Disclaimer: this is a derivative work of fiction, as such I make no claim to any of the ideas or characters that belong to the various people who thought of them originally.
Advance notice: each chapter is based around a set event not length.
Feedback: this is my first published fan fiction so it is kind of necessary if you wish to: a) see this continued, and b) see any improvement in my writing
okay.
thanks to my one reviewer: hope this answers a few of the inevitable questions i left you with.
and answers your request for longer chapters, just don't expect much for a while: the next part has me stumped and with no feedback i'm starting to run out of ideas, not on what i want to happen but how to get there.
Lakeside
I looked around, 2 people had felt different, almost alien, and I wanted to make sure they were not a threat, an idea that had to be put on hold when I felt the familiar tightness in my chest, warning me that I needed to get my inhaler out.
Something I accomplished, without looking in my bag, but instead at the other people, all of whom seemed to be dressed in different styles.
Two especially.
I walked over, after using my inhaler, intending to try to get a better read on them when one of them pulled a stone out of her pocket, looked at it, and pointed my way, saying something in a language I didn't recognise.
Then they turned and walked towards me, talking.
"She is a witch. She could do a translation spell for us." Guide logic could be infuriating if you were on the wrong side of it, but then, Tarithna logic had its own advantages.
"How is she supposed to know to do a translation spell?"
"Uh. Well we could talk at her until she understands the requirement."
It looked like Tarithna logic held the trump card.
"She is young, and she doesn't look too healthy, are you sure she will be powerful enough?"
There was no response.
From her Guide anyway, as large numbers of people carrying unfamiliar, to both Guide and Tarithna, weapons shouted at everyone, first startling the young witch, then scaring her.
"Don't." came from her guide as the Tarithna unthinkingly followed her Callings oldest commandment: protect the innocent above all else.
I jumped as one of the two women moved to place herself between me and the soldiers, and saw, as well as sensed the soldier's respect, when he overcame the reflex to just shoot the individual who had moved so fast.
And she was fast, from 6 feet away to between myself and the soldiers without appearing to move.
It reminded me of something, a legend that mum and grams had often argued about.
What was it called again?
I put my hand out and touched her arm reassuringly, flashing her a quick grin when she turned to look at me.
An action that gave me my first real look at her.
Dark skinned, with very short, almost stubbly, hair and solidly built, she looked more like a trouble maker than someone who'd step in front of a gun for a stranger.
But she had, and the look she shot me when she flowed from between myself and the soldiers was suspicious, untrusting.
Almost like I would have imagined a soldier who didn't trust his, or in this case her, commanding officer to make a sensible decision concerning self preservation.
An assessment the soldiers appeared to share in as they began treating the three of us more warily.
Along with someone else.
Someone behind me.
Jon looked at the three women that the soldiers were concentrating on, not that they were ignoring anyone else of course, oh no, that would be too easy, but at least it meant he could get word back to Hammond that something that bore all of Loki's hallmarks had occurred.
He just had to get the attention of someone who would have a chance of having the right clearance first.
And keep an eye on those two women.
For some reason they were dressed remarkably similar to the Tok'ra and that would mean they would have to be in on whatever this was.
Though why they didn't speak English when every other snakehead seemed to was interesting, probably be able to give Daniel another excuse to hide in his office, though this time without his rocks.
Though why that language was bugging him, he would love to find out.
Easiest job first, though.
"Air... sorry soldier"
"yeah?" the soldier looked at the kid who'd addressed him in such a manner and then looked him over, taking in the way he held himself, the almost visible air of command, and of frustration.
And decided he did not want to know why a kid held himself like Special Forces.
"You got the contact details for Blue Book?"
The soldier visibly swallowed, guessing what was coming next.
He so did not want to be the one to call this a Foothold when there were higher ups looking on.
"Could you make the call and inform them that the colonel's ward needs a hand with a possible repeat?"
The soldier visibly relaxed, obviously, for some reason, the kid knew what Blue Book was, and needed their help; he looked around, if this had happened before though…
"You all right?" I'd had to ask the boy, who felt more like an older man to my other senses, simply to try and resolve some of the conflict he was feeling, which was gonna start leaking through my own shields, at least at the level I was holding them.
I did not want any surprises…
"Yeah. Just getting a message to my dad." Came the response, along with a sense of not quite lie, and a quick nod of the head to indicate the soldier he'd spoken to.
"My name's Jonathon." The boy continued, holding his hand out, as I got as I got a sense of not quite truth from him.
As though, while that was his name, it wasn't how he thought of himself.
Throw in his sense of self-control and you had a real onion type personality.
I hated him already.
If only for the headaches such people cause.
"Pandora." I responded, adding a quick muttered prayer to the goddess to help me stay sane around so many people.
And speaking of medical problems, a quick glance at my watch confirmed it was time for me to eat something.
And one fumble of the reserve chocolate stash I kept in my bag convinced me it was time for some other precautions.
So, abandoning the idea of chocolate, I began pulling medicine bottles out and taking the appropriate dosages of the various contents, alternating pills with a swig of sugary tea, almost gagging at the sickly taste.
Of course the overly sweet smile for the peanut gallery was a must as well.
"How dependant on medication are you?" came from one of the soldiers, in fact he was the only one who hadn't developed a massive guilt complex.
"Very." I responded, showing him the contents of my bag, while searching for a new tissue, the previous one having joined its predecessors in the rubbish.
His face blanched before military discipline took over and had him calling his superiors about my health problems.
The boy, Jonathon, blanched himself, and spent a couple of seconds staring, while horror warred with confusion before settling into friendly protectiveness.
"Oh, fer cryin' out…" he muttered, his emotions developing a subtle sub-sense of familiarity.
"What's all that for?" Jonathon asked, bored curiosity evident in his voice.
His mind, however, gave me the impression of running a mile a minute, but from the benevolent undercurrents, I got the impression his thoughts were not of the usual "Oh my god, you poor girl!", or the "Why do they bother?" variety.
The two women, however, were concealing a major panic session, I looked over and sure enough, they were busy babbling over a rock, pointing at different glows on it's surface.
Not a rock then.
And just as obviously it was making the soldiers, and Jonathon, nervous.
And that was making the two women nervous.
Time for those of us of a non-combatant leaning to move.
I had started to inch out of the firing line, when something else impinged on my senses, almost causing me to swear.
How many supernaturally aligned individuals could there be in the area?
I mean, there are the two women, each having a different type, Jonathon, to a point, a couple of low-level unknowns who felt really specialized, and now this!
Had someone opened a hellmouth near here?
I stumbled, catching everyone's attention again as I tried to keep the confusion off my face, as that thought penetrated.
That was the legend the younger of the two women reminded me of!
The Slayer.
Jonathon was closest to Pandora, so when she appeared to stumble it was natural for him to reach out to stop her falling.
Thus he heard what she muttered.
Slayer?
His mind raced, memories of past missions and mess hall gossip demanding priority.
The memories that won were of late night discussions with Kowalski, about what to do if they got off world.
Then he recognised the language the two women were using.
This was not of the good.
Or rather, it was time for mission face, meaning everything was likely to go to hell P.D.F.Q.
Just like facing off against a snake.
Now how to get the message to The General and his older self?
Without tipping off the N.I.D, preferably.
"Soldier, I need your phone", command voice had the offending item in his hand, and concealed his annoyance at his own lack, before anyone could think of reasons not to hand the phone over.
Of course they remembered as he finished dialling.
"I need to speak to General Hammond."
That put the objections on hold.