for me? I don't have cancer."

"You're so worried about Brian; you'll get to be with him," Matt explained.

"Not necessarily," Sarah corrected. "You see, the Tok'ra aren't exactly a peaceful, industrialized civilization."

"They aren't?" she asked, worry in her voice again.

"Not really. The Tok'ra are a small group of rebels, who oppose an enemy we've been fighting for the past seven years. This enemy will kill without forethought. Actually, there's hundreds of them, and they think humans exist only to serve them."

"That's it. Turn this car around; we are not doing this," Kathy stammered. "I've heard enough. Even if all this is true, you're a hypocrite, asking us to be these Toka when you're not."

Matt's laughing broke into the following silence while Sarah and Vinnet switched. "You are quite wrong," the symbiote began, trying to limit the strangeness of her voice. "Sarah is, in fact, a host. Since all you've heard is classified top secret, she could not reveal my existence before now."

Brian raised an eyebrow; he accepted this easier than his wife did. "And that makes you...?"

Vinnet smiled slightly, glad that there was still hope that these two might become hosts. "I am the Tok'ra symbiote inside Sarah. My name is Vinnet."

Kathy pointed to Matt. "How does he know?"

"His mother is alos a Tok'ra host. Bizzare circumstances allowed him to gain knowledge of us."

She still looked worried. "I don't think I want to do this."

"If you do not," the symbiote replied, losing some of the tight control of her voice, "you could be allowing some of our few to die without reason. We are in desperate need of hosts in order to continue our battle against the Goa'uld."

"The what?" questioned Kathy.

Sarah surfaced again, ready to clear up what Vinnet had said. "The Goa'uld. They're the bad guys I was talking about earlier."

"Wait." Kathy stared at the side of Sarah's head, trying to figure out what had happened.

"Now, Vinnet made everything sound more desperate than it really is. Yes, the dying Tok'ra back at the base might die before we find someone willing, but they might not. If you really don't want to do this, we can send you to another planet instead. Hebridia, maybe. There's plenty of peaceful worlds out there." While she said this, Sarah stopped her car at the base's gates and rolled down her window.

The guard grinned and lood around the car. "You're clear to go in, Reeses."

Thursday, July 01, 2004

Quote of the day: "Everything you've heard in the media, depending on what it is, is either true or not true." Thank you for that observation, Amanda Tapping!

Question of the day: How are all the not-so-smart people politicians and all the smart people teachers? Is there some rhyme or reason for that?

Ted's question: Are you ever coming home?

Reeses progress report: I was thinking about working on Reeses this morning, but the story below distracted me. I'll not say anything so I don't spoil it for anyone.

I'm thinking about writing something about a Fremen Tok'ra named Aldwin/Khala. I'll post it if it doesn't apply to my friend's story.
(Thought I'd share a bit of a byte of inspiration.)


A brown-haired woman of average height stooped to enter her white 1991 Ford. As she slid in, she glanced at her watch. Ten thirty at night already, and she had an hour and a half drive ahead of her. She sighed. The visit with her parents had been pleasant enough, but she couldn't wait to get back home to her husband and her dog.

As she pulled out of the driveway, she turned up the radio; a little rock music never hurt anything. She wondered if any news had come concerning the house. Shortly after moving in, she and her husband had realized that it was too big for the two of them. When it bothered them too much, they had decided to put it on the market.

She barely saw the swerving car coming her way with its lights off.

The impact threw her forward, slamming her short-haired head into the steering wheel and blowing the horn. For the first couple minutes, she lay there unconscious.

Darkness. Pain. Wet. A flashing light. A glimpse of the interior of an ambulence, faces. Darkness.

**********

The woman cracked open her eyes. All she saw was a white ceiling with hanging florescent lights.

A face appeared over hers in something reminiscent of a blue hazmat suit. The face glanced to the woman's left then back to her. "Hello," he greeted softly. "If you can hear me, move your toes."

She lay there a moment, her muscles in a kind of trance where it seemed that moving one would upset the perfect balance achieved in the others.

"Just admit it, Tom," a female voice chimed from across the room. "They're all still dead. The eyelids were only a muscle spasm."

"I don't think so, Judy. This one looks alive."

"So do msot of the toy animals for sale at Super*Mart."

The woman twitched her toes. It felt good, so she cracked them. That got their attention. Presently, she tried to pull herself up into a sitting position, but the doctor she could see gently held her shoulders down. "Don't move yet. Can you speak?"

She frowned and rasped, "Of course." It hurt to talk, so instead of elaborating, she looked around the room. One other blue hazmat person stood to her left. The floor was grey tile, and pine cabinets lined the walls above and below dark blue countertops. As far as she could tell, only a single, heavy, pine door led out of the room. Various maschines were attached to her, half of which she couldn't identify.

"What's your name?" asked the first person, Tom.

"Anita Mario Acto--Strauss," she answered, remembering that she had recently married.

"Should we tell her now?" Judy, the second doctor, questioned.

"No. Let's wait until later," Tom replied, his tone heavier than before. "When were you born?"

Anita felt as though her heart had stopped. "Did something happen to John? Is he okay?"

He shook his head. "We'll answer all your questions later." He turned to his assistant. "Judy, will you please check her vitals, make sure she's stable?" She nodded and got to work.

"Please, if something happened to John, I need to know. Is he okay?" Anita begged frantically.

"We'll explain everything later," he promised again. "When's your birthday?"

She sighed, appearing to hold back tears. "June fourth, 1977."

The doctors' jaws fell agape for a few seconds until smiles emerged. "1977," Tom repeated. "Amazing."