Read Online Stargate SG1 - Roswell by Jennifer Fallon, Sonny Whitelaw - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Fallon, Sonny Whitelaw
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by the feel of it—was half on top of her, and the inertial dampeners had evidently decided that without his mind controlling them, they were free to do as they wished. Even injured and unconscious, though, O'Neill appeared to be maintaining some degree of control because the jumper's shield had done a commendable job. They hadn't burned to a crisp, for one thing, and from the lack of telltale hissing—and the fact they were still breathing—there were no leaks.
The first time jump had gone smoothly. Carter had provided them with this exact location, so it was likely this was no accident. It explained why Vala had smelled a scam. And the General's pointed glance at the First Aid kit took on a whole new meaning, too. “You could have given us just a bit more of a warning,” she muttered angrily. “I mean, how much trouble would it have been to say something along the lines of hang on !”
The pressure across her legs fell away and she spun backward.
Terrific, the inertial dampeners had kicked in but now they'd lost artificial gravity, presumably because O'Neill's unconscious mind was playing havoc with the controls. A segment of blue and white planet sped past the windscreen at an alarming rate, vanished, and then reappeared moments later. The jumper was spinning out of control in what looked—based on the next rotation—to be a rapidly decaying orbit.
Under any other circumstances Vala' priorities would be to regain control of the ship, assess the damage and find a way to either fix it or abandon ship—not necessarily in that order. Unfortunately jumpers were the one piece of technology the Ancients had—for whatever selfish reason—designed to be operated exclusively by them, or at least those bearing their genes. She grabbed a fistful of O'Neill's jacket in one hand, and, ducking the globs of blood streaming past, pushed against the upper bulkhead, hoping to jam him into the pilot's seat.
“General! C'mon, wakey wakey !”
Angling around beside him, she caught sight of his skull—literally, because even beneath the blood and gore, white bone was visible—and immediately abandoned that idea. Jack O'Neill wasn't going to wake at all unless he received medical attention very, very soon.
The Earth, partially in shadow now, skipped passed again and the interior of the jumper briefly plunged into darkness. Six telltale lights on the Asgard monitor caught her attention. She may not be able to access to the jumper's flight systems or the time machine, but Asgard technology was less finicky. Releasing her grip on O'Neill, she turned her full attention to the monitor.
Two signals were faint but so close that it was entirely possible they were one signal with a weak Doppler shifting accounting for the slight difference. The additional four were underground and immediately identifiable as Daniel, Cam, Sam and Teal'c.
General Carter had gotten them into this mess, Vala was certain of it; so she—or her younger self, at least—could bloody well get them out. Acquiring the four confirmed signals, she was about to beam them aboard when the transport also confirmed a lock on the one of the weaker signals, which, it now confirmed, was that of an Asgard.
Vala slammed the control and for a brief, gut-wrenching moment, she thought O'Neill had brought the jumper back in time several weeks too late. The stench of putrefaction hit her before the prone bodies had fully materialized in the tiny space behind the jumper's seats. Then a slightly damaged Asgard popped into existence on top of Daniel, prompting him to issue a high-pitched yelp.
“Well don't just float there!” Vala barked at the new arrivals—what was that smell?—who seemed to be doing a lot of gasping for air. “Help me get control of this thing.”
Having gone from full gravity to none to speak of in the blink of an eye, none of them appeared capable of controlling anything at the moment. The Asgard was in
The first time jump had gone smoothly. Carter had provided them with this exact location, so it was likely this was no accident. It explained why Vala had smelled a scam. And the General's pointed glance at the First Aid kit took on a whole new meaning, too. “You could have given us just a bit more of a warning,” she muttered angrily. “I mean, how much trouble would it have been to say something along the lines of hang on !”
The pressure across her legs fell away and she spun backward.
Terrific, the inertial dampeners had kicked in but now they'd lost artificial gravity, presumably because O'Neill's unconscious mind was playing havoc with the controls. A segment of blue and white planet sped past the windscreen at an alarming rate, vanished, and then reappeared moments later. The jumper was spinning out of control in what looked—based on the next rotation—to be a rapidly decaying orbit.
Under any other circumstances Vala' priorities would be to regain control of the ship, assess the damage and find a way to either fix it or abandon ship—not necessarily in that order. Unfortunately jumpers were the one piece of technology the Ancients had—for whatever selfish reason—designed to be operated exclusively by them, or at least those bearing their genes. She grabbed a fistful of O'Neill's jacket in one hand, and, ducking the globs of blood streaming past, pushed against the upper bulkhead, hoping to jam him into the pilot's seat.
“General! C'mon, wakey wakey !”
Angling around beside him, she caught sight of his skull—literally, because even beneath the blood and gore, white bone was visible—and immediately abandoned that idea. Jack O'Neill wasn't going to wake at all unless he received medical attention very, very soon.
The Earth, partially in shadow now, skipped passed again and the interior of the jumper briefly plunged into darkness. Six telltale lights on the Asgard monitor caught her attention. She may not be able to access to the jumper's flight systems or the time machine, but Asgard technology was less finicky. Releasing her grip on O'Neill, she turned her full attention to the monitor.
Two signals were faint but so close that it was entirely possible they were one signal with a weak Doppler shifting accounting for the slight difference. The additional four were underground and immediately identifiable as Daniel, Cam, Sam and Teal'c.
General Carter had gotten them into this mess, Vala was certain of it; so she—or her younger self, at least—could bloody well get them out. Acquiring the four confirmed signals, she was about to beam them aboard when the transport also confirmed a lock on the one of the weaker signals, which, it now confirmed, was that of an Asgard.
Vala slammed the control and for a brief, gut-wrenching moment, she thought O'Neill had brought the jumper back in time several weeks too late. The stench of putrefaction hit her before the prone bodies had fully materialized in the tiny space behind the jumper's seats. Then a slightly damaged Asgard popped into existence on top of Daniel, prompting him to issue a high-pitched yelp.
“Well don't just float there!” Vala barked at the new arrivals—what was that smell?—who seemed to be doing a lot of gasping for air. “Help me get control of this thing.”
Having gone from full gravity to none to speak of in the blink of an eye, none of them appeared capable of controlling anything at the moment. The Asgard was in
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