Stargate SG1 - Roswell

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Authors: Jennifer Fallon, Sonny Whitelaw
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waiting team of technicians, that Vala would get no more answers. Returning an encouraging smile and brief wave from Dr. Lee, she raised the hatch, checked to make certain it was sealed, and went forward, muttering, “Cy Young. Second no hitter. Highlanders. Got it.”
     
    The copilot's chair—did these things even need a copilot? she wondered as she settled into the seat beside O'Neill—was far more comfy than the awkward and pretentious Ha'tak throne she'd once occupied. “So, what other goodies do you have stashed away in Areas One through Fifty?”
     
    O'Neill's dark glasses, as far as Vala could tell, served little purpose other than to lend his already saturnine features an air of inscrutability. She decided to prod it and see what popped out. “You haven't a clue, have you?”
     
    There was a moment of stony silence followed by, “There are no Areas One to Fifty.”
     
    Judging by his tone he was telling the truth, and oddly, it made complete sense. The Goa'uld, Vala decided, had never stood a chance against such an unpredictable and altogether perverse people.
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    “Jumper One you are cleared for takeoff,” Carter called over the radio.
     
    “Thought we'd settled on Homer,” O'Neill muttered.
     
    “I quite like Dr. Lee's Tempus Fugit,” Vala said.
     
    The jumper lifted smoothly off the hangar floor, rotated a half turn and exited through a tall doorway and outside into bright sunlight. A paved surface stretched out before them. Apparently it had been built to allow their archaic winged aircraft to become airborne. Given the level of technology now available to them, Vala couldn't understand the attachment the inhabitants of the planet had for this primitive mode of transport, except perhaps that their 'jets' created criss-cross patterns called contrails in an otherwise cloudless sky.
     
    “Tempus Fugit is the mission name,” General Carter informed them over the radio.
     
    The way in which O'Neill's mouth twisted into an uncertain line prompted Vala to say, “It means—”
     
    “I know what it means. I'd just as sooner forget the three months of Daniel teaching me Latin, is all.”
     
    Vala strongly suspected that had something to do with the favorite cereal comment he'd made earlier. While it might prove vaguely entertaining to entice the story from him, she decided that it would be more fun extracting it from Daniel.
     
    “Heading due east to an altitude of six hundred miles. We can't track you on radar now you're in stealth mode,” Carter added, “so advise any course deviation.”
     
    “Why do we need stealth mode over miles and miles absolutely nothing?” Vala wondered. The view was singularly uninspiring. To their left, a wide swathe of dirty white saltpan glinted in the sunlight. Everywhere else, the land was sunbaked and barren, reminding Vala a little of Asdak's world.
     
    An insert in the HUD adjusted to display a magnified view of people having what looked like a picnic, not far from the base. Vala had noticed them earlier, but hadn't paid them much mind, as picnics seemed to be all the rage on Earth. Then she realized that they were all facing in one direction—toward the base. “What are the looking at?”
     
    “Us,” O'Neill replied.
     
    “But they can't see us because we're invisible...right?”
     
    The grin reappeared. “Exactly.”
     
    It took her a moment to process that, before she smiled. “Oh! I've got it now. I saw this on Sol's tapes. You don't want any of the people who already know that you're using advanced alien technology to know that you're using advanced alien technology.”
     
    With that mystery solved, she turned her interest to the darkening sky. The vague sense of oppression she felt when planet-bound receded at the first hint of stars.
     
    Vala had often contemplated the stars as a child, wondering if they truly were, as her father had once told her, the hearth fires of distant worlds inhabited by terrible gods.

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