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Throw It In The Sea
So hell, Carter looked ready to forgo the chain of command and just kill me last time I saw her and Daniel and I haven't communicated at anything below shouting volume since the last mission, but don't all teams go through rough patches?
Okay, so maybe most teams don't have a six-foot-four alien who completely lost it at that last shouting match between Daniel and me and actually threatened us with his staff weapon. Teal'c furious is an awesome sight.
So I thought what we needed was some time apart, sleep for a week, maybe get some fishing in, that sort of thing - but no, the sadistic bastards have thought of something 'better': we're going sailing.
"What you need," Mackenzie said, "is some time together in a non-military environment."
Oh yay.
Immediately had dreadful visions of a PMSing captain, a borderline (borderline? HAH!) psychotic colonel, an infuriating (apparently) and insomniac (definitely) me and a Jaffa who seems to have shaken off serenity and now raises his staff weapon whenever Jack and I even look at each other, all cooped up in one of those dreadfully 'relaxing' CenterParc holiday houses they have over in Europe.
Oh, the horror
Imagine my shock when reality turned out to be WORSE!
We're going to be on a ship. Now I quite like sailing, but cooped up on a ship with them, with NO way to avoid each other?
FOR A TRANSATLANTIC CROSSING!
I hope it has a brig. And perhaps I'd better tip them to bring some straightjackets aboard too.
Right.
Let me get this straight.
Hanging over the railing puking your insides out is supposed to be a team bonding experience?
We are being sent on a ship. I am pleased, though O'Neill and
Daniel Jackson and Captain Carter are not so. At last I will see more of the Tau'ri world.
The captain of the ship came to brief us. It is what she called a brig; a square-rigged twomasted sailship. It requires rigorous manual labour to sail, such as climbing the masts to set the sails and, apparently, much hauling on ropes. We are to join them on the crossing to Portsmouth, England.
Captain Anadottir was unpleasantly surprised to see that 75 of the team most certainly does not want to go sailing. I am not sure if I sufficiently displayed my own interest.
So captain Anadottir (interesting name, Icelandic descend? She does have the looks ) let General Hammond know that she was not prepared to have our team aboard. We are not motivated. No kidding!
Gen. Hammond told us in no uncertain terms that the alternative was two months dedicated to tri-daily sessions of intensive group therapy with McKenzie.
We are now motivated.
I was volunteered to call the captain to apologise for our petulant behaviour during her briefing and to ask if she was prepared to have us for the crossing after all. She was not fooled and asked what we had been threatened with that was worse than sailing. I confessed, and that made her laugh. I get the feeling we're not the first team she's dealt with.
She said she'd think about it.
We are going, then. A bunch of handbooks arrived and we are expected to study a bit before we come aboard, so we know that to set a square sail you haul on the sheets and let go of the buntlins and clewlins, unless it's the course in which case you also have to adjust the tacks, or unless it's upper topsail, topgallant or royal yard, which are moved upward along the mast by hauling on the halyards and the sheets only need adjusting.
The whole mechanism is far more technical than I'd supposed and in a way it'll be interesting to see it all work for real.
I have ordered an enormous amount of anti-motion sickness tablets.
The only one who seems pleased about the sailing is Teal'c, who actually smiled when he watched the little video about the ship.
I have to say it does look interesting, but the idea of going as a team does not appeal in the slightest. The colonel and Daniel have not spoken a civil word since the last mission and I try hard to keep myself out of it. Which is NOT easy when they do it every waking moment.
The Captain seemed nice enough though, if unable to hide her shock about our little 'team'. Wonder where they found her, since she's obviously at least partially security cleared.
Colonel went right into auto-annoy mode during the briefing and made some 'subtle' comments about the navy and women drivers. Except then we found out she's not navy – though I suspect she might have been once. Or let me put it like this; she seemed to have plenty of experience dealing with the reaction she got from the Colonel. It did nothing to endear him to her.
He's probably just pissed off that we'll be civilians out there and she'll still be captain.
PERSONAL JOURNAL OF TEAL'C
Oh!
I watched the video and studied the booklet, but I was not prepared for this.
We are in Norfolk, VA. The ship is anchored about half a mile offshore. Why? I have no idea. There's a perfectly good quayside available.
We were told to have a drink in the quayside café, but Teal'c is outside just staring at it. Okay, the ship is larger than I imagined, but for him I don't think he really understand what it would be until he first saw it. There's a tiny figure high up in the middle mast, and the binoculars show it's actually a human sitting there, painting or something.
On the flight here we all agreed that if there was no escaping this, we would make it as painless as possible. Am currently biting my tongue to stop myself saying something about the damn annoying way Daniel keeps SNIFFLING. He goes all ha-ha-ha and then DOESN'T sneeze. It drives me up the wall.
Well, truce. For now. I hope we can keep to it, because if we start fighting at sea I consider the captain perfectly capable of marooning us. She does not seem the type to suffer fools gladly.
I phoned in and she said to have a drink, the rib would be there in a moment. Wondered what a rib was until I saw it skimming over the waves toward us. Right, RIB. Rigid Inflatable Boat. Sam's looking a bit worried already. Must be terrible to get as seasick as she does.
Ah, and is it isn't the captain herself, looking a hundred times more at ease than during that briefing. Black hair back in a long braid, uniform blouse, one of those gas-capsule lifevests. Couldn't decide how old she was before, but it's definitely late forties.
Well, Teal'c has just made a friend, I think. I was a bit worried about how he would do – he tends to have a bit of trouble in social situations with people who don't know who he is. Guess you can't really blame people for thinking he doesn't like them or doesn't want to talk to them, but that is who he is
He just stood there while the RIB docked, caught the line for her, tied it, gave her a half-bow in greeting and then resumed staring at the ship.
"Lovely, isn't she?" says the captain.
"I do not understand why one would refer to a ship as a 'she'," he answered.
"Well, sailors are a superstitious lot. We ascribe them personalities, too."
He nodded. "I understand." His eyes went back to the ship, and there was something reverent in his tone. "I have never seen anything like to it."
Finished our drinks, got ordered to put on floatation vests despite the fact that we all swim well – they don't kid with safety here, that's clear. There's was a waterproof locker in the boat for our bags, but we got soaked by the spray. Reminded me a bit of biking in the rain though, the way the surface sped past.
From a distance the ship just looks impressive. From the RIB as we came up to it – no words.
Bags were hauled up onto deck and we climbed after them – not easy with the RIB and the ship moving out of sync. We met Thomas the bosun who showed us our quarters.
Hey, this looks okay. Apparently there are three watches of 16 each made up out of four teams of 4. We are team 1 of White Watch (the other watches are Red and Blue), thus we share a cabin – 4 lockers, 4 wallsockets and 4 'pipecots', which are, basically, two metal railings with a cloth slung between them, like a fixed hammock.
Thomas assured us they were comfortable. Consider us doubtful.
NO!
There is NO proper coffee on this ship. There is instant (blech!) but virtually everybody drinks tea anyway, so they're not bothered. I'm afraid I failed to act cool and poised – or even mature, really.
Captain says I can join the RIB as it sets out tomorrow morning to pick up the people who are spending the night ashore, as I've got about an hour then. She also says there is a reason there's no coffeemaker aboard, and that the cook will not spare his wrath if heavy swell sends the machine flying through the kitchen.
Good thing Sam usually carries a roll of McGyver-tape in her bag.
Met the cook – strange fellow. Scottish. The food was all good though, mushroom soup and pasta following it. Though the man who sat down to eat next to me assured us that the soup won't last once we set out. 'Too bumpy' was his explanation. He also advised always to set at the 'uphill' side of the table so you don't get your food in your lap if the ship rolls unexpectedly. I think we all looked faintly worried.
Nice guy though, Alistair. He's in our watch.
No coffee until tomorrow morning. Gah.
We have been quartered, given a tour and ate dinner in the mess. O'Neill and Daniel Jackson have not yelled at each other, which I find pleasing.
Captain Carter wagered me twenty dollars that within four days they would break their promise.
I said it was more likely to be two.
WHY THE FUCK CAN HE NOT STOP GOING ON ABOUT COFFEE!
Goddamnit, I really AM trying to keep my temper here and he is NOT HELPING!
Daniel drove us all insane with his whimpers about coffee and I was THIS close to chewing him out about it when someone walked past and put a cup of black liquid in front of Daniel.
"It's tea," our poor deprived archaeologist/linguist sniffled.
"It's caffeine," the man answered. "Drink it or not, but either way stop complaining."
We later learnt that this is the first officer, Sven. Teal'c, the Colonel and I took to him instantly.
After dinner we got some talks about setting and stowing sails, were made to practise the slippery clovehitch one-handed (it's a knack) and were briefed on the safety drills around here. They're pretty thorough, and actually some of it seemed a bit excessive to us. Then again, the ship currently is just bobbing about on anchor in the lee of a wavebreaker.
We got given oilskins – really nice suits of heavy weather gear actually, and they'd even arranged an XXXL set for Teal'c. Then the harnesses, which made the Colonel—JACK, must get used to civilian—snickering about dominatrix getup. He was set decidedly straight by the very strict instructions about putting it on and adjusting it correctly, and what could happen if one failed to do so. To quote: "If you fall overboard, the chances that we can get to you before you've drowned or died of hypothermia are extremely slim. The only way to make sure you make it is to be sure you do not fall overboard."
During the longer tour we got shown the bridge and it was there that we got the first hint of how things can be at sea. There's the wheel on a platform, and on its midpoint is a big bolt with a turning attachment.
We looked at each other, and Teal'c finally asked the question.
"For what is this device intended?"
"To clip your harness into during heavy weather, so the helmsman cannot fall away from the wheel."
Hum. Okay. That's a bit worrying. It got more so when we found similar bolts along the railing at regular intervals. Again Teal'c, asker of the questions we're all to freaked out to ask, inquired.
"Oh, the attachment points for the lifelines. If the weather gets unfriendly we rig up a system of lines you have to clip into so nobody gets washed overboard."
The horrified look we gave each other must have been clear, because Sven continued:
"Nothing like that predicted at the moment though."
Yeah. Right. SO not comforted.
We have evening watch (8-12) and because we're anchored that does not amount to much. Drank tea on the open bridge and the 2nd officer Lee explained the navigation systems to us. Carter had a happy over the one that went blink-blink-beep and geeked with Lee. No idea what about, my brain tuned out.
Clear sky, stars came out pretty. Lee said this was nothing and that I should see during a midnight watch when we're far out. Wish I had my telescope with me; it should be pretty good without the light pollution, though I suppose impossible to focus properly from a moving ship.
Daniel has stopped going on about coffee after some very severe looks from Sven and the captain, which suggested that being put overboard was a real option. He's going ashore tomorrow morning to find a coffee machine and bets are on about how many pounds of coffee he will bring back with him.
I wondered aloud about the reason we're anchored offshore and received some vague answers. Apparently this ship only ever docks in daytime to refuel and resupply; if at all possible it anchors some way out of shore for the night. The reason for this? Apparently the captain prefers it so.
Seems a lot of work for just a 'preference'. Must fish some more
In the morning we'll be instructed on climbing the mast and undoing the gaskets (whatever that may be) so that should be interesting. Good thing I'm not afraid of heights then
We're in our bunks now, all awake except for Carter, just kind of rehashing the day. Teal'c is really enjoying himself. I'm glad, because he has been very down the last few months, ever since he last saw his son.
Haven't yelled at Daniel (wow) and it's just occurred to me that we're actually having a vaguely normal conversation. That would be the first time since THAT mission. I'd better not focus on it or I'll scare it off and it will mutate into shouting again.