Going to a new planet is never going to get old, Daniel thought, as they first stepped out onto the beach. The archaeologist took a moment to soak it in. This place looked like a paradise. The island, at this distance, could be any tropical island back on Earth, clean ocean breeze, a thick jungle, and warm sand all around. Any Earth paradise if it weren't for the alien flowers he could practically smell from here.
Daniel hadn't thought about his allergies at all until now. Now he wished he had. He didn't have any antihistamine on him. XaXing hadn't managed to trigger them, which was strange and lucky when you thought about it. It should have considering the nature of the place, all those people and wares together, but he'd gotten off easy. Now Daniel was regretting his good luck, because he should've prepared on this front before coming down here. Maybe it would go away this time. Or it could just be a small attack.
Yeah right, he had as much chance there as he did arm wrestling a Jaffa. Even now he could feel the telltale tingling sensation in his sinuses. He could feel the urge to sneeze, just lurking.
The archaeologist looked around at the landing party, hoping to distract himself. They had to look as rag-tag as they came. Daniel had decided to go with what he knew, the no-nonsense green BDUS and tactical vest, a Beretta strapped (he hoped) discreetly to a thigh. The Doctor himself was in tweed, looking more like a college professor on a weekend outing. Back when he'd been with the rest of SG-1, they'd all matched more or less, which seemed to present a unified group, well-organized in front of the locals. He hoped they could do the same. It'd been awhile since he'd last worked with a bunch of other scientists in the field.
Daniel, in all his travels, had never, ever seen anyone quite like the Oryans. They looked majestic, tall, elegant, their skin and hair wonderful shades and shapes. The hair especially. Daniel studied the guards, found himself wondering absently at the construction and design of the helmets and comparing them to what he knew from Earth's various histories.
Definitely not human transplants. At least, not by the Goa'uld, and certainly not his Earth's time line. If not of human ancestry, then they were really that: 'aliens'. Mother Aveda stepped out just then. She stood out amongst the Oryans, shorter than the others, and he'd be willing to bet his hat that she wasn't one of them biologically. In terms of "in spirit", she she could very well have settled in as one of the people.
"Thank you, Mother," Daniel took her cue, mimicking her bow, but even lower in deference to her. There hadn't been that much material on these people to look at beforehand, so he was flying about as blind as usual right now, which meant keeping a sharp eye and, if anything, doing what everyone else did. "May Avani smile upon us and you." It seemed neutral enough. He waited a beat, a polite one, then motioned to himself. "I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson."
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Daniel hadn't thought about his allergies at all until now. Now he wished he had. He didn't have any antihistamine on him. XaXing hadn't managed to trigger them, which was strange and lucky when you thought about it. It should have considering the nature of the place, all those people and wares together, but he'd gotten off easy. Now Daniel was regretting his good luck, because he should've prepared on this front before coming down here. Maybe it would go away this time. Or it could just be a small attack.
Yeah right, he had as much chance there as he did arm wrestling a Jaffa. Even now he could feel the telltale tingling sensation in his sinuses. He could feel the urge to sneeze, just lurking.
The archaeologist looked around at the landing party, hoping to distract himself. They had to look as rag-tag as they came. Daniel had decided to go with what he knew, the no-nonsense green BDUS and tactical vest, a Beretta strapped (he hoped) discreetly to a thigh. The Doctor himself was in tweed, looking more like a college professor on a weekend outing. Back when he'd been with the rest of SG-1, they'd all matched more or less, which seemed to present a unified group, well-organized in front of the locals. He hoped they could do the same. It'd been awhile since he'd last worked with a bunch of other scientists in the field.
Daniel, in all his travels, had never, ever seen anyone quite like the Oryans. They looked majestic, tall, elegant, their skin and hair wonderful shades and shapes. The hair especially. Daniel studied the guards, found himself wondering absently at the construction and design of the helmets and comparing them to what he knew from Earth's various histories.
Definitely not human transplants. At least, not by the Goa'uld, and certainly not his Earth's time line. If not of human ancestry, then they were really that: 'aliens'. Mother Aveda stepped out just then. She stood out amongst the Oryans, shorter than the others, and he'd be willing to bet his hat that she wasn't one of them biologically. In terms of "in spirit", she she could very well have settled in as one of the people.
"Thank you, Mother," Daniel took her cue, mimicking her bow, but even lower in deference to her. There hadn't been that much material on these people to look at beforehand, so he was flying about as blind as usual right now, which meant keeping a sharp eye and, if anything, doing what everyone else did. "May Avani smile upon us and you." It seemed neutral enough. He waited a beat, a polite one, then motioned to himself. "I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson."