tilius--Thank you.
ancient lantean--I admit I borrowed a lot of his abilities from the Dark Forces and Jedi Knigh games. When playing Kyle or even Jaden Corr in Jedi Academy I also have Force lightning even if I go light side. It's handy to have. And the Asgard--I think they're so repulsed by violence and their cloning has so far removed their biological origins that they've lost the ability to think aggressively.
Jedi Master Sabbath--Thank you, I'm glad that's working for you. And yes, sooner or later we'll see Krayt, Talon, and probably Cade and Wolf. (Much later, for some of them.)
Well, thanks you three for reading and reviewing. I appreciate it. This story is definitely outside the norm of Star Wars. In fact, I'm willing to bet Roswell fans would like it as much as any. But it is still a fun read. I hope.
Enjoy!
Chapter 7: A Master of English
Roswell, New Mexico, Friday, January 18, 2002, 9:45 a.m. MST
Special Agents Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and John Doggett sat in a booth at the Crashdown Café in Roswell, New Mexico, speaking over coffee and the remains of three plates of flying saucers, also known as pancakes.
"I can't believe I never ate here before," Mulder was saying as he once more perused the menu. "I've been in New Mexico at least five times, and two of them were to right here in Roswell, but I've never been here. This place is tailor-made for me."
"Yeah, it serves lots of fruits and nutcakes," Doggett said. It was difficult even for Mulder to tell if Doggett was joking or not.
"We have the written witness statements from the first responders," Mulder said, deciding on middle ground. "I'm pretty sure that we can assume John Love and Margarita Salt are aliases. So the obvious place to start is the third name on the list—Carlos Guevara. Maybe he can give us a description of the other two."
"Agent Duff in DC also mentioned Valenti when I spoke to her about Roswell," Scully said. "I called the sheriff's department and they said Valenti was terminated after a State Board of Police inquiry. Duff thought he was protecting someone but wouldn't say who. We could look over Valenti's last few cases for any common faces."
"It's as good a place as any," Doggett said.
Just then the owner of the café himself walked by with a fresh pot of coffee. "I hope everything tasted good," he said with a genial smile.
"Very good," Mulder said. "Thank you." He sipped the coffee black and hot. "Say, do you know Jim Valenti?"
The owner studied the three and grinned. "Yeah, he's a good friend of mine. You three must be here because of that crash up at Fort Sumner," he surmised. "Business has been booming since then."
Doggett coughed, but Mulder merely grinned. "I'll bet. Want to add anything to the initial investigation?"
"Only if it gets the Crashdown's name in the papers," Jeff Parker said with a smile. "I can always use more business."
Mulder chuckled, which Scully long ago realized was as close to a real laugh as he usually came. They paid their tickets and stepped into the brisk January air. The cold was sufficient for their breaths to puff without being truly freezing. Still, for agents accustomed to working on the East Coast, the weather was relatively pleasant.
"So, does anyone find it interesting that Tennenbaum linked himself with the NID and Special Unit agents and pretty much left us and the NSA folks completely out of his notice?" Mulder asked as they walked down the sidewalk. "We have no idea what he's doing right now, or if he's following up on the same leads."
"You're saying that as if it is a bad thing," Scully said. "Frankly, it seems a waste of time for us to even be here. Lake Sumner is over 80 miles away. I don't care what the pilot of the craft is, it's not going to travel 80 miles on foot in the course of a single night. Has it even been twelve hours since the crash?"
"There's more going on than Tennenbaum wants us to know," Doggett growled. "He brought everyone to Roswell because he thinks there's something here to find."
"Our job is to find out what," Mulder said. He stretched. "So who wants to talk to Mr. Guevara, and who wants to talk to Valenti?"
"This Guevara guy, I saw from the statement he's former military," Doggett said. "Did time in the Persian Gulf. I might be able to get a little more out of him."
"Sounds good," Mulder agreed. "Scully and I will tackle our reticent former sheriff. Keep in touch, and let's keep tabs on any other spooks we run across. I'd love to know what Tennenbaum is doing."
Their cell phones all beeped at once, drawing more than a few stares from the other pedestrians. They pulled their phones out and read the text message: "Bodies found in Fort Sumner with wounds matching first response team. Tennenbaum en route with personal team. All remaining agents continue working in Roswell."
"Well," Scully said with a dour smile reserved only for homicide detectives and FBI agents, "at least we know what Tennenbaum is doing."
Mulder flipped his phone closed and shook his head. "So why are we in Roswell?"
Scully shrugged. "Maybe there's more than one alien on the run."
Across town, Isabel drove up to her parents' house and climbed out of her car. A moment later, Siana Delun followed, confused and hesitant. Isabel held out a hand and smiled. "It's okay, these are the people who raised me," Isabel explained.
"Okay," Siana said in English. She tried her best to summon a smile.
Isabel rang the doorbell to let her mother know she was there and then stepped inside. "Mom?"
"In the kitchen," came her mother's reply.
Isabel led Siana through the house until they saw a woman in her late forties or early fifties standing over a bubbling pot of water. "Hello, sweetie," her mother said. "Who's your friend?" Siana actually understood the mother through Isabel's mind, and felt thankful for the other woman's presence.
"This is Siana Delun," Isabel introduced.
Siana raised her hand and said, "Hiyee."
Diane blinked. "Umm, hello."
"She's a foreign exchange student on campus," Isabel explained. "There was a mix-up and she arrived before classes started. There wasn't a dorm available and you know Jesse and I don't have any furniture in our guestroom yet. Since I was her mentor, I was wondering if you'd be willing to let Siana stay here for a few days while we figure everything out on campus."
Diane smiled. "Why of course, honey, we'll be glad to have her. The house has been so empty since you moved out and with Max…" She purposely stopped, then left her boiling pot and took Siana's hands. Siana stifled an urge to bolt and instead held her ground.
"Siana, you are welcome to stay here as long as you need," Diane Evans said.
"Zank Uouou," Siana said, returning a smile that was as much grimace as anything.
Isabelsaid "Mother, that's about all the English she knows. Can I show her around?"
Diane nodded. "Of course, dear."
The two young ladies left. "I told her you were an exchange student from another country," Isabel said. "That'll explain the language problem."
"You have multiple languages on this world?"
"Hundreds."
Siana stared, dumfounded. "How odd," was all she could think to say.
Isabel showed Siana her old bedroom, still filled with many of her things she had not had a chance to take to her home with Jesse. Siana walked into the room and looked around with interest. Eventually, her eyes fell on an old, thick book that showed no signs of ever being opened. "What is that?"
"A dictionary," Isabel explained. She grabbed it and opened it up. "I think I used it twice. It is a book of words and what they mean, and how to say them." She looked up at Siana. "This is just what you need." She stepped past her guest, opened her closet, and began pulling out old boxes, until she emerged with one from the top shelf. She opened it up to reveal old papers and books from throughout her school history. She pulled out stacks of papers and books until she found the one she wanted. "My elementary grade speller," she said. She leafed through it until she found the page she wanted. "I kept this because it was the first time I got an A++."
She laid the book on the bed. "These are the letters of the English alphabet. English is our native language." She went through pronouncing every letter. "There are lots of exceptions and rules, but knowing the alphabet and a few words may help. You know how to say 'Hello', so let's look that up." Isabel showed her the pronunciation guide, spelling, and meaning, reading it aloud for Siana since the words of the definition itself had little meaning.
Still, Siana quickly realized the book would be a great boon.
"I will study it closely," Siana said. "I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done. I hope I can repay you some day."
"Maybe you can, maybe not," Isabel said. "For now, just take it easy and try not to let my mom spook you too bad. She is a wonderful person."
"I know," Siana said. "I feel it in her. She is also very concerned for Max. Was there a fight between them?"
"It's a long, painful story," Isabel said. "Teenage drama on Earth."
Siana smiled, remembering the scandal her mother caused by marrying a Baroli man so young, or her grandmother's initial disappointment when that tell-tale Baroli blue hair passed on squarely to Siana. "It is not just on Earth."
Isabel laughed. "Good to know. Look, my mother knows my cell phone, so if you need to talk to me, tell her to call me. Okay?"
"Okay."
Isabel gave the alien girl a tight hug. "I've got to run. We need to keep things as normal looking as possible. We have a three day weekend coming up, though, so that should give us some time to get things straightened out. Remember, call me if you need anything."
Siana promised and then watched as Isabel left. She was wearing one of Isabel's dresses, since the two were close in size, and the odd fabric and undergarments felt strange against her skin. Still, she realized she could not wear her Jedi padawan robes in this place. The only thing she kept was her lightsaber, which she clipped on her thigh using a quickly fashioned garter belt.
Once alone, she sat cross-legged on the bed and stared down at the elementary speller book and the dictionary. She recalled the letters and said them aloud, accustoming her tongue to the odd-sounding letters. She then opened the dictionary and began pouring over the mysterious text.
The Jedi Praxeum was more than just a place to learn the arts of the Jedi. Because of the number of young children taken in by the order, it was also a school. The first thing a Jedi initiate was taught was how to learn. Those without the benefit of modern education techniques might not appreciate what that really meant. While some worlds favored direct neural interfacing to download knowledge directly into their brains, while others struggled on with the same decrepit educational approach used for centuries of rote memorization without understanding, the Jedi's first mission was shaping the mind itself into an open receptacle capable of receiving and understanding new information.
Siana memorized every letter of every word individually, since she did not have the words themselves. She did this by saying each letter and putting it into a mental sub-folder under languages. It was a technique created by the Jedi, and was the primary reason she knew thirty languages already, even though she was only a teenager.
The more letters and words she absorbed, the more connections she began to make, as she would see a word she had just read referenced in the definition of another word. It was a puzzle, and as she speed-read through each page, absorbing information with astonishing speed, she began to understand basic word structures. She put these structures together with the speech she heard around her, from those who rescued her to Diane Evans downstairs, and made still more connections.
Using nothing more than a 1996 edition of the Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, Siana Delun began learning the English language.
By the time Diane Evans called her down for lunch, she knew what the word "lunch" meant, even if she did not have the smell to inform her of its meaning. Her stomach growled and she gladly went downstairs.
The meal was not identifiable to Siana, but nonetheless tasted good to a young woman who could not remember her last meal. "So, Siana," Diane asked. "Where are you from?"
Without Isabel there to act as a translator, Siana had to piece together meaning on her own. Fortunately, she had made it past "G" in the dictionary and knew the word "from". "Greek," she said. "I yam Greek."
"You're from Greece?" Diane asked. "Oh, how wonderful! You do have a little bit of a Mediterranean complexion. I bet those Greek men were sad to see you go!"
Siana understood perhaps two words and smiled. "Yes," she said, nodding.
Diane laughed, and then relieved Siana of the need to talk any more by filling the silence admirably on her own for the next two hours. By the time they were finished and Siana was free to go back to her room, the young padawan felt as if she had just gone through her trials. But after two hours of listening to non-stop English, coupled with the words she had already absorbed, Siana knew she was on her way to mastering the language.
Daniel sat in the seat of the alien space craft and stared at the strange script. He had already photographed and recorded every symbol found in the entire ship, from obvious warnings to watch your head to more esoteric writings for mysterious buttons.
Around him, the finest engineers and technicians the country had to offer were studying every aspect of the ship, trying to take as detailed notes as possible before the final step of dismantling everything. Not surprisingly, Major Carter was in the back with Dr. Janeway, studying the propulsion systems.
Part of what bothered Daniel was that he was the only linguistics person there. He admitted without false modesty that he was the best and most experienced not just in spoken languages, but in long dead writing systems as well, but he was the only one. The study of xenolinguistics was only a few years old, but he knew of at least three other specialists out of Area 51 who should have been there assisting him.
For some reason, the NID kept them out. Not only that, but he sensed from Woolsey over the course of their commute that even he was not entirely welcome. It was as if they didn't actually want the language deciphered.
That meant a lot; Daniel just wasn't exactly sure what.
What he did know was that the script on the dashboard bore an uncanny resemblance not only to several Norse runes, but it also bore at least a passing similarity to the written language of the Ancients encountered across the galaxy. If he had to place bets without actually hearing the language spoken, it would be that he was staring at a direct descendent of the Ancient written language.
Based on that, and the fact that the seat he rested in was actually very comfortable, Daniel suspected the alien pilot to either look, or actually be, human.
He stepped out of the shuttle with his notes and recording equipment and went in search of Colonel Green. He found the colonel in a large second-story corner office looking over the hangar. A young corporal sat in ananteroom to the colonel, although Green's door was open and Daniel could see the man inside.
"Can I help you, sir?" the aide asked.
"Yes, I was hoping to talk to Colonel Green."
"Send him in, Aileen," Green called from his office without looking up.
Aileen smiled nervously and nodded for Jackson to go in. Only when Daniel was standing at the colonel's desk did Green look up. "So, you're Jackson, that Air Force linguist. I looked over your file and was surprised by your security clearance and the number of blacked-out segments. You've even been declared dead. What have you been doing for the Air Force these past few years?"
"Oh, this and that," Daniel said with what he hoped was a disarming smile.
Evidently, it was not as disarming as he hoped. "Fine," Green said. "What do you want, doctor?"
Daniel cleared his throat. "I would like to join the investigators in Roswell. I think the key to understanding this ship, what it does and what it's doing here lies in finding the pilot. And I believe that pilot is either a human, or at least humanoid. And I think I would have a fairly good chance of identifying it."
Green studied Jackson for the longest time. "Doctor, I do not have full autonomy over this operation. There are many forces at play, and I am doing my best to stay out of their way. Rest assured, even if I were inclined to grant your request, which I am not, I could not. There are standing orders to completely segregate the two sides of this operation. This is as much for your safety as ours. From what I understand, civilian bodies have now been found both at Lake Sumner and now in the town of Fort Sumner itself. Now, if there is nothing else, please return to your duties."
It was as rude a dismissal as Jackson had received since working for the government. With a shrug, he turned and left the office. Aileen sat quietly at an empty desk and watched him as if wishing she could leave as well.
He returned to the ship in the hangar and found Sam right where he left her. "Hey, have a sec?"
"Sure," Sam said without looking up from the lap-top she had wired into an open panel of the ship.
"To stand, join me, and talk?" Daniel added.
"Yeah, just a second," Sam said absently. "Okay, Shannon, try it now!"
Suddenly the laptop flared and exploded. Sam dropped the device with a whistle. "Okay, that's enough," she said to the invisible Dr. Janeway. She turned to Daniel and grinned. "That's our third laptop. Whatever this thing uses to send data, it's a pretty intense signal. So, what can I do for you?"
Daniel motioned for her to join him and the two walked through the body of the shuttle to the cockpit, where for the moment they had a modicum of privacy.
"I just asked Colonel Green if I could join the spooks in Roswell."
"And?"
"He said no. He said there were other forces at play, and the two halves were to remain segregated. What bothers me, though, is that the pilot is the greatest key we have to deciphering this language."
Sam nodded. "So you haven't made any progress?"
"I have," Daniel said softly. "And that's what bothers me. Sam, I'm sure this language is a linguistic descendent of written Ancient. Between that and the layout of this ship I'd bet the pilot is either human or near-human. So, why bring in all the agents? We've had foothold situations before, why such massive mobilization for a single alien?"
Sam shrugged. "You know, this has been a strange situation. Agent Bennett from the NID isn't here, but Woolsey is. And why the FBI? When has the FBI ever been involved in a First Encounter situation? This should be solely a Stargate Command situation."
"Exactly!" Daniel said. "The wrong people are in charge. It makes me want to know all the more why we're not allowed to talk to the agents doing the manhunt."
"We're not allowed to talk to anyone," Samantha said. "They even confiscated our cell phones. And the two times I tried calling Stargate Command the base operator was unable to connect."
"You need a cell phone?" an unfamiliar voice said.
The two looked up to see a woman in her fifties with blonde hair going gray, but a body that spoke of care and conditioning. "Helen Swanson," the woman introduced herself. She pulled a cell phone out of her lab coat pocket. "I guess they forgot to get mine. Hope I'm not in trouble about it. But I wouldn't mind loaning it to you if you need it."
Daniel accepted the phone. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Roberta said with a cheerful smile. "See you around, since we don't seem to be going anywhere." She turned and walked back out of the shuttle.
"Who is she?" Daniel asked.
"She's someone in engineering," Carter said. "Civilian. Didn't read too much about her." She looked at the phone. "Daniel, I'm not really thrilled about the lockdown either, but you could really get into some hot water if you break operational silence."
"By calling General Hammond and asking for some notes?" Daniel asked, blinking owlishly behind his glasses.
"Is that what you're going to say?"
"Mostly," Daniel said with a smug grin.
