Disclaimer: Highlander: the Series belongs to Gauamont, Panzer/Davis Productions and its respective producers and creators. Stargate SG-1 as well as the characters belong to Geko, Renaissance Pictures and do not belong to me.
Highlander: the Series belongs to Gauamont, Panzer/Davis Productions and its respective producers and creators. Stargate SG-1 as well as the characters belong to Geko, Renaissance Pictures and do not belong to me.
"Birds of a Feather" by Karen
The Mile High City is aptly named, Amanda thinks gazing out of the window of the DC-1o as it hovered in a holding pattern above the airport waiting its turn to land at the busy terminal. From her vantage point Amanda can see the lights of sky scrappers, traffic on the highways, and the residences all coated with a thin blanket of new fallen snow. Nice, but she had more pressing concerns on her mind, like not being late for her appointment.
Amanda tore her gaze away from the landscape to glance down at the gleaming readout of her digital wrist watch, steadily tapping a lacquered and manicured fingernail on the surface of the watch; pointedly ignoring the annoyed glare of the businessman in the seat beside her. If this waiting kept up for much longer and the plane did not land soon she would be late for her appointment.
Speaking of which, she thought, in a back corner of her mind, the man who had contacted her while she'd been enjoying a vacation in Eastern Europe, had been very insistent on promptness. In fact, he had been all but twitchy about it. The details had been sketchy from what he'd said, and the fact he'd gone to all that trouble to track her down and gush about her skills as a thief had intrigued her enough to book the flight and make the journey back to the United States.
She figured she would get more information once she they met face to face. She tried to put a face to the name on the letter and documents she had read. All she had to gone on was the name he had provided: Colonel Maybourne, Air Force, and a career military officer.
The exact nature of his department again sketchy, demanding, and a little on the paranoid side if he needed help from a thief. Of course Amanda had never thought of herself as ordinary cut purse, run of the mill thief; she was a professional and the kind that enjoyed a good adventure not without a certain amount of risk involved.
The final mental picture she came up with for the man was a swallow pinched face, older man, with a slightly receding hairline and blue eyes. It would be interesting to see if her mental picture matched that of the man once they finally met face to face.
She was relieved at finally being on the ground and away from the airport with minutes to spare before she was due to make her appointment. The frustration came officials at the customs security desk asking irritating questions about several items in her checked luggage; namely the ones with pointy ends, like her swords and her lockpicks: "I do hope this entire trip wasn't a goose chase."
Amanda wheeled her luggage onto the street curb the heels of her designer leather boots leaving small snail-shaped tracks in the snow; the air crisp, clean and not cold enough to make her shiver through the insulated lining of her duster coat after experiencing the chill of Moscow.
She crossed the street at the change in the traffic light along with other pedestrians and bicycle riders, trying to recall the details of the directions to the small café she'd been directed to head towards upon her arrival in Denver.
"Whistle Stop Café, that was it." Amanda muttered aloud.
Several wrong turns later and a six blocks to the east she found the café and realized she still had time to spare. Settling into one of the outdoor patio tables Amanda ordered a black coffee and was perusing the café's menu when the man who'd gone to all that effort of tracking her down and making contact finally decided to show up.
The flesh and blood individual almost but not quite matched up with the mental picture that she had formed of him on the plane. For one thing he wore civilian garb, pleated twill slacks, a dress shirt, and a silk tie. For Amanda's expensive standards, it was okay, either he didn't know any better or couldn't afford on a military man's salary.
"Amanda?"
"Colonel Maybourne, I presume?"
He nodded and sat down in the seat facing her, elbows resting on the table's surface. "What did you order?"
"Black coffee," Amanda shrugged, "I've flown several thousand miles on let's face it, very sketchy but intriguing information, and I'm not in the mood to pussy foot around."
"Did anyone ever tell you, you can be very demanding?"
"Yeah, but it gets results."
"I will grant you that." Maybourne glanced at the café and the people walking by and driving along the streets that paralleled the café's location, seemingly ill at ease and not certain how he wanted to conduct the meeting now that were actually face to face. A nervous twinge in the muscles of his left cheekbone stirred, while Amanda waited for him to say something more.
The momentary awkwardness passed when the waiter came over with her coffee.
She grasped the handle of the cup and took a few sips.
"Let's get right to the point, you've got a job for me."
"Yes, but the question is, if you're the right person for it."
"The circumstances are delicate, and highly classified, and I'm not entirely certain anyone could pull off what I have in mind." Maybourne tilted his head to one side, thinking matters through. "After all, I do have certain procedures to observe."
"Don't tell me, your CIA, and if you tell me, then you will have to kill me." Amanda sighed.
"Don't joke about things like that. You never know who might be listening."
"If that's what got your knickers in a knot, hon." Amanda winked, "You might have chosen somewhere more private."
"It's come my attention that parties within or working in the Air Force have acquired an item of shall we say uncertain origin." Maybourne replied ingnoring her verbal sallies.
"Is it valuable?" Is it bigger than a breadbox?"
"Valuable enough to the right interested parties. Getting in, locating it, and getting out again is the hard part. That's why I scoured people with shall we say, talents."
"And certain loose moral fiber?"
"You're a thief and I want you steal something very valuable for me."
"I am a very professional thief and you still haven't told me what you want me to go after," Amanda demanded.
"A pair of bracelets."
"Jewelry?"
"Yes, but not ordinary jewelry rather it is a piece of very intriguing and valuable technology designed to look like jewelry."
"You got my attention. Go on."
"It's housed in an Air Force base approximately 30 minutes drive from where we're sitting and security is about as tight as it is humanly possible to make it.
"Not up to the challenge?" Maybourne asked.
"Not the problem I having with this task you want me to take on," Amanda replied.
"Then what’s the problem?"
"My payment."
"Money?
"Yes, what else is there, money and the challenge. " Amanda smiled.
"You got a taker, just be sure that I get my half of the fee, plus expenses. Half now, and have when the job's complete. Or no deal."
"You drive a hard bargain." Maybourne sighed, "but very well, you have a deal and the contract. I'll provide the necessary paperwork and supplemental information enclosed in an envelope. We'll get you to the facility, but from there you are on your own."
"Agreed." Amanda held out her and Maybourne after a moment of hesitation shook it to seal the deal.
Meanwhile at the Chyenne Mountain Daniel Jackson and the newest if reluctant addition to the SG-1 team are cooling their heels in the infirmary ward while the new CMO ran yet another innumerable blood test on their reactions to the Ancients bracelets.
Daniel kept insisting that the purpose of the device was to serve as some kind of communication tool. In the back corner of his mind Daniel did not want to admit that as annoying, bossy, and demanding as Vala was, and the fact the she seemed to drag a great deal of trouble around with her, whether of her own making or borrowed other's trouble. He was beginning to like, heaven forbid; actually enjoy her visits, and sometimes her intelligence and barbed wit. How much of that affection was returned on her part was difficult to say because she seemed to flirt and have equal fondness for another new addition to the team Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell as well, admittedly they had known each other longer, even prior to his assignment to the SG Command, Daniel gave himself a mental jumpstart, 'Face it, man, either it’s the green eyed monster of jealousy rearing its ugly head, or the connection caused by the bracelet's effect is beginning to have more of an effect on you than you're willing to admit.'
Vala hooked up to the doctor's machine dressed in a gray nondescript jumpsuit, glanced over at her fellow patient. She spared a glance down at the metal band encircling her wrist and that of Doctor Jackson and via the link she felt a backlash of his thoughts, and inwardly realized that persistence really did pay off sometimes.
She thought about everything they had been through because of a random mischance, that no one had been aware prior to placing them on their wrists, that at the moment that metal met flesh, that if two people wore them at the same time, a mental and possibly permanent link would be established.
To Vala's way of thinking that's a nice sentiment, in theory. However, in practice it's a bit wearisome not to mention a hindrance in conducting business and commerce, and for someone who’s business requires a certain amount of flexibility and mobilization, not to mention a nice, fast ship with a faster than light drive. So being tied down like this is very irritating. She wonders how he puts up with the fuss, and the hovering of the Tauri's medical professionals.
Meanwhile
Amanda's reaction to seeing just how tight security was around the mountain complex she'd been told to try and break into was shock quickly turning to anger. The word daunting came to mind, and imposing, but never the word impossible. With quite a bit of strenuous effort and the grappling hooks and harness she had been provided, one could feasibly climb to the summit and gain access to the entryway, then enter the security password, sneak pass the guards and get inside. All of course, assuming the information was accurate. That was an awful lot of if in that equation, Amanda muttered to himself, Still you knew the risks going and the were at least marginally acceptable. Look at the bright side, if you pull this off it will be the heist of the century; too bad it's classified. Boy, do I hate that word.
Amanda got out of the rental car, stuffed the road map into the glove compartment, and turned off the ignition before she opened the door and got out, taking a backpack of supplies and swinging around her shoulders.
She walked around for a bit trying to find an easier means by which to get inside the complex, trying to recall by memory if anything in the documents had included a ground level entrance, when it hit her. Right around the edge where the mountain's feet meet flush with the hard packed ground there was a paved track. One wouldn't know it was there unless you knew what to look for. Amanda whistled. "I guess the old boy was on the level after all. Go figure.
She sprinted forward, irritably brushing aside the clinging branches of trees and bushes that she feel by touch and smell in the falling darkness of early twilight in the mountains. Getting closer she realized that the entrance was also heavily guarded and lit by strobe lights; armed guards in military uniform paced up and down the length of the entrance.
Amanda cursed and ducked behind a thick tree trunk. Gauging her moment to emerge from concealment and dart inside the entrance. When the moment came she was almost a fraction of a second too late, and the metal implements in the backpack rattled just loud to almost give away her presence.
Amanda glanced around, taking the measure of the place, except for a few exceptions here and there, the place appeared uniformly spartan, the same metal walls, floors, and tunnels running in north to south directions. A few electronic panels set flush into the wall, along the overhead lighting to provide a little illumination. Good thing I have a map. I wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into this time."
While she'd been wool gathering a military security detail passed by. They were escorting a woman wearing a full-length gray jumpsuit with long dark hair with a distinctive white streak running through the middle tied up in a bun. The severe style suited her narrow features.
While she'd been wool gathering a military security detail passed by. They were escorting a woman wearing a full-length gray jumpsuit with long dark hair with a distinctive white streak running through the middle tied up in a bun. The severe style suited her narrow features.
A chance glimpse and a turn of her head, Amanda felt a jolt of recognition pass through her nerve endings. It wasn't the same sensation she experienced upon encountering another of her kind, Immortals, but it more visceral than that.
"Who the hell is this woman?" Amanda muttered under her breath.
Vala stopped walking, tugging on Daniel Jacskon's arm when she felt that passing jolt of sudden recognition pass by and through her. "I think we have a visitor," Lt. Colonel Mitchell, " she said, pointing directly at the nook in which Amanda crouched.
"Come on out here and identify yourself," the younger man addressed as Mitchell demanded.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Daniel asked.
"Direct, to the point. I guess I like that." Amanda replied, coming out to where she could be clearly seen. "I'm a hiker and I got lost."
"Not going to fly, lady," Mitchell said. "You're obviously an intruder. So we'll give you two choices, come quietly or we do this the hard way."
"Nice, we you stop to think about. I think I'll choice door number one."
"Vala, do you know this woman?" Daniel asked, noticing the measuring look in the other woman's eyes.
"No. But I have heard of her before." Her name is Amanda Devariux and she's trouble."
"Well there's an endorsement in itself," Daniel remarked.
"What are you babbling about?"
"You didn't know?"
"You got something to say to me, sister, then spit it out."
"Immortals," don't recognize a good deal even when it's shoved in their smug little faces. I know what you are, what your kind is."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just here to complete a contract, nothing more."
"That line might have fooled the others, "but let's just say I get out a bit more, and while I've been hanging out in the back corners of the galaxy I've picked up a few things."
"Like what?" Like the fact that you've been around for the last 5,000 years, give or take a decade, that you've got a long life-line, and you carry a very big sword around."
"All right," Amanda muttered. "For the sake of argument, we'll pretend you're not insane lunatic, and you know what you're talking about. How the hell do you even that much about Immortals?" It's not like its common knowledge."
"It's my business to know things nobody else does. Otherwise, I wouldn't stay in circulation as long as I have."
"Great, just damn great." So, you gonna rat me out and turn me over to the military boys?"
"Not so much."
"You're from outer space, give me a break!"
"I am, your progenitors, for lack of a better word as also from outer space?"
"No offense, but I think you're insane."
"Well, none taken," Vala replied, "But I won't be the one to make that final determination."
"Besides, I was feeling a bit of that envy of eternal existence, and something amusing was about to happen." She shrugged and added, "So I dropped by."
"Good of you to make the effort," Vala muttered. "It's not everyday one of the Ancients side experiments deigns to pay us a visit."
"I've got a proposition for you," Vala said. "You could stay and work with the SG-1 or you could come with on my next cargo run."
"Let me get this straight," Amanda gritted her teeth, "You'll only let me go free if I agree to play nice and work with you guys?"
"I like her," Mitchell said.
"You would," Daniel replied, shaking his head, it didn't take a genius to figure that Vala was trouble, and this just confirms that idea."
"So do I," Vala said, yanking on the tight bands that held her bun in place. "She reminds me of someone I am quite fond of," she shrugged. "Me."
"Great, that's all we need, two of you," Mitchell muttered.
"We'll have to clear this with the General. In the meantime we can't have her running around the base unsupervised.
"What am I, ten years old?" Amanda griped. "And I don't know the first thing about being in the military."
"More like 2,000, but who's counting? After all, it's a woman prerogative to lie about her age," Vala said.
"Don't rub it in, or I might not consider sticking around this nutty club," Amanda winked and rubbed her hands together. "So where do I start?"
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