Stargate SG1 - Roswell (15 page)

“Right!” Vala rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Who's coming with me?”

“Sir?” Sam turned to Jack. “I'll need you to power up the systems as we check each one.” To Daniel, she added, “We could also do with some clamps, nickel wire and as many nickel-cadmium batteries as you can find.”

“Ni-cads?” Daniel almost laughed. While he had a lot of faith in Sam, he really couldn't see her powering up the jumper, the transport or the time machine with flashlight batteries. “Sam, this is 1908.”

“There's a tool shed in the stables behind the geochemistry building,” Howard said. “They'll probably have clamps and nickel wire there. Such batteries, however, are stored in the laboratory.”

“You have nickel-cadmium batteries?” That just didn't seem right.

“Why, yes,” Howard replied, sounding as if it had fallen to him to alone to protect Earth's galactic reputation as a technological powerhouse. “They're not commonly used, of course, but the geochem lab has a supply of them. This
is
the twentieth century, you know.”

“Fine.” Jack stood, biting back a smile at Howard's indignant reply. “Carter, make a list.”

“Area's clear, sir,” Mitchell announced from the bottom of the ramp. “List?”

Behind him stood Teal'c, holding onto what was presumably Howard's bicycle.

“You, Vala and Daniel are off to do some grocery shopping,” Jack informed him.

“Of the 'five finger discount' variety,” Vala added, wiggling her fingers with a grin.

Loki turned to face Mitchell. “I will require food.”

Nobody bothered to answer him. Vala fixed her attention on Daniel and Mitchell, shaking her head as she studied the sorry state of their BDUs. “If we are going to venture out into the big wide world, boys, we'll need to do something about you two.”

“Like what,” Daniel asked, instantly suspicious.

“Daniel, darling, while / might find the blood and cuts on your naked, yet manly buttocks, incredibly sexy, it might be a bit off-putting to the locals.” Vala was pointedly staring at his hips,
which, he had to admit, didn't have a whole lot of material left covering them thanks to the dartballs. Mitchell wasn't in
much better shape, either.

Eyeing the raw flesh where a couple of chunks had been taken
out of Mitchell's nose and cheek, Daniel added, “Maybe a
Band-Aid, too.”

“Ah, now I can take care of that.” Vala flashed another grin and held up the hand device. “You see? I really do have my uses.”

“What about local clothes?” Mitchell asked.

“You might be able
to...steal...”
Howard suggested, almost choking on the word, “something suitable on the way.”

“That's settled, then,” Vala said. “I fix you up. Howard fixes us up. We fix the ship up, and we all go home. Piece of bread.”

“Piece of cake,” Daniel corrected, with the certain feeling that nothing was ever that simple, particularly not when both time travel and Vala were involved. “The saying is piece of cake.”

CHAPTER TEN

The clop of hooves on the cobblestones was slow and the axles of the cart creaked with the weight of something bulky that Vala couldn't see in the dark. Mitchell signaled for them to stay in the shadows, but the creature must have sensed their presence, or, more likely, smelled them. The animal—a beast of burden called a horse that Vala had only ever seen before on television—snickered and tossed its head, pulling at the harness used to control its movements. At the horse's unexpected skittishness, the man holding the straps let out a string of epithets, a few of which were new to Vala, that she filed away for future reference.

Howard had stopped a few moments earlier outside one of the many cramped two-storey buildings lining the street. When asked why, the youth had explained this was his current residence. He wanted to take a few moments to leave his bicycle inside, and perhaps find something to disguise their “alien attire” for when they were forced to leave the shadows to cross the occasional road. Realizing Howard's concern for his bicycle was because it was an item of some worth, Vala had eyed it speculatively, but before she could inquire about its value...on the black market, say, as an antique item from Earth...he'd disappeared inside the residence.

Learning what various societies considered valuable—not to mention who did the ruling and who did the serving on the worlds she visited—was a survival instinct for Vala. On the way through the woods, she'd picked up a few more interesting scraps from Howard's whispered conversation with Daniel. Apparently—from what Vala could glean—the recent death of Howard's grandfather had forced him and his mother to abandon their luxurious home a short distance away, and move into this considerably more humble abode closer to the docks. Young Howard was feeling the reduction in his circumstances keenly. So keenly, in fact, that when added to his struggle with some additional —and as yet to be articulated—inner turmoil, it was enough to bring him down to the river this night, intent on ending it all.

On a universal scale of things, downgrading one's accommodation seemed a trifling setback. Certainly too insignificant to be considering suicide over it. Clearly, Howard was suffering from an interesting collection of much more significant—if somewhat immature—neuroses.

Rather like Rodney McKay, actually.

By the time the horse-drawn cart passed, Howard had returned, clutching a bundle of clothes.

“This was all I could find,” he whispered apologetically, handing Vala a long coat and a gray bonnet. She took the items and examined them curiously as he held out the other garments to Daniel and Mitchell. One was a heavy, masculine-looking coat. The other was a much daintier, with velveteen lapels and matching floral bonnet. “They belong to my mother and my aunt, so we'll have to make sure they're returned in good order, or I'll never be able to explain—”

“Thanks.” Before Howard could finish his explanation, Mitchell had snatched the heavier coat from his outstretched arm and pulled it over his BDUs, leaving Daniel with the ladies' coat and the bonnet.

Vala smiled at him, and she tied on her own bonnet. “Look, Daniel! How nice. You and I have matching ribbons!”

Daniel didn't appear terribly impressed by the notion. “That's because these are women's clothes. And you've got that
bonnet on backwards, by the way.”

Vala frowned and repositioned the hat, not convinced that there was a noticeable difference. Daniel turned to Mitchell and treated him to a look that spoke volumes.

“You're shorter than me,” Mitchell told Daniel with a grin that seemed out of all proportion to the occasion.

“By an
inch.”

“What can I say, Jackson. Size matters.”

Daniel stretched the coat over his shoulders with a scowl. “I'll remember this.”

“So will I.” Still grinning like he'd won something, Mitchell turned to Vala and Howard. “Let's get a move on, people. We've only got a few more hours of darkness left.”

Daniel looked particularly fetching in his floral bonnet, Vala thought, but her attempts to assure him of the fact were met with a choked laugh from Mitchell and a decidedly frosty glare from Daniel.

Disguised in their new coats, they hurried along the sidewalk, grateful for the darkened streetlamps. Powered by electricity—they'd at least discovered how to generate it by burning coal in this time—the lamps were switched off at midnight, according to Howard. The only artificial light remaining filtered through the windows of the occasional home where someone was still up at this late hour, providing a rare square of illumination along the sidewalk.

Like the rather boxy vehicles Cam referred to as Cadillac Osceolas and Model Ds, everything about the place reeked of primitivism. Earth 1908 was a world still taking baby steps into the greater universe. And yet, Vala reminded herself, while the people of this era had only recently mastered electricity and flight, within a century they would be traversing galaxies, and, armed with little more than ignorance and blind optimism, they would destroy a parasitic race that had enslaved humans for ten millennia.

How'd they managed that, Vala still found difficult to comprehend, particularly after her one—and thankfully, only — excursion to Washington DC.

On the other hand, it was this inexplicably successful combination of naivety and resourcefulness in the Tau'ri that had attracted her to Daniel in the first place.

Of course, one could argue that like the Goa'uld, humans had simply exploited Ancient technology in order to further their own agenda. But the Goa'uld had never
invented
any technology, merely stole and used it. They shunned innovation—something at which humans excelled. This excursion through the streets of Rhode Island was a case in point. No Goa'uld would ever have considered using a gem-bearing rock as a temporary replacement in the power relay systems of one of its ships.

Not that Vala's idea—the one they never gave her a chance to articulate—wouldn't have been better, but the point was, in this situation, the Goa'uld would have come barging in, conquered the planet and enslaved the population. Then they'd have made free thinking and innovation punishable by death and ordered a new ship constructed—preferably a fleet—in the identical manner to which all such ships had been built since as far back as Qetesh's memories reached.

“Wait up,” Mitchell whispered, raising his fist in the air.

Grateful for the chance to rest, Vala stifled a yawn as a second cart, drawn by a team of somewhat livelier horses, approached along a side street. Not that she would ever admit it, but healing O'Neill and Loki's quite serious injuries and then the others' more superficial wounds had taken more out of her than usual. Loss of blood certainly had contributed to her passing out, prefaced by that short, sharp trip down memory lane to a place she had absolutely no desire to revisit. Vala's memories—her real memories—had long since been submerged by those of countless other lifetimes. It didn't matter that she hadn't actually experienced every one of those events personally.

They felt real, no matter how she had come by them.

When the Tokra had nursed her back to health to assuage his guilt after removing Qetesh, he'd counseled her to claim only the memories she considered truly her own, and retain any others as a source of information. Sound advice, perhaps, but the well-intentioned Tokra had not considered Athena's insistence of dredging up the past. Nor had he been able to explain how to extricate aspects of her personality now welded to that of Qetesh.

One thing Vala
did
remember with painful clarity was being born into a society where chastity was a virtue prized above all others. Her possession by Qetesh had been a particularly exquisite form of torture, and even now, Vala wasn't sure that evil Goa'uld bitch hadn't chosen her for precisely that reason. Qetesh had not set herself up as the goddess of fertility or love or even happiness, leaving that to her sisters, Amaunet and Hathor. Qetesh was—unashamedly—the Goddess of Sex and, unlike most Goa'uld, had chosen not to entirely suppress her host's consciousness.

Worse, than that, she had delighted in traumatizing Vala with her perverse desires.

Time and the burning determination to retain her sanity had desensitized Vala to Qetesh's bizarre tastes, but the horror and repugnance of those first encounters lingered, catching her off-guard at times.

Still, Vala was, above all, a survivor. She had found a way to deal with Qetesh's appetites, just as she learned how easily Qetesh used those appetites to acquire whatever she desired. The Tokra may have untangled their minds, but disentangling those impulses had proven difficult. Some things simply cannot be unlearned.