AN ORDINARY GIRL: A STORY IN THREE PARTS

PART 1: ADVENTURES ON PLANET MAX (a.k.a. PX5 452)

(Author's note: This story is derived from a dream I had in 2008 and takes place in that calendar year.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything connected to it. It belongs to its respective owners and creators. Didina Steadman, her friends and family and the Chak-tuk belong to me. Please do not use them without permission.

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTIONS

Thirty-three-year-old Didina Steadman—clad in white denim jeans, a royal blue V-neck shirt, and dark brown leather sandals, with a bracelet watch of polished silver chrome and brass on her left wrist and a white "scrunchy" in her hair—removed her keys from her purse and prepared to unlock her car door. Just as the 5′ 2½″ woman with pale blue eyes and yellow-blond hair was about to insert the key into the lock, she felt a sharp prick on the tip of her thumb. "Ow!" she exclaimed. "What the . . .?" A small bead of blood appeared. As humans are apt to do when pricked, she raised the injured area to her mouth. At that moment, everything went dark. . ..

"Hey guys," a soft, pleasant, male voice was saying from what seemed to be a few feet away, "it looks like she's coming to."

Another male voice said, "Carter . . ."

As Didina Steadman slowly opened her eyes, she saw a tall, attractive blonde woman with hazel eyes and a bright smile bending down and looking at her. "Hi. I'm Colonel Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force. You can call me 'Sam.' And you are?"

"Didina Steadman," she replied, sitting up slowly, "but everyone calls me 'Didi' or 'Dee.'"

"How're you feeling?" Sam asked her.

"Okay, I guess—just a little lightheaded, maybe." Didi surveyed the sparsely furnished room . . . "sparsely furnished" being a polite way of saying that there was a sink or wash basin of some sort on the wall directly across from the door, and something that resembled a toilet in the corner nearest the sink. The floor was pure white and consisted entirely of material similar to that used in the making of certain wrestling or gymnastics mats. "What is this place and how did I get here?" Didi queried.

Sam said, "Basically, this is a prison cell. As to how you got here . . . we were kind of hoping you could tell us. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was putting my key into the door to unlock my car," said Didi, "and I pricked my thumb—which is really weird, because I have no idea what I pricked it on. Anyway, I was just about to stick my thumb in my mouth to suck off the blood, when, suddenly, everything went . . . black."

"You mean, you passed out?" Sam asked.

Didi shook her head, then grabbed it and groaned. "(Oh! I guess I'm a bit more lightheaded than I thought.) No. I've passed out before, and it wasn't like that," she said in answer to Sam's query.

"Hm." Sam looked contemplative. "That is strange . . . I wonder . . ."

"Well, while you're wondering, Samantha, I'm going to continue the introductions," said another woman, approaching Didi. "Hi, I'm Vala Mal Doran." The woman named Vala had brown eyes; a mole on her left upper cheekbone; pointed facial features; dark hair, set in pigtails, with a wide streak of artificially-blond hair in front that almost appeared to grow out of her right-side part; and what sounded to Didi like a British accent. "The big guy," she said (indicating a tall, muscular black man who had a strange symbol of some kind that appeared to be branded into his forehead), "is Teal'c. He's a Jaffa."

"Hi," said Didi softly, trying to smile. Teal'c, who appeared to have a few days' growth of beard, bowed his head slightly, saying nothing.

The other two men in the room then drew near. One of them approached Didi, wrapped his hand firmly around her lower arm and said, "Here, take hold of my arm." Didi anchored her hand around the man's arm, as instructed, and he helped her to her feet. Col. Carter steadied her until she got her balance. Once Didi was fully upright, the man who had helped her up introduced himself as "Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force."

Col. Mitchell had light brown hair, deep-set blue eyes, a somewhat pointed chin, and an engaging smile that included a pair of barely-there dimples. He, too, was badly in need of a shave.

He had a voice that, in a woman, would have been called "sultry." It was not a voice that would lend itself well to singing, but when he spoke to Didi, he got her full attention. "Are you all right?" he asked. His eyes gazed into Didi's searchingly. What he might be looking for in her eyes, she couldn't begin to fathom.

Didi nodded, then grabbed her head again, almost swaying on her feet.

"Guess not," Col. Mitchell commented, clutching her arm and steadying her. "Take it easy. You've been unconscious ever since they brought you here, and that was . . .what—?" he queried, looking at his colleagues, "—two, three hours ago?"

"It has been approximately two hours and forty-seven minutes since Gor-lak brought Ms. Steadman here," Teal'c said.

Col. Mitchell shrugged. "Like I said, two, three hours ago . . . So, where were you when you lost consciousness?"

"The parking lot of the post office. I had just finished filling the postage meter for my boss."

"She's definitely from Earth, then," said the other man, who was standing close by. He appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties, with dark brown hair; blue eyes that were somewhat hidden behind a pair of wire-framed glasses; and a well-proportioned oval face that, like Col. Mitchell's and Teal'c's, needed a shave. "Hi," he said, smiling a bit obscurely as he approached her. "I'm Daniel Jackson . . . uh, 'Daniel' to you."

"Hi," Didi said again.

In a matter of minutes, Didi had met five people who were wearing identical outfits—apparently some sort of military garb, although only Samantha Carter and Cameron Mitchell had admitted to any rank. Nonetheless, all five had patches on their shoulders that seemed to be some kind of unit insignia.

"Daniel," she queried, "what did you mean when you said that I'm definitely from Earth? Where else would I be from? What is this place? Colonel Carter said it's a prison cell, but . . . where? And who are you guys?"

"That's kind of hard to explain," answered Daniel.

"We're space travelers," said Vala Mal Doran. "We came—"

"We came to this planet," Col. Mitchell interrupted, "—which has been designated PX5 452, but which I call 'Max'—as peaceful explorers but were taken captive by the Chak-tuk. They're the native inhabitants of this world and they are not . . . pleasant . . . people."

"You mean . . . this is an alien world?" Didi asked incredulously.

"Afraid so," said Col. Mitchell.

"But, how is that possible?" Didi asked.

"Just take a look around you," said Col. Mitchell, pointing at the strange-looking toilet-like structure. "Have you ever seen anything like that before?"

Didi shook her head—more slowly this time—and sank back onto the floor. "No, I haven't," she said disheartenedly. "I guess I have no choice but to believe you." She looked back up at Col. Mitchell. "So, how long have you been here? I ask because . . . you guys look awful. And you smell—especially you, Colonel Mitchell. Sorry. No offense . . .."

"None taken," Colonel Mitchell replied, backing away from Didi to avoid offending her olfactory glands any further. "We've been here for about five days, give or take a few hours. Like you, we were unconscious part of the time, so we're not entirely sure. I apologize for my awful smell, but . . . although the others were given the opportunity to shower—albeit a few days ago—I haven't had that privilege yet, and I'm afraid it's completely out of my control."

"Five days, with nothing but a padded floor, a sink and a . . . really weird-looking toilet."

"We've been in worse," Col. Mitchell said. "As weird-looking as it is, at least we have a toilet."

"Indeed," interjected Teal'c. "Wooden cages and cold stone dungeons, with nothing but straw for bedding, are far worse accommodations than this room."

"That's not really the point, though, is it guys?" Daniel asked. "This is all new to Ms. Steadman. We do this sort of thing all the time—for a living, no less. She doesn't. Let's not lose sight of that fact. Instead, let's try to be a little bit more sympathetic and understanding, shall we?"

"I'm sorry if I sounded callous," apologized Col. Mitchell. "I didn't mean to be."

Teal'c bowed slightly. "My apologies also, Ms. Steadman, if I seemed . . . unsympathetic. It was not my intention."

Didi nodded wordlessly, her eyes accepting their apologies on her behalf.

"Look, Ms. Steadman—"

"Please, Colonel Mitchell," she said, "—call me 'Dee' or 'Didi.'"

"All right, and you can call me 'Cam.'" He was smiling slightly; Didi thought it was a really nice smile. "As I was saying . . . Didi . . . I know this is a lot to take in, but . . . wherever you're from, you gotta understand that the Chak-tuk mean serious business. We haven't figured out exactly what that business is yet, but we're pretty sure we're not here to participate in their version of the Olympic Games."

"Oh, I don't know," said Daniel. "In some ways, the events seem similar to—"

"Are you out of your mind, Jackson?" Cam asked. "They execute any losers who are still alive after their battle is over and give a female as a prize to the winners! —among the natives, anyway. I've never seen that happen at any Olympic games I've ever been to, and I don't recall reading that they did those things during ancient times, either."

"Actually, evidence has come to light that might suggest that—"

"Now is not the time for a history lesson, Daniel," said Vala, taking him by the arm. She looked at him as though she were quite attached to him.

"No; right. I'm sorry." He looked at Cam. "You were saying?"

Addressing his comrades, Col. Mitchell stated, "I'm just saying that, if things don't go right in my event, we could all wind up getting skewered!"

He then looked directly at Didi and said, "Both of the other guys and each of the ladies have participated in an event together. Colonel Carter was paired with Teal'c on Saturday, and Vala was with Dr. Jackson on Sunday. We think the pairings had something to do with the bonds they have between them. Sam and Teal'c have known each other for a lot of years; they've saved each other's lives more often than any of us can remember. They care about and respect each other a great deal. Dr. Jackson and Vala have something of a history together, too, although not as long-standing as the one between Sam and Teal'c. Still, they've shared some . . . very interesting experiences that forged a bond of sorts between them."

Daniel spoke up and said, "Teal'c and I—each in turn—were put into one-on-one combat situations against Chak-tuk warriors. Our respective female companions were seated on the floor of the arena with their hands tied behind their backs and additional bindings around their knees and ankles. If Teal'c and I had lost our fights, the ladies might very well have been given to our opponents as prizes. That's the way it works around here—among the natives, anyway, as Colonel Mitchell said."

Fear was evident on Didi's face and she gulped. "Is that why I'm here? Am I supposed to go into this . . . arena with one of you guys?" she asked.

"Very probably," said Col. Mitchell, "and I suspect it's going to be with me, since the other two guys have already had their turns."

"But, why me?"

"I think there're probably two reasons why they brought you here," said Cam. "The first is undoubtedly because there's no one left to go into the arena with me, and they're not going to take a chance on sending Sam or Vala in again."

"Why? What happened?" Didi queried.

"Generally," said Daniel Jackson, "male Chak-tuk warriors fight for their mates. Females are not allowed to participate in the arena. Their sole purpose is to inspire the males to fight harder to win—an added incentive above that of merely staying alive. Problem is, we didn't know that going into the arena. Sam has military training, and Vala . . . well . . . Vala has street smarts and a rather . . . mercenary background. They wanted to help."

Said Sam, "We didn't know until after both battles were over that what we'd done was forbidden. Vala and I are both fighters. We couldn't just sit there and watch our friends face life-threatening danger alone."

"How did you get out of your bonds?" Didi queried.

"We, uh, cut them out," said Daniel sheepishly, "because they begged us to. We were perfectly willing—and able—to fight the Chak-tuk warriors on our own. But the ladies insisted, so . . . we gave in and cut them loose. A bad mistake, as it turned out."

"Indeed," said Teal'c. "The Chak-tuk appeared to be extremely angry when the . . . 'events', as they call them, were over."

"Yes, and in spite of that," put in Daniel, "they've kept us alive . . . no doubt because they came to realize—after a certain amount of rumination—that we didn't know or understand the rules."

"Which brings us," said Col. Mitchell, "to the second reason you were probably brought here: you're a regular girl—no military training or combat experience of any kind. You won't be begging me to cut you loose so you can help me fight." He looked down at Didi pleadingly. "You won't will you?"

Didi shook her head. "I couldn't fight if I wanted to. Like you said, I'm just a regular girl. I work in an optometrist's office in Topeka. I've never had any kind of combat or martial arts training . . . not even simple self-defense classes."

"Good!" said Cam. "Maybe I'll be able to . . . Wait a minute! Did you say . . .?"

"Yes, Cam, she did," Col. Carter confirmed. "She said 'Topeka.'"

Col. Mitchell's face lit up. "Small world!"

"You mean, you're from Topeka, too?" Didi asked, standing up again—this time without help.

"No, but I am from Kansas—and not that far away from Topeka, either. I grew up in Auburn."

"Awesome! So . . . how'd you end up on an alien world?" Didi asked.

"It's a long story," said Cam, "and part of it's classified." He looked at his companions questioningly. While Didi was unconscious, the team had debated the issue of whether or not to tell Didi exactly who they were and how they had come to be on this planet—if it turned out that she was from Earth. Daniel had pointed out that, if and when they were rescued, they'd be taking her with them. That being the case, she'd find out everything then, anyway, so they might as well tell her. They had also decided that conversing with her might help put her more at ease and keep her from going into hysterics. So far it was working.

"As I said," Daniel reminded Cam, "she's definitely from Earth. When we go, she goes."

"Okay," Cam said with a sigh. He then looked at Didi, his stance firm, his arms folded in front of him, his eyes steady and unflinching. "We came here through a device called a 'Stargate.' It's located underground, at Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs."

"NORAD?"

Cam nodded. "Yeah, in the same complex."

"Not that it's relevant, but I have a cousin in Colorado Springs," said Didi. "He's an optometrist and is opening his own office there soon. He's asked me to come and work for him. I was planning to move at the end of the month." She shrugged. "A change of climate, a change of scenery, a change of . . . everything." She looked at the group. "Believe me," she said, "I need a change."

"Everybody does at some point in their life," said Cam. "Maybe we can help you move in."

"Indeed," said Teal'c.

"Wow! That'd be great!" said Didi. "So, how does the—wha'd'ya call it? —Stargate? —work?"

Sam stepped up again and explained the technical side of the Stargate's operations, doing her best to put it into terms that Didi could understand. Everyone pitched in with information about the DHDs and the use of MALPs for reconnaissance.

"So, how did you end up getting captured? Didn't the MALP show you any hostile aliens?"

"As a matter of fact," Cam replied, "no, it didn't."

"We have since learned," put in Daniel, "that the Chak-tuk have some very advanced technology, which apparently enabled them to either deceive the MALP's sensors or to falsify the information it sent back through the 'gate. Either way, we didn't know until we got here that there were any aliens at all on this planet, never mind hostile ones. And I'm not entirely sure their intentions are hostile: after all, they haven't killed us out of hand."

"No, they're just toying with us," Cam said in disgruntlement, "and that's worse."

"So, what do these 'Chak-tuk' look like?" Didi wanted to know.

"They look like a cross between the Predator alien and an Unas," said Vala, "except that their hair is white and wispy . . . like that of a Wraith—but not as long."

"I've seen Predator. But what's an Unas? —and a wraith? —like in . . . folklore?"

"The Unas . . . yes," said Daniel, who knew one particular Unas quite well. "They're a primitive species—tough and scaly . . . reptilian . . . but they're learning and developing at an amazing rate."

"The Wraith," said Sam, "are creatures in the Pegasus galaxy who suck the life out of people with their hands. It's a horrible way to die. But, yes, most of them have long, white wispy hair, as Vala said."

"They sound as awful as the ones in folklore," said Didi. "I wouldn't want to meet one. . . So, tell me more about the Chak-tuk," she requested, looking at all five faces in turn.

Col. Mitchell sighed and looked at Daniel. "Jackson . . ." he said. Then, looking at Didi, he explained, "Dr. Jackson is our linguistic and cultural expert—among other things."

"What are you a doctor of?" Didi asked Daniel.

"Anthropology, archaeology and philology—uh, languages . . . mostly written," Daniel replied.

"At last count, he was up to twenty-seven different languages," said Sam, with evident pride in her colleague's accomplishments, "—many of them of alien origin."

"Right now, I'm working on twenty-eight."

"He's trying to learn Chak-tuk," Col. Carter commented.

"I asked for a book on Chak-tuk history, which Gor-lak—our 'keeper'—loaned to me, and I've been learning some really fascinating things. For instance, the word 'Chak-tuk' literally translates into 'God's chosen children.' The name they've given the planet is 'Com-chak-tuk'—home of God's chosen children."

"So, why do they think they're God's chosen children?" Didi queried.

"I bet it has something to do with that Power they possess," said Cam.

"Power?"

"Yeah," said Daniel. "Only the ones known as elders—such as Gor-lak—seem to possess the Power. At first, we thought that the rods they carry were the source of the Power, but from what I've been reading recently, the Power is inherent in the brains of the elders. The rods are merely a conduit through which they direct it."

Daniel was about to expound further on the subject of the Power of the Chak-tuk but was interrupted by the opening of the ponderously-heavy door of the cell. The alien face that appeared in the doorway elicited a cry of dismay and terror from Didi. Even though she had seen Predator, she was not completely prepared for the absolute hideousness of the visage that stood looking down at her. The alien was quite tall—even exceeding Teal'c by a couple of inches. Didi began to shake with fear, so Cam wrapped his arms around her from behind and hushed her. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered. "Just do what Gor-lak tells you to do and everything'll be okay."

Didi nodded and leaned heavily against Cam, afraid of collapsing onto the floor if she didn't.

The Chak-tuk elder was clad in a floor-length, long-sleeved, brace-necked robe that was made of a finely-woven white material so shiny it almost sparkled. The mouth of the creature did, indeed, resemble that of the Predator alien; and its skin appeared to be, as Daniel had said, tough and scaly. It was a greenish-brown in hue. The hair was, as Vala had stated, white, wispy, and about shoulder length.

In his clawed right "hand" the Chak-tuk held a rod—the very kind Daniel had just mentioned—which was made of some sort of burnished silvery metal. It appeared to be close to five feet long, about the thickness of a majorette's baton, and had a bulbous tip that resembled the bulbs on the larger type of outdoor Christmas lights. The bulb was whitish in color and completely opaque.

The voice of the Chak-tuk could only be described as guttural, which didn't surprise Didi one bit. While he was speaking, the bulb at the end of the rod glowed, and it appeared that his words were being translated into English and projected by the rod. "I have come to see how Miss Steadman is faring," the creature said. "She is awake, I see. That is good. How are you feeling, Miss Steadman?"

There was a lump the size of a plum in Didi's throat—which was severely dry—and her heart felt as though it was about to pound its way out of her chest. She stammered out an answer, nonetheless.

"I-I-I'm okay, I guess." She tried to swallow, but the dryness prevented it.

"Are Colonel Mitchell and his companions treating you well?"

She nodded. "Y-yes. They're really nice."

"Good. I am glad to hear it. Now, Colonel Mitchell, you and Miss Steadman will come," the rod enunciated, while the Chak-tuk elder simultaneously motioned for Cam and Didi to accompany him. "It looks like we're up, Didi," Cam whispered in her ear. "Just remember: sit tight—or stand still, as the case may be—and let me handle everything."

She nodded. "Yes, Cam; whatever you say."

Didi's knees were shaking so badly from trepidation she could hardly stand, never mind walk.

Nonetheless, Cam, of necessity, unwound his arms from around her and took her by the hand. "Okay, Gor-lak; let's go."