Seven
/ P3X-796 – INSIDE THE SECTOR POST /
O'Neill had not meant to hurt the girl. It was not in his nature to hurt children; and in some ways, she was very much a child. Though in years, she was older than she looked, she'd had no teaching in social skills. Ssendrriya had taught her all the appropriate schooling texts; but not having other people around, Koraes' training in dealing with other Sentients was severely limited. Something which O'Neill had not really taken into account until that moment.
Slowly, he stood and approached her, squatting down in front of her. He lowered his voice, trying to convey gentleness in it rather than the flood of harsher emotions he had been showing her since they met.
"Koraes, it's all right." He said, gently lifting her head to look at him. "I know you didn't mean any real harm. And I know what loneliness can do to a person." When it was clear that she was not going to turn her head down if he released her, he did so and sat back on his heels. "The problem is I need to get home; and I can't do that until I'm sure I won't take this Plague of yours back with me." He was being very gentle but laying all the cards on the table. Trying to make her understand the situation as he saw it.
Koraes nodded slowly. "I understand, O'Neill." She said softly, brushing a hand over her cheeks to clear away the last tears. Then her expression shifted to confusion, and her head tilted. "You are not angry with me?" She asked very softly.
O'Neill sighed. Part of him was . . . the part that was frustrated and felt trapped. But part of him was not; and that part won, for now at least. "No, I'm not angry with you." He assured gently.
Koraes smiled a warm smile. "Thank you, O'Neill." She offered, reaching out to place her hand over the one of his he had on the arm of the chair for stability . . . a gesture she had not done since they had met.
The touch revealed much to her. It showed her his fear of being caged, his worry that he could inadvertently harm his fellow team members, his kindness and gentleness, his strength gained through conflicts and manners of training she could only imagine. She saw the pain that was his and the strength he had gained from living through it. This was a strong and gentle man whom she suddenly felt very strongly she needed to help.
Her eyes focused and became determined. She took her hand back and leaned back in the chair to address Ssendrriya. Her voice had gained an edge of determination and strength to it which had been lacking before as well.
"Ssendrriya, the Scan results?" She demanded of the AI.
Ssendrriya's voice came back almost immediately. "His system has undergone alteration from what my data records show as Human normal. The Plague was unable to take residence within him."
Both Koraes and O'Neill relaxed visibly. Each had their own reasons, but the result was the same . . . relief.
O'Neill stood and returned to the chair he had been sitting in before her confession and subsequent breakdown. He was relieved for both of them. He could safely go home, and she could be sure that she had not caused another being to die from this illness. "All right, Ssendrriya, then show me how to fly that scout."
His speaking of her name was badly accented, but she did not mind. He was not Builder or Kryll, so she had not expected him to say it properly. But at least, he had made the effort rather than simply calling her Station or Computer or some other such derogatory term.
The information flickered on the screen before him then vanished, replaced by other information. What looked like a schematic drawing of the Post was slowly filled in as if a camera were panning back to give him a wider view of the area surrounding the base. Several units out (though he could not have identified the units of measurement the computer was using), several blips could be seen on the screen. This, he realized was a Tactical Display. Someone was coming.
"Ssendrriya, identify." He commanded before realizing he had no place here to command her. Well, he was the only one among them with any military training, so he let it stand.
Ssendrriya, fortunately, responded to his command immediately. "Those who approach are unknown." She answered. "The Forms appear Human, but they do not exactly match the specifications of Human."
O'Neill stiffened. "Shield the Post and explain." His tone had become sharp-edged now, and his eyes were narrowed on the screen.
"Each Form seems to be constructed of two distinct and yet intertwined Forms." She explained as ordered. "Do you wish Military Assessment, O'Neill?"
O'Neill nodded. "Absolutely."
"Their pattern indicates a military advance. Sixteen rows of nine beings each. Their stride resembles the stride known as marching in your language. Assessment: this is an advance force for a greater Military Unit."
"Damn!" O'Neill growled under his breath. He should have known they'd catch up with SG-1 sooner or later! "They're Jaffa, Ssendrriya. The servants and army of the Goa'uld." He defined. "What offensive and defensive capabilities does this Post have?"
"We have three interlocking layered Shield Systems. Primary Weapon is a Phased Plasma Cannon. Secondary Weapons are Particle Beam Accelerators. Tertiary Weapons are Variating Pulse Cannons firing 250,000 pulses per second on differing frequencies. Internal defenses consist of three levels of Security Grids. Level three merely prevents access by erecting forcefields around the secured area which require Command Authorization to deactivate or cross. Level Two warns the individual that they are crossing into a Secured Zone. Should they proceed, they are immediately transported to a Stasis Unit via the Translocation Matrix which brought you here from the Gate. Level One utilizes the Translocation Matrix to scatter the offender's molecular components. Is this satisfactory, O'Neill?"
At first, he could only sit and blink. Satisfactory? Hell, he didn't even know what half of that stuff did. But as long as it could kick Goa'uld ass, he didn't care what it meant.
"Hell, yeah!" He answered when he could once again coax his larynx to cooperate with his brain, or rather, the reverse. "Put up the shields then and prepare to defend." He commanded, not knowing what else to say. "Is there a way I can help?" He hated sitting still in a battle.
"You may take Firing Control if you wish, O'Neill." Ssendrriya answered, translating the information on the screen in front of him to English, the language she had determined he had been speaking. "Place your hands against the silvered plates and think your commands. I will carry them out."
O'Neill blinked and looked at the console. There were no silvered panels there. A flash of memory only half remembered made him look at the arms of his chair. Sure enough, there they were. He set his hands against them and leaned back in the chair. His eyes closed, and his mind began to flow with the Station . . .