From:

To: E.

Subject: Na Analysis

Elle,

Upon further review of the naquadah readings from Captain Carter's mass spectrometer, we have agreed that it would be advisable for you to ingest some of it. You will be able to interface with any Goa'uld technology, and we will be able to use it as a power source in this universe if our supply of rare metals and duonutronium ever runs out. We appreciate your continued habit of providing us with the needed materials. If you decide to ingest the naquadah, it will be easier for you to absorb it through the mucous membranes in your digestive tract, and we will take the needed percentage. Attached is the schedule for you to reach the critical mass required to manipulate Goa'uld technology while providing us with the necessary power. Please advise if you agree with the idea.

Regards,

S.M. Colony.

What an email to wake up to. "This was not in the plan, guys," Elle said. "Other people with naquadah in their blood can sense it, you know." She emailed the response back to them.

She got a reply within seconds.

From:

To: E.

Subject: Re: Re: Na Analysis

Yes, but the rewards outweigh the risks. And if they see you, they will assume you were a host at one time and escaped. This could also function as your cover story as to why you know so much about the Goa'uld.

Regards,

S.M. Colony

"Ugh, that's actually a good idea," Elle said, and sighed. "Fine."

From: E.

To:

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Na Analysis

Sounds good, let's do it. Be advised first naquadah delivery will be sometime this morning.

Thanks,

Elle Wilcott, CMC, SGC

Step one, eat breakfast. Step one point five, get distracted by Ferreti's question about how many civilians would be on the base now they were changing it up and how many of them would need to be combat trained (all of them). Step two... Elle wandered down to Sam's lab. "Morning, Sam."

"Morning, Elle. How'd you sleep?"

"Good. I had some weird dreams, though." Elle leaned her elbows on Sam's workspace, idly looking over the cluttered countertop. "Oh, hey." She squinted at a chunk of raw naquadah holding down a stack of papers. "Can I borrow that for a second?" she asked.

"What for?" Sam asked.

"For science," Elle said. "Obviously."

"Sure," Sam said dryly. "Just don't blow it up. You'd take out the base and the zoo."

"I won't," Elle said and brought the piece of naquadah to her mouth. She licked it. "Ew. This better be worth it."

"Elle!" Sam exclaimed, torn between dismay and amusement. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding my nanites," Elle said. "They want local materials as a power source. And, I really want to be able to use the Goa'uld hand device." She licked it again. "Ugh. That's enough for today. They have an optimal absorption schedule. Can I keep this for the next twelve days?"

Sam stared at her, caught between laughing and scolding. "Sure," she finally said. "Just make sure you tell Janet what you're doing."

"Yes, ma'am." Elle looked over her shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Finding engineers," Sam said. "We have enough scientists between us and SG1. But we need crazy people to build what we're going to retcon and steal. I'm just trawling through the universities."

Elle sighed. "I miss Scotty. And Wes. This would be right up their alley." She rested her chin in her hand. "Wesley would be so jealous that I saw a wormhole generator before he did. Not that he's gonna need it, where he's going."

"Where's he going?" Sam asked.

"Traveling spacetime with the Traveler," Elle replied. "The Picard-Crusher clan only produces wanderers, apparently."

Sam gave her a comforting smile. "Well, I'm glad you wandered this way."

"Thanks."

Jack wandered in a moment later. "Ah, my two favorite, uh, scientists," he said after a second of silent fumbling.

"Daniel will be crushed," Elle deadpanned. "Did you mean girls?"

"No," Jack said slowly, pointedly not looking at Sam. "I meant, uh, favorite people who are not archaeologists."

"Smooth," Elle said dryly. "What's up, sir?"

"Do you have plans this weekend?"

Elle blinked at him. "No," she said.

"Great. Now you do!" He grinned at her. "Barbecue at my place, have the team, Janet and Cassie, and Hammond and his granddaughters over so you can meet them. Carter, you in?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great. You can bring Elle and Teal'c down since I know you'll be working here." He pointed at them both. "1400 hours, my house, Saturday. Bring dessert." He patted Elle on the back, touched three of the nearest buttons without actually pressing them, fumbled a piece of machinery and set it back on the desk, and wandered back out of the office, whistling nonchalantly.

Elle shook her head admiringly. "He has the annoying, clueless act down to a science," she said. "Dare I say an art. It's incredible. If I didn't know he was as smart as Captain Kirk, I would never, no. That's a lie. I would've figured it out by now just by sheer context clues. But if I didn't know... man. He's good."

"As smart as Captain Kirk?" Sam asked doubtfully. "Captain Kirk? Really?"

Elle grinned. "Come on, Sam. Don't tell me you've fallen for the societal Kirk Drift. James Kirk got a double major in engineering and operations. He was a pilot before he got any real command roles. He can crawl around an engine room just as well as Scotty." She gestured with her chin in the direction Jack had walked. "That man read both my reports and understood the implications in less than three hours. He knows what he's doing."

"Yeah," Sam said softly and gave a little grin.

Elle didn't say anything. She knew their non-relationship had been a huge factor in the television show, everyone's favorite subplot that was never resolved unless it was some alternate universe version of them. But in real life... Leave it, her inner Guinan directed. You don't know them well enough to start meddling.

As in most things, Elle listened to Guinan. She went back to looking for civilian engineers who could look at an alien spaceship engine without flinching.

-/\-

At about noon on Saturday, someone knocked on Elle's door.

"Come in," Elle hollered, not looking away from her TV screen. "Hi, Sam."

"Hi," Sam said and grinned at her. "I see you're enjoying the video game console."

"Totally," Elle agreed, pausing the level to crawl out of her blanket nest on top of her bed. "Is it time? I'm basically ready."

"Yeah," Sam said. "We have to stop and get dessert, so we better head out."

"Cool." Elle started looking for her sneakers.

"What game is that?" Sam asked, taking a closer look.

"Oh, I made it," Elle said, shoving her foot into her Converse. To have a proper pair of Converse was almost like being home. Good, classic shoe. Laces, though. Elle had gotten used to not having laces in the future. Ugh. "I wanted my Enterprise flying simulator, so I recreated it. The ship is a little blobby because of the graphics, but the mechanics are correct. And instead of Romulans, I made them pyramid-ships for a bit of catharsis. I'm just testing it right now to see if the system can handle it before I try to customize the more advanced levels."

"You're racing spaceships," Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

"And dogfighting," Elle said. "They're little pyramids, but they still have the specs of Romulan warbirds programmed in. Once I get the proper specs of the Goa'uld and Asgard ships, I can make those instead."

Sam nodded distractedly as she picked up the controller and moved the little ship around on the screen. "Good maneuverability. Uh, have you shown this to anyone?"

"Not yet. I was going to invite Jack to play it later once I've got a good Rainbow Road option."

"Okay," Sam said faintly. "Uh, that'll be revolutionary, so don't lose that game, okay?"

Elle stopped trying to wrestle her laces. "What? Your flight simulators aren't... no. Of course, they aren't. Air Force pilots work in the atmosphere. Not vacuum. Right... yes." She put that project in the folder mentally labeled 'work projects.' "Uh, I can work with Teal'c, put some real effort in, make something a little more realistic."

"Sounds good." Sam checked her watch. "Okay, we gotta go."

Elle grabbed her new cell phone (a Nokia flip phone, talk about throwbacks) and her backpack and started to leave the room.

"Jacket," Sam reminded her.

"Right." Elle facepalmed. "There is a planet out there. Weather." She grabbed her jacket. "There's something to be said about living in a closed environment. Not so many layers. And the gravity isn't so constant."

Sam turned to look at her oddly. "Constant?"

"Yeah, you know, depending on where you go in the ship, the gravity is different. For the Vulcans, they keep their quarters at about 1.5g. For the Hamalki or any other delicate species, they usually keep it at .75. And the zero-g junctions throughout the ship whenever you want to bounce around. But here... I haven't had to step over a gravity shelf in weeks. It's really weird. Makes my bones feel funky."

Sam quirked a brow. "We should take you up in a jet, let you get that simulated zero-grav."

"Could you?"

"I'll ask the colonel."

They met up with Teal'c at the elevator. "Hi, Teal'c."

"Hello." Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "How is your meditation progressing, Elle Wilcott?"

"It's going okay," Elle said, clipping her ID card around her neck. "I've returned to the basic precepts, and I'm strengthening my foundations before I try and build out my shields."

Teal'c nodded approvingly. "If you wish to control the kara kesh, you must have precise control of your thoughts. When you believe you are ready, I can give you a list of thought patterns that you can practice to control the hand device."

"Thanks, Teal'c."

Teal'c inclined his head in that way that meant, 'Don't mention it.'

Sam's driving usually induced a couple of prayers to the Great Bird of the Galaxy, but they had to stop and get cupcakes from the bakery, so she kept it down to a reasonable speed. They still got there before anyone else. "I swear, you're breaking physics," Elle said as they got out of the car.

"Fighter pilot privileges," Sam said.

Elle rolled her eyes.

Jack immediately put them to work, chopping veggies for the salad and setting out platters. "Elle, do you know how to grill?"

"Only s'mores," Elle said.

They looked at her.

"No open flames on a starship," Elle reminded them.

"Right. You're my assistant then, come on. Bring the beer."

Elle looked at Sam.

"He knows what he's doing," Sam reassured her.

Elle picked up the six-pack of beer and followed Jack out to the back deck. "This runs on propane," he said, showing her the tank. "You're an engineerish type, so I'm going to level with you. Don't blow up the grill, and everything will turn out great."

Elle gave him a thumbs-up. "Cool."

She acted as his sous-chef on the grill, which meant, conveniently, she could observe people as they came in without having to meet everyone at once. Hammond, his daughter, son-in-law, and two grandkids, Janet, Cassie, and Daniel, who showed up last with ice cream.

Elle side-eyed Cassie as the teenager played ball with the two smaller Hammonds. Cassie, the only survivor of a Goa'uld-induced plague on her planet, saved by Sam and Janet, and almost blown up by that same evil Goa'uld, whats-her-face, poisoner type. That was, what, two years ago? "If I had a nickel for every sole survivor of a colony planet," Elle said to the burger patties, "I would have, well, three nickels, technically. Peter, Data, and her. But it's weird that it happened thrice."

"Who are you talking to?" Daniel asked.

"A platypus in a hat," Elle said, straight-faced.

Daniel was, unfortunately, immune to her shenanigans. "Is the platypus staying for dinner?" he asked. "Cuz I only got out so many plates."

Elle laughed.

He nudged her companionably and went to talk to the General.

"Here," Jack said, handing Elle a soda and stealing her tongs. "I'll take care of these, go say hi."

Elle made a face at him.

"Go," he ordered, pointing the tongs at her. "Make friends. That's an order."

Elle chose the easiest target: Hammond's daughter. "Hi," she said, coming up to them. "I'm Elle."

"Hi," Hammond's daughter said. "I'm Kelly. This is Allan. You're new to the base, right? An Air Force officer?"

"No," Elle said, shaking their hands. She grinned ruefully. "I grew up kind of a navy brat, but no. Civilian all the way. I work mostly with Daniel."

"Navy, huh," Allan said. "Ships?"

"Yup," Elle said and sipped at her soda. "Do you guys get to visit the general often?"

"We see dad almost every weekend," Kelly said. "The girls would be over every day if we let them."

"That's great," Elle said.

"How about you? Any family nearby?" Allan asked.

Elle winced. Even mentally prepared, the question still stung. "Uh, no. My, uh, no. Just me."

"Sorry," Allan said, grimacing.

Elle waved a hand. "It's fine. You didn't know." She gestured to SG1, who had clustered around the grill to observe the last burger, which was going up in flames. "They've sort of taken me under their wing. Everywhere you go, you find your people. And your dad is a huge part of that. He's been very welcoming to someone who doesn't know how anything works around here."

"That's dad," Kelly agreed.

"What do you do again?" Allan asked.

Elle smiled. "I'm a consultant."

"Right..."

"Food's up," Jack hollered.

Everyone meandered through the food line, and Elle glanced over. Cassie was sitting on the bench overlooking the grass yard. Elle got another can of coke and went to sit next to her. "Hi. I'm Elle."

"Hi. I know." Cassie studied her for a long moment. "Are you from "Canada", too?"

"I'm from Oregon," Elle said. "That's like South Canada. Ish."

"South Canada," Cassie echoed, unimpressed. She popped a tater tot in her mouth. "I know where Oregon is."

Elle looked at Sam for help.

Sam, oh so helpfully, waved a hand at her but stayed where she was, talking to Janet and Teal'c.

Elle cleared her throat. "So. You're, uh, in middle school?"

"High school," Cassie said. "I'm a freshman."

"Cool."

"Are you a senior?" Cassie asked.

"Uh, no," Elle said. "I technically never entered high school. I disappeared the year before I could."

Cassie turned to look at her with interest. "So you dropped out of school?"

"Well, no," Elle temporized, "I, uh, homeschooled on the ship I was on. I finished my basic schooling, though, and I was taking college-level classes."

"Oh," Cassie said. "Was it hard? On the spaceship?"

Elle glanced around, checking for civilians. The assorted Hammonds were on the other side of the deck, chatting with Jack and Daniel. "Yeah," she said, remembering those early days, full of frustration and homesickness. "The math was stupid-hard for a long time. And all the history... it was like, 400 planets worth'. So much history."

"So much history," Cassie agreed. "Why do they make you study all the wars in the United States? It's so dumb. It's not even that old."

"Nationalistic propaganda," Elle said. "All the countries do it."

"Propaganda," Cassie echoed. "Like, the Goa'uld? Making everyone think they were gods."

Elle nodded. "Yeah."

Cassie nodded slowly. "If she had been a real god, she wouldn't have killed everyone." She picked the pickles out of her burger and ate them separately. "Was it a god that ruined your life, too?"

"No," Elle said, wrinkling her nose. "At least I haven't found one that claims responsibility. Although I do have a personal beef with a Goa'uld named Kepher."

"Beef?"

"Reason to pick a fight," Elle explained.

"Oh."

Just as Elle had taken a huge bite of burger, Cassie asked, "Do you miss them? Your parents?"

Elle chewed her burger for a long time. "Almost every day," she said after swallowing.

Cassie nodded. "Me too," she whispered and stuffed a tater tot in her mouth. "Would you go back?"

"I can't," Elle said, and the phrase stuck in her throat.

"But if you could," Cassie pressed, studiously avoiding her gaze. "Would you go home?"

Elle smiled wistfully and said, "You can never go home again." Then she saw Cassie's expression and hastily added, "Not just us, I mean. Everyone. It's a quote. You can never go home again."

"Why would someone say that?"

"Because home's not a place," Elle said slowly, struggling to articulate a feeling she's never actually felt. "Home is a time and a place and the people in that space. You go back, and it's all different. Even if it never changed, if I went back, I'd be different. I wouldn't fit in the space I had for myself. It's just, like. You can't go back to the way things were. You can only move forward."

Cassie's eyes were slowly filling with tears. "That's..."

"I know," Elle said, leaning over so their shoulders were pressed together, warm and grounded. "But that means somewhere out there in the past, in the tesseract of time, you're there. You're home, perfectly preserved for all eternity. You never left that moment of spacetime, and you're with your family. That moment is out there."

They ate their burgers in contemplative silence, and then Cassie said, "Do you like nail polish?"

Elle smiled. "Yeah."

-/\-

Now that things had settled down, Elle started working her way through the orientation program that heralded an assignment to the Stargate Program. This included the language modules. 'Space Egyptian for Dummies' was the first one. 'Space Asgardian for Dunces' was the second one. 'Space Latin for Dolts' was the third. "Who named these?"

"Who do you think?" Daniel asked, amused.

"So he self-classified as a dolt?" Elle asked, stifling a laugh.

"No. He came up with those titles when we had to put the Marines through diplomatic training last year. Too many Americans are monolingual for too long, they end up slightly disadvantaged."

"Makes sense. And if these things ever got out-"

"Who'd think it was anything but a bunch of bored nerds making up languages," Daniel finished wryly. "Exactly."

Elle smiled. "All hail conlangs. How come 'Space Latin for Dolts' is only two lessons long?"

"It's everything we deciphered from Jack's time speaking Ancient. He doesn't remember much of it, but I wrote everything down."

Elle thought wistfully of the many, many files she'd saved when her brain was taken over by alien programming. "Yeah... if I weren't scared of my brain potentially melting, I would've remembered more of it, too."

As if summoned by their thought processes, Jack popped up in the doorway to Daniel's office. "Elle, come on, let's go."

"Let's go where?" she asked, getting up to follow him out the door with a wave to Daniel.

"CI Munoz has time for your combat assessment," Jack declared.

"Confidential informant?" Elle asked, confused. "I didn't know we had those. From where?"

"Combat Instructor," Jack corrected. "He's the one that makes everyone's PT routines and certifies everyone for combat readiness. He does Daniel's and the other civilians' as well, don't worry."

"He can't be worse than Worf," Elle said dryly.

They went into the gym. At the back, on the other side of the showers, was an office.

CI Munoz was a slim, well-built man who looked so unassuming Elle was immediately wary. This was a man who, Elle was certain, could fight a Klingon and win. Definitely worse than Worf. Worf was, at his core, a bureaucrat who liked to write poetry. This man was not.

"Lt, this is Elle Wilcott," Jack said.

"Sir," Elle said.

"Call me Alex," he said, giving her an affable smile. He leaned on the edge of his desk. "So. Tell me about your background."

Elle looked at Jack.

"Lt. Munoz is aware of your history," Jack confirmed.

Elle clasped her hands in front of her in mild debriefing mode. "Background. Started training with Star Fleet security officers when I was thirteen. Learned how to fight people twice my bone density well enough to run away from them. I can do the Vulcan nerve pinch. I know two forms of martial arts. One is a Vulcan practice, one is Klingon. I was at Level 3 on both of them when I, ahem, arrived here."

"Strength training?" he asked.

"A little bit. Mostly endurance training," Elle said. "20k in full kit. With a 20-lb backpack."

"There's 20 kilometers of deck on a starship?" Munoz asked, sounding impressed.

"If you cover it four or five times," Elle replied. "My security chief wanted me to play to my skills."

"Skills?" Munoz asked.

"Humans are pursuit predators," Elle said. "As opposed to Klingons, who can brawl all day long, humans can hunt and track all day and all night. Due to my unique circumstances, he wanted me to be able to walk myself out of any situation I might find myself in."

He grinned and nodded. "I think I like this chief of security. And this Vulcan nerve pinch? Are you able to teach that skill?"

"Only if the student has some latent ESP," Elle said. "For example, I could learn it. Captain Kirk could not."

"Latent ESP," Munoz said. "That's a thing?"

"Yes, sir."

Munoz made a face. "Interesting. We'll shelve that for now." He gestured to the door. "Colonel. If you could do a little sparring."

Jack made a face. "There's like three guys lifting weights right now who can do it."

"I need a real assessment," Munoz said.

"All right." He gestured at Elle. "Come on."

Elle followed him onto the sparring mats. They took their shoes off and tossed 'em to the side. "I haven't warmed up," she said, suddenly nervous.

"Real life," Jack said, giving her a shrug. He gave her a gentle grin. "Okay. Pretend I'm one of those NID idiots. Come at me, full force."

Elle frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. You're not gonna hurt me." Underneath the easygoing smile which she knew was purely for her own benefit, he was all focus. The only way she would land a hit is if he let her.

Elle blew out a breath. "Kay." She circled him warily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Munoz taking notes.

The colonel lunged at her. She reacted instinctively and darted out of the way. He lunged again, circling closer. He was aiming to get into her personal space. He grabbed at her.

She kicked at his knee, elbowed him in the gut, and ducked her head to avoid a headlock. She tried to roll away, didn't quite make it due to his grip on her arm, and pushed back into his personal space to nerve-strike him in the side. He went down with a grunt, his left side completely numb. "Ow," she said, shaking out her hand. "You have hard bones."

"You have pointy elbows," he wheezed, tapping the mat with his right hand. "What was that."

"Nerve strike," Elle said, rubbing her neck. "Sorry, not sorry. It'll wear off in like fifteen minutes."

He tried to move his left arm and failed. "That was not a regular nerve strike, was it."

"No." Elle sat down on the mat next to him. "That was a Vulcan technique. Takes that branch totally offline."

"I thought Vulcans were pacifists," Jack said, poking at his dead arm curiously.

"They are," Elle said. "They will peacefully kick your butt in the most efficient way possible."

"That was efficient," Munoz agreed, coming over to them. "Colonel, you all right?"

"Well, my knee hurts like a," he cleared his throat, "but otherwise, fine. Numb. But fine." He swatted at Elle with his free hand. "Hey. Brat. You said you were Level 3 in those martial arts."

"Level 3 in mok'bara is undistinguished novice," Elle said. She smirked. "Level 3 in suus mahna is, roughly, 'one who will not die today because of others' actions towards their person.' It's a long Pre-reform word."

"Level 3 is hold-your-own," Munoz said, covering his face with his hand to hide a smile.

"Yes, sir," Elle said demurely.

"Brat," Jack said again.

The three Marines in the weightlifting section of the gym were looking over at them and muttering amongst themselves. Munoz ignored them. "I'd say close-combat rated," he said. "You pass. I'd like to get you into a strength training program and keep up your endurance training. You're gonna go on a lot of hikes."

"Yay," Elle said dryly.

"Don't worry. I think Colorado Springs is a lot more scenic than the hallways of a starship," Munoz said. "I'd like you to work with Captain Carter. A little Air Force boxing wouldn't do you any harm. And you should probably join Daniel's aikido class in town."

Elle looked up. "Huh? He takes aikido?"

"Of course he does," Jack said. "He's not a soldier."

"He's a ninja," Elle said slowly.

Jack sighed. "He's not a ninja. He's only been going for three months, for crying out loud."

"Ninja," Elle said firmly. "I want in."

"Great," Munoz said, smothering a laugh. "Base personnel get a discount."

"Cool."

"I think I can move my fingers."

Elle looked over. "That's phantom," she said.

"Great. So Vulcans just leave people to bake in the desert."

"Hey, if the le-matya gets ya, that's your own fault," Elle said dryly. "You didn't commune with it and convince it not to eat you."

Jack sighed again.

Munoz helped him get over to a bench and sit up. "Marine," he called, gesturing over one of the men who were weight-lifting and staring at their little group.

"Sir." He saluted, glancing curiously at Elle.

"You up for a demonstration?" Munoz asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Great." Munoz waved Elle forward. "Vulcan neck pinch, please."

"Sure." Elle reached up (why were all the Marines so tall?) and neck-pinched him. He dropped like a bag of rocks. The other two Marines gaped unbecomingly. "That's so satisfying," she said, stepping back to let Munoz check the man's pulse.

"Yeah, we definitely need to learn that," Jack decided. "As soon as I can feel my legs, we're going to the range."

Elle sighed. That was the problem with being attached to military outfits. "I already know how to shoot."

"You can shoot energy weapons," Jack said. "You need to learn to shoot real guns."

"I can shoot real guns," Elle said. "Worf made sure of that."

"I want you at 21st-century standards," Jack said.

Elle raised an eyebrow. "So uncivilized," she said.

"Don't quote Star Wars when I'm trying to be practical. We're not space monks."

Elle scowled at him. "Hey, I was the one who came up with the idea of using machine guns on the Borg in the first place," she said.

"Like in the movie?" Jack asked.

"What movie?"

"Star Trek: First Contact."

Elle paused, surprised. "That's already out?"

"Yeah. It was good. You get the idea from the movie?"

"Of course I did. That movie's like 20 years old." Elle frowned. "Well. It was. When I was little."

Jack tilted his head. "Did it work?"

"It did," Elle said. "Commander Shelley was extremely upset about it. Something about savage time-traveling Americans."

"See, it's in your blood." Jack shook his feet out. "Aaaagggghhhh. The pins and needles are killing me."

"Sorry."

"Nah, that was good. I'm glad you already come self-sufficient. Getting Daniel to learn a combination and hit at full power was hard enough."

Elle smiled. "Well. If I can headbutt a Klingon."

"I bet." He braced his feet and stood up with a groan. "Ugh. Let's go."

They went down two doors to the range. Most SGC personnel used this one instead of the long-range one on the surface because they could practice with the zats down here. Jack got one of the ranges set up for them and put down four different weapons. "M4. P90. 9-mil. Zat. Go ahead."

Elle put on the earmuffs. She picked up the M4. "For the record, I hate this," she said.

"Noted," Jack said dryly.

Elle braced her feet, lifted the weapon, checked it, and sighted. She shot five taps at the black target paper down the range. "Eh?"

Jack squinted down range. "That was all on the black," he said. He looked at her in disbelief. "You said you didn't like guns."

"I don't," Elle said, making a face. "But we were going to be fighting the Borg. It was our Chief of Security's job to make sure our crew had actual proficiency with ballistic weapons. He didn't want us blowing out an entire section into space."

"That wasn't a fluke?"

"No."

"Next one," Jack said.

The P90 went the same way. On the black target, if not grouped. The 9-mil was a little worse. The zat, the first two shots went wild, but she hit the target the following two times. "If I hit it again, it's going to vaporize," Elle said.

"I think we're good," Jack said dryly. "You're done."

"Phew."

"I want you in here at least once a week with me or Captain Carter," Jack said.

"Aw, come on," Elle started.

"No," he said firmly. "And I want you to practice with that phaser, too."

Elle sighed.

"Welcome to the Air Force," he said, patting her on the back. "You're gonna get real used to it."

Elle sighed again. "Q, can I go back to the Federation utopia? This can't be good for my blood pressure."

No answer, yet again. He must have Air Pods in.

Jack patted her on the back again. "It's okay," he said. "We'll just polish up your aim, and you'll turn us all into diplomats. Equal trade."

-/\-

Elle was, once again, trying to finish the orientation briefings. There was a binder's worth of information for the Archaeology, Anthropology, and Linguistics Department, otherwise known as ' The Artifacts.' The nanites may have read it all, but for Elle to be useful, she also had to read the whole thing.

"Who's kid is she?"

The muttered question made her pause in recognizing the difference between Nox and Furling symbols.

"Don't know. There isn't a Wilcott anywhere on the base, is there?"

"No, but you never know. Could be her mom's name."

"True."

Elle pursed her lips, trying not to look at the group of airmen three tables down in the mess. Gossip travels at warp speed, no matter what universe you're in.

They didn't know she had good hearing. They continued to speculate. "Hammond's granddaughters are too small, he's out."

"Maybe she's the colonel's?"

"Nah. I'm telling you, the colonel only had one kid, and he's dead."

"I don't know, man," the first guy said. "She took down the colonel in the gym yesterday with some sort of freaky nerve strike. And dropped Ingerman like a rock with some other nerve thing."

"Is she an alien?"

"None of the aliens we've met can do that."

Elle brought up her coffee cup to hide her grin.

"You think she's Jackson's?"

"She came through the gate, you guys. She's not from here."

"Someone said she was from Oregon."

"That's a lie. Remember that other little girl? She's from 'Canada.'"

"Why are they picking spots on the west coast?"

"You ever seen a alien with a New Jersey accent, idiot? It has to be somewhere neutral."

Elle choked on her laugh. She cleared her throat and collected her things. She stopped by their table on the way out. "It's not nepotism," she said pleasantly, meeting the sergeant's eyes. "I'm not related to anyone on this planet. If you were wondering." She left them behind, hissing reprimands at each other. She held in her laughter until she reached her own office and nearly laughed herself to tears.

-/\-

SG-12 came back later that evening, bringing with them the only other full-time archaeologist on staff.

"Elle, this is Dr. Robert Rothman," Daniel said, introducing them. "And one of my friends from back in the day."

"He was the best mentor," Robert said, shaking Elle's hand. "Hi."

"Hi. Elle Wilcott."

"She's going to be working with us," Daniel said. "We're sharing her with Captain Carter's team."

"Oh. Double majors?"

"Engineering and linguistics," Elle said, giving a helpless shrug. "Couldn't make up my mind, so I did both."

"Good for you." Robert slid his glasses up his nose. "We could use another linguist."

"How was P3X, wherever you went?" Elle asked.

"Wet," Robert said dryly. "At one point it was definitely an Asgard colony. Lost a lot of the wall carvings to erosion, though. You know about Asgard yet?"

"She knows," Daniel said. "She's been here three weeks already."

"I go on one extended expedition and we get new people," Robert said, shaking his head. "I'll have that prelim report for you later, Daniel."

"Sure, just get some sleep first."

"Sleep?" Robert asked wryly. "What's that?"

Elle turned to look at Daniel. "Maybe once we start hiring, you guys will sleep more than six hours at a time."

Daniel didn't look convinced. "Maybe."

-/\-

"I don't think I should go," Daniel said.

"You're our leading academic expert," Jack said. "Won't they take it better from someone who knows what they're talking about?"

"Jack, before Catherine found me, I was about to be blacklisted in the academic community for my wild theories."

"Which were correct," Elle pointed out.

Daniel wrinkled his nose. "They won't know that until they accept the job offer."

They settled on sending one of the research assistant captains who worked in archives. "A mysterious job offer from a secret government program with a good signing bonus and an NDA the size of War and Peace," Elle said, satisfied. "If they're crazy enough, they'll take it."

Seven of the ten professors were hooked. The other three were too sensible to take the deal, more fool they. Ah well. When they got around to the international people, there would be a bigger pool to draw from.

"It'll be nice having more specialties here," Robert said when they had their weekly Artifacts meeting. "You can only learn so many languages."

"You can always learn more languages," said Daniel, Language Learner Extraordinaire.

"Linguistics Georg is an outlier," Elle said, pointing at him. "You don't count."

"Who's George?" Robert asked.

Elle cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back, assuming her best Spock-lecture tone. "The "average person eats 3 spiders a year" factoid is actually just a statistical error. The average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in a cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier and should not have been counted."

The two men shared a glance. "What?" Daniel asked.

Robert pointed at Daniel. "Linguistics Georg, learns 50 languages a year and should not be counted. I got it."

Elle gave him a high-five. "Yeah!"