Chapter 11
Thoughts
"speech"
"Goa'uld speech"
SG SG SG SG SG SG SG
October 21st 1997 – Siwa
It was supposed to be packing day, but when R planned a whole day, for packing, she obviously didn't plan for magical trunks. Mostly, when a mage packs, she just shrinks it all into a bag, trunk, or something and is done with it – in seconds. If one is good at packing, all things will pack themselves neatly and in order. None of us is that good, though Fleur isn't too shabby.
Understandably, we were reluctant to submit alien technology to magic intensive charms - such as shrinking. More than that, Naquadah, just as we discovered our first visit to the temple, turned out to be devilishly difficult to charm. Sure, we could enchant it with shrinking runes, but engraving Hardened Naquadah, turned out to be just as difficult, or should I say 'hard'?
Not to worry. Extended trunks are to the rescue. Merlin only knows why –
Actually, in this case, Merlin might have actually known. Lazy wizards have surely never taken the time to do the research.
But inner and outer dimension of an object are completely separate properties. Take a ring platform – A potentially sensitive, certainly heavy, some 15 ft in diameter, for example. One can enclose those in a crate, enchant that crate to be magically null, insert it into an enlarged trunk – as long as the opening is large enough, then simply shrink the trunk, put it in your pocket, and – bob's you uncle.
R planned a full day for packing. She even thought she took magic into account. In reality, it took us four 30 min' to have it sorted. That includes some heated discussion regarding the actual need for magic nullification runes.
Better safe than sorry…
R was also obsessing about storage space and passenger capacity, and looked to be a bit exasperated, once all the equipment prepared for transport was safely stowed away in her pocket. That left us with a full day, to lounge near the sparkling lake, since R insisted, and rightly so - both on a night flight, and a decent kip before departing.
I'm really going to miss this place.
"What is your issue with me?"
Those words shake me out of my thoughts. "Sorry?"
Deny!
Beatrix's looking at me, over her sunglasses, clearly amused by my clumsy effort to evade her question.
"I know it isn't me personally, or I would have never joined you in the first place, but there is something, and I just can't figure the reason for it".
I grimace. Damn!
"There you have it!" She's clearly amused.
Nothing like the truth.
"It's not you, it's us" I try.
Beatrix raises a well-formed brow at me. Damn! Nothing like the truth, then.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," I say softly.
Beatrix waits patiently for me to elaborate.
"She's a Death Eater. Was. She killed, tortured, and ruined countless lives, including torturing one of our best fiends' parents to insanity. His mother was Harry's godmother – he didn't even know, till earlier this year.
"Think 'the wicked witch of the west', but in an adult, gory version." I try to explain.
Beatrix doesn't say anything.
"The names just too similar for comfort." I say lamely. "Don't you have a middle name, or something?"
"What happened to her?"
"She was executed for her crimes, few months back. About a year after she escaped prison."
She's quiet for a while. "Sorry," she finally says. "Lara is, sadly, a video-game bimbo with large chest. Lara is also my mother. You don't get to call me that."
"Beatrix is a lovely name. We'll get over ourselves – sorry," I apologise lamely.
She smiles and walk into the water, for a deep.
She's so cool!
It is late night when we're finally set to leave. I'm sad to break the wards around our little paradise oasis. Harry breaks the Fidelious around the temple. I give Precious one last look from the outside.
"Both Disillusionment and Notice-Me-Not, working," I state as the hatch closes behind me.
R's at the pilot seat. I take my place beside her, as co-pilot. I touch the sensor control, and Precious hums to life. Beatrix is perched again on 'her' throne. Others are sited on various transfigured seats stuck to the floor. Check-list is surprisingly short: Hatch – closed, Engine – on, Shields – off, Seatbelts – non-existent. R eases us up and slowly to the north, over the desert, making sure to give the Egyptian coastal stations a wide breath. We are over the Med now, and R is gathering speed. It shouldn't be a long flight. An hour – hour and a half at most and we'll be back home in London, even with the detour planned to keep us over water, for the whole route.
It's 40 min' into our journey. R, beside me, mumbles something about autopilot.
It's so boring. Can't even read, cause I need to keep my hand on the controls. Maybe if I stick a book to the navigation table…
I'm playing with the sensor's display, for lack of anything else to do. Short distance, Up look.
Nice! Look at all those airlines flying all over. Never imagined there are so many, and those overlapping, different altitude, routes are pretty.
"What are you doing?" R asks.
Getting bored out of my mind.
"Checking the sensors displays."
"Better keep those as low as possible – We don't know what emissions those are putting out."
Damn, she's right.
"Turning it back to short range." I acknowledge, but the next display in the cycle is an even longer range.
Wow! Look at the moon, and all those satellites in orbit, and all this space junk. That's probably the space station, I think seeing a larger spot on the display, then – WOW!
"Look at those huge things!"
R turns her gaze to the display and Precious wobbles on it's course.
"We don't have anything that big in orbit, that I know of?" she says, clearly disturbed. Do the sensors have any information?
Beatrix is near us now and touches a button. Obviously, nothing happens. I touch the same button too, and symbols are added to the displayed information. One of a twisted snake inside a double ring appears beside the two large targets.
Not good!
"Apophis" both Beatrix and I say at the same time.
"A Goa'uld," I elaborate, then hesitate and add – "I think?"
Think?!
"Does this thing has visual?" R asks in a clear wishful thinking.
Beatrix suggest another button, and the display is replaced with an image of two huge ships in space. Both are construct of a golden pyramid shape, with dark grey 'skirts' around their bottoms.
"Those looks like they can land on the great pyramids," Beatrix remarks.
"Not helping," R says. "What do we do?"
I can notice we are gradually gaining height as we speak.
"Those things out there are huge monstrosities. Looks like capital ships, or something. Goa'uld capital ships, over Earth are awfully bad news, but what can Precious do?"
The word 'Ha'tak' pops in my mind.
"Can we try and infiltrate them?" R lamely offers.
"What, you and yourself?" Keira remarks snidely.
"Any useful magic?"
She's grasping at straws…
"Probably," Harry answers, but we'll have to know those things to do real damage, never mind not killing ourselves."
"Bloody hell", R exclaims, as one after the other. The two monstrosities explode in great balls of fire, which are extinguished almost immediately.
Bloody hell's an understatement. Goodness gracious more like it!
Sensor display blanks, for few seconds, then shows the spreading field of debris drifting away from the explosion centre. At the edge of the debris field we can see indication of two small crafts, indicated with the Apophis symbol. Visual shows fighter like crafts. Probably a tad smaller than a common earth fighter.
"Those we can handle." R says, almost giddily.
Eager Much?
"Let's see if we can find someone with some answers for us?" R is smirking now. "Buckle up, girls. We're going up to space!"
"Didn't you said something about not risking Precious?" I cry out, as we shoot up and into the black.
"Precious doesn't have seatbelts, you dolt!" Calvin shouts from behind.
"Brits in space!" Keira's crying out enthusiastically and waiving her arms up in the air.
It's about half an hour, before we're getting close to the fighters.
"Seems to be drifting," R remarks. "I don't really know how to read this fully, but it doesn't look like they are moving under power. Do you think there's someone alive there?"
No one answers since we don't have a clue.
"If I'm estimating it right, there's enough air in one for 2-3 hours. If someone is there and was alive after the explosions – they will still be there." Keira finally says quietly. "If, those aliens breath air at all, that is," she adds.
"All right," R sighs. "Let's have a look at the poor sods".
Having a look took few passes, since R doesn't have the fine control over Precious, she would have liked to have. Also, objects drifting in space tends to spin, turn, and roll, in a way that makes matching them hard, without something to grab them with, or a very sophisticated flight computer.
Does Precious have a tractor beam?
It takes R few tries to gently use Precious hull to stop the fighter's spinning and point our front viewscreen in their general direction.
"They don't seem to appreciate our company," Beatrix remarks dryly.
There are four people in the drifting space fighters. Three men and one woman. Three are wearing what looks to be earth fatigues, and one might be coming right out of a space adventure film.
"US air force," R says dismissively.
"Looks like marines to me," Clavin remarks.
"They are airman, not flight crew, so they have fatigues for field uniform," R explains. "They really don't look happy about us."
The four were speaking animatedly between themselves, pointing at us, from time to time.
"Odd. Would have though that people drifting in space, in a broken spaceship, would be glad for company," Calvin shrugs. "Did you try the radio?"
"Radio, Right!".
=Unknown airman, this is Precious. do you read me? Over=
The men look even more agitated now.
=People in drifting spaceships. This is spaceship Precious. Do-you-read-me? Over=
There's a little static from the radio, then a male's voice.
=Tel'tak Precious?=
He sounds uncertain…
=This is Colonel O'Neill, US Air Force, we hear you. Who are you?=
The devil inside takes control, and I press the communication before R can respond.
=This is agent H, on WIB vessel Precious. We hold jurisdiction for all extra-terrestrial relating events. Please stand down=
"Agent H?" R mouths and looks at me like I've lost the plot.
Maybe I did…
Harry laughs.
The four are holding an animated conversation again. As interesting as it is, we have places to be.
=Colonel O'Neill, Precious. We are short on time. Are you comfy, or would you like a lift? Over=
Obviously, they'll be glad for a lift. There's a little snag in the plan, since neither the 'gliders', as they call them, nor Precious, has neither an airlock, nor a docking port. Portkey might have been a solution if only we had a way to pass it trough. The fighter's cockpits are sadly, much too small for a person to Apparate in and join the do.
Not that I'm anxious to be the first witch to test Apparition in space…
=Colonel O'Neill, Precious. The only solution we have is for you to eject to space, so we can ring you in. Over=
Not a nice solution. They don't like it either but can't offer a better one.
=Precious, O'Neill. Can you not ring us out of the cockpit? Over=
=Right, and ring in a piece of the fighter with you, to crush and kill us all? Over= Keira sarcasm is clear, even over the radio.
We test the idea by ringing in and out a piece of debris.
=Colonel O'Neill, this idea is viable. Not fun, but you'll be exposed for 10 to 15 seconds at most. You will likely lose consciousness, but you'll live, and will be well in few days. We are moving into position. Please eject one fighter at a time=
=Roger. Standing by= answers a woman's voice.
Harry winks at me and I transfigure our clothing into WIB appropriate.
=Eject one=
A man and a woman appeared in the ring circle, groaning and oozing body fluids.
Eww gross!
Few recurring cleaning spells do wonder for both them, and our ability to breath without honking. Fleur follows those with few general healing charms, making the blotting and haematomas diminish considerably. So are their moans. They will be thanking us for it, when back on their feet.
Being unprotected in space doesn't seem to be fun at all…
Freshening spell makes our friends thankful. We look at each other and add a Bubblehead on ourselves.
=O'Neill, Precious. Both are safe on board. Eject two=
=Here goes nothing!= we hear O'Neill's unprofessional remark, then a hiss. Few seconds later, both men appear on the ring platform, and receive the same treatment without delay.
It takes the four about 15 minutes and a cup of tea before they feel themselves human enough to speak.
Well, two of the men looks only to be 'mostly human'.
Fleur and I stay with them in case there is any deterioration with their health. Seth is keeping his vigil, taking vitals, blood, and tissue samples for testing, back in the lab. He concentrates on the two larger males, and frowns at his finds. I can also see the questions, running in his mind.
This is going to be an uncomfortable conversation.
In the front, Harry, Bill, and R are having a heated and involved discussion. It includes hand waiving and finger pointing at themselves and to the outside.
What the hell is…
"Thank you," I hear a whisper near me, which pulls my attention back to the Americans. It's the woman (Obviously!), who speaks first. "You saved our lives out there."
R notices the conversation and comes to us purposefully.
She's great when all business, I smile to myself.
"Did you have anything to do with the explosion?" she cuts to the point.
"Hey! Just who are you, palls?" O'Neill asks in exasperation.
"It's the new guys on a ship, that present themselves first. And ask for permission to come aboard – Didn't they teach you that in Maxwell?"
"Captain Samantha Carter, US air force," the woman says. "This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, also Air force. Teal'c and Master Bra'tac are Jaffa. Teal'c is with us now, and Master Bra'tac saved our lives, and helped us explode the ships and escape, just now. Permission to come aboard?"
"Granted," R almost growls. "Carter, you say. Don't I remember you flying F16s out of Tabuk?"
"You're the Samantha Carter who wrote a Doctorate on Micro-Wormholes mechanics?" Keira cut's in, without waiting for a response. "Utterly wrong," she remarks, looking surreptitiously at Harry, "But amazing analysis, none the less."
"Well' I've learned few things, since…"
"Wait a minute here!" O'Neill bursts into the conversation. "Who are you guys!?"
"Agent R, H, H, and B. WIB." R answers him.
I raise an eyebrow at her. Seriously? Her to?!
"We're working for three years on this, carefully luring them here, so we can put our mitts on those capital ships of them. Finally, had it sorted, then you wazzocks barges in, and cock it all up, thank you very much."
"Enough with this MIB nonsense?" O'Neill cries out in frustration.
R stands quietly, holding a hand to her hair, and giving an air of holding herself - Just.
She's good!
"I don't have time, or patience for this," she mumbles to herself. She suddenly takes her sunglasses out and put them on in one motion. "Agent H?"
Beatrix, Harry and I hurry and put our own glasses on, too.
Correction – She's brilliant!
Harry take out a small device, out of his inner pocket, with a red blinking light at the top. "Thank you for your help, friends. If you'll look here, all will be explained."
I hardly manage not to laugh.
There might be a marauder in me, after all.
"OK, OK!," O'Neill cries out, covering his eyes. "Listen, let's get back to earth and we can talk it up with the General," he says.
R shakes her head in exasperation and goes back to the front with Harry.
"You know you have a Goa'uld infestation?" I ask. "They look small, immature? I can get rid of those for you, once back on earth."
Teal'c and Bra'tac looks disturbed by this.
"They are Jaffa. Genetically altered by the Goa'ulds, as slaves, soldiers and to carry larval Goa'uld, as they grow." Captain Carter explains. "Without them they'll die.
Damn. Sorry?
"Listen guys, those gliders are ours!" I can hear O'Neill insisting.
"Right you are mate. And just how are you planning on picking them up?"
"Probably send the space shuttle. Sam will tell you," He shrugs.
Captain Carter just shakes her head in annoyance.
"Endeavour payload bay is 60 ft long and 15 ft in diameter, never mind load capability. How do you suggest storing those in there?"
O'Neil shrugs and look uncertainly at Captain Carter.
"Blimey, you plonker really know bugger all?" Calvin summarises.
"How are we going to carry those?" I ask, ignoring O'Neill for the moment.
"I'm going out to pack them up," Harry smiles at me. "I'll have a backup Portkey back in, to be on the safe side," he tries to calm me down.
Right! what a wonderful plan!. Going out to space, with no suit, no air-supply, no airlock, but holding a Portkey into a small shuttle, travelling in orbit, at Merlin knows what speed. Didn't have such a fool proof plan, since sliding down the drains into the Chamber…
"Complete nutter, aren't you?" I just say.
Harry moves to stand in the middle of the ring platform, and it all goes pear shaped.
"Wait a moment kid!" I hear O'Neill cry from behind me. He rushes past me, pushing me out of the way.
Hey!
I panic a little and throws him aside using the brace.
"She's a Guauld!" I can hear a deep and level voice from behind. Probably Teal'c. I can also hear something charging.
The haze of a shield blooms around me and Harry. I turn and see Teal'c pointing his stuff-gun at me.
"Please cool down, everyone!" I hear R calling.
Fleur smiles and suddenly all males around get a hazy smile to their faces.
"Careful. Goa'uld Queen!" Captain Carter shouts from the side and points her snake-gun at me.
"Stupefy!" several voices call, and the hall falls into silence.
"What did you do to them?" R asks.
"Just stunned them." Bill answers.
"Brilliant. That went just brilliant." R summarises.
The rest of the day goes as well as this crazy one can possibly go. Harry's ridiculous space walk went much better than I could have ever imagine. I watch him cover himself with two dragon-hide suits, cast an overpowered warming charm on himself, then a superpowered Bubblehead charm, which made the bubble reach his waist. He is out for a grand total of 24 seconds, throwing off and enlarging two trunks. He is coughing and wheezing when back. His eyes bloodshot, and all kind of black and blue, but few spells and a Pepper-up later, and he is all better.
Takes us quite a bit of time to insert the fighters into the trunks. A couple of us need to hold each trunk in place. Another couple control the fighter's movements. Some careful flying by R, helps to do the work. Trunks are shrunk, ringed in, and we are on our way back. We drop our guests on the runway, at area 51. I can see Bill surreptitiously erasing their memories of the last of our time together, and smile with approval.
Harry is kind enough and leaves one of the space-fighters with them. It's enlarged to full size, gift-wrapped, with a decorated note – 'courtesy of WIB'.
It is already dawn, when we touch down at headquarters, and closed the roof glass, to stop the London drizzle. Precious, and our new space-fighter are sitting on the gleaming concrete floor, grey, dull, and dripping.
"Sleep now?"
R's not really asking. She walks out through the side door into headquarters' living space, to crush. Not even having energy to drive home.
Bill and Fleur disappear with a lauder 'pop' than usual.
Beatrix catches a cab to her Islington town-house.
Keira and Calvin disappear into the living space too. It was set up for them, after all – since their regular flats are out of London.
Seth stops me, with a hand on my shoulder, before Harry and I can leave.
"Set aside, what Beatrix said about witch hunts and the burnings." I tell him, softly, before he can say anything. "I can brew a proven cure to all types of blood cancer, in about an hour work. You drink it – you're cured." Once again, I stop him, with a raised finger, before he can say anything. "There are about 4,500 people dying of blood cancer, in all its varieties, in the UK alone, each year – I've checked. To cure those, for a single year, we will have to kill all the dragons, around the globe, for their blood. Or breed dragons in numbers no human on earth will survive."
"And we will have no blood left to clean ovens," Harry remarks.
I smack him. Not helping again!
"Whatever you think about us mages, Magic can only be a solution, on an extremely small scale. It is one of the reasons, it must stay secret."
"Also," Harry adds softly. "As much as we mages like to deny it – we always expect the Spanish inquisition."
Seth says nothing, but nodes in understanding.
AN:
All right! Chapter 11 is up, and this season is approaching its end.
This is my call again for a beta reader, to help me make all this better.
What do I need?
Obviously, I need someone to go over spelling and grammar for me. English isn't my first language, and I'm a bit Dyslectic, so after all my efforts - I know I'm still in need.
Then, I need someone to keep the British people English British and believable, and the American English the same. That's an important part for me.
Then, I'm open to any suggestion she may have regarding the storytelling.
Until then - I'm doing my best, mates.
If anything is too much of an eye sore for you - ping me, and I'll correct it.
Cheers!