21Stargate: Assiah
A Stargate: SG-1 AU, AT Fan fiction series by Kamikashi. Stargate © Roland Emmerich, MGM, Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner etc. Jamila S. M. E. M. Bartholomew and other OC © Kamikashi. Storyline © Kamikashi.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes, and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Summary: The British Government knows about the Stargate program through its own Alien and decides to put her into it… and a new member comes to SG-1.
Season: 2 and ongoing. After "The Serpent's Lair" and before "In The Line Of Duty".
Pairings: Jack O'Neill & Sam Carter; Daniel Jackson & Janet Fraiser; Jolinar & Lantash (No Martouf though)
BTW I created a font for High Antarian, look: kamikashi. deviantart. com / art / Font-High-Antarian-94771384
1998/99 – Dawn (Season 2)
Enter Jamila. Please read and review!
Prologue: From London with blessings
Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth
NORAD/Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain Complex
SGC Briefing Room
June 30, 1998
1000 Zulu
"Oh, for crying out loud! You cannot be serious, sir!"
Anyone who passed on this particular late summer morning the meeting/briefing room of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex and heard that specific catchphrase knew that SG-1, and especially its CO, Colonel Jonathan J. O'Neill, also known as "Jack", had a chiefly displeasing briefing.
General Hammond, commander of the USAF base and the SGC, simply shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jack. The British were rather displeased with being 'excluded' from this here, and they have got irrevocable evidence for the existence of the Stargate. If we accept the new member for your team, we were promised our share with their pieces of alien technology and knowledge."
"I still don't like it. Why? We got a good team. Why not just allowing the British an own team?" Jack frowned.
"That particular Briton is the evidence against us. Bartholomew is an Alien with vast knowledge who serves in the Royal Navy. I do not really like this either, but… It's not like we got a choice in this matter, Colonel. Do you get it?" Hammond didn't really like it to force this upon his »flagship« team, but according to the uncensored (!) files he had got from the British Admiralty, their Navy officer was a great asset and ally. She would be very useful in their struggle against the Goa'uld.
Jack sighed, defeated. "Alright, alright. Where is that guy transferring from?"
"She is transferring from Devonport Naval Base, Plymouth, in the County of Devon, east to the Duchy of Cornwall in The United Kingdom." A tall, sharp-eyed woman with dark, pinned-up hair, dressed into a British Navy uniform with trousers and a standard forage cap (note 1) (not the one women wear but men), stood in the doorframe. From what Jack and the rest of SG-1 could see, she was well taller than himself, and her stature was not unlike his own, lean, strong and athletic. In her hands, she was holding three thick files with »classified/copy« printed onto them. "Permission to join, General, Sir."
Hammond turned around and smiled. "You really are a Navy, aren't you? Permission granted."
The woman entered the room and placed the files on the table. "Thank you, sir. Captain Bartholomew, Lady Portsmouth reporting as commanded, Sir." She stood to attention and saluted in the British fashion, the palm of her hand facing out.
"At ease, Captain. Have a seat." Hammond gestured towards the chair between himself and the Colonel.
"Thank you, sir." The tall navy officer relaxed, took her cap off, sat down and placed the hat in front of herself, on top of her files.
General Hammond smiled again, noticing her manners. "Welcome to Stargate Command, Captain."
"Thank you, sir."
Jack tilted his head towards her, eyeing her curiously. 'A full-bird Navy Captain (note 2), huh? She seems to be only a little younger than I am, though, despite her looks.' "A Navy, huh?"
She grinned faintly. "A full-bird rubber duck, Colonel, sir. I am the last commander of the HMS Northumberland. That's why I transfer from Devonport."
Daniel snorted. "Rubber duck…"
"Or would you prefer bathing-tub-captain, Mr…"
"Dr Daniel Jackson."
"Oh, sorry. My pleasure, Doctor Jackson. Anyway, General Hammond, sir, as we are already at introductions, it would be convenient to do some more of these."
"You are right, Captain. Colonel."
Jack sighed. "Yes, Sir." He turned to the woman in navy dress blues. "Colonel Jack O'Neill. With two 'l'."
"Ah. The two lima spelling is the spelling of the main clan in Ireland."
"Wow." Quickly, the Colonel recomposed himself and started to introduce the others. "This one here is Captain Samantha Carter, my 2IC and our specialist on the Stargate. I hope you don't mind techno-babble."
"HEY!"
Portsmouth snorted. "Easy, Carter. As long as you don't mind some nautical terms, I shall not mind science."
"This here is Space-monkey aka Daniel Jackson who translates everything but techno-babble." O'Neill continued.
"Jack!"
"And last but not least Teal'c, formerly First Prime of our all annoyance, Apophis."
Teal'c bowed his head.
"Very well, then. It looks like I cannot circumvent introducing myself." She took the hat from the files and shoved them to the Colonel, much to his surprise. "These are copies of my files – practically without blackening. I can imagine how much you trust me right now, sir, so it's up to you if you read them or not." She straightened herself in her chair, closed and reopened her eyes. Purple eyes. "One's name is Jamila Sarah Miranda Elizabeth Mary Bartholomew, by courtesy of one's mother Marchioness of Portsmouth. At least this is what one is in this life and body."
"Here it comes…" Jack murmured while both Sam and Daniel stared in disbelieve at the Captain.
"As you heard already and my secondary file gives away, I am NOT human. The highest evidence is the fact that my psychic age is slightly less than 15 milliard (note 3) years while I am actually 41 and my blood is blue, literally. Also, there is this issue…" Shaking the black-brown head, Bartholomew's hair suddenly turned to a rich, greenish cobalt blue, and as far as Sam could see, it had a downright metallic sheen.
But before the Navy could continue, the alarm sounded and Walter Harriman's (note 4) voice sounded through the intercom, "Unscheduled Off-world Activation!"
Immediately, everyone went down to the dialling room below. "It's SG-9, General, sir."
"Open the Iris."
SG-9 raced through the gate, a couple of Jaffa right at their tail. "Close the iris now!" their CO shouted. The iris was closed again and a couple of dull hits at it indicated that indeed more had been on its way before the gate disengaged.
Before the SFs in the gate room could react, however, Portsmouth disappeared in a flash and reappeared in the gate room below. It was over in an instant. Before anyone could do anything, she gathered a ball lightning of the size of a basketball over her hands crossed in front of her face and, with a simple glare, she sent the Jaffa and their staff weapons flying – in opposite directions. Afterwards, she jumped back and threw the ball lightning at the levitated Jaffa and yelled, "God makes no mistakes!" The Jaffa screamed as the lightning enveloped them… and vanished.
Upstairs, Jack stared at the scene in disbelieve. "What the hell was that, sir?"
Hammond smiled tiredly, remembering a report in the second – the alien – file of Captain Bartholomew that she was capable of doing this. "This, Colonel O'Neill, is the very reason why she is placed on your team, like Captain Carter. The First Sea Lord (note 5) personally warned me of this. Ah, Captain," he said as the tall Navy reappeared at their side, "had some fun?"
"Hardly, sir. Mortuos plango sempiternam. I pity the dead." Portsmouth shook her head, breathing heavily. "Anyway, I believe that there are some more things to discuss, aren't there?"
"Certainly. SG-1, to the briefing room." He bowed over the microphone. "SG-9, to the infirmary for check-up and debriefing at 1130." After that, he marched up the stairs to the briefing room, where SG-1 and the Navy stood at their chairs.
"At ease. Sit down, please." Hammond took his seat at the end of the table. Chairs were moved, and SG-1 sat at the table once again. "So, where were we? I believe that you should better explain your little demonstration back down there, Captain."
"Yes, sir." Portsmouth frowned. "I was born a human, but obviously, my soul is not human. As I was fifteen, I had a near-accident. Instead of being hit by a car, I 'teleported' out of the way. The next day, my blood turned blue and I had to hide my hair until I could 'control' that. And then, the visions and nightmares came which told me that I am an alien entity. I cannot remember my former… existences properly yet, but…" She opened her palm, and suddenly, a ball of lightning was glowing and crackling over it, which she tossed into the air like a tennis ball. As it came back down, seemingly on her whim, she closed the palm over it and it vanished. "I can do things beyond understanding. I can make things move at will. I can levitate. That lightning… was composed of highly compressed electric plasma or something like that. I can use it as a weapon as you have seen." She grimaced. "But the number one abilities to my COs were the teleporting and matter-manipulation."
Jack, ever with his face in a mask, eyed her again. He knew that kind of grimace. He had seen it a couple of times on his own face while looking into the mirror after a nightmare. "And they had no shame in abusing it."
The British simply nodded. "Anyway, the main fact I remembered from my former existences is that I am an »Antarian«, a »Child of Light«." Cracking her neck, her hair was reverted to "human" as she placed her hands on the table again.
Now Daniel was the one with great interest on his face. "Antarian? You mean like the star, Antares?"
"Yes. Apparently, in the language of 'my kind', Antares means »mirror of light«, and Antarian »Child of light« or servant of Light, and Lord of Space."
"Wait…"
"In human mythologies, there is only one description how to translate the self-concept of my kind into human terms. It seems that I made a statement about the nature of Antarians long ago. Watching Everyone, Learning Everything, Protectors of the Balance of The Universes, Guardians of Dimensions, Friends of Everyone but the enemies of life, who we despise." Portsmouth sighed.
"Angels!" Daniel gasped.
"Correct. The Antarians are the 'Angels' of human mythologies."
Now Jack was back in the conversation. "Wait a sec…"
She turned her head to him. "What?"
"You know, with the Goa'uld and the Asgard on Earth, what was the Antarians' role? Culture-bringer or We-rule-all-we-are-gods?"
Her next reaction proved that calling her a »god« was really a bad idea. Her purple eyes flashed as if a lighting bolt had struck through them. With an unearthly voice, which was clearly not that of a Goa'uld, she hissed, "There is no God but the one who created everything, which we shall serve for all time. I serve, I do not rule."
Daniel quickly jumped in, for the air was crackling with static electricity. "You mean, the Angels described in all human cultures are actually Aliens? That would mean that there is a third type of alien influence on humanity."
As quickly as the anger came, it was gone. "Correct again. As you have put it, sir, the main influence on Assiah's children was either the culture-bringers, like the Asgard and some others, or the tyrants, like the Goa'uld. The third, minor group are the watchers and idea-bringers. A more subtle approach on helping this world without disturbing its balance is the way of the Antarians. That's all I remember so far… but I can dig up any knowledge."
Hammond nodded. "This is why you are here. You remembered the Stargate, according to your CO."
Now it was Portsmouth's time to let her head hung. "More or less. My orders are to tell you nothing but the truth about me, join SG-1, learn more… and telling you why my soul is apparently slightly older than the universe itself."
"What? This is impossible!" Carter exclaimed.
"Oh, really… and what about The Creator?"
"Eh…"
"Exactly. The first thing I remembered was the purpose of my very existence, and why I am not allowed to die before I remember everything. I am," she took a deep breath in, "some kind of living record data file of the entire universes."
SGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGC
The silence and the tension in the air that followed the Lady's defeated statement was thick enough to be cut with a combat knife. Finally, Jack and Daniel broke in simultaneously. "What the hell?!"
Instead of answering immediately, Portsmouth grinned and, out of nowhere, a small white Plexiglas sign with »l. l. a. m. – laughing like a maniac« scribbled onto it appeared in her left hand. "You really should see your own face, Colonel, sir. Rest assured, I could not really believe it either in the first place, but then again, how do I know things which are mysteries to the world? How should a normal SBS Captain know about this?" She gestured towards the Stargate. "At least, I have some kind of psychic access to such an archive."
"Point taken, Portsmouth. Would you mind to stop laughing?" Jack grew more and more irritated by the handheld sign every second.
"Oh, sorry." She placed the sign beside her forage cap. "I tend to get quite exited sometimes, especially about laughing…"
"And so you use internet chat abbreviations for laughing instead." Sam finished.
Hammond sensed that there was not much more to tell for now. "Well, I guess that's it for now, SG-1. You leave for a mission tonight. Only light exploration for starters, Captain."
"I can imagine. You need your own judgement, don't you, sir."
"You're right, Captain. Go to the quartermaster, he has the numbers of your room and your laboratory. I believe your equipment has also been delivered."
"Thank you, sir."
Hammond got up, and the officers stood to attention. "Dismissed."
"Sir!" They called in chorus before leaving.
"Colonel, I await your presence in my office. Now."
"Yes, sir."
At Hammond's office, the tone quickly changed. "So what do you think of the First Sea Lord's favourite toy, Jack?"
"Honestly? I don't know. She is about as open as…" he trailed off.
"Yourself? That's no surprise. I got six different versions of her military records here. The official one is not even worth reading, nearly all pages are blackened out. The only things readable are her last command, her name and her education." The General showed the official file to his confused 2IC. "Does that remind you of something?"
Jack moaned. He knew that having such a file was never good. "My file looks exactly like this, sir. I'm sure that she would have to kill anyone outside of work who read these files here." He held up the unclassified folders she had given him earlier.
Hammond let out a frustrated sigh, venting both his own and his best officer's puzzled emotions. "I wonder what we have done that we deserve this…"
"I have no idea, sir. Anything else I can do for you?"
"According to her last CO, the First Sea Lord, Lady Portsmouth enjoys extensive training, more than necessary for a Captain, the high life and a spot of tea. Observe her and then tell me what you think of her. Dismissed."
Jack stood to attention. "Yes, sir."
As the Colonel left the room, he could hear his CO picking up the phone. "Into what have I gotten myself?" he murmured as he made his way to the Quartermaster's office.
After leading Portsmouth to the Quartermaster, Sam quickly found out that the Navy had a temper reminding her a lot of her CO. "What do you mean, only Container No 1 has been delivered yet?!" she hissed with gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, really, but your equipment is considered so special that they got problems with delivering all of it at once."
Right now, Sam really, really didn't want to be in the poor Technical Sergeant's shoes. The glare of these purple eyes and the statically loaded atmosphere in the room was worthy of an O'Neill. 'Time to lighten the mood,' she decided. "What are the room and locker numbers of the Captain, Technical Sergeant?"
The Technical Sergeant turned to the Navy officer. "Your laboratory is on Level 23, opposite of Colonel O'Neill's office, ma'am. Quarters are on the same level, to the right of yours, Captain Carter, ma'am. For lockers, we have already stuffed one for you in the women's locker room and designated it as yours." He handed her a slip of paper. "Your lock code."
As abruptly as a London-five-o'clock-rain poured down, Portsmouth cooled down. "Thank you. About the secondary–"
"It will arrive soon enough, ma'am. Oh, and the 'special material' has already been sent to your lab, Captain Bartholomew, ma'am." The quartermaster shook his head. "I just wonder what you are going to do with–"
"None of your business, Quartermaster, thank you. And now, I wouldn't mind some blue BDU's. It's not that I don't like my dress blues, but I am not intending on covering it with coal dust. And I am not really the best in ironing."
Speechless, the Technical Sergeant went to the back and returned with some blue BDU's and handed them to the tall Briton. "Ma'am."
"Thank you, Quartermaster." Without more ado, she turned around. "Lead the way, Captain Carter."
"Yes, ma'am."
About fifteen minutes later, Jack O'Neill entered his own office, placing the files of the newest addition to SG-1 into his desk and then intending on having a look into her office/laboratory after he found out that she had already left the Quartermaster's office in order to 'redecorate' her rooms. Outside again, he bumped into his 2IC, who was definitely spacing out. "Sorry Carter. Something wrong? You look like you have gotten yourself a new doohickey!"
Sam shook her head as she noticed him, bewildered. "Sir! You won't believe what Captain Bartholomew is doing!"
Jack followed her gaze and gasped as he saw through the open door. In the middle of the new lab, his new team member sat levitating in mid-air over a couple of pallets loaded with hard coal, eyes closed and concentrating hard. The coal however, which was enveloped in an eerie light, vanished bit by bit while at the same time on the empty wall to the right shimmering crystals and something like a computer console were 'growing' out. "Captain?"
Carter shook her head. "No use, sir. I tried to speak to her before; in effect, she is deaf, or at least »not here«, sir. And don't try approaching her, sir –" Too late. With some long strides, Jack tried to enter the room and was pushed back forcefully. He stumbled backwards.
"– she uses some kind of force field on the room. I was pushed back too." finished Sam. "I think she wants to make sure that she is not interrupted."
After a few minutes, the strange light died and the pallets of coal had completely disappeared. With a soft tapping sound, Bartholomew landed on her feet again. "Sorry sir. Just wanted to make sure I would not dissolve you… Do you want to come in?"
Both USAF officers were at a loss for words as they entered. The wall to the right was covered with some really, really shiny crystals and a computer console made of some black material stood in one of the corners. Finally, they managed to mouth a synchronous "Wow!"
"Glad you like it. These," she waved at the crystals, "are data crystals, but most of them are still empty or filled with rather useless stuff."
Fascinated, Carter stepped closer. "Which capacity do the crystals have?"
"In Bytes? No idea. Even one of the small crystals is about ten terabytes. Not compressed." She shook her head. "To be honest, I don't even know why I created such a vast 'hard disk' drive. I just know that I will need it one day. Anything I can do for you, sir?"
Jack nodded curtly. "Yes. The Quartermaster said that the rest of your equipment will be delivered before we go for that mission tonight. Anyway, how should I refer to you? We are equally ranked after all, but…"
Jamila opened one of the transportation boxes on the floor and began to arrange some objects on her desk. "I take it that you never dealt with a member of Peerage before, sir? I'm Portsmouth. That's my title of courtesy. The actual title holder is my mother. Anyone outside of my family refers to me just as »Portsmouth«, sir. And thank you for the information."
"Portsmouth it is then. And you are welcome." He turned to leave.
Carter seemed to be completely lost in thoughts as she continued to stare at the data crystals. At last, she asked, "What's on the crystals as of now? How does the interface of the console work? How do you save data in the crystals? And what is that console for?" All in one breath. "Ma'am." she added.
Portsmouth turned around, displaying a baffled face at the astrophysicist's blinding speech speed. "Err… Colonel, sir… Is she always like this?"
Jack half-grinned, half-frowned. "That's the light version of Carter 1.0."
"Oh. Well, Carter, the console is a) a computer b) a long-range psycho-communication device, c) on the crystals is a basic system program comparable to Microsoft Windows or something like that, and some music I like to keep around and d) The interface is this plate on the surface for a non-Antarian, for it is a neural interface. Your thoughts control the system. And by the way, e) I have no real idea how it works." The Navy placed a big, old-fashioned bell alarm clock on the desk and set the time, which caught Jack's attention.
"Whoa, it's already lunch time! Do you like Jell-O?"
"Looks like it, sir. Uhm, no. I prefer cake and tea." She glanced at him questioningly.
Jack grinned again. "Oh, I think we can arrange that. I meet you all in the commissary. Carter."
"Sir?" Sam snapped out of her awestruck trance.
"Show her the way. And pick up Danny-boy and Teal'c." And he was gone.
Carter shook her head and turned to the Captain. "Well, that was the Colonel for you. If you would please follow me, ma'am…"
Closing the box again, Portsmouth made an inviting gesture. "Lead the way, Carter."
In the commissary, Jack sat down with something that should be Lasagne, a slice of chocolate cake and the military file of his new team mate. "Let's see what you are capable of, Milady…" He began to shuffle through her file. "…born 1957 in London, educated at public school St Andrews College, Liverpool; finished A-level with fifteen. Fifteen? Not bad. Entered Navy with sixteen…" He took a bite of his Lasagne and remembered the awards on her dress blues. "This is getting weirder and weirder… Graduated from Naval Academy and the ICL at 22 with three DScs on the rank of Lieutenant. Geez, I hope she's not a geek…"
"Who is not a geek, Jack?" Daniel sat down opposite of him, the rest of the team following on his heels.
The Colonel didn't listen. "SBS Officer Selection as Master Sniper, Swimmer Canoeist and SBS operator. Solo Combatant. Selection. Now this is interesting… Oh, hi everyone." He closed the file and started digging into his meal.
"Hello, sir. Ah, the wonderful smell of shit on a shovel – standard commissary food." Portsmouth took the seat to the right of the young archaeologist, a hell-defying smile on her face.
Jack snorted as the rest of SG-1 sat down. "Yeah, always worthy of forgetting it. So, you're a sniper, huh?"
"Looks like my training caused some interest." She sighed. "Yes, I am a sniper. And actually, I currently hold the world record for both long distance kill and close-in distance kill."
"From how far and how close?"
"Long distance kill from 2601 metres. Close-in distance kill 76 metres." She shrugged and dug into her meal. "I have to admit that being not human makes it a bit easier."
Jack didn't look up from his slice of chocolate cake as he answered, "Figures as such. It is that teleporting ability of yours isn't it?"
Jamila dropped both her head and her spoon. "Yes. And altered perception and awareness. Would you mind to change the subject? Some things really don't need to be warmed up, you know, sir."
He observed her again and decided to let it slip for now. "All right." He downed his coffee with the last bit of his cake. "I know the feeling, trust me."
"So, what are you planning to do now, Captain?" Daniel decided that it would be good to fill the silence with something more harmless than the Captain's abilities in combat.
The woman in question finished the last of her soup. "I guess I should unpack the boxes with my personal belongings and stuff my office. And then maybe call home for a few minutes."
She got up, and so did Jack. "I'll tag along if you don't mind. I have to get rid of your file for a while."
Jamila grinned, amused. "Well, I could use some company."
"Well then, guys, we'll see you at 1900 in the briefing room. Let's go, Milady." And they were gone.
Daniel arched both his eyebrows. "Wow. If that wasn't unique…"
"Indeed."
As he mentioned before, Jack stopped by his office to place the file into the drawers of his paperwork-covered desk and re-entered the now really unique office of the SBS operator. "Captain?" he called as he couldn't see her.
"Over here!" The Swimmer Canoeist's head reappeared from behind her desk as she placed a rectangular object made of the same material as the computer console on the desk. Several other objects from out of the box were flying in mid-air, seeking their respective places on the shelves in the opened locker on the wall.
"Eh…"
"Psychokinesis. Also known as Telekinesis. The ability to move things at will. Sometimes comes in handy. Especially if you have no real talent for tidying up at all." She grinned.
"I see. Anything else you cannot do?"
"Ironing. I cannot iron. Especially my shirts. Peeling vegetables. And I am really, really the worst Swimmer Canoeist in parachuting. I still don't know how I mastered the tests for my parachutist wings." She made a mock grimace.
Jack snorted. "We all have our faults. By the way, what is that?" He pointed to the flat object she had put on top of her desk by hand, just like the oversized bell alarm clock. It had roughly the size of a magazine and was about twice as thick as one.
Jamila turned to the object in question and motioned him to sit down on the chair in front of the desk while she took her seat. "It's a holograph projector and photo album. Care to see some, sir?"
"Why not. The only other thing I have to do is killing red tape." He sighed.
"Ha-ha-ha. Finally, a man who hates the paperwork as much as I do. Well, here we go…" She waved her left hand at the apparatus and suddenly, a three-dimensional picture of a rather large group of people was seen. The projector turned – by psychokinesis, he presumed – enough so that both he and Portsmouth had a good look at the image.
Curious, Jack got closer. "Who are they?"
"My family."
He studied her for a few seconds. 'She certainly has her own demons to deal with, but…' He cut short his train of thoughts as he noticed something on her left hand. "You are married."
No question. A statement. The fact didn't escape the Antarian. "I am. These…" She pointed out a man in a wheelchair and a tall, silver-haired woman who stood at the left side of the image, "are my parents. The ones behind me are my siblings."
"Three siblings. You are the eldest, aren't you…?"
"I am. And this man is my husband. Captain William Andrews. I still got to laugh at the memory how he proposed…" She had a grin rivalling the Cheshire cat on her face.
"Oh? What's so funny about a proposal?"
"I was the only one who didn't know that he was going to propose. He even asked my parents for approval without my knowledge… and then, on the day I left Navy Academy, he proposed to me in front of the whole Academy!" Her expression was stunned, confused, bewildered at the mere memory; in short, a perfect copy of an O'Neill-I-do-not-understand-face.
"Wow. Quite a way to propose."
"Do you know what was best about it?"
O'Neill shook his head.
"Up until then, I hated the man with a passion and so he did. Or so I thought."
Now it was the time for Jack to be confused. "How come?"
"We were rivals. Always trying to be better than the other. Met him first at the Imperial College. And I was always better than him. I made it top score as an MSc and MA. I was the top cadet at the Academy. And he always was second. Second to a girl." They chuckled.
"And as he knelt there, in front of the First Sea Lord, my family and the whole forsaken Academy, offering himself to me, he admitted that some time in that crazy ongoing duel he came to love me and gave up. Instead of trying to surpass me for himself, he chased me to stay close. In that moment I knew that I either could stay with him… or scare men away the rest of my life. I chose stay. And I don't regret it." She shook her head, a fond smile on her lips.
Jack didn't know what to think about this. It was certainly the craziest engagement story he had ever heard before. And so he laughed, accompanied by another handheld »laughing sign« (this time with "lol") by the Lady. Finally, he asked, "Why do you tell me all of this?"
Portsmouth covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. "It's nothing you wouldn't have found by reading my files, sir. And it seems like the jetlag is catching up on me… usually I do not let my guard down that much."
"I noticed. That's why I asked… You remind me a bit of myself about these things." He shook his head.
The tall woman abandoned the »laughing sign« and shrugged her shoulders. "I do not expect you to tell me of that kind of stories on your side, sir. That story I told you is known to more than tree hundred Navy officers and their families, so it is not really something private. Especially if your mother is a politician and musician. I take it that you are a rather private person, and so am I. I would not tell you the story how I came to hate my maternal grandmother for instance."
"I see."
"Well, if you excuse me now, sir, I still have to 'decorate' my on-base quarters." Jamila got up again, a lightly embarrassed half-smile on her face.
"Certainly. I see you later then." He stood up and left for his office, feeling a sensation of dread as he saw the waiting mountains of red tape on his desk, now including Portsmouth's transfer papers and her file he still wanted to read, now even more. Sitting down again and starting on the file and the transfer papers, he asked the picture on the first page of the file, "Who are you, for crying out loud? Why are you here? What the hell has brought you here?"
Notes:
1 Peaked cap of an commissioned officer and warrant officer in the UK.
2 A Captain in the Navy is the same as a Colonel/Group Captain (UK) in the other departments of the Armed Forces, NATO-rank-code OF-5.
3 EN-USA: 15 billion
4 Mr "Chevron 7 locked"
5 Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy
Jamila is spoken "Ja-mée-la", stress on "ee".
DSc (Doctor of Science) is the highest Doctorate grade in UK, usually given to the fields of natural Sciences.
You usually graduate from a military Academy at the rank of Sub-Lieutenant/ 2nd Lieutenant, NATO-rank-code OF-1.
AN: For all you SamJack DanielJanet shippers, this AU will turn eventually into a shipping story, and don't worry, Jamila is more of a supporting character with energy and memory problems.
Please read and review!