Published for December 15th, in atlantis_des_etoiles Stargate-themed Advent calendar
Benoît was tense. Not really worried, but stressed. Let's be said that participating in a special advanced astrophysics course, part of a top-secret governmental project for interplanetary agreement, especially when you are only eighteen, was a first. For him as for his nine classmates, all handpicked among the best students of Swiss nationality studying at EPFL.
Especially, what created the atmosphere of feverish waiting in this tiny seminar room, was the origin of their future teacher: an extraterrestrial. A real one.
The door slammed open and, in a flight of leather cloak, their teacher stepped forward to the front table. He then turned to face them, and everyone in the room held their breath. He was tall, almost two meters in height, his skin pale green, his long snow-colored hair held in a simple ponytail, and iridescent golden eyes staring at the humans with supernatural intensity. His angular face was distorted by a grimace of discontent, almost of disdain, revealing sharp, translucent teeth.
"Let us be clear, humans: I'm not here to be friendly or to popularize the wonderful science that is astrophysics. I am here to teach you. I will immerse you in equations that few of your kind have ever considered. I will expose you to concepts that go beyond your limited understanding. And if, as your leaders seem to believe, you have what it takes, you will leave this year of course with the knowledge that will make you the first space engineers in this country able to plan an intergalactic trip. My name does not matter, but if you have to refer to me, it will be under the terms "Professor", "Master" or, in a word, "Sir". For now, am I clear?"
Past the amazement and (to a lesser extent) the vexing side of this introduction, all in the room nodded. Benoît was no longer simply stressed; he was terrified. Something in the appearance - no, in the attitude - of this "teacher" made him feel like a fawn facing a hungry wolf. Like a prey.
"Well. One last word: until you prove otherwise, I will not consider you anything more than larvae - children, unable to grasp what I will tell you, unable to grasp the complex beauty and the immovable perfection of the equations and concepts that allow a ship to jump beyond the speed of light. Although I have agreed to give this course for the sake of our recent alliance, I did not at first judge your race worthy of this knowledge. You humans are inconsistent, voluble, too easily distracted by your pitiful lifespan to really deepen your knowledge. After half a century, you decline, or die. You are a spark, the blink of an eye on the scale of the Universe."
The Wraith's smile changed imperceptibly; his haughtiness diminished, and something like amusement fell below.
"Nevertheless, your kindred did something that never happened to me: they surprised me. I happened to work with humans who, in five years, mastered formulas that our own engineers take a hundred years to perfect. I rubbed shoulders with scientists who, aware of their mortality, have yet spent the entirety of their brief lives developing a future for other humans they would never know. You are a species which, in spite of the brevity and fragility of its existence, is entirely turned towards the future. A way that my race has forgotten. And that, as a scientist, I feel it is necessary we relearn."
Then, and despite the lord-like attitude of the alien, Benoît was certain that his smirk was no longer disdainful or distant.
"Do not misunderstand me; if I have accepted to teach you what I know, it is only because I also mean to appropriate certain... knowledge. At your side."
The atmosphere of the room relaxed slightly.