STARGATE: EXPLORER

by Lady Grey
Alpha/Beta by Jude

“His race is still very young,” declared the elder sympathetically, gazing from her perch in the tree branches at the human’s sleeping form. “This one has endured great pain.”

“So would anyone who has lost their world,” observed the one called Claire. “They have dangerous enemies, it would seem.”

“As we once had dangerous friends,” added the elder. She combed her pale green hair back with her fingers, her expression thoughtful. “And he has the Hub.”

“We could take it from him,” suggested another of the People.

“None of our kind can unlock it.  We cannot even touch the device,” Claire countered with a shake of her lavender head.  “We must wait for him to choose.  If we suggest that he do it, he might become suspicious and leave without unlocking it. We cannot allow that.”

“Then we should earn his confidence,” said the one with pink hair.

The elder agreed. “He trusts easily, but he must still be tried. The Council will determine if he will be accepted among us. I will fly ahead and make the request. We will meet at Shahr.”

“I will observe him and begin the inquisition,” agreed Claire. “Who will stay with me?” She glanced around, making eye contact with the others.

Two of the People nodded. The rest of the Sky Clan flew off into the night to make preparations for the trial, and Claire settled on the ground beside the fire that dwarfed her. She raised both hands and the flames began to sputter and die, extinguishing to glowing coals, then going completely out as she brought her arms downward. It would be better not to attract any curious wildlife to the light of the fire, making the job of watching over the People's visitor a little simpler.

After all, there was no need to advertise Sky's presence there as they left the canyons and advanced into the meadowlands. Grass Clan would undoubtedly have watched them coming and would be prepared. Until the Council determined how much to interact with the human, Grass would remain unseen. They were not as bold as Sky, but had a great cunning that set them apart from their smaller relatives.

Somewhere out there, many eyes were watching both the visitor and Sky Clan, messages were being sent, and Daniel Jackson's fate hung in the balance. The People had been fooled once, but they would not be caught off-guard again.

August 23

The Next Morning

Daniel sat up and blinked, gazing around at the unfamiliar landscape, looking for his new friends. Most of the crowd that had gathered around him the previous night was gone; only three of the aliens remained nearby. The one he had named Claire sat on the rock beside the cold fire pit, the others perched on branches in the tree above him, keeping watch.

He thought about names for the other two, reaching for his glasses and putting them on as he considered what to call them.

One had rosy pink locks. Another had longer hair than the others he’d seen, royal blue at the roots fading to pale blue at the ends, and all the way down to the fairy's shoulders. He wondered if they artificially colored their hair or if the rainbow of shades was natural, but he decided not to ask. The subject might come up in conversation later.

“Good morning,” he greeted them with a slight smile. It was getting much easier to converse in the language of the Ancients, and he was glad he'd been able to find a communication bridge with these intriguing little aliens.

“You rested well,” observed Claire. “The kill did not disturb you?”

Daniel’s smile disappeared. “Kill?”

“A ghidan was hunting as you slept.” Claire turned away from Daniel and clasped her hands behind her. Her clear wings, glistening with iridescent color in the morning sunshine, folded down against her back and thighs with an audible snap. “Would you like to see it?”

“Um.” He needed to pee, but decided to go with the invitation first. He didn’t want to be rude. “All right, if it’s not far. Lead the way.”

Claire's wings flicked up into position, and she zoomed off, with Daniel following at a brisk pace. Twenty feet away, Claire hovered in mid-air above the grass, and Daniel stopped when he could see the dead creature, hidden by the knee-high blades. 

“Reminds me of a warthog, only uglier,” he observed, staring down at the tawny body marked with light brown vertical stripes. The coloring would camouflage it well in the tall vegetation. The animal had big, mean-looking tusks erupting from its elongated muzzle and small, evil eyes. “What does it eat?”

Claire looked pointedly at Daniel, one fine lavender eyebrow arched. “Whatever it can scavenge or kill,” she replied with a shrug. Her meaning was clear; if they hadn’t gotten to the beast first, it would likely have attempted to make Daniel its next meal.

Deep wounds had been gouged into the animal, and there was a lot of blood on the carcass and the surrounding area. Daniel decided he had seriously underestimated the fairies’ ability to protect him.

“I suppose we are even now,” he said softly. “Thank you for protecting me.”

Claire chuckled. “We did not save you from the ghidan. We killed it for you to eat.”

Blue-hair zoomed into view, performing a lovely aerobatic twirl. “And we do not keep a tally of debts. Your food supply is limited. This will feed you for some time.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you.” Daniel stared at the dead animal. He didn’t quite know what to think about this gift, but his other need was becoming more urgent. “Excuse me. I have to go. Um.” He pointed to nothing in particular and moved away from the carcass and his camp, looking for a little privacy to relieve himself.

He didn’t get any and had to endure being studied while he urinated, his face flaming. Then he had to explain why he had turned that fancy shade of bright red, after a lengthy account of what he’d intended to do and that he wanted to do it alone, then being flatly denied discretion. They wanted to learn about him and found his customs interesting; apparently, they had no familiarity with the concept of privacy.

“Do your people not make waste?” he asked, feeling slightly irritated as he buttoned his trousers. He didn’t look at any of them as he walked purposefully back to the camp to restart his fire and make coffee. Breakfast would wait.

Pink-hair patted the shiny black suit encasing its body, which Daniel now noted in the daylight had broad shoulders, narrow hips and a distinctly generous male package. “This garment converts our waste to fuel for the khemba.”

“The what? I do not know that word.”

The fairy spun around quickly in mid-air, putting his back to Daniel. “The vest that houses our wings and flying apparatus. It is called khemba.”

Daniel looked closer and noticed the tiny joints attaching the buzzing wings to a small, slightly bulging casing on the being’s back. He’d thought the wings were natural features, along with the firefly light, but now realized that both of those devices were cleverly designed machines.

He had ignored these aliens in the beginning, when he'd believed them to be merely insects, likening them to dragonflies of Earth. Now he understood they were anything but such simple creatures.  These people were far more advanced than he had initially assumed.

“Wow." Daniel searched through his memory for an appropriately expressive word in Ancient. He grinned and shook his head, thinking how foolish his articulation of wonder would sound in a language other than English. Slang just didn't translate properly. "The s'resh is a fascinating device.”

“Yes. It gives us shelter from the elements, protects us from injury, and offers many tools for our use. We take it off only to mate, or when we return to—”

Claire buzzed into the speaker’s view and hissed at him, cutting him off. She looked furious. “Enough! You are too free with your mouth.”

The pink-haired one growled back, obviously irritated at the command, and the two tangled in a mad swirl of too-fast-to-see movement. Claire darted at him as soon as they separated, intent on driving him back, and finally Pink flew away to a higher branch of the tree, sitting down in a sulky huff.

As Claire turned back to face Daniel, her face was composed in a mask of triumph, green eyes half closed but glittering with leashed anger. “We are a passionate people,” she said in a low growl. “Apologies.” She offered Daniel a contrite bow.  “Sometimes we forget ourselves.  We have had no visitors for many generations, and our manners have lapsed.”

“All is well,” Daniel assured her. “Forgive me if I ask too many questions. I only want to learn, but I understand there may be things you do not want to share with me yet.” 

He smiled, looking for a change of subject. “I will now make a drink my people favor, called coffee. Would any of you like to try some?”

“I will,” the blue-haired one volunteered gaily, flying past his face.

“Female?” he asked cautiously, reaching into one of the storage bins on the rear of the Kawasaki mule for the items he'd need to make the brew.

The fairy nodded and gave him a bright smile.

“I will call you Lapis, after a beautiful semi-precious stone from Earth.  It was often used in ancient Egyptian jewelry.” He explained a little about Egyptian culture and history while he started a new fire and made himself some java from his dwindling stores.

He considered names for the other fairy.  Daniel wanted something manly for the pink-haired guy, who was scrappy but friendly, and obviously didn’t like being reined in. Daniel’s eyes misted a little as he decided on another commemorative name.  “My best friend’s name was Jack O’Neill,” he called up to the top of the tree. “You remind me of him a little, so I will call you Jack. Do you approve?” 

The pink fairy stared down at Daniel, and his scowl morphed into a wry, satisfied smile. “Honored,” he returned with a bob of his head. “You must tell me all about this Jack.”

“He was a great warrior,” said Daniel thickly, swirling the black coffee around in his cup to cool it, “and my best friend. He was a simple, yet very complicated man. He loved certain animals on Earth called dogs, children, our country, and our world, not necessarily in that order. And an intoxicating drink we call beer. And The Simpsons.” The fairies wouldn't get that last reference, but there was no translating the name or the premise of the animated television series.

“He was very entertaining. I think you would have liked him immediately. Or else he would have infuriated you at first contact and started a war.”  Daniel smiled, his grief easing a tiny bit as he remembered all the things about Colonel Jack O’Neill that he loved and would miss. “There was not always a middle ground with him.”

Maybe Jack would have been a little perturbed by Daniel tacking his moniker onto a fairy with pink hair, but since he wasn't around to make his objection known, Daniel decided to stick with his original choice.

The newly-named Jack swooped down, artfully dodging the branches, and plopped onto Daniel’s shoulder. “I believe I would like this friend of yours. What were his skills?”

“He was a great pilot of our flying machines.  And a commander of many warriors.”

Glancing up at Claire with a smug smile, Jack challenged, “A commander. Hah!”

“So you dream,” said Claire dryly with a shake of her lavender head.

Daniel took a sip of the coffee to test the temperature, then offered the cup to Jack. “Careful, it’s very hot.” He held it still, the cup braced against his shoulder, but realized that wasn't going to work; the rim of the cup was much too big to fit into the little guy's mouth.

He dipped his finger into the warm liquid and held it up, offering up a tiny bead to try.

Jack licked at the drop. He immediately made a face and stuck out his tongue with distaste. “Ehhh. Bitter.”

“I suppose it is an acquired taste,” Daniel agreed. Lapis landed on his other shoulder to sample the brew and had two laps from his fingertip, but Claire chose not to give the drink a try, so Daniel finished the cup by himself.

Later, as he skinned and dressed the ghidan carcass they had so obligingly killed for him, he answered their never-ending questions about him and his life back on Earth. He put a haunch near the cold fire pit, intending to cook it for dinner that night, slicing the rest of the meat into thin strips and hanging it on low tree limbs to begin drying. He was halfway through deciding what to do with the surplus remains, taking a moment to rest both his body and his vocal cords, when a cool flicker of shade passed over him. 

It was a big shadow, and he looked up immediately.

The closest approximation to any animal he’d ever seen was an artist’s recreation of Archaeopteryx. The flying creature was as much lizard as bird, and Daniel couldn’t decide if it was covered in feathers or scales. The underside of its body and wings were light blue, close to the color of the sky, but the top was dark blue with red and yellow patches, as bright and bold as a macaw, barely glimpsed as it banked into a turn high above him. Its beak was sharply hooked, indicative of it being a carnivore or scavenger -- some kind of raptor -- and its wingspan was at least twelve feet, certainly big enough to think of a half-starved human as a suitable dinner.

Alarmed now, Daniel watched the bird-like thing wheel and come back toward him.  Instinctively, he squatted down, his field knife clutched in his blood-slicked grip. If he ran, he might attract the creature's attention, but it might also have been interested in the carcass he was handling. He hoped that was what the predator wanted, and would gladly give up the ghidan without a fight.

He stepped away from the carcass, moving slowly, keeping his gaze on the circling bird, stealing a glance at the last place he'd seen Claire and Jack hovering.  That was when he noticed his companions were gone. 

“Where did everyone go?” he called warily, trying to hide in the tall grass and still look around for his new friends.

A rosy streak flashed by him, buzzing in his ear, causing him to turn almost in time to dodge the talons of a second bird that had come up behind him in stealthy surprise. Razor-sharp claws raked his left shoulder, cutting through the tactical vest, BDU jacket and T-shirt, digging into the meat of his muscles as he clamped his teeth down on a scream. 

Whirling around with his right hand, he stabbed upward into the base of the creature's leg, just as he was hoisted a couple of feet into the air by the raptor’s momentum.  With a harsh squawk, the thing released him, flapping wildly, knocked out of its flight path by his strike and unbalanced by the sudden release of Daniel's weight. Startled and hurt, the lizard-bird unsuccessfully struggled to regain its equilibrium and increase altitude in an effort to flee the attack from its intended prey. 

Falling back to the ground, Daniel’s full weight landed hard on his left foot, which turned underneath him, sending spears of bright pain up his calf and into his knee and hip. This time, he did cry out as his leg crumpled, his momentum carrying both him and the huge predator to the ground. Daniel collapsed hard onto his wounded shoulder, landing half on top of the bird.  Screeching its protest at this unexpected assault, frantic wings beat about his head, knocking off his glasses.

The creature lashed out with its sharp beak, raking it down Daniel’s back as it tried to haul itself out from under him. Half blind with pain and panic, he managed to jerk his knife free.  He was instinctively aware the bird would go for his eyes, so he closed them tight, tucking his chin down to his chest and swinging his arm back and forth over his head, slashing and stabbing with the blade, not daring to look for a target.  He felt its beak tearing at his hand, but he couldn't risk getting off the bird or letting go of the knife handle.

“Roll back!” called a small voice not far from his ear.

Without thinking, Daniel obeyed, flipping onto his back on top of the bird, effectively pinning its writhing head to the ground. Another quick swipe with his blade, this time with a more deliberate target, and the thing was dead, still jerking and flopping, but silent now, and no longer attacking him. He lay still, panting, bleeding, and sweating, trying to decide just how badly he’d been hurt.

He rolled to his right, using that hand to help him get to his knees, still clutching the knife in a desperate grip and gasping as he fought to drag some air into his agonized body.  He’d sustained deep cuts in his upper left shoulder, and his left ankle was either badly sprained or broken.  Blood from his own wounds, or the bird’s, or both, was gluing his T-shirt and jacket to his torso.

He knew he couldn't be distracted by his injuries or pain, not yet.  There had been two of the creatures, and he'd killed only one of them. The other was probably still nearby, and so were the fairies.  Tears stinging his eyes, he blinked and scrubbed at them with his sleeve, then lifted his head to look for his friends. 

He spied Jack hovering just above the knee-high grass surrounding him, pink hair the only recognizable feature Daniel could see without his glasses.  “Is everyone all right?” he called out.  He squinted at the blurry dot that was Claire a little further back, coming up from the direction of the warthog kill, Lapis trailing her by several feet. A brief search of the surrounding ground found Daniel's lost eyewear, and he ducked down to scoop them up and push them onto his face, then aim his worried gaze back at his tiny friends.

“The other sh’khan!” cried Claire, zooming toward Daniel, pointing behind him. “It is attacking Grass Clan!”

The other lizard-bird, thought Daniel.

Claire whizzed off in the direction she’d indicated.

“You cannot reach our brother in time!” called Jack, who sped off after her, a pink blur of blinding motion.

Daniel struggled to get to his feet, carrying his weight on his uninjured right leg and shakily using his left only for balance. Not far away, he saw the first lizard-bird swooping down like an eagle, wings folded back to reduce drag, legs extended and claws open, reaching for its intended prey. Its target was a barely-visible tuft of silvery hair sticking up above the top of the tawny grass. 

Claire was only halfway there, and so small against the massive bird.

After only an instant spent weighing his options, Daniel dropped his knife and reached for the holster on his right hip. He unsnapped the Beretta and drew it, thumbing off the safety as he raised it to aim.  He drew a bead on the bird’s body and squeezed off one shot.  The recoil jerked his arm upward, sending a shockwave into his body and making him clench his teeth against the pain. The flying predator jerked in the air as the bullet hit home, and Daniel quickly put another into it, just to make sure he’d killed it.

When it crashed to the ground without touching its mark, limp and lifeless, Daniel collapsed, landing hard on his buttocks. Stunned and shaken, he gazed down at himself, at the blood seeping through his jacket, trickling over his left arm hand. His wounds were still sharp with pain, making it hard to catch his breath. His damaged right hand wouldn't open and he had to pry his pistol out of his grip with the other one, gasping as his injured flesh flexed with the movement.

He pushed the safety back into place with his left hand and laid the Beretta on the ground, glancing around for his companions, then off into the distance toward the horizon, trying to see if the newcomer might be approaching. The silver tuft had disappeared, its owner no doubt shocked by the roar of the pistol and the sight of a sh’khan dropping dead in front of it. The fairies' Grass Clan friend was safe; that was all that mattered to Daniel.

Lapis floated into his line of sight. “Well done, friend,” she said with a congratulatory smile.

Daniel just nodded.  Still panting and gasping for breath, he studied his left foot, where his boot was constricting him.  He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it off without some cutting, but he didn’t have spares in the mule. He didn’t even know if he could make it back to camp in that shape. He decided it would be better to try to get it off before it swelled even more, so he bent his leg to begin unlacing the footwear. Every movement was infused with bright pain, but he had to get this done immediately.

He let his left arm dangle until he had the laces worked free with his bleeding right hand, trying to give himself as much of a chance to rest as possible. The warm sunshine was making him sweat, and tears mixed with the salty droplets running into his eyes and down his face as he struggled to get the boot off his swollen foot.  Both hands gripping the leather uppers, the boot finally slipped free, and he fell backward with a cry of agony, rolling quickly onto his uninjured right side.

Keening softly and concentrating only on breathing, he didn’t move when the sea of tall, tawny blades parted and a member of what had to be the Grass Clan made an appearance.

Squinting from the throbbing pain, Daniel was more than a little surprised at what he saw.

The alien was about three feet tall, with the same oversized eyes, delicate nose, and small mouth as the fairies, but he was many times their diminutive size and much stockier in build. He seemed to be male, since his mouth was framed with a wispy mustache and a long, silky beard.  Some of his silvery hair had been pulled up into a tufted ponytail on top of his head, the rest draping down his back in a long mane. Faint lines, probably indicative of advancing age, creased his face, and his oversized irises were a remarkable shade of purple.

He had a distinctively different style of dress from his smaller fairy cousins; the black jumpsuit, helmet, and mechanical wings were noticeably absent. This fellow wore a tan tunic, brown pants with lots of pockets, and tan boots. He wore a brown and green striped cape thrown over his shoulders, and riding on his left hip was a pouch fastened to his belt.

He gave Daniel a rather stilted bow.  “I thank you for my life,” he said formally.  His voice was gravelly but pleasant, another hint at his age. He spoke the language of the Ancients with a lyrical accent, more like chanting than speaking.

Daniel just nodded against the flattened grass, lying still on his side. "Welcome," he panted, then pointed at himself. "Daniel Jackson." Talking was just too much effort at the moment.

“Yes, friend.”  The newcomer clapped his small hands together in a show of impatience, eyeing Daniel’s obvious need for assistance.  “Now, we fix you. Sh’khan make nasty wounds.” He regarded Claire, grunting disapprovingly and waving a hand in her direction, as if to dismiss her from their presence.  “Sky Clan too slow,” he muttered.

“Hah!” crowed Jack. He crossed his arms over his chest, hovering over Daniel in a distinctly Peter Pan pose. “We killed the ghidan.”

“Anyone can kill ghidan, even child! Earthbound be better hunters.” The bigger alien swept the fairies with a smug grin and waggled elegantly arched silver eyebrows at them.

“You sit up,” Grass commanded. “Must get wounds cleaned and give remedies before fever comes.” 

“I have my own medicines in my camp,” Daniel assured him, grunting with pain as he moved slowly into a more upright position. “A white pouch with a red symbol on it. The drugs inside it will help me fight off sickness.” 

The Grass Clan alien shrugged. “From your world, yes. Maybe not from this one. We see. I return soon.” He fixed Claire with a firm gaze and shook a warning finger at her. “You watch new friend. Keep safe.”

“Perhaps you should mind the sky as well as you do the ground,” Claire shot back, tilting her chin up and raising her lavender eyebrows. “Your hunt will be more successful if you are not dead.”

“Bah!” The hunter pivoted on his heel and ambled off toward Daniel’s camp to fetch the medical kit packed into the mule, at Daniel's request. 

Daniel had to smile at their contention over his care and keeping. There didn’t seem to be any real animosity between the races, just a sense of one-upmanship that kept them jockeying for any scrap of superiority – much as he and his teammate Jack had always done. There was cooperation when it counted, concern for one another’s welfare, exhibited by the Sky Clan’s immediate reaction when one of the Grass Clan had been threatened, but once the danger was past, the teasing began.

He thought he might grow very fond of these people, and hoped they were becoming friends.

End Chapter 7

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