SGA ficlet: Keller
This snippet actually comes from me completely misreading siegeofangels' request. Set in the universe of Marozi. I suggest you read it first (it's only 1000 words, so). The language they speak comes from here.
ETA: This story predates the season four character Jennifer Keller. The name's a coincidence. You should read the earlier story to understand who this Keller is.
Keller
Her mother and father said, “The city of the Ancestors,” like it was more important than food. Keller knew who the Ancestors were. It was their job to take care of poor, dead Sateda, but there were many poor, dead Satedas in the galaxy, and so she and her father and her mother had to remind them every now and then to please take care of this poor dead Sateda. On those days, she was allowed out of the cover of the trees, to light the little memory pyre on the stone butte rising above the valley. Sometimes they went off world to trade for sweet cakes to offer up with the incense smoke, and there were always some left over to eat with the sweet sap from the tall hatee tree.
Keller understood the Ancestors were in some places more than others, except Mother would say they were everywhere, and Keller didn’t understand why a city was better than all the other places. She couldn’t get a picture of her parent’s awe into her head; she thought it had a lot to do with this city business, though Sateda had had many cities and maybe Mother and Father didn’t think they were anything special.
They rode to the gate in a large ship like a flying cave. You went inside and you couldn’t see out again, and even when she looked out the clear window in front she still felt as immovable as rock. The ship didn’t surprise her parents at all, so she sat quietly between them and showed the woman who checked in on them a careful, blank expression. The strangers spoke the trade language, which Keller did not know well. They came from the city of the Ancestors, but they must not be Ancestors, because Keller spoke their language better than they did.
She asked her father in Acian, “Should I take out my pistol?”
He reached over and smoothed her small hand between his large, brown palms. “If they’re bad guys, I’ll shoot them in the head.”
There was a sputtering sound from the ship’s front room, where the window was. She saw the biggest of the strangers lean over and mutter furiously with the skinny one. The big stranger was the one who had seemed to understand some Acian.
“They seem so awkward,” Mother said.
“Maybe they are bad guys,” Father said, playing with Keller’s fingers. Keller leaned her cheek against his arm. Through the door she could see the window and on the other side of it, a blur of trees passing by faster than she’d ever seen.
Mother stood, watching the window and the men in front of it. The stranger woman was sitting in one of the back chairs, watching them. She saw Keller staring and smiled.
“I want to know how it works,” Mother said. “Do you think it’s like the--” and now Mother said a word Keller didn’t know in the trade language, something from Sateda, “--star racers?”
She stood and started towards the other room, one arm out at her side like she thought she might suddenly fall. Father had told Keller the stillness of the ship was unusual, that in most you could feel the movement. In the fastest, you had to be strapped down.
“Melena,” Father said, sitting straighter. “Soldiers don’t like people wandering into their cockpits.”
“We are not prisoners,” Mother said, and then she turned and spoke to the strangers in the front room in the trade language. From the way they reacted, all speaking at once and jumping up, Keller thought she’d probably repeated herself.
After that, the strangers made an effort to be friendly. The woman came over and offered Keller a chewy candy in a shiny wrapper that sat heavily in her stomach. Father liked it a lot. Up in the front room--the cockpit--the big one had to get out of his chair so Mother could sit in front of the window and talk to the man who was flying the ship. Keller came over with her candy bar and sat on Mother’s lap to look out the window. She recognized the evergreen trees that grew all over the valley, but the perspective was so strange she couldn’t tell where they were.
The skinny stranger spoke to her, smiling.
“He says he’s sorry it’s such a short flight,” Mother said. “When we get to the Ancestors’ city, perhaps someone will be able to take us for a longer flight.”
Keller ate another piece of the brown candy. “Why are we going to the city of the Ancestors?”
Mother shared a look with Father, still sitting in the back. “It’s just to look, Keller.”
“For now,” Father said. The big one was looking back and forth between them, and he muttered something irritable, poking at a thin black box in his hand.
Mother smoothed her hair away from her face. “Is that alright? It will be so bright and there will be so much--we want to give you so much.”
Keller leaned back against the warmth of her Mother’s chest, looking at all of the strangers who were watching her so anxiously. “I’m going to keep my pistol out,” she said, “in case they’re bad guys.”
She thought Mother or Father might speak sternly, but Mother wrapped both arms around Keller, kissing Keller’s hair and laughing like Keller had just given her the best gift in the world.
The gate came into view, so tiny on the horizon. The stranger by the window spoke again in the trade language, but all Keller heard was “Atlantis.”
ETA: This story predates the season four character Jennifer Keller. The name's a coincidence. You should read the earlier story to understand who this Keller is.
Keller
Her mother and father said, “The city of the Ancestors,” like it was more important than food. Keller knew who the Ancestors were. It was their job to take care of poor, dead Sateda, but there were many poor, dead Satedas in the galaxy, and so she and her father and her mother had to remind them every now and then to please take care of this poor dead Sateda. On those days, she was allowed out of the cover of the trees, to light the little memory pyre on the stone butte rising above the valley. Sometimes they went off world to trade for sweet cakes to offer up with the incense smoke, and there were always some left over to eat with the sweet sap from the tall hatee tree.
Keller understood the Ancestors were in some places more than others, except Mother would say they were everywhere, and Keller didn’t understand why a city was better than all the other places. She couldn’t get a picture of her parent’s awe into her head; she thought it had a lot to do with this city business, though Sateda had had many cities and maybe Mother and Father didn’t think they were anything special.
They rode to the gate in a large ship like a flying cave. You went inside and you couldn’t see out again, and even when she looked out the clear window in front she still felt as immovable as rock. The ship didn’t surprise her parents at all, so she sat quietly between them and showed the woman who checked in on them a careful, blank expression. The strangers spoke the trade language, which Keller did not know well. They came from the city of the Ancestors, but they must not be Ancestors, because Keller spoke their language better than they did.
She asked her father in Acian, “Should I take out my pistol?”
He reached over and smoothed her small hand between his large, brown palms. “If they’re bad guys, I’ll shoot them in the head.”
There was a sputtering sound from the ship’s front room, where the window was. She saw the biggest of the strangers lean over and mutter furiously with the skinny one. The big stranger was the one who had seemed to understand some Acian.
“They seem so awkward,” Mother said.
“Maybe they are bad guys,” Father said, playing with Keller’s fingers. Keller leaned her cheek against his arm. Through the door she could see the window and on the other side of it, a blur of trees passing by faster than she’d ever seen.
Mother stood, watching the window and the men in front of it. The stranger woman was sitting in one of the back chairs, watching them. She saw Keller staring and smiled.
“I want to know how it works,” Mother said. “Do you think it’s like the--” and now Mother said a word Keller didn’t know in the trade language, something from Sateda, “--star racers?”
She stood and started towards the other room, one arm out at her side like she thought she might suddenly fall. Father had told Keller the stillness of the ship was unusual, that in most you could feel the movement. In the fastest, you had to be strapped down.
“Melena,” Father said, sitting straighter. “Soldiers don’t like people wandering into their cockpits.”
“We are not prisoners,” Mother said, and then she turned and spoke to the strangers in the front room in the trade language. From the way they reacted, all speaking at once and jumping up, Keller thought she’d probably repeated herself.
After that, the strangers made an effort to be friendly. The woman came over and offered Keller a chewy candy in a shiny wrapper that sat heavily in her stomach. Father liked it a lot. Up in the front room--the cockpit--the big one had to get out of his chair so Mother could sit in front of the window and talk to the man who was flying the ship. Keller came over with her candy bar and sat on Mother’s lap to look out the window. She recognized the evergreen trees that grew all over the valley, but the perspective was so strange she couldn’t tell where they were.
The skinny stranger spoke to her, smiling.
“He says he’s sorry it’s such a short flight,” Mother said. “When we get to the Ancestors’ city, perhaps someone will be able to take us for a longer flight.”
Keller ate another piece of the brown candy. “Why are we going to the city of the Ancestors?”
Mother shared a look with Father, still sitting in the back. “It’s just to look, Keller.”
“For now,” Father said. The big one was looking back and forth between them, and he muttered something irritable, poking at a thin black box in his hand.
Mother smoothed her hair away from her face. “Is that alright? It will be so bright and there will be so much--we want to give you so much.”
Keller leaned back against the warmth of her Mother’s chest, looking at all of the strangers who were watching her so anxiously. “I’m going to keep my pistol out,” she said, “in case they’re bad guys.”
She thought Mother or Father might speak sternly, but Mother wrapped both arms around Keller, kissing Keller’s hair and laughing like Keller had just given her the best gift in the world.
The gate came into view, so tiny on the horizon. The stranger by the window spoke again in the trade language, but all Keller heard was “Atlantis.”