Chapter 9
Thoughts
"speech"
"Goa'uld speech"
SG SG SG SG SG SG SG
September 15th 1997, morning - Glastonbury
I ring in to find the cavern in relative quiet. It was emptied during my last visit, earlier in the week, but back then, hectic digging activities were going on all around. Now, Goblins are just sitting in groups – some eating, some telling stories, some training, and most playing various gambling games, moving around piles of what looks like Sickles and Knuts.
Not high-stack gamblers' than.
I easily locate Goldpick in his tent-office sipping tea and reading an old manuscript.
How ordinary.
"Ah, you're here on time – thank you." He rises to shake my hand. "We are quite done here. That's ours," he points at a medium size crate near his table. "That is yours," he points at a small one on top of it, with some regret. "Are you certain you won't prefer gold? Or any other currency?"
Naquadah! You can't blame a Goblin for trying.
"You were right – there was nothing new to find here. All the treasure was in the open, and was already sent to the bank. Naquadah deposits were located exactly where you predicted those to be. Excavated the side halls and dug all around, but there is nothing new to find, but the Naquadah lines, leading magic from the repository in the side wall, and all around the perimeter, and roof. You were right there too – better not touch it for as long as the magic flows."
And we're done. I'm helping the goblins out of the cavern and accompany them back to the bank. There I'm ushered into the manager's office, for few polite words – this was a quick, easy and pretty lucrative deal for all involved. I'm invited to visit this office with any new discoveries.
Smirk.
I repeat our offer for them to share information regarding old Naquadah finds, so we can try and locate new deposits for them, based on that information. Apparently, it's still in debate, and they will be in touch with us. Polite Handshakes are made all around, since we just jumped from being a nobody (me) or a moderately well-to-do, long-time client (Harry) to the top of the list.
Done!
September 15th, 1997 - Battersea Power Station
R got back to us with a short-list of potential locations, and one stood up above all others. The Battersea Power Station is as genius a place as can be.
Match that MIB!
R was going to dismiss it as too visible and for the huge work required, but Harry just saw it on the list, got this huge smile on his face and told us to leave it to him, and come back few days later.
The look on R's face when we came back still makes me laugh. First impression was a disappointment. Logical since the place looked just as it was before. R was going to say something about all the work needed, and the time wasted. Probably something about her having told us so.
As if telling us so ever worked…
Before she manages, Harry tells her that 'The headquarters of WIB can be found behind the green door, on the eastern wall, at the Battersea Power Station'. Did I ever tell you that watching people discovering the Fidelious is amusing?
Behind the green door awaits the pristine work floor of the old station. New retracing skylight Ceiling lets light in and keeps the cold and rain out. At the waterfront of the building there are few levels of offices, open both to the main work floor, and the amazing Thames view.
WIB goes for 'Women in Black', obviously – He's so loveable!
It takes R half a day to arrange for an industrial generator. Takes us half an hour to have it enclosed and silenced. We are open for business.
Surprising enough, our new hardened mobiles, can actually withstand our magic.
Interesting!
This is our first workday, here in our new offices, to go over R's initial short-list.
Her first name on the list was an American archaeologist and Egyptologer named Dr. Daniel Jackson. Apparently, he was good enough to reach his graduate degree at 20 but was later laughed out of the academia for theorizing that the great pyramids of Egypt were landing platforms for alien spacecraft.
ludicrous, right?
Just a second. If that small temple hid Precious – just how bloody huge are ships needing the great pyramids to land?!
"Jackson's the first name on any list I've got, with the warning, that he's 'out there'. Sadly, the chap has all but disappeared off the face of the earth. I've talked with a Dr. Beatrix Croft."
Harry and I look at each other in clear disgust.
R ignores us and continue with the information. "Lady Croft holds the earldom of Abingdon. Dr. for Archaeology at 26, Dr. for ancient cultures with focus on Egyptian and Mesopotamia kingdoms, at 29. Both from Cambridge. Countless digs around the world. Anecdote – Her mother was the inspiration for a popular video game. She'll be here tomorrow morning"
"She sounds great. Just her name is a letter away from that of our second least favourite person." Harry apologises.
"We have yet to introduce you to Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley – our partners. They are both mages. Experts in ancient languages, and archaeologists, of the 'tomb rider's type. We'll make sure you meet with them this week. Together they are probably more than we need".
"Next on our list?"
There are a couple of names on the Astrophysicists list. One bloke – a Canadian Dr. McKay, came in highly recommended, but was crossed off by R, after having talked with him over the phone, for being a total wanker. The other will be visiting tomorrow.
R says she will handle the engineering part till we're ready to expand.
We are uncertain about our needs from our Biologist. Do we need an emergency surgeon? A pure biologist? Virologist? We will certainly be in need of a xeno-biologist, but those are very few and far between on earth, these days.
Bollocks!
"Let's try and be pragmatic?" I offer. "I don't see any emergencies, in our immediate future. Even if so, we can probably use magic to save the day, and worse case scenario – we can Portkey the person to a hospital, Obliviate whom we need, and R can take care of administration, after the fact – as needed."
R agrees easily – "It's not like the MI5 isn't capable of emergency treatment."
"Our most pressing issue, right now, is finding a way for more people to use this bloody equipment. Probably through introducing Naquadah into our bloodstream. We need the kind of Doctor who is able to research and get this sorted."
A potion? Snape isn't getting near any of this or I'll kill the bastard myself.
R readily agrees again. "Internal medicine specialist? Haematologist? I'll look into it," she promises.
"This leaves us with our need for a computer science specialist. We actually have few coming for an interview today."
Not an easy task – First Bloke was probably brilliant – the kind of chap we really want to see in our program, but R couldn't manage to get him to dream a vision large enough. Second one, was the mirror opposite, full of vision and enthusiasm, but it has been for yonks since he had last typed lines of code. We were very enthusiastic about one of the women we interviewed, but she 'had to think about it'. Seems like 'Changing what we know of computing base technologies', is something said by every recruiter these days, and the offered pay in the industry is much higher than government one.
It was mid-afternoon when we met Calvin. He is working on his post, at Oxford, on unstructured databases. When we asked him to elaborate, he got all excited about algorithms, machine learning and neural networks, he's working on researching. About a group, he joined, laying early plans for quantum computing, how it might take shape, about super-cooling metals to create super conductors.
Blimey!
Harry lost this guy as soon as he started gushing. I've managed to keep up with him just a little bit longer.
He's like me speaking about what can be done with magic using common sense!
I look at R and see her nodding, absentmindedly, to his speech.
Calvin slows down at this stage and notice us three staring at him. He's embarrassed now. "Got carried away again, aye? I'll show myself out – nice meeting you guys," he tries to save face.
I stop him with a raise finger, as he starts to get up.
Hey, this actually works? Thanks Fleur!
"Listen," R says. "We can't give you any details, right now, but I like your dreams, and I like the fact that you're willing a put actual hours into dreams, even during your post-doc. You'll have to explain neural networks to me, one day, by the way.
"We're talking about a four-month contract, for now, which will probably grow into a permanent project, if this," she points at him and us, "will work out.
"But! We would like you to dream much further into the future."
He looks at us for few moments, then chuckles. "What? you guys found a stranded spaceship, or something?"
He's now wide eyed for our silence. "where do I sign?" he asks.
September 16th, 1997 - Battersea Power Station
Things suddenly move forward faster than expected. Calvin returned to the office the next day with a boot full of computer equipment, a shopping list, and a list of names for us to meet with, and for R to run clearance reviews for. It turns out, once one is considered of the best minds of an elite research institute, they tend to know who else is part of that exclusive group. All relatively young, all hungry for breaking the excepted.
Keira is an experimental Physicist, known for her breakthrough ideas, and findings. People are talking about Nobel potential there, if only she stops going all goth, and wears something conservative, to meetings and conventions, to cover all the tattoos.
She's so cool!
I'm not sure if she's more excited about the idea of space travel, with all involved technologies and discoveries, or the existence of magic. When harry started explaining it all to her, she stopped him, after about a minutes. Dragged him out to the street, marched to the first person she could find – a lorry driver at the nearby constructions, and tried to tell him we found a spaceship – just to see if the contract worked.
Harry repeated the introduction, from the start at the local pub, with the aid of some whiskey. Came back in laughing his head off.
Could have invited me – the bustard!
Keira's shopping list was frightening. They look at us like at little children when R suggests securing time in existing research institutes.
"The high echelon of the science world is an unbelievably shallow pond. If I, for example, will start securing time for testing, totally irrelevant to my known research and interests – gossip will spread faster than light, pun intended," Keira explains.
"And there are some very smart people out there," Calvin continues. "If the MI5, for example, will start securing lab time. Even if the actual information, and our identities, are kept secret. Some people will have better idea about what we're doing, than the service will ever be comfortable with. Even we," He motion around us, "won't be comfortable with this kind of information circling around."
Keira nodes enthusiastically in agreement. "Take this Jackson kid for example. He's one of the bright minds and was ridiculed all over for this Egyptian aliens theory he published. Seriously, even I, in physics heard about him!"
Calvin nodes in agreement.
"Then, he goes out of a lecture, one rainy day, and no one hears from him ever since. Probably means the Americans are working on something similar," she concludes.
"You're certain you have the only spaceship on earth?" Calvin asks. When are we finally going to see the thing, by the way?"
I can only shrug.
"Right!", Beatrix jumps into the conversation. "can't believe I didn't think about it myself! Dear Catherine came for tea, couple of years back. Didn't see her ever since mother died."
"Catherine?" R asks.
"Dr. Catherine Langford – she was a friend and archaeologist's child like my mother. They used to hang together a lot, when their parents were busy robbing Egypt off its historical treasures.
"What?!" she comments at our objecting looks. "You think they parted with Cleopatra's Needle and the Concorde's obelisk, to decorate our lovely cities, out of the kindness of their hearts?
"In any case, she wasn't actively working in the field for decades. Told mother she was with some government research project, dealing with some of her parent's finds. She calls, out of the blue. Asks me about Jackson - Had him on a couple of digs, few years back – bright kid and all. Then he's gone."
R looks to be troubled. "Do you know what they found?"
Beatrix shrugs "Mum probably knew. I can try and look through her old picture albums, and read through her journals again, but she was just a kid back then."
I give Harry's pocket a calculating look. Never though to use the stone as an information gathering tool.
"I can also drop in on Catherine and ask, but then she'll know we're up to something. Especially if I get up and disappear to a mysterious government project."
Leaving aside the issue of the Americans might, or might not be up to no good, R turns back to the shopping list. "So, I must go now, to my superiors. Directly to the Prime Minister, actually, since my superiors have no idea what I am doing, and ask for few dozen million quid 'for a start'? Piece of cake."
It's decided that we'll wait till the forward team is set, then try and prioritise.
Right, team building!
September 17th, 1997 - Battersea Power Station
There are two names left on our list – one, suggested by Keira, has her Doctorate in Chemistry. The other, was referred to R, through the service, and is a Medical Doctor, and a Biologist, Internal medicine specialist. Both do research on contagious maladies and drug development. We want both. We can have one. Our choice is made for us when Keira's friend asks for a rain check. Privately, she tells her friend that she has just got pregnant, and would be glad if we'll be in touch, in a year time, if the project proceeds. Jill's name is added to the 'potential future team' list. Dr. Seth Owen is on the team.
We invite Fleur and Bill for a pint, this evening.
Till then, we start working.
Calvin is crawling underneath tables, and behind shelving connecting a spaghetti of wires. R is there helping him to sort it all up. They are having a very involved discussion regarding security, storage, backups, connected and non-connected networks.
Damn, I don't understand a word of it.
I'm not used to being the least educated person in a room. All I can do is listen carefully, till R is sent out with a list of equipment to bring in.
After she's gone, Calvin spares me few minutes to try and explain. Since magic is able to make our offices 'non-existent', we are making an effort to be as self sufficient as possible, so not to have any wires leading to our place and marking it. That means power generator. It also means wireless networks, both for information and calls.
Can't believe I didn't even know what 'Data' is. So much to learn!
They are panning of having two separate computer networks. One for inside work. That one will hold all the sensitive information, so no one can hack…"
Another word he can't believe I don't know…
Access, without being inside the building. And with our Fidelious – only those signed to the contract can. Unless we make a mistake.
Or I'm dead…
The other network is for outside connection. For us to have outside connection, yet no cables, and no radio signal, someone can listen to, the connection will be through narrow beam. He explained it to me three times, each time dumbing it down again, till he gave up on me.
How shameful…
While I was doing that, Keira dragged Harry into another room, and had him cast spell after spell for her. Not that it did much good, since she didn't have the appropriate equipment. In the end, all she got for her effort was a fried computer, and a lot of frustration.
Calvin told her something about mobiles, and the need for hardened equipment, and her shopping list just got longer.
I watch her walking by, disgusted. She dropped here computer into the bin and mumbled something about 'never finding her tricorder, when she needs it most'. As a revenge, and as soon as R is back, she sends Harry and I, to have our blood taken and put through a thorough battery of test.
"Dr. Owen will be glad to have those ready, when here for work, tomorrow," she said.
Meanwhile, Beatrix has gone home looking for her mother's picture album and journals. She closes herself off in her office, in front of the lovely river view, and starts on the tedious work of combing through this information, for anything odd.
It's 7 o'clock, and we're sitting at the local pub for a pint. Team building, R calls it. Getting pissed is the term Keira and Calvin prefers. Beatrix just looks at us 'kids' fondly while she sips elegantly from her Hennessy XO.
It's a struggle to have the conversation flowing. Keira and Calvin has it easy. They are of about the same age. Both post-doc students, have met in the past, and as different as they both are – they are geeks at heart. R joins relatively easily. She's about their age, went to a good university, and have that fighter pilot coolness about her. Still, all too seldom the conversation meets that 'I'm a MI5 agent and can't even tell you my real name' roadblock. Beatrix is older than us. She has the sophistication of an actual Lady, her posh looks and the whole adventuring archaeologist halo about her. Not to forget that she's from that Croft family. She can easily sit at the table, let the children play before her, and entertain us with an adventure story, when proper. Seth's a Medical Doctor, and an acclaimed one at that. He doesn't need to be cool to be respected.
Then there are us. We can't help being the children here. We're so undereducated it's not even funny. We find ourselves out of the conversation, since we did not go to university, did not have sex, didn't even get pissed properly.
What can we tell?
Can we tell about Harry almost being mostly dead? Killing a giant snake with a sword? Out flying a dragon? About me scolding a giant? Killing Death Eaters? Because we're already crossing that statute.
How do we get respect around this table of extraordinary people, we've managed to collect? Because if we can't get respect, how do we lead them to reach our goals?
"Guys," I hear R using a short lull in the conversation. "Don't make the mistake of dismissing Hermione and Harry here. They may be young and got vastly different education. The are limited in what they can tell, too. But, they're both on the list to be knighted, on merit – for saving the kingdom."
Thanks R!
They are all turning to look at us with renew interest, and I can't help but be embarrassed by the attention, that I miss the silence spreading around the pub. Than the noise raises back up, as most guys rush to the front door, to help and impress the blond beauty standing there.
"Guys! In here!" Harry cries out, over the noise around, and waives them to our table. "Grab a pint and we'll have introductions all around. And Fleur," he adds, after the mandatory bisous and hugs. "Try and tune it down? Not magical people here." He smiles.
"Girls," I say, gaining a frown from Calvin. "Please meet our partners Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley. They are both Mages like us. They are treasure hunters, and the magical equivalent of archaeologists. With magic, 'tomb raiding' can get much more exciting than a computer game"
Harry winks at Beatrix at this.
"Fleur, Bill, this is the team we've collected for this. Calvin, Keira are scientists. Seth's a Doctor…
Great, Hermione – almost everyone's a doctor here…
"A Medical Doctor – healer. Beatrix's an archaeologist, and R's a Secret Service agent. She's so secret we don't even know her name."
R smirks.
"Now, that we have a full team, work starts. Tickets are bought and we're off to Egypt this Friday. Well, you are flying. Us mages have other ways for international transportation."
R visibly shudders. "You really don't want to try it – believe me. I'll gladly fly."
"Before we do, I would like to tell you about Isis."
I can see Bill waves a silencing ward around us.
"Goddess of the moon, of life and magic; protector of women and children; healer of the sick. Wife of Osiris, mother of the Pharaoh, path finder of the afterlife, resurrector of the dead?" Beatrix asks.
She read the same book too.
Again, I tell the tale of the fight, and the Jar, and Isis taking over me. I explain the Goa'uld, and what we managed to discover and learn. I describe Precious and the devices found in and around it. That it works, but sadly, only for me. I detail our goals, for the protection and benefit of the UK and Earth. Our fears of arms race and wars. Our wishes for profits.
When done, we're no longer the kids, at the grownup table.
There is a prolonged silence, when they nurse their drinks and contemplate our story.
"You mean all the bloody gods where masquerading alien wankers?" Keira finally blurts.
This time, I do face palm.
Besides me Harry laughs his head off. I kick him in the shins. Hard.
Bisous – kissed
AN -
Hi all,
Here is the latest instalment of my space opera "Star Granger".
This chapter marks the end of the build-up for this story, and soon Hermione and Harry will be gallivanting around the galaxy, killing Goa'ulds, breading Dragons, and having sex with aliens - green and blue.
Well, not really.
But they will go up to space. Soon. Promise!
As an end of the year update, I can tell that season 1 isn't far from it's end.
A longer season 2 is already written, and I'm currently writing chapter 5 of season 3.
This is probably a good time for a beta, so if anyone is interested - especially someone who actually British - drop me a line.
On a more personal note, this has been quite a miserable year.
Very bitter-sweet personally.
I do wish us all a much better next year. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and see you all in 2021.
Cheers!
Niv