Fic: Lost Tribe 9/13
Lost Tribe part 9
Previous parts here
General O’Neill wasn’t what Willow had been expecting. She remembered the poopy-head colonel from the Initiative with his you-can’t-break-into-my-base-with-a-magic-gourd attitude. General Call-Me-Jack was totally different; less fascist stooge, more over-protective Nick at Nite dad. “I don’t care how many apocalypses you’ve stopped. You can’t drive, you can’t go through the stargate.”
A couple of broken crow bars and some tales of apocalypses past had convinced General Jack that, despite appearances, the girls really could hold their own, but he still had issues with little Sayaka. She was the youngest and apparently fifteen was too young to fight the forces of darkness. Sayaka, of course, had other ideas. “Buffy,” she whined, “tell him I can go.”
“Hey,” General Jack said indignantly, “What are you asking her for? Does it say general on her uniform?”
“No, but it doesn’t say it on yours either,” Rona pointed out.
The man seemed a little thrown as he glanced down at the front of his plain blue fatigue-things and discovered she was right. “Yeah, well,” he recovered, “it’s my stargate and what I say goes.” Willow almost giggled at that. Who knew battle-hardened general-types could sound like four-year-old boys?
“I’d hate to be the voice of reason here,” Xander jumped in, “but do we really have time for this?”
“Yeah,” Faith agreed. “Clock’s tickin’. We’ve got vamps to slay, people to rescue and we’re gonna need everyone we’ve got.”
“They’ve got a point, Jack,” added Dr. Jackson. He sort of reminded her of a young non-British Giles. He was the kind of guy Willow probably would have been into except for the whole being gay thing.
“Alright,” the general said finally, “you can go.” He’d made the sensible decision, but didn’t look happy about it. Sayaka, on the other hand, was tickled pink. She lunged across the table to hug him excitedly and squeal in his ear. Poor man, his hearing would never be the same.
“Great,” said Buffy, “now that’s done, can we get with the plan making? So, are we thinking diagrams and stuff or are the seventeen of us just doing a John Wayne charge?”
“Technically, there wont be seventeen of you,” the general told her.
“Oh, you can so not be serious,” Buffy said. “I thought we were done with this whole-”
“As I was saying,” General Jack interrupted her, “there wont just be seventeen of you. On the phone, Harris said something about flame throwers, and while we don’t have any, we do have something cooler.”
“Yeah, what?” asked Xander excitedly. Boys sure did like things that spat fire or went boom.
The general didn’t answer but instead pointed to the big black guy who’d barely said two words since they’d gotten here. “I believe O’Neill is referring to a staff weapon,” he intoned.
“Staff weapon,” Buffy repeated skeptically. It didn’t really sound all that cool or flame-y.
“Indeed,” he responded with a slow and oddly regal nod of his head.
There was something off about him. Not just the funky gold forehead tattoo or the too formal way he talked, there was something weird with his aura. “Oh!” Willow exclaimed as her hands fluttered excitedly. “You’re an alien. That’s why your aura’s all funky and not connected to the earth. How long have you been here?” Willow frowned. “Shouldn’t you be less human-shaped?”
“I am a Jaffa,” alien-guy told her.
“You’re pretty big for a snack food, mate,” said Koria.
Alien-guy may have been able to give Oz a run for his money when it came to cucumber coolness and stoic non-expression, but Willow thought she saw some indignation peeking through. “Jaffa are not snack food.”
“Actually,” said Dr. Jackson, “they are, and they’re really good too.” Alien-guy turned slowly to stare at the doctor and raised his eye-brow menacingly. “But Jaffa like Teal’c are actually the descendants of humans taken from earth to be used as incubators of larval goa’uld,” Dr. Jackson continued hurriedly. “They look human but aren’t, and have lots of proud traditions that have nothing to do with little chocolate-covered orange cakes.”
“Yeah,” Buffy dead-panned. “So, staff weapons. What’s the what?”
“They’re the traditional Jaffa weapons,” General Jack explained. “They’re sort of this big” -he held out his arms- “they shoot fire, plus you can hit people with them. We have twelve here on base. Teal’c and our best shots are going to back you up.”
“Sweet!” exclaimed Xander. “That sounds way cooler than the crossbow I was planning on taking.”
“You’re not going,” the general informed him.
“What?!” Xander burst. “Seasoned vampire hunter here. Okay, yes, one eye, but I have a driver’s license. I just have to renew it every year.”
The general just raised an eyebrow. “My gate, my rules,” he reminded Xander like he hadn’t just completely caved when it came to Sayaka.
Xander still looked mulish and Willow figured she should step in before things got nasty. Xander could hold his own one-on-one against fledglings, but the odds here would be way different and against some ancient vamps. “Xander,” she said soothingly, “he just doesn’t want you to get hurt, or, you know, do the friendly fire thing.”
Her friend glared at her for a minute before taking a nice soothing breath. Willow was glad she wouldn’t have resort to puppy-eyes and resolve-face after all. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay, and you can keep me company.”
“What? No. Two eyes” - she gestured to her face- “Plus, magic.”
“Magic that’s tied to the earth,” he said in one of those annoyingly reasonable tones he’d picked up from Giles. It was a cheap trick; sounding all sensible when he was really just putting a metaphorical frog in her bed.
“He’s got a point, Will,” agreed Buffy. “If your magic doesn’t work on another planet you could be in trouble.”
Buffy too? Willow turned to her lover. Kennedy would set them straight. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said instead. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Willow began to pout. She knew it was childish, but it wasn’t fair. She was a powerful witch, not some hapless sidekick. “Besides, Will,” Buffy tried to comfort her, “we need you here guarding the portal in case we screw up.”
“Oh, alright,” grumbled Willow. “I’ll stay here and be all responsible.”
“Hey,” protested Xander. “How come Willow gets a save the world consolation prize and all I get is a lousy ‘we’re worried about the good lamps?’”
“Because she’s cuter and obviously more needy,” General Jack answered dryly. “Now, on to business.”
They spent the next hour watching footage of the planet she wouldn’t be going to and planning an assault she wouldn’t be involved in. It just wasn’t fair.
8 << (9) >> 10
Previous parts here
General O’Neill wasn’t what Willow had been expecting. She remembered the poopy-head colonel from the Initiative with his you-can’t-break-into-my-base-with-a-magic-gourd attitude. General Call-Me-Jack was totally different; less fascist stooge, more over-protective Nick at Nite dad. “I don’t care how many apocalypses you’ve stopped. You can’t drive, you can’t go through the stargate.”
A couple of broken crow bars and some tales of apocalypses past had convinced General Jack that, despite appearances, the girls really could hold their own, but he still had issues with little Sayaka. She was the youngest and apparently fifteen was too young to fight the forces of darkness. Sayaka, of course, had other ideas. “Buffy,” she whined, “tell him I can go.”
“Hey,” General Jack said indignantly, “What are you asking her for? Does it say general on her uniform?”
“No, but it doesn’t say it on yours either,” Rona pointed out.
The man seemed a little thrown as he glanced down at the front of his plain blue fatigue-things and discovered she was right. “Yeah, well,” he recovered, “it’s my stargate and what I say goes.” Willow almost giggled at that. Who knew battle-hardened general-types could sound like four-year-old boys?
“I’d hate to be the voice of reason here,” Xander jumped in, “but do we really have time for this?”
“Yeah,” Faith agreed. “Clock’s tickin’. We’ve got vamps to slay, people to rescue and we’re gonna need everyone we’ve got.”
“They’ve got a point, Jack,” added Dr. Jackson. He sort of reminded her of a young non-British Giles. He was the kind of guy Willow probably would have been into except for the whole being gay thing.
“Alright,” the general said finally, “you can go.” He’d made the sensible decision, but didn’t look happy about it. Sayaka, on the other hand, was tickled pink. She lunged across the table to hug him excitedly and squeal in his ear. Poor man, his hearing would never be the same.
“Great,” said Buffy, “now that’s done, can we get with the plan making? So, are we thinking diagrams and stuff or are the seventeen of us just doing a John Wayne charge?”
“Technically, there wont be seventeen of you,” the general told her.
“Oh, you can so not be serious,” Buffy said. “I thought we were done with this whole-”
“As I was saying,” General Jack interrupted her, “there wont just be seventeen of you. On the phone, Harris said something about flame throwers, and while we don’t have any, we do have something cooler.”
“Yeah, what?” asked Xander excitedly. Boys sure did like things that spat fire or went boom.
The general didn’t answer but instead pointed to the big black guy who’d barely said two words since they’d gotten here. “I believe O’Neill is referring to a staff weapon,” he intoned.
“Staff weapon,” Buffy repeated skeptically. It didn’t really sound all that cool or flame-y.
“Indeed,” he responded with a slow and oddly regal nod of his head.
There was something off about him. Not just the funky gold forehead tattoo or the too formal way he talked, there was something weird with his aura. “Oh!” Willow exclaimed as her hands fluttered excitedly. “You’re an alien. That’s why your aura’s all funky and not connected to the earth. How long have you been here?” Willow frowned. “Shouldn’t you be less human-shaped?”
“I am a Jaffa,” alien-guy told her.
“You’re pretty big for a snack food, mate,” said Koria.
Alien-guy may have been able to give Oz a run for his money when it came to cucumber coolness and stoic non-expression, but Willow thought she saw some indignation peeking through. “Jaffa are not snack food.”
“Actually,” said Dr. Jackson, “they are, and they’re really good too.” Alien-guy turned slowly to stare at the doctor and raised his eye-brow menacingly. “But Jaffa like Teal’c are actually the descendants of humans taken from earth to be used as incubators of larval goa’uld,” Dr. Jackson continued hurriedly. “They look human but aren’t, and have lots of proud traditions that have nothing to do with little chocolate-covered orange cakes.”
“Yeah,” Buffy dead-panned. “So, staff weapons. What’s the what?”
“They’re the traditional Jaffa weapons,” General Jack explained. “They’re sort of this big” -he held out his arms- “they shoot fire, plus you can hit people with them. We have twelve here on base. Teal’c and our best shots are going to back you up.”
“Sweet!” exclaimed Xander. “That sounds way cooler than the crossbow I was planning on taking.”
“You’re not going,” the general informed him.
“What?!” Xander burst. “Seasoned vampire hunter here. Okay, yes, one eye, but I have a driver’s license. I just have to renew it every year.”
The general just raised an eyebrow. “My gate, my rules,” he reminded Xander like he hadn’t just completely caved when it came to Sayaka.
Xander still looked mulish and Willow figured she should step in before things got nasty. Xander could hold his own one-on-one against fledglings, but the odds here would be way different and against some ancient vamps. “Xander,” she said soothingly, “he just doesn’t want you to get hurt, or, you know, do the friendly fire thing.”
Her friend glared at her for a minute before taking a nice soothing breath. Willow was glad she wouldn’t have resort to puppy-eyes and resolve-face after all. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll stay, and you can keep me company.”
“What? No. Two eyes” - she gestured to her face- “Plus, magic.”
“Magic that’s tied to the earth,” he said in one of those annoyingly reasonable tones he’d picked up from Giles. It was a cheap trick; sounding all sensible when he was really just putting a metaphorical frog in her bed.
“He’s got a point, Will,” agreed Buffy. “If your magic doesn’t work on another planet you could be in trouble.”
Buffy too? Willow turned to her lover. Kennedy would set them straight. “I’m sorry, baby,” she said instead. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Willow began to pout. She knew it was childish, but it wasn’t fair. She was a powerful witch, not some hapless sidekick. “Besides, Will,” Buffy tried to comfort her, “we need you here guarding the portal in case we screw up.”
“Oh, alright,” grumbled Willow. “I’ll stay here and be all responsible.”
“Hey,” protested Xander. “How come Willow gets a save the world consolation prize and all I get is a lousy ‘we’re worried about the good lamps?’”
“Because she’s cuter and obviously more needy,” General Jack answered dryly. “Now, on to business.”
They spent the next hour watching footage of the planet she wouldn’t be going to and planning an assault she wouldn’t be involved in. It just wasn’t fair.
8 << (9) >> 10