STARGATE: EXPLORER

by Lady Grey
Alpha/Beta by Jude

August 23

Late Afternoon

Compounded by his recent imprisonment, the blood loss from the lizard-bird attack was making Daniel light-headed and weak, sending his body into shock. He fought it, struggling against the pain of his wounds, concentrating on breathing and the concerned looks on the faces of the three fairies hovering around him. He'd been hurt worse in the field, but there had always been the promise of returning to the SGC’s infirmary for recovery.  Now that option wasn't available; he'd have to survive with these people's help, or not at all.

Daniel's camp was less than a hundred feet away, but it felt like hours went by as he waited for the Grass Clan alien to come back with his medical kit and two canteens. As soon as Daniel saw the tuft of silver hair moving back toward him above the tall grass, he forced himself into a sitting position. It was an exercise in agony; every part of him hurt with the movement.

“May I call you Hunter?” he asked, unbuttoning his BDU jacket. He grimaced as he pulled the gear vest and jacket off together.  “Or do Grass Clan feel differently about sharing their names?”

“Hunter,” the alien repeated approvingly from beside him, pawing through Daniel’s med kit. “Yes, you call me Hunter. Is strong name.  Who your clan? You look like Forest.” 

The opened medical kit and one of the canteens were close enough that Daniel could reach them now. Mumbling his thanks, he picked up some ibuprofen and broad-spectrum antibiotics, tore open each packet and swallowed the tablets with a mouthful of water from the second canteen. After another long swallow, he capped the container and set it down.

Daniel didn’t understand Hunter's clan reference but tried to answer the question anyway. “Um, my given name is Daniel,” he explained, reaching for the hem of his black T-shirt. He sucked in a preparatory breath and pulled the garment off over his head, grunting as some of the cloth stuck to the drying blood surrounding his wounds. He panted a moment, gripping the ruined shirt in his right hand until he could speak again. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, already dry once more from exertion and blood loss, which was carrying him rapidly toward dehydration.  “My family name is Jackson, so I guess that would be my clan. The Jacksons were originally from England, but I am second-generation American on my maternal side. Her family was Dutch, called the Ballards.”

“Two clans? Bah! You Forest.” The old alien opened the spare canteen and gave the treated water a sniff. He shuffled closer and began to slowly pour the liquid over the punctures in Daniel's shoulder, daubing the blood away with a spare pair of clean white underwear retrieved from the mule.

“Not from here,” Daniel reminded his newest friend through clenched teeth, shivering as the cool water poured over his clammy skin. He dug a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide out of the med kit and handed it over to the alien, showing him briefly how to use it and explaining what it did.

Hunter grunted, dismissing Daniel's retort, concentrating on cleaning his injuries. He was thorough, using up all of the peroxide and half the water in the extra canteen. Daniel now had the other container and was drinking from it, taking in as much as he could hold.

“Grass Clan are notoriously stubborn,” observed Claire with a shrug, hovering in Daniel’s line of sight. “You will not be able to convince him you are not Forest Clan. You are the right size, though your eyes are too small and your nose is… uh, big.”

Looking up at Claire, Daniel asked in amazement, “So Forest Clan is an even larger race of your people? My size?”

“Yes,” answered Hunter, working behind Daniel now, cleaning the punctures over his shoulder blade. “Mountain even bigger. You see soon, if you live.”

“If I live?”  Daniel returned lightly.  He eyed his swollen left foot, which was turning purple and black with bruising from the fall.  “These aren’t exactly life-threatening wounds, you know.”

“You not from here,” the Grass Clan alien repeated back to him. “Could be many strange sicknesses you not know. Injury makes entrance for all manner of ugly.”

 “True.” Daniel sat quietly while Hunter finished cleaning and dressing his wounds, then came around to examine his ankle.

“Not broken,” the alien declared after a thorough prodding and lots of squeezing, through which Daniel kept his jaws clamped to avoid screaming. “Only sprained.” Hunter pulled a small roll of fabric from his pouch and wrapped up Daniel's ankle with obvious healer's skill.

The older alien made eye contact and finally sat down on the ground beside Daniel’s booted right foot. “You hungry?”

All Daniel wanted was more water and just to lie still until the ibuprofen kicked in, and he could rest. “Not really. I—”

“You hungry,” Hunter decided with a nod. “I cook. Grass Clan good cooks.”

“If you can call that cooking,” sniped Jack, who flew between them, dancing on the air and rolling his eyes. “Truly, they use so many spices and seasonings, you cannot taste the original essence of the dish. Some ingredients are so hot—”

“Sky Clan like bland,” Hunter shot back with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You roast everything, or eat raw. Grass Clan like flavor. Mmmmmm, good!” He rubbed his belly with one hand and licked small, rosy lips. “I cook for you. You like.”

Not far from where Daniel lay on the flattened grass, Hunter built a cooking fire, the pit carefully lined with stones and cleared of debris that might accidentally spread the flames. From a pack hidden beneath his cape, he pulled a small, shallow pot, filled it with water, and set it on the blaze to heat. He selected several tiny leather bags from his pouch and sorted through them carefully. Each was marked with a symbol but, while some of the writing looked vaguely familiar, Daniel couldn’t place where he might have previously seen the script. His mind was getting clouded from his recent exertions and shock, and he thought he might be running a slight temperature.

The older alien opened one tiny bag and sniffed it, made a ghastly face and pulled it quickly away from his nose.  “I make you tea,” he said with a chuckle, a mischievous twinkle in his purple eyes. “You drink. Help you with fever.”

“Um, no thanks,” Daniel returned politely, not sure he wanted any of the stinky brew. “I will use my medicines. But I appreciate everything you have done for me.” He struggled to sit up, in need of more water and wanting to check his stores of medical supplies. The movement made his wounds flare with fresh pain.

“Is good for pain, too,” Hunter told him sagely, dropping a pinch of the powder into the pot of water to steep. "You drink tea. Will help you feel better."

Daniel didn’t argue further. He had morphine in his pack, but that was for wounds far more severe than he had sustained and he needed to save it, just in case. A dose of acetaminophen on top of the ibuprofen he'd had a few hours ago might help with the fever and creeping ache in his bones. There were differences between his physiology and that of these aliens that might entail far more than eye size and the shapes of their noses, making him wary of their medications, which might do him more harm than good, but he didn't have the strength to refuse.

Hunter waved the cup under Daniel's nose, and a smell that was an unpleasant cross between sweaty socks and vomit made him instinctively turn his face away, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat. He held up a hand. “No, thanks! Gah.” He almost gagged.

"Drink fast," Hunter urged. "Taste not as bad as smell." He was insistent, continuing to push the cup toward his guest.

Daniel finally accepted it, held his breath, and downed the disgusting liquid in three long swallows. "Ugh! That's the single most horrible smell I've ever encountered," he blurted in English.

Apparently, the comment needed no translation. His companions all laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Now, we feed you," Hunter announced, and went to fetch the warthog haunch Daniel had left at his camp.

Claire hovered watchfully over Daniel, while Jack and Lapis buzzed off to begin collecting herbs and berries, delivering them to the new campsite before darting off to look for more. Hunter built a spit for roasting the meat and set it to cook, then went to rummage through the mule's storage lockers for additional cooking utensils. He seemed delighted at the finds, and quickly set about combining the various ingredients Sky Clan provided, arguing with them good-naturedly over the composition of the dishes.

Whenever he temporarily roused himself from his exhausted dozing, Daniel couldn’t help grinning as he watched the two races interact. “There seems to be plenty of that warthog-thing,” he suggested, rolling carefully onto his right side with a grunt. “Maybe you can just cook a little of it plain for Sky Clan, and I'll try it both ways.”

“Many mouths to feed now,” said Hunter with a nod to his left. “I cook ghidan and both sh’khan. All will share feast.”

Following Hunter’s gaze, Daniel noticed more of the Grass Clan appearing at the edges of the flattened meadow enclosure, likely lured there by the savory cooking smells that wafted up into the air. All of them were about the same size as Hunter, but with a wide variety of attire. Some wore tunics and pants, others long robes, and a few were clothed in elegantly detailed gowns.  They looked like children playing dress-up, he thought, their genderless faces wide-eyed and innocent.

Three of them came to haul off the two sh’khan carcasses, and several others brought rolled-up carpets, poles, coils of rope, folded tarps, cooking pots, and more of Daniel’s supplies from the camp. In short order, a large awning had been put up over him, the grass flattened beneath it and covered with the carpets. They built a crude but sturdy bed for him of lashed-together saplings, rope, and a tough, soft fabric, and several of them helped him carefully onto it.

The move was agonizing, but once he'd settled, the discomfort faded quickly to a deep throbbing. Daniel turned his attention to the activity around him, studying his hosts and their behavior for a little distraction. He nodded off for a few minutes here and there, waking to drink more water, and then returned to his napping and observing the little People as they worked.

Setting up the camp was a noisy affair, with the Grass Clan shouting and squabbling with each other or arguing with the Sky Clan, who had taken up supervisory positions, directing the others and alternately being consulted or ignored.

Claire hovered possessively over Daniel, scrutinizing everyone who came to offer him anything, sampling everything and approving it before allowing the snacks or drinks to be accepted. She argued with Hunter over seasoning at the nearby cook-fire, darting back and forth to ask Daniel’s opinion and serve as mediator in determining what would or would not go into the meal.

A blessed sense of contentment filled Daniel as he lay on his cot, watching the industrious little people taking care of him. The camp was a cheerful place with an air of merriment, and Daniel felt his spirits lifting despite his pain. He continued to doze on and off until Hunter announced that his meal had been prepared, and helped him into a sitting position beneath the canvas awning. 

As the sun slid behind the distant mountain peaks, Daniel tasted more dishes than he could count by the light of scattered torches and campfires, set to chase away the coming darkness. The ghidan tasted similar to pork, flavored with something like mint and pepper, both hot and cool at the same time. The sh’khan had a strong citrus tang, yet it was quite oily and spiced with something so hot he could barely get it down. The Grass people all laughed at his reaction, but the Sky Clan fairies simply gazed at him with silent but smug self-assurance, reminding him that they had warned him and hadn’t been wrong. 

A celebration started once the food was cleared away, complete with music and dancing, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. Daniel watched with heavy eyelids, smiling contentedly from his horizontal position on the bed, while Hunter sat nearby at a cook-fire, chewing on a plant stem and listening to what Daniel guessed to be a storyteller, though Daniel couldn’t understand a word of the monologue. His gaze wandered as he listened to the hypnotic voice of the narrator, searching the perimeter of the camp out of long years of habit, concerned about the dangerous wildlife he'd encountered, and wanting to make sure his new friends would be protected.

When he saw that Grass Clan had already posted sentinels, keeping watch on the surrounding sea of grass as well as what he could see of the star-lit sky, he decided they didn't need him to look out for their safety. Seeing the sentries brought Daniel reassurance, and he longed to put down a few notes in his journal.

He tried to sit, but was too weak from exhaustion, injuries, and the ordeal of his recent imprisonment. After a little more observation of his lively new friends, Daniel's eyes began to burn from fatigue, and he decided he'd done enough for the day. The temperature was dropping and it was getting a little chilly, so he asked for a blanket from his stores in the mule. Hunter fetched it and helped him cover up, giving him a final pat once he was comfortable.

Daniel took a second dose of his supply of antibiotics and swallowed them with another long gulp of water, then set his med kit on the ground and lay back, desperately in need of rest. Claire descended from her hovering post above him where she'd been keeping watch, and settled on the framework of his cot for the night. Daniel wished his hosts a good night, rolled onto his uninjured right side, and closed his eyes, sinking almost instantly into an exhausted sleep.

End Chapter 8
 

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