Punctual to the point of bordering on obsessive-compulsive, Ami arrived at the "town hall," breathing heavy, but not out of breath. Her new side occupation of teaching Tai Chi and yoga to the colonists as a means of fitness, recreation and relaxation was all well and good, but she was no longer going to allow anyone other than herself, to plan and schedule the classes. Maggie was wonderful, in her new-agey, one-ness with the earth sort of way, but clearly her clouded view of the world prevented her from seeing the physical differences between teenagers and fifty-somethings, novices and the experienced.
It was going to be hours of work, hours that could have been spent in the greenhouses, gardens and forests learning botany and xenobotany, rescheduling and undoing Maggie's cock-up.
Outside the "town hall," Ami snapped on a head band, and pulled the short workout jacket over her sports bra. She patted down her workout clothes, looked up at the various dirt covered or sweat soaked people going inside and decided she was presentable enough.
Ami heard the whispers and the rumors, and this was one meeting that she didn't want to miss. If the stargate was functional, it might mean exploration and she could (finally) dust off her archaeological skills.
She slipped inside and carefully pushed her way forward, it was amazing what a friendly, bright smile could accomplish, and managed to hear the tail end of General O'Neill's - retired, though no one seemed to address him without the title unless they knew him personally - admonishment and Boone's follow up.
The SGC people were all familiar faces and names, even if she hadn't met them all personally.
Boone, she typically gave a bit of a wide-berth to; it was disconcerting to feel two psychic signatures coming from one body. Alarming at first, enough so that she'd revealed her empathic abilities to a select few in order to ease the alarm. She'd been assured, by Daniel Jackson, that they knew of Boone's "dichotomy" and that it was nothing to worry about.
It was going to be hours of work, hours that could have been spent in the greenhouses, gardens and forests learning botany and xenobotany, rescheduling and undoing Maggie's cock-up.
Outside the "town hall," Ami snapped on a head band, and pulled the short workout jacket over her sports bra. She patted down her workout clothes, looked up at the various dirt covered or sweat soaked people going inside and decided she was presentable enough.
Ami heard the whispers and the rumors, and this was one meeting that she didn't want to miss. If the stargate was functional, it might mean exploration and she could (finally) dust off her archaeological skills.
She slipped inside and carefully pushed her way forward, it was amazing what a friendly, bright smile could accomplish, and managed to hear the tail end of General O'Neill's - retired, though no one seemed to address him without the title unless they knew him personally - admonishment and Boone's follow up.
The SGC people were all familiar faces and names, even if she hadn't met them all personally.
Boone, she typically gave a bit of a wide-berth to; it was disconcerting to feel two psychic signatures coming from one body. Alarming at first, enough so that she'd revealed her empathic abilities to a select few in order to ease the alarm. She'd been assured, by Daniel Jackson, that they knew of Boone's "dichotomy" and that it was nothing to worry about.
She sat to the side and simply listened.
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