A word of a warning for my readers: There are some dark subjects touched upon in this story. For this reason, I'm giving it an R rating. I could probably get away with a PG-13 rating, but I'd rather not take that chance. As I said, the subject matter is rather dark, but then again, the idea of serial killers is a dark thing. So is torture. In no way whatsoever do I advocate these subjects. This is a story only!

Having been warned, this is your last chance to turn back. Otherwise, here is a story set in the Potential Universe. It's not necessary to have read any of the stories set in Potential, but it might help where the mentions of SG-1 come in. Chronologically, it takes place before Potential, and just after Ecolea's 'The Ninth Chevron'

A Ranger in New York
Back-story to the Potentials series by Texan - Prequel to In the Eyes of the Ranger
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New York City in the wintertime is not a pleasant experience. The howling wind could drive an exposed body into frostbite fairly quickly. But the cold temperatures mattered not to one particular man, who hunted in any weather in any terrain. He was here now, in the cold. He had left the desert of North Africa behind after the kills there. His chosen prey was an endangered species. But it made for good sport. More so since his prey rarely knew that it was prey. Even more so since his prey rarely knew it was an endangered species. But rare or not, endangered or not, it did not stop this man.

He had been born in 1920. His younger life was mostly unremarkable save for the fact that he had been found on the doorstep of a poor and destitute family that had barely scraped by in post World War I Germany. By the time he was twelve, he was living on the streets in Berlin, panhandling to earn enough money to eat. At nineteen, he joined the German army. He served in a tank battalion that led the charge into Poland on September 1st.

By 1942, he had risen in rank to that of Captain and had been transferred into the German SS. It was there that he met the man that would be his mentor for the next forty-odd years; Victor Krueger, otherwise known as the Kurgan. Krueger fed on the hate in the young man, and in return, he gave him the training he knew he would need to survive in this particular arena. Krueger was a higher ranking officer and the long standing policy had been for the higher ranks to mentor the most promising ones in the lesser ranks.

As interrogator specialists with the SS, they were assigned to a Jewish Concentration Camp, whose name was eventually lost to time. It was there that the Kurgan began experimenting with mind-altering drugs. He saw the Jews as even less that the Germans saw them. To him, all mortals were destined to be his slaves, to do with as he pleased.

The Kurgan was an Immortal.

Born sometime about a thousand years before the birth of Christ, along the shores of what is now the Caspian Sea, the Kurgan got his name from the tribe he was found by. They were a people that revelled in torture and cruelty. It is said that the Kurgans would throw children into pits with wild dogs so that the two might fight for food. This was considered a sport among their kind. The boy who would become the Kurgan became an Immortal when his father smashed his head in with a large rock for raping the tribal chief's wife and daughters. When the newly born Immortal awoke from his first death, he killed everyone in the village, adopting the name of his people as his own. His reputation spread far and wide and his skills as a mercenary were sought after by petty Kings and cruel Emperors throughout the world.

Her name was Gabrielle. An average looking young woman of perhaps twenty-five or so years. She was the type of woman that no one would look at twice. She had been an apprentice acolyte of the Kirche des Sammelns, or the Church of the Gathering. Her Lord and Master, Victor Folter, did not know that she had escaped until several hours after she had left the confines of his compound.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I'm calling from the Beaux des Lilles restaurant. A young woman just came in here. She looks like someone beat the living hell outta her. She's wearing a trench coat and nothing else. Can you send someone, please?"

"Yes sir. An officer is on the way sir."

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"Are you the manager?"

"Yes I am. Grigori Koltov, officers. The young woman I called about is back here in the office. I figured it best to move her there, so as not to scare our patrons."

"Any idea who she is, Mr. Koltov?"

"None whatsoever. She looks very scared though and she keeps muttering three words over and over."

"What might those words be?"

"She keeps saying 'Not A God', over and over."

"Right. Well let's have a look at her then."

The two officers in question took one look at her before one of them grabbed his radio unit and called for an ambulance. Whatever had happened to this poor woman, it had been a hellish experience. All they could see of her was her face, and the bottoms of her legs, but even those small areas of flesh were covered in bruises. The ambulance arrived within minutes, and she was taken to a nearby hospital. The officers followed to try and get a statement from her.

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Hospital

"I'm Detective Benson, Special Victims Unit. This is my partner, Detective Stabler. You called about a possible rape victim?"

"She's in with the docs now. She was in pretty bad shape when we found her Detective."

"Doc? What the hell happened to her?"

"Something very bad, Detectives. She's got relatively fresh bruises on top of older bruises that cover most of her body. All she was wearing when they brought her in was a trench coat and a pair of panties. Rape kit was positive for semen. Multiple donors, it looks like."

"Has she said anything?"

"She's fairly well traumatized. She keeps repeating 'Not a God', over and over. Whatever happened to her it was brutal."

"Thanks, Doc. We'll take the evidence over to the Crime Lab."

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Elsewhere

"My Lord, Acolyte Apprentice Gabrielle has escaped."

"What?! How could she have escaped?"

"I do not know this, my Master. She was in her bed after last night's festivities, but she did not appear with the others for breakfast. I sent an apprentice to seek her out and he returned with the news of her departure."

"Find her. Now!"

It had taken the senior Acolyte less than a day to find the missing Acolyte. Herr Folter had taken three of the stronger male Acolytes with him, to take the wayward apprentice back and to serve as witnesses for disappointing their God and Master. While the evidence was being processed in the Crime Lab, two of the Acolytes were taking Gabrielle from her hospital room. One of them had injected her with a mild sedative and so she put up little or no resistance to their forceful handling.

A few hours later, Gabrielle was on her knees, her ankles tied together, and her hands tied behind her back. She had been made to orally service the four men in the room as she was still in a rather pliable mood from the sedative. Herr Folter then pulled a gun from within his jacket and shot her at short range several times with a large calibre hand gun. But because she had been anchored to a rod set in the floor, so she did not fall over.

He waited, alongside the three senior Acolytes in the room, for her to awaken from her first death. He felt it as a distant tickle in the back of his mind, and he knew that she was coming awake.

"You see, my children. All that I have promised you is real! She awakes even now from her death! She could have served me eternally! Eventually, our Church will be all powerful and all the mere mortals will serve us. As Acolytes you will be the regional governors of my new Kingdom, but all of that is now lost for Gabrielle. She could have lived eternally at the side of one of you; now she will serve the Dark One in Hell!"

With that, Victor Folter pulled his massive broadsword from his coat and swung it in a massive arc that culminated with the separation of her head from her neck. A few seconds later, the immature Quickening within her escaped to hit Folter full on, but it was of so little power that it hardly fazed him. Then with a few more swift blows, he cut her legs and her arms from her body.

"There, my children. The proof that her eternal power was within her always. You will take this tale back to the others. You will tell them what happens to those who disobey the rules of the Church. Senior Acolyte Michael. I have a task for you. Take her legs, and tie them with this barbed wire to a post on the far eastern side of the city. Take her arms and do the same on the far western side of the city. Take her torso, and tie it to the middle span of a bridge over the river. Her head. Her head must be placed on a pike, in front of the hospital from where we rescued her. To serve as a warning that the mortals can not take one of my children from me!"

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Hospital
Some Hours Later

Police officers milled about the front of the hospital while a photographer from the crime lab took photos of the head. SVU detectives had been called in because it was their case originally. Now they were angry detectives. The woman who was as yet unidentified had been killed. Her head was on a stick in front of the hospital. Someone was sending a message, yet unless that person knew what the message was, it would go misunderstood.

As the two detectives approached the crime scene, they saw that a medical examiner was already taking an inventory of the body.

"Find anything Doc?"

"Whatever sort of weapon was used to remove the head, it was very sharp and it was done in one stroke."

"One stroke? You sure about that?"

"Not definitely, no. But there are no ragged tears of the skin at the incision area, nor are there any obvious hacking marks. I'd say the weapon was very sharp, and that the perp knew something about anatomy. The blade cut cleanly between the third and fourth vertebrae."

"Alright. When will you be able to give us more details?"

"A few days."

"Right."

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"Stabler, Benson, what did you find?"

"Just a head, Captain. You know, something about this strikes a cord. I think I remember seeing something about a perp out west leaving the heads of his victims on fence posts."

"Put out the basics on the wire. Maybe something will bite."

"Maybe."

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Fort Worth in winter time is a pleasant thing. There was a bit of wintry nip in the air, but not so any Yankee would notice. But to those of us native Texans, you could tell that old man winter had arrived, and with gusto. But of course, all of that was safely outside my office window and I was stuck in here finishing up the daily reports. It was a quiet day, crime-wise, in the metroplex. Of course, that was bound to change, now that I had finally gotten caught up with all the paperwork. And sure enough, here came that change.

"Cap, this just came in off the wire. Thought you might be interested."

"Thanks. Well, well, well. What do we have here? At it again, aren't you, you sonofabitch."

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Flashback
30 October 1986

It was just as the locals had reported it. A head mounted on a fence post. Ranger Sheridan had been given the case by his Captain and told to look in to what may well be a hoax. It was no hoax. It made his stomach turn at the sight of it. The road that this fence ran along side was rarely used as it ran to nowhere. Had it not been for a ranch hand riding the fence, looking for problems in the fence line, the head doubtless would have gone undiscovered until there was nothing but a few teeth. Instead, they'd gotten the whole thing mostly intact. There were no obvious tracks on the road, even though it had rained lightly the night before. That told him the head had been there for a few days, and the rain had washed away what little evidence there might have been.

The head was taken to the Harris county ME's office for examination, and Sheridan went to check in with the local Ranger station. A quick search of the missing person's database turned up no leads. Whoever the head belonged to, he didn't have anyone looking for him.

One fruitless interview followed another and by the end of the day, they'd gotten absolutely nowhere. The coroner was still trying to identify the victim through dental records, but that could take time. Time perhaps that they didn't have.

Time proved the Ranger correct in that respect. The phone call went first to the 911 operator in Houston. The response by local police was immediate and the call went up the line to the Texas Ranger assigned to the case. Ranger Sheridan drove to the location and found the Coroner's office hauling out more than a dozen body bags.

"Hey Davis."

"Ranger. Looks like we found the body that head on the post belonged to. Along with a dozen or so more."

"What is this place?"

"It was supposed to be one of those charity haunted houses for Halloween, but someone decided otherwise. The staff that showed up a couple hours ago for work came out screaming. Someone called 911 and the first officer on the scene lost his lunch. It's pretty gruesome in there, Ranger."

"Alright. I guess I gotta take a look eh?"

"I can't go in there again, Ranger. I already have too many images in my head I'd rather not have."

"Perfectly understandable, Lieutenant."

Sheridan got a powerful flashlight from his truck and went in to the building. Not all of the body parts had been removed yet. Arms and legs hanging from the rafters. Torsos nailed to the walls. And heads on sticks. A closer look at one of the sticks showed that it wasn't an average piece of wood. No. It was a pike. A head on a stick sent one message. A head on a pike sent a very different message. Sheridan shuddered and went back into the night air. For sure, he would have nightmares about this case.

End Flashback
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The person to whom the Ranger Captain was referring was a serial killer that he had first encountered fifteen years previously in Houston. The man had brutally killed twenty-three individuals, including one undercover police officer, followed some six years later by another mass killing in Washington State, before dropping off the scope. Now it looked like he had finally resurfaced, in New York City. He called and got an appointment with the Commandant who had an opening in the next few minutes.

"Captain Sheridan! A good day to you. How goes the desk job?"

"Boring and you know it, sir. But rank does have some privileges, don't it?"

"So they tell me, but I have yet to figure out what those might be. Have a seat Jake, and tell me what's on your mind?"

"Thanks Bill. This just came in off the wire."

"This sounds like that mutt from fifteen-odd years ago."

"Sure does. If it is, I'd like permission to go out to New York, sir."

"We can't take the chance, now can we? Your trip is approved. I'll call out ahead for you."

"Thank you sir. If it's him, I'll get the bastard. If not, I'll lend a hand anyways."

"See that you do. Luck to you Jake."

"Yes sir."

Jacob 'Jake' Sheridan had been a Ranger for almost sixteen years. In that time, he'd been something of a prodigy, making the rise to Captain in only ten years. The case in Houston had been among his first few cases, and it was still unsolved. Well, he'd only been a Ranger for sixteen years under his current incarnation. Being Immortal tended to futz up a good career.

He'd been in a Ranger company back before the States War and had joined up on the correct side. He'd been in most every major battle without so much as a scratch until the end of the war. A bullet fired from a Union soldier's repeater had felled him from his horse. He'd woken up sometime later to find a tall, lanky gentleman staring back at him. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it, and there was a decent sized hole in his shirt, but other than that, he was alive.

"Easy now soldier. You're safe for the moment. My name's Pierson. I'm a doctor and you're in my field hospital."

"Your...your uniform is blue."

"Yes, you're in a Union field hospital. You were brought in with the other wounded from the battle. Now, I've got good news and bad news for you."

"Give it to me straight, Doc."

"The bad news is that you were killed in the fighting yesterday. The bullet pierced your heart. I dare say you were dead before your body hit the ground. The good news is that you've made a miraculous recovery."

"Dead? If'n I was dead, then how come I'm speaking to y'all now?"

"You're Immortal. You can not die. Accept it."

"She-it, man, you don't pull any punches, do ya?"

"The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can begin learning what it takes to survive."

"Survive what?"

"The others of our kind that will eventually come for you."

The war had ended shortly thereafter, and Pierson had taken Sheridan under his tutelage and brought him into the Game with proper training. Jake had not had much in the way of a proper education before his becoming Immortal, but after five years under his mentor's strict lessons, he'd returned to Texas. He joined the Rangers again a few years after he'd returned to Texas, claiming that his father had been a Ranger before the war. And every forty years or so, he'd enlist with the Rangers, claiming to be the son of a Ranger that had been killed in the line of duty, or had died of natural causes. And so the Sheridan clan could lay claim to four generations of service to the Texas Rangers. Along the way, he'd taken one other teacher, recommended to him by Pierson, for more advanced training in the martial arts. It was that second teacher that he planned to see first upon his arrival in New York.

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He felt the buzz before he saw him. And then he saw him, and the smiles were wide and clear.

"Connor!"

"Jake!"

"It's good to see you old friend!"

"Likewise! What brings you to New York? Business? Or pleasure?"

"Business, I'm afraid. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't have time for the pleasure of friends!"

"What sort of business?"

"Chasing a criminal, Connor. A serial killer."

"Oh?"

"It's just rather odd, his modus operandi. He sets up a church of all things. Brings in runaways and street people. Gets them to believe in him, then kills them. Dismembers their bodies. He left a nice little calling card for us about fifteen years ago in Houston. He put the severed head of an undercover police office on a pike for us to find."

"A pike?"

"Aye. So far, he's got around five dozen murders under his belt, and quite possibly, another one here in the city."

"That kind of attention, if he's one of us, we do not need!"

"I agree with you, Connor."

"I'll check around, see if anyone knows anything. In the meantime, how about Chinese for supper?"

"Sounds good to me. Been a long time since I've had decent Chinese food."

Jake and Connor had walked quickly to the luggage carousel to retrieve the two bags that Jake had been forced to check. One had his clothes. The other one, his weapons. As a Texas Ranger, he carried his pistol in a holster under his arm, though the airline had been reticent about letting him board with a weapon, but seeing as how he was an officer of the law, they relented after a short while. Still, his second bag held the weapon he needed only for other Immortals. His sword.

"So Jake, you still have a penchant for old weapons?"

"Doesn't every Immortal have a penchant for old weapons? But yes, I do."

"There's an estate sale I was planning to go to in a couple of weeks. Apparently the owner of the estate was a collector of sorts and has, at least according to the brochure, an extensive collection of wartime weaponry."

"Which war?"

"Pretty much every war the US has been involved in since the Revolutionary War. As I said, an extensive collection. I had planned to go primarily for the silver, but perhaps also to pick up a few edged weapons. It's always nice to see a good example of what keeps us alive."

"I agree. And what with the dearth of good sword makers nowadays, I find it helps to obtain swords from previous eras. Hell, Connor, I'm still using the sabre the CSA gave to me back in the War for Southern Independence."

"So long as it serves you well, then you should have no complaints."

"This is true. So, Chinese?"

"Chinese."

The rest of the evening passed all too quickly and Jake still had to check in to his hotel. Connor would hear none of it and convinced Jake to stay at his place, as he had plenty of room. Early the next morning, Jake was dressing for his appointment with the NYPD. Steam pressed dark blue jeans with a knife-edge crease, shiny black Roper boots, a long sleeved shirt, of the style he wore during the States War but renewed today as a Cavalry bib shirt, an oilskin duster and his Stetson made the picture complete of a Texas Ranger. Of course, his badge and weapons helped clear up that picture.

Some years ago, Jake had gone to one of those 'attendance required' seminars to learn all about the new 'less-than-lethal' apprehension techniques. He'd gone home from the seminar with an idea about a new type of shotgun and six months later, he presented the first 'Sheridan Special' to his commandant. A tri-barrelled shotgun that could be reloaded quickly by a three-round speed loader type clip, like the kind of clip a revolver would take. He hand loaded the shotgun rounds himself, and so each tri-clip held a specific type of round, though if need be he could use off the shelf ammunition as well. One round was pepper gas, another was for taking down doors and was made of compressed powdered metal, while the last was a round loaded with 21 small rubber bullets. He carried five spare clips, four of which were the same as what was loaded in the gun, while the fifth had one armour piercing round, made to stop a truck, and two flechette rounds, each one loaded with fifteen sharpened steel darts that could shred anything in their path.

He wore the Sheridan Special strapped to his right leg, his not-so-standard issue Desert Eagle in fifty Action Express in the holster under his arm, and a back-up weapon at the small of his back. If he ever had the need to pull that weapon it would mean he was in serious trouble indeed. It was a three barrelled Derringer-type that he picked up at a gun show in Fort Worth. Two rounds of forty-five calibre and one four-ten shotgun round loaded with half a dozen sharpened steel flechettes as a last ditch effort to stop a perp. He caught a cab outside and went down to the Police Station where he would meet one Captain Cragen with whom he had an appointment for 9am.

"Good morning to you Sergeant. I wonder if you could direct me to Captain Cragen? I have an appointment for 9am."

"Yeah. Just a sec. What's your name?"

"Jacob Sheridan. Texas Ranger."

"Texas Ranger? Wow. Don't think I've ever met one of you! Follow me please."

The Sergeant led him down numerous hallways until they came to a rather average looking squad room. There were numerous detectives, or at least he thought they were detectives sitting at various desks performing the task that was the bane of every police officer everywhere; paperwork. The Sergeant pointed him at a closed door and then left. Sheridan knocked and then entered.

"Captain Donald Cragen?"

"Let me guess. You're the Texas Ranger the Commissioner said was coming to see me."

"Was it the blue jeans that gave me away?"

"Nope. Musta been the hat."

"Darn it. And here I was trying to look inconspicuous too. 'Morning Captain. I'm Jacob Sheridan, Texas Ranger, but you can call me Jake. Did your commissioner fill you in on the purpose of my visit?"

"He mentioned a case that we're working on, but maybe you can tell me more about it?"

"Who's the primary on the case?"

"Do they need to be in here?"

"It would help to go over this as few times as possible. The less graphic imagery in my head, the better."

"Ok. Stabler! Benson! My office, now!"

"What's going on Cap?"

"Detectives Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson. This is Captain Jacob Sheridan of the Texas Rangers. He has some information on the 'head' case."

"Nice to meetcha."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ranger."

"Likewise. First off, I need to ask y'all a few questions. Reason is I'm not entirely sure that the perp I'm after is the same mutt you're after. As I understand it, you found one victim, a female, mid-twenties. Signs of severe trauma, repeated beatings, and decapitation. Is that correct?"

"Correct so far."

"Did you, by chance, find any tattoos, any sort of religious markings or symbols?"

"Yes. One tattoo. Found on the inside of the upper leg. We haven't been able to identify the symbol though"

"May I see a photograph of that symbol?"

"Sure, here you go."

"As I suspected. KS. Inscribed in a triangle. You said her head was on a stick?"

"A pike actually."

"A pike you say? Yeah, your mutt sounds like the one I've been after for quite some years. KS stands for the Kirche des Sammelns, or the Church of the Gathering. It's a cult type church, for lack of a better way to describe them. The records I've managed to find say that they originated in Germany sometime during World War II. Only one time has any law enforcement agency managed to get someone in on the inside. That was in Houston in 1986. The officer in question thought he was infiltrating a drug operation masquerading as a cult. He paid for the truth with his life. The leader of this 'church' has been indicted in absentia in Texas on Murder One."

"So this leader fancies himself a 'Jim Jones'?"

"Worse. In that case, all of the cultists were enticed into drinking the cyanide, but Mr. Jones didn't behead or dismember his followers. We don't have any clue why this guy does. In all of the bodies found to date, in Texas, and in Washington, the victims all had their hearts shredded by a large caliber bullet shortly before their beheadings."

"If this is the same killer we're after, then he won't stop with just one victim, will he?"

"Afraid not Captain. You've got a serial killer on the loose with at least 58 victims under his belt. Add to that one police officer in Houston, and what you've got is a skilled killer. But before you go off and consult the FBI, let me just add that they've already tried to give us a profile, but can't. Sure what they gave us before worked for a bit, then wham! He goes off and changes his pattern. What's worse is that we have no idea how he chooses his victims or how he recruits them into his church.

"I've been on this guy's trail for fifteen solid years. I hope to be able to help you all catch him. I don't care if you claim the collar, all I want is to get him off the street."

"How do you know it's a male perp?"

"There is the strength factor at play here."

"Strength factor?"

"Detective Benson. How many female criminals or females in general do you know that can cut a head off in one stroke?"

"Not too many. I see your point. The head we found was taken off with one stroke. That implies a significant amount of strength and a very sharp weapon, either an axe or a sword."

"Great. All we need is another damned head-hunter."

"Another head-hunter, Cap?"

"It was summer of 1985, Elliot. I was young and dumb and in uniform riding patrol when some bodies turned up headless. The press called it a 'head-hunter'. A few weeks after it started, the detectives on that case caught a break with a live witness who gave a description. Shortly thereafter, another body turned up and its head matched the description. There were maybe five or six killings back then, and then they stopped. But all his victims were men. No women involved back then."

"And if the perp in that case turned up dead, and you never caught who killed him, well, I'm not sure that it would be the same guy. Did the detectives back then ever have a suspect?"

"They did Olivia. Some guy named Nash. Antiques dealer."

"Russell Nash? Russell Nash was a suspect?"

"You know him Ranger Sheridan?"

"Know him? I'm staying with him in town. He and I have been friends for what seems like forever. He was my instructor for advanced martial arts. My family has known his family for decades. I can't believe this. Nash, a suspect. Who woulda thunk it? I'll have some stuff to hold over his head at dinner tonight."

"Captain? Sorry to interrupt, but we've got another one. ConEd repair guys doing some light-pole maintenance found two arms tied with barbed wire to a pole."

"Benson, Stabler. Take the Ranger with you. Munch and Fin, go with them and help canvas the area. If this guy is the same one you're after Ranger, then he's a bona-fide serial killer. I'm gonna call the Chief and get us some help on this one. Ranger, since you're the most familiar with his methods, would you be willing to meet with our forensic psychiatrist to see if maybe he can do what others have failed to do; come up with a profile?"

"Sure thing, Captain Cragen."

"Get going. You've got a crime scene to investigate!"

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1942
German Occupied France

Major Kruger and Captain Folter were riding in the back of a staff car. They had orders to report to the commandant at Stalag 22, a POW camp where they would interrogate some American prisoners. The road they were on was a dark one, lined as it was on both sides by a forest. They were perhaps halfway to the camp when shots rang out. The driver took two hits, one in the chest and another in the face. Both officers dismounted from the vehicle, one from either side, only to find French Resistance fighters waiting for them. The Resistance fighters emptied their guns into the bodies of the officers and they fell in bloody heaps.

Folter was quite dead, having taken at least thirty shots at near point blank range in the chest. Kruger was also dead; the recipient of a dozen rounds from an American made Tommy-gun. But Kruger was an Immortal with some three millennia of life under his belt. The rounds knocked him down. They even killed him. But his Immortal energies revived him fairly quickly. Kruger stood up.

"French swine! Do you not realize it takes more to kill a God than your mortal weapons! Die!"

He made quick work of them, swinging his broadsword in bold arcs, lopping off arms and heads like a scythe through wheat. When all were dead, he knelt next to the body of his young protégée and waited for him to arise from his first death.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before Folter suddenly gasped for breath.

"Herr Major? You're alive? I swear I saw you die?"

"I did die. For that matter so did you. But as you can see the weapons these mere mortals carry can not harm us. We are Gods, you and I. We cannot die."

"How can this be, Herr Major?"

"No one knows why we are here, Herr Folter, just that we are. There are three things you must know Captain. Three laws that govern our kind. First, all of our battles are one on one. Second, you must never fight on Holy Ground. This is our only refuge from others of our kind. Last, you must fight all who challenge you. In the end, only one will claim the Prize."

"What prize, Herr Major?"

"Dominion over all mortal men for all eternity! Come now, my brother. I have much to teach you."

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Summer, 1985
Letter to Victor Folter

My brother. Hopefully all will go as planned this night. I believe I have finally deciphered that Arab's riddle. My first mentor was wise and strong, but when he turned his back to me, I took his head. Never turn your back on one of our kind, even one who you call friend, for surely they will not hesitate to take your head. Three thousand years I have roamed this planet, and yet the time of the Gathering grows no closer.

I have followers here; all of them pre-Immortals. Thirty-six, I believe, is the magic number. Tonight all of them will die. I have arranged a device which will cut their heads off simultaneously. It is my desire that this will trigger a gathering. If you receive this, then I have failed, and thirty six was not the magic number. Continue my work, my brother. I have trained you well. It is only just that since I have failed, that the Prize go to you.

Remember me.

Victor Kruger had completed his ritual and had shot each victim twice in the heart while they slept. None awoke to the silenced shots. He then slammed a dagger into the hearts of each one of them, so that they would not awaken from their first death until he decreed it. Each body was lowered into place along a specially built guillotine, that would sever nine heads at once, and he had built four such devices. As soon as his experiment was ready in all respects, he moved quickly about the room, pulling daggers from the chests of the dead. Kruger had made a square of each row of guillotines with himself at the centre. His children awoke now and found themselves bound to their spots on the floor. The look in their eyes was one of pure terror.

"The time has come Children. Tonight, I will feast on your souls!"

Kruger pulled on a rope which in turn released a counter weight that sent four long and sharp blades crashing down on their victims. Not all the heads hit the floor at once, but it was a close thing. All of a sudden, a white mist began to pour out of each body. The mist grew until it was as dense as a rain cloud. Lighting bolts formed in the centre of the cloud and struck out with anger at the upright target in the centre. Kruger was hit with round after round and bolt after bolt. The very air seemed to take on an electrical charge all its own. For some strange reason, only a few Immortals felt the pull of the Gathering, almost as if some unseen hand were directing their actions. Sunda Kastagir. Iman Fasil. Vasilich. Connor MacLeod.

The mini-Gathering ended just as quickly as it had begun, and at the end, Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, took the head of the Kurgan.

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Present
New York City

It was a warehouse district near the river where they found the body parts. Two arms had been tied to a light pole, with barbed wire of all things. But just the arms. Nothing else to indicate that this had once been the complete body of a twenty-something woman.

A few hours later, another police unit called in to Special Victims to say that they had found two legs, sans body, tied to a street lamp with barbed wire.

An hour after that, someone finally noticed a legless, armless, headless torso tied to the central support column of the Brooklyn Bridge. It too, had been tied there with barbed wire.

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Late Evening
NYPD Coroner's Office

"Heya Doc. Got all the parts?"

"You have a strange sense of humour Detective Munch."

"I've heard that one before, Doc. Anything yet?"

"CSU managed to pull a number of intact prints from her hospital room. After we eliminated the prints from the staff there, there were several unidentified ones until a few minutes ago. One set came back as a match for a Michael Kelly. The other one turned up in AFIS, but I'm doubtful of that one."

"Any particular reason Doc?"

"It matched to something in the Immigration records from the fifties. A man who entered the US who at the time was in his thirties. If he's still alive, he'd be in his eighties. No, I'm thinking that since the record is that old, that's it's a mistake."

"Probably."

"We did manage to pull one slug from her heart. Big thing too. IBIS shows it as a fifty caliber."

"I'm surprised there was anything left of her chest after a hit from that!"

"Me too, Munch."

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SVU Squad Room

"Elliot, here's the ME's report."

"Two prints and one usable slug?"

"Well, unless one of the perps is an eighty year old, I think it's only one print."

"Huh?"

"One of the prints CSU took from the hospital room came back as belonging to a German national that emigrated to the US in the early fifties. The Immigration form says he was thirty-two at the time."

"Any name on that print?"

"Damn! Ranger. You scared the bejeezus outta me. How'd you manage to sneak up on me like that?"

"Well, I'm a Texas Ranger now, but once upon a time I was an Army Ranger too. So, about that print?"

"According to Immigration, it belongs to a Dieter Eckhard."

"Hmmm. Hell of a name."

"How so, Ranger?"

"Look at the etymology of it."

"The what?"

"The etymology. It's a study of names and the origins of names. Dieter. It means 'Warrior of the People' in German. Eckhard. It means 'the hardy edge of the sword'."

"Hell of a hobby you got there, Ranger."

"It sometimes helps to know why a perp chooses a particular name. Course, in this case, that's neither here nor there."

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Elsewhere in NYC

Herr Folter was a man vexed by a problem. His first and only instructor had attempted to bring about the Gathering and had failed. But he had also partially succeeded. The Kurgan had sacrificed thirty six young Immortals and had drawn to him several older Immortals, but the release of that many Quickenings had not brought about the Gathering. Folter had taken twenty-two souls from his followers in Texas, and nothing had happened. He'd taken thirty-one souls in Washington, and nothing had happened. His master had taken thirty-six and had triggered a miniature Gathering. But his Master had lost his head at the end to MacLeod.

The Kurgan had once told him the tale of the Highlander, and his pursuit of him across the centuries. He had taken the Highlander's mentor and then his woman, but had missed the Highlander. Herr Kruger had blamed Ramirez for the scar that ran across his throat. A scar on any other part of the body would have long since vanished in an Immortal, but a cut across the throat was tantamount to a severed head, and such cuts did not heal well at all.

Folter hoped to cause a Gathering. He hoped to gain enough souls to feed him, to increase his strength. But more than that, he hoped and prayed to a God he no longer believed in, that at the end, it would be only himself and the Highlander who were left. Then he would take his head, avenge his mentor, and claim his rightful place as King over all mortals.

In his first life, he been a masterful interrogator for the Nazis. Though it could be said that they were of little vision , they did have some brilliant ideas when it came to disposing of mere mortals. Had der Fuhrer been an Immortal like himself, the Reich would not have fallen as it had. He had escaped the witch hunts after the war, when so many of his fellows had been tried at Nuremberg.

His computer 'dinged!' to let him know that an email had arrived. So many changes in the world in so short a time. Technological wonders never ceased to amaze him. It was from a source, a friend of his who worked for the local police, a man who fancied himself a Nazi. Folter snorted at the mere image of such a man trying to impress his fellow SS with his fervor. But what was this? The police had a lead? And they had help as well? Jacob Sheridan. Texas Ranger. This might prove to be a very good day indeed, despite the fact that young Gabrielle had been sent to serve the Dark One in Hell.

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Flashback
November 1986

Folter had so much wanted to be on hand when these stupid mortals came in to find the nice details he had added to that charity haunted house. But he settled for the series of discreet surveillance cameras he had left inside and outside the facility. They would never be noticed, even by the so-called detailed examinations of the local Police, and then in a few days, he would retrieve the cameras and their precious footage.

He had watched as the first workers arrived at the building, only to run out screaming. He had listened to the intercepted phone call, the desperate plea for help.

"911. What is your emergency?"

"Bodies. Oh my God. Bodies. Lots of them. Hurry! Please come quickly!"

He had watched as the first police officer arrived on the scene, responding to what was believed to be a prank for Halloween. He sat amused as the police officer entered the building and emerged after less than a minute, pale as a sheet of fine white linen, and puked his dinner in the gutter. He sat amused and laughing with dark glee as more cars arrived, screeching their arrival with strips of black rubber burned into the pavement. And he had watched as pick-up truck, of the type that was so prevalent in Texas, pulled up to the scene, and a man in a long greatcoat and cowboy hat exited the vehicle. A man he had later identified as a Texas Ranger.

End Flashback
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He had heard the legend of these Rangers. And perhaps, had the circumstances been different, he would have seen the man as an equal. The Texas Rangers were the elite of the state's police force. These were men who were fully dedicated to the pursuit of criminals and their deeds. Men who would stop at nothing to bring the evil to justice. Such a man was a soldier, defending the innocent from those who prey upon them. Folter had been a soldier once. In this Ranger he saw a kindred spirit. One, who though mortal, would have a chance at understanding him.

He'd seen him again, in the surveillance footage from his compound in Washington state. Perhaps the legends of these Rangers had more truth in them than falsehood? And now, here he was again. In New York City, trying to find Folter. Folter resolved at that moment to taunt the Ranger. To entice him to meet with him. It would certainly make for a better hunt than he'd had in decades. But how to do this? He would have to think on this subject.

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Next Day
SVU Squad Room

New York City had awoken to the fact of one more murder in its environs. But what was one more murder in a city that had so many of them? New Yorkers paid little attention to the story, for the moment buried in the local news section on page twelve of the local paper. For the detectives of the SVU, and for one Texas Ranger, it was business as usual. They would need to capture this man, this 'cult leader' before he could claim any more lives. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only case on their plates. At least not for the detectives of the Special Victims unit. For Sheridan, it was his only case. This was one case he wanted solved before he retired. That's what he was thinking on of late. Moving on. Perhaps another tour in the military after this life with the Rangers was over. Sixteen years he'd been with the Rangers, with time off in 1991, when his reserve unit had been activated for Desert Storm.

Folter was still thinking on a way to taunt the Ranger. He remembered something his mentor had once told him. Once upon a time, centuries ago, pre-Immortals had been hard to come by. The Kurgan had liked to take his time back then. Teaching them, training them to fight. But, Folter thought, in this new age, where a man could circumnavigate the globe in a day, his only goal for the moment, was the hunt. All the better if the target didn't know they were being hunted. He wondered for an idle moment, just how much of a challenge a Ranger could put up for him. He tended to go after newly born Immortals, especially ones he had created, but he might have to make an exception in this case. He wondered for a moment, if the Fates had decreed this challenge to him. One day, he would be powerful enough to avenge his teacher by taking the head of the elder MacLeod, and on that day, his life task would be over and the hunt would finally end.

Jake was unaware of the man and his thoughts. He was tagging along with Detectives Munch and Tutuola as they made the rounds of their Confidential Informants, but none had any information related to this new player in town.

As Jake made the rounds about town, Acolyte Michael came in to see his Master.

"Master. I have found a possible new apprentice for you."

"Yes? Tell me."

"She is above average in beauty. Twenty-four years of age. A graduate student of philosophy at the University. I met her in the library there. I engaged her in a philosophical discussion on the merits of the news of cloning as reported in the local papers last week. She proved to have a quick mind, and a sharp wit. And she bears the signature feeling you have told me to look for."

"Excellent! Bring her to me!"

"As you wish, my Master."

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The woman in question was again the library, studying for a finals examination she had the next day. She didn't know what had made her take the course in deviant psychology, but it had proved an interesting choice. Just now, she was reading a monograph by a brilliant psychologist that she had learned worked for the FBI. She wondered, not for the first time, whether she should follow in her adopted father's footsteps, or try for a spot at the FBI academy in Quantico.

"Hey there Meredith! Nice to see you again."

"Hi Michael. Studying for finals?"

"Nah. All done with mine. You?"

"Psyche exam tomorrow morning. Professor Luder has a fondness for a few FBI profilers, and I'm reading one of the assigned monographs."

"Could I interest you in a study break? Hot chocolate maybe?"

"You know, that sounds really good right about now. I'll leave my books here, but I'm taking my purse."

"Yeah. Ya can't be too careful nowadays."

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"Master."

"Acolyte Michael. What news of the young beauty?"

"She fell asleep in my vehicle after she drank the drugged chocolate. She awaits you in your chambers, my Lord."

"Let us go see our new prize then."

Unfortunately for her, Meredith was everything that Folter could want in a woman. Attractive and intelligent. It was also unfortunate that she wouldn't be missed for a few days. While true that she did grow up in the same city as her university, she happened to live in an apartment in the Village, well away from her parents' home in Westchester. The fact that she wouldn't show up for her final examinations over the next few days, and then would be late in her weekly call to her mother, would only inform the police of her disappearance a week after the event.

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One week later

One week with no new clues and no solid leads to follow. The one print they had for Michael Kelly had been a dead end. He'd been reportedly killed in a bar room brawl two years before, according to his former foster parents. The print for Eckhard had been even less fruitful, as the man in question had died shortly after his arrival in the United States.

The sergeant on duty at the front desk walked into the squad room with a package. It was addressed to 'the Texas Ranger'.

"Ranger Sheridan? Messenger dropped this package off a few minutes ago."

"Hmm? A package? But I wasn't expecting anything."

Jake and the two detectives had looked up at the mention of a package. The first hint of trouble came when Jake realized that there was no return address. The second came when he saw no postmarks of any kind.

"Anyone know how this got here?"

"Arrived by messenger about fifteen minutes ago."

"That explains the lack of a post mark. Doesn't however, explain the lack of a return address. Y'all might want to stand back for this one."

"Ranger?"

"If anyone sent me a package, it would be clearly marked. That there's none on this package makes me suspicious."

So saying, Jake reached into his duster and pulled out a small toolset. The first item was a small, paper thin, credit card sized scanner which was designed to detect any sort of electrical emissions from the package. None were present. Nor were there any electrical impulses of any kind either. That ruled out wires in the tape. Very carefully, he began to cut away at the brown paper wrapping the box.

All the time while Jake was examining the package, Captain Cragen, having been advised of the situation, had evacuated the area of personnel and had called for a bomb squad. He was surprised when he saw Jake scanning the box and then shaking his head and start to cut open the box. I have to get this man's file from the Rangers. First a detective and now it looks like he's got experience with bombs too. I wonder what else I should know about this man or risk a heart attack.

By now, Jake had removed the outer wrapper. The box was plain white with no obvious sign of a manufacturer. The box was not taped together and so Jake carefully pulled the top of the box off. Inside he found a note, a lock of hair, and a necklace, all of which he photographed before removal.

Hello Ranger. We've never met, you and I, but I feel as though I've known you all of my life. You and I, we could be brothers. We both take pleasure in the hunt. You hunt criminals, I hunt mortals. Though our prey may be different, we are alike. It should please you to know that HPD Officer Garcia died quickly and painlessly. He too was a soldier, though perhaps not as highly ranked as either you or I. The others, the insignificant insects whose souls I laid claim to, they are nothing, they mean nothing. But you. You I shall relish the thrill of the chase, the exquisite pleasures of the hunt. You are a subject worthy of my attentions.
There are still areas of this world of ours where there are no rules. You are an elite police officer. I am an elite hunter. You are my ultimate prey, and I am your ultimate predator. I kill for sport. I kill for pleasure. I kill to feast on the souls of my prey. Be honoured, Ranger, for I have chosen you for my next hunt.

This was so not good, thought Jake. Now the bastard was taunting him! And what's this? Under the note were two books. The first one was really a pamphlet. Nothing major, except the title. Handbook of the Kirche des Sammelns. The second book however, that one gave him cause to fear. 'Kazaks and Kurgans: A History of the Tribes of the Steppes.' Oh bloody hell. Someone who knew the Kurgan. Perhaps someone who worshipped the Kurgan. This was so not good at all.

"Ranger? You ok? You look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Huh? What? Ghost? Nah, I'm ok. Rat bastard knows I'm here. Knows I'm after him. He's taunting me."

"What else is in the box?"

"A lock of hair. And a necklace. The name on the necklace says 'Meredith'."

"Meredith?"

"Yep. Either a current 'follower' of his, or a past victim."

"Wonderful."

In the background, a phone rang. Jake could make out only one side of the conversation, but he knew it was not good.

"Cragen...yes sir...we are sir...of course, sir. We'll get on it right away sir."

"Listen up people! That was the Commissioner! He says his daughter called home and claims that she's been kidnapped. She kept saying 'Not a God', over and over before the line was cut off. Munch, take Fin and get any statements from any witnesses you can find. Captain Sheridan? Think you can help us out on this one?"

"It's him, sir. He's got her. But he's made a mistake. He taunted me. He wants to hunt me. I'm sorry, Captain Cragen, but your troops will have to work without me for a few hours. I have to follow up on this lead."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Take Benson with you. Stabler, you're with me. Let's go examine the crime scene."

"Sure thing Cap."

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"So...where to, Ranger?"

"Hudson Street. Nash Antiquities."

"The same Russell Nash that Captain Cragen was talking about when you first arrived?"

"The one and the same. He's something of a specialist in ancient tribes. He might be able to give me an insight into this nut's mind."

"Sure. Let's go then."

It was a good hour later that they pulled up to the antiques store owned by Russell Nash, what with traffic as bad as it normally is in Manhattan. He felt the brush of Connor's Quickening and hoped that Connor would not mind that he had brought a friend.

"Jake? Back so soon?"

"The case has taken a strange turn Russell. A turn that I hope you might be able to give some insight to."

"Jacob Sheridan! You're manners are atrocious! Now, while my friend picks his jaw up off the floor, allow me to introduce myself, since he saw fit to not do so. Russell Nash, at your service."

"Detective Olivia Benson, Special Victims Unit. I'm just going to look around while you two talk?"

"Feel free to do so. If you are interested, I have a collection of antique weapons on the second floor."

"Thanks, that might be fun to look at."

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"Tell me Jake, what brings you here so early?"

"I got a package at work a short while ago. There was a short note, taunting my ineptitude, and a book in the package. The writer of the note claims that he wants to hunt me to feed off my soul. The book was about the tribes of the Steppes, particularly the Kurgans."

"I had hoped to never hear that particular name again.

"Did that beast have any students?"

"I can't imagine that he would have left any of them alive, Jake. What else did the note say? What are you not telling me?"

"He wants to meet me, I think. There's a reference to a church, and a time. I think that I will go and meet him. At the very least, I can take him into custody and be rid of him."

"You have your sword with you?"

"Always, old friend."

"Watch your head. Speaking of swords, I got a call earlier from your first teacher. Seems he just got into town and wanted to stop by tonight for a drink. I told him you were here and he hoped to see you too. Very shortly, we'll be joined by another of our kind. Perhaps all of us together can help you catch this crazed killer?"

"We shall have to see if Adam is interested in helping, my friend."

"You'll have to see if who is interested in helping?"

"Detective Benson. You startled me. Russell was just telling me that a mutual friend of ours is coming into town for an estate sale, I had hoped to attend while I was here. Apparently there are a number of antique weapons included in this sale, and I had hoped to snare a few pieces for my collection. However I find myself short on cash, and I was hoping Russell here might help me with a loan."

"Oh. Well. Ok then. Was he able to help you with that gift you received?"

"Yes. About that Russell. You'll have to fill me in on what you know of the Kurgans."

"Not really my area of expertise, more Pierson's bailiwick than mine. He's due here in an hour or so, perhaps we could meet you later?"

"That'll work. I'll call you in a couple hours. We'll meet someplace for drinks. I've got a single malt whiskey you really should try. Damned smooth!"

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It was a pair of hours later and the crime scene had been thoroughly examined. No clues were present, but Jake already knew it was the Kurgan's student that had done this. All that he had heard about that beast of a man told him he was not one to take on a student. That he had done so did not bode well for the Commissioner's daughter, now in his custody.

It was a luxury building, the likes of which fairly reeked of money. The type of building a visiting cattle baron would buy, just for a weekend party. The builder had set up the floors so that only one apartment was to be had per floor, giving the residents ample space to do as they pleased. The fact that each apartment was completely soundproofed as well made it especially appealing to the man currently known as Victor Folter. The real Victor Folter had passed on some years ago, but all of his mail still went to the same place, and all of his credit cards were untouched and the credit lines secured by a bank vault filled with gold in Capetown.

The Kurgan had found him practicing his torture on the prisoners in his cells during the Second World War. He could scarcely remember what the critical information it was that he sought from the prisoners, but the fact that it gave him the opportunity to practice his technique was all that mattered. Whether his prisoners talked or not, whether they gave up important information or inconsequential information mattered not. What mattered was the dark art he practiced with ease. He had become an Immortal during the Second World War equivalent of a drive-by shooting. But already the Kurgan had been with him, and after his first death, the Kurgan had taken him on as a student, had trained him to stalk his prey and to kill efficiently and quickly. He had learned quickly and took to his gift like a duck to water. He knew that shy of losing his head, no death would be permanent. It was like a gift from the Gods of old. His Master was an old Immortal, and very wise in the ways of warfare.

But then he had left his pupil to his own devices. And the man now known as Victor Folter became a mercenary, hiring himself out to whatever petty government needed his special brand of skills, and for a few decades, it kept him in a lifestyle that he never had before his first death.

And now he was here in New York City, the very city where his Master lost his head. He was after the Highlander, and he would take his head when only he and the Highlander remained at the end of the Gathering. There was no pattern that Jake could see that drove the man. The man collected followers. And at some point in time, that only Folter could determine, he took the heads of his followers, feasting on their immature Quickenings, like a man might feast on a good steak. But this man, this killer, had made a mistake. He had taken the adopted offspring of someone that could pull all of the resources of the New York Police Department to bear.

Elsewhere in the city, Victor watched his latest 'guest' with growing anticipation. She was a pretty young woman, full of life, and at the moment, full of fear. She was twenty-four years of age. In the time before his first death, she would have been married by now and she was certainly of child bearing age. Yes, by the time he and his senior Acolytes were done with her, she'd have experienced every form torture he had ever developed, and none would give her any pleasure. For this was not about her, but solely about his pleasure.

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8:00PM
Cathedral of St. Patrick

The Church was mostly empty at this late hour, but there were a few people here and there in the pews, silently praying to the God they believed in. Truthfully, Jake had never really been a church going sort of man, even before his first death. He didn't believe in God per se, but he did believe that there was a higher power at play in the universe. A power with an oft-times odd sense of humour.

The feeling of another Immortal hit him suddenly and he wondered who else could be in this Church. The he saw a man coming up to him. He sat down in one of the rear most pews, and the man took a seat in front of him.

"Ranger Sheridan. At last we meet. I had not thought you to be like me. In truth, I saw you as a potential adversary, a soldier like myself. But here we meet at last and you are more like me than I had imagined. The same eternal power that flows through me, flows through you as well. This shall be a most enjoyable hunt!"

"Who was the Kurgan to you? Why did you send me that book?"

"The Kurgan? He was my teacher. He was the one that taught me the ways of our kind. Do you have any affairs you need to tend to before we begin our hunt?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I do."

"Then I shall be considerate of that fact. You had not thought me to be one of us, and perhaps you are not as prepared as you would like to be. Tomorrow evening, this same time, at the Arsenal in Central Park. We shall begin there."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why do I want to hunt you?"

"No, you sick fuck, why do you take their heads? Why so many at once?"

"Ah, that. It is so simple, you will hurt yourself for not realizing it sooner. My Master, the Kurgan, claimed it was a method taught to him by an old Arab Immortal, who in turn claimed to have learned the technique from the Great and Powerful Methos before that same Arab took the head of Methos. The exact number of simultaneous Quickenings has been lost to time, but a certain number of simultaneous Quickenings will bring about the Gathering.

"My Master almost succeeded once. In 1985, he caused the simultaneous beheading of thirty six of our kind, and caused several of our kind to come to this place. I have failed enough times that with my next attempt, I know I will succeed. But first, I will take your head. Then I will trigger the Gathering. Then I will win my matches and make sure that the Highlander wins his. In the end, when just he and I are left, I will take his head, avenging my Master, and taking the prize for myself."

"Fine. Tomorrow then. On one condition however."

"State your terms then."

"If I win, and before I take your head, you will tell me where your followers are."

"And if I win, Ranger?"

"Can't help you there."

"Very well. Your condition is acceptable. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night I will hunt you and you will die. Enjoy your final night on this dreary little world."

Jake looked at his watch and realized he was supposed to have met Connor some twenty minutes previously. He made his departure and arrived ten minutes later at a cop bar frequented by the detectives assigned to the Special Victims Unit.

He could feel the rather large disjointed Quickening from just outside the bar. As he got closer to the entrance, the sensation he felt resolved itself into two distinct Quickenings. Behind him, Benson and Stabler were quickly approaching. Jake hoped that it had nothing to do with the case. After the day he'd had, what he wanted most was a good stiff drink and the company of friends, though not necessarily in that order.

"Detectives Benson and Stabler. Please tell me you're just here for a drink and not to drag me off to a crime scene?"

"Relax, Ranger. Just here for a drink. But the Cap says he wants to see you bright an early in his office tomorrow, so don't overdo it tonight."

"My limit is three. Ah, I see my friends now. If you'll excuse me?"

"Sure. See you in the morning."

"Likewise."

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"Connor! Adam!"

"Jake! Sit down, take a load off."

"Connor, I did say I would introduce you to a new brand of whiskey. This bar doesn't stock it, but that's their loss. So I stopped earlier today and picked up a bottle of twelve year old whiskey. Try it. And give me your honest opinion."

"Pour away, Jake."

Jake kept the bottle well hidden, but still managed to pour out three good stiff shots for his friends. Well, two for his friends and one for himself. He had been introduced to Laphroiag whiskey by a retired Ranger a few years before and had drunk nothing else since then. He had tried other Scottish whiskeys but always came back to this one as its taste was an excellent combination of smoky smoothness and fine wheat. One could almost taste the age of the oaken barrels used in the fermentation process. It was uniquely bold and it went well with his very unique friends.

"Jake. I've had many Scottish whiskeys in my time, from home brews to mass produced bottles, but this is, well, there's no word I can use to properly describe its wondrous flavour. Tell me the brand! I simply must buy a few cases!"

"Laphroiag. Occasionally I'll come across a bottle or two of forty year Laphroiag, but that's a rare occurrence. The forty year is even better."

"Well then, with such a fine whiskey, let me make a toast. To a long and good life!"

"Long life! You always were a man of few words, Connor. But a fine teacher you were as well. And now, old friend, have you any thoughts for me on what we discussed this afternoon?"

"Ah yes. The Kurgan."

At the mention of that name, Adam's eyes went wide.

"The Kurgans were a tribe of peoples from the steppes of what is now Russia. It is said that they would throw young children into pits with wild dogs to fight for scraps of food. They considered it a game of sport. The Kurgan is said to have been the only child to ever survive in the pits for more than a year. He was trained to be a brutal and precise killer. He showed no mercy to his opponents. If he had a student, I'm sure he would have given him the same type of training as he himself received."

"Why the sudden interest in the Kurgan, Jake? I'm mean, we're all very grateful that Connor managed to take his head, but that's just it. His head is gone and he's out of the Game. Permanently."

"Would you believe I met a student of his, not more than an hour ago? He did not know that I am long lived. Just like him. According to him, it makes us brothers of a sort. I guess, after a fashion, we are brothers, inasmuch as all Immortals are probably related. He challenged me. I have decided to accept the challenge. Tomorrow at 8pm at the Arsenal in Central Park."

"Did he say why he was collecting followers? Why he was taking their heads?"

"He claimed that he was following instructions his teacher, the Kurgan, obtained from some now dead Arab Immortal, who in turn claimed to have gotten the information from Methos, before taking his head."

"The Arab claimed to have taken Methos' head? Or did this young upstart make that claim?"

"This person claimed that it was the Arab that took the head of Methos. Do you know anything about these legends?"

"Can't say that I do laddie. Are you going to meet him? Are you going to allow him to hunt you?"

"Yes. And while he might consider himself a great hunter, I will prove him an idiot when I take his head."

"Do you need anything from us?"

"I wish there was some way to empty the Park of mortals, but I will do what is necessary."

"Well and good. Let us move this party to more private surroundings, Connor. Jacob, your two police friends are still at the bar. It may be beneficial to us to have some help from the Police if we are to clear the Park. Tell them whatever you need to tell them, but remember, our secret must be kept."

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go and get them. Your place in half an hour, Connor?"

"Aye. Sounds good."

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"Detective Benson. Good. You're still here. I've just been given an excellent idea on the case, and I'd like to run it past you and your partner, and Captain Cragen, if you can find him in the next few minutes."

"I'll find him, Liv. You gonna brief us now or when we're all here?"

"When Cragen joins us. But not here. Have him meet us at Nash Antiquities on Hudson Street. All will be explained there. Under more private circumstances."

"I'll tell him."

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Forty-five minutes later, Hudson Street, Nash Antiquities

"Connor, friends. I'd like you to meet three of the local law enforcement folks I've been working with since my arrival here in the city. Captain Donald Cragen, Detective Olivia Benson, and Detective Elliot Stabler. The quiet one staring out the window is Adam Pierson. Our host, is Connor MacLeod. And I, of course, am Jake Sheridan.

"I've asked you three to be here because there is something you need to know, and hopefully something you can help me with."

"We're all ears, Ranger."

"In a few minutes, you might be very angry too. A few hours ago, I met with our perp. In a church. He wasn't there to confess his sins, and I sure as hell ain't no priest. I didn't tell you everything that was in that note. He wants to hunt me. He sees me as the ultimate prey. Well, I'm gonna let him do just that. Only, he's gonna find out I ain't that easy to kill."

"Are you nuts?!"

"Certifiable, I'd guess. What I need from you is the complete isolation of Central Park, beginning at six pm tomorrow night, and lasting till probably ten am the next morning. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. Will the NYPD do that?"

"We're going to need some kind of proof, Ranger."

"If I win, that is if the predator becomes the prey, then he'll come in quietly and tell where all of his followers are. If I lose, well, I'm counting on either MacLeod or Pierson to avenge me."

"Now why would we want to let you do something stupid like that?"

"Before I go any further, I must extract a promise from you three. You must swear by everything you believe in that what I am about to tell you, you will take with you to your graves. No one can ever know this secret. Do you swear it?"

"I think you're nuts, but I'll swear it."

"Ditto."

"Same here."

"Ask anyone on the street, the common man, and you'll get a multitude of answers for my next question: Are we alone? Alone, you ask? Alone on this world or alone in the universe. For the latter, I can not answer, but for the former, this I can answer. We have existed since the dawn of time. We have walked along side the mortals of this world, in their passage through the centuries. We have battled from the beginning to win the ultimate prize. It is a fight of good and evil, light and dark, black and white, positive and negative. Call it what you will. The fact remains that we are here, now, and we are on your side."

"What in God's name are you talking about Ranger?"

"I was born Jacob Jeremiah Sheridan, though I have not used my middle name is a very long time. I was born in a small town outside of Austin, in what is now central Texas. That was in 1830. I am of a people that call ourselves Immortals. We have always been here."

"By the standards of my race, I'm young. I was a mere thirty-five when I met my first death in 1865. Connor is a bit older having been born in Scotland in the very early 1500's. Adam, well, I don't know his true age, but I do know that he's far older than any of us in this room. If you fail to believe our story this night, then you will lose access to the one resource that can bring this killer to justice. For you see, the killer is like us. He is an Immortal. The only justice an Immortal understands is meted out by the sword. It is the only way to be sure that he will never kill again."

The skies outside the Hudson Street building suddenly seemed to crackle with electrical energy as a storm of lightning flashed all around. The very air seemed to glow with the power of a very ancient Quickening. Then just as suddenly as the sky had lit up, it became peaceful once more.

All eyes in Connor MacLeod's loft shifted to stare at Adam Pierson standing near the window as he surreptitiously lowered his arm. "I am known to my close friends, not as Adam Pierson, but as Methos. As to my age, I was never certain until just recently. But to give you a clue, I witnessed the building of the Pyramids. For a thousand years, I was known by my Biblical title. You know which one. He who rides a Pale Horse and He who was given power to take life over a fourth of the world. The legends of the Four Horsemen are based on fact. For over a thousand years we ranged across this world, taking what we wanted and killing all who stood in our way. The Horseman has been unseated and He will never ride again, but I urge you to take what I know and use it. This man you seek, this student of the Kurgan. If he is anything like his Master, then he will not be stopped easily. It will take the combined skills of all in the room to bring him to Immortal justice."

Benson looked at Stabler and then at her Captain. All three were thinking the same thing. The quickest way to get to a phone to call for several men with funny white jackets. Three funny white jackets to be exact.

"If you believe yourselves to be Immortal or some strange form of reincarnations, then maybe we should be having this meeting at Bellevue?"

"Why is it that no one ever believes what we tell them, Connor? Why must we repeatedly put on a demonstration that will shock these mortals to their cores? But, as I am the youngest here, perhaps you would care to do the honours?"

Connor nodded and pulled a small handgun from an ornate box behind the couch on which he was seated. The pistol had a silencer screwed on to the end of the barrel. He took quick aim and pulled the trigger in a classic double tap. One round entered Jake's forehead, right between the eyes, while the second entered his chest, right above Jake's heart. The entire event happened so quickly, that none of the three police officers was able to pull their service pistols in time to prevent anything. Detective Benson rushed to where Ranger Sheridan had fallen and felt for a pulse but found none. Detective Stabler and Captain Cragen pulled their weapons. One of them held his gun on Connor while the other kept Adam in his sights. This situation had gone from merely strange to completely insane.

"What the hell did you do that for? You shot him twice! He's dead! And I thought he was your friend?!"

"Take it easy Detective Benson. Give him a moment or two. Head wounds always take the longest to heal."

"Are you out of your mind, Nash? No one can recover from a point blank shot to the head with a forty-five!"

They argued back and forth for a few more seconds, but it was Elliot Stabler that noticed the arcing electricity first.

"What in the hell?"

At his utterance, Olivia Benson looked down at the man she had called a friend for the last week. Small arcs of electricity were dancing across his wounds. The entrance holes were closing up and it almost seemed as if the blood that had leaked out was being sucked back into the body. She had seen a lot of strange things as a police officer, but this was something altogether different. It seemed as if the world had stopped breathing, but it was her, actually. As Jake Sheridan took a breath, she realized she was inexplicably holding her own. His first words amused her for a reason she couldn't yet answer.

"Uhm, did I miss anything important? Captain? Detectives? Why are you holding your weapons on my friends?"

"He shot you! I saw it! You were dead! I don't understand?"

"As I stated a few moments ago, the three of us here are Immortals. Something as mundane as a bullet to the brain or the heart won't kill us."

"The head-hunter in '85?"

"He was one of us Captain Cragen. A vicious brute of a man known only as the Kurgan. He wanted the Prize. I made sure he didn't get it."

"Then the other headless bodies were all of Immortals? Is that how you die?"

"We'd rather that little bit of information were kept to yourselves. But yes. That is how we can be killed. Only an Immortal can take the life of another Immortal. Now that we've gotten this little bit of melodrama out of the way, perhaps you'd care to listen to our plan now?"

"I think I need a drink."

"Connor, pour us all a stiff drink, would you? Then, I think, coffee will be in order. I've a feeling this will be a long night."

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The next day dawned bright and clear, but the forecast was for dark, snow filled clouds by early afternoon, and at least a foot of it by midnight. Cragen had called in favours left and right, but by eighteen hundred that evening, the park was mostly empty. And quiet. Jacob sat on a park bench, watching the first snow flakes fall to the ground. The memories were particularly deep and violent, and they came at him hard and fast.

It was the scene around him that triggered this memory. In 1944, he'd made the landing at Normandy, then marched inland with the 2nd Ranger battalion to the forests of the Ardennes. The quietness of the forests, bathed in a heavy covering of snow; it brought back memories that Jacob would just as soon forget. He heard a crunching behind him, and was up from the bench seat in less than a second, with his sword drawn and at the ready a second later.

"You are early, Ranger. Are you so eager to meet your death?"

"By my watch I still have an hour. So, perhaps you would indulge my curiosity a bit?"

"I see nothing wrong with that request. Come, let us sit and talk. Soon enough it will be time for the hunt."

The two men walked over to a nearby table and sat down opposite one another. Jacob reached down into his pack and pulled a thermos and two metal cups, pouring out a coffee for each of them.

"So, your questions?"

"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Jacob Sheridan. Born in Texas in 1830. I met my first death in 1865, at the hands of a bullet fired by some Union rifle. I have been here ever since."

"I am Victor Folter, formerly a Major in the SS. I was born in a small hamlet in what for a time was Eastern Germany in 1920. I joined the German military as soon as I was able, serving with a Panzer division until I caught the notice of the SS. I met my first death in 1942, at the hands of a group of French Resistance fighters. I was fortunate in that the other man killed along side me that day in '42 was the man you knew of as the Kurgan. He had already identified my potential, and he awaited my first awakening from death. He took me as a pupil and he taught me all that I needed to know about the Game and the Prize. Frankly, I look forward to winning the Prize. I can think of no better situation for one of our kind, than to rule over these insignificant insects that call themselves mortal men."

"I see. So, you're less than a century?"

"Yes. Do you now wish to know more about the Kirche des Sammelns?"

"Sure."

Jacob was wearing a wire. It was so small and unobtrusive that it felt like he wasn't, but he was. Adam Pierson had disappeared for some thirty minutes after their little show-and-tell the night before, and then had disappeared again early this morning only to show up at Nash Antiquities with a few boxes of equipment. To Jacob, the equipment appeared very cutting edge, almost military in nature. Pierson handed out three radio sets, so that the three Immortals would always be in contact with one another. At the moment, Jake's set was in his day pack by his feet. From one box, Adam had extracted the most beautiful sniper rifle Jake had ever seen. He promised Jake that he would be watching over him the entire time, but from a distance.
Now, as they heard the description of the premise of the 'church' broadcast over the encrypted radio link, Adam turned to a different source for information.

"Dad? Are you around?"

"I am here Methos. I have no plans of abandoning you anymore my son."

"That's good to know. I have a question."

"You wish to know if what this Folter claims is true?"

"Eavesdropping, Dad?"

"I make it my business to know what happens to you. I admit to listening in on the conversation, both now and last night. Must you children always use so violent a method for proving your Immortality?"

"It usually works the best. So, is what he claims true?"

"There is no truth to the Game or the Prize, however, there is some truth in the methodology. A Gathering can be triggered by the release of a very powerful Quickening. What his mentor, this Kurgan, attempted some years ago, I was able to dampen somewhat. Even then, some of the energies leaked through, and some went to their untimely deaths. You are fortunate that Connor MacLeod was able to stop that Kurgan. But yes, the release of a very powerful Quickening, or the release of several dozen small Quickenings, if done at all once, could potentially trigger a Gathering. It was something that we overlooked in our early experiments. I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more help, my son."

"Not your fault, Dad. Thanks for being here."

"Always, my son."

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Central Park

"And that is my story. Enlightening isn't it?"

"Well, except for one small detail."

"Oh? And what detail might that be?"

"You say the Kurgan claimed to have taken an Arab Immortal's head, the one who told him of this Gathering trigger?"

"Yes."

"And that the Arab in question had gotten this information from Methos, before taking Methos' head?"

"Again, yes."

"Considering that Methos was the first Immortal who found me, who trained me, well, I sincerely doubt that that old Arab was telling the truth."

"Perhaps it is more a question of the man who taught you telling a few lies?"

"Ok. I'll grant you that one. So, any rules for the hunt?"

"We will begin promptly at eight o'clock. To be fair and sporting, I will give you thirty minutes head start. Neither you nor I can leave the confines of the Park. If you leave the Park, this will violate the Hunt, and I will immediately order the execution of my followers. If I leave, you may have your officers around the Park immediately arrest me and I will turn over the location of the 'Church'. Next, I will not be using a traditional gun. This is a paint ball gun. If I manage to hit you ten times, centre mass, then the hunt is over and I will give you one hour to rest before the Challenge. If you manage to elude me until sunrise, then you will also get one hour to rest for the Challenge."

"Do I get one of those guns too?"

"Mine is, you understand, fully automatic. Yours however, is not. It is a pump action shotgun type, with an 18 round magazine. Here are five spare magazines for you, just in case. Same rules apply to me as to you."

"Have you picked a spot for our duel?"

"Indeed. There is a fairly large reservoir in the Park. At the approximate centre, I have a platform which some of my Acolytes are taking there as we speak. It is one hundred feet, by one hundred feet, with a low railing about the edge. I have instructed them to leave two rowboats, one on either side of the reservoir. Use one to get to the platform after sunrise. I will grant you your hour's rest after your arrival at the platform."

"Sounds fair. Hell of a lot more fair than some of the warfare I've seen."

"So you have a been a soldier yes?"

"I have, Herr Folter."

"Were you, by chance, in that little fracas with the Reich?"

"Been there. Done that. The t-shirt I got is way too bloody to wear in public."

"Ach, such a sense of humour! I love it! Perhaps we met each other in combat across the fields of Germany and France, and didn't know it?"

"I suppose there may have been opportunities. I was with the 2nd Ranger Battalion. Made landings in North Africa, then Normandy. Fought my way inward with the Rangers. The biggest battle I remember was at Ardennes."

"I too, was at Ardennes. By the that point in the war, the German military needed not so many interrogators as trained tank commanders. I had a small detachment of SS Panzers in that battle."

"Did you learn anything from that war, Herr Folter?"

"Yes. Warfare is not for the weak. It is something best left to those who are most able. It would have been better, I think, had only Immortals fought in that war and in all the wars since. In that way, I believe, the vast majority of the peoples we fought for would have been spared what we would see in any case. Our race is unique. A true Master race as decreed by Mother Nature herself. We are born to warfare, you and I. From the very beginning of our race, we have waged combat against one another."

"All for some mythical Prize. There are times that I would gladly trade my Immortality for the chance to live a normal life, perhaps raise a family. Mind you, I like my abilities, but just once, I would like to raise a son or daughter that is actually mine."

"It is a hard life we lead. Always fighting. Never having a chance to procreate. Yet somehow, there are more of us born today than there were even fifty years ago. It is a mystery I would have liked to explore eventually."

"You could always just give yourself up, Victor."

"I could no more give up, as it were, than you could turn to a life of crime, Ranger."

"I think you're right on that one."

"It is now eight o'clock and some seconds. Your thirty minutes begin now. I would wish you luck, but I'm not sure I'm that sporting."

"Same here. Good-bye, Herr Folter."

"Guten tag, Herr Sheridan."

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Outside Central Park, the Police had formed a strong perimeter. The citizens of New York had protested somewhat at their not being allowed use of the Park, and a few had called the local media, who were now there in force. All along the periphery of the Park, there were blinking red and blue lights, and men in uniform with guns keeping the public out.

When Methos and Connor had heard of the planned final destination of the Hunt, both had made their way there separately. Methos had found a nice building from which to conduct an over watch mission, while Connor put on a set of insulated Scuba gear to check out the platform and make sure there were no traps waiting for his friend.

Earlier that day, Jake had moved around the Park with a detailed topographical map, marking out locations, and examining said locations as possible temporary rest sites. Some years ago, he had learned of the hobby sport of geo-caching. Now, this extra knowledge of his went into action as he created six small caches. Into these he placed extra gear that could come in handy, along with dry socks and small warming packets. In each, he left a packet of strong coffee, two small bottles of water, and some a packet of trioxane, with which to heat the water for his coffee.

It was cold outside, bitterly cold with a strong wind. He estimated the wind chill at just above zero. Thirty minutes. That was what he had to get to a secluded spot to change gear. He'd picked the spot earlier. He'd walked through most of the Park with Detective Benson, for whom he felt an attraction.

"So why are you doing this? Why not leave it to the NYPD?"

"He's an Immortal. He's our perp. In any other case, I'd treat him just like any other criminal, but he is one of my race. Justice may be blind, but Immortal justice is a whole other can of worms. How do you sentence someone to life in prison knowing that this particular type of sentence could mean a literal eternity behind bars? Or better yet, sentence an Immortal to death. For us, anything shy of the guillotine is not a death sentence. What happens when you electrocute an Immortal? Not a damn thing. Our heart stops for a minute or so, then we're right back to life. How does the mortal justice system account for that? No, Immortal justice might seem harsh to a mortal, but it is the only thing that will guarantee that this particular criminal will never harm another being ever again."

"You said last night that you were born in 1830."

"I was. My father, well, I know he wasn't really my father, but he told me once that he and my mother had found me on their doorstep during a particularly violent storm. There was no note or any sort of identification on me. He told me that he and his wife had prayed long and hard for God to grant them a child. Needless to say, they didn't turn me away."

"So, you were what, a foundling?"

"All Immortals are foundlings. We don't know where we come from, just that we exist."

"Ok. But since all of you start out as normal babies, then surely some of you would remember having children?"

"That's the thing, isn't it? I'm sure that most would think that, but the thing is, all of us are sterile. We can't have children of our own. In my short life, I've been married four times. I've raised a number of children that I adopted."

"Only four wives?"

"I outlived them all. It's the hardest thing we have to face in our eternal lives; outliving a loved one."

"Tell me about them?"

"Ok. The first I met after the Battle of Murfreesboro, in Tennessee. I was with the 14th Texas Cavalry under General Ector. Somehow or other I got separated from my unit. I'd taken a bunch of fragments in my back. The wounds weren't fatal and so I didn't die and my Immortality didn't come to the fore. For some reason or other, every Immortal I've ever met tells of a violent death that preceded their Immortality. So, I got separated and ended up far from the battle site. It was snowing pretty heavily, and I was pretty much just hanging on to my horse. I had blood in my eyes, and blood all down my back, but I wasn't dead.

"Marissa found me in the snow. She told me later that my horse had wandered up to her door, and that she'd seen the saddle and the blood, and followed the horse's prints up to where I was. She nursed me back to health, and I helped her where I could. It wasn't like we were married by a priest or something like that, but she had lived there with her father and brothers before they'd gone off to the war. They died at Chancellorsville. She had no one left."

"The Nightingale effect, eh? I mean, she nursed you back to health, and you fell in love with her."

"Didn't realize that had a name till now. But yeah, that's pretty much how it happened. When spring came, I left her. I went back to my unit. When the war ended, I went back there, but the house had burned to the ground, and there was a small grave; unmarked. I assumed that was her and that someone else had buried her. But it wasn't. I must have stood there for a few hours, making my peace with a God I didn't really believe in, when I heard someone behind me. It was Marissa.

"Some men had come, she'd told me, after I left that spring of '63. Union soldiers. They took everything she owned. They raped her, and left her for dead. Then they burned her home. She told me she got pregnant after the rape. She had a child, a daughter, that had died a few months before my return. She said she hoped I would return, and I did.

"I took her with me to Texas, and she and I made a nice home in what had been my adoptive parents home. And for a few years, I was at peace with the world."

"How did she die?"

"I'd gone in to Fort Worth to pick up Adam. He was coming in on the noon train from Chicago, just for a visit, or so he'd said. Marissa and I, we lived about three hours by horse away from the city. Indian raiders struck the homestead. Burned it and everything inside to the ground. Marissa included. I was inconsolable for quite some time. I'm just glad that Adam was there or I might have done something monumentally stupid. When he left, I joined the Rangers, and I've been with them ever since."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like."

Jake had taken his pack with him into a nearby bathroom to change. The last thing he wanted to do was change out in the open. It was too damned cold to do that! He was already wearing thermals so all he did was remove his jeans and his shirt and boots. Adam had, that morning, given him these clothes to wear. Jake had seen them in the news recently. The Army's new battle dress uniforms. These were subdued winter urban camouflage. He put on the pants and the shirt quickly, trying to retain as much heat as possible. The boots were next. Heavy duty, extreme weather boots, with an inflatable lining that would retain heat, and keep his feet comfortable as well. The web gear came next. A canteen to keep him hydrated. A holster for his Sheridan Special mounted on the side of his right thigh. A cold weather face mask to keep the biting wind from giving him frostbite. And finally, the encrypted link radio set that Adam had provided for him.

"Adam, you all set?"

"Got you covered Jake. Folter is still where he was, enjoying the coffee you left him in that thermos. I still think you should have poisoned that coffee."

"Nah. Wouldn't be sportsman like."

"You and your damned code of honour will be the death of me. Move out Jake. You've got eighteen minutes to make it to the first cache."

"On my way."

----------------------------------------

Jake was on the northern side of the Park when Folter began to move out from the southern end. Jake had planted one of his caches near a ravine. This spot must attract a lot of lovers, he thought. Just now, all he could hear was the almost silent bubbling of the water as it passed over the rocks and fed into a pool. Pierson radioed the fact that Folter was carefully examining some spot or other on the south side and that even at a full out run, he was thirty minutes or so from him. So Jake took the time to heat up some hot chocolate and eat an energy bar.

"Jake. I'm back onshore and headed out of the Park to Adam. Platform is clean, no traps evident."

"Thanks, Connor. Go and get warm someplace."

"Laddie, tis nothing but a brisk highland wind, like that which oft blew in over Loch Shiel."

"Whatever, Connor. After this, and you can hold me to it, I'll be buying the bar."

"That's a good lad."

"Jake. He's passing East 72nd and heading north to East 79th. You've got time yet."

"Thanks Adam."

Jake had picked a good spot for an ambush and this was where he was headed. South to the Ramble, near 79th street. At best, he'd be able to get off one or two shots, so he wanted to make them count as much as possible. He knew that his Quickening would warn Folter of his presence long before he got into range for a shot, so he'd have to be cautious about things.

He'd picked a spot atop a boulder, a mere fifteen feet above the central path. He pulled a Gillie suit from his pack and quickly pulled it into place over him. Now he looked more like a small pile of snow than a man with a gun.

There were a few trees in front of him, just enough trees to provide a little bit of cover. Folter was closer now. Less than one hundred-fifty feet.

"I know you are here, Ranger. I can sense you."

Folter walked closer to Jake, almost as if he were using the sensation of the Quickening to home in on Jake. There, less than one hundred feet. Jake let fly with the two rounds in the barrel. He'd loaded two rounds instead of one, cause he knew he wouldn't be able to get off two individual rounds. One hit centre mass, the other on Folter's thigh. It was just enough of a distraction. Folter was looking left and right and Jake used the opportunity to slip backwards along the boulder on which he had lain. As soon as he hit the ground behind it, he ran quickly into the denser part of the Ramble behind him and within a few minutes the Quickening had faded to just so much extra background noise. Behind him, he could hear Folter shout in anger.

"First blood to you, Ranger! You will not be so lucky a second time!"

Jake quickly made his way south across the rest of the Ramble and the small lake there and into a section that was called Wagner Cove on his map. He'd planted a pair of water bottles inside the water fountain and these he got out and drank down quickly before turning around and running north towards the military fortifications, where he'd hidden his next cache. After retrieving that cache, he'd moved on to Huddlestone Arch, where he'd take the chance to make something hot. Pierson told him that he had Folter in plain sight, running around in circles near the Obelisk. And he made a comment as to Jake's evasion skills.

"Where'd you learn to E&E like that, Jake?"

"Escape and Evade? At the beginning of WWII, I was with the 3rd Ranger Battalion at Cisterna."

"I heard about them. Wasn't the 1st and the 3rd captured at Cisterna?"

"They were, Connor. Six men managed to escape and get back to Allied lines. If I could evade whole companies of German soldiers trying to kill me, what do you think I can do to just one German soldier?"

"Just see to it that you do just that, Jake."

"Always, Adam."

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In a hotel in front of the Park, a different set of ears were monitoring the encrypted radio links.

"3rd Rangers? What ya think, Carter? Think we should recruit him?"

"Another Immortal, sir?"

"Hammond wants to put together a unit, made up of them. Duncan is supposed to be working on a list."

"But his most recent experience in uniform is what? World War II?"

"Let me see if Pierson knows anything else."

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Jake had heated up some water for another spot of hot chocolate. He'd rather have coffee, but he was saving that for morning. He'd need the caffeine then more so than now. Besides, the pasty energy bars went down so much easier with chocolate. Then he'd move on to his next ambush site. This one, he'd prepped earlier in the day, and it had a trip wire. He'd set one up along the Bridle Path just opposite the Reservoir. The wire ran along the road and was barely visible against the new layer of fresh powder that was still falling. It connected to a simple set of noisemakers that when pulled, a small charge went off and it made an eighty-five decibel bang. Hopefully it would get Folter to look the wrong way so Jake could put a few rounds into him.

He was laying on the ground now, under some brush by the side of the path, once again covered by his Ghillie suit. The range was much closer now. But Folter was still far away. Jake took the time to rig a second trip wire, this one with a different surprise to it. He'd removed the payload of a shotgun shell, leaving only one-tenth of the powder charge and the buffer wad in place. He stuffed it with three paintballs, and rigged the new shell to a mouse trap trigger.

He learned how to rig the mouse trap trigger back in 'Nam, when rigging such devices meant all the difference between life and death. Hopefully, while Folter was stumbling around shocked by the previous trip-wire alarm, he'd trip this second wire, and end up with at least one splotch of paint, centre mass. Then, while he was looking away, Jake would pump two more rounds into him, and make his retreat.

"Jake, he's closing on your position fast. I make it about two hundred yards."

"Roger that Adam. Just finished up another little surprise for Folter."

"Should I ask?"

"Just a couple of trip wires."

"Oh Lord."

"I know you are very close, Ranger. Your Quickening shines to me, it calls to me to set it free!"

Folter took a step, then another and another. The fourth step caught the first trip wire and six very loud eighty-five decibel alarms went off with milliseconds of one another. Folter turned quickly at the sound, moving his foot through the second wire. He was rewarded with yet another loud bang, this one from the shotgun shell setting off its charge, and then the sudden feeling of multiple impacts along his chest. And before his ears could clear from the ringing they were still feeling, he took another pair of rounds to his back. He turned quickly, bringing his gun up to fire a spray on automatic, but he missed completely. As Jake ran away, he had enough time to put two more rounds into Folter, one hitting him on the arm, the other on the leg. As he ran away, he called out to Folter.

"That's six for me, and none for you Victor. I thought you were better than this!"

"Ranger! I will kill you! Slowly!"

Jake ran hard and fast, leaving an easy trail for Folter to follow that led right to the jogging trail around the Reservoir, before stopping and listening. Hearing no pursuit for the moment, he took his time and left a few false trails, then headed south to another cache. He stopped after a good thirty minute run to catch his breath and to dig up the cache, lightly buried beneath Rose Hill. He took the items there, and replenished the supplies he'd used. The mouse trap had worked so well, that he'd taken everything in this cache and put it into his pack and that included two more mouse traps.

"So, Jake. Any recent military experience?"

"Define recent, Adam."

"Say, in the last fifty years?"

"Well, there was that little skirmish that some folks call Vietnam. I was with the 1st of the 7th at Ia Drang. More recent than that? Desert Storm. 'Nuff said."

"Why is it you like the military where so many of our kind do not?"

"More of a structured environment. Besides, I like this country. I'll do whatever I can to defend it. Only once have I taken up arms against it, and that was in 1861. But that was the only time."

"A lot of people were madder than hatters back then. I well know it. I avoided the fighting, but you know I did do my part."

"If it had been anyone else whose table I woke up on, I'm sure they'd a had a heart attack, and it would have been awhile before I could find a good teacher."

"Just so you don't forget your lessons in combat, Jake."

"Nah. That would be next to impossible, Adam."

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"1st of the 7th and Desert Storm? Ok. I think I like this guy."

"Those trip wires he rigged, I think he's more your type, sir."

"I think so too. He's got Special Forces written all over him, and I haven't even met him yet. Think you can access the personnel files and run a name search, Carter?"

"I'll get on it sir."

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Six hits centre mass and Folter hadn't even managed to come close to hitting him yet. It was still a good three hours to sunrise. Jake wondered if he'd be able to hit him like that again. The next ambush site was near Turtle Pond in front of Belvedere Castle. Here' he rigged a couple of wires. One had noisemakers again on it, this time pulling them from three points around a central spot. The second one also had shot shells on it, and would pull from three directions to a central spot. Hopefully, with nine paint balls incoming, at least four would hit Folter. But if not, Jake would be in a tree above the spot, ready with at least two rounds for his opponent.

"Ranger! You are close! I can feel you! No more games Ranger! Let us end this! Let me take your head!"
It will be a cold day in Hell when I give up that easily, you rat bastard, thought Jake.

Folter was stumbling about now, the cold was obviously getting to him. It looked like he hadn't changed at all in the last few hours, while Jake had made sure he always had on dry socks. Cold and wet feet weren't good for battle. Folter stumbled into the trip wires pretty quickly, the noise makers going off a split second ahead of the shot shells. He looked about in distress, looking for the source of the noise as seven balls of paint hit front, back and sides of centre mass. Jake didn't even need to fire off a round this time. Folter screamed.

"Ach! Ranger! You have won this part of the battle! Meet me in an hour at the platform on the Reservoir! You may be a better shot than I, but with a sword I am quite deadly! You will not be so lucky this time!"

Jake waited until the sensation of the Quickening had faded before climbing down from the tree. He made his way back to the Castle where he grabbed the last cache. Then he proceeded down to the Reservoir and the rowboat there. He looked across the water and saw Folter rowing to the platform. Jake took his time, breaking out a metal cup and filling it with water. He opened a small wing stove and lit it, putting the cup on it to boil the water. He would sit and change for the coming fight. For this event, he didn't need all the camouflage so much as he needed something lighter. Rather than the baggy BDUs he chose gear that belonged more to his other hobby; mountain climbing. Fleece lined and tight fitting pants. A thermal long sleeve shirt, along with the same boots he was already wearing.

He sat in front of the low fire he'd made and pulled his sword from its scabbard. This was the Cavalry Sabre issued to him during the War for Southern Independence. It needed a bit of cleaning and polishing and this he did with the kit that Connor had given to him a few years ago. He sat and drank his hot coffee and sharpened and polished his blade, waiting for the time to pass. When forty minutes had passed, he stomped out the fire, covering it liberally with snow, picked up his gear and put it into the rowboat, and rowed out to the platform on the water. He arrived with plenty of time to spare and found Folter pacing in the opposite corner.

Jake dropped the anchor and let the boat glide to a stop next to the platform. He got out onto the floating dock and let the boat behind drift off a bit. Then he kneeled on the wood on the dock, took his sword in his hands, and with the blade down, meditated for a few moments to clear his head.

"It is time, Ranger."

"Very well, Folter. Nice sword you got there. Is that a Swastika on the pommel?"

"It is. I took this from a pompous officer in the Luftwaffe, who had an unfortunate tryst with a woman who later admitted to being a part of the French Resistance."

"So, before I take your head, were you Waffen SS or Allgemeine SS?

"Allgemeine!"

"So you were a political officer, not a real soldier then?"

"I was a Panzer commander!"

"Yeah, so you said. Before you joined the SS. You were with those prancing apes in black uniforms. No better than insects. Your kind was responsible for most of the atrocities during the war. I'm sure the local office for the Wiesenthal Centre will be most pleased with the news of your death."

"They were not atrocities! They were experiments designed to create a master race! Hitler knew about us! The Kurgan told him! Hitler wanted to create an Immortal army! The Kurgan and I would have been its commanding officers! But your allied forces destroyed that dream!"

"On second thought, I'm not sure that I want your head. I sure as hell don't want all that hate inside of me."

"If you do not take my head, then I will take yours. Now, fight!"

Folter struck first, and then repeatedly hard and fast. He was trying to overwhelm Jake's defences with fast strikes that made his own sword ring from the strikes. It was not even the twilight before sunrise yet. There was the faintest of light coming from the east, and only the light that Jake and Folter had on them to illuminate the area. Jake parried Folter's blows, allowing him to believe he had a chance.

As their quick dance around each other continued, Victor made a move, which Jake blocked with little effort. Victor pulled back to a few feet away to re-examine this Immortal that challenged him to a fight. It was a challenge he was sure he could win. His sword was longer, and designed to inflict as much blunt force trauma as slashing and piercing trauma. It was a heavy sword, made for a hugely muscled man.
Jake was calling everything he had ever learned about the fine art of sword play into this fight. It was a challenge he could ill afford to lose. He very much wanted his head intact at the end of this match. The two of them continued their intricate dance, each scoring the occasional slash across the chest or upper arm of the other. Immortals may heal quickly, but it was not instantaneous. The floor, along with their bodies, was becoming slick with blood. It was unfortunate that the blood on the floor seemed to come primarily from Jake.

But luck was on Jake's side this day for this challenge. Victor slipped for an instant on the blood-slicked floor, but regained his balance after less than four heartbeats. It was, unfortunately for him, three heartbeats too long. Jake's sword flashed in for the kill, slashing across the chest first then pivoting a bit to slash across the throat. A heartbeat later, Jake reversed his swing and brought his sword up and across and cut cleanly through Victor's neck. By the fourth heartbeat, the final one, Victor's head was rolling across the floor.
On the shoreline, Olivia Benson flinched as she saw the head roll across the wooden deck. Though she had seen dead bodies before, this bold depiction of a beheading caused her stomach to turn. Then the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, almost as if there were a source of high voltage electricity near by. She stared at Jake without seeing. Her mind was awash with the implication of the events. So she missed the first tendrils of the semi-transparent whitish mist that teemed with electrical energy that sparked out from the headless body of the late Victor Folter. She regained her senses in time to watch Jake fall to his knees, his sword still in his hand and held high above his head. Bolts of lightning and heavy mists reached out towards Jake and engulfed him, encircled him, and became a part of him. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

"How do you feel Jake?"

"Tired, Adam. I feel tired. And unsettled. I think I need something to soothe my stomach down. I feel light-headed."

"Probably from the blood loss. Yes, it won't kill us, but you have lost blood volume, a significant amount by what I can tell. I never would have thought to use my blood as a weapon, however."

"Nor would I, Adam, but it seemed to work out just fine, don't you think?"

"I think it has, Jake. Now, seeing as you are no longer occupied, what say we go somewhere for a nice round of whiskey?"

"You read my mind, Adam."

"God I hope not! I'd imagine that Victor Folter doesn't fancy spending the rest of eternity encased in the mind of a lawman. A shame he didn't tell us where his followers are."

"Ah, but he did. It's all up here now. An old building. Upper Manhattan."

Jake rowed across the small lake to the waiting police detectives of the NYPD. He gave them the address and then he, Connor and Adam adjourned to the same bar they'd been at the other night. The media were still trying to figure out why the police had cordoned off the Park. The statement about a manhunt was believed for the moment. As the police cars raced off to the location of the victims, the media followed, and they witnessed the police helping thirty odd people out of the building, a few in handcuffs, but most wrapped in blankets. Odds were, they would need a lot of counselling to undo the lies that Victor Folter had washed into their brains.

The rest of the conversation was continued over a number of rounds of drinks at the nearest cop bar they could find. The televisions in the bar were all on to various news channels all telling the same thing; the Police Commissioner's daughter had been found alive and the kidnapper had been killed in a shootout with a Texas Ranger. There were pictures of Jake on one of the television sets in the bar, and the bartender sent over a round of drinks to his table on the house, as a courtesy to the Ranger.

"It's strange, Adam. I've taken a few heads in my time, but none have ever been as dark as this one. His thoughts are unsettling, but I think I understand him now. It wasn't his fault entirely. The Kurgan, that bastard demon spawn from Hell, he really fucked with young Victor's mind. Yes, it's true that he was at one point an officer in the Allgemeine SS, but that was decades ago. The times he lived in at first were fairly tumultuous, but I believe with a kinder teacher, he might have turned out alright. If it had been a not so kind teacher that found me, I daresay I'd still believe in slavery today. Hell, I'd probably still be fighting for the Confederacy, trying to restore it to its glory days. But the teacher that found me was you, Adam, and for that I will be ever grateful. You taught me one very important thing; to look at the world with an open mind."

"I did? I must have missed that part. But then again, I've had far more practice at being the cynic."

"Perhaps, but the role of the cynic suits you, Old One."

"Still want to go to that estate auction this week-end?"

"Sure! I have a few pieces I'd like to add to my collection, if I can find them."

The drinking continued as it had been, and the conversation turned from aspects of Immortals to life in the world as they knew it. Jake Sheridan was oblivious to the secret goings on in Adam's new life as a member of the SGC. Hell, Jake would be hard pressed to believe Adam in the role of a very modern military officer. The man he had met on a battlefield field hospital in 1865 was a far cry from the man seated across from him at this table in a cop bar. He imagined that this man in the bar was even further from the Horseman than anything he could imagine.

He looked over the patrons of the bar. Law enforcement for the vast majority of them, some active, some retired, and some just well wishers. He saw the members of the NYPD's Special Victims Unit and raised his glass in toast to them. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the way that Detective Olivia Benson stared at him. He knew that she had been privy to the Quickening, and he knew that she had felt an attraction to him prior to that final scene with Victor. Now he wondered if she were afraid of him.

It was a hard thing, to love a mortal, knowing full well that one such as himself would only have a few score years to live life with them. She was definitely an attractive woman. He wondered for a few fleeting moments, whether he should make the first move. He was staring towards the front of the bar when he noticed three men and a woman enter the bar. From the moment he laid eyes on them, his senses screamed 'Military!'. He wondered what they were doing in a cop bar.

The older of the four seemed to pause for a moment as he scanned the bar, looking for a friend perhaps? Then his eyes zeroed in on the table he and Adam were sitting at, and the four made their way to the table. The large black male with them seemed off to Jake, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. But he certainly was an imposing hulk of a man at well over six feet in height, and built like a linebacker.

"Pierson."

"O'Neill. You know, my leave's not supposed to be over yet."

"I know. But when you mentioned that estate sale, well, I thought maybe the team could use a little R&R."

"After two years in close company, I needed the R&R too, Jack. But must we all take it together? I would have assumed that two years of me in close contact with you four would have been enough."

"Two years to us. A matter of days to everyone else. But are you going to let us just stand here? Or are you going to introduce us to your friends?"

Truth be told, Jake had wondered why Adam hadn't introduced them yet at that point. Their conversation was a mystery to the others at the table. But again, Jake and Connor were both having a difficult time picturing Adam in the military.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Murray. I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine and a former student of mine, Jacob Sheridan, of the Texas Rangers, and Connor MacLeod. I believe you already know his cousin."

"Pleasure to meet y'all, I'm sure. Adam's mentioned nothing about y'all, but it seems he's made mention of some of his abilities?"

"Kinda hard to hide something like that, wouldn't you think Mr. Sheridan?"

"Call me Jake. Or if you must be formal, then Ranger Sheridan or Captain Sheridan will suffice."

"Texas Ranger, eh? Never thought I'd meet one of you guys. Are the legends of the Rangers true?"

"Some are. Some aren't. Most of the stories have a few grains of truth in them."

"How long have you been a Texas Ranger, Jacob Sheridan?"

"Seems like centuries to me, uhm, Murray?"

"Then you are also an Immortal?"

"Telling tales out of school, Adam?"

"I trust these people with my life Jake. You can do the same."

"I trust them only because I trust you, Adam. I extend that courtesy to them for that reason alone. But I do not like the idea of the military knowing what I am."

"Nor do I, Jake. But it was a necessary thing. And someday soon, perhaps I will explain it all to you."

"I'll take you up on that. So, Colonel? Hope you like whiskey, cause that's all we're drinking here."

"Sounds good to me. Ever been in the military, Sheridan?"

"A few times. Mounted cavalry for the CSA. Infantry in the Great War. Have been a member of the 2nd Ranger battalion on and off since the Second World War. On for the wars, off for the peace."

"Second Rangers, eh?"

"Yep. North Africa, Italy, and later, Normandy. Hell of a thing. War that is. A hell of a thing to inflict on anyone."

"I think I'm gonna like you Sheridan."

"Should I be worried about that Adam?"

"Nah."

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The next day dawned cold and clear. Temperatures hovered in the teens, but there was little wind to add a chill. Jacob had watched the tearful reunion between the Commissioner and his daughter the night before on the news. This morning, he had spoken briefly with the Commissioner before coming into the SVU unit to finish the paperwork and bid his good-byes to the men and women of that unit. He respected their abilities and he respected their jobs. It was a job he certainly didn't want. He saw enough men and women with criminal intent to leave the truly deranged killers to the experts.

"Ranger? All finished now?"

"Yep. The last of my paperwork has been emailed and faxed in to Ranger headquarters in Austin, with copies to my commander in Fort Worth. Quite frankly, Captain Cragen, after chasing this mutt down for ten years, then capturing him after only a couple weeks, well, I thought I'd take a few days off before heading back home."

"Well, if you need anything you know where to call."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Oh, by the way, I have something for you."

"A gift? You shouldn't have."

"Think of it as a something to remember a visit from a Ranger. I make a few dozen of these a year. They'll take any twelve gauge cartridge out on the market. It's a break-open loader, and the box there has a dozen spare clips in it. All you gotta do is fill up the clips and you'll be ready. It's a short barrel, so the effective range is maybe a dozen feet, but as a back-up weapon, it'll save your hide if it comes to that."

"What do you call this thing?"

"A Sheridan Special. If any of y'all ever get a hankerin' for anything from Texas, y'all know who to get a hold of. If you're ever down in Texas, just call me up. I'll make sure to play the right proper host for y'all."

"Thanks Sheridan. Have fun in the city and have a safe flight back to Texas."

"Thank you sir. Bye now."

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Jake had managed to get just outside of the building before Detective Benson caught up to him.

"Ranger!"

"Detective Benson?"

"Uhm, I was wondering if you might have dinner with me before you leave?"

"That would be a pleasure, ma'am."

"I'll call you tonight. You're still staying with Connor?"

"I'll be there through Monday next. He, Adam and myself will be attending an estate auction on Saturday. If you're not busy, maybe you could join us?"

"Maybe."

"Ok then. I'll talk to you tonight."

"Bye."

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That Evening

Jacob Sheridan, Immortal and Texas Ranger, felt like a young school boy out on his first date. It was not an unpleasant feeling and certainly not one he'd had in the better part of over a decade. His last love had been a supply sergeant for his Ranger battalion during the Desert Storm. And sadly, she had been one of the few deaths in that war. It was true that Jake was no stranger to romance. But it was also true that he feared it. Feared it because of the eventual loss of his partners, a loss that was unavoidable.

Olivia Benson was wondering how she could have feelings for this man sitting across from her in the Greek restaurant they were now in. He had ordered for both of them, something traditional he'd said. But as he did so, she took the time to study him now that their obvious attraction for one another had been revealed. She saw in his eyes a strength that was uncommon in the men she dated. A strength that spoke of countless fights and battles. She'd already seen the criss-cross of scars across his back and chest. She knew he'd been alive through some of the more tumultuous periods in US history. She wondered if she could love a man like Jake.

"Penny for your thoughts, Olivia?"

"My thoughts might be worth more than that, Jake."

"Don't carry that kind of cash with me, though. Will you take a credit card?"

She laughed. It was a carefree and easy laugh.

"Maybe you should just cut to the chase and buy something for me instead."

"Maybe. Somehow, I get the impression that flowers or chocolates just won't do, though."

"Oh well, flowers and candies are nice, but I'm a practical woman."

"Hmm. Ok then, how about a new gun?"

Now she laughed even harder. It was a good thing too.

"Depends on your choice of firearms, Jake."

"Well, there's nothing like the feel of a Desert Eagle in fifty AE in your hands. But I'm equally happy with a decent rifle or a good shotgun."

"You carry the Desert Eagle?"

"Yep."

"Good God, why? Wouldn't so powerful a round do too much damage to a perp?"

"Nah. Not if you place the shot just right. But I generally use the gun to stop a fleeing vehicle. You can imagine what a fifty caliber round can do to an engine block. For the perps, I use my shotgun. And before you ask, it's loaded with less-than-lethal rounds."

"So is what they say about the Rangers true then?"

"What do they say about the Rangers?"

"Only takes one Ranger to control a riot?"

"One riot, one Ranger. It's been our unofficial motto since the 1800's. Might have been true then, when the cities in Texas were still fairly small. But nowadays it takes more than one of us to control a riot. I for one would hate to walk into a riot all alone. I don't like those kinds of odds."

"But you can't be killed, right?"

"True. But how did you react when you saw me come back to life after Connor shot me? Now think of crazed rioters seeing that."

"Not a pretty picture."

"Enough shop talk. Here comes our meal. After we're done here, I thought maybe you'd be interested in some coffee? Perhaps a drink or two?"

"Coffee and a long chat with you will have to do. To much paperwork at the office to do much drinking tonight."

"Ah, yes. The bane of every law enforcement officer everywhere. Paperwork. Perhaps we should toast to that, eh? Here's to short stacks of paperwork that can be completed in minutes!"

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The next few days passed in a whirlwind of sights and sounds. The last time Jake had been in New York City was at the end of the Second World War. Things had certainly changed in this great city, but it was still too much of a city for Jake. He knew his time there was coming to a close and he longed for the wide open spaces of his home state. This budding romance with Olivia was turning into a good thing, and he promised to write and to call every now and then. She promised the same as he boarded the flight for Texas.

Connor promised to make sure the items he'd bought at the estate auction would be sent out shortly and perhaps he'd go out for a visit as well. New York City in the winter could be a harsh thing indeed, and he longed to see Texas again. Methos had left the night before, on a small business jet that sported USAF markings on the wings. Jake wondered about that for a moment. The military was aware of their kind. He was unsure how he felt about that. But if the situation could be judged by Methos, then perhaps it was a good thing.

All he knew now, as the plane climbed to its cruising altitude was that the man he had chased across several states had finally met the only justice he would understand. At the point of a sword.

And then there was Olivia. He would make it a point to see her again, and as often as he possibly could. Such a beautiful thing, this thing called love.

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Disclaimers: Highlander is not mine. That wonderful series belongs to Rysher productions. Nor is Law and Order: SVU mine. That belongs to Wolf Films. Lastly, the characters found so often on the premier Stargate Team known as SG-1 are not mine. Though they appear only in a few paragraphs, they belong to Gekko Productions and to the SCI-FI channel.
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POTENTIAL
PART 1 OF THE POTENTIALS SERIES
What happens when SG-1, with resident Immortals, meet up with the Battlestar Galactica? A war that could span the universe.

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Excerpt From the Fifth Race:

ASGARD 1: We have studied your race closely.
JACK O'NEILL: Ah. What did you learn?
ASGARD 2: That your species has great potential...

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During the Cold War, the facility within Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, known as NORAD, or the NORth American Defence complex, was to have been the command and control centre in the even of an attack on the United States by the Soviet Union or one of its allies. Afterward, while it still served as a command and control complex, its status as the leading centre for defence would be challenged by a second complex, built beneath the first one. Known only to a very select few within the United States military, the facility known as the SGC, or StarGate Command, has now become the first line of defence against an enemy that could obliterate the planet and all of its inhabitants, yet not have to step foot on the planet.

The mandate of the SGC is two-fold. First, to make contact with other civilizations via the alien portal called the Stargate. Second, to obtain technologies and allies that can help Earth. In the history that the members of the SGC give to all recruits, the story goes like this: Thousands of years previously in the history of our planet, a race of parasitical creatures called the Goa'uld came to this world. What they saw in primitive man was a body that with their technology they could easily repair and achieve something akin to immortality. Furthermore, because man was still at a very primitive state, they could manipulate their primitive beliefs. The creatures known as the Goa'uld became the personification of the Gods worshipped by early man. The first of these parasites adopted the godly persona of Ammon-Ra, the Egyptian Sun God, and it became the king of all the Gods. Their society enslaved primitive man and sent him via the Stargate to hundreds of thousands of worlds as slaves.

But a rebellion in the Earth's past put an end to their earthly empire with the Stargate buried and the few Goa'uld on the planet killed. With the passage of time and the fading of civilizations, the story of the Goa'uld and their influence on early man was lost. That is, until 1928 on the Giza plateau, when the Stargate was uncovered. Now, that very same 'Gate is housed within the SGC where teams of soldiers, scientists, and diplomats, go forth through the Stargate to re-establish contact with those tribes of humans that were taken from Earth, thousands of years prior. The premier team among the teams is called SG-1. These four souls are responsible for establishing contact with three of the most advanced races in the universe; the Nox, the Tollan, and the Asgard. They have also saved our planet on more than one occasion. In the process, they've managed to change the Earth's status from forgotten planet, to a planet designated for total annihilation.

One of the members of SG-1, Major Samantha Carter, doctor of Astrophysics, had chanced upon something that could, quite possibly, alter the balance of power in the Earth's favour. Ironically, it was not one of her discoveries, nor the analysis of any artifact retrieved by an SG team. It was something she read in one of her journals and later researched in detail on the net. The next day, she was in the office of Major General George Hammond, base commander for the SGC.

"General Hammond."

"Major Carter. Please have a seat. Now, what was so important that you had to see me so early?"

"Sir, last night, while catching up on some of my reading, I came across an article that, if proven, could quite possibly change the way we work around here."

"Where was this article published?"

"Among the many journals I subscribe to, but rarely have a chance to read is one called Physics Letters. These are announcements, primarily, of work in progress in various fields. One such letter caught my interest. The work is being conducted by one Doctor Marco Ramos. I checked his bio and it seems he is listed as IRR with the 366th Fighter Wing at Mountain Home Air Force base in Idaho, under the rank of Major. It also indicates that he has several degrees that could be of great value to us. Of particular interest is the theoretical work he is doing on force fields."

"Is his work strictly theory?"

"Unknown sir. When I tried to make inquiries I was told my clearance wasn't high enough?"

"That's unusual. Let me make a few calls, but I want you and Colonel O'Neill to be ready for a visit to Dr. Ramos."

"Of course sir."

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Some hours later, Major Carter and Colonel Jack O'Neill, commander of SG-1, found themselves entering the research complex in Idaho, where Dr. Ramos and his team were conducting their experiments.

"Tell me again, Carter, why this guy is so important?"

"Sir, if he can build one of the shields he's theorized, we could protect the planet against Goa'uld attack. If his theories hold true, the shields he's come up with would make Goa'uld shields look like paper by comparison."

"Sweet. Go figure though, another scientist for the SGC."

"Actually sir, his file is quite interesting. He joined the Air Force right out of high school. Went through basic where one of his drill instructors saw something unique and recommended him for OCS. He went to the Gulf War as a lieutenant and came back as a captain. Went to school on the Air Force plan and ended up with two double-major bachelor's degrees, another pair of master's, and a pair of doctorates. Commendations include Purple Heart with Cluster, Silver Star with Cluster, and Saudi Shield again with Cluster. He's listed under the rank of Major, currently listed as IRR with the 366th Fighter Wing."

"Saudi Shield?"

"Awarded by the Royal family of Saudi Arabia for saving the life of the Royal Heir. There are no details on how he earned that. His file also indicates fluency in over a dozen languages and tours of duty to various former Eastern Bloc embassies."

"Sounds like a nice guy, except for the scientist stuff."

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"Dr. Ramos. Excuse the interruption, but there are two Air Force officers here to see you."

"Send them in."

Ramos looked up from his work as the two officers were escorted in.

"Doctor Ramos? I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, this is Major Samantha Carter."

"Hello. The Pentagon sending you to check up on us?"

"We're not here on behalf of the Pentagon, however, we would like to ask you a few questions regarding your research."

"My research is classified, Colonel. I'm not a liberty to discuss the nature of the research."

"Perhaps, Dr. Ramos, you could discuss the nature of the paper in Physics Letters?"

"I could discuss that one, yes."

"Doctor Ramos. There is a call for you."

"Did you tell the caller I am in conference?"

"I did sir. Sir, it's the President."

"I see. I'll take the call of course."

O'Neill and Carter stood by as Ramos took the call, listening in on this end of the conversation while trying hard to look disinterested.

"Good morning, Mr. President. Yes. They are in my office at the moment. Yes, I see. Yes, of course I will brief them fully. Yes sir. Good day sir."

"Well, you two come highly recommended. I've been ordered to give you full access to all of my research. So, we'll start here. This box on my desk is actually a generator, with a potential power output of fifteen pentawatts."

"Penta what's?"

"Penta-watt. Think of the number 15 followed by eighteen zeros."

"Big number. But in such a small container?"

"That small container is the power source for my shield technology."

"Then your theory is practical?"

"More than practical Major. My staff and I have built several versions of that shield, along with a few other little 'toys' that the folks at the Pentagon will just love."

"Like what?"

"Like compressing these shields down to a size where they can be loaded onto an Abrams or a Bradley. Heck, we've even begun testing one that will fit onto a Hum-Vee. Or maybe like our rail guns."

"The Navy is researching those, I believe."

"They are Major. And currently, they have them down to a size where they can mount them on a battleship. We've taken that a step further and made them man portable. There are two problems we've encountered so far, though one has a decent workaround. The first problem is that of power. While we can make a generator small enough and light weight enough to fit on web gear, we're having a problem with the capacitors holding a charge beyond fifteen shots. The work around we've come up with is to include the capacitors with the magazine. So when you change out the magazine, you're also quick charging the capacitors. The other problem we have is that only projectiles made of titanium can survive being shot through the barrel; anything else will melt due to air friction after leaving the barrel."

"How fast do the projectiles travel?"

"At full charge, the projectiles leave the gun at Mach 3. But as the capacitors lose their charge, the speed drops. By the time you've gone through a full magazine, projectile speed has fallen to just under Mach 1. Maximum range on a projectile is out to around five miles."

"Impressive! But you mentioned a second problem?"

"Well, unfortunately the charge on the capacitors doesn't last beyond fifteen rounds, which is why we've had to build capacitors into the magazines. While you can reload a magazine in the field, it unfortunately takes six to eight hours for the capacitors to recharge. What this gun means is that an infantryman can now, with one shot, take out a tank, and when used in conjunction with the new shields, our troops can decisively deal with any enemy, any where, and any time."

"Sweet. Carter, I think you're right. He'll fit in perfectly."

"Yes sir, I agree with that."

"Fit in? Excuse me? Fit in where?"

"This letter will explain in detail."

"What?! What are you talking about?!"

"Read the letter, Major."

"To Major Marco Ramos, IRR, 366th Fighter Wing. You are hereby ordered re-activated to duty under direction from the President of the United States. You are to report as soon as possible to SG Command, Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado. Report your arrival to Major General Hammond, base CO. Provisions will be made to move your entire staff and all of your experiments, pending successful clearance of your personnel."

"What the hell is SG Command? Look, Colonel, I did my time in the Air Force. I'm done."

"Maybe, but when the President himself orders you back to active duty, can you honestly say no?"

"Puta madre! I guess not. Tell me this, if my research was not what you expected, would you still have given me that letter?"

"Even if you had not built anything, even if you were only at the theory stage, we would still want you and yes, I still would have given you the letter. Come along Major Ramos, you'll love 'Deep Space Radar Telemetry' at the Mountain."

"Deep space radar telemetry? That's what this is all about? Are you out of your mind?! My research has nothing to offer those fields! Why the hell do you need my research there!?"

"That's classified, doctor."

"Touché, colonel."

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A week later, Major Marco Ramos, resplendent in his dress uniform, reported for duty in the office of Major General George S. Hammond.

"Sir! Major Marco Ramos, reporting for duty, sir!"

"At ease, Major Ramos. Please, have a seat son. You'll find out soon enough that we're not big on protocol here, unless there's a VIP in the mountain. For the time being, until your clearance comes through for your entire staff, you'll be restricted to level twenty-three and above. But first, I want your explanation as to how a Russian astrophysicist came to be on your research team?"

"Simple really. She defected from Russia about eight years ago. The NID came across her bio and felt she might be useful to my research. I think, however, that she was placed there to watch over my work. Nothing that I can prove, just a gut feeling, sir."

"I'll take that under advisement. See to your staff then. I'll have someone brief you fully after their clearances come through."

Shortly after the powers that be had obtained those clearances, the team known as SG-1, the flagship team of Stargate Command, went out to show off the project called X-303. But for Dr. Ramos, he was already familiar with the 303, as his involvement with that project began as the Asgard took the X-303 under tow to their home world. He and his staff had finally been fully briefed in on the full mission of the SGC. They took the news with the grace born of years of pressure that only researchers can understand.

With access to the full set of plans for the space cruiser, Dr. Ramos took his team aside and broke them into several small groups in order to tackle a number of problems at once. One team would work on integrating the shield technology into the 303. Another would try to integrate the rail guns into the ship.

The vessel he imagined would have redundant sets of shields and shield generators along the hull. While most would probably place the stronger shields on the outer perimeter gradually drawing down to a final defence weaker shield, Ramos did the reverse. He hoped that it would entice any enemy into believing the 303 was weaker than it looked. He would, however, still build a shield for final defence, the last ditch effort to save a ship whose other defence and offence systems had suffered total failure. This final shield would be stronger by more than three hundred percent than the strongest normal operational field used by the 303. It would be a last line of defence that would call into play all of the power output of the ship, such that the only remaining power available would be for life support and gravitational controls.

The second team was busily designing rail gun turrets for point defence and several larger rail guns for the main guns establishments. Additionally, by coupling his generator to the plasma cannons salvaged from a number of Goa'uld Death Gliders, they were able to increase the power output and thus the destructive beam output of the weapons. These refurbished guns were placed in turrets that had 360 degree rotational movement and 180 degree lateral movement. A total of five turrets were added to the design specs of the 303 in addition to the thirty rail gun turrets that had already been added. Two of the larger gun turrets were placed on the 'bottom' of the hull, while the remaining three were placed on 'top'.

A third team was looking over the plans for the X-302 space superiority fighter and had found a few methods for improving the power and speed while reducing the size. It was still a two man fighter, but it now sported one fifty gigawatt shield that projected a distance of five centimetres from the exterior of the hull, and a second fifty gigawatt shield that encased the cockpit area of the fighter. The second shield would be activated whenever the ship was powered up and only so long as there were at least one pilot in the ship. It would stay activated until the pilots deactivated it from within. In the event that a crew had to eject, it would protect the cockpit module against enemy fire.

For the fighter, the standard Goa'uld plasma guns were left in place, but with augmented power. The design team added a single double-barrelled rail gun under the main fuselage with the same pivot capabilities as the cruiser-based rail guns. It had been a busy month for the design team. But it had also been a busy month for the SGC. The X-303 was back on Earth in its underground hangar at Area 51. It was at this point that General Hammond gave the go ahead to begin the modifications to the 303 and the two prototypes of the 302 fighters that had been completed.

Ramos pulled his team back together and then split them up again into two groups, one to work on the modifications to the 303, and the other to work on the 302s. Because there were only a single pair of prototype 302 fighters, those would be used as test beds for the new shields and weapons systems. The new breed of fighter craft would begin construction within the month, and would be housed aboard the 303. Inside the cruiser, Marco's teams were busily pouring over the ship and her systems. They were joined by the best engineers that the Air Force and the US Government could afford. Their timeline was short. The SGC wanted the modifications done to their first space cruiser within six months. As an added worry, they also wanted the fighters when the 303 went on-line at the end of those six months.

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"Major Ramos? Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course, Major Carter. Shall we go topside?"

"After you."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Carter?"

"We have a leak. Information about your modifications found its way into the hands of a certain Senator that has oversight for the SGC. You printed out three copies of your modification plans, correct?"

"That is correct. Each one had a final paragraph that was worded slightly differently, as per regulation."

"Good. Then we can trace the leak to a specific person. May I see the copies?"

"Of course."

Samantha Carter reviewed the three copies and quickly found the paragraph in question. Because the wording was so alluring, it made the reader want to quote it verbatim. It also made it easy to track the source of the leak. It was a method that had been forced upon him by the NID. The leak led directly to the Russian defector that Marco Ramos had long suspected.

"Marco, the leak is Dr. Irina Bugayev. Her copy is the one the Senator saw and quoted from. Unfortunately he's using the information against us. He has apparently arranged for the information to be leaked to a trio of foreign governments. The French, the British, and the Chinese are all demanding information or threatening to go public with what little information they already possess. The President has decided to bring their ambassadors into the loop and to brief them in the hopes they can convince their governments to remain quiet about the program. We at the SGC believe that this is just another ploy for the good Senator to take control of the program."

"I see. Maybe then we should arrange a leak of our own. Would you do me a favour and play along with me for a little while? I'm going to accidentally mention a few choice titbits to Irina. False titbits, but she doesn't need to know that."

"Ok. Give her enough information that she'll contact the Senator and then we use that to hang her."

"You got it."

----------------------------------------

"Irina? Would you join me for a few moments?"

"Of course Marco."

"I see that the modifications are progressing according to plan."

"They are. The new shield generators should be on-line and ready by the end of the week. The test modules overloaded, unfortunately, so we had to rebuild the generators from scratch."

"That was unfortunate. Did you discover why?"

"The coolant system failed and the generator core overheated."

"I see. Well, the reason I asked you to join me is that Major Carter here has just given me a heads up on a new technology one of the SG teams recovered from planet P3X788. I think with a little work, we can integrate the device into the weapons of the cruiser and possibly build a smaller version for the fighters. The device has some interesting potential applications for, among other things, crowd control. The device releases an electrical pulse that can render any person or persons within five square miles of terrain completely unconscious for up to three hours. The potential as a ground control weapon against the Goa'uld is incredible! But I can see applications of this technology in riot control as well. Imagine! Being able to fire one shot and knock several hundred or perhaps several thousand people unconscious! Furthermore, a second shot that lands within one half kilometre of the epicentre of the first shot will vaporize those unconscious bodies. For warfare, that is an effective tool, don't you think?"

Irina couldn't think. The possibility that such a weapon could be turned against her former homeland made her decision quickly. She would break protocol and send along this report immediately instead of waiting for the bi-monthly dead drop. The sheer nerve of this man and these people! To think that she worked alongside them made her sick. She had purposely contaminated the coolant so that the system would fail. She was sure that he would never learn that. As smart as Marco thought he was, he was an idiot compared to her genius.

"I think it will make an excellent addition to the cruiser, Marco! When can we see the device so we can begin adapting it to the cruiser?"

"The device in question is being examined at the SGC, then will be moved to the secure labs at Area 51. We should get it about two weeks from now."

"Good. I will expect it then. But until then, I still have much work to do."

"Ok. I'll let you get back to it. Oh, one more thing, give your staff a heads up. I'll be announcing a three day liberty pass at the daily wrap-up."

"I'm sure they'll be grateful!"

Irina made her decision quickly. That fool Marco had even given her three days to pass along this new information and not have to worry about the extreme security at Area 51. She had no idea that the information Marco had given her was anything other than factual.

Marco had pulled his other two section chiefs aside and briefed them in on the plan. Then he asked them to go over everything Irina had been working on, including the coolant systems. With as many filters as there were on those systems, the idea of a contaminant entering the system seemed remote. There were too many critical systems that she had access to, thanks to the recommendations of his contact at the NID. A contact he would be sure never to use again.

----------------------------------------

A week later, Marco had called his staff together for a briefing. After the staff members took their seats and the door to the conference room had been closed, two teams of SFs had moved in to secure the room. They were awaiting a go command from Colonel O'Neill who was sitting in on the briefing.

"Well people, let's get this briefing underway. Mitch, fill us in on progress with the fighters."

"Sure thing, Marco. The two X-302s that we're using as prototypes and test beds for new miniaturization trials have been fully modified. The result is a fighter that is unfortunately no longer air-worthy nor space-worthy. We're starting work on a new prototype model, the X-302A using the nano-assemblers modified by Marco. As soon as we get to a critical mass on the assemblers, we estimate prototype completion inside of three days. Our projections show that to reduce the production time, we'll need to implement the assemblers in critical mass units of multiples of three. Each group of three will reduce construction time by one day, so nine CMUs will construct one plane per day, eighteen units will give us two planes, and so on. I've got a three-man action team working on making the assemblers more productive, but that's going to take a bit of time and luck."

"Thanks Mitch. Phil, you're next."

"Right. Ok, we've got the rail guns on-line and operational. We've also solved the power problem on the rail guns in the turrets. Instead of constantly charging the capacitors for the guns, we've changed the projectile by including a small capacitor. This will also solve our charge problem on the man portable rail gun, and give the projectile a constant speed of Mach 3.5. We're having to make minor modifications to the power system to handle the larger power requirements for the pulse cannons. We're also working on modifying a number of different types of missiles trying to find a decent compromise between speed, range, and payload capacity."

"Sounds like you have things well in hand. Irina?"

Marco had a week's worth of surveillance on Dr. Bugayev, including taped phone conversations. She had leaked information on their most secret projects to a Senator and to the NID. Because of this, Senator Kinsey had almost succeeded in moving command of the SGC from the Pentagon to the NID. The only reason the Senator failed in his move is that the Asgard intervened on behalf of the SGC. A month after his ill-fated attempt, the good senator was listed among the dead after a crazed Japanese pilot slammed his 747 into the Capitol building, killing not only him but a significant portion of the US government.

"Thank you Marco. We are still having problems with the coolant system. We are trying to identify the source of contamination."

"I'm sure you are. Tell me Irina, how was your trip to DC?"

"I'm sorry? Marco? What are you talking about?"

"Come off it, Irina. You do realize that you, hell all of us, are working for an extremely top secret organization. Surely you must be aware that all of my staff, myself included, are under constant surveillance? Yet you flaunted that when you contacted the NID and passed along classified information. I went over those coolant systems myself while you were out. Mitch and Phil helped me out. We sealed the system ourselves and placed markers on the system. Those markers were gone today after you 'checked' the system before the power-up test. Why have you been sabotaging the project? You must realize that the project will eventually defend this planet against the Goa'uld! Why? Tell me why, Irina?"

"Stupid American. You really think I would let you, the United States, keep all this technology to yourselves? I am Russian, Doctor Ramos. What I did was for the betterment of the treaty between my country and yours. Foolish American!"

"First off, Doctor Bugayev, I'm American because I've been here long enough to be considered one. It is my adopted country. I am, in fact, Spanish. And you Doctor, you are hereby 'retired'. Colonel O'Neill, if you will, please remove this traitor from my sight?"

"Ya sure ya betcha. It'll truly be a pleasure. Guards?"

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After the incident with Dr. Bugayev, the remaining work with the X-303, now officially christened the USAF Prometheus, was completed fairly quickly. Within six months, the ship was in orbit and ready for a shakedown cruise. Three fighter squadrons and one shuttle squadron were aboard and they were only waiting for the final shuttle to come up from Earth.

Marco went into the small gymnasium aboard the Prometheus to practice. It had been some time since he had been able to practice with his sword. Skills like his were far too rare. In nearly twenty-six hundred years of life, his ability with the sword had only increased. But without practice, those skills became rusty. He had held one top secret position or another with various governments of the world since his first life, a little more than two thousand six hundred years earlier. In all that time, he had managed to stay on holy ground and had only taken heads on rare occasions, only when he was unable to talk his challenger out of the challenge. He had met a few Immortals in his life that had not challenged him outright. Immortals older than he by far. Darius had been one of them. He had met him on the battle field. On opposite sides. But the two had come away from the battle alive. And friends.

Marco had been saddened to hear that Darius' life had been extinguished by a mere mortal. Another Immortal, Ramirez, had been his first teacher in Spain. He had mourned when he heard of the old Egyptian's death at the hand of the Kurgan. He had cheered privately and raised a toast to Ramirez's student, the elder MacLeod when he had taken the Kurgan's head. Of the older ones, Ramirez and Darius had both been friends whom he could trust implicitly. And now they were dead. The Game was not real. He had long believed that. But then again, he had not actively participated in centuries.

Now, after nine months in the stale underground environment that was Area 51, he was in space. A place he never imagined he would go. His 'parents' always knew he would go far, though into space probably was not even a consideration. He had started his kata, a simple set of practice movements to limber up before practicing with this sword, a shamsir blade he had commissioned over twenty-two centuries previously.

As he finished his kata, he became aware of an audience. That would be the ship's commander, he thought, Commander Victor Hawkes, formerly of the US Navy.

"Commander Hawkes, I presume."

"Major Ramos. Interesting kata. I am familiar with parts of it, but not all of it."

"It's an ancient form, taught to me by first teacher. He claimed it was Egyptian in origin, though I do not know how true that is. What I do know is that he taught it to me and I have been doing this every day since then."

"That is good. To stick with something that seems to calm you. Tell me, is the sword just for show or do you actually know how to use it?"

"You know, that sounds like a challenge to me. Care for some quick sparring?"

"Sure."

They had been sparring for about ten minutes. The commander was no match for Marco, but he took it easy on him, adjusting his fighting style to match that of the commander. Marco's use of the shamsir blade gave him a bit of an edge in reach versus Victor's naval sabre sword. From what Marco could see, it seemed perfectly balanced. He would liked to have met the master weapon-smith that created that particular blade.

The interruption came to both at the same instance but was two different interruptions nonetheless. For Marco, it was the sense of an approaching Immortal, or rather several approaching Immortals. For Victor, it was a call from the bridge that the final shuttle was coming aboard, with SG units 1, 3, and 9, and the two newest units, the shock troopers that had recently been recruited, SG units 19 and 20. It was supposed to be a shakedown cruise for the Prometheus and for the fighter and shuttle pilots aboard. They would be conducting battle drills and fighter scramble drills along with combat landings on an Earth-like world that to their knowledge had no Stargate.

Aboard the shuttle, just prior to landing, Jack pulled Methos aside. He had some nagging questions about something Marco Ramos had said some months previously. He had done an in depth check of Marco Ramos and found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Pierson. Something that Dr. Ramos said a few months ago has been bothering me. He said something like what you said when we recruited you, that he had been in the US long enough to be considered a citizen."

"Really? And your background check?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. No siblings, but his parents are quite alive, though quite old. Maybe you could check with your own sources?"

"I'll ask Joe about him. Uhm, Jack?"

"Pierson?"

"Is he on the Prometheus?"

"He and his design team have been aboard for some time, running checks on the systems, why?"

"He's one of us. I can feel him. He's not a young one. Not as old as me, but not as young as MacLeod."

"No challenges, Pierson. If he's as old as you think he is then he's survived quite a bit. And he is responsible for designing the shields and weapons on this ship along with the fighter detachment."

"No challenges, Jack. Just a chat."

Marco, in the meantime, had gone back to his quarters and stowed his gear, then took a quick shower before putting on a ship suit. The ship suit. A one piece jumpsuit that one of his team had devised. It had a small piping system woven into the layers of the suit that could alternatively keep the wearer cool or warm, depending on the ambient temperature outside the suit. The outer layer was a Kevlar and carbon fibre mix with an extremely tight weave that could stop rounds from the standard firearm in use by the SGC. The outer layer also had a shield generating matrix woven into it that would stop a blast from a staff weapon. They were working on modifications to the suit so that it would also stop a blast from a zat gun, but they weren't quite there yet. Now he was walking back to his lab where he could continue his work. He was also trying to calm himself so as to reduce the 'signature' of his Quickening. A few moments later and his Quickening now appeared almost quiet.

That came as a surprise to Pierson, several decks down in the hangar bay. One second the presence was there, the next it was almost imperceptible. The older Immortals with him, the members of the strike team, had also felt the lessening of the presence. They all looked at one another, expectantly, as only an old Immortal could accomplish such a lessening. Pierson resolved to solve the problem. He and Jack went out in search of the mysterious Dr. Ramos. They found him in his lab, examining the results from the most recent engine tests.

"Ramos."

Marco turned around. Though his own presence was diminished, he could feel this other one's quite clearly. He turned and saw to whom it belonged.

"You. I know you. You were a friend to Darius."

"How do you know Darius? I do not know you."

"You would not. Darius once showed me a picture of you. I can feel your Quickening old one."

"You have me at a disadvantage, for I can barely feel yours."

Marco relaxed himself and allowed the full force of his Quickening to shine through.

"Better?"

"You are not a young one. Not recently in any case."

"No. I'll celebrate 2598 in a few months."

"You knew Darius?"

"I met him, for the first time, on a battle field in Italy, a long time ago. We fought each other and came away alive. We became friends. I last saw him a few days before he died."

"Who was your teacher?"

"Ramirez was my teacher. I also mourn his loss."

"Come with me. I'll introduce you to the Immortal Strike teams. Maybe we'll find another that knows you."

"Perhaps."

SG-3 and 9 had already been shown to their quarters and were stowing their gear, so it was only the strike teams in the mess hall when Pierson, Jack, and Marco walked into the room.

"Madre de Dios! Ramirez? I thought you were dead!"

"Marco! It's been what? Four centuries since we last saw one another?"

"About that. It was right before you went to Scotland. Where you died."

"Ah, but my head is still quite attached to my neck. News of my death was quite premature."

"So it would seem."

"You are looking well."

"As are you old friend."

Marco was introduced to the others and then after some short chit chat, went to the bridge to check in on progress for the launch. He arrived just as clearance was given to launch.

"Dr. Ramos? Are all systems reporting ready?"

"Shields and weapons are on-line and fully functional."

"Engines on-line and ready, sir."

"Navigation ready."

"Communications ready."

"Science station ready sir. All scanners fully powered and operational."

"Communications, report Prometheus ready in all respects. All stations, prepare for hyper launch."

It felt like a small jolt, like something you would feel when your car ran over a speed bump. Such was the sensation of the ship entering hyper launch. Their destination was some four thousand light years away, in an uninhabited system the Tok'ra claimed was quiet. In that system, the Prometheus would be put through its paces, and the strike teams would practice combat assaults. The trip was estimated to take little more than four hours. They were nearing their exit point, but not quite there, when the science officer reported a contact.

"Sir, something on long range scanners. Numerous contacts. Looks like a convoy of ships. Scanners are having a hard time picking out all the individual ships, but it looks like they number at least four hundred."

"All hands; battle stations! Prepare to drop from hyperspace!"

An alert tone was sounding as pilots rushed to the hangar bay to man their planes. There were three flights of six fighters each, though only one flight could be launched or recovered at any given moment. Nonetheless, all fighters were manned and ready for launch as the Prometheus dropped from hyperspace.

----------------------------------------

On the lead vessel of the convoy, an officer was the first to see the ship suddenly appear on their scanners.

"Commander! An unknown vessel has appeared on our scanners! The scanners are unable to penetrate their shields. They are slowly closing to a distance of ninety microns."

"Sound the alert! Make Blue and Red squadrons ready to launch."

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"Commander Hawkes, they are attempting to scan us, but their scanner beams are being reflected by the shields. She's a big ship. Uh-oh. She's launching fighters!"

"Launch all fighters! But tell them to take up positions around the Prometheus. Do not engage!"

"Aye sir!"

"Science? Tell me about that ship."

"Sir. Looks like one very heavily armed and armoured carrier. Hundreds of weapons emplacements. One second sir. That can't be right. Sir, scanners are reporting the crews on those ships to be human."

"Human? Are you sure?"

"Positive sir. Human. All of them. Computer estimates about forty-five thousand souls aboard approximately four hundred ships."

"Communications, open a channel."

"Channel open sir."

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"Commander, we're getting a comms signal from the alien vessel."

"Pipe it up here, Omega."

"Attention unidentified alien vessel. This is the United States Air Force vessel Prometheus. We mean you no harm. We are merely transiting this space. We will not attack without provocation. Please identify yourselves."

"Prometheus. I am Commander Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica. We too are also transiting this space. We seek information. Perhaps you could be of assistance?"

"What sort of information do you seek?"

"The location of a lost colony of ours. A colony called Earth."

"I see. One moment please."

----------------------------------------

"Oh boy. He did say Earth didn't he?"

"Sure sounded like that to me."

The Prometheus' PA system bellowed with Marco's voice. "SG-1 and 9 report to the bridge on the double!"

"Marco? What do you think?"

"Well, they're human. But why would they think we were a lost colony of theirs?"

"Hell if I know. Everything I know of human history says we evolved there. The Goa'uld took thousands of our ancestors to other worlds, so they may indeed be from one of those colonies. But I just don't know."

"Vic?"

"Jack. Good. There's a ship out there. They claim they're looking for a lost colony world."

"Yeah? What world would that be?"

"They claim Earth is the lost world."

"Oh for crying out loud!"

"You said it brother."

"Weps, drop our shields. Let them get a good look at us. Keep weapons hot and ready though."

"Aye sir."

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"Commander, they've lowered their shields. Scanners now show the crew to be...By the Gods! They're human?!"

"Verify that!"

"Verified sir."

"What do you think Athena? Descendants of the thirteenth tribe?"

"Possibly. We haven't seen anything to contraindicate that. There are no planets in range that could support a star-faring civilization, however."

"Galactica? We have the information you seek. We'd like permission to launch a shuttle with a diplomatic contact team aboard to share this information with you."

"That is acceptable Prometheus."

"The shuttle will be escorted by one flight of fighters, and said fighters will fly cover for your ship while the shuttle is aboard."

"Understandable precaution, Prometheus. We await your arrival."

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"Diplomacy is not my specialty, Jack, but I'd kill to go on the shuttle with you."

"I understand, Vic, but I need you here to cover our six."

"Ok. SG-1, gear up."

"Colonel, I'd like to go along."

"Ok. Pierson, help him gear up."

"This way Marco."

"Sam, tell the strike teams to stand by, just in case."

"Ok. I'll meet you at the shuttle."

Shuttle Alpha left the Prometheus and was joined by Raptor squadron for the short trip to the Galactica. As the shuttle entered the landing bay, two fighters came in with it while the remaining fighters peeled off and assumed a CAP formation over the Galactica. In the enormous hangar bay, the shuttle settled to the deck on its anti-grav impellers. It didn't land per se, but just hovered slightly above the deck. The two fighters also 'landed' alongside. Their cockpits came up and two pilots came down from each plane. One from each crew took up guard positions by the shuttle, while the remaining two stayed by their fighters. SG-1 deplaned. Daniel thought it best to leave their machine rifles on board the shuttle, but relented when it came to the zat guns in their leg holsters, especially when looking out the window to see these Galacticans with very large pistols in their holsters.

Captain Pierson came out first along with Major Ramos who was followed by Teal'c. Pierson moved to the left and Ramos to the right, taking up guard positions. Jack came out next, followed by Daniel Jackson and Major Carter. Daniel came up to a position to the right of Jack while Sam Carter went out to the other side. Both Pierson and Ramos had their swords with them, hidden on their person. Daniel spoke first.

"Hello. My name is Doctor Daniel Jackson. This is Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, Major Ramos, Captain Pierson and Teal'c."

"On behalf of my people I greet you. I am Commander Apollo. This is President Tigh, and Colonel Athena. Welcome to the Colonial Battlestar Galactica. Forgive my anxiousness, but you mentioned information on what we seek?"

"Yes of course. Is there somewhere we could speak more privately?"

"Of course. Follow me please."

They followed the Commander down a myriad of corridors until they came to his office. Within the office each found a seat, waiting for the other to begin. As was always the case, Daniel began first.

"If I may Commander Apollo, tell us why you seek Earth and why you believe it to be your lost colony?"

"Then you will tell us what we wish to know? I suppose it is only fair. Many thousands of yahrens ago, our race lived on the planet Kobol. We were a peaceful race, a happy race, devoted to science and achievement. But even we could not control the forces of nature. The star our planet orbited was becoming unstable. And so the great exodus began. Thirteen tribes left Kobol. Twelve of them went in the same direction and founded the colonies we came from. Contact was lost with the thirteenth tribe at about this point in our history. The twelve tribes settled on a dozen different worlds in nearby star systems where we lived in peace. In peace, that is, until ten thousand yahrens ago when our race came into contact with the Cylons. There began a war that eventually left all of our people wanting peace at any cost. One man, a member of our ruling Council of Twelve, took it upon himself to negotiate a peace treaty with our ages old enemy.

"But the peace treaty was a false one designed to place all of our Battlestars at a location far from the colonies. There, the Cylons attacked en masse, destroying all but one of our Battlestars, the Galactica. Forces from the Cylon Empire also attacked our twelve home worlds, destroying them utterly. We rescued what survivors we could and set out to find the only remaining colony, Earth. This is what my father, Commander Adama, believed in, for he had read tales of Earth and the thirteenth tribe in the Book of the Word. Ancient legends told of a single man that had returned to the Twelve colonies to tell of his journey to Earth.

"Now we seek the only remaining outpost of our civilization in the hopes that our long lost brethren can assist us in our fight with the Cylon Empire."

"You know, what's interesting here, Jack, is that none of our history tells of any visitors from the stars other than the Goa'uld."

"Ya think? Pierson? Anything you want to add?"

"Maybe. I seem to recall Dad mentioning something about a spaceship filled with refugees crashing in what is now the Sahara. But it's not like I can call up those memories at will. I'll have to think about it some, see if I can remember anything else."

"Right. Daniel? Ya wanna fill them in?"

"Ok then, Commander Apollo. Our own history mentions nothing of any refugees from another world. We have tens of thousands of years of recorded history telling us that mankind evolved on our world. We also have the Goa'uld, who came to our world more than ten millennia ago, who took our ancestors and seeded them throughout the galaxy as slaves for their empire."

"Your world?"

"We are from Earth. Teal'c's people were taken from there millennia ago and forced into slavery on a world called Chulak."

"Earth!?! But you said in our first contact something about a United States?"

"Our world, Earth, is divided into a number of nation states, each of whom would like dominance over the other. But at the moment, we too are fighting a war that losing would mean the extermination of all life on Earth. Our enemy is the Goa'uld, a race of parasites that forcibly take control of a body, in this case mostly human bodies. They first came to Earth more than ten thousand years ago. They came to Earth and assumed the roles of Gods that our primitive ancestors worshipped. The leader of these Goa'uld was Ra, the God of the Sun. Our ancient ancestors were slaves to these Gods. They took thousands of them through a device called a Stargate to thousands of worlds across the galaxies and used them as slaves and as soldiers for their armies. But our ancient ancestors, with the help of a race we call the Ancients, rebelled against the Goa'uld, and kicked them off the planet. They sealed the gate. Ten thousand years later, an expedition of archaeologists found the gate. In a span of only seventy years, we had deciphered the symbols on the gate and re-opened it.

"Our first venture through the gate took us to a planet several million light years from Earth. A planet called Abydos, where, much to our surprise, we encountered inhabitants that were human and that spoke a derivation of an ancient Earth language. But we also found Ra. He told us he had created our world and that he would now destroy it. But we got there first and we destroyed him instead. And inadvertently started a war. We had re-opened our gate. The Goa'uld Hegemony had long thought our world a myth. They were unconcerned with us until we killed their leader. Now they want nothing more than to kill every one of us.

"Now, while I don't know anything about your enemy, the Cylons, I do know that the Goa'uld rule over an empire that spans tens of thousands of worlds. The one advantage we have over the Goa'uld is that their government is a number of fiefdoms, each ruled over by one of the System Lords. And fortunately for us, none of the Goa'uld have ever been able to work with one another long enough to pose a serious threat to our world."

"If you are from Earth, could you show us images? Some sort of proof?"

"I..."

At that moment, an Asgard transporter sprang into life, taking of those in the Commander's quarters to an Asgard ship that had suddenly appeared between the Prometheus and the Galactica. Those aboard the Prometheus, being used to Asgard ships, took no actions. Those aboard the Battlestar, having never seen an Asgard vessel, were struck by the sheer massiveness of the vessel, and began launching fighters.

"I hate when that happens. Thor! Buddy! Good to see you again!"

"It is good to see you as well, O'Neill. Commander Apollo, I presume."

"Who are you? Where are we?"

"I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. You are aboard an Asgard vessel the Samantha Carter."

"The Carter?"

"We named it, Colonel O'Neill, for that member of your team that saved our home world. But do not fear. The O'Neill-A is presently undergoing construction and will join our fleet soon."

"Oh well. In that case. Way to go Carter!"

"Why have you taken us from the Galactica?"

"I have followed the journey of your fleet for a dozen of your yahrens. You have come far. We have observed your race for many tens of thousands of yahrens. We were saddened by the loss of your twelve colonies and we have, from time to time, assisted you in your journey. But now your journey has come to a close. You have found proof that you require, proof that what you seek, exists."

"Thor? Are you saying that their story about refugees is true?"

"Our own ancient records tell of an Asgard observation post on Earth that witnessed a ship crash-landing. The ship that crashed contained within the members of the thirteenth tribe. A Goa'uld patrol spotted the ship as it entered orbit over the Earth and shot at it. The damage caused the ship to enter the atmosphere uncontrolled. Of the thousands of colonists aboard the vessel, only a few hundred survived. With their ship utterly destroyed, the survivors wandered out to seek the inhabitants of primitive Earth. They joined with those inhabitants and over the span of a few generations, all knowledge of their origins was lost."

"Then it is true. There were other visitors to our world?"

"There have been many such visitations in the ten millennia since the Goa'uld resided there."

"Well that's always good to know. Thor? What about these Cylons?"

"A most interesting dilemma, O'Neill. Because Earth is a part of the Protected Planets Treaty, the Goa'uld will not attack you, out of fear that we, the Asgard, will take action against them. There is a standard clause built into the Protected Planets Treaty, however, that states that if anyone else attacks a protected planet, neither the Goa'uld nor the Alliance will attack that person. The Cylon Empire is an unknown quantity in this galaxy. The Asgard High Council has determined there are three possibilities. The first is that the Cylon Empire will attack all races equally in this galaxy, in which case all of the protected planets are in jeopardy. The second is that the Cylon Empire will attack Earth because of the Colonial Fleet, in which case the Goa'uld Hegemony and the Alliance are under obligation to protect Earth. The last possibility is that the Cylon Empire may decide to ally itself with the Goa'uld Hegemony, in which case, the balance of power will have shifted significantly toward the Goa'uld. There are other possibilities, but these three are the most likely."

"These Goa'uld, just how powerful are they?"

"Commander Apollo. The Goa'uld are no match for the Asgard, or for any other member of the Alliance. However, their technology is significantly more advanced than yours in some areas. In fact, the technology of Earth is more advanced in some areas than yours. The Colonies are more advanced in terms of ship building and weapons technology. Earth is more advanced in terms of computing technology and power production. Perhaps if your people choose to settle on Earth, the two peoples will become more powerful. It would bring the Tau'ri one step closer to joining the Alliance. And now, I must leave."

With a flash of light, the Earthers and the Colonials were transported back to Commander Apollo's quarters. In another instant, the Asgard ship had entered hyperspace and vanished.

"Well, that was interesting. Commander Apollo, if I may, I need to get in touch with my superiors to inform them of our contact and to request further instructions. In the meantime, I suggest that we might break up this little group of ours and examine one another's technology? If as Thor suggested that we could learn a lot from one another, then perhaps we should start doing so?"

"Well said Daniel Jackson. But first, a question I may?"

"Sure."

"Why do all of you have two names?"

"There are, as of the most recent census, approximately six billion inhabitants on Earth. We use a first name, generally followed by a last name which is generally the family or clan name. Some even have a middle name, which adds to the diversity of names available. It will probably be one of the minor details that you will have to get used to."

"Six billion? Is there enough room for that many people?"

"More than enough. Our primary concern is in feeding that many people. There are some areas that do not produce as much food as others and there are areas that are relatively unpopulated where others are crowded. Earth has many problems, more so in the simple fact that Earth has many countries, each with its own vision of what should be the future. Therein lies the problem."

"We have much to learn if we are to join your society."

"Carter? Are there any gates near us?"

"Let me check, sir."

The Commander of the Galactica looked on in something akin to wonder as the one called Major Carter pulled out a very thin handheld box and proceeded to use a pen like stylus to tap fairly quickly. Within a few moments she had the information she needed. A gate location. And one they had already examined and declared uninhabited. It was a mere light year away.

"Here sir. Planet P3X-459. Only a light year away."

"What is this device?"

"This? It's a PDA."

"PDA?"

"A Personal Digital Assistant. A very small form of computer."

"A terminal you mean. One that is connected to your ship perhaps?"

"No. It has its own processor and memory. It is not attached to the Prometheus in any way."

"Unbelievable. Our own computron technology takes up vast rooms on the Galactica. I wonder how your portable computron compares to our own large ones?"

"We could find out. Marco? That's more your field of expertise I believe."

"So it is."

"Sounds like a plan. Commander, with your permission, we need to move to the co-ordinates Carter dug out of her PDA. Then we'll go down to the planet and make contact with Earth via the gate."

"Why not just go to Earth?"

"Earth is approximately thirty five hundred light years distant. With the gate only a light year away, we can contact Earth, and prepare her for the news."

"Thirty five hundred light years? That would take us several yahrens to cross that distance!"

"Only took us about three and a half hours."

"Even at light speed, you could not move that fast!"

"While our engines are capable of moving us at speeds greater than light, what they are designed for is the creation of an entrance into hyperspace, where distances are much shorter. We use hyperspace as a shortcut to get to where we want in a hurry."

"The colonies abandoned hyperspace travel long ago as unworkable. We could not develop a power source to power such a thing. But obviously you have. Let us move to this planet where your gate is located and contact Earth. Until then, you may stay here and we can become better acquainted."

"I think that would be good. I need to contact my ship."

"Of course."

----------------------------------------

"O'Neill? Everything ok?"

"Everything's a-okay, Victor. Carter's got some co-ordinates for you. We're moving the fleet to that location. Once there, scramble all fighters. Put one flight out at the limit of the scanners just to make sure that we're neither disturbed nor discovered. Keep the other two close by, just in case. Load them out with the biggest weapons we got. I'm going to ask our new friends for assistance with those patrols."

"Roger that sir. Powering engines now."

"Ok people, you heard the man. Weps, power everything up. Science, keep your eyes peeled. SG units 3, 9, 19, and 20, report to the briefing room. XO, you have the con."

"Aye sir, XO's con."

"What's up Commander?"

"Not sure. We're making for a nearby planet with a gate. Prometheus will stay in orbit to provide cover. I want you folks down on the ground to secure the gate. As soon as we get into orbit, we're launching everything we have. Colonel's orders. All I can tell you is that the fleet out there off the starboard side, well, they're friendly. Seems that they are long lost 'cousins' of ours. They claimed Earth is a lost colony of theirs."

"I doubt that very much, Commander Hawkes. But we will err on the side of caution. Strike teams, get geared up. Major Ferretti? How do you want us deployed?"

"Let's set up three defensive perimeters around the gate. SG-9 is a diplomatic unit. I'd like the strike teams on the two outer perimeters with 9 and 3 on the inner perimeter. Claymores and trip wires. What do you think Commander?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. I think we have a couple of mini-guns in stores. Take those. They do their job quite well."

"I bet they do!"

"Ok, people. Gear up! Be ready to move in thirty mikes!"

----------------------------------------

Aboard the Galactica, Colonel Athena had given out similar orders. Red and Blue squadrons would be deployed as soon as they entered the system where this 'Gate equipped planet was located. Silver and Gold Spar squadrons would be deployed closer to the fleet. The Viper Duet squadrons would be deployed with the cruisers to lend fire support to the Viper squadrons and to the fighter squadron from the Prometheus.

Shortly after they entered the system, the planetary scans revealed extensive deposits of tylium on the planet. Orders were given to mine as much as possible from the planet while securing the system.

Prometheus landed, deployed her teams and their gear, and then entered orbit and deployed her fighters. Raptor flight was joined shortly after launch by Red squadron from the Galactica and together they proceeded to the edge of the system and stopped dead in space. They stopped to conserve power and to maximize their scanning capability. It gave each pilot the opportunity to examine, at least visually, the fighters of their lost brethren. The pilots from the Galactica were of the same opinion. The fighters from Earth were strange looking. They looked like triangles; pointed at the fore end and wide and somewhat thick aft. The wings were rounded and it did not look anything like their own fighters. There were objects hanging down from the wings, the purpose of which they could not at all determine.

On the other hand, the Earth pilots were looking at the Vipers with something akin to awe. An elongated cylinder with three short wings in a delta-like pattern on the after end. Three engines and what looked like a gun barrel on each of the two lower wings near to where they joined the fuselage. Each of the Earth pilots was of the same mind and they all were wondering the same thing; which was better? The Viper or the F-302?

The F-302 had one major advantage in that it used a smaller version of the naquadah generator to provide power for all of its systems, including the engines. The Viper used a fuel derived from tylium, which meant that the range of the fighter depended on how long the engines were in use. The drawback was that the Viper could fly conventionally faster, but not as long as the F-302. In the event the F-302 needed a power boost, raw hydrogen was pumped into the after-part of the engine. The resulting explosion propelled the fighter faster than even a Viper. It was like an afterburner on a terrestrial fighter, with one good thing about that; the hydrogen was picked up from space itself, and as such the fuel for the afterburner could be recharged slowly over time or quickly aboard the Prometheus.

Two-plus hours into the patrol, Raptor 4, picked up something on his long range LIDAR scanner.

"Base, Raptor 4. I've got a target in hyperspace moving into the system. Target is big, probably Ha'tak class. Recommend you go to full alert."

"Roger that. All fighters, prepare to engage target. Break. Galactica control, we have a large enemy cruiser coming into the system. Our remaining fighters are moving to intercept now. Recommend you do the same."

"Thank you Prometheus. We do not see any ships on our scanners."

The Ha'tak-class Goa'uld cruiser came out of hyperspace, and approached the planet with the gate. They had come on a survey mission to examine ancient records of naquadah and trinium deposits. The Tau'ri slaves that Heru'ur had brought to this world had long ago died off of unknown causes. But according to the records, the deposits had never been mined at all. As they emerged from hyperspace, the Jaffa on the pel'tac saw the Prometheus in orbit and notified his God, Lord Zipacna, of the presence of the Tau'ri.

"Jaffa, kree! Launch all of the Udajeet! Kill the Tau'ri!"

Raptor flight, with Galactica's Red squadron, were racing in from the outer system to engage the death gliders, but they would not arrive in time to fire the opening salvos. Those would belong to Kestrel and Hawk flights. The two squadrons from the Galactica, Blue and Silver Spar, would arrive at approximately the same time as those from the outer reaches of the system.

The six fighters of Kestrel flight fired first, loosing a pair of missiles each. The missiles were re-designed AIM-54C Phoenix class weapons. The range had been extended now that there was no resistance from an atmosphere to a distance of three hundred and fifty miles, a mere fifteen seconds of travel in space. With their longest range missile flying fast towards their targets, the fighters of Kestrel flight broke up into fighting duos, the better to utilize the mid-range cover fire of the rail guns. A few seconds after Kestrel loosed those missiles, the six fighters of Hawk flight loosed their own volleys. But instead of breaking up into pairs, the six fighters stayed together and blew straight through the advancing death gliders on full afterburners. They were attempting to close quickly on the Ha'tak in order to use their naquadah enhanced AGM-84 Harpoon missiles.

With the Harpoons on their way, the fighters in Hawk flight broke into pairs and raced back to friendly cover. The Phoenix missiles did as they were designed and fully half of the Udajeet fighters were lost in quick fiery explosions. More death gliders could be seen in the distance, launching from the Ha'tak cruiser. But now the Harpoons were approaching to striking distance. The first six impacted on one section of the shields with the next six impacting an adjoining section. The shields in two sections had been weakened, but had not fallen.

As the fighters from the Galactica and the fighters from the long range patrols joined in the fray, the Prometheus moved up to take care of the Ha'tak. As soon as they came into range, the rail guns began firing at the cruiser, followed shortly by the plasma cannons. The shields on the Prometheus were far greater than even those of the Ha'tak, and even with full power shots from the Ha'tak's plasma cannons, the shields on the Prometheus never faltered. Naquadah coated steel shells flew in to their target at five times the speed of sound. The rail guns were firing quickly, but were draining the capacitors too quickly.

The shields on the Ha'tak fell and the Prometheus now let loose a salvo of five standard AGM-119 Penguin anti-ship missiles, followed a second later by a second salvo and then a third. The Ha'tak trembled with the impacts of multiple missiles. These were not enhanced with naquadah and were being used to bring down the generators and the pel'tac. The Ha'tak was now adrift. The death gliders were gone. Prometheus launched all of her shuttles down to the surface to pick up the SG teams. They would go in to the Ha'tak to recover weapons and any survivors.

Ten minutes later, the shuttles docked with the Ha'tak cruiser and disgorged the strike teams. SG 19 and 20 moved out quickly, leaving SG-3 to secure the landing bay. Not more than five minutes later, they were joined by a shuttle from the Galactica carrying a phalanx of Colonial warriors. The two groups secured the landing bay while the other two strike teams continued with their mission. In a matter of thirty minutes, a dozen survivors had been rounded up and secured as prisoners. The bridge of the Ha'tak, or pel'tac, was open to space, having been the recipient of three Penguin missiles.

Inside the living quarters of the Ha'tak, they found a sarcophagus and within that unit they found Lord Zipacna, looking none the worse for wear, though his clothes were a bit on the ratty side; evidence of several bloody holes resulting from one of the Penguin hits. In a cargo bay, they found several dozen crates filled with staff weapons and Zat'ni'katel hand guns.

With Zipacna as a prisoner, and with his few remaining Jaffa also as prisoners, the strike teams returned to the landing bay. Squad leader Phillipson made his report to Major Ferretti.

"Sir! We have captured one dozen Jaffa and one Goa'uld; Lord Zipacna. We have also recovered several dozen crates of staff weapons, zat guns, and two functional sarcophagi. There was also a full load of naquadah and trinium in a second cargo bay. The engine room is intact."

"Very good, Phillipson. Secure the prisoners in the shuttle. I'll pass the good news to O'Neill."

"Yes sir!"

"Jack. The Ha'tak is ours. We've got a dozen Jaffa prisoners. And one very pissed off Goa'uld."

"Which Goa'uld would that be Ferretti?"

"In a word, Zippy."

"Yes!"

"Better news Jack. We've got cargo bays filled with naquadah and trinium, along with staff weapons and zat guns and two sarcophagi for Fraiser and Carter to play with."

"Sweet! Bring the prisoners down to the planet. We'll contact the Tok'ra and get them to take Zippy and his pals off our hands. I'm headed down there now to contact the SGC."

"Roger that."

----------------------------------------

Planet P3X-459

"Daniel, dial home would ya?"

"I bet General Hammond is gonna love this."

"Ya think?"

At the SGC, the alert klaxons resounded with the news of an off-world activation. By the time General Hammond entered the control room, the GDO code belonging to SG-1 had been received.

"Sierra Golf Command, this is Sierra Golf one actual. How copy over?"

"Read you five by five. Go ahead."

"General Hammond?"

"Problems Jack?"

"Yes and no, sir. The good news is that we've made first contact with another race out here. A very powerful race. Better yet, they were looking for us. They believe we are their long lost brothers."

"I see."

"We also ran into Zippy in a Ha'tak. Prometheus and her fighters performed admirably. We have captured Zippy and a dozen or so Jaffa along with what's left of his mothership."

"Excellent work, Colonel! What do you need from me?"

"A full diplomatic team would be good."

"Done. Anything else?"

"We want to set up a temporary base here to conduct preliminary negotiations with these Colonials. We'll need something to do that with. Also, we need some heavy duty backup here. Where there's one mothership, there might be others. And we need to contact the Tok'ra so they can take Zippy and his pals off our hands."

"Understood Colonel."

"Sir, once we get the mothership into a stable orbit, we'll begin transporting its cargo down to the surface for transport back through the gate. Once we've stripped everything possible, we'll tow what's left back to Earth for disassembly."

"Belay the towing, Jack. We've finished construction on another Prometheus-class battlecruiser. The staff that Doctor Ramos left behind created several dozen of what they call CMUs and have completed construction of the cruiser and a full compliment of fighters and shuttles. They tell me work is proceeding on three additional battlecruisers."

"That's the best news I've heard yet, sir! What's the name on the new ship, sir?"

"Daedalus. The other two are as yet unnamed."

"More Greek names General?"

"It will be the last one with a Greek name. The Joint Chiefs will decide on the three other names."

"Of course sir. I'm going to close the gate down so you can start sending the equipment through."

"Expect the first shipment within the hour Colonel."

"Yes sir."

----------------------------------------

It was approximately eight hours later that an encampment had been completed. There were rings of portable anti-aircraft weapons around the perimeter, including Stingers for short range and Hawks for longer range engagements, interspersed with OCSWs amongst those emplacements. General Hammond had contacted the Colonel to inform him of the impending arrival of a full diplomatic team with representatives of the Russian Confederation, the United Kingdom, the Republic of China and France; the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. The diplomatic team was due to arrive within the hour.

On the Galactica, Commander Apollo had briefed the ruling Quorum of Twelve, and they had chosen a small contingent to meet with the Earth representatives on the planet below. Majors Carter and Ramos had gone over the engines on the Galactica and found, to their surprise, that it would be a simple matter of adding a hyperspace generator to the Battlestar. All they needed to do so would be a large number of such generators.

There was no indication as to how long the diplomatic negotiations would last. With that in mind, Commander Apollo ordered a number of shuttles from the Agro ships down to the planet to collect food stuffs. When Colonel O'Neill learned of that order, he requested food shipments from Earth.

"Commander Apollo. I understand you have shuttles down on the surface collecting food?"

"We take every opportunity we can to supplement our diets with food grown on a planet. It's just a different taste."

"I thought as much. Which is why I've put in a request for a supplemental food shipment from Earth. Fresh fruits and vegetables, and an assortment of meats, should begin arriving shortly."

"I thank you Colonel."

"Jack. Call me Jack."

"Only if you call me Apollo."

"Deal."

A pair of hours later, several dozen pallets of fresh fruits, vegetables and other food-stuffs had come through the gate, along with two of the best chefs in the Air Force to prepare a series of special meals for the Colonials and the diplomatic teams. A selection of traditional Earth dishes were their marching orders. Shortly thereafter, the diplomats began arriving. The British Ambassador arrived with a select squad of British SAS. The French Ambassador came through the gate with a mixed squad of DGSE and Foreign Legion troopers. Colonel Chekov, the Russian representative to the American Stargate program, arrived with one of the three Russian Stargate teams that had been assigned to the SGC. The Chinese Ambassador was the last to arrive, with an entourage of Chinese special forces troopers. Remembering that the last meeting with these gentlemen had been less than sterling, General Hammond had relayed very specific orders to Jack O'Neill.

The diplomatic meetings were due to begin within the hour. But first there would be a quick briefing by SG-1 to the diplomats from Earth.

"Gentlemen. First of all, allow me to welcome you to planet P3X-459. There are a dozen SG teams here to insure your safety as well as your own security personnel. Additionally, the battlecruiser USAF Prometheus is in orbit over this world and her fighters are in space patrolling all approaches to this system. An additional battlecruiser, the USAF Daedalus is enroute from Earth. So as you may have guessed, we have worked out most of the bugs with the battlecruiser and with the space superiority fighters. Why do I tell you this? Because our goal is to defend Earth. Eventually, I would like to see teams made up from each of your countries at the SGC, but for now, we need fighter pilots to help defend Earth.

"We have a full fifteen squadrons under construction at the moment. They will be based at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado, near the SGC, until we have completed construction of additional battlecruisers. But I digress. Prometheus came out here to conduct flight trials. We wanted to test all our systems, both on the cruiser as well as in our fighters. But instead of testing, we encountered another space fairing race. One, I might add, that is very interested in negotiating a treaty with us. We also encountered one Goa'uld Ha'tak-class mothership, which, I'm delighted to add, has been captured. The Goa'uld commanding the ship, Zipacna, was also captured and is currently being held under guard here on the planet. We are awaiting a representative from the Tok'ra Council to arrive and take control of the prisoner. The Prometheus is now tried and true in battle. It took little effort to disable and then capture the Ha'tak. Any questions before I continue?"

"You say, Colonel O'Neill, that you have captured a Ha'tak intact?"

"Yes, that is mostly correct. We were forced to disable the shield generators and the engines. There is a repair crew aboard now attempting to effect critical repairs. Otherwise, we will tow the ship into orbit around the dark side of the moon."

"I see. And this other race you mentioned?"

"They are a space fairing race. From what we have gathered so far, they have had space travel for several thousand years. But in some areas, notably computing and shield technologies, they are at least a hundred years behind us. They are human, and they are seeking a world to colonize or barring that, they may seek to move in with us, as it were."

"They wish to come to Earth?"

"That is correct Ambassador Chen. They believe us to be a long lost colony of theirs. Some information has come to light in recent days which indicates that their reasoning may not be all that incorrect. Apparently, some ten thousand years ago, a ship came to Earth. It was not a Goa'uld ship, however, and the Goa'uld shot it down. It apparently was this long lost colony ship. The survivors from the crashed ship, unable to utilize any of their technology, integrated themselves with existing civilizations on Earth. So we may indeed share a common ancestry with these newcomers. There is another thing you must understand before you meet them. Whereas each of us has at least two names, a first name and a family name, the newcomers do not share that tradition. They use a first name only; no trace that we have discovered of any usage of familial names."

"How very odd."

"On that I agree Ambassador Lord White."

----------------------------------------

An hour later, a trio of shuttles from the Galactica made their approach to the planet. The SGC had prepared an arrivals area for the dignitaries. Over a number of strategically placed loud speakers, a selection of regal-sounding music was playing, not so loud as to disturb the speech making that was sure to come, but loudly enough to be heard. An honour guard had been hastily put together from the security personnel the Ambassadors had brought to the planet. They now stood at parade rest, each holding a flag of their respective nations.

"Honour guard, A-Ten-Shun!"

Three Galactican shuttles touched down next to the reception area. From one shuttle came a score of Colonial Warriors, to add to the security forces already present on the planet. From the second came Commander Apollo and his command staff, made up of Colonel Athena, Majors Boomer and Sheba, Captain Starbuck, and Doctor Cassiopeia. From the third shuttle came forth President Tigh and the members of the Council of Twelve.

From a short distance away, Methos and a number of the more ancient Immortals stood by, watching the proceedings silently. Marco, Ramirez, Cierdwyn, and Alex joined him, and above him floated Tok'Ra, watching two of his special interests come together. Many millennia ago he had watched helplessly as the craft carrying the members of the Thirteenth tribe crashed into what is now called North Africa, near present day Egypt. Curious as to their origins, he had moved without effort through space to their point of origin, the planet called Kobol. He could see evidence of a number of other ship trails and these he followed to the Twelve colony worlds. Curious about them, he fashioned a number of probes which he hid in a convenient dimension not visible to anyone except another Ancient. From time to time he checked on the knowledge contained within the probes and saw as the colony worlds expanded and ventured into space once again. He saw as they made contact with a reptilian race calling themselves Cylons. He saw as they entered in to a millennia long war that raged across many systems until their own twelve primary worlds were destroyed.

He knew that some of his fellow Ancients had chosen to interfere with their plight. He knew the one that called himself John, the one that had spoken on several occasions to Apollo. He knew of the one called Iblis that had attempted to take the Colonial refugees as worshippers. His was a sad case. He was one of the Ascendants, not a true Ancient, but was recognized as such by the others. They chose to try and correct his efforts towards evil. Even among the Ancients, there was a capacity towards evil.

A few dozen yards away, the Colonials and the Earthers had finished their initial greetings and were moving towards the large tent that had been set up for the diplomatic proceedings. Methos and his companions moved towards the tent and took seats along the outer periphery. Tok'Ra also entered the tent only to find John floating near the Colonials.

"John. It's been a long time."

"Tok'Ra, what is time to beings such as us?"

"True, but it has still been a few centuries since I last saw you and the others on that Ship of Lights of yours. Is Iblis still mad over that prison thing?"

"Unfortunately yes. He is even more angered now. Apollo sacrificed himself so that Iblis would not take the one called Sheba from him. Because of the sacrifice, we interfered and forced Iblis away from the refugees. But he still wants them. I'm afraid for them if they fall under his influence again."

"If Iblis comes to Earth, he'll no doubt run into my son and his friends."

"Your son? Ah, yes. I remember him now. He still lives?"

"He's sitting in the back, watching the proceedings."

"Yes! I see him. And so many others that also possess the Quickening energies? How can that be?"

"An experiment conducted by myself and a few select others. Trying to create a race of humans with the potential to develop into Ancients like ourselves. But somewhere along the way, that experiment was corrupted. Some mortal somewhere in time spread a rumour that the last Immortal alive on the planet would get some nebulous prize and so they go around trying to cut each others heads off. Such a waste. But many have survived millennia of life and if they are to advance to the next level of existence, then they must survive several more millennia."

"You always were the ambitious one."

"A bold plan that must work, I'm afraid."

"Yes. It must. Our race is not getting any younger and I'm afraid my brethren on the Ship have lost their way. They no longer seek to guide the Colonials. They wish only to declare war on Iblis."

"That is not good."

"No. And I am becoming unable to convince them otherwise."

"Perhaps this new alliance can help hold them off for now?"

"Perhaps. I shall inform them."

"Do that. In the meantime, I think I will converse with my son. I will see you soon, yes?"

"Now that my charges have met your charges, I'm sure that we will see one another again."

Methos saw his father while he conversed with the other Ancient. The strength of his own Quickening allowed him to see the two Ancients and it made him wonder about the other one. He seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not place the face. Then the other one left, and Tok'Ra floated over to Methos. The other elder Immortals around Methos felt the approach of an immensely powerful Quickening, but among them, only Ramirez recognized the source. In the next instant, time appeared to have stopped for the non-Immortals in the room. Tok'Ra was manipulating the flow of time.

"Playing with time again, eh Dad?"

"Just for a few moments, my son. What needs to be said to you must also be said to all of your Immortal companions. Please call of them to the area outside the tent. Son, please bring O'Neill outside as well. I will release him from temporal stasis."

"Sure, dad."

A moment or two later, the area outside the main diplomatic tent was filled with the two Immortal strike teams, Methos and Marco.

"I have called you all together to properly introduce myself. I am Tok'Ra, Elder of the Ancients, and father-creator to all of you. It was a touch of my Quickening energies that gave all of you Immortality. It is that touch that will, in the fullness of time, allow you to transcend the corporeal plane to a state and level like mine. But for now, there is a rather serious problem. Millennia ago, an evil mortal used science and technology to ascend to the plane of the Ancients. The rest of us gave him credit for his ingenuity and recognized him as one of our own before realizing his evil nature. Now he threatens not only the Colonials, but also Earth and all of the other human inhabited worlds. It will take all of your combined talents to defeat him."

"What about the Goa'uld?"

"If Iblis joins together with them, the Goa'uld Hegemony will be unstoppable. He will do what no other Goa'uld has been able to do since Ra. He will unite them into one force."

"That would not be a good thing."

"No, O'Neill, it would not. You and my son have already been to one of the intergalactic conferences. I propose organizing a new one as soon as possible to deal with this new threat. My son, my recommendation to you is to summon all of the Immortals together. Form a ruling council. This war between the mortals and the Goa'uld has now grown larger. It now affects all on your world."

"What of the Game? A gathering such as you suggest would trigger the Game, would it not?"

"The Game is a lie. Created by a mortal with too much time and too little to do and too much knowledge of your kind. If the others do not believe you, perhaps they will believe me. You can sense it in my Quickening. I am far older than all of you combined."

"I, for one, believe your father, Revered One."

"Ramirez, you of all people should not call me Revered One."

"I give titles where they are deserved, Methos."

"Fine. Father, perhaps we should make sure that the Colonials and the Earth diplomats sign an agreement?"

"Yes, I think that would be best."

It was as if nothing had happened. Time resumed its march forward. Within the tent, the Colonial President had concluded his remarks and now the task of negotiating a mutual defence alliance was beginning in earnest. Tok'Ra floated into the tent, making himself visible as a mass of shapeless energy. All around the tent security forces were quick to raise weapons.

Weapons were still aimed at Tok'Ra until Colonel O'Neill intervened and ordered the weapons lowered.

"Lower your weapons! As you were! He's an ally!"

"I thank you for your concern over my wellbeing Colonel, but your weapons cannot possibly harm me. I bring you information for your pending alliance."

"I know your kind! You are from the Ship of Lights?"

"No Apollo, I am not. I do know, however, of the Ship of Lights, and I consider John a brother. His kind and my kind are the same; we are all of the race known as the Ancients. Some tens of millennia ago, my race was allied with three other races. The Alliance was created to act as shepherds to the younger races. We failed. We were betrayed. Take your pick. The truth is that you younger races have come far with only minimal interference on our part.

"President Tigh, Commander Apollo. I offer you the use of my base on the planet called Mars in the Sol system. The members of the Earth command known as the SGC may also use the base there along with the combat stations buried within Phobos and Deimos. Colonel O'Neill, you have already been aboard one of my combat stations. Would it surprise you to know that there are dozens of such stations hidden within the asteroid belt of your home system?"

"When it comes to you Tok'Ra, nothing surprises me anymore."

"Well put, Colonel. It is time, I believe, for the people of Earth to put aside their petty squabbles and act as one. Each member of a foreign government here, those of you in the so called Security Council are each thinking how you can get your hands on Colonial technology or Ancient technology and how you can put it to use in your governments. No. If any of your governments use any of these technologies against the other, the repercussions will be severe. I propose a treaty amongst yourselves, to be signed by week's end, binding each of you. Binding you to come together and deal with any one of you that misuses the power you will gain. It is my suggestion that an impartial group take control of the technologies in question. A group to be headed by my son, Methos."

"And how do we can trust that your son will be impartial?"

"He is a citizen of your world, Ambassador Lord White. While I have not always been there for my son, particularly when he obviously needed a guiding hand, I have always looked out for him. I believe he fought in the American Revolution, against your forces, but later served with your forces during your Second World War as a code breaker. He was with the French resistance movement in your First World War and was in China during your Revolution. He is as much a citizen of any of your nations as he is of Earth. The same can be said for his companions."

"That's preposterous! Your son would have to be over three centuries old to have done all of that!"

"Actually Mr. Ambassador, I am just over ten millennia in age. And I agree with my father on principle. Who better to administer the trust of the Ancient's technologies than the oldest inhabitants on the planet? The ones who have seen, time and again, what you short-lived mortals can get up to."

"I agree with Captain Pierson. As another long time resident of the planet, I think the idea raised by Tok'Ra is as near a perfect solution as possible. With the limitations placed on Earth by the Protected Planets Treaty, clause 10851, as signed by the Asgard and the Goa'uld, it is as perfect as possible."

"Well spoken Marco!"

"Coming from you, Ramirez, old friend, that is high praise indeed!"

"Are you telling me that there are inhabitants on Earth that are, shall I say, very long lived?"

"Ambassador Chen, more so than anyone else on Earth, we Immortals are citizens of Earth, as we have, at some point in time, lived in nearly every part of the world. And we may someday ascend to become Ancients, many thousands of years hence."

To say that the assembled dignitaries were a bit on the stunned side would be to say that the sky is blue or that water is wet. Stunned they were by the revelations that there were beings on Earth that were centuries old or even millennia old. They soon found that the youngest Immortal on the strike teams was the younger MacLeod who came in at just over four hundred. The oldest was Pierson at ten thousand. But the second oldest was Ramirez at thirty-eight hundred, followed closely by Ptahsennes at thirty-seven fifty. Marco Ramos was a mere twenty-six hundred.

He had been born two and a half millennia before in what was then the Roman Empire. His first death was on a battlefield in Spain. He awoke in a shallow grave and after digging through the moist soil to the surface, he saw the man who would become his teacher standing over him.

The Ambassadors present had recovered from their shock somewhat. The news was sinking in that they were not the only species on the planet. Furthermore, Tok'Ra told them that without doubt, Immortality could not be transferred from one person to another. Any experimentation done by any nation on an Immortal would bring down the wrath of the Ancients on that nation. It was a sobering thought and an even more sobering moment for the assembled dignitaries.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am presenting you with a draft resolution that covers an alliance between the Ancients and the peoples of Earth and the descendants of Kobol. A proposal that calls for a council of Immortals to oversee the distribution of Ancients technology. Among those technologies are cures for various diseases and methods for producing clean power. Any attempt detected by the Immortal Council to use those technologies for ill will result in an immediate revocation of said technologies. Understand this people, the threat of an alliance between Iblis and the Goa'uld Hegemony is real. The Asgard are forbidden by treaty from interfering with the normal technological progression of Earth. The Protected Planets Treaty prevents the Goa'uld from attacking Earth out of fear of reprisals by the Asgard. It does not prevent a Goa'uld, outside of the Hegemony, from attacking Earth. Furthermore, if any member of the SGC is caught off-world, then it's a bad thing. The Asgard are forbidden from interfering. The Asgard are kind and benevolent, but even they can not be everywhere at once. They are fighting a war of their own in their home galaxy."

"You have given us much to think about. I think we should retire for the day and contemplate these issues."

"A most excellent suggestion Colonel Chekov. We shall retire for three days to contemplate these events. Then reassemble and work out this new treaty."

"Gentlemen, please. We can work out all the treaties we like, but what will our governments say? Ambassadors, tell me honestly, even if you can convince your leaders of the need for this treaty, each of us know that such a treaty must be ratified by our representative bodies and by the United Nations as a whole. Each of us know how difficult that last part can be."

"No more so true than in the United States, eh Ambassador Richards?"

"I admit that our Senate may decide not to ratify the treaty, even though both myself and odds are, the President will recommend passage. The one thing in our favour is that the entire Senate, nay, the entire Congress has only recently been replaced. I believe President Ryan can convince the Senate to ratify the treaty."

"President Sir John is a formidable man. I for one would not wish to stand against him."

"Nor would I. Let us adjourn, as Ambassador Chen has suggested, for a period of three days. Then with renewed vigour shall we draft this treaty."

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In another tent, the Immortals were discussing something of great importance to them.

"You're saying, Methos, that your father told them about us? We'll be hunted!"

"No. We won't. Actually, the treaty that he proposes calls upon all nations that are party to the treaty to protect us as 'planetary resources'. If a nation that did not sign the treaty takes one or more of us, the signatory nations must do everything in their power to retrieve us. We will also be granted diplomatic passports with no expiration date, with the condition that if one of us breaks one of their laws, then we will deal with the miscreant."

"And with a number of us serving on the strike teams, the odds that one of us present here will break a law or commit a crime is fairly low. So the task that is before us then is to figure out another thing Tok'Ra proposed and that is the formation of an Immortal Council. I won't pretend to say that it will be an easy thing. Those of us here are probably the more stable of our kind. We have, for the most part, outgrown the need to hunt for heads. Unfortunately there are too many others who have yet to realize the truth. Any ideas on how to do this?"

"Maybe. Methos, what were to happen if we asked for a Gathering? On holy ground?"

"Alex, none of us have felt that inexplicable pull for a Gathering. Father? Is it possible to trigger something along those lines?"

"Listen all of you. While there is no truth whatsoever to the Game or the Prize, there is truth in the Gathering. In the same way you can tell when another of your kind is near, the Gathering is triggered when an Immortal of significant power shows himself to the world. In your case, no such Immortal exists. It may be possible to trigger a gathering under two possible cases. One, if all of the oldest Immortals on your world were to gather together and release their signatures as one, it may be theoretically possible to trigger the Gathering. And no, I do not mean taking a head. All of you know to some extent how to tone down your Quickening so as not to appear so old to an unknown Immortal. For this I would recommend Immortals that have passed at a bare minimum, the one millennia mark, but it would be better to be at least two millennia in age."

"Well that limits things quite a bit. What is the second option?"

"Two, I can release the full power of my Quickening. It alone would trigger the Gathering. And yes my son, I could do this for you, but perhaps it would be better for everyone concerned if I don't reveal myself too soon."

"Ok. Let's look at the first option father, and let us determine if we have enough 'power' for lack of a better term, to unleash a Gathering?"

"Very well my son."

It took but a few moments to gather the names on the list.

"Father, we've come up with twelve names. The top group is over two millennia, the second group is between one and two millennia, and the last group is less than one thousand years in approximate age. In the first group we have Ramirez, Ptahsennes, Alex, Cassandra, Marco, and myself. In the second group, we have Amanda and Cierdwyn. In the final group we have the MacLeods and the de Valicourts. Do we have enough?"

"No my son. I'm afraid you do not. In three of your days, the Ambassadors will meet to discuss the treaties. A day later, I will move all of the ships in orbit above to an orbit over Mars."

"Wh? Uhm, you can move the entire fleet?"

"The small ships can be sent through the CombatGate. The three larger Battlestars will be moved via a wormhole. I have the ability to create a stable wormhole anytime I so desire. When you are old enough my son, that ability will manifest itself in you. Perhaps in another five thousand years or so."

"Gee, thanks dad." Said Methos with a smirk on his face.

----------------------------------------

Three days passed quickly and the Ambassadors reassembled to consider the matter of the two treaties. After several hours of discussions and arguments, the Ambassadors had hammered out a preliminary treaty that their governments would refine. An hour later, the Ambassadors and their security teams had returned through the gate to the SGC. Four hours after the last Ambassador had departed, and the extra security teams had either returned to the SGC, or had ringed aboard either the Prometheus or the Daedalus.

The smaller ships, including the two USAF battlecruisers, lined up with the Daedalus at the lead, and the Prometheus bringing up the rear to enter the CombatGate. Travel via the CombatGate took less than ten seconds. As the Daedalus was the first to go through the gate, it launched its compliment of fighters. The fighters broke into pairs and marshalled the incoming fleet into parking orbits as quickly as was possible. When the Prometheus arrived, it too launched its fighters. However, instead of marshalling the fleet, the fighters raced to the outer limits of the solar system and began laying down a series of early warning satellites. The satellites had been a gift from the Colonials.

Prometheus came down into the Martian atmosphere and transmitted a code over the frequency Tok'Ra had given to SG-1. From beneath the Martian surface a tower came up. It had lain in a sheltered silo for more than twenty millennia, but now it was active. With its activation, a series of smaller towers emerged that indicated the perimeter of the hangar bays for the base itself. As the base was activated, Zero Point Energy generators deep within the planet's crust began once again providing massive amounts of electrical power for the base. With a bit of manipulation of time-space, Tok'Ra refilled the store rooms of the base with fresh supplies taken from various parts of Earth. While all of this was going on, Ambassador Ernest Richards was meeting with President John Patrick Ryan.

"Mr. President."

"Ernest. You have news?"

"I do sir. Mr. President, Jack, what I am about to tell you is something so fantastic, that I'm not even sure where to begin."

"The beginning is always a good place, Ernest."

"Sir. Perhaps it would be best if you called in the senior staff, and the cabinet. I'm not sure how many times I can tell this story."

"Very well. Arnie? Make the calls."

"Of course, Jack."

"Sir, if I may suggest also that Major Paul Davis be brought in? He knows a lot more about the situation in general than I do."

"Arnie?"

"On it sir."

Fifteen minutes later, the majority of the cabinet and the senior staff had filed into the situation room. Ten minutes after that, Major Davis arrived from the Pentagon. He began the briefing with a history lesson. With the exception of President Ryan, Vice-President Jackson, and Secretary Bretano, the others in the room had no clue as the nature of the briefing. In addition to the National Security Advisor, Dr. Ben Goodley, the Foleys of the CIA, and Brigadier General John Clark of the organization known as Rainbow were present.

"Gentlemen, Ladies. The information I am about to give you is classified Code Word extreme secret. In 1928, an archaeological expedition to the Giza plateau uncovered a large ring object that had been buried for at least ten thousand years under a large cover stone. The large ring was actually made up of two rings, one within the other. On the outer ring is a series of nine chevrons spaced evenly about the circumference. The inner ring, or inner track, has thirty-nine symbols engraved onto it.

"The ring was transported to the United States where for some seven decades, it was experimented on by at first the US Army and later by the US Air Force. Seven decades with no luck at all in deciphering the inscriptions on the cover stone or on the inner track of the device. Then, in 1994, the then project head Dr. Catherine Langford brought in a young scientist to the project. That man was Dr. Daniel Jackson. He did in two weeks what seventy years of scientists and linguists could not do. He not only translated the cover stone, but he also deciphered the symbols on the inner track.

"The result was a covert mission through what Dr. Jackson called the Stargate, to a world on the opposite side of our galaxy called Abydos. Their objective was to discover any potential threats to Earth and if found, to detonate a nuclear device on the other side. They did discover a threat to Earth and after a series of firefights during which several US soldiers lost their lives, that threat was neutralized.

"The threat they discovered is known as the Goa'uld. At the time, we thought the one Goa'uld they found on Abydos was the only one. So the Special Forces team returned to Earth, leaving Dr. Jackson behind on Abydos. On Earth, the project was shut down for close to two years before the gate was opened from off-world. Whereas we had assumed that the gate only went to one planet, in actuality it goes to thousands upon thousands of planets. And unfortunately with the death of that first Goa'uld on Abydos, we, the United States, and Earth in general made a very dangerous enemy. An enemy that initially wanted nothing more than to forget all about Earth, but now want nothing more than to utterly destroy our world."

"Good God!"

"Actually Mr. Secretary, the Goa'uld believe they are Gods and as such they have the right to do with us as they please. They see us as nothing more than slaves and potential hosts for more of their kind. In response to the re-opening of the gate, the Air Force re-activated the command facility that the gate had been housed in.

"Located beneath the NORAD complex, Stargate Command, or SGC, is our first line of defence against the Goa'uld. In the seven years that the SGC has been active, they have been responsible for the deaths of seven major Goa'uld system lords and several more minor Goa'uld. They have also helped to broker several treaties with off-world allies, including the Tok'ra, the Tollan, and the Asgard. There are also several dozen minor trade treaties in place with a number of worlds. There have been several advances in our technology as a result of our various travels through the Gate."

"What sort of advances?"

"We now have, as a result of research done into alien technologies, two battlecruisers in operation. Both ships are fully operational and are currently in orbit. Both ships are also home to eighteen fighters each of endo/exo atmospheric fighters and four surface to orbit shuttles per vessel. The two ships in question can land on a planet and are fully stealthed. Additionally, both ships possess a cloaking system that renders them invisible to the naked eye. There are also advances on the medical front as a result of captured Goa'uld technology, not the least of which is called a 'Hand Device', that when worn by a person that has a substance called naquadah in their blood stream, can be used to heal a person. This particular mineral is the basic building block of all Goa'uld technology. It is the quartz-like metallic mineral that makes up the Stargate. When used in accompaniment to an explosive, it increases the explosive power of the device by one thousand times. In more general terms, that means that a one kiloton bomb that has been enhanced with naquadah becomes a one megaton explosive device. More to the point, is that when naquadah is mixed with any form of radioactive material, the explosive force is multiplied by several orders of magnitude.

"After one of our SG teams encountered a world called Kelowna, we encountered a form of naquadah called naquadria. It is this isotope of naquadah that enables our ships to travel vast distances in space in a matter of seconds."

"What sort of distance?"

"To put it in terms that can be easily understood, trip time to the moon is down to two minutes. Mars is eight minutes away. The outer solar system, like Pluto, is twenty minutes away. This travel is done via standard engines powered by naquadah. If the same travel were to be done via the hyper drive engines, the trip would be nearly instantaneous to any point in the solar system."

"We have this technology and we're still using an aging shuttle fleet?"

"The two ships in question only came on-line this year, as did their squadrons."

"Major Davis, if all this information is as classified as you claim, then why brief us all in. I can understand Secretary Bretano and the President and VP being briefed, but why us?"

"Excellent point Secretary Winston. The first battlecruiser, the Prometheus, was out on an extended set of deep-space trials when they encountered a space-fairing race. A race, I might add, that was seeking us, seeking Earth. They have some myth among their peoples of thirteen tribes that went out among the stars to form colonies. Twelve of those tribes settled in one area of the galaxy, while the last one came in our direction. That thirteenth tribe apparently crash-landed on Earth approximately ten thousand years ago. The survivors of the colony ship, with all of their technology destroyed, joined with the primitive tribes on Earth. So in essence, some of us in this room may be genetic descendants of that colony ship."

"What? They wish to come to Earth? Is that it?"

"I'm going to turn over this briefing to Ambassador Ernest Richards, who will give you the answer to that question. Sir?"

"Thank you Major Davis. Gentlemen, Ladies. Approximately five days ago I was standing on an alien planet deep in negotiations with this other race. They call themselves Colonials or descendants of Kobol, but Colonials will suffice.

"Also present at that meeting were the Ambassadors from the United Kingdom, France, Russia, and China; the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. After much discussion, we have hammered out a preliminary treaty with the Colonials. There is also a second treaty with another group that must also be discussed. This second group call themselves Immortals, and folks, let me tell you something, they were born and currently live on Earth."

"Immortals? On Earth? How can that be?"

"That question I'm afraid I can't answer. That will be up to the Immortals themselves as to what they wish to share. The oldest of them is over ten millennia, and I understand from the one I spoke with, a Captain Adam Pierson, USAF, that there are Immortals as young as twenty-five years. He even spoke of one that became an Immortal at the age of eleven and at the time of his death, appeared no older than eleven but was actually over eight hundred years old. It is my understanding that an Immortal appears normal and ages normally up until the time of their first 'death' at which point the aging process stops. Captain Pierson appears to be about twenty-six or so, but he's actually over ten thousand."

"Is there anyway to tell a normal from an Immortal?"

"Apparently not sir. At least I couldn't tell. Though Immortals can sense one another, the range at which they can sense the other is limited to a few dozen meters."

"And they want what?"

"Nothing spectacular really. Just a treaty that promises a few things. One, they ask never to be used for medical research. I can see their viewpoint on this. One of the airmen on the Immortal strike team told me that some years ago he was involved in a car accident. The paramedics on the scene took him into the hospital barely alive. By the time they got to the emergency room, he had almost fully healed. The doctor on duty witnessed the healing. That doctor abducted him, then proceeded to kill him repeatedly over the course of two weeks to chart his healing abilities. I can understand the desire for knowledge, but we have to realize that these men and women are human and to do to them what is illegal to do to a mortal would be a crime.

"Second, the want a promise from us that if any other country abducts one of them for medical research, that we will utilize everything at our disposal to retrieve that Immortal. Thirdly, they would like to be recognized as citizens, with non-expiring social security numbers and passports. They would like for the passports to be diplomatic in nature so that when they travel by air, there won't be a whole lot of questions about their choice of wardrobe accessory."

"Accessory?!"

"All of them carry a sword."

"A sword. Immortals. Swords. Right. Sure."

"In return, they promise not to violate any of our laws. If any Immortal does break a law, they request first opportunity to handle the matter themselves. Apparently, that's what the swords are for. It seems that only another Immortal has the power to take the life of one of their own."

"Ouch."

"Furthermore, they will be forming their own governing body, an Immortal Council, that will be charged with the dissemination of technology that has been entrusted to them by the Ancient's Representative, Tok'Ra."

"What sort of technology?"

"How about cold fusion? A cure for the common cold? Or better yet, cures for cancer, AIDS, SARS, and any number of other diseases that currently plague mankind. Or what about technology to transform arid regions into fertile regions. The ability to transform a desert into a forest. Also the tech necessary to enable us to colonize the nearer planets and moons. But there is a caveat."

"Caveat? Isn't there always."

"They do not want the United States to be the sole recipient of this technology. They want the technology to be shared equally with every nation on Earth. Any nation which misuses the technology for ill, will be dealt with severely by the Immortals, by the Ancients, by the Colonials, and my suggestion is, by other nations."

"The Colonials, for their part, will share their technology with us completely. They wish to be recognized as an independent nation with all the rights given to a nation. They will trade with us technology for technology, metals and minerals for food."

"Where will they settle?"

"Tok'Ra, the Representative of the Ancients, has offered them the usage of the Ancients' base on Mars."

"Could we also establish a colony on Mars?"

"I'm sure that could be arranged Mr. President."

"Mr. Ambassador, you mentioned an exchange of technology?"

"Director Brandt, while the Colonials are a space fairing race, and while they may be advanced in weapons and medical technologies, certainly more advanced in areas such as engineering, they are far behind us in other areas. They have been in space for thousands of years, but their computers take up vast rooms on their ships. They are, in terms of computing technology, where the US was say, at the end of the Second World War. They don't use any form of shielding on their ships nor do they possess teleportation technology. I'm told that the USAF is in possession of this technology and that it is used aboard the Prometheus and the Daedalus."

"We have that technology and I've never heard of it?"

"Dr. Brandt, up until today, that information was very classified."

"But we will have full access now?"

"That is my understanding, sir."

"So now what?"

"Now we work out the details of the treaties before us. Then we push them through the Senate for ratification. Gentlemen, while we are meeting here, I'm sure similar meetings are underway in the UK, France, Russia, and China. Once we've ratified the treaty, then we can announce to the general public the information about the Colonials. I'd suggest the information on the Immortals be released by them once they have their governing body established. Furthermore, there is still the matter of the enemy of the Colonials, who have sworn the equivalent of a blood oath to exterminate all humanoid life in the universe. And the matter of the Goa'uld who want nothing more than to execute a scorched earth policy on our world. We must help the Colonials if we expect them to help us."

"Then we must make sure this treaty is as ironclad as possible and get it ratified as quickly as possible. Gentlemen, we have a lot of work to do. Take a five minute break, stretch your legs. We'll reconvene and get to work. Robby, Ed, MP, Clark. You four stay. The rest of you excuse us for five minutes."

"Of course Mr. President."

"Jack."

"Robby. Round up the best aviators we have in every branch. I want to lend the Colonials the equivalent of one of their squadrons in personnel as a sign of good faith. The rest of the men or women that you recommend will be assigned to operational squadrons on the three new battlecruisers the Air Force is currently building. General Hammond at the SGC is also requesting pilots from Russia, China, France, and the UK to make up some squadrons.

"Ed, Mary Pat. I want you to work with the SGC to get a handle on the intelligence gathering they have at their disposal.

"John, I'd like you to station one of your teams at the SGC until further notice, to assist them with anything they might need. I'm going to ask Director Murray to lend you enough replacements to cover the duties of your missing team. I'd also want someone from Rainbow to liaison with the SGC on a permanent basis."

"I'll get on it right away, Jack."

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Elsewhere in the United States

Methos had used some of his stashed funds to purchase a large plot of land in the wilds of Colorado. Then he'd had a number of different religious leaders come in to consecrate the land. Holy Ground. The one place where all Immortals could walk without fear of being challenged. Then he'd built a simple house, octagonal in shape and over eight thousand square feet in size. The members of the Immortal strike team were already present, as were the members of SG-1. Once a number of simple shelters had been erected, the assembled Immortals sat down to await the first arrivals. Tok'Ra did as promised and unleashed the full force of his Quickening. Every Immortal in the room looked at one another with awe. The sheer power of Tok'Ra's Quickening called to them, pulled them closer, made them want to feel that Quickening. Made them want to embrace all of that power intimately. Around the world, Immortals looked up from whatever they were doing and felt the pull of the Gathering. One pair was even in the midst of a fight when they felt the pull. Both fell to the ground, writhing in the ecstasy of the sensation of the powerful Quickening. All would come, one way or another. Almost all would go to the site of the Gathering. Somewhere in Colorado, in the United States.

----------------------------------------

Thanks to the miracle of modern transportation technology, they arrived in Colorado within three days.

Joe Dawson had the watch in the tower built into Pierson's home. He saw as the Immortals began arriving, mostly singly, but a few in pairs. He started to keep a list, but after a short while he gave up.

Connor MacLeod, elder cousin and clansman to Duncan MacLeod. Lucas Desiree, a former General in the Confederate Army. Grace Chandler, a medical researcher. Greg Powers, a doctor and famous photographer. Marcus Constantine, a General in the army of Rome. Herbert Gris, a pilot for the German Air Force. Kassim, a General in the army of Iran. The list went on and on. All were surprised to see that the Gathering would take place on Holy Ground. Many were praying to whatever Gods they believed in that no fights would occur there. The potential for disaster was just too great.

One by one they came into the large circular area that had been prepared by the Air Force engineering teams for this purpose.

Connor MacLeod walked into the cleared area and spotted his cousin, Duncan, on the opposite side. He went to him and pulled him into a bear hug. Then he noticed who else was already there. He greeted Methos by name, then in turn he greeted Amanda and Cassandra. He was shocked however, upon seeing Ramirez.

"Wh? Who? How?"

"Take note, dear friends. This is a moment that all too rarely happens. A Highlander at a loss for words."

"The Kurgan. He took your head. How?"

"MacLeod. I am quite alive. I will admit that brute of a man came close, however, fate in the form of a God intervened."

"God? What does God have to do with this?"

"Not God. A God. Someone you will meet when all the players have been assembled. Now come. You and I, we have much to catch up on. You are taking good care of my sword, yes?"

Marco Ramos, born Marius Augustus, recognized others as they entered the clearing. Marcus Constantine. Palos Karros. Hamza ibn Mohammed. The first two he knew from his time spent with the Roman army. The last as the man who taught him the art of the sword smith.

"Constantine. Karros. Hamza. It has been too long since we have spoken."

"Marius? Is it you?"

"It is Marcus. The last time I saw you was in Rome. After our glorious victories in Gaul."

"I remember that. It has really been far too long, old friend. I hope that it does not come down to us. I would hate to take your head."

"It won't come to that. At least I hope not."

"Marius, what do you mean? Speak plainly."

"Hamza, Palos. I shall speak plainly. The time has come for us to gather. But not to fight. The Game. It is all a lie. On that you have my word."

"A lie? But how? And if this is true, then all those Immortals whose Quickenings we've claimed?"

"It is true. As to the Quickenings, I think that I shall let another explain this."

Constantine looked at the assembled Immortals and blanched as he saw another one walk in. Nefertiri. A woman he had once loved. Hand maiden to Cleopatra. She acknowledged him with a nod before moving to Duncan MacLeod. Marcus felt a twinge of misplaced jealousy.

Not all of the Immortals now present were technically good. Some were quite evil. Paul Kinman, a highly paid assassin. Herbert Gris, a pilot formerly in the German Air Force, and now a highly paid mercenary pilot. During the Second World War, Gris had been with Hitler's SS. Everett Bellion, a retired French army Colonel that had once tried to kill a mortal acquaintance of Duncan MacLeod. Cage, a smuggler. Kassim, a known terrorist. Felicia Martins, an internationally known thief and hired assassin.

Countless numbers were soldiers, or had been soldiers at one time or another. Mako. Dallman Ross. Warren Cochrane. The numbers of Immortals present kept growing and growing. It was hours before all of the Immortals in the known world were finally there. Already small groups had formed, but the members of the SGC Immortal Strike Team were the most visible. So it was one of them who spoke first. Ramirez. The oldest member of the Strike Team.

"Greetings and salutations to one and all. I am Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez. Some of you know me. Some do not. That is not important at the moment, however. I have been asked to introduce the one responsible for calling all of us together. Tok'Ra."

In the crowd, only Nefertiri understood the Egyptian sense of the name. One who is against Ra. And then she felt it. As did everyone in the clearing. A small tickle that to many of them would signal the nearness of another Immortal. But this tickle grew and grew till it nearly overwhelmed their senses. The Quickening they were feeling was that of Tok'Ra, a being more than five hundred thousand years in age. The sheer strength of the Quickening drove many of the younger Immortals to their knees. Some collapsed outright. But then they saw Tok'Ra. A gaseous mass of glowing energy that surrounded them all. Tok'Ra's Quickening mingled with their own in a way they never thought possible. Then he spoke.

"Hello to all. I am Tok'Ra. He who is against Ra. I was old when your ancestors were still swinging through trees. This world is my birthplace. I am the culmination of five hundred thousand years of Immortal evolution. There is no Game and there is no Prize. Those are two parts of a sick joke, played on all of you by a crazed mortal that knew of your existence. There is absolutely no truth whatsoever to that lie. And now you see before you what you will eventually evolve into. In a few hundred thousand years or so. There is a second lie that has been perpetrated on all of you. You can have children. Millennia ago, myself and others of my kind sought a way to propagate our species. We manipulated the chain of life that you call DNA. In one mortal woman out of every hundred thousand, there exists the potential to give birth to an Immortal, or to one who will become Immortal. This is why there are only so many potential Immortals born each year. It may be decades before another is born with the potential to become an Immortal.

"Furthermore, if a woman becomes Immortal, it was an accident of our manipulations that she becomes barren. I can fix that, if the woman in question so desires the correction. Any pairing of Immortal male and female will produce an Immortal offspring. In any pairing of Immortal male with mortal female, there exists the potential to create an Immortal offspring, though the odds on that pairing are one in one hundred thousand. And no, as an Immortal male, you can not sense the potential in a female to bear Immortal children. It was something we, myself and five other Ancients, wrote into your genetic code. You seem surprised. Do you think that all Immortals are created by magic or science? No. This was done to allow your species to procreate, but to not allow you to overwhelm the mortals with whom you share a planet.

"And now, the reason for this Gathering. Some of you are quite old, by mortal standards. Some quite young. But all of you now face an enemy that seeks to wipe out all life on this planet. Sure, you will survive such an onslaught. But once the enemy learns that you have survived, they will do everything in their power, to destroy you. This enemy; they believe themselves to be Gods. Once, they lived on this world, ten thousand years ago. They came here and they enslaved the primitive mortals, and took them to various other worlds around the universe. Primitive man eventually rebelled and pushed them off the planet. And for a time they forgot you were here. Now they have become aware of this world again. Some of you already stand alongside the mortals in their fight. Now all of you must fight. Or help.

"I have pledged my existence to their fight. I am charging you with the creation of an Immortal nation, with a governing council. When that is done, I will turn over my technologies to you on the condition you use them for good and that you share them, gradually, with the mortals on this world, and with their allies, if so requested. Will you do this? I will return in three days to hear your answer."

And with that, Tok'Ra, representative of the Ancients, vanished, leaving bewildered Immortals looking at one another. It was Ramirez who spoke first.

"Friends. We have been given a great gift. A gift we must use wisely. As Tok'Ra mentioned, some of us are already fighting alongside the mortals. I will introduce you to them. Amanda Darieux. Robert and Gina de Valicourt. Duncan MacLeod. Peter Sennes. Cassandra. Cierdwyn. Myself. And Alex Phillipson, our squad leader. Methos...yes, that Methos. He serves on another team, made up entirely of mortals, one of which is an alien. Now. Let us relax. We are on Holy Ground. There will be no fighting here. Let us eat. Let us drink. And let us discuss the formation of an Immortal country."

A speechless Immortal. Who would've thought it? But a whole passé of speechless Immortals? Could such a thing ever happen again? Yet here they were. Hundreds of speechless Immortals all in the same place. Marius moved first, towards his group of old friends; Constantine, Karros, and Hamza. They moved off to the side and sat in front of a roaring fire. And talked.

"Is what the God said true Marius?"

"He's not a God, Palos. He is one of us, just slightly more mature."

"To him, we must seem as babes in the woods."

"We are, Hamza. He sees us as his children. What right do we have to deny our 'father' what he believes is best for us? And if what he said is true, then we all have the chance to be fathers. I, for one, have always wished to raise a child of mine own. Tell me that none of you have wished for the same. An heir. And to think that we may have sired an heir or three, that they were not raised by our hands, that they may have been killed by others of our kind. To think that I might have fought someone who might have been my child. The thought is sobering, dear friends. I think my path is clear. I will do whatever is necessary to establish our new country. We owe it to ourselves to try."

"I will stand with you. I am Lucas Desiree. My friends and I wanted to share your fire. We knew that all of you were elders to us and we wanted to ask your opinion of the evening's event. But I for one have heard all that you have just said. And I will stand with you."

"As will I. Constantine, I may never forget what has happened between us, but I think in time I can forgive you."

"Nefertiri, you may be able to forgive me, yet I doubt I will ever forgive myself for all the pain I caused you."

"Will you stand by your friend in his attempt to build a future for our kind?"

"I will, Nefertiri."

"Then I add my voice to his."

Around the clearing, others were saying the same thing. Without realizing it, Marius had spoken quite loudly in his fervour. His comments had been heard by all of the Immortals present, save for Methos who had already made his decision. Whether any one else supported him or not, he would do what was necessary to form an Immortal Nation.

Even those who had broken many mortal laws were swayed by Marius' comments. Particularly those about the possibility that they had taken the head of their own child. The other comments would not ever be remembered in their entirety, but that one would. For all time. As Nefertiri pledged her voice to Marius' own, other Immortals in the crowd did as well until the clearing was awash with Immortals swearing oaths to try in hundreds if not thousands of different languages.

Then came the hard part. Who would serve on this council? What criteria would they use? Would an Immortal 'run for office' like a mortal? Or would there be a set of criteria decided upon before one could even serve.

"Marius! Your words moved us to act! Have you an idea how we will accomplish our task?"

"I do. But you may not like it. We are few. Our numbers are less than a thousand. How do we determine who serves? I for one, have no desire to lead, yet I do wish to build. There was a man in ancient Rome, Cincinatus. He had no desire to serve, no desire to lead. He wished to be left alone on his estate to grow food and to pursue his studies. But his writings brought him to the attention of the Senate and the Emperor. They asked him to serve, to lead. He did so, on the condition that it was for a fixed period of time and when his time was done, he could return to the private life and not be called upon again. An idea I have tried to follow, with some small success, since I spoke to him.

"So here are my thoughts on the matter. First off, a term of service on the council would last a bit longer than that of mortal governments. So perhaps a term of one century? We can discuss that at a later time. I think the method of how we choose is just as important as how long our choices stay in power. I would not want to campaign for a position on the council. Maybe a thousand years from now, when our numbers have grown somewhat, we could do that. But for now, the only way I can see that would be fair to everyone here, would be by a lottery.

"I need a few volunteers. To take a census of all those present here. Just a name, an approximate age, and a place of birth, to the best of your recollection, that is. Once we know how many of us there are, we can set up the lottery. I think seven is a good number. A smaller number would make it to easy to pass all sorts of strange laws. A larger number would make it difficult to pass any laws."

"Seven sounds like a good number to me Marius."

"It does, doesn't it Methos?"

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Cydonia Planitia, Mars

The base on Mars had proven more than adequate to house all of the survivors of the Twelve Worlds. There were multiple levels of dormitories that stretched for miles and miles beneath the surface of Mars. When the Zero Point Energy generators had been activated by Tok'Ra, a second set of generators had come to full power. These were generating massive amounts of carbon dioxide to thicken the atmosphere, and a pair of torsional generators deep in the core also began powering up that would gradually, over the period of several centuries, bring the gravitational pull of the planet to that of a near Earth standard.

Automated sensors located at various points along the surface were monitoring the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. They were waiting for the right levels to be reached before releasing algae, a form of plant life that could live on a straight diet of carbon dioxide and one that would excrete oxygen in return. Additionally, small oxygen generators located at the poles would begin pumping out minute amounts of oxygen. Not enough to create an atmosphere overnight, but enough to help out the algae and their task of creating a viable biosphere. It was not a project to be taken lightly, this converting a world; terraforming. Something that would take at best a decade to accomplish.

Within the two moons, Phobos and Deimos, long dormant systems had come on-line. Surveillance towers emerged from the two moons, along with a series of long range communications arrays. These were followed by automated long and median range heavy plasma cannons. Over the course of a pair of hours, the two moons had become fortresses.

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Stargate Command

General Hammond was startled to hear his phone ring; his red phone. After a short and to the point conversation, he placed a call on his STU-VI to Colonel O'Neill. An hour later, SG-1, in its entirety, was standing in the main conference room.

"At ease people. An hour ago, I received a rather interesting call from the President."

"Oh?"

"He has been nominally aware of the mission of the SGC since taking office late last year, but he had been unaware of the full import of what we have been doing. He has had other things on his mind as you well know. But the important thing is that the Director of Central Intelligence, his Deputy Director of Operations, and the head of a multi-national anti-terrorist organization are on their way here. They are expected in three hours."

"Sir?"

"President Ryan has directed the CIA to assign us a number of civilian intelligence specialists to help us with the Goa'uld problem. Their Operations Director wants to meet with her Tok'ra counterpart to discuss the possibility of using CIA field officers off-world."

"Really. What about this anti-terror guy?"

"Brigadier General John Clark is coming along with the Foleys. He is the head of an organization called Rainbow. A multi-national anti-terrorist organization. These folks are the ones that dealt with those terrorists at the Spanish amusement park earlier this year."

"That was a class act. Clark you said sir?"

"Yes. As I said, they will arrive in a little over three hours. Colonel, I expect you to meet them at the airfield and bring them down here. I have a conference call about the same time with General Vidrine that I can't get out of."

"Dress uniform sir?"

"I think that would be best, Colonel. SG-1 you are on stand down for one month. Enjoy your time off. Dismissed."

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Three hours later - Peterson Air Force Base

"Director Foley, I presume?"

"That would be me."

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, sir. General Hammond sends his regrets that he was unable to meet you in person. I am to escort you and your party to the SGC. This way please."

"You are Hammond's second in command?"

"Correct sir."

"That would make you a simulated Brigadier General, correct?"

"Correct sir."

"Interesting."

The conversation halted at that statement until some tens of minutes later when O'Neill had seated them in the conference room, the blast doors to the embarkation room in the down position.

"I understand Colonel, that you have an alien on your team?"

"Correct Mrs. Foley. The alien is named Teal'c. He used to be the First Prime for Apophis, which is their equivalent of General. But their rank system is rather limited. All of their soldiers are Jaffa. All Jaffa have a tattoo on their foreheads that indicates their allegiance to a particular system lord. The first prime has the same tattoo, but instead of ink it's done in gold."

"That has to hurt."

"I'm sure it does. Airman, ask Teal'c to report to the conference room."

"Sir!"

----------------------------------------

"You sent for me O'Neill."

"I did. These fine people wished to meet you. Director Ed Foley, Deputy Director Mary Patricia Foley, and General John Clark. May I present Teal'c, one of two resident aliens at the SGC."

"Two resident aliens?"

"Yes sir. There is also Jonas Quinn, late of Kelowna and currently assigned as linguist to SG-4. Mr. Quinn is responsible for obtaining naquadria for the SGC."

"Is he available?"

"No sir. SG-4 is currently off-world. They are due to return tomorrow I believe."

"Teal'c, you appear to be quite young to be this First Prime that Colonel O'Neill has described."

"Indeed. My symbiote keeps me in perfect health, however I am 92 of your years in age."

"Oh wow."

"Indeed."

"And you were the leader of an Army?"

"I was First Prime to Apophis. It is a role I am not proud of."

"What is your opinion of the Goa'uld?"

"They pretend to be Gods in order to enslave billions of people in the universe. But their arrogance shall be their undoing. They believe no one except another System Lord can threaten them. They fail to realize what the Tau'ri can accomplish when pressed."

It was the most that Jack had ever heard from Teal'c at one time. And while Jack was busily picking his jaw up from the floor, General Hammond walked in.

"I must apologize for not being able to meet you at Peterson, however, I was in conference with General Vidrine and the Pentagon. Something about our allies wanting to each put up one squadron worth of pilots to serve aboard one of the battlecruisers."

"They can join the club General. Vice President Jackson got those same marching orders from Jack Ryan not five hours ago. The reason we are here however, is to examine your intelligence gathering operations."

"I see. And General Clark? Why are you here?"

"To examine your security methods and to provide additional security for any visiting dignitaries."

"Our SG teams and the SFs we have at this facility are more than capable of providing security for this facility and any dignitaries, but we always welcome constructive criticism."

"I would also like to examine your training program."

"Of course. Colonel?"

"Sir?"

"Perhaps you and Captain Pierson would show General Clark our training facility."

"General Clark, will it be just you or?"

"One of my Rainbow teams should be arriving late this evening. I would like them to accompany us, if at all possible."

"It's possible. Will they be bringing their own gear?"

"Yes. Standard force deployment."

"Very good. I will inform Captain Pierson of the pending mission sir."

"Very good. Dismissed Colonel."

"Sir!"

-----------------------------------------

Office of General Hammond

"General Clark? Or is it Kelly?"

"I thought that was you George. It's been a long time since 'Nam."

"It sure as hell has. Why the name change?"

"Agency did it. I had some bad folks after me stateside. John Kelly had to die."

"Well, in any case, if your troops are half as good as you were, then I feel better about them being here."

"They're different from the types we had in 3rd SOG, but they're good. Very good. So whatever happened to your sidekick?"

"Sidekick? Oh, you mean Jake?"

"Yeah. Captain Carter, I think it was. You were a lieutenant back then."

"Captain Carter is now Major General Carter. He's currently off-world. He's our ambassador to the Tok'ra."

"Those would be the Goa'uld resistance?"

"Yep. And that blonde major you met earlier? That's his daughter. She was a one-time host to a Tok'ra named Jolinar."

"You keep in touch with AJ?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Haven't seen him in something like ten years. Last I heard he was on the East Coast."

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Military transport, enroute from Andrews to Peterson AFB

"Ding, you know why Six wants us in Colorado?"

"No idea Oso. All he said was standard deployment package. Something about checking security for some event."

"Well, it'll be a change from England. Maybe we can get out and see some real trees?"

"Maybe Oso."

Privately Domingo Chavez was concerned. All that Alistair had told him was to take his team to Colorado and to be prepared for a long deployment, possibly as long as six months. His team had a good portion of their gear with them. Oso had his '60, and the rest of them had their MP-5Ns. As far as he knew, there was no major governmental facilities in Colorado except for NORAD, and he guessed that they had their own competent security teams. There was no intelligence to go over. No plans to study. Tim Noonan was as much lost as he was. His contacts at the FBI building knew nothing when he called them shortly after their British Airways flight landed at Dulles.

----------------------------------------

Elsewhere in Colorado

The lottery for council positions had proceeded without incident and now the seven chosen ones for the first council were preparing to meet. The were from as varied backgrounds as one could imagine with their Immortality being, for the most part, their only common factor. Michelle Webster, Kassim, Hamza ibn Mohammed, Grace Chandler, Mako, Carl Robinson, and Marius Augustus had been chosen. Of those chosen, Marius was by far the oldest. His comrades on the council voted unanimously to name him President of the Immortal Council. Their first task was to create a set of principles by which they would all live. They would base the Principles on codes of law that were both ancient and modern. And once they were done, they recommended the approval of these Principles by all of the Immortals, which after some discussion and open debate, the vote was affirmative. Marius called Methos with the news.

"Pierson."

"Hello old one."

"Marco. How are things going there?"

"They have gone well. We have chosen a council and I have been named President of the council."

"Congratulations! A better man I can not imagine."

"We have also written and voted on a set of principles. All Immortals here have pledged to uphold the Principles."

"That is excellent news! Please inform squad leader Phillipson that we require his team back at the mountain."

"I will pass that along right now. We will meet with your father and discuss the technology transfer."

"Good. I have to play tour guide for the next few days."

"Affirmative. Have fun."

"You too."

----------------------------------------

In another part of the galaxy

"My Lord."

"Speak Jaffa."

"A report from our scouts in Tau'ri space. They claim a large number of ships are in orbit about the fourth planet. A lot of activity in hyperspace in that system."

"How many ships do they report?"

"Several hundred large vessels and approximately the same number of small craft they believe to be fighters. There are also two ships in orbit around the Tau'ri home world. The scouts report they resemble Asgard vessels, but are much smaller. The vessel description they sent matches the partial description we received from Lord Zipacna prior to his disappearance."

"Order the scouts returned as quickly as possible. Order all ships made ready for departure."

"At once my Lord!"

He looked like all those mythological images of the Grim Reaper. All that was missing was the scythe. He sat alone on his throne. But he was not alone in the room. There was another there.

"Hello!"

"Jaffa! Kree!"

"Your servants can not hear you. I have sealed the room. The reports of these ships you have found, they match a race of people I seek."

"You dare to defile my throne room! I shall have you killed! Slowly!"

"Come now. There is no need for that. I can deliver these Tau'ri to you. I can raise you to King over all System Lords."

"And what do you require for these gifts?"

"Your assistance in a small matter. My followers and I have pursued a race of humanoids across this universe to this place. They will join forces with yours to eradicate this menace to my Empire."

"And if we choose not to assist you?"

"Then my followers will destroy you. I await your answer."

"What is your name?"

"I have many names. My followers call me Creator. Others call me Count Iblis."

"You are not Goa'uld."

"No. I am of the race you call the Ancients."

"You are unlike any Ancient I have ever encountered."

"What is your answer?"

"No. We will not assist you."

"You shall regret this day! My people will take from you everything! We shall crush the Goa'uld Hegemony and eradicate you and your brethren from existence! However, if you beg enough, I may deign to offer you a second chance."

And he vanished. Fading into nothingness before the amused eyes of Anubis. His First Prime returned to his throne room and reported one of their Ha'tak motherships under attack at the edge of Anubis' empire. Under attack by ships with no living creatures aboard. Anubis seethed with visible anger. With a sweeping movement, he ordered five Shalk'ra class motherships to the aid of the one Ha'tak. And he ordered samples of this new enemy brought before him. With a motion of his hand he dismissed his Jaffa and moved to his vo'cuum to speak with his under lords.

----------------------------------------

SGC, 0800 hrs

In the very early morning hours, the Rainbow team had arrived. They were escorted to the BOQ on Peterson and allowed to get a few hours of sleep before an 0700 wake-up call. A leisurely breakfast was followed by a short trip to Cheyenne Mountain. The Rainbow troopers exited their SUVs to find General Clark waiting for them along with two Air Force officers, one colonel and one captain.

"Major Chavez, reporting as ordered sir!"

"At ease, Ding. Major Domingo Chavez, allow me to introduce Colonel Jack O'Neill and Captain Adam Pierson. Colonel, Captain, this is Major Domingo Chavez, team leader for Team One Rainbow."

"Why are we here sir?"

"Jack asked us to look over the security of this facility and the training centre for this facility."

"Jack asked? Well, then we'll do the best we can."

"Good. Follow me."

The Rainbow team followed Colonel O'Neill and Captain Pierson into the mountain and down the elevator to Level 26 to the conference room overlooking the embarkation room.

"General Clark, I'd like to start our little tour with our training facility. I see the your men are carrying MP-5Ns. A good weapon, however we prefer the FN-P90s. The FN is the standard weapon for all SG teams."

"Why the FN over the MP?"

"Higher rate of fire and a larger magazine, and less of a tendency to rise up when firing on full auto. That plus a lighter weight of the gun and the magazine makes it our weapon of choice."

"Ok. So where is this training facility?"

As Major Chavez asked this question, Pierson stood up and went to the wall and pressed a button. The blast shield rose up and suddenly they were all looking at this massive ring within a ring. And the instant the blast shield was fully raised, alert klaxons began blaring throughout the facility as a voice announced an off-world activation. Seven chevrons lit up along the periphery of the ring and a vortex of what looked like water rushed out the front and back of the ring. Metal leaves irised closed over the water like surface for a moment while a signal was received and checked by the base computers. Finding a match with the GDO signal for SG-5, the iris opened and a few seconds later, four men walked through the water and down the ramp.

"Perfect timing. That gentlemen, is the Stargate. We'll use that to get to the training facility."

"Your facility is located where exactly?"

"General Clark, our training facility is off-world."

"And the only way to get to the facility is through this gate, yes?"

"From Earth, yes, that is correct. However, the training facility is available from any other world with a Stargate, and that includes any enemy world."

"Ok, how about we check security here first then?"

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White House Conference Room
Teleconference joined in progress

"...yes President Grushavoy, that is correct. I wish to invite all of you to the White House. We will make our treaty public at that time."

"Mr. President, my advisor Sergei Golovko, has recommended we accept this treaty. But I have a question for you."

"Ask anything you like, sir, but there's no guarantee that I have an answer for you."

"I see. My question is, how can we guarantee an equal exchange of technology? What I mean is, how do we know that the other party, either these Colonials or these Ancients, do not hold back?"

"I can't answer that Mr. President. I am going by what my Ambassador has reported in regards to his perceptions of our potential allies. He believes we can trust them and so I will do the same."

"Sir John, I for one will be arriving the day after tomorrow. I look forward to seeing your lovely family again."

"Of course your Highness. I'm certain my family feels the same way."

"Monsieur President, I too will arrive in two days time. I look forward to hearing how your staff and mine will tell the world of these events."

"I'm certain that it will be an interesting press conference."

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Oval Office, Two days later

"Mr. President, the President of the Immortal Council, sir."

"Send him in."

"Good morning Mr. President."

"And to you as well. Please, have a seat sir."

"Thank you Mr. President. And please, call me Marco."

"May I ask a bit about you? Unlike any other person that comes in here, the security agencies could not find out anything about you beyond the fact that you currently serve with Stargate Command. I am understandably curious."

"And a professor of history I believe."

"That too."

"Very well then. I was born two thousand five hundred and ninety eight years ago at a time when the Roman Empire was still the world's foremost power. I served as a General in her armies. I was Gaius Marius Augustus, Commander of the Armies of the West, and General of the Prima Legion. I served the Empire well. At least I believe I did. My first death was in battle, and I was laid to rest in a shallow grave. When my body had healed and I managed to claw my way out of the ground, I found another of my kind standing over me. That was Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez, and he was my teacher and mentor. As deaths go, it could have been worse."

"I'm not sure I want to imagine worse."

"After that, I stayed in what would become Spain for a few centuries, fighting in the occasional war, and changing my identity every fifty to sixty years or so. By necessity, we Immortals had to do that or else we faced being accused of sorcery. Believe me sir, being burnt at the stake once was one too many times for me."

"Uhm."

"When the call came for explorers to head west across the Atlantic, I went. I didn't come across with Columbus on his first voyage, but I was part of the crew on the second journey. I jumped ship in the 'New World' and made my way to the mainland. I've been here ever since. I was a rifleman in your Revolutionary War. I was a pilot in both world wars. Missed out on Vietnam because the Air Force needed a researcher, not a pilot. Been with the Air Force ever since."

"I was led to believe Immortals did not like government service because of the potential of being found out."

"Actually sir, that's mostly true. But having been around for so long, well, let me just say that I can create papers that would fool your secret service agent there, even if she did a detailed examination."

"What about that Andrea?"

"Sir. I don't believe him sir."

"Please, agent, take this set and examine them. Perform as detailed a search as you can in say, one hour?"

"Mr. President?"

"I'd say that was a challenge, Andrea. What do we get if she and the Service prove the papers are false?"

"I'll equip yourself, Agent Price and five people of her choice with personal force fields, guaranteed to stop anything fired by anything made on this planet. But if she can't prove the papers are false, well, I'll come up with something."

"Sounds fair, sir."

"Take his papers, Andrea, and get your people started."

The two leaders, both men who did not want the job to which they were now in, discussed a number of items over the ensuing hour from laws governing Immortals to the proposed trade agreement, to a request by the Immortal Council for a homeland to call their own. At the end of the hour, a Secret Service agent came in with the requested information and presented it to President Ryan and Agent Price.

"Sir, this is what we found on one Mario Agustino. Parents were Jose Maria and Dolores Araceli Agustino, both of Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico. Emigrated to the US in '67 and their only son, Mario was born in El Paso, in 1969. We managed to pull his records from high school where he excelled in science and math and lettered in a number of sports. Attended Texas A&M University where he received advanced degrees in physics and mathematics. Currently on sabbatical from his research position at Los Alamos National Laboratory."

"Have you spoken to anyone who knows him?"

"Yes sir. One of the agents spoke briefly with his fourth grade teacher who remembered him as a curious and intuitive child. Another agent spoke with his senior counsellor at his high school who had nothing but good things to say about Mr. Agustino. An agent also spoke with one of his co-workers who believes him to be a diligent worker with an eye for trying new ways of solving problems."

"Thank you Agent."

"Well Agent Price?"

"We only had an hour. A deep background check can take months."

"True. But in an hour, you have proven that my second set of papers are just as 'real' as my regular set."

"He has a point Andrea. I think we'll be safe in admitting defeat just this once."

"As you say, Mr. President."

"So, Marco. You never did say what would happen if she couldn't prove them false."

"No I didn't. You still get the protective fields. But I want one favour, and while it may not be in your power to grant such a favour, I only ask that you try."

"Name it."

"As I mentioned in our discussions earlier, the Immortal Council would like to establish a homeland. However, we have agreed that any such homeland on Earth might imply that we are aligned with whatever country gives up a portion of its territory. Therefore, we would like to have an agreement recognized by international treaty that the Immortal homeland will be on the Earth's Moon."

"The moon?"

"Yes. We will establish a colony there using the Ancient's technology. We will export certain items to Earth in exchange for basic foodstuffs and vital gases. At least until we can build what we need to grow our own foods and distill our own life giving gases. Furthermore, this treaty will grant us sole ownership of the Moon. Anyone wishing to emigrate there, may do so, with the consent of their home country and of the Immortal Council."

"I will do what I can to grant this favour."

"That is all I ask."

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Two weeks later
Press Room, White House, Washington, DC. Earth

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the press, the President of the United States."

"Good evening. There are a number of things I need to say. Before I do, however, I would like to introduce my guests at the podium with me. His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales. President Chirac of France. Premier Xu of China. President Grushavoy of Russia. The other two guests here shall remain nameless for a few more minutes, until I explain the events of the past few weeks. In order to do so, I ask some leeway while I give you a bit of a history lesson.

"Some years ago, a man by the name of Dr. Daniel Jackson published his thesis in which he claimed that our civilization was a result of ancient visitations by space-fairing aliens. At the time he was laughed out of academia and that would have been the end of the story had it not been for another doctor in government employ. She saw the potential in Doctor Jackson and hired him for a project the Air Force was running at the time. He did in two weeks what seventy years of archaeologists could not do. He translated an artifact that had been discovered on the Giza plateau in Egypt in 1928.

"His translation opened a doorway to a bold new frontier. Now, nearly a decade later, we have made numerous advances and have made numerous allies. And we have made enemies. I see a look of bewilderment on many of your faces. The artifact in question is called a Stargate and because we were successful in deciphering its usage, members of our Air Force and Marine Corps routinely travel to planets all over the universe. Two of the men standing behind me are from other worlds.

"Very recently, using techniques of reverse engineering of captured alien space ships, the Air Force launched two space going vessels. It was during tests of the first vessel, the Prometheus, that our forces encountered a refugee fleet of survivors of the Twelve Worlds. Their leader, President Tigh, is this gentleman standing behind me. Their civilization had been nearly wiped out by a race of cybernetic beings whose only goal has been the extermination of all human life in the universe.

"After a successful negotiation between their government and the five permanent members of the Security Council, they will be allowed to settle on Mars and to terraform it to their needs. However, this is not the only news I must impart this evening. As I mentioned a moment ago, we have made allies out in the stars. One of these allies call themselves the Tok'ra. Our liaison with the Tok'ra is General Jacob Carter, of the US Air Force. He is the gentleman to my far left. Next to him is Chancellor Garshaw, President of the Tok'ra Alliance. It was a result of a meeting between our forces and those of the Tok'ra, that we discovered a second race living amongst us. They are not alien. They look like you and me. They evolved like we did, but at some point in the distant past, their 'branch' of the evolutionary tree went along a different path. Outwardly, they are indistinguishable from any other human on Earth. Inwardly, as well, there are no differences, or at least none that they are willing to discuss. Their President, Gaius Marius Augustus, is standing to the right of me. On behalf of his people and himself, I have spoken with the other members of the Security Council and have ceded to them, control of the Moon as their homeland."

The speech continued at length for another thirty minutes as the President told all of the SGC and the fight with the Goa'uld. Of the Galacticans and their advanced technology. Of the Ancients and their 'off-spring', the Immortals and their advanced technologies. And in a non-descript apartment in Georgetown, a neighbourhood in Washington, D.C., a man turned to the man and two women he was sitting with and stated with triumph, 'See! I told you aliens exist! Never thought the government would admit to it however.' And elsewhere, in a dark and smoky room, another man exclaimed, 'This alters our plans. The timetable must be accelerated. These Goa'uld must not be allowed to interfere with Colonization.'

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One week later
England, Watcher's Council

"On behalf of the Immortal Council, I bid you greetings. We are grateful for this opportunity to speak to your Council. There is no doubt that you, of all people on this world, have amassed the most complete history of Immortality on the planet. For that we are in your debt. I know that you have a Watcher assigned to me. I have known some of my Watchers over the centuries; I have even married a few of them. That is in the past, however. I have a few requests to make. I know that you have an impressive library bearing the chronicles of all the Immortals that have ever lived. Those documents are clearly yours. I would request, however, a copy be made available to our new colony. In return, I will allow all currently assigned Watchers to immigrate to the colony, on the condition that they contribute in some way to the construction and day to day maintenance of the colony. Furthermore, as you may be aware, I have managed to keep my estate in southern Spain. The estate was left to me by my parents, some twenty-six hundred years ago. It is not large, only a mere thousand acres. I have had a caretaker crew come in once a month to make sure the property is in good repair.

"I will allow you to use this facility in Spain, provided you can restore some semblance of order to the vineyards and bring the production of wine up to a self-supportive level. Another property is also available for your usage as a retreat. Ten thousand acres in the hill country in Texas. As I will be moving to the moon, these properties will need caretakers. Since the Watchers have known of our existence since nearly the beginning, I am asking you to administer them for me. Odds are, there are others who would ask the same of you. You may deliver your answer through Joe Dawson. In the meantime, I will be returning to my home in Colorado. I thank you for your attention in this matter, and I bid you good day."

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San Francisco, California

Marius had already been to his brokers and had arranged for his moneys to be transferred to a bank in Colorado Springs. He was still a member of the SGC, but now he would be based on Luna with the new colony they were building there. With the assistance of the SGC's shuttle fleet and a number of Colonial shuttles, they had lifted enough materials up to the lunar surface to begin construction of a single dome. The first dome would be a base for construction of other domes. A construction shack for the initial phase of development. Marco's force field generators were already in place and would protect the construction crews as they built the first dome. Duncan MacLeod had asked that it be named for a former student of his, and so it would become Dome Ryan.

In twenty-six hundred plus years of life, he would never have imagined living anywhere but on Earth. Now he would soon be living on Luna. Such a strange twist fate has given him. Things had changed radically for Immortals since the press conference two weeks previously. A resolution had been passed by Congress and signed into law by the President in record time. It gave protection from persecution to all Immortals as long as they obeyed the laws of the land. So long as they were good upstanding citizens, they would be protected from 'witch hunts'. The law made it a federal crime, punishable by lethal injection, for anyone who kidnapped an Immortal for purposes of experimentation.

Just now he was sitting in a coffee shop enjoying a good brew. A few patrons were looking at him, like they might have recognized him from the many interviews he'd given over the past two weeks. He could well imagine what it was like for them. Thinking they recognized him from somewhere, but unable to remember where. Well, he wasn't going to fill them in. Then he felt it. Just the barest of tingling buzz. A pre-Immortal. Coming up the walk-way towards the coffee shop. Though a pre-Immortal could not feel an Immortal, they are drawn to Immortals. They seek them out, whether to serve as protectors or friends is unknown. Over the centuries he had raised several pre-Immortals, and he had always prayed and hoped that they would never become full Immortal. Theirs was a solitary life. It was exceedingly rare for two Immortals to marry, and if they did, it was a marriage doomed to failure in the end. Of course, now that the Prize had proven false, such marriages would no longer be so doomed.

But enough of that line of thought. Who was this pre-immie? The buzz of a pre-immie was so faint that only an Immortal in close proximity could detect it. Her. It was that woman. She was with another. The man was familiar though he could not figure out why. He watched from the corner of his peripheral vision. The two of them purchased coffees and made to sit at an adjacent table. Then it came to him where he had seen the man before. An anchor on the local news.

"Excuse me. This may sound trite, but aren't you that reporter, the one that gave that story on Immortals a couple nights ago?"

"Yes. I am."

"I thought as much. An excellent performance you gave, if in no way factual. Before you seek to report on the goings on of Immortals, it might be wise to check your facts. "

"Are you one of them?"

"Something like that. Suffice to say, your reports as to the creation of Immortals is as bogus as the universe is immense. I understand ratings and all that, but at least try to be factual in your reports."

"I know you. I've seen you somewhere. I know it."

"I've been on numerous television news programs over the past two weeks."

"Yes! I knew it. You're that Immortal. Marius Augustus. President of the Immortal Council."

"Correct."

"If I recall correctly, you've been around for a few decades."

"Long enough to have a different perspective of history."

"That's all you can say?"

"What more should I say? I lived. I died. I lived. And I've been alive since then."

"So much history you've seen. Is there anything that stands out?"

"The twentieth century. You have to understand. For centuries, if you wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, you walked. Or rode a horse. Or rode in a horse drawn cart. If you wanted to cross an ocean, you did so by sailing ship. In the past hundred years, you've gone from a primitive aero-plane that flew a few hundred feet to a rocket that sent three men to the moon. You've gone from ships that used sails to ships that use nuclear power. You've gone from sending someone a telegram to deliver the news to watching the news on cable. Two centuries ago, had I mentioned any of these ideas, I would have been locked up as a lunatic, or burned at the stake as a witch."

"Such is the price of intellectual freedom."

"Perhaps. I am most grateful to the Fates that I have survived this long."

"Perhaps you will grant me an interview? Course, the person I really want to speak with is Doctor Daniel Jackson. His story, the man who opened the Stargate for the world, that's the one that needs to be told."

"Well now, if you do as bad a job on my interview as you did on your so-called expose the other night, I'm fairly certain I'll say no. And as far as Daniel is concerned, I can tell you right now, the answer is no."

"Why not let him be the judge of that?"

"'Cause you, sir, seem to be an opportunistic slime of a reporter. I dare not subject Daniel to your kind of reporting."

"Fine then. Tell me where I went wrong the other night?"

"You stated that Immortals are a recent thing, that we've only been here a few decades. You categorically denied than any of us could have been around at say, the Inquisition. You interviewed a priest that called us abominations in the eyes of God, that all men are destined to live only so many years before their final judgment, and that since we can never die, we will never face that to atone for our sins. You even went so far as to speculate that we were created in Petri dishes during the human experimentation period by the Nazis."

"Yeah, so what part of that was wrong? That's what the information I located indicated."

"One: We are not a recent thing. You asked if I'd been around for a few decades. Try millennia. I've just turned 2598. By the standards of my kind, my race, I'm considered young. As for my being an abomination in the eyes of God, well, perhaps I should have asked Simon before he was crucified if he or his mentor believed me to be an abomination. Don't know that name do you? Go ask your priest, the one who called us evil. As to being created in Petri dishes by the Nazis. That sir, I find most distasteful. If you were an honourable sort, I'd challenge you to a duel right now, but as I highly doubt you have any sort of honour, such a challenge would be wasted. I fought in your damned world wars against the Germans!"

"I see. So, I was wrong. What do you want? An apology? A retraction? Never gonna happen."

"Your admission to me that you were wrong is enough. Good day sir!"

Marco walked out of the coffee shop, his head full of anger at the sheer stupidity of some mortals. But he felt the immature signature of a pre-Immortal coming up behind him. He turned and saw the young woman that had been seated with the reporter. The idiot who had it all wrong.

"Hey! Sorry for my friend in there. To be honest I'm not sure what I saw in the guy. Never realized he was such an ass."

"You must be more careful of those whom you choose to be with Miss. Men like him have been there throughout history. I've found that there are two types of men in the world. Those who say 'You go!' and those who say 'Follow me!', and of those two types, I much prefer the latter, for they are invariably leaders. Though oft times, they are misguided leaders."

"Wow. Ok. Well, let me make it up to you? Let me buy you dinner?"

"I would never allow such a beautiful woman to buy my dinner for me. But you could allow me to create a meal for you?"

"I think I ..."

"Oh dang it! Tonight is out of the question. I'm attending a small gathering for friends."

"Afraid I might be scared off by your friends?"

"Not at all. Care to attend?"

She stopped to think on that for a few seconds before answering him. This man, this Immortal, was very handsome. It made her tingle with a type of desire she had never felt in her lifetime. If only she could settle these butterflies in her stomach! She felt like a giddy school girl! Her brain might have said otherwise at the moment, but her heart told her that this man was the one for her.

"Meet me at my hotel at seven-ish. We'll go from there."

"Yes. I will see you at seven."

"Very well then. Here is the name of my hotel. I will see you then."

"I'm familiar with it."

"One question first, if I may?"

"Anything."

"Might I have the honour of knowing thy name?"

"Oh my! How thoughtless of me! Piper Halliwell."

"Marco Ramos. At your service."

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Marius left the coffee shop and went directly to a local farmer's market. One of his past 'lives' had been as a chef in both France and Italy. Tonight's gathering was to be a pot-luck meal hosted by Hamza, and Marius planned a meal that would leave the others salivating for more. Next to science, cooking was his greatest love. As he shopped, his train of thought was interrupted by a voice behind him. It was Miss Halliwell.

"How does it feel?"

"Excuse me? How does what feel?"

"To see so many lives pass before you. Over the passage of centuries, surely you must have been close to someone. It must be difficult knowing that you will outlive them."

"Which is why most Immortals tend to make friendships with other Immortals. But I have had numerous friendships, nay, even relationships with mortals. Some of those are my most treasured memories. The one friendship I thought I had lost five centuries ago has been renewed. My old friend and teacher, whom I hope will be joining us this evening."

"Is he as old as you?"

"About three hundred years older."

"Is he the one the news media are calling the oldest Immortal?"

"Not hardly. Ramirez is just shy of three millennia. The Elder is just over ten millennia."

"Ten thousand? Wow. To have seen so much history!"

"Maybe, but he acts like he's only a twenty-something. In any case, he will join us tonight. He serves on the same team with Dr. Jackson."

"Tell me about Dr. Jackson. Other than his archaeological works, not much is known about him."

"I'm afraid you'd have to ask him about that. It's not my place to discuss his history."

"What about your history? Can you tell me about that?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Have you ever been married?"

"Over the course of two and a half millennia of life, I've had sixty-three wives. Not all at once, mind you."

"Of course not. That would be more than one man could handle."

"I definitely agree. One woman is more than enough. Provided of course, that she is the right woman."

"And what is the right woman?"

"Why not ask me a simpler question, like maybe the meaning of life? The right woman for me, well, that requires little thought. The right woman for me must be intelligent, attractive, witty, and interested."

"Interested? Don't you mean interesting?"

"No. Interested. As in, interested in me. Though her being interesting would be a good thing."

"I see. So, how many degrees do you have? I mean, I assume you do have a few?"

"In modern terms? Approximately one hundred sixteen bachelor's degrees, eighty-nine masters, and eighty-eight doctorates."

"I am impressed. Any other degrees?"

"Nope. Just a few certificates from culinary schools."

"Really? Same here! Ever been a medical doctor?"

"Yes. Medical researcher too."

"Ok. I'm not only impressed, but interested."

"As am I."

While they had been talking, Marius had been picking and choosing fresh produce and excellent steaks for the evening meal. He had an excellent contact in the restaurant industry that provided him with the choicest cuts of beef for the evening's planned pot-luck. In the kitchen, Marius was excellent, but on a grill it was sheer genius. By 1800 that evening, all was ready. The grill had been loaded with mesquite wood and the fire was roaring. Marius knew that the best fire to cook over was coals as it would not char the meat, but allow it to cook slowly and evenly. In an hour, that would be true.

And the company at the moment was beyond excellent. He knew that he wanted to spend an eternity with this woman, but he would not force her change. That would be wrong. She had to come into her Immortality on her own. He would be there when she did.

For her part, she was wondering if a lifetime spent with this man would be enough for her. She had dated others before and those relationships had not worked out. Now she knew that it was all for the best. But she had to thank that fool of a reporter! Had she not been with him, she would never have met Marius. Then again, had President Ryan not made all of this public, she wouldn't have known who Marius was in the first place. So she would send him an invite to the wedding. Whoa. Where did that thought come from? Here she'd only met the man a few hours earlier and she was already planning the guest list for her wedding.

"Everything all right? You seem distracted."

"Oh, just thinking."

"Anything you want to share?"

"Not just yet."

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An hour later the first guests started to arrive. First were the Immortals currently assigned to the SGC, who could feel the power of Piper's pre-Immortal Quickening. Both Methos and Ramirez spent some time with Piper and both later confirmed to Marius that she was indeed destined to become an Immortal after her first death. But Cassandra also spent time with her and told Marius that what he and the others felt was not a pre-Immortal signature but something altogether different. It was a feeling of power, but different from that of a Quickening. The other four members of SG-1, plus Dr. Fraiser, showed up about eight o'clock. Jack, Daniel and Teal'c made a beeline for the backyard where Hamza had just put on the steaks.

There were small groups here and there, most talking about current events, and a few remarking at the flavour in the appetizers. Then Majors Carter and Fraiser found themselves in a conversation with Piper when she asked them a question that floored them.

"So, you two work with Marius. May I ask a question? Kind of personal though."

"Sure, go ahead."

"How can I get his attention? I realize we only met a few hours ago, but it feels like I've know him all my life. Like he's the one that I've been waiting for. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with this man, but is that all I want? He'll live forever, and we'll only have a few years together. Is that enough?"

"That's not a question I'd want to be asking. Dr. Ramos is a very handsome man. If you think you can capture his heart, then I say go for it!"

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Elsewhere in the Universe

The Cylons had sent six of their base ships against this new enemy, the one that called itself the Goa'uld. It would be their first battle. The first of many yet to come. It was a new enemy and it meant that the Colonial refugees would have to wait while the Empire put down this insignificant species of creatures.

The first battle was joined. On one side there were six base ships, and on the other a dozen Ha'tak class motherships, a pair of Cheops cruisers, and a triad of Shalk'ra command motherships. The Cheops and two of the Shalk'ras would act as rear-guard for Anubis' mothership. The Cylon base ships released their fighters and they formed into standard battle phalanx formations. The Udajeet class fighters spewed forth from the Ha'tak's and joined up for the coming battle. They would be flanked by a dozen Al'kesh heavy bombers. The heavier guns on the Al'kesh formation would aid the Udajeets in their quest to rid Goa'uld space of this machine threat.

And then the wait ended and the fire fight began. Space was alight with laser and plasma cannon fire. Solonite missiles rushed forward from the Cylon fighters in waves so thick, they seemed as one solid mass of quickly moving and quite deadly objects. Had it been Viper fighters that the Cylons faced, the battle might have been evenly matched. However, the Udajeet fighters were no match for the Cylon fighters and they fell quickly to the advancing Cylons.

Then the Al'kesh bombers joined in the fray and the tide turned, for a moment or two, to the favour of the Goa'uld. Turned, that is, until the Cylon base stars added their heavy pulsar cannons to the fray and the Al'kesh were quickly reduced in number. The Ha'taks moved forward now. Their heavier shielding stopping almost ninety percent of the energy in the pulsar beams. But the remaining ten percent of the energy beam that penetrated the shielding did damage. No one shot could have destroyed a Ha'tak, but repeated shots did their damage cumulatively.

The Cylon fighters moved onto the Ha'tak's now that they were deprived of the fighter cover. But this was a battle meant for capital ships alone. The Cylon fighters began to fall. Slowly at first, then more quickly as more guns on more motherships joined in the fray, until what remained was capital ship versus capital ship. The battle strategies used by the Goa'uld had served them well for millennia. These were the same tactics they used against one another. But here, they worked not as well. The tactics were designed to raise fear in their enemy, but there enemy was not human. A cybernetic enemy knows no fear. And it showed.

But by concentrating their fire on a single target at a time, the Goa'uld were winning. It would be a hard fought victory. The Cylons had lost all of their fighter compliments. The same was true for the Ha'tak motherships and for the Al'kesh bombers. The same would not be said of the Cheops or the Shalk'ras.

Once again, the tide turned to the favour of the Goa'uld. Three base stars had fallen and two more were being systematically destroyed. The Goa'uld had their attention focused on the battle before them. They did not see a new set of six base stars as they emerged from behind a camouflage screen and attacked from the rear. The tide turned again, and now, it was a victory for the Cylons.

Anubis was brought before the Cylon Imperious Leader. And here, Anubis was granted a second opportunity to join forces with the Cylons. Only now, instead of granting the Goa'uld the rights afforded to an ally, the Cylons granted them the rights due to a serf of a vastly more powerful ruler; the Cylon Empire.

Two of Anubis' allies, Osiris and Baal, were of a different notion. They did not see any good coming from this alliance, and so they stole an Al'kesh and fled to Lord Yu's domain. The inevitable battle between Lord Yu and Anubis would not go well.

For now, the battle between the Cylon Empire and the Colonial refugees would wait. The Cylons needed to establish a foothold in this part of the universe. They needed to be re-supplied and refuelled. Their supply lines were too long to support any engagements for long. They were machines. They were patient. They would wait.


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Technical Glossary - After re-reading my own work, there are some terms that need a bit of explanation:

IRR: Individual Ready Reserve

Puta Madre: Spanish. Loosely translated it means Son-of-a-Bitch!

Madre de Dios: Spanish. Mother of God. Loosely translated it means Holy Cow!

AIM-54C: Air Intercept Missile, carried by the US Navy's F-14 fighter. Called a Phoenix.

AGM-84: Air to Ground Missile. Carried by aircraft for use against surface targets. Called a Harpoon.

AGM-119: Air to Ground Missile. Carried by aircraft for use against surface targets. Called a Penguin.

CMU: Critical Mass Unit. In terms of nanotechnology, the required number of assemblers needed to build anything.

Rail Gun: A 'gun' with an electro-magnetic device fitted to it that propels a slug without the usage of explosive force. The Navy was experimenting with them in the mid 1990's.

GDO: Garage Door Opener. Device used by SG teams to alert the SGC that they are about to come through a wormhole from off-world. Used because the SGC protects incoming wormholes with a metal iris. No GDO and the incoming object does a Splat!

Penta watt: Mathematically speaking, a rather large number. A thousand kilo watts in a mega watt. A thousand megas in a giga. A thousand gigas in a quadra. And a thousand quadras in a penta. 1x1018

Anti-aircraft weapons: Mentioned in the story. FIM-92 Stingers and MIM-23 Hawks. The Stingers are shoulder launched. The Hawk is a portable launcher currently in use by various militaries around the world including the US. It has a range of 40 kilometres, and an official ceiling of 30,000 feet. It is being phased out by the USMC.

OCSW: Objective Crew Served Weapon. Potential replacement weapon that combines the Grenade Launching Machine Gun (MK19) and a .50 calibre machine gun (M2).

MP-5N: Heckler and Koch MP-5N. It fires the 9mm cartridge at a rate of 800 rounds per minute. It is considered the main weapon for close quarters combat.

FN-P90: Fabrique Nationale Model P90. It fires the 5.7x28mm cartridge at a rate of 900 rounds per minute. Fully loaded with a 50 round magazine it weighs .88 kilos less than a fully loaded MP-5N w/ 30 round magazine.

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PATIENCE
PART 2 OF THE POTENTIALS SERIES
Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible.

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And now, on to the story...
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It had been just shy of five months since the startling announcement made by President Ryan regarding the existence of the Stargate program, of aliens, and of Colonials and Immortals. In five months, the first dome had been designed and built on Luna and the majority of Immortals had moved there. On Mars and her two moons, the Colonials had launched massive construction campaigns that were now producing above-surface living quarters at astonishing rates. One of their Forge ships was prowling through the asteroid belt sucking up raw materiel for new squadrons of fighters and for construction of a new fleet of Battlestars that would eventually join the Galactica and the Daedalus.

On Earth, the SGC was slowly being converted into a multi-national force. After having secured a treaty of sorts with a planet full of Unas, shipments of naquadah were now arriving with increasing regularity. Squadrons of fighter pilots were now based at nearby Peterson AFB. These squadrons were pulling rotational duty on and off the two Battlecruisers, while work continued on three more. Long range patrols were constantly in space, patrolling the outer reaches of the Sol System.

With the revelation of the advanced space going vessels under Air Force control, and the loan of two Air Force shuttles and two Colonial shuttles to NASA, that agency had mothballed their own shuttle fleet. The existing space station, still under construction at the time of the President's speech, had been converted to a construction crew housing facility while the first of several of joint Earth-Colonial-Immortal space stations were built.

With one fell swoop, Earth had advance nearly three hundred years in space fairing technology. Already the presence of advanced medical technologies as released by the Colonials and the Immortals were making a considerable impact on Earth. Nations that only months before had been at each others proverbial throats, were now sending soldiers and pilots to train along side one another in a common defense of the Earth, Luna, and Mars. Using the technologies created by Marius Augustus, the Immortals had built a ship yard for the creation of newer and more advanced Battlecruisers for Earth's defense. Marius' staff had taken a dozen CMUs onto a shuttle and were busily carving out five ships from a large asteroid in the Belt. These ships would become underway replenishment ships for the fleet vessels of the system.

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Elsewhere in the Galaxy

Osiris and Baal had fled to the relative safety of Lord Yu's domain following the submission of Anubis to the Cylons and Count Iblis. It had taken five months for the Council of System Lords to amass a fleet large enough to deal with the threat posed by Anubis and his new allies. It was probably the largest fleet assembled by the System Lords in their recorded history. Fifty Cheops-class cruisers, a hundred Ha'tak-class mother ships, and dozens of Shral'ka-class heavy mother ships, supported by several hundred Al'kesh bombers and thousands of Udajeet fighters. The fleet moved as one into hyperspace for the journey to the domain under control by Anubis and the Cylons.

The Tok'ra operatives aboard many of the fleet ships were unable to make contact with their controllers until the battle had been joined, and even then it was only a short series of emergency messages. The Tok'ra would be unable to do anything to assist.

The Cylons had not been idle either in the intervening months. Hundreds of base ships had been brought to that system from their home system. The 'subjects' of Anubis' home world had been pressed into slave-like conditions building ships and armaments for the Cylons. Now they had tens of thousands of fighters at their disposal. Then the combined fleets of the System Lords appeared in their space and the battle was engaged.

Al'kesh bombers went in with Udajeet fighters trying to cut a hole in the frontal line of Cylon base ships. On the Cylon side, there were four thousand fighters waiting for them. The advantage on the Cylon side was that each fighter carried a pilot, a gunner, and a command Centurion, thus they were somewhat autonomous, at least within the guidelines of their current mission. On the Goa'uld side, each Udajeet fighter had a crew of two; a pilot and a gunner. They were not as independent in their actions as their only goal was to defend their 'God'. The advantage on the Goa'uld side was in the Al'kesh bombers. More guns and more plasma torpedo bombs at their disposal. It was the Goa'uld Al'kesh bombers that fired the first round of shots. What the Goa'uld did not realize was that they had weapons that would enable them to fire at long range. The Cylon fighters were designed with short range interdiction weapons. It would prove a costly mistake.

The Al'kesh bombers came in fast and hard with Udajeet fighters in close support. Space was awash with plasma energies as torpedo bombs found and destroyed Cylon fighters. Still the Cylons did not fire back. For some reason, they had to come close to their targets before opening fire. But this escaped the attention of the dozen System Lords and their First Primes aboard the command mother ships at the rear of the formation. It did not, however, escape the attention of the Asgard probe hiding behind a cloaking screen and observing the unfolding battle.

Now the battle was set. Cylon fighters weaved and dove through the ranks of Udajeet fighters. The two fighter types were equally matched. And while they were engaged, the Al'kesh bombers made their runs at the base ships behind the screen of fighters. And while they scored some lucky hits with their bombs, they were no match for the heavy pulsar cannons that each base ship fielded. In threes and fours, the Al'kesh bombers fell to the lancing beams of pulsar fire. It seemed like hours but was only a matter of ten to fifteen minutes before the final Al'kesh met a fiery plasma death.

Now the Udajeets were on their own. Their 'Gods' called them back to defend the mother ships as now the larger capital ships moved in. Their force fields kept the withering fire of the Cylon fighters away from the hulls of the ships, but would not stand up to the pulsar fire. Now they changed tactics somewhat and engaged the base ships from a distance. But it was a case of too little too late. There were just too many of them and the tactics employed by the System Lords were designed to be used against other Goa'uld, not cybernetic enemies. The battle was not going in their favor. Lord Yu made a desperate decision, one that took him by surprise. Retreat. Retreat to form an alliance. With the Tau'ri.

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Earth, California, San Francisco
June 8th

Marius had been invited to meet Piper's family, but he was also there to speak with a few companies regarding the possibilities of joint mining ventures in the asteroid belt. His meetings were done for the day, and truthfully they had not gone well. Too many of the technologies he was offering for lease to these companies were untried and unproven in their eyes. Now he found himself standing outside a stately looking home of at least two floors, though if one counted the attic, it would be three floors. The door was ornate, more so than he would have thought, with a bit too much glass for his liking. He knocked once, twice, then waited as he could hear someone approaching. And feel them. Though it was like Cassandra had already explained to him, and if he concentrated enough, he could tell that the power signature from the other side of the door was not, in fact, a Quickening, not even a pre-Immortal one.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Piper?"

"Piper! Someone at the door for you!"

Then she appeared at the door and Marius felt his breath leave him. She was a vision of loveliness dressed almost entirely in black. It stirred feelings deep within. And it pained him, but it was the good kind of pain. She invited him in, and upon crossing the threshold, he felt something. Powerful, raw, and immensely and intensely good. He could not put it into words. She brought him into the kitchen area that was all at once small yet fully functional.

"Marco, I'd like to introduce you to my sisters. This is Phoebe, and that's Paige."

"Hmm. Piper, Phoebe, and Paige. Your mother must have liked the letter P?"

"It's a tradition in our family."

Phoebe was thinking very impure thoughts over the man her sister had brought in. A damned fine specimen of manhood if ever she had seen one. But there was something else that she could feel, like an electrical current running just under the surface. It was at once exciting and scary.

Paige was having similar feelings. And similar thoughts. But she also saw how much Piper had improved her outlook over the last few weeks and she knew it would be in bad form if she or Phoebe flirted with this hunk of a man.

"So how did your day go? Get a lot of orders?"

"Nope. Nary a one. These companies, they wouldn't know a good deal if came up and begged to bite them."

"Orders? What line of work are you in Marco?"

He looked askance at Piper.

"You didn't tell them?"

"The subject hasn't come up really. I thought I'd let you do that."

"Oh this should be fun. Phoebe, Paige, I have a question for you. Well actually two questions. First of all, do either of you two read the paper or watch the news?"

"Well we did when Piper was dating that reporter. But it's usually too depressing."

"I see. So then I don't look remotely familiar to either one of you?"

"What are you? Rock star?"

"Ah, no. Sorry Paige. Not a rock star. Though I do play guitar, it's not something I've ever tried to make a profession of. No, I've been on the news programs a lot of late. In fact, had it not been for that former boyfriend of Piper's, I daresay she and I would not have met. He did an exposé some months ago, right about the time Jack Ryan released some info that well, let's just say, upset a few notions about alien life."

"You're an alien? Oh my God!"

"No! Not an alien. I was born here on Earth. Sometime around six hundred years before the birth of Christ, in the area that is now known as Spain."

Piper led them all into the living room where Marius took a seat and began to tell his story. But he had barely begun when this thing, this human shaped thing materialized into the living room. He was in shock for all of maybe two seconds. Long enough to see the thing, whatever it was, form a fireball in its hand and throw it at Piper. Paige disappeared in a flash of light, taking Piper with her and reappeared on the far side of the room. Whatever this creature was, it meant to do harm and Marius pulled his sword from beneath his jacket.

"I've no idea what you are, but you are not welcome here. Leave. Or I shall be forced to kill you."

"Human. You can not kill me. Step aside. I'm here only for the Witches."

"Whatever."

Marius took a swing and sliced the creature down its front before pivoting on one foot and bringing the blade up and across its neck. The head came away from the body easily enough and then both parts dissolved in a flash of fire and ash.

"Uhm. Yeah. Ok. Well, that's never happened to me before. What the hell was that?"

"Would you believe a demon?"

"A demon. Uhm, sure. If that was a demon, then who are the witches he mentioned?"

"We are. The three of us. In magical circles, we are known as the Charmed Ones. Three witches who safeguard innocents from evil."

"I think I need a drink. Hell, twenty-six hundred years of life, and now I meet demons and witches. No, that's not true, I mean, there is Cassandra to think about, and oh my, what a lot to think about with that one!"

"What do you mean? Who's Cassandra?"

"Cassandra is one of us, an Immortal. She's also a witch. A very old and very powerful witch."

"I'd love to meet her sometime."

"I'm sure that can be arranged. Though you've already met her Piper."

"I have? Oh, wait a minute, she was at that party at your friend's place a few months ago, the night we met."

"That's the one."

"She's a witch?"

"Yep. In fact she managed to correct a notion I had about you being one of us, a pre-Immortal. She could feel your power, but she told me in no uncertain terms that what I felt, the power I felt, was not that of either Immortal or Yet-To-Be-Immortal. And now that I've seen your powers with my own eyes, I know just what she meant."

"So just how old is she, anyways?"

"Well, I never ask any woman her age. That would be downright impolite of me. But she's older than me, by at least six hundred years."

"Is she the eldest of your kind?"

"No. Not hardly. Methos has at least six thousand years on her."

"Six thousand? Oh my."

"Yeah, well even I get to call him 'Old Man'. He was around before the pyramids were built."

"Oh wow!"

"What's it like, Marius, to see so much history pass before your eyes?"

"Ya know, Phoebe, people have asked me that a thousand times before, and I'll give you the only answer I have. For you, a century ago is the past, it's history. For me, it was a lifetime. I've seen so much and done so much that for me it was just another day. I mean, even Isaac didn't know he was making history when that apple fell on him."

"You knew Newton?"

"No, not really. We traveled in the same circles once upon a time. He was President of Cambridge when I was there getting a law degree. A most formidable debater as I recall."

----------------------------------------

The talking continued well into the afternoon and Marius excused himself to return to his hotel. He wanted to change out of his suit and into something far more comfortable for his date that evening with Piper. His phone rang just as he stepped out of the Halliwell's home.

"Ramos."

"How goes the business in San Francisco?"

"About as well as can be expected Marcus. These companies wouldn't know a good deal if it came up and bit them on the ass. I'm beginning to think we need to set up our own manufacturing capability on Luna rather than..."

"Rather than what Marius? Marius? Are you there? Marius?"

But Marius couldn't answer. He'd felt something prick his neck like a mosquito sting but by the time his hand reached up to swat at it, he was falling to the ground.

----------------------------------------

"Hey Piper? What time did Marius say he was picking you up for dinner?"

"I forgot to ask. Let me see if he's still outside."

Piper came out just in time to see several men loading a very unconscious looking Marius into a non-descript black panel van with darkly tinted windows. The van pulled away from the curb in a big hurry and she ran out into the street to try and read the license plate numbers only to find Marius' cell phone on the ground. She didn't see the plate numbers. She picked up the cell phone and heard someone speaking from it.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"Who is this?"

"I am Marcus Constantine. What have you done with Marius?"

"Mr. Constantine. My name is Piper Halliwell. Marius was just here, but I realized I'd forgotten to ask him something. So I cam outside just in time to see several men loading him into a van and driving away."

"Stay where you are, Ms. Halliwell. Someone will be contacting you shortly. I have to cut this connection now, but someone will be back with you in a few moments."

"Is Marius alright?"

"I have no idea. I need to go."

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The next call Marcus placed was to Adam Pierson at the SGC.

"Pierson."

"Adam. I need help."

"What's wrong?"

"Marius. I think he's been taken."

"Taken?"

"Yes, taken. By parties unknown. His current love interest was a witness to the tail end of the kidnapping."

"San Francisco? I'll be there soonest."

----------------------------------------

"Jack!"

"Adam?"

"Marius is in trouble. I need to get to him."

"Where is he?"

"San Francisco."

"We've got a shuttle topside. Let's go!"

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About ten minutes after Marcus' call to Adam, Marius awoke in the back of a van. His legs and wrists secured by chains.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why, Mr. President, I am the man that will examine you in detail. To see what makes you and your kind tick."

"Watch it asshole. That's not legal."

"I am quite aware of the pithy laws of this country. They do not apply to myself nor to my colleagues. Come along quietly, Dr. Ramos, and we will leave Ms. Halliwell here, safe and unharmed. Resist, and I will issue orders that she be made to join you. We will take her if only to keep you quiet."

"The hell you will! I am Marius Augustus. Citizen of Luna. President of the Immortal Council. Commander-in-Chief of the Immortal Military. Consider yourself challenged, asshole."

Marius made to raise his sword in salute, but realized too late that he was securely locked in by the many chains around his body. Nonetheless, his captors chose that moment to shoot him with a second dart. Not a tranquilizer dart as he initially thought, but a dart loaded with cyanide. As he felt the poison rush through his veins, he gritted his teeth hard and felt the hidden transmitter in his back-most molar buzz gently into his jaw; a concealed emergency locator beacon encased by a covering that resembled a cavity. The signal went out immediately to a satellite, then down to the SGC. By the time the signal had been relayed to Captain Adam Pierson, Marius had been bundled into a second van with government plates and was being driven to a nearby heliport.

"Jack. We've got a problem."

"What problem? We'll be on the ground in a few, Adam."

"No Jack. Stay in the air. The SGC just received an emergency locator beacon signal from Marius. He was against that idea, as you recall. But it is necessary for any Immortals on Earth. In the event we are taken by someone. He would only activate it if that were the case."

"What are your procedures, Adam?"

"They haven't been tested yet. We didn't anticipate anyone trying to grab one of us, at least not yet."

"Where did the signal originate?"

"Looks like a residential neighborhood in San Francisco. Should we check there first?"

"And we're down. Sam, stay with the ship. Teal'c, Adam, with me."

----------------------------------------

A quick check of the Halliwell house proved that neither Phoebe nor Paige had witnessed the kidnapping. Piper only saw the van for a moment, and beyond the description of a black van with no plates and darkly tinted windows, she hadn't seen anything else. It was at this point that Adam called Marcus back recommended to him that the abduction protocols be implemented.

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Federal Building, San Francisco
June 8th

They were finishing up the paper work that would put another serial killer on death row, when his cell phone rang.

"Mulder."

"Hey fibbie. That frequency you asked us to monitor just went ape shit. Looks like someone grabbed an Immortal. We believe it was that cigarette smoking bastard that did it."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as we can be."

"Do you have a location?"
"The Immortal was grabbed from outside a residential neighborhood in San Francisco. We're tracking a moving signal heading west."

"Get me a location as soon as you can. I'll get Scully."

"You got it Mulder."

----------------------------------------

"Who was that Mulder?"

"The guys. They told me the Immortal emergency frequency just went nuts. They think it was someone from the Consortium that grabbed an Immortal."

"With as much security as these Immortals supposedly have, I think I wouldn't want to be in that bastard's shoes when they catch him."

"This is our chance Scully. If we get to him first, they'll have to let me in to see these Grays! Then they'll have to tell me what happened to my sister!"

"Oh Mulder. Don't get your hopes up. Do they have a location yet?"

"The signal is moving west. Are you with me Scully?"

"Yes. I am. I'm going to call Skinner and then Doggett."

"You do that. I'll get us a car."

----------------------------------------

"Are you quite sure Methos?"

"I am, Constantine. Marius has been abducted. He was at Piper's home in San Francisco."

"Is she the one I met at his last dinner party?"

"The one and the same. It appears as though only he was taken. The signal we are receiving is moving west at a good rate of speed so we can only assume that it is airborne."

"Your recommendation, Methos?"

"We get him back! And we make sure whoever has done this will not threaten an Immortal, any Immortal, ever again."

"I concur. Very well. I will make the arrangements up here. Are any of the strike teams available?"

"I believe Alex's team is available. Duncan's team is presently off-world."

"Get Alexander moving. I'll get our team up here moving towards Earth as soon as possible."

"I'll be in touch Constantine."

"As will I."

----------------------------------------

"Mobilizing the Immortal troops, Adam?"

"Yes. The hostage rescue team is gearing up on Luna. We need to get Alex's team up to speed."

"You contact him. Carter, get us back to the Mountain. Quick as you can, Carter. There's no telling what they'll do to Marco."

----------------------------------------

"Adam, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Alex. Someone grabbed Marius."

"Right. I'll get my team geared up and standing by."

"We'll be on the ground in thirty minutes Alex."

----------------------------------------

"Hammond."

"Sir. Dr. Ramos has been taken."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes sir. He was with a woman friend in San Francisco. She managed to see some men as they grabbed him and took off in a black panel van. He has been grabbed by parties unknown. We have a signal from his transponder. It's moving west. I need two teams sir. Alex Phillipson's team and one of the Rainbow units at the mountain."

"I'll make the request to the President. Get him back, Colonel."

"I will sir."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. President."

"General Hammond? Is something wrong?"

"Sir. I have a formal request for the assistance of a Rainbow unit. Dr. Marco Ramos, President of the Immortal Council has been abducted by persons and parties unknown. We have a signal from his transponder moving west into Nevada."

"I'll get General Clark to release a team to you."

----------------------------------------

"Clark."

"John. It's Jack. Report to General Hammond for a mission briefing. Get your team ready."

"Roger that sir."

----------------------------------------

"General Hammond? Rainbow team one is at your disposal."

"Good. Bring your team in and we'll get this briefing underway."

----------------------------------------

While all of these events were transpiring, Spender and his colleagues were busily searching for the transponder that this Immortal, Marius, had to have on his person. One of them found it, beneath a false cavity filling in his rear-most molar. It took less than a minute to remove it and to crush it. The signal stopped. Now they continued on their way to their base in northern Canada.

----------------------------------------

"Sir. The signal stopped."

"What? How?"

"Unknown sir. We are looking at radar data for the area to correlate the signal to an aircraft. We should have that data shortly."

"Keep on it!"

"Gentlemen, get your teams ready for immediate deployment. As soon as we find that aircraft, I'll authorize you to go in and get our people back."

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Northern Canada
June 9th

An hour passed. Then two. Marius awoke to find himself strapped down to a gurney. Securely strapped. In a room with no windows and a single door.

"Ah, we're awake. Good. Now we may begin. Tell me. How does one become an Immortal?"

"Fuck you."

"Come now, Dr. Ramos, or should I say, Mr. President. It will not hurt anyone to give us this information."

"Go to hell."

"I'd rather hoped you wouldn't take this attitude with me. I know that even if we kill you, you'll just come back to life. So we're not going to torture you directly. No. That would be rather uncultured of me. Instead, I think I'll let my doctors perform a few autopsies on you."

"Won't do you any good. Our internal workings are identical to yours."

"Really? I rather doubt that. You have this most amazing ability to heal, even when your body is quite dead. Now. Observe closely."

As he turned to the side, he saw a man walk in with a scalpel. The man moved to his side and made a deep incision from the base of his neck to the top of his groin. He screamed.

"Bastard! I'll kill you!"

"Tell me what I wish to know, and it will stop."

"If I could, I would! Rat fuck bastard!"

"Do you mean to tell me that even you, as an Immortal, does not know why you are what you are?"

"None of us do!"

"A rather unique opportunity is it not? To discover why you are? To learn why you exist?"

"Fuck off!"

Hours passed. Marius was awake only sporadically. The scientists autopsied Marius after others fed him a steady diet of cyanide, arsenic, and every other poison known to man. When they got to a liter of each, they switched to nerve gases to examine his healing ability. Marius continued to die and revive each and every time, though he tried not to, as these doctors repeatedly cut into his body. They did not use any anesthesia as evidenced by his screams. He watched, barely alive and extremely horrified, as they removed his various organs, only to hear their excited reactions as his organs grew themselves anew. He could only hope that rescue would come soon. He was trying to free himself from these straps, but they were made of some material that resisted stretching. Of course, he could only guess what else they had in store for him once the current course of nerve gases was complete.

----------------------------------------
Cheyenne Mountain
June 10th

"Sir, we've got it." A technician announced the finding.

"Show me."

They had been tracking the signal, not the plane, when the signal had been lost, and so it took some hours to weed out the aircraft that had been in the air at the same time. But with the tracking data in hand, it was only a matter of time before the plane was located. And then tracked.

"This is the aircraft in question sir. It's a Gulfstream mod IV. We back-tracked it to a private air field in San Francisco and tracked it via NORAD's radar stations to a location in northern Canada. We tasked a KH-11 to the suspected area and have discovered what appears to be a clandestine base buried beneath the tundra. A follow-on tasking by a KH-12 shows significant heat sources where there should be none."

"Who has the money to build such a facility, General?"

"That's what you'll find out when you raid that base Jack."

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Northern Canada
June 11th

He was awake again after the most current course of biological agents. His body had fought off Ebola and it was an experience he definitely did not want to repeat. He had been watching them for a few minutes now as they cut into him yet again. He was at his wit's end and he could take no more of this torture. He shouted for their attention.

"Ok. You want information? I'll give you information. I'll tell you whatever you wish."

"Dr. Ramos. How very kind of you."

"But I have some requests first. I will understand if not all of my requests can be granted, but for the amount of information I am willing to trade, I sincerely hope that you will attempt to grant at least two of my requests."

"I'm listening."

"And for that I do thank you. First, no more torture. Allow me a few hours to rest and recover my sanity."

"Very well, Doctor. I will order your examination ceased for the moment."

"Thank you. I have one more request.

"Two hours to recuperate. Uninterrupted. I'm afraid the monitoring devices will be left on however. Your second request?"

"Tell me why you are doing this."

"I will consider that request."

"If I ever get out of this, I will separate your head from your neck, put it on a pike and pound it into the ground in front of the United Nations building as a warning to any nation or organization that thinks about doing this to another Immortal."

"That's a colorful threat, Dr. Ramos. I doubt very much that you will live long enough to accomplish that however."

"Perhaps. But it's something for me to dream about while answering your questions. I trust that your interrogation methods will no longer be used?"

"For now, since you are being so cooperative, I will make sure they are not used. I trust you will not attempt to leave? No matter. Escape from this facility is impossible."

Marius was exhausted from the endless hours of torture and surgeries. He placed himself into a deep meditative state to try and recover from his ordeal. Two hours would not be enough time, but he would take what he could get. There he remained, in the room in silence, until they came back into the room. Marius was grabbed and strapped to a chair, gagged, and then beaten by three heavily muscled men. Not enough to kill him, but enough to hurt him. Then He walked in. The smoking bastard himself.

"You lied. You said no more torture."

"So I lied. It's part and parcel to my profession. Now then, Mr. President. You will tell me everything we wish to know. Start with your first death."

"My first death. Here we go with the flashbacks. It was in battle. It's been so long that history has forgotten it ever occurred. I was buried in a shallow grave. When I awoke from death, I clawed my way out of the ground where another of my kind awaited my resurrection. He took me in and taught me what I need to know to survive."

Before he could continue, alarms began blaring in the facility. The old man sitting across from him grabbed a two-way radio from one of his guards and ordered the intruders captured and brought to him. Ten minutes passed, then the door opened and two trussed up persons were tossed into the room. One was tall and lanky, with dark hair. The other shorter, with red hair and alabaster skin.

"Agent Mulder and the lovely Agent Scully. Such an uncommon nuisance to see you both again."

And before Spender could say another word, the alarms began blaring again. This time, they were accompanied by explosions and gun fire and that which only Marius could describe as Zat fire.

"It appears that this facility has been compromised. I shall take my leave now. Kill them." Spender gave the order to three of his men in the room before he ran out the door and down the hallway.

Marius realized their mistake before they did. In the zeal to extract information from him, they had neglected to secure his legs to the chair. Only his arms had been tied to the arms of the chair. As one of the armed thugs made to raise his gun and fire at the red-haired woman, Marius jumped up from where he sat, still strapped to the chair, and ran the thug down, splintering the chair in the process. He then turned on the next gunman and drove him into the wall. The third wanted no part of this and made to shoot at the female agent on the ground. Marius dove into his line of fire just as he pulled the trigger, and took a pair of rounds to the heart for his trouble.

A few moments later, three members of Phillipson's squad came into the room. Amanda went to Scully's side and checked her over. Other than some nasty marks from the ropes and gag, she was fine. Connor stood by the door, covering them while Ramirez checked on his former student. One of the Rainbow troopers came in and checked on the male agent on the ground.

Scully was at a loss for words. This man that had been strapped to a chair had jumped up and taken the bullets meant for her. Now he was dying and these soldiers were doing nothing to help him. Beside her, Mulder was in a mild shock. Two more troopers came in with a stretcher and placed the man onto it. Then they all followed the troopers out of the facility. By the time they had made it outside, Marius had revived and Alex Phillipson was kneeling beside him.

"Alex. Damned glad to see ya!"

"Marius. Do you know who took you?"

"No. He never told me his name. All I can tell you is that he's an old mortal and he smokes. A lot. Every time I saw him he had a cig in his hand. As much as he smokes, I'm surprised he's still alive."

"I know who he is. I've been trying to bring him to justice for ten years."

"Who are you?"

"Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. This is my partner, Agent Dana Scully."

"You, you took a bullet for me. Why?"

"Easy, Agent Scully. You're a mortal. I'm not. I'll wake up. You wouldn't have. It was an easy choice."

"I owe you my life."

"Not necessary. Tell me what you know about that man and I'll consider us even."

"Sir. We have a pair of Tel'tacs standing by to return us to the Mountain."

"Excellent. Let's mount up and move out. Oh and Alex? Do us all a favor and torch this place but good."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Stop that."

They were airborne shortly. The two shuttles were escorted by three fighters. One of the fighters pulled out of the formation and started a strafing run on the facility, dropping large plasma bombs on the surface structures, then rejoined the formation as it flew to the Mountain at a little under Mach five. Once there, the teams dispersed to the infirmary for check-in and to the armory to turn-in their weapons. The trip to the Mountain had been a silent one. Everyone aboard the shuttle could sense the tension emanating from Marius. Marius wanted only one thing; to see the head of that smoking bastard on a pike.

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Stargate Command
Office of General Hammond
June 11th

"Jack. Your report."

"Sir. We took into custody five men. No obvious leaders. They look to be all foot soldiers. We recovered some documents and computer hardware. The facility is no more. Marius ordered Alex to torch the facility, which he did. I'm not entirely sure what went on in there, however, Alex has informed me that Dr. Ramos was tortured repeatedly. On Marius, they used various types of poisons and numerous chemical and biological agents, after which they performed dozens of autopsies. While he was still very much alive."

"Who did this?"

"The five men we captured are not being at all forth coming. However, the rescue troops on the ground were a few minutes behind a pair of federal agents that attempted to rescue Marius."

"Federal agents? Which agency?"

"Federal Bureau of Investigation. The male agent claims to know who took Marius. He claims he has been on the trail of this person for a decade."

"I see. Make sure everyone is cleared by Dr. Fraiser. Increase the security patrols. Debriefing scheduled for 0800 tomorrow."

"Yes sir!"

Hammond picked up the Red Phone again.

"Mr. President."

"General Hammond. Any news?"

"Yes sir. President Marius has been recovered. Sir, there were two federal agents on the scene that arrived just minutes before our own rescue troops. While we did not recover any of the leaders of this organization, the two FBI agents in question do claim to know who the leader is, and they claim that this man and his organization are a part of various world governments."

"I see. General, have you debriefed these agents?"

"The debriefing is scheduled for 0800 tomorrow."

"Set it up as a video teleconference. I'll have some interested parties on this side. Any organization like that one is not in the best interest of the public."

"I agree sir."

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0800 hours, June 12th
SGC/White House Situation Room Teleconference
Joined in Progress

"First of all, Marius, allow me to say that I am thankful that you are alive and well. It was disheartening to learn that you had been taken. But I am grateful that all our resources were mobilized so quickly and that we were able to locate you and effect a rescue."

"And for that, Mr. President, I will be eternally grateful to the members of the rescue teams, both mortal and Immortal alike. But the reason I was taken sir, eludes me. The man who was in charge, Agent Mulder refers to him as Spender. Why would this Spender want me? Agent Mulder? You seem to know more about this that you are letting on. Please tell us your story."

"Given what I've seen here and what you people deal with on a day to day basis, I can tell that you are open to extreme possibilities. So with that in mind I'll begin this story. And I'll ask Scully to jump in where ever appropriate.

"The information I have on how the conspiracy was formed is primarily speculation, based on what little evidence my partner and I have managed to obtain. We have had, over the years, a lot of evidence that has been destroyed or classified by the government. It is my understanding that this conspiracy began in 1947 with the Roswell crash. Yes, there was a spaceship of some kind that crashed into the desert outside of Roswell, New Mexico. The survivors of that crash were apparently on a survey mission, seeking evidence of the original inhabitants of this planet. I say original, because they view us as a parasite that is meant only to serve as breeders for more of their kind.

"The original inhabitant is a virus. A virus that resembles a thick viscous substance that is pitch black in coloration. We've termed this substance black oil or black cancer. When this virus invades a body, it takes it over and the result is a new alien life form, that emerges after a period of incubation violently from the host. Think of the movie Alien, and you get an idea of how the alien life form emerges from it's host.

"In 1947, the alien survey craft and its survivors were picked up by a secret government agency. This agency came to an agreement with the aliens. In exchange for their cooperation, the human members of the conspiracy would become puppet kings of the aliens. The aliens wanted their help to identify certain types of humans that would serve either as human incubators or who would contribute their DNA for experimentation into the creation of a human-alien hybrid.

"That's unbelievable!"

"Sir, that's as believable as it gets. The rest is far worse. This group of humans in the conspiracy, determined to become more than just puppet rulers, set about a campaign that has lasted a half century to produce a vaccine against the black oil. But their goals are not as altruistic as you might believe. They planned on vaccinating only the members of the conspiracy and their families, not on giving that vaccine to the entire world. They want power.

"To this end, they have authorized the kidnap of and experimentation of numerous human subjects. These subjects are taken mysteriously. Some are returned, many are not. My own sister was taken by them when I was twelve. These men will stop at nothing to enslave their fellow man. They have killed my father, killed Scully's sister, abducted Scully and given her cancer. They harvested all of her ova, Mr. President. She is, or so we believed, barren."

"You are no longer barren Agent Scully?"

"I was taken again sir. This time, they returned to me some of my ova, although how this was accomplished I could not begin to guess. This resulted in the birth of a son, William, who I have had to give up for adoption, so that these men could not get their hands on my son. They tried several times shortly after my William was born. Unsuccessfully I might add."

"Agent Mulder, I was told that these men are members of the government?"

"I have seen Spender numerous times at the FBI. He seems to have free reign of the place."

"Dan? You care to comment on that?"

"Mr. President, I have never heard of any man named Spender. Agent Mulder, are you quite certain that he works for the FBI?"

"Director Murray, no I am not certain that he works there. However, he was a frequent visitor, and I never saw him wear a visitor's badge. He wore no badge of any kind in the numerous times I saw him either in AD Skinner's office or AD Kersh's office."

"Skinner and Kersh are involved in this?"

"For his part, Skinner was an unwitting partner to them. They had something over him initially and so when he was our supervisor, they were able to control him. When Kersh took over as our supervisor, Spender and his associates implanted nanites into AD Skinner to keep him under control. Kersh they were able to manipulate simply because they promised him the directorship of the FBI. The man wants nothing more than power and he will do whatever is necessary to achieve it."

"Agent Mulder. Would you prefer that we bring in AD Skinner or AD Kersh?"

"Given a choice, Mr. Director, I'd rather have Skinner there than Kersh."

"I'm having someone send for him. He should be here shortly."

"Back to your story, Agent."

"Yes, Mr. President. The group of conspirators call themselves the Consortium. They have used the guise of alien abductions to further their inhuman research. Cloning. Biological warfare. Genetic engineering. It is my guess that they saw in an Immortal, if they could duplicate the Immortality factor, the ability to create a super soldier, one that would be loyal to their wants and needs."

"Enough. I do not want trash like this operating in our government. I am authorizing, as of this moment, a task force to bring these people to justice. Agents Mulder and Scully, I would like the two of you to head this task force. For the duration of this investigation, I am directing General Hammond to provide you with office space within the SGC, as it is, without a doubt, the most secure location from which you can operate. How many agents do you feel justified in asking for?"

"As many as Director Murray can spare sir. Though to be honest, I doubt many would want to work for the paranormal division, sir."

"I am familiar with your reputation Agent Mulder. I am also aware that you and Agent Scully have the highest solve rate and case closure rate at the Bureau. You stated previously that this Consortium is international in nature?"

"Yes sir."

"One moment, Agent. AD Skinner has just arrived."

"AD Skinner, Agent Mulder has been filling us in on some rather unique details of your activities with a man named Spender. Care to comment?"

"Sir. With respect. I can not."

"You are refusing an order from your President?"

"Sir. I am sir."

"They know about the nanites, Skinner."

"What? How? Oh I see. Mulder. Then you understand sir, why I can not divulge any details. To do so would mean my death."

"General Hammond, is there anything the SGC can do about this?"

"We've dealt with nanites before, Mr. President. I'm sure we can."

"If the SGC can not, then the Ancients can and will. This is a threat to mortal and Immortal alike. It must be dealt with immediately."

"On that I am also in agreement."

"Tok'Ra? How long have you been listening to us?"

"I have always been here Marius. Mr. President, you and your kind were warned what would happen should one of my 'children' be taken?"

"I was. All I ask is that you heal this man so that he can assist us in bringing these people to justice."

The gaseous cloud seemed to pause for a moment, then winked out, only to reappear in the Situation Room of the White House. It paused for another moment, then engulfed AD Skinner. After a few seconds, it vanished yet again only to reappear at the SGC.

"He has been healed. All traces of nanites have been removed from his body."

"I, for one, do not want you as an enemy Tok'Ra. AD Skinner, please tell us of your role in this conspiracy."

"Yes, Mr. President. I do not know what just happened, but I do feel a lot better. But as to my role in this conspiracy. I was ordered to task Agents Mulder and Scully with various assignments designed to bring to light information the Consortium needed. With their authority, they could speak to any number of individuals, all in the name of Justice, and not be suspected of any ulterior motives. To this end, they were occasionally allowed to see the truth of the conspiracy, only to have any evidence disappear, either destroyed or classified. The members of this consortium appear to me, in any case, to have infiltrated the highest echelons of numerous world governments. Their agents travel with diplomatic passports."

"Will you work with Mulder and Scully, under them, I should say, to bring to light evidence of this conspiracy?"

"I will Mr. President."

"Dan, work with Agent Mulder to hand-pick his task force. I want these people stopped and brought to justice as soon as possible. We have other things we should be dealing with."

"Yes, Mr. President."

It had been an eventful conference. For his part, Marius had pledged the support of Luna and her Immortal denizens in the aid of the Anti-Consortium Task Force, as it was being called by Agent Scully. The two agents in question were given adjoining offices on Level 23, assigned a pair of assistants, and were set to work. Guards in the corridors were doubled, coming from the ranks of the Rainbow team that had been permanently assigned to the SGC, and from the Immortal Strike Teams. After several days of meetings and teleconferences with Director Murray, two dozen FBI agents, most fresh from the Academy, were assigned to work out of Peterson AFB, which was the nearest surface installation to the SGC. With the addition of SFs from various world militaries, both Peterson and Cheyenne were now impenetrable fortresses that a member of the Consortium would be insane to consider breaching.

Spender and his colleagues were still hurting somewhat from their first run in with Immortals. But they had the technology to travel to Luna and take more Immortals for their experiments. And this is what they attempted to do, shortly after word of the task force set up against them reached them via AD Kersh.

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Luna Command Center
June 15th

"General Desiree? Satellites are picking up a ship, unknown configuration, headed our way."

"Any IFF?"

"Negative. Power source unknown. There doesn't appear to be any weapons, either. It's moving quite fast and headed directly for Dome Ryan."

"Alert security to expect intruders. Pass a message along to the Daedalus and ask them for fighter support."

"Sir!"

The ship in question was of the same type the Consortium had been using for several years to fake the alien abductions. But while such ships were invisible to human based radar systems, they were very visible to the LIDAR systems employed by the Immortals and by the Daedalus. Before the unidentified craft in question could land, it was surrounded by F-302 fighters from the Daedalus. The pilots of the craft, seeing no alternative, landed in the open hangar near Dome Ryan and upon their disembarkation, were greeted by Immortal security.

"Greetings gentlemen. I am Mako. First Protector of Luna. Would you care to talk now? Or later at the SGC?"

"Foster, Paul B. Lieutenant. US Marine Corps. Serial number 2345761233."

"Bradley, John H. Major. US Marine Corps. Serial number 2345689988."

"Well, Lieutenant. Major. If you would come with me, we'll get you transferred down to the planet while some friends of mine take your ship apart."

----------------------------------------

"Marius."

"Hello, Mr. President."

"Marcus Constantine. Would you please stop calling me that? Every time some one does, I'm looking over my shoulder for Jack Ryan."

"Hehehe. Of course Marius. We've had a little incident here. Two men, claiming to be US Marine Corps, were captured attempting to land near Dome Ryan. They'll give nothing but name, rank, and serial number."

"Any idea why they were there?"

"Possibly to attempt the abduction of another Immortal. Both were armed with dart pistols. The darts in question are loaded with cyanide."

"Wonderful. Ok. Transfer them down here. Time for a little interrogation."

"Mako will ring down with them shortly."

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Marius went off in search of Jack O'Neill. He found him in a meeting with General Hammond.

"Jack. General Hammond. I've just gotten off the comms with Constantine on Luna. Apparently, two men were captured attempting to gain access to Dome Ryan. They had in mind to abduct another Immortal, seeing as they were carrying pistols loaded with cyanide darts. Both men claim to be Marines."

"Oh that's not good. Where are they now?"

"Our First Protector, Mako, will be ringing down with them shortly."

"First Protector?"

"A translation of a title from Ancient Rome. Loosely translated, it means Chief of Police. And for Mako, a man that's been a US Marshall since that service was started, it was appropriate."

"Major Ramos to the Ring Room!"

"I think that's my cue, General. With your permission?"

"Of course. Jack? Go with him. Read them their rights. We'll convene an Article 32 as soon as possible."

"Yes sir!"

"Jack?"

"Marco?"

"What's an article 32?"

"The cursory investigation that leads to a full blown court martial."

"And what could these two men get, if they are convicted?"

"Kidnapping for the purposes of medical experimentation? Death penalty."

"Think we could use some of those Goa'uld memory devices on them? To help them with their memories of course."

"I think that can be arranged. Maybe a Zatarc test to verify the truth of their statements too."

"Oh man. I'd hate to be on your bad side."

----------------------------------------

"Mako. Friend. Are these the two miscreants that attempted to abduct one of my citizens?"

"They are indeed. These weapons were found on their person, and there was what appears to be a primitive stasis chamber in their ship. Their ship is like nothing I have seen. No wings. No discernible power source. No obvious weapons. Your staff on Luna said to tell you they will do all they can to learn about that ship."

"Excellent. Now, if you would escort these two gentlemen to the conference room, we can begin. Article 32, wasn't it Colonel?"

"That's correct, Major. The penalty for their crime is death by firing squad. And believe you me, I think just about everyone here will be volunteering for that duty."

"We might have to hold a lottery to decide who gets to pull the trigger. Ya know, if it were up to me, instead of wasting a bullet on these two, we could let an Immortal do it. Only an Immortal can properly remove someone's head so quickly and efficiently. It's what we do best, swords and duels. Do you not agree Protector Mako?"

"An excellent suggestion, Mr. President."

"I'll give that idea some thought. What do you two think of that? Death by firing squad or death by beheading. Tough choice if you ask me."

"Fuck off. I want a lawyer. I want to make a phone call."

"Lawyer eh? I suppose we'll have to call the JAG in on this. But I'm sure they'll recommend an article 32 on the issue in any case. Particularly since General Hammond is asking for one. Then it's off to the firing squad."

"For what? For kidnapping an alien? Hell, sir, they should be giving us medals for that!"

"Do I look like an alien to you son?"

"Well no. But that's not the point. All the things we could learn after dissecting one of your kind! Hell, they promised to inject me with the Immortality serum once they developed it!"

"Idiot child. One does not become Immortal because of an injection! One is either born to Immortality or not. There is no way of changing you into one otherwise. I shall enjoy your interrogation." Marius would indeed enjoy their interrogation.

----------------------------------------

"Chegwidden."

"AJ! You old son of a buck!"

"I'll be damned. George? Hell, man, it's been what, twenty years?"

"Something like that. Imagine my surprise when I call in to get a JAG only to find you at its helm. Long way from the teams, AJ."

"Yeah, well, I guess I couldn't stay twenty-something forever."

"Neither could I. Listen AJ, the reason I called is we need a JAG here. I've got two Marine Corps officers in custody on charges of attempted abduction."

"You want to convene an Article 32?"

"Yes. There are national security, hell, planetary security issues here AJ. The person or persons they attempted to abduct were residents of Luna."

"Immortals?"

"Yes. They have admitted to wanting the Immortal for medical experimentation."

"I see. Sounds pretty clear cut to me, George."

"I agree. However, we want whomever ordered these two to abduct an Immortal. We also want to know how they got their hands on an experimental space craft, the likes of which no one in any of the four branches will admit to ever seeing, let alone owning."

"Interesting and interesting. Alright George, I'll get my best team on the case. Where should I send them?"

"Peterson AFB. I'll have my XO meet them."

"Tell your XO to expect myself and my team. As this is the first case involving the military and Immortals, I want to make sure all the details are attended to."

"See you real soon AJ."

----------------------------------------

After the two prisoners had been escorted to secured quarters and Mako had returned to Luna, Marius placed a call to Luna to speak with Cierdwyn.

"Hello Cierdwyn."

"Marius. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"You've heard, I assume, of the my recent abduction?"

"Of course. I am glad that you were rescued."

"About that. I understand why what was done, was done. In their shoes, knowing nothing about Immortals and thinking I would be justified, I would have done the same thing. It's not the idea that I disagree with. It's the method. I was tortured. Repeatedly dissected while still alive. I've never hated mortals until this very moment. I'm doing all I can to deal with this, but some help might be necessary. I don't know what do, Cierdwyn."

"Want to schedule an appointment?"

"If you could, yes."

"I'll go down on the next shuttle."

"Thanks Cierdwyn."

"Anytime Mr. President."

"Stop that."

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Cheyenne Mountain
June 17th

The team of SG-1 was in the briefing room going over contact data brought back by SG-4 regarding their recent trip through the Stargate to a planet called Adelphi. It was to be a standard meet and greet. A blinding flash of light later and Thor sat at the head of the table.

"Thor! Buddy. How's it going?"

"It goes well O'Neill. General Hammond, please forgive my intrusion. There is a problem that you must address."

"What problem?"

"The Asgard High Council has been approached by Lord Yu. He is representing the Goa'uld Council of System Lords. Recently the Goa'uld Anubis joined forces with the enemy of the Colonials, the Cylons. An attack force of several hundred Goa'uld mother ships engaged in battle with the Cylon/Anubis forces, with the result being that less than a dozen mother ships survived the engagement. The Goa'uld Council has requested assistance from the Asgard in negotiating a temporary truce with Earth and her allies for the purpose of dealing with Anubis and the Cylon Empire. For this reason, we are asking all interested parties to attend an intergalactic conference. We would like for this conference to be held on Earth as we feel that other planets on the Protected Planets list who are at an approximate level of civilization as yours, would feel more at home."

"I will need to speak to my superiors about this. How can we contact you Thor?"

"I will leave a signal device with you. Contact me when you have an answer."

"One question Thor. How many will attend this conference?"

"Based on attendance at the last intergalactic conference, approximately two thousand worlds and empires will be represented."

"And that translates to how many?"

"Each delegation may send up to ten delegates, though only one can actually vote on conference matters. For this conference, we will also expect a delegation from the Colonials and one from the Immortals. While Earth may elect to send the full amount of delegates, the Asgard request that O'Neill be given the voting power on behalf of the Earth delegation."

"I will pass that along to my superiors."

"Thank you."

In a flash of light, Thor was gone, leaving six members of the SGC looking at one another. Needless to say, the mission to Adelphi was postponed until this new matter could be dealt with properly. General Hammond left the room to speak with the President to brief him on the news from the Asgard.

"Mr. President."

"General Hammond. This is becoming a habit. Good news or bad?"

"I would say good, sir. Thor of the Asgard High Council has just left us with a bit of rather interesting news. The last intergalactic conference was just late last year, yet they wish to call a new one. They want us to host it, sir."

"Us as in the SGC? Or us as in Earth?"

"Earth sir. Approximately two thousand delegations of up to ten members each. We'd need a small city to host that many people, sir."

"That's a lot of delegates. Alright. I'll get my people working on it. May I suggest General that all SG teams be recalled to serve as security forces for this conference?"

"An excellent idea, Mr. President. I'll ask Marius for additional security forces and of course all of our Battlecruisers and their fighter squadrons will be on hand to provide air interdiction duties."

"Good. I'll get back to you General."

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White House
Oval Office
June 17th

"Arnie."

"Jack?"

"That was General Hammond at Stargate Command. They've just had a visit from the Asgard. They want Earth to host an intergalactic conference to deal with a new threat."

"What sort of threat?"

"Apparently, Anubis and the Cylons have joined forces. They've already wiped out a Goa'uld task force. The survivors of that battle went to the Asgard and asked them to approach us about a temporary truce to fight this new threat."

"So how many delegates are we talking here? A dozen? A hundred?"

"Uhm, no. Two thousand member worlds and empires. Each with one voting delegate. But each delegate can have a staff of up to nine members."

"That's. That's, Jack, that's twenty thousand people!"

"True. And we have two weeks to put everything together."

"Oh shit! It takes a lot longer to put something like that together! Two weeks?"

"That's what the man said."

"Any ideas, Jack?"

"How many cities in the US are geared towards conventions? While New York or DC would be nice, securing either of these two would be a nightmare. Two nightmares even."

"Vegas?"

"Maybe. Get the governor of Nevada and the Mayor of Las Vegas on a secure line, Arnie."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Call is ready Jack."

"Governor Mitchell? Mayor Thomas?"

"Mr. President. Your Chief of Staff tells us that we may be of some assistance to you?"

"I have a rather tall order to fill gentlemen and I sincerely hope that you may be able to fill it."

"Ask away sir."

"You are familiar with the press conference some five months ago regarding extraterrestrial life? Yes? Good. One of our allies has requested that Earth host an intergalactic conference. We can expect up to twenty thousand visitors."

"The city of Las Vegas can handle that easily, Mr. President."

"Gentlemen, there is also a time factor involved here. We have two weeks until the conference begins and we can expect it to run for a week to ten days."

"Two weeks?!"

"That is correct Mr. Mayor."

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That evening
Peterson AFB
June 17th

The briefing by Admiral Chegwidden earlier that day had been less than informative. Commander Harmon Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie had been rushed all day briefing two others on their current case load and then rushed home to pack and grab a suitcase apiece before driving out to Andrews where they would meet Admiral Chegwidden for the flight to Peterson. All they knew was that two Marine Corps officers had been arrested on Luna and charged with the attempted abduction of an Immortal. The Pentagon had passed this call along to Adm. Chegwidden in the hopes that such a high profile case could be handled quietly. In point of fact, the case was passed along to Admiral Chegwidden before Spender and his associates could intervene.

But still, it was too early to tell how the case would go. First up was the requisite Article 32 Investigation and based on the results of that, the trial counsel would recommend further actions to the JAG. The convening authority here was the Air Force in the guise of one Major General George S. Hammond. And while the two men in question had not violated the UCMJ per se, they had violated an international treaty. Or was that an interplanetary treaty? As their plane pulled to a stop, the three officers could see a man waiting for them on the ramp. He was standing besides a Hummer and holding a rather large umbrella as it was raining this night.

"Admiral Chegwidden?"

"Yes?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you down to the mountain to see General Hammond."

"After you Colonel."

"Colonel O'Neill, do you work with any of these Immortals?"

"I do, ma'am. I have one of them on my team."

"And what team would that be?"

"SG-1."

"The flagship team? The first team created?"

"Correct Commander."

"Why didn't the Air Force JAG want to try this case?"

"The SGC, as you'll soon learn, has teams from every branch of the US military and teams from numerous countries. The General heard you were the best and he wanted the best for this case. It's the first case of its kind and it's my understanding that the two men in custody, well, we want to know who gave them their orders. They haven't cracked yet."

"You've questioned them?"

"Not to worry, Commander. We had an attorney present just to make sure they weren't coerced or anything like that. The attorney in question is Major Stan Kovacek and he is the CO of SG-9, our diplomatic contact team."

"The two men were captured on Luna, correct?"

"Yep. Their spacecraft is unlike any we've ever seen. They thought they were being cute with their stealth tech. But what they failed to realize is that our sensors are decidedly more advanced than anything currently in use on Earth. The C&C on Luna had them the minute they left Earth. We had them surrounded as they pulled to a hover outside Dome Ryan on Luna."

"Dome Ryan? Is that named for the President?"

"I'm not sure. Ah, here we are. Airman, take these bags down to the VIP rooms on level 23. This way please. General Hammond is down on level 26."

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Level 23
Offices of Mulder and Scully
June 18

"Can you believe the nerve they had to try and pull off a second abduction?"

"I think, Scully, that Spender is getting nervous. This whole SGC/Colonial/Immortal thing has got to be a serious kink in his plans. Before the President's announcement, he only had to worry about the Grays and the odd rebel colonist and bounty hunter. Now he's got a whole other mess on his plate."

"He's thinking of ways to get his hands on a symbiote I would guess."

"That would not be a good thing."

Reports from their task force agents were coming in daily. With an Executive Order to give them credibility in their search for the truth and real help from the CIA, they were obtaining more and more evidence that would prove damning in court, should this ever come to trial. Already, they had learned, the Immortal Council had issued a decree to bring evidence of this conspiracy to light. As promised, a small team of Immortals were assigned to help them with the search. Felicia Martins, John Cage, and Paul Kinman had requested and been assigned to the ACTF. Each brought unique abilities to the task force and each had contacts with various criminal organizations that could obtain the information for them. Where information could not be obtained legally, it was stolen by Felicia. When any member of the task force needed to get out of a situation in a hurry, either Cage or Kinman were available to make the pick-up.

The members of the Consortium were finding, much to their dismay, their sources of funding drying up as governments around the world began serious house cleanings to ferret out the sources of monetary support the Consortium had obtained over the previous five decades.

----------------------------------------
Las Vegas
Office of the Mayor
June 18th

"Mr. Mayor, what you are asking is overwhelming! It takes a year to plan a major conference and you want us to do it in two weeks?"

"Sue, the President is counting on us. My suggestion is to let the hotels do what they do best. You've got a dozen staff members on your Conventions committee to help you out. Get together with the heads of the hotels and lay it out for them. You'll also need to figure out crowd control procedures. As much as I'd like to meet an alien, somehow I doubt our citizens want that. Too much fear in them instilled by Hollywierd. So we need to cordon off a big section of the strip and place all manner of checkpoints there. Tell the hotels, that for the duration of the conference, their employees will have to remain in-house. That should alleviate some of the bottlenecks at the checkpoints. Get to work Sue. We have far too little time to pull off something of this nature."

"Yes Mr. Mayor. I'll get right on it."

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Next Afternoon
Conference room
June 19th

With over one hundred thousand hotel rooms available in Las Vegas, it was a city that was definitively suited to conventions. But unlike the normal conventions and conferences that usually took place in that city, this one would bring together delegates from places other than Earth. At this first meeting were the representatives from every major hotel in Las Vegas, along with consultants from the police department, the sheriff's department, and the local national guard battalion. It was a daunting task that lay before them. Already they had planned to use several of the smaller hotels as living quarters for the vast numbers of hospitality staff the other hotels would need. A first draft of the plan had a sizeable portion of the Strip closed off and a total of thirty hotels within the closed off section. Each delegation was to have a total of twenty rooms at its disposal.

It took them the better part of thirty hours over a two day period to come up with what they thought of as a workable plan. The day following the end of the initial planning sessions, Susan Meyers, the woman Mayor Thomas had placed in charge of this conference reported back on the committee's progress. The amount of manpower required staggered the Mayor and he immediately put in a call to Governor Mitchell who pledged the support of the Nevada National Guard to help police the Conference area.

Governor Mitchell placed a call of his own later that day to President Ryan and informed him that the task could be done, but only with a lot of help. Mitchell informed Ryan that he would be activating select National Guard units in Nevada to help the Las Vegas law enforcement agencies with their duties.

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Level 23
Offices of Mulder and Scully
June 22nd

Very early that morning, information had come to them via the Lone Gunmen of a possible location for a meeting the upper echelons of the Consortium would be holding in New York City. It had been pure luck that one of their search routines had chanced upon an unsecured email regarding security concerns for this meeting. Information in hand, they had called Mulder on his cell phone and he in turn had called in Scully.

From their office in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, they had placed calls to their agents in the field. The meeting was scheduled for seven thirty that evening. It gave barely enough time to plan and stage the raid. Information in hand, Mulder briefed General Hammond, and requested a strike team be readied to move in on the meeting and round up those present. General Hammond assented to the request and the two Immortal strike teams were readied.

They wanted to capture as many of the Consortium members alive and so the strike teams would be issued Zat guns and Intar loaded weapons. The Intars gave much the same result as a Zat except that more than one shot would not kill the target. Or vaporize it.

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West 46th Street
New York City
1910 hours
June 22nd

The Immortal strike teams were in place. They had as backup two SG teams, and one Rainbow team. Slowly the two teams moved into place and at fifteen past the hour they were ready to pounce on their targets. No one had agreed with Marius' role in the plan, yet he had insisted. They had identified the room where the meeting was taking place and the first part of the raid went into action. Marius activated his own personal force shield and then ringed down into the meeting room.


"Greetings gentlemen. And ladies. I must say, I am surprised it was so easy to find you. Did you not think the warning passed along by the Ancients to the leaders of this world was meant for you? Did you think you could operate with impunity and take any Immortal anywhere for your devious experiments? Well? Have you anything to say before I pronounce judgment on all of you?" He had withdrawn his sword as he made this last statement.

It was Spender who spoke for all of them.

"I do not know how you came to find us here. What we have done is for the betterment of man kind. You are not one of us. You are a mere aberration on human kind. A mutation that should be put down once and for all. If we can not control you, then no one should have the benefit of your presence. You can not be in two places at once, even if you are Immortal. You may be here, but others of our group are at this moment taking into custody the children of President Ryan. If you value their lives at all, you will surrender now."

Outside, the assembled raiders had heard all that was transpiring within. One of the Rainbow troopers put out an urgent call to the Secret Service and alerted them to the threat against the President's children.

"I see. Well then, as I have no other option. I will surrender."

It was the go word they had agreed upon. Duncan's team moved in first, taking the guards around the perimeter easily. With the perimeter secured, the two SG teams moved in to take over Duncan's positions. Then Duncan's and Alex's teams surged ahead into the club on West 46th Street.

"But before I do surrender, you never did answer my question. Why are you doing this?"

Spender would not get the chance to answer that question except in a courtroom. Suddenly the room was filled with Zat and Intar fire and before Spender could utter another word, he was down on the ground, the victim of six Intar shots. All in all, it had been a very successful raid. A dozen guards had been taken, quite alive, along with the man known as Spender. In the meeting room, they had captured in addition to Spender, four men and two women. But one of the men had pressed a silent alarm switch and by the time the prisoners were being moved outside, the address on West 46th Street had been surrounded by dozens of police cars from the New York City police department.

As the police shouted for them to put their weapons down and their hands up, several shuttles decloaked, startling a few policemen into opening fire on the shuttles. Shouts of 'Cease fire!' reverberated throughout the previously quiet neighborhood as the lead officers from the NYPD struggled to get a grip on the situation. The prisoners had been knocked to the ground by the Immortals on the strike teams and those same Immortals were now surrounded by two heavily armed SG teams and one rather ticked off Rainbow team. Angry because these police officers had fired on their ride home.

One police officer, the ranking lieutenant on the scene, shouted out his orders.

"Put your weapons down now!"

To which Major Domingo Chavez of the Rainbow team returned with "You first!"

A stalemate. No one on the ACTF wanted to shoot at the police officers as they were just doing their jobs. As for the police, what they saw were the heavier weapons worn by these commandoes. They did not want to fire either, if only because they were afraid of what those heavier weapons would do to them. One of the shuttles landed disgorging several men and one woman. One of the men picked up a bullhorn and made his presence known to one and all.

"Attention. I am Special Agent Mulder of the FBI. You are interfering with a matter of planetary security. Please lower your weapons so that we may move these prisoners to a secure facility."

"Agent Mulder. I am Lieutenant Rodgers of the New York City police department. Until this matter is resolved to our satisfaction, no one will be allowed to leave this area. Now, please put your weapons down, or we will be forced to open fire."


And while all of this was occurring, one of the shuttle pilots had radioed back to the SGC and was broadcasting to them the events below. General Hammond picked up the Red Phone again and spoke to the President and told him the current situation. It happened that Jack Ryan had been in a conference at that moment with Director Murray of the FBI and so he placed General Hammond on speaker phone. As soon as Dan Murray learned of the current events, he moved to grab another phone to call the SAC in New York City. Within moments of that call, forty-odd agents of the New York FBI field office were out the door and rushing to the scene of the standoff.

----------------------------------------
West 46th Street
New York City
1930 hours
June 22nd

More and more police units had taken up positions at the scene of this standoff. They were supported now by a full SWAT team that had deployed into the nearby buildings into over watch positions. Each SWAT sniper now had a heavily armed commando in his sights. With a screech of tires and a blaring of sirens, several more vehicles pulled up. One of the snipers remarked to another, 'Oh great. More feds.'

"Lieutenant Rodgers, I presume?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"SAC Daniel Chalmers, New York Field Office. A bit of a situation here I believe?"

"Who the hell called you?"

"The President called me, sir, because you are interfering with the capture of several wanted terrorists. Now, if you would kindly call off your personnel, we can complete our work here and leave."

"The fuck you say! I'm not taking your word for it! My men and I will stay here until I hear otherwise from my superiors."

"Such an unfortunate attitude."

----------------------------------------

"Murray."

"Sir. SAC Chalmers, sir. The local on-scene police commander, one Lieutenant Rodgers, has informed me that until he learns otherwise from his superiors, he will continue to hold our personnel hostage. He has been most impolite and colorful in his word usage. Your orders sir?"

"Stand by one."

----------------------------------------

"Mayor's Office. How my I help you?"

"I must speak with Mayor Santorelli, please."

"Is this an emergency?"

"Yes."

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"Daniel Murray, Director of the FBI."

"One moment please Mr. Murray."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. Murray? To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Mr. Mayor, we have a small problem that we hope you can assist us with."

"Who's 'we'?"

"I'm sitting here with President Ryan. We have a small situation on West 46th street. Our domestic terrorism teams went in to capture some criminals plotting against the United States and it seems that someone called the local police. Now your police officers have responded and are presently in a stand off with my people. We have the suspects in custody, however, your police department is interfering with their responsibilities. My agent on the scene, SAC Chalmers, reports that your senior officer on the scene and his personnel have numerous weapons pointed at my people."

"I see. And you found it unnecessary to co-ordinate with our people I assume?"

"There was no time, Mr. Mayor. We received a tip that these criminals would be at that location only a few hours ago. And due to the very sensitive nature of the matter, we found it best to inform as few people as possible, lest these criminals get away yet again."

"And what sort of charges do you expect to be brought against these 'criminals'?"

"Treason among others."

"Very well, I will contact the police commissioner and ask him to call off his men. In the future we ask that you co-ordinate any further actions with our civilian authorities before hand, Mr. Murray."

"Mr. Mayor. This is Jack Ryan. Do you know who I am?"

"Of course. You're the guy who's President now. I wouldn't have voted for you then and I sure as heck won't vote for you now."

"I see. May I ask why you are being so rude to my people?"

"Mr. President. If that's who you really are, there is a protocol for this type of phone call. The Director of the FBI doesn't just pick up a phone and call my office. In fact, I don't really believe you are who you say you are and so I think I will postpone contacting the commissioner until I have some proof. Can't be to careful these days."

"I see. Thank you for your ti...Hello?"

----------------------------------------

"He just hung up on me! I don't believe that guy!"

"You and me both Dan. Arnie? What are my options in this situation?"

"Don't support him on his next election campaign. With your permission, I'm gonna leak a copy of this conversation to a few choice individuals. Like maybe a couple of certain Senators."

"Whatever you think is best Arnie. But back to our problem here. If the Mayor won't lend us his support, then what?"

"Dispatch agents from every federal agency we have in New York City to assist those already on the scene. If that doesn't work, ask for a limited force deployment, in a support role of course."

"Oh of course. Deploy military troops into one of our largest cities. The press will love me for that, Arnie. Make it happen with the civilian agencies first, Arnie."

"Of course, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------
New York City
Site of the Standoff
June 22nd
1955 hours

As had happened shortly before, a multitude of sirens and screeching tires announced the arrival of even more Federal agents. All of them with the express orders to support the agents already on the scene. Above the scene, the three helicopters of the NYPD were joined by two from the FBI, three from the ATF, and two from the Secret Service. All this made matters worse and now arriving on the scene was the police commissioner along with the Mayor. The only orders the police commissioner had for Lieutenant Rodgers were to take everyone into custody. Anyone that resisted would be brought up on charges.

"SAC Chalmers? I have orders to arrest everyone here. Please surrender your weapons and come along peacefully."

"Excuse me? You're going to arrest me? What the hell?!"

The teams that had taken into custody the members of the Consortium were of course watching all these events. It came as a huge surprise to them that they were to be arrested and their captives taken to a temporary holding facility until such time as an investigation could take place into whatever they had been charged with by the government. To the pilots in the support shuttles, the orders they heard to arrest everyone below them came as a shock. Requests for instructions were passed up the line to the SGC who in turn passed them up the line to the President.

In spite of everything going on around them, the members of the Consortium were secretly pleased that the Mayor of New York had remembered them. They had assisted him in his election campaign and now he was repaying that assistance. It paid well to have politicians under their control. But this man who called himself President of the United States, he would have to take great pains to make sure that man knew his place in the days to come. Yes, Spender thought, I shall greatly enjoy teaching John Patrick Ryan a lesson he will not soon forget. And if all is going according to plan, Krycek should now have Ryan's children in his greedy hand.

The order came back fairly quickly. Prevent the local civilian authorities, the NYPD, from interfering with the capture of the Consortium members. On the ground, Intars were raised and aimed at the dozens of police officers. A final request was made by Agent Mulder.

"Lieutenant Rodgers, my superiors have ordered me to stop this stand off. If you do not put your weapons down, we will be forced to open fire."

"You have your orders Agent Mulder, and I have mine. If you fire on us, we will defend ourselves."

Behind them, more vehicles were now pulling up. Media vehicles. The situation had gone from private disaster to public fiasco. A media feeding frenzy was not anyone's desire. Cameras were setup and the news feed went out live to the world, interrupting scheduled programming.

Another shuttle appeared in the skies above the stand off. This one was a new prototype coming directly from the Luna Shipyard. What looked like a gun deployed from the nose portion of the shuttle and a flash of light later, the area around the strike teams was secured via a projected force field. The shuttles landed and took aboard the members of the strike teams and their prisoners, leaving the NYPD unable to do anything to stop them. Any shots they fired at them, simply went nowhere, held in place by the force field. Lieutenant Rodgers could do nothing except stand by and watch as the shuttles lifted and sped off westward.

----------------------------------------
June 23rd
0830 hours
Luna

Marius had already been briefed on the situation of late yesterday and the capture of several of these so called Consortium members. The surprise had come to Director Murray when he had learned the names of the major players in the Consortium. Two assistant directors and one agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, a US Senator, a special assistant to the UN Secretary General, along with the titular head of the Consortium, one C.G.B. Spender, had all been arrested. A seventh person in the name of Alex Krycek was still being sought after an aborted attempt to kidnap members of the President's family.

Dr. Mitch Guerra, Marius' assistant on the force field project, and now head of special projects on Luna had spent nearly a week examining the ship used by the two Consortium members in their attempt to kidnap an Immortal. The crew compartment, he said, was sealed off from the rest of the ship using lead. Apparently the engines used to power the alien-like vessel gave off tremendous amounts of radiation and without the lead screens in place, any pilots would be dead within hours. The fact that they had planned on placing the kidnapped Immortal into a compartment without lead screens said much for the Consortium's regard for life, human or otherwise. Just now on his agenda he had a meeting with Cierdwyn.

"Come in Cierdwyn, come in. Some coffee? Tea?"

"Some tea would be nice, sir."

"Here for my session?" he asked as he poured two cups of tea.

"That's why I'm here Marius. Marcus sends his best, and asks that you retrieve your cell phone from Ms. Halliwell, before your bill becomes most outrageous."

"Oh damn. In all the excitement, I'd forgotten all about her. Why does she have my cell phone?"

"Because you were kidnapped in front of her home. She saw the men bundling you into their van. And she found your cell phone where you had dropped it midway into your conversation with Marcus. Because of that, and because of what she saw, Marcus was able to get the ball rolling much sooner than would have been possible.

"As to your other problem, might I suggest a friendly conversation with Cassandra? And as I understand it, your Piper Halliwell, according to Cassandra, is also a witch?"

"Apparently so. Just when I thought I had a handle on every form of life or un-life on this planet, it goes and throws me a curve ball."

"That's one way of putting it. Take a few days off Marius. It will be good for you. If need be, I'll write it out as a prescription."

"Not necessary. I know better than to go against my Doc."

"You are indeed a wise man, Marius."

"Thanks Doc. Now for something else. You are aware of the upcoming intergalactic conference? Good. I would like you join me there as part of my staff. I am going to need your insights on the minds of the Goa'uld. In fact, I wonder if you would consider working with Agent Mulder to develop a series of papers on why the Goa'uld act the way they do. The Goa'uld and the Tok'ra. When we can understand them better, perhaps we'll be able to work with them?"

"I've read a few of Agent Mulder's monographs. He is a gifted psychologist. I would be happy to work with him."

"Thanks Cierdwyn. And now, I'm afraid I have much work to do. The conference is in little less than a week."
"Of course Mr. President."

"I really wish people would stop calling me that."

"But you are our President, are you not?"

"Yes, but it is not a position I have ever aspired to. Remind sometime to tell you of the scandals and conspiracies of the Roman Senate. Perhaps, someday, I could actually publish my memoirs?"

"Anything is possible in this new era for us, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------
Mars
Chamber of the Council of Twelve
June 23rd
0830 hours

"President Tigh. The Council has made it's decision. Five of us will join you for this intergalactic conference. Have you made your own choices?"

"Yes. I have chosen Apollo, Sheba, Dr. Salik, and Starbuck, to accompany me. With the five you have chosen, we now have our delegation completed. Whom have you chosen?"

"Sire Uri. Sire Boreas. Siress Metis. Siress Hera. We have chosen Architect Ryos to accompany us to Earth as he is the one who will build our new city on this world. He has expressed an interest in the possibility of seeing first hand, the various architectures of Earth."

"Thank you, Sire Nereus. We stand in adjournment until six days from now when we shall gather here prior to proceeding to the hangar bays. I ask that you take into consideration that we will be on Earth up to two of their weeks and that you pack all you deem necessary and essential for this event."

Tigh had been gone only a few moments when Sire Uri recognized Ryos, chief architect for his report.

"Assembled members of the Council. I thank you for allowing me to accompany you to Earth for this Conference. I am most anxious to see a few of the places we have been shown via their primitive audio-visual recordings. I say primitive because in that respect, as in so many others, our Earthly brethren are millennia behind us. It is true that their computron technology is much more advanced than ours, yet with the exception of those in the organization called Stargate Command, Earthers had until very recently used primitive space craft to travel to their only satellite. The Thirteenth tribe settled here many thousands of yahrens ago, yet they are even more primitive than our own colonies were five millennia ago. Why is this? Another thing that has come to my attention is the disparity among the peoples of Earth. Whereas we had twelve colony worlds and one form of government, they have one world, with dozens of forms of government. In some areas of Earth, there is food and land in abundance, in other areas, food is scarce and land is at a premium. Why is this so? I firmly believe that we should do away with the treaty that Apollo and Tigh have wrought for us and move to Earth. This dusty red world that we inhabit; it will be decades before we can walk on the surface without protective clothing. Why must we wait? Members of the Council, if you have the opportunity to discuss these issues with the Earth representatives while we are at this conference, I implore you to do so. Thank you for the time allotted to me."

----------------------------------------
Cheyenne Mountain
Office of Mulder and Scully
June 23rd
0830 hours

It was a strange feeling for Mulder. A decade of his life spent chasing these men and now they were in custody. All the training, all the investigations, all the hopes and dreams; it all led to this one moment. The prisoners had been transferred late the previous evening to a holding facility at Peterson AFB and now, in the accompaniment of two JAG officers and the JAG himself, Mulder and Scully were on their way there to see the prisoners first hand. Though Mulder had been in on the raid the prior night, he had not yet seen the prisoners as they had been brought out of the building with hoods over their heads. A quick glance by him at the prisoners revealed that all had their arms. A certain one armed bastard was missing.

It had been a close thing. President Ryan had no idea how close he had come to losing his children. Krycek had been in the White House, in the living areas, when he had noticed all of the extra security and that certain members of the detail were now carrying very strange looking weapons. Too much security. Too much risk, well, too much extra risk. He scrubbed his mission and left the way he came, via a service tunnel the Consortium had once built when they had access to previous residents of the building. Time to lay low for a few days, then contact Spender. He did not realize just how impossible that task would prove to be.

But for Mulder and Scully, the feeling was one of elation and relief. The evidence against the Consortium was overwhelming, yet each knew that such things could never be said in a court of law. If the truth were to come out, it would topple at least a dozen world governments, including the fragile one that Ryan was attempting to rebuild. No, the world could never know what these men had done. It was a complex quandary of stellar proportions.

A conclusion that had already been reached by Admiral Chegwidden. Even a military court would not be a place to try these people, if one could call them that. The CIA had been forthcoming for once, and details of how the Consortium interacted with a certain civilian agency by name of NID had come to light. The fact that Senator Kinsey was presumed dead as only small DNA fragments had been found only meant that the NID would be on a chopping block very soon, what with no more high level protection for its agents or for the agency.

A conclusion that was in the process of being reached by one President Ryan. The preliminary reports were on his desk. No way could these truths ever come out. Well, not now in any case. Maybe in a couple hundred years. The actions undertaken by these people had global implications. Had their plan come to fruition, it is likely that every living person on Earth would have been killed or enslaved. Their plan, wrought on a global scale, seemed all too similar to the Goa'uld's plan of galactic control. How to try them? Regardless of their guilt or innocence, these men were US citizens, entitled to the rights therein. A trial by their peers?

Such a thing would be a sham trial. The minute the jury heard the evidence, they'd vote to convict. The evidence was that solid. Yet he could not, in good conscience subject any group of twelve honest men and women to such evidence. Human experimentation. Cloning. Abductions. Murders. Treaties with extraterrestrial parties. All in the name of saving their own skins. But what to do about this? Jack was at an impasse. He needed advice.

"Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, stand by for the President of the United States."

Mulder gulped. Yes he had spoken at length with the President on two previous occasions, but the man had never called him directly. Those two prior conversations had been as part of the task force. Mulder sat down and reached for his cup of coffee.

"Agent Mulder. First allow me to congratulate you and your team for bringing these people to justice. I will sleep better tonight knowing that these men and women are behind bars awaiting trial. And that brings me to my next problem."

"Problem, Mr. President?"

The minute he spoke those three words, the others in the room, his partner and the three from JAG, sat a bit more at attention.

"Yes, problem. The evidence that your teams have gathered; it's more than good enough, in my opinion, to put these men and women away for a very long time. But if word of their actions gets out, we'll have a global panic on our hands. The things these people did, it's..., it's... inhuman."

"On that we are in full agreement sir. What they did was and is inhuman and no jury, civilian or military, should ever have to hear the details. In fact, my self and the JAG team had just reached that same conclusion, Mr. President. The question is, what do we do now?"

"A question I am attempting to answer myself, Agent Mulder."

"Mr. President, with your permission, I will talk to a few people here at the SGC. Perhaps they can come up with a solution?"

"Perhaps. Very well then, Fox. Please see that to that."

"Yes, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------

"So the President came to the same conclusion that we did, Agent Mulder?"

"I'm afraid so, Admiral. Now we have the rather unusual order of finding a way to try these bastards for all they've done. And it can never become public. I don't agree with that, but then again, I don't agree that this information should ever be made public. For once, I think the rules of secrecy are a good thing."

"I never thought I'd live to see this day Mulder."

"What day, Scully."

"The day you'd see that classified material exists for a reason. And I agree with you. No one should ever have to hear of what was done to me, among others."

"Ok. Then let us do this. Admiral, if you and your people would head over to Peterson and obtain statements from those 'arrested' last night, that would be helpful. Scully, join them please and help to keep Spender and his cronies somewhat honest?"

"Sure Mulder. But what are you going to do?"

"Talk to Hammond. Maybe talk to some of the Immortals on base. See if they can shed some light on this dilemma."

----------------------------------------
Office of General Hammond
0900 hours

"Come!"

"General, uhm, if you have a few minutes?"

"Come in Agent Mulder. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Uhm, yeah, that would be good. I assume you've read over the reports the task force has prepared?"

"I have. The evidence looks pretty solid to me. Should be easy to get a conviction for all of them."

"Well, therein lies the problem. In all good conscience, none of us want to subject a civilian jury or a military panel to this type of evidence. Bad enough that I have bad dreams most nights. I can't think of any reason why I should subject others to that fate."

"Most military personnel, particularly those in special operations, have the same types of dreams Agent. But I see where you are going with this. What did Admiral Chegwidden have to say about your conclusions?"

"Actually, he agreed. As did President Ryan. So now we are faced with a new dilemma. How to try these men and women in a court of law without telling the entire story. More to the point, what do we do with them once they are convicted. In my opinion, prison life would be too good for them. And we can only execute them once."

"A shame, that. I take it you need an idea?"

"Any idea would be helpful.."

"Well, we can't ask the Immortals to be impartial as these Consortium types did try to take some of their own. And asking the Colonials would not be right as they have enough problems to deal with on their own. I think I may have an idea. But I'm not sure how it will play out."

"I'm all ears, sir."

"One of our off-world allies, the Tollan, have an interesting form of trial called a Triad. It boils down to a prosecutor, a defender, and a neutral third party. I suppose we could ask them for their assistance in this matter. But they don't have the death penalty."

"Death would be too good for them, sir."

"It would. But perhaps permanent exile could be arranged somewhere?"

"A small dark rock would be nice."

"Allow me to make a request of the Tollan, Agent Mulder. I'll get back to you as soon as we have some word from them."

"Sounds right to me, sir."

After agent Mulder left his office, General Hammond placed a call to Luna.

"This is General Hammond at the SGC. I need to speak with President Augustus."

"Of course, sir. One moment."

"Marius."

"Major Ramos. General Hammond here. I have a request that you might be able to fill for us."

"Of course General. How can I be of assistance?"

"You have a construction crew in the asteroid field, correct?"

"That's correct, sir."

"You think you could find a smallish asteroid for us? One that would serve as a prison for seven, possibly ten, prisoners?"

"For the Consortium prisoners, I assume?"

"That is correct. For the remainder of their lives, they'll need to be able to sustain themselves, but they should have no contact whatsoever with the outside."

"I think we can create something to that effect. Give me a few hours to work out the details, sir."

"Right. I'll get back to you at say, 1600?"

"Sounds good, sir."

His next call would be slightly more long distance. To the Tollan home world of Tollana.

"Sergeant, dial up Tollana and get SG-9 on the ramp and ready for a mission."

"Yes sir!"

Maybe five minutes passed before SG-9 appeared in the embarkation room, in full gear, ready to go. They were surprised that General Hammond would be accompanying them. Major Kovacek spoke.

"Sir?"

"I will be joining you for this mission to Tollana, Major. We need a favor from the Tollan."

"Of course sir. After you sir."

It was perhaps the fourth time that General Hammond had been through the gate. It never ceased to amaze him. Though a scientist would swear that once the item passing through the event horizon had dematerialized it could neither see nor experience anything therein, the General would swear he saw a myriad of colors racing by as he entered the gate on Earth and stepped out into the cool evening air of Tollana. Major Kovacek spoke to one of the Tollan guards, and a short time later, Narim appeared.

"General Hammond. Welcome to Tollana. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I must speak with High Chancellor Travell. It is an urgent matter."

"Of course. Please, this way."

"SG-9, stay here."

Narim thought it odd that only a few days before the interplanetary conference that General Hammond himself would come to Tollana. Whatever vexed the man must be indeed important for him to come. And to come without the presence of SG-1 no less! But his questions would be resolved shortly, he hoped.

The walk was not far. The Tollan had rebuilt most of their city in the wake of the attack by Anubis. Had it not been for the Asgard who intervened on their behalf, Hammond felt sure he would not be standing here today. As he mused on this, he and Narim passed into the chambers of the Curia.

"High Chancellor Travell."

"General Hammond. I had not expected to see you before the Conference next week. Is there a problem?"

"I need some advice. You have helped us a time or two before, particularly with Klorel/Skaara, and well, I need advice. It is a legal matter."

"Of course! How may I assist you?"

"You recall mentions of a group called NID in the past yes? The ones responsible for stealing technology from you and the Asgard, among others?"

"Yes, I do recall those incidents. Is the NID stealing again?"

"No. Recently information about another group of humans on our world came to light. They call themselves 'Immortals' and that is exactly what they are."

"Immortal? As in they live longer lives than you?"

"Immortal as in the oldest among them is approximately ten thousand Earth years old. Earth signed an agreement with the Immortals to keep them safe from experimentation. A group of Earth men, however, did not honor that agreement. To make a long story short, these are the same men responsible for the creation of the NID. We have captured them, but find ourselves in a complex situation. If word of their atrocities were to become public knowledge, there would be riots and widespread chaos. The very people that we, the military, are sworn to protect would rise up against us. The crimes these men and women committed, they turn even my stomach, ma'am, and I know that if we were to try them in any court on Earth, there would be no way to keep such proceedings a secret."

"What crimes will they be charged with?"

"The list is long and varied, but it boils down to abduction, genetic experimentation, and murder."

"I see. You realize, General Hammond, that if they were to be tried on Tollana, that there could be no possibility of a sentence of death."

"I realize that. We are prepared to exile them, permanently. But we will not take the chance that they will escape, so we are preparing a prison asteroid for them to live out their lives."

"I see. In the interest of friendship and with the hopes of building a long lasting relationship with Earth, I offer the option of Triad to you, General Hammond. Have you someone in mind for the role of Archon?"

"There are two matters here. One is that these criminals acted with malice aforethought in regards to the Immortals. Another is that they have committed numerous crimes against humanity."

"So there must be two Triads."

"Possibly, though we do hope to have only one. For the Triad involving Immortals, I would think the leader of the Immortals would act as archon on behalf of his people. For the Triad involving Earth in general, I will ask our highest ranking military attorney to become archon on behalf of the peoples of Earth. The other seeker will undoubtedly have their own archon, though I would ask someone from Tollan be present to assist their archon in matters of procedure."

"Agreed. What about the neutral archon?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps you can suggest someone?"

"I think we can find someone objective enough for you. It is agreed General Hammond. Tollana will host these two Triads for you."

"I thank you High Chancellor Travell. I look forward to seeing you at the Conference in a week's time."

----------------------------------------
Office of General Hammond
1645 hours

"Come!"

"General, did you get a chance to speak with the Tollan?"

"I did, agent Mulder. They have agreed to host the Triad. Two Triads to be specific. One with the Immortals and the Consortium, another with Earth and the Consortium. I am fairly certain of the outcome, and have asked President Augustus to design a prison asteroid."

"That is excellent news, sir!"

"It is indeed. Now we only have to inform the prisoners of the location for trial. High Chancellor Travell of the Tollan has given to us two copies of their procedures for the triad. One will stay here, where the JAG team can review it. Another will be given to whatever attorney the prisoners choose. I am allowing one copy to be made which will be forwarded to Luna, so their representative can acquaint himself with the procedures."

"Sounds good. You want me to take the manual down to Admiral Chegwidden and his team?"

"Yes, thank you."

----------------------------------------
June 25th
San Francisco

The intergalactic conference was scheduled to start in less than a week's time, but Marius and Cassandra were in a shuttle flying down to San Francisco. The shuttle pilot had explicit orders from the Immortal Council not to land anywhere longer than necessary to load or unload passengers. He was to remain aloft at all times and he was to maintain a lock on the President at all times. The shuttle came down fast, and hovered for a few minutes in the street in front of the Halliwell home. Marius and Cassandra jumped down the final foot to the ground before the door irised closed behind them and the shuttle shot straight up into the sky only to go into a hover about fifty meters off the ground. Then it cloaked.

They walked up to the door and Marius knocked. But someone altogether unexpected answered the door.

"Hello?"

"Uhm, is Piper available?"

"Who's asking?"

"Marius."

"Let me go and get her. Wait right there."

"Piper?"

"Leo?"

"There's a man at your door asking for you. Marius?"

"Oh! I didn't think he'd come back so soon!"

"Who's Marius? And more to the point, why is there the most powerful witch I've ever felt standing next to him?"

"Witch? Oh, he must have brought Cassandra with him. Did you let them in?"

"No. They're waiting at the door."

"Heya Piper! You remember Cassandra, don't you?"

"A pleasure to meet you again, Piper."

"Likewise, Cassandra."

"Before I forget, I'm told you have my cell phone?"

"Yeah. Everything turn out ok, Marius?"

"As well as can be expected. Though I can safely say, death by Ebola is not at all a pleasant experience."

"Uhm, Ebola? As in the virus from Africa?"

"That would be the one. Those folks that took me, well, they wanted to see what made me tick, so among other things, I got shot up with a massive dose of Ebola. It's something I'd rather not dwell on."

"I understand."

"So who was the gentleman that answered the door?"

"Oh. That's Leo. My husband."

"Husband? I don't recall you mentioning a husband before?"

"We were separated when you and I met."

"Ah. And now?"

"We trying to work things out."

"Ah. Ok. Well, never let it be said that I would be the cause of a divorce. So, friends?"

"Friendship is good."

Phoebe, Paige, and Leo came in at that moment, and after a round of introductions, the three Halliwell sisters began to pick Cassandra's brain for information while Leo and Marius began a conversation, albeit a rather uncomfortable one at first. At least, until Marius made mention of the Ancients.

"The Ancients? What do you know of the Ancients? Are we talking about the founders of Atlantis?"

"One and the same, Leo. They were here before, shall we say, the current generation of mankind."

"But they died out?"

"No. They didn't die. They evolved."

"Evolved?"

"They transcended the need for corporeal bodies. But they wanted children. Immortals are the result of that need for off-spring."

"So you are the off-spring of an Ancient?"

"That's essentially correct. In the fullness of time, I am told, my kind will evolve as well, and take our place among the Ancients. They created us to be Guardians for Earth and her mortal children. We haven't always been the best of Guardians, but we are trying to correct our errors and lead Earth's children along a better path now."

"No offense, but you don't feel any different from a mortal."

Marius looked at him strangely for only a second, before unleashing the full power of his Quickening. He had kept it toned down, per Cassandra's request, that the full power of their Quickening's would interfere with the sisters' abilities to sense danger. Leo fell to his knees shouting in pain, and grasping his head as the full strength of Marius' Quickening rolled over him. Just as quickly as the sensation began, it stopped as Marius tampered down his signature.

"I stand corrected. You are an old one."

"Not so old as that. A mere twenty-six hundred."

Their conversations continued well into the night and when both Marius and Cassandra left, it was with a new understanding of the three sisters and what they meant to the world.

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July 3rd
Las Vegas

Attendees for the conference slated to kick-off the next day had begun arriving early on the 3rd at the SGC and via ship in orbit. Many of the guests would be housed at the Luxor, the MGM Grand, and at Mandalay Bay, all within a short walk of one another. All of the hotels lay within a twelve block area that had been cordoned off with military police at various check points and force fields securing the entire area. Over head, fighters from numerous airbases in the area would be patrolling round the clock. They were supplemented with F-302 fighters stationed at Peterson AFB and aboard the two existing Battlecruisers, the Prometheus and the Daedalus. Three more Battlecruisers were expected out of the Luna shipyards the next day, along with the first of five Immortal class fleet support ships.

There were already a few dozen ships in orbit. Ships from empires that wished to show off their advanced technology to these primitive Tau'ri. Indeed their first contact with the Tau'ri had come via Stargate sometime in the previous seven years, as had subsequent contacts come via the same means. A Tollan vessel pulled into a parking orbit between an Asgard cruiser and a Goa'uld Ha'tak. High Chancellor Travell, and four other members of the Tollan Curia were aboard that ship and were looking out the main view port when they came into the system. Travell and the Curia had rather fixed assumptions of Tau'ri technology. They were surprised to find out that the Tau'ri had constructed two space going vessels. Vessels made for war primarily and exploration in a secondary role. But they were more surprised to see the two Battlestars in Tau'ri space, one in orbit around the fourth planet, the other around the third. Their scanners showed another vessel, immensely huge, in the nearby asteroid field, and four more that their scans indicated were under construction.

The Goa'uld had already ringed down to the conference site. Marius had asked Nefertiri to act as a liaison to the Goa'uld. She was dressed in much the same way she had dressed when she had been hand maiden to Cleopatra. The fact that she was dressed correctly had startled the Goa'uld representatives. The fact that she spoke in what had been court Egyptian or Goa'uld, was a welcome one.

"Greetings. On behalf of the Tau'ri and of the Immortal Council, I bid you welcome to Earth. I am Nefertiri. I have been assigned as your liaison while on Earth. Should there be anything you need, you have but to ask."

"Tal ma'te. You are hok'tar? Even I, can sense the aura of your ancient power."

"Tal ma'te. Tal mal tiak. I am not hok'tar. I am of a race called Immortals. Do not look at me with envious eyes for my kind can not be hosts. The power of our aura would kill even the strongest of Goa'uld. We have been on Earth for tens of thousands of years. There are those of us who were there when Ra was here. We fight beside the Tau'ri in their quest."

"I see. I am the Jade Emperor, the Exalted Lord Yu Huang Shang-Ti. I am the oldest of the System Lords and leader of the System Lords Council. "

"I am Osiris."

"I am Ba'al."

"I am Bastet."

"I am Kali."

"And these are you lo'taurs? Good. If you will come with me, we will get you situated in your rooms. I must apologize up front, however. The rooms that have been provided for you are amongst the most opulent that the Tau'ri can offer, however, they may not be up to your standards. Rest assured, all that can be done to ensure your safety and comfort has been done. None of the delegates will be allowed any weapons. The Tau'ri that you see with weapons are honor guards, to ensure the safety of all of the delegates. Tomorrow evening, when all have arrived, there will be an opening celebration that coincides with a celebration of independence in this host country."

"Independence? From what?"

"Some two hundred years ago, this country that plays host to us was founded as a colony of another country. In time, the colonies rebelled against their parent and formed their own nation-state. They celebrate this day on which they declared their independence and their desire for self-rule. Goddess Kali, this celebration has meanings that even the average Tau'ri has forgotten. But those of us who were there, who fought for Independence alongside the Tau'ri, have not forgotten the sacrifices made. There will be speeches and food for all."

"Very well."

----------------------------------------

At the SGC, delegates were arriving via the Stargate. Just as quickly as they arrived, they were swept through Medical for a baseline check and then taken to the surface where a number of shuttles were standing by for the short hop to the landing facility in Las Vegas. It had been decided that an Immortal would act as liaison to various representatives from the more advanced cultures. Just as Nefertiri was liaising with the Goa'uld, so was Marcus Constantine liaising with the Tollan, Grace Chandler with the Nox, Kassim with the Furlings, and Mako with the Asgard.

The delegation from the Ancients was already on Earth, in the form of Methos as son of Tok'Ra, Tok'Ra himself, and Colonel Jack O'Neill, whom after his contact with Tok'Ra, had been transformed into an Ancient.

Shortly after Thor and five others from the Asgard High Council arrived, Thor was taken aside and introduced to Fox Mulder. Before Mulder could even ask a single question, Thor spoke.

"Fox Mulder. You are a legend amongst the Asgard. We have been observing your race for thousands of your years. In that time, there have always been certain individuals whom we could contact if we were to find ourselves stranded on your world. You were identified as one such individual."

"I was? Why?"

"Our rule is one of non-interference with the younger races. Yet many tens of thousands of years ago, our race was of two minds. After a series of very bloody civil wars, the more antagonistic of our kind were banished. Exiled from Asgard space. Though we wish no contact with our long exiled brethren, we do keep tabs, as it were, on them. We have known of their attempts to influence the course of human history. When information regarding your fight against them was intercepted, we identified you as a safe point of contact."

"My sister?"

"As I have stated, there were others of our kind who were more antagonistic. Their stated goal to create stronger races through strife, then to hybridize those stronger races in their own image. If their attempts at hybridization failed, then they would release the pathogen you know as the black cancer in order to create more soldiers for their cause. Once we made contact with the Tau'ri, particularly with O'Neill, we realized that we must attempt to stop them from completing their experiments on your world. To this end, we have prevented their ships from landing here. Now that Earth is a party to the Protected Planets Treaty, they can no longer interfere with your natural growth."

"But there were men and women here working with them!?"

"Yes. That is true in many cases. However, they will no longer trouble you. With this scanning device, you will be able to locate any of their technology on your world. Once you have eliminated their influence, the group of men and women whom they were in league with, will fall apart."

"What about my sister?"

"I regret that we were unable to stop them earlier from taking many humans for experimentation. If she still lives, though this is doubtful, she may be on one of their colony worlds. They number approximately one dozen. We would be happy to act on your behalf to attempt to locate her and return her to you."

"If she lives?"

"She may have died during their experiments."

"I have seen clones of her."

"If clones were created, then it is possible that the original body is alive. However, she may not be cognizant of her surroundings."

"I see. Well, this scanner will certainly help. But I want to go with you to find her."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible. We will inform you of the particulars of our search."

----------------------------------------
Las Vegas
July 4th
Convention Center
2000 hours

In all his life, Marius had never seen so many powerful people in one room. Representatives from the Ancient Alliance sat at one table together. The Goa'uld at another table. Lesser delegations at various tables interspersed with Tau'ri liaisons. There were rumors he'd heard from a well placed source inside the UN of a pending meeting there to declare the formation of a Sol Confederation, with the Tau'ri, the Immortals, and the Colonials as the first members. The rumors went on with one small fact; the UN wanted control of the technology of both the Colonials and the Immortals. Another stupid power play by his brethren.

But just today, he'd received word from Mitch in the asteroid field. The first two of five planned Immortal-class ships had been completed. When he had first moved to Luna, he gotten together with his staff and had designed this new class of ship. The Immortal class. Three miles long, two miles wide, and a full mile in height. Using the technology given to their trust by Tok'Ra, the ships had been designed to create their own wormhole in space. Using the CombatGates that Tok'Ra had built so many thousands of years ago as beacons, the ship would create a wormhole using one of those beacons as an end point and would emerge in space near that gate. There was no way that a ship as large as an Immortal-class could transit through one of the CombatGates.

It was designed to provide support to the fleet that the Tau'ri and the Colonials were presently building. Machine shops and entertainment venues, manufacturing plants and refineries, vast hydroponic gardens and a full hospital with room for two thousand patients at a time. There were to be aid stations scattered along the periphery of the ship, located near airlocks and transport ring stations, to provide stabilization aid to the severely wounded before moving them to the infirmary. They had taken a lesson from the Colonials in the design of the hangar bays. Along the mid point of the ship, and projecting fore and aft were a series of linked hangars and launch catapults. With a crew of two thousand to keep the ship in space, a flight crew of a thousand to defend the ship, and ground assault troops numbering five thousand, the Immortal class was more than just a support ship.

Thousands of pulse laser turrets and rail gun turrets would protect the ship. At the fore end and under where the bridge lay were two dozen heavy cannons, both pulsar and rail gun. If one were to look at the ship, one might believe it to be a Colonial Battlestar writ very large. But the resemblance was only 'skin deep'. Whereas the Colonials had two hangar bays in projections or 'outriggers' off the main body, the Immortal class used those two 'outriggers' to land the ground assault troops. Each pod could detach from the ship and then be used to enter the atmosphere of a planet. Each pod would become the command center for twenty-five hundred assault troopers. Within the pods, were hundreds of ground assault vehicles, each of them equipped with the Ramos force shield.

Given a full load of raw materials in the numerous cargo bays of the ship, the manufacturing centers could build all of the fighters needed to replace the full compliments of five Battlestars and five Battlecruisers at one time. There were additional cargo areas that carried only the materials necessary to build the weapons said fighters would utilize.

All in all, what had started out its life as an underway replenishment ship had become something much more. The Colonials and the Tau'ri would build their Battlestars and their Battlecruisers, but they would become escorts for these Immortal ships. As Marius took to the podium in the Convention Center, the first of the Immortal class carriers was moving into geo-synchronous orbit over Las Vegas.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Distinguished guests. On behalf of the Tau'ri, the Immortal Council, and the Colonial Council of Twelve, allow me to welcome you to Earth and the opening ceremonies of this Intergalactic Conference. A few of you may have noticed the colorful displays around the area. There is a reason for that. It was on this day, two hundred and twenty seven Earth years ago in our host country, that a number of brave men declared their independence and formed on this continent a new nation. A nation dedicated to the ideals of freedom and liberty for all. Ideals that are evident even today.

"Today, I am known as Marius Augustus, President of the Immortal Council. But two hundred and twenty-seven years ago, I was Marcus Brown, a soldier in the American Revolutionary Army. I can not lay claim to a large part in the war that gained this nation's independence, but I can claim to have been there. From the battle fields in the Carolinas, to the siege of Washington, to the victory at Bunker Hill, I marched and fought alongside the Tau'ri because I believed in the same ideals as they.

"In the intervening years, I have served my adopted country when she needed me most. I was there to celebrate the first manned mechanical flight at Kitty Hawk in 1903. I was listening to the radio when the announcement came that Charles Lindberg had completed his historic flight across the Atlantic and landed in Paris in May of 1927 after a thirty-three and a half hour flight. Some years later, I sat glued to a small black and white screen when the first American Tau'ri walked on their only satellite, Luna, in July of 1969."

While Marius was speaking a series of giant screens behind him and above him were showing scenes from his speech. Epic battle scenes of the Revolutionary War, the first flight at Kitty Hawk, Lindberg's landing at Orly Airport in Paris, and the Lunar landing and first steps by Neil Armstrong. Music played in the background ranging from symphonic masterpieces by Copland to modern composers like John Williams. On the overhead screens, guests were treated to a light show in the form of fireworks. The images and music and fireworks were being transmitted across the United States this evening.

"There were hard times and there were good times. Lean times, and plentiful times. My adopted country, the United States of America, has long stood for equality and justice. When the First World War broke out in Europe, I was there, fighting alongside hundreds of other pilots in the first large scale air war the planet had ever seen. I have been on this world for over twenty-six hundred years, but it has been the last hundred years or so that have been the most exciting. It is said that wars breed new science and technologies. Could the Wright brothers, builders of the first airplane, have envisioned how far we would take their creation? I like to think so.

"In one form or another, I have been in one army or another since my time as a General in Rome. But I would never have imagined, all those centuries ago, that I would one day be a fighter pilot. I flew fighters in both world wars, bi-planes in the First World War, and first Spitfires and later Mustangs in the Second World War. I was among the few pilots of piston powered aircraft in the Second War to shoot down a German jet fighter. Only a few years later I was again flying planes, this time jets, in the Korean Conflict. No matter what anyone tells you about that bloody little skirmish, it was a war, declared or otherwise. Thought I tried to fly for the US in Vietnam, my talents were called upon to build better systems for the military, so I sat that one out.

"It seems strange, now, to be telling all of this. Only a few months ago, the world in general was ignorant of the existence of Immortals and of our contributions to history. It is perhaps our best testament to history, that we as Immortals, have not made such brilliant contributions as have our mortal brethren. But we have seen history as it occurred. It is said often enough, that history is recorded by the victors. That may be true, but it is Immortals, with our long view of things, that know the real events that took place.

"Today, we celebrate another year of freedom. We mourn the passing of so many at the Twin Towers and at the Pentagon and in a rural field in Pennsylvania. Freedom is oft taken for granted, and it is often our intertwined fates that remind us of the price of our freedom, and that is eternal vigilance. Today we come together, in the spirit of cooperation and friendship, to forge a new beginning for our universe. I look out amongst you and see the four races that made up the Alliance of Ancients. An alliance that strove to create a peace in the universe so that the younger races could benefit from that worry free environment. But in your attempts to restrain the younger races, you've created a serious problem. You call us young, or primitive, and believe that we still have much to learn. The most old and wise of the Alliance were the Ancients themselves; the creators of the Stargate system that so many of us utilize today. Many of you believe that the Ancients have left this plane of existence and have moved on to a higher state of being. Many of you would be both correct and incorrect.

"The majority of the Ancients have left this corporeal plane. Yet a few remained behind. They created one more tool before they moved on. They created us; they created Immortals. Our numbers are few and for thousands of years we hunted one another in the quest for a prize. A fool's quest. Those of us alive today, may yet live another hundred thousand years and may eventually evolve to become Ancients ourselves. Yet we can wield their powers. We have their technology. We have a longer view of history. Yet we are still young.

"By comparison to our creators, we are but babes in arms. The eldest of our kind is more than ten thousand years of age. The youngest, a mere twenty-five years of age. I am only twenty-six hundred. Yet we can all trace our lineage to one Ancient; Tok'Ra. He who gave us life is he whom we honor with the taking up of arms against his ancient enemy; the Goa'uld Hegemony. And a few weeks ago, we were content to carry on that fight. Now we come to an interesting dilemma.

"Our 'father's' ancient enemy have come to us for assistance. The Goa'uld Anubis has formed an alliance with a race of cybernetic creatures that call themselves Cylons. Their stated goal? To wipe out all humanoid life in the universe. An ambitious plan, to say the least. And one at which they have every intention of success. This new enemy; the Cylons; they show no fear, they show no mercy. They are unlike any creature I have ever had the displeasure to fight, though admittedly, I have only fought other Tau'ri, other Immortals, and perhaps a few Goa'uld.

"There are races represented in this room tonight that do not wish to share their technologies. Fine. This is not a conference about sharing technology. It is a conference about sharing resources so that we may fight this new enemy. I won't ask the Tollan to share information about their ion cannons and I won't ask the Goa'uld to share information about their physiology, just as I wouldn't ask the Nox to share information about their cloaking technology. No, what we wish to discuss here tonight and over the course of the next two weeks, is how we go about sharing our military might to defeat the Cylons and Anubis.

"We must come up with a plan to integrate our military forces into one command structure. If, for instance, a Tau'ri is the commander of a fleet, then would the Goa'uld and Jaffa assigned to that fleet take orders from a Tau'ri? That is something we must work out, for right now the answer to that question is negative. But this is a discussion for the conference tomorrow.

"In the skies above us, the first ship of the Immortal fleet is taking up station keeping over the conference site. It will remain there, along with our other vessels and fighters to prevent any attack on this most auspicious conference. Please, enjoy your meals, and enjoy the evening's festivities. Good night."

The assembled dignitaries, some with staff, some not, looked skyward and saw on numerous screens a very large ship enter Earth orbit. At one of the tables, Jack O'Neill looked on with something akin to smug satisfaction as he saw the faces of the Tollan, the Goa'uld, and the Tok'ra break out in amazement at the sight. The ship was huge. It dwarfed the nearby Colonial Battlestar and made it the few Goa'uld Ha'taks in orbit look like bathtub toys in comparison. Things were definitely looking better.

"Sorry to disturb your dinners again, but I've just been reminded that I left something out of my speech. While the Representatives are meeting tomorrow and over the course of the next several days, there will be tours available for any interested parties. Informational packets on the tours available will be delivered to each of your rooms while we are here. Enjoy!"

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July 5th
1000 hours
Convention Center

The maintenance staff of the convention center should be commended, thought Marius. In the span of eight hours, they had cleaned up the floor of the main hall of all the trash left from the dinner last evening. They had laid down carpet and arranged a series of tables and chairs in a semi-circular fashion and placed them on ever increasing tiers. The central podium sat in the center of the circle, down on the ground level. He had come in about an hour ago to check over the presentation equipment and his presentation materials. He was scheduled as the sixth speaker of the morning. Because the Asgard had called this meeting in the first place, their representative, Thor, would be the titular chairman of the conference.

Jack O'Neill and Adam Pierson filed into the convention center. They had been up late the night before, after the dinner festivities had ended, at the tables in their casino. Adam, as the oldest inhabitant of the planet, had been selected by the UN Security Council as the representative for Earth. Jack O'Neill, as a newly emerged Ancient, had been selected by Tok'Ra to speak on his behalf, though they both knew that Tok'Ra would probably be hovering out of sight at the meeting.

"The Chair recognizes Lord Ba'al, of the Goa'uld System Lords."

"Commander Thor. Distinguished guests. For thousands of years the Goa'uld have ruled over an empire that spans hundreds of thousands of worlds. Our Ruling Council has been in place at least that long. We police our own kind. A thousand years ago we exiled Anubis for committing acts of atrocities that pale even against our own. Yes. Our own. We know full well that we are reviled for our actions and deeds. But even amongst our kind, Anubis was far worse than any of us. And so we exiled him. And for a thousand years, we knew nothing of him. Now he has returned. He has been building his forces for a number of centuries. The Council hoped that we could handle this matter internally. We did not expect him to ally himself with these Cylons. Osiris and I brought to Lord Yu, news of this alliance, and of the new atrocities committed in the name of the Cylon Empire. It is true that we possess slaves. That we use them as warriors, as laborers, and as scholars. But these Cylons, they have no regard for humanoid life. There only goal is to exterminate all life that is not their own.

"And so, the Ruling Council formed a fleet, the likes of which had not been seen in a thousand years. And we took that fleet to do battle with Anubis and his new allies. We regret to say that almost the entire fleet was destroyed. The Council has come to the conclusion that this is a battle we can not fight on our own. Though it angers us greatly, we must ask for help to defeat these Cylons. Alone, we can not do this. Perhaps together, we can."

"The Chair recognizes Travell, representative of the Tollan."

"On behalf of the people of Tollana, I bid you all greetings. To be quite honest, when we were contacted by the Asgard with news of this conference, we did not know what to expect. The Tau'ri are our allies. We enjoy diplomatic and trade relations with them. It is our policy, and has been for centuries, not to share our technology with less advanced races, out of fear of what those races might accomplish with that technology. But, after seeing the video evidence of the fight between the System Lord fleet and Anubis and the Cylons, we have come to the conclusion that this fight, is our fight. As you have stated, the Cylons view all humanoid life as less than they are. You have told us that they wish to annihilate all human life in the galaxy. As we are of the same root species, we pledge our resources to this fight. We will not share our technology, but we will share the few fleet vessels we have available for this battle."

"The Chair recognizes Methos, representative of Earth."

"Greetings to all. A few weeks ago, shortly after Commander Thor requested this meeting, I was summoned to the United Nations building in New York. On Earth, the United Nations is a quasi governing body where all nations can air their disputes in open forum. It doesn't always work, but we are trying to make it work. As I was saying, I was called before them. They were debating who would be appointed as representative for Earth. Ambassador Richards, of the United States, suggested that I, as the eldest inhabitant of Earth should speak for the Tau'ri. And so here I am.

"We of Earth, recognize the threat posed by Anubis and by the Cylon Empire. We of Earth, pledge our full support to this battle, to defeat the Cylons and to defeat Anubis. We have new agreements now in place with numerous governments of our world to share the burden of the Stargate program, and to share in the technological resources obtained thereof. I thank you for your time.

"The Chair recognizes Marius, Representative of the Immortal Council."

"Greetings to all. I wish to say first that the Immortal Council pledges its full support to this endeavor. Secondly, I have reviewed in detail the video provided by the Asgard regarding the recent battle between Anubis and the Cylons and the Goa'uld forces. There are lessons to be learned. Let's look at them briefly. If you will turn to the video screens on your desks, you will see the data stream taken by the Asgard probe. The first thing I noticed was that the Al'kesh bombers fired first. I wondered about that. So I consulted with a representative of the Colonial Council, and was told, to my amazement, that the Cylon fighters are equipped with short range weaponry only. But this fact escaped those on the command Ha'taks. The Al'kesh fired first and their opening shots went unanswered by the Cylons. As they closed the distance to firing range, the Cylons finally opened fire, decimating the lines of Udajeet fighters. The Al'kesh, rather than staying in the fight as they should have, blew on through the front lines and tried to engage the Cylon Basestars. That proved a costly mistake.

"The weaponry on the Basestar is formidable, designed more for ship to ship fighting than for defense against enemy fighters. Their high power pulsars made short work of the Al'kesh bombers. And the Cylon fighters made short work of the Udajeets. Then when the big ships started firing, you pulled back your more heavily armed vessels and let the lesser pyramid ships meet the enemy. It is my understanding that the System Lords were aboard those more heavily armed Ha'taks and Shral'kas, and so the reason for their remaining at the rear is clear to me at least. But by not utilizing the weapons at hand, they lost the battle. There are lessons to be learned here, lessons that we should take to heart if we are to defeat our mutual enemy. That is all I have to say at this time."

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July 5th
Peterson AFB
Court Martial

It was the first trial, that of a Marine Corps Lieutenant and Major charged with attempted kidnapping of an Immortal. The charges had been read, as per procedure. Yet instead of a regular court martial, the two officers in question had elected for a summary judgment from the JAG. Because of that special circumstance, it would be difficult at best to sentence the two men to any sort of long jail term, primarily due to the national security issues. But the JAG, Admiral AJ Chegwidden had been briefed in on a new 'jail' for the two officers in question.

"Gentlemen, you stand charged with attempted kidnapping of an Immortal citizen. You have both opted for a summary court martial and as such my hands are tied as to the possible punishment. Had this been a standard Article 32 session, odds are you would have been found guilty and sentenced to a period of confinement of no less that ten years. At which time you would have been dishonorably discharged and stripped of all rank and benefits.

"Major Bradley, for the charge of attempted kidnapping of a citizen of Luna, you are hereby reduced one grade in rank to Captain. Second Lieutenant Foster, for the charge of attempted kidnapping of a citizen of Luna, you are hereby reduced one grade in rank to Sergeant. On the charge of conspiracy to kidnap an Immortal, you are both reduced two grades in rank, to Second Lieutenant and to Private, respectively. You are both ordered to report to the military prison barracks at Peterson AFB where you will serve a term of no less than one month and no more than three months, without pay. Thereafter, you will both be reassigned to the deep space radar outpost currently under construction in the orbit of Pluto. This hearing is closed."

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July 6th
Conference

Tok'Ra had been watching the proceedings though his presence amongst the delegates was not known. He felt a presence near him and sought it out. It was John. And he was not alone.

"John."

"Tok'Ra. I bring a matter to you that is of the utmost importance. A few days ago, Earth time, we were contacted by four separate entities, none of which exist on this plane of continuity. They have requests to make."

"I see. What sort of requests?"

"You are Tok'Ra, of the Ancients?"

"I am. And you are?"

"I am Q. My race is the Q. We exist in a parallel dimension and where we exist we are the most advanced form of life known."

"A bold statement, Q. What do you seek of me?"

"Tens of thousands of years ago, your race created a device that allowed you to traverse the barriers between dimensions. I met one of your kind at that time. I saw much potential at that time. Now that I have again met your kind, I see that the Q could learn much from you. But that is another matter. In my own universe there are numerous humanoid species. One in particular is most troublesome. They call themselves the Borg. They have some misguided idea that they can achieve perfection and they do this by assimilating other species into their gestalt. They most recently came across the outpost world your kind left in my universe. The Q were not aware of the existence of this outpost world."

"There was only one outpost world in your universe. When we experimented with that technology, we set up a number of outpost worlds, to monitor the growth of other civilizations. We had in mind contact with those races when the time was right, but we evolved and such matters were left unfinished."

"Yes well, these Borg came across your outpost world and assimilated the technology therein. Thankfully, they did not obtain the secret of cross dimensional travel, but they did learn about worm hole theory. Now they are using that theory to assimilate thousands of races at a time. This would not greatly concern the Q as they are no match for us. But we are few. Truth be told, I have taken a liking to some of the lesser races and frankly I do not wish to see them assimilated."

"These lesser races you speak of, who are they?"

"They are the counterparts to this Earth in this dimension. In many ways, the humans of the Federation are more advanced than your humans here. They try peaceful methods of contact first and only resort to warfare when there is no other option. They have strange ideas regarding contact and sharing of technology with less advanced races than they. But it has worked for them. These Borg, unfortunately, will assimilate them because they can not defeat them. The Federation technology is no match for the Borg. Truth be told, the Goa'uld technology is no match for Federation technology either. But, Federation technology is more than a match for Cylon technology."

"I see the beginnings of a deal here, Q. But let me first listen to these other three."

"I am Kosh."

"Kosh. Ok. What do you want?"

"Never ask that question!"

"If I do not ask that question, then how am I to know what you seek from me?"

"That is a fair statement. Our race was young when first we met. The Ancient. A First One. We sought guidance from you. You left; passed beyond the rim. We sought your home world and found much technology. Our brothers, those whom others call Shadows, stole much of this technology. Their belief is chaos. Survival of the fittest. Our belief is Order. Obedience to our rule. A thousand years ago, we fought them, and drove them back to their home world. Now they have returned. Without the First One, our protected races will not survive."

"I see. Well, you're next. Who are you?"

"I am called, the Keeper. Our race keeps the flow of time moving along. I have surmised that all of us here, watch over a group of humans whose home world is Earth. The Earth in my dimension is at war. There is one soldier in this war that is critical to the flow of time. We have interfered in the growth of this soldier, prevented the soldier from dying, but each time we do so, the time line changes. As a Keeper of Time, I know that this soldier will be the one to save their Earth. However we can no longer interfere. The instability in the time matrix of which my Earth is located has become to great. We can risk one, perhaps two more incursions before the time line will cease and revert to the original, in which case several billion human lives will be lost and our race will cease to exist. For though we are considerably more advanced than they, and for they do not know of our existence, they are our antecedents. Without them, we will never be."

"My problem is similar to that of the Keeper. Greetings. I am Amanda. I am also a Q. Unlike the Keeper, however, I have seven human lives that depend on me. I have tried to help them. They are presently stuck, by my design, in a temporal loop, unaware. The outcome has been the same, time after time. The death of one, the loss of two more, and the psychological damage of the remaining four. All are necessary to the survival of their Earth."

"I see. And what is it you four require from me?"

"They require from you, dear Tok'Ra, some of your children."

"And what do I get in return?"

"When the time comes, they will return the favor."

"Very well. We are in agreement. I will choose the leader of the expedition. Then the leader will choose who will go. A month. Then the journeys betwixt dimensions shall commence."

"Then it is agreed."

The others left Tok'Ra. He was deep in thought. As much as he loved his children, his Immortal creations, he would have to choose one to sacrifice. With all the potential problems involved in cross dimensional travel, the choice was easily reached, though not easily accepted. It would have to be Marius. But should he tell him or not? That was the most difficult of questions. And should he decide to tell Marius, when would be the best time to do so? He was, after all, in the midst of a conference, and there were dozens of problems already on his plate. Tok'Ra resolved to think on this matter further, and perhaps to consult with his son on this matter.

Marius was unaware of this new development. The conference had adjourned for a lunch break and would resume opening statements at 1400 hours that afternoon. Just now, he was in his room at the Luxor, speaking with Mitch Guerra, his head of research and development.

"What news do you have for me Mitch?"

"All good news I'm afraid."

"That's usually the best kind of news, Mitch."

"Most definitely, Mr. President."

"Stop that. Every time someone calls me that, I'm looking over my shoulder for President Ryan."

"Uhm, ok. On to the good stuff. As you are well aware, the first Immortal has cleared space dock. She will be ready for space trials inside of a month. She's your design, so we'll leave the naming to you. Your designs called for the ability to launch eighteen fighters at any given moment. We've increased that to ninety fighters. Each hangar bay can launch eighteen fighters at the same time. There are five primary hangar bays and an even dozen support bays for shuttles and the larger gunships we've created. One of my teams took the basic design of an Al'kesh and improved it radically. It now looks like a rather flattened version of the original Al'kesh. Actually, it looks something like a cross between a flat Al'kesh, and an elongated X-302. It has four internal rotary launchers for every missile in the current US inventory. Four additional external hardpoints for a variety of weapons including rotary launchers for anti-ship missiles. These external points can also be reconfigured for Search and Rescue missions in that they will mate up to a disabled ship. In the SAR configuration, all but one of the internal launch bays are removed, and a maximum of two fighters can be retrieved. There is a single gun turret under the nose of the craft, and a pair of turrets at the rear of the craft, one mounted above the engines, one below. This gunship carries a crew of six; two pilots, three gunners, and a weapons specialist or bombardier.

"We added eight docking stations to the exterior of the vessel. The Prometheus class Battlecruisers can dock at those stations to perform underway replenishment, transfer wounded, or just hitch a ride. In the event of engine failure, the docked Battlecruisers can provide engine power to the mother vessel. Another design team looked at the Colonial Viper class fighter and made changes to it to make it compatible to our technology.

"The redesigned Viper; we're calling it a Mk III Cobra Interceptor; is faster and not dependant on tylium fuel. It has been fitted with two naquadah generators; one to provide power for the engines and other systems, and one to provide power solely for the weapons. There is a single internal rotary launch cell that will carry the SIM-182 Venom class Space Intercept Missile. It can carry fourteen of the missiles in the launcher. We've left the guns in place where they would be on a Viper, but with the additional power provided by the naquadah generator the guns are considerably more powerful. As you may recall, the Viper was a tri-wing fighter, with the wings set up in a delta formation. On the two lower wings, we've added a fairly standard dual-missile rail for Air Intercept Missiles. Though the AIMs will work in space, the SIMs will work at drastically reduced range in atmospheric conditions. The reason is that we did away with directional fins on the SIMs and replaced them with directional thrusters."

"How well do the directional thrusters work?"

"During a test firing, the Venom missile did a full one-eighty and destroyed the assigned target when it overshot."

"Outstanding!"

"We thought so to. The Immortal Strike Carriers will..."

"Strike carriers? I thought these were designed as support ships?"

"After we finished building the first one, seeing all the armament and space craft it would carry, we changed the designation."

"So you were saying?"

"Yes. The strike carrier will be home to two hundred of the Cobra interceptors, four hundred Mustang attack interceptors, one hundred and fifty bombers, and one hundred shuttles. Additionally, the two 'outrigger' pods? We made some small changes there to your designs. We subtracted some of the personal berthing areas to make room for aircraft. One of the outrigger pods will be home to a Marine Expeditionary Unit, the other to an Armored Cavalry Regiment. The MEU will have at its disposal eight AV-8B Harriers and eight AH-64D Longbow Apaches for close air support. The Cavalry Regiment will have sixteen AH-64D Longbow Apaches to provide support. Each outrigger pod will also carry a dozen Stingray light tanks, eight M109A6 Paladins for medium range fire support, eight M270A1 MLRS for long range fire support, and enough M113A3s to carry all ground fighting personnel. Each of the vehicles, whether wheeled, tracked, or airborne, is equipped with a small version of your force shield.

"When you figure in troop numbers, pilot numbers and general crew, the strike carrier will be home to approximately seven thousand two hundred personnel. Add in another thousand to cover all of the vital ship areas, engineering, bridge, security, medical, etcetera. So, eighty-two hundred, give or take a hundred."

""Good God. That's not a strike carrier, that's a fleet of its own!"

"True. We've halted construction on the remaining three Immortals, and are gearing up to produce Battlecruisers. With our production facility now at full strength in terms of CMUs, and with a full stockpile of naquadah and trinium, we can have eight of the Battlecruisers, complete with attached strike wings ready to go in a few weeks."

"Earth has five Battlecruisers at its disposal for system protection, yes?"

"Correct Marco."

"Ok. Full production on the Prometheus class Battlecruisers so the first strike carrier will have its full compliment of escorts. Is the first SC ready in all other regards?"

"No. All planes are aboard. No personnel or equipment as of yet."

"Ok. I'll work the personnel angle on this side. Once this conference is over with, I'd like to take the first SC out on its maiden voyage. Hopefully by then I will have picked out a name for her."

"Ok. Luna out."

The briefing had not taken as much time as Marius had thought so he left his quarters and went out in search of one particular individual. Though he was intending only to speak with President Ryan, he found to his surprise, said President conversing over coffee with Sergei Golovko, Russian Representative to the Earth Delegation.

"Mr. President. I had hoped to speak to you alone, but this opportunity is much too good to pass up."

"Please, Marius. Join us. Have you met Sergei Golovko?"

"I have not had the pleasure as yet. My greetings to you, Mr. Chairman."

"You are Marius? The Immortal President? Ah but it is good to finally meet you! I had hoped that Ivan Emmetovich here would arrange a meeting between us. But you are here now so I am grateful for this wonderful opportunity!"

"Please gentlemen, be seated. Coffee would be an excellent option just now. I don't know about you two, but it seems to me that the opening rounds of any multi-national conference are always quite boring. You know, during the second great war, I was a fighter pilot. At the onset of the war, or at least from the perspective of the US, I was flying fighters over England and into Germany. On one such mission, I was tasked to fly a lot further east, to carry a classified document to your Iosef Stalin. Unfortunately, my plane was shot down somewhere near Stalingrad. That was, unfortunately, the only view I've had of Russia in the past century. It was many weeks before I could get back to my unit in England, where after a short convalescence, I was transferred to the Pacific front. The documents were destroyed when the plane crashed and since high command never saw fit to tell me of their contents, my meeting with Stalin did not take place.

"Compared to my prior trip to your country, back around the turn of the 11th century, the countryside had not dramatically changed. True, it was distinctly more industrialized, but it was still, Russia."

"You were shot down near Stalingrad? I wonder if any records of your mission yet exist?"

"I could not attest to that Mr. Chairman."

"Please, call me Sergei."

"Of course. Sergei. I spent a pair of weeks assisting one of your Army units there in Stalingrad, before I was able to make my way down the coast, and then to England. The truth of it is that the time I spent with the Soviet defenders in Stalingrad is among my more treasured memories. A group of individuals, fighting against very long odds. It is the stuff of legends, yes?"

"Indeed. But you did not seek out Ivan Emmetovich just to tell this tale, no?"

"No. That was a bit of a flashback. When one is as long lived as Immortals generally are, a person or accent or place will stir up memories of past events. But enough of the memories. Jack, Sergei, I come to you a man with a problem. As you may have seen at the opening ceremony, the first of five new Immortal class vessels is ready. Initially I had envisioned it as a long range support ship. Providing logistical and medical support for this war that is to come. But as things happen, what I envisioned and what my staff created are different. The result is not a underway replenishment craft, but something more along the lines of a carrier.

"Think for a moment, if you will, Jack. When ever some major event occurs in the world, generally the first question out of the President's mouth is 'Where are our carriers?' Why is that so? Simply because a carrier is one hell of a force projection tactic. Would you two agree with this?"

"Yes."

"Da."

"Good. With that in mind think on the new Immortal class carrier. A space wing comprised of space superiority interceptors, attack craft, long range bombers, and ship to surface shuttles. If you noticed, the carrier has two 'outrigger' pods, for lack of a better term. These pods are designed to detach from the carrier and descend to a planetary landing and will act as command centers for any ground offensives. Ideally, we would place a Marine Expeditionary Unit and an Armored Cavalry Regiment aboard the carrier, one to each pod, with all the personnel and equipment needed and desired. Of course, there are always space limitations inherent in any vessel, so the requirements for equipment will have to be attenuated to achieve the 'most bang for the buck' as it were. Both ground forces should also provide their own air support as support from the space borne fighters may not always be available. Now, what I would like to see is a composite force for the first carrier. What I mean, is a force of pilots and ground troops from both the United States and from Russia, with perhaps some special forces types from Britain or Australia. Any personnel assigned to the carrier would of course be retained on lists maintained by their parent countries, however, at this time, I would venture that we will pick up their payroll issues."

"I was under the impression, Marius, that the Immortal Council did not have such a budget?"

"Not normally, no. However, Jack, we have recently made forays into the asteroid belt and have commenced mining and refining of certain precious metals. Gold. Silver. Platinum. And Titanium. And with the expected income from the licensing of certain Ancient's technology, we expect our coffers will soon be full to overflowing. Granted that at the moment, we are still finding it necessary to import a certain amount of foodstuffs from Earth, however, our agricultural facilities are proceeding apace and we expect to become at least partially self-sufficient by year's end. As an added incentive, I would add that with one full year's service aboard the carrier, I will extend immigration rights to any who wish to do so. Within limits of course."

"In as much as your offer is a generous one, comrade, I'm afraid that our military forces have pulled back from their Cold-War era standings even more so than those of the United States."

"Of this I am aware, Sergei, however if you could arrange licensing for us, of certain military designs, then the Immortal Council could see to their production."

"And which designs did you have in mind?"

"For starters, the Yakolev 141, the Kamov 50, and SS-N-19 missile. I was thinking on something also like an AEW helicopter, but the only one I am aware of is the Westland SeaKing used by the British. Unless either of you know of something similar in your own inventories?"

"Why a helicopter AEW platform and not a jet?"

"Simple Mr. Chairman. The ground deployment pods can not support such a jet. Which is why I am asking for platforms that are either vertical take-off or short roll take-off. And, frankly, the support for such aircraft as either the Mainstay AWACS or an E2-C or even an E3 would be too much particularly with the limited amount of space available within the ground deployment pods. When you factor in all the ground personnel, their support vehicles and aircraft, the space becomes an important issue."

"Alright, I can see the need for aircraft like the Yak-141 or the Ka-50, but the SS-N-19?"

"The SS-N-19 or P-700 Granat as I believe you call it, will be loaded onto the strike carrier, and perhaps onto the Battlecruisers that support the carrier, though I am not sure that we can load any amount of the Shipwreck missiles onto the Battlecruisers. In short, I want a long range strike missile capability for the strike carriers. Something that can be used against other capital ships and perhaps against planetary targets."

"Would the missile not burn up during a planetary atmospheric entry?"

"It would as it is not designed for such a flight. However, my development staff assures me that the missiles could be fitted with a limited force shield that would protect it during the atmospheric insertion phase of a planetary bombardment."

"Excellent! I would very much like a tour of this strike carrier when possible, Marius."

"Something that should be easy to arrange, for both of you. Now, with that out of the way I see that time grows short. I must bid you good day as unfortunately I must return to the conference. I have been told that the representative from Kelowna is scheduled to speak this afternoon."

"Very well. It was a pleasure to meet you Marius."

"And I you, Sergei. Jack, I will see you later I presume?"

"This evening, at dinner. I believe we are seated at the same table?"

"This evening then. Good day gentlemen."

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Conference Room
Afternoon of July 6th

"The Chair recognizes the Representative from Kelowna, Jonas Quinn."

"On behalf of the people of Kelowna, I thank the Asgard for inviting us to this conference. My greetings to one and all. I am Jonas Quinn, duly appointed Representative of the planet of Kelowna. I have listened for a few days now to the tales told by other delegates and their own planets' encounters with Anubis. This Goa'uld came to Kelowna not long ago and demanded from us a radioactive substance that we call naquadria. How such a substance came to be on our world, we do not know. We do know, however, that long ago, our world was colonized by a Goa'uld as we have examined numerous sites of antiquity. The Goa'uld left our world after my people rebelled and cast them from our world. I myself, have fought them on numerous occasions whilst in the company of SG-1 of the Tau'ri's Stargate Command facility. Which is why I am most skeptical of this proposed alliance between the Goa'uld Council and this august body. That is the purpose, after all, of this conference. But if I may suggest, there are numerous worlds and small empires represented here that are at approximately the same level of technology as Kelowna and Earth. Perhaps a mutual defense alliance between us 'lesser' worlds would also be appropriate at this time? It is something to consider.

"There are numerous worlds on the Protected Planets Treaty whose time for removal from the protections of the treaty have come. I am told that of those planets removed from the treaty because of advances in their science and culture, very few are still free of Goa'uld involvement. Is it not enough that a planet enjoys protection from the Goa'uld until such time as it has evolved sufficiently only to be forcibly enslaved once the treaty has expired for that world? The time has come for those of us who can to join together in a spirit of cooperation and mutual defense. Mr. Chairman, I ask that this measure be considered for approval by those delegates here. Thank you for your time."

"Mr. Chairman! If I may?"

"The Chair recognizes Marius, Representative of the Immortal Council."

"With respect to my learned colleague from Kelowna, I believe his idea of an alliance is an excellent one. I believe that there is a precedence for such an alliance in history, yes?"

"Yes. Once there was an alliance of four races. The Asgard. The Nox. The Furlings. And the Ancients. We were united together to guide the younger races and keep them from harm. With the passing of the Ancients to the next level of their evolution, the alliance dissolved."

"Not all of the Ancients have moved on. The one known as Tok'Ra is still here. And though we as Immortals are but babes in arms by comparison to Tok'Ra, it is we who will evolve with time to become Ancients ourselves."

"Mr. Chairman! I object to this statement! There is no proof offered by the representative of the Immortals that they will become Ancients!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I did not catch your name during the introductions a few days ago."

"You. Who claim to be cast in the image of the Ancients. I am Takreesh of the Furlings. I do not believe, for one moment, that one such as Tok'Ra would have created such an inferior human as you."

"Please. How am I inferior?"

"I see no distinction between you and the Tau'ri, or with the Colonials, and I object to them being offered three votes at this conference. All of you live in the same system. You who are Immortal were born on the home world of the Tau'ri. Yet you now have an independent voice in this proceeding. The Council of Furling demands proof of your statements! We will not allow this conference to proceed unless some measure of proof is offered!"

The next voice that was heard did not come from one place in the room, but rather from all places at once.

"Takreesh of the Furlings. You do not know me, though perhaps one of your antecedents did. I am Tok'Ra; he who is against Ra. You demand proof? What right have you to demand proof of the existence of children of the Ancients? I knew long ago that the alliance would falter when my race moved on beyond this plane of existence. But I had hoped that of all the races in the Alliance, that the Furlings would keep to their agreement and protect Earth. Did I not ask your race to do this? And did you? No. You left my children and their mortal cousins to die. I should have known better, all those millennia ago, than to trust a Furling."

"How dare you speak to me in this fashion! Show yourself, coward!"

At the center of the room, in full view of one and all, a golden cloud of sparkling particles faded into existence.

"I am here Furling. If you do not wish to partake of this new alliance, then leave. If you leave, then know this; as long as the Children of the Ancients live, there can be no relations between them and the Furlings. Are you so willing to cast aside millennia of trust between your race and mine?"

"You...you are an Ancient? You are Tok'Ra?"

"I am. The energies that make up my body also flow within the bodies of the Immortals. They, more than any other race in the known universes, are our children. This is the proof I offer to you, Furling."

"Mr. Chairman, the Furlings withdraw their objections."

For many of those in the crowded room of delegates, the sight of an Ancient made them sit up and take renewed notice of these Immortals. For Marius and Methos, it was the phrase 'known universes' that made them take notice. Methos made it a point to speak to his father at the earliest opportunity.

Shortly after the Furlings withdrew their objections, another delegate made a motion to adjourn for the day. There were many things to consider, primarily the proposed alliance of lesser worlds as put forth by the Kelownian delegate. It was something that was on the minds of many at this conference.

Marius made his way out of the conference hall and to his room. There was much on his mind and so he did not notice the other in his room.

"So you're an Immortal, eh? Not much to look at."

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"

"It's amazing what you can do with a few well placed bribes. Oh, don't bother trying the phone. I've pulled it from the wall. Now, why don't we sit for a moment. I have a request to make of you."

"You answered one of my questions. Who the hell are you remains to be determined."

"Forgive me. I'm Alex Krycek. I believe you are holding some associates of mine."

"Associates? Oh. The so called Consortium?"

"Yes. That's them."

"You want them released? Is that it?"

"Hell no! I want them tried for their crimes! I want them to suffer. The way they made me suffer."

"How so?"

"They sent me to Russia to investigate an incidence of the Black Oil. I lost my arm and they infected me with that disease! I want them to suffer! I wan them to know pain and anguish intimately!"

"They will. You understand, they can't be tried in any court on Earth. If word of their misdeeds were to leak out, there would be world-wide panic. So we've changed the venue."

"I see. Will they be executed?"

"No. The new venue does not allow for capital punishment. They will be sentenced to exile from Earth. We've prepared a nice little prison asteroid for them."

"I see. Very well then. I shall leave you now. But remember this. Things are not always as they seem. You think you have eliminated all of the Consortium members, then think again. I have already been contacted by one, one that you believe is dead. He placed quite an attractive price on your head. Were I you, I'd get myself a bodyguard."

"You're not me. I can take care of myself."

Marius felt the sting of a dart and fell at once to the floor. When he awoke a few moments later, the room was empty save for himself. In addition to everything else, he now had a new worry.

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Tour Group 6
New York City

There were two dozen different tour groups that had emerged from the Conference Hall at Las Vegas two days before. While their official delegates were busy in meetings, the lesser members of the delegations were out on various tours. Ryos, Architect of the Colonial Colony world of Mars had joined this particular group. Just now, the group was in a shuttle over flying the city these Earthers called New York.

Below him he could see a mass of humanity. The tour guide gave the population of the cities below him at over nineteen million inhabitants. He paid little attention to the droning on of the guide except for when it suited him. He had thought these primitives to be backwards but now he saw that their architecture was intriguing. It was local dusk and many in the shuttle breathed in sharply when several beams of light filled the night sky. For a brief moment, Ryos thought they were under attack. The tour guide set his mind at ease. What they were witnessing was a memorial made of light. On the spot from which the beams emanated, there had been two towers, each one hundred and ten stories high. The Twin Towers, as they were called, had been a center for international trade. Two Earth years ago, madmen had crashed one plane into each tower bringing them down with a heavy loss of life. The tour guide referred to these madmen as terrorists and hijackers both.

Ryos had heard the term terrorist before. Many thought of the Cylons as such. Those that bring terror into the night. As he gazed upon the beams of light, he noticed the view screen in front of him as it displayed an image of what the towers had been like. Again he marveled at the sheer immensity of the structures. Colonial architecture had nothing like this! The tallest structure in all the Colonies, had been a mere twenty floors. Perhaps these Earthers were not so primitive after all. Now he felt the shuttle as it banked to the west to chase the setting sun. Moments later they had left the grand city far behind. Below them stretched a mountain chain and green valleys. Here he noticed something else. Whereas the great city behind them had been full of millions of inhabitants, these great open spaces below him were dotted few and far in between with the lights of structures and cities. The Tau'ri seemed to conglomerate inside large cities, though there were many who preferred the wide open spaces left to them in their countries.

Now their tour guide pointed out vast fields below them and the numerous machines that were harvesting crops. Ryos had grown up in space and so this was new to him. He always thought of harvesting crops in the agro ships, but here he saw what it was like to harvest crops from the ground. Mars would not provide fertile ground for decades to come, but perhaps then they could make the planet green like Earth. Now the shuttle turned slightly south as they made for the vast open plains. Below him he saw vast herds of creatures. The tour guide called them cattle. The shuttle flew low enough so that the passengers could see riders on horseback moving amongst the vast herds. Their guide explained that the riders below were moving the herds either to market or to a new pasture where they could feed. When one passenger asked, the tour guided told them that cows were a major food source for the Tau'ri.

Now the shuttle banked again and headed west. Shortly they passed the coastline and then they saw below them a vast ocean, occasionally spotting a huge vessel traversing the open sea. Ryos thought that if this was how the Tau'ri moved large amounts of cargo, then the Colonials could teach them something. The guide explained that the level of advancement and technology for Earth allowed them to travel above and below the sea, though there were limits to how far down they could reach. The deepest spot in the ocean was at something called the Mariana's Trench where the seabed lay some seven miles below the surface. Only once had a manned craft traversed that distance and even then the craft was only able to spend some twenty minutes at the bottom due to the tremendous pressures exerted on the craft. The guide went further by stating that research was underway in many countries exploring the possibilities of undersea colonies. Ryos thought this ridiculously absurd as no Colonial had ever considered this possibility.

Now he looked down as the shuttle flew over a country called China. Near the coast of the vast country, were large population centers, but a little further inland Ryos was appalled at the very primitive conditions he saw. Here there were homes made of native materials, and farmers worked their fields by hand or by using beasts of burden. Ryos could not fathom the disparity between what he had seen in the country called the United States and what he saw below him in China. Could there truly be so vast a difference in life between the two nations? This he resolved to have answered the moment he returned to the conference site.

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Dinning Room
Las Vegas Hilton

It was a quiet meal, though there were various sessions of music and speeches planned throughout the evening. Marius sat at a table for nine, his companions for the evening being Jack Ryan in his capacity as President of the United States. Sergei Golovko, representing the Russian President. The Prince of Wales, as the unofficial representative of the British government. Commander Apollo, military leader of the Colonial fleet. Colonel Athena, commander of the Daedalus. Colonel Starbuck, strike commander of the Galactica. Colonel Jack O'Neill, in his role as official representative of the Ancients and Captain Adam Pierson as the delegate for Earth. Even before the meal started in earnest, Marius waved to one of the waiters attending to their table and made a short whispered request and a few moments later, the waiter returned bring several bottles of a blush wine.

"Marius, I know several vineyards, but I must confess to never having heard of Augustine Estates?"

"It's a small winery Adam, but of all the wines I've ever tried, I must admit to liking this one completely. Apollo, it's not ambrosia, but it's as close to it as you'll find on Earth."

Around the table the guests were taking short sips and tasting the wine, and they found it quite to their satisfaction, so much so that Sergei asked where he could obtain more of it.

"I'll have to send you a case Sergei. You'll find that I am quite partial to this particular winery as I happen to own it."

"Indeed? It is quite good. There is a certain flavor I'm trying to place. It is not overly pronounced, yet it is still there, like a fleeting after image."

"That's just the effect I was hoping for. I mix fresh mint into each batch."

"Mint? I never would have thought of that!"

"If you think my wine is good Adam, then wait until you try my beer."

"You brew beer also? You are a man of many talents, Marius."

"From you Methos, I consider that high praise indeed!"

"Captain Pierson, do I detect a proper British accent?"

"Quite correct, your Highness. At some point in my life, I have lived in nearly every part of the world, yet I call England my home. I've had an estate there since Rome was the dominant force in England. There is much to be said for walking about in the countryside on a proper British morning when the air is crisp with just a hint of rain."

"A most apt description. Though I much prefer to fly in those conditions than to be on the ground. I have a World War Two era fighter that I have restored. It's the same one that an uncle of mine flew during the war. A Spitfire."

"Ah! Now that was a right proper fighter plane! Your Highness, were you aware that I flew for the RAF before the US got involved in the war? No? It's true. When word came to me of the Empire's struggle with Germany, I volunteered to fly in the Eagle squadron. I flew dozens of missions before the US entered the war and I rotated stateside as an instructor pilot. When our first squadrons went to England, I was there, flying and fighting in 1942. I was shot down near Stalingrad and had to make my way back to England over the course of a few weeks, no, more like two months. After a short stay in a hospital, I was transferred to the Pacific front. I missed the battle of Midway, but flew in pretty much every major battle thereafter. I think of all my time flying, and I believe that the best invention for the airplane has been the ejector seat, because, believe me, having to pull back a canopy and climb out of a burning aircraft is not a pleasant experience. Once over Stalingrad and a few times over the Pacific were more than enough for me. Whomever said 'may you live in interesting times' never met an Immortal."

"Well said Marius. Your Highness, I too was in British uniform for all of the Second World War, as a code breaker at Station X. I was part of the team at Bletchley Park that helped to crack the Enigma codes."

"Without which, I daresay, the war might have gone on a lot longer. It seems that you have had many great adventures as Immortals. It would be a grand thing, to live as long as you do, to bear witness to so much history."

"Living as long as we do, your Highness, has its disadvantages. Outliving so many others is but one of them."

"Well said Adam. Well said."

The conversations continued on through the meal. When things were looking as if they were about to wrap up for the evening, Marius brought up the topic he had discussed earlier with President Ryan and with Chairman Golovko.

"Well, Jack, you and Sergei have had the day to think on it. What can you offer in terms of men and materiel for the first strike carrier?"

"I have discussed your request with my government and with my President. The people of Russia pledge five squadrons of pilots and two Motor Rifle companies. I have spoken at length with the designers at the Kamov and Yakolev design bureaus and they will license the two designs you seek, along with the schematics for the Granat missile system."

"Excellent!"

"I spoke briefly with Secretary Bretano and he has agreed to assign the 12th ACR to the strike carrier, provided we get them back at some point in the future."

"Of course! They will be returned and I believe somewhat better trained to take on extra-terrestrial enemies."

"Additionally, after having spoken with Sergei and hearing about the loan of two motor rifle companies, Secretary Bretano suggested a partial Marine Expeditionary Unit to round out your ground personnel needs. He is also issuing orders to all the pilots currently in training to report to Peterson for advanced training as space borne fighter pilots. That should bring your squadrons to nearly full strength."

"Very true. Yet we would still need additional pilots. Commander Apollo, would it be possible to borrow some of your pilots? To round out the squadrons and perhaps a few veteran pilots to serve as tactical instructors?"

"I think we can do this. Yes. It will be done."

"Your Highness, would England care to contribute to the cause?"

"While I do not speak for my government, I do believe that something can be arranged. You only need pilots?"

"We also need pilots. But to round out the ground personnel, I had in mind some special operations forces, perhaps a unit from each of your countries? Additionally, and if at all possible, the design schematics for the Westland SeaKing AEW helicopter?"

"I don't see that as any great problem. I shall communicate that to my government forthwith."

With one major problem off his mind now, Marius took the time to introduce the others to his other favorite passion. Beer. Again with a slight hint of mint. Marius had always thought that beer was too bitter for his taste. With the slight sweetness of mint added to the brewing process, the bitterness disappeared.

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At another table

"Sire Uri. I have much to report."

"As well you should Architect Ryos. You have been on tours of the planet, yes?"

"I have Sire. And a most interesting planet indeed. The blend of architectures from Europe to the Americas to the Far East are most unique. Back home on Caprica, we had structures that went no more than twenty floors above the ground. Did you know that here in the Americas, they have structures that stretch far into the sky? I saw buildings in a city called New York that stretched more than one hundred floors into the sky! These Earthers are not as primitive as I had thought. There is as much as they can teach us as we can teach them. In many areas, they are far behind us, yet in a number of areas, they are as far advanced as perhaps a thousand or more yahrens."

"Really? I do not see how that could be possible."

"We had small oceans on Caprica, yes? Did we ever consider traveling under them? Or living in them?"

"How preposterous! Of course not!"

"These Earthers...they not only have designed craft that can travel to the bottom of their oceans, they are designing structures that can withstand the pressures at those depths to open colonies on the sea floor. From there, they can mine the ocean floor for precious metals and vital minerals necessary to their economy. While it is true that they have only had practical nuclear power for less than a century, it is also true that they went from riding on beasts of burden to landing men on their only satellite in less than a century! It took the colonies more than a thousand yahrens to accomplish the same advance! If I may be so bold Sires and Siresses, to suggest an exchange program, between their designers, scientists, and engineers and ours? It would greatly benefit both our peoples."

"An item to be taken under advisement, architect Ryos. You have another tour scheduled tomorrow yes?"

"Yes. They will be showing us centers of manufacturing and power production."

"Very well. We expect a full report when the conference is over."

"Of course."

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July 7th
Conference Room

"This session is called to order. The chair recognizes the Representative of Earth."

"Mr. Chairman. Distinguished delegates. I have thought long and hard on the matter brought forth by the delegate of Kelowna and have come to the conclusion that such a treaty is entirely workable. Earth only has to look at its own example of this treaty to realize that is an idea with merit, though one that has its own unique set of problems. On Earth, we have a body called the United Nations. Each government on Earth sends a delegate to this body to discuss matters of international treaty and law and to send in, as a group, troops to oversee peaceful missions. This body is also responsible for missions of aid and mercy whenever the need arises. Perhaps at this conference we can lay the ground work for such an organization. I should point out that here on Earth, each nation has chosen to abide by the decisions of the United Nations, though it does not always do just that. Also, while the United Nations does maintain a force of military personnel, that force is pulled from the participating nations. Each member nation retains the right of self governance and self protection. It is not by any means a perfect system, but there are many advantages to working as a group of nations rather than attempting to solve a problem alone. Mr. Chairman, I wish to, at this time, second the motion put forth by the delegate of Kelowna. Thank you for your time."

"The motion for the formation of an alliance of planets has been put forth and seconded. The rules of the conference allow for five local planetary days of debate before the motion may be called for a vote by the conference. This body will adjourn for six hours so as to allow all member delegates to contact their respective governments. When we reconvene we will begin hearing discussion on the subject. This is meeting is adjourned for now."

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Tour Group 6
Shuttle over Washington, D.C.

"Good morning to all. Before we proceed on our scheduled tour, a suggestion was made to alter slightly the sights we will be viewing. In order to more fully demonstrate our history, we will be spending half the day at two museums in our nation's capitol city. The first is the Air and Space museum. The second is American History museum at the Behring Center. I have been told that both buildings will be closed to all except our tour groups and that there will be numerous historical experts available to answer any of your questions. If not, then we will be landing in what is called the National Mall. It is a large green space surrounded by and containing numerous monuments of historical significance. One end of the mall is capped by a monument to Abraham Lincoln, former president of the United States, while the opposite end is capped by the Capitol building."

Architect Ryos listened remotely as they flew over the green space in question. He could see the monuments to which the guide was referring. Their shuttle landed and moments later all were seated within what the Earthers called a 'tour bus' that would take them to the two museums in question. Ryos really had no use for seeing things from a historical perspective. What was past was past and would not come again. But if he had to go through this in order to see the centers for manufacturing and power production then he would do so. By the end of the day, he would find his thoughts on historical events greatly changed.

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Marius' Hotel Room

Marius sat at his terminal in his room. He was in the process of placing a call to Luna.

"Marius, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"Just touching base with you Constantine. The conference proceeds apace and I am calling to request a favor."

"Of course! Name it."

"I was visited a day or two ago by a gentleman who was formerly in the employ of the Consortium. He claimed we have nothing to fear from him, however, he also claimed that there are additional Consortium members still out there. He claimed to have been contacted by one of them who offered a substantial reward for my head."

"I see. But Marius, you should be able to handle any mortal threat, no?"

"I would love to say yes to that, however, before I could say anything to him, he hit me with a fast acting poison dart and I dropped like a rock."

"Yes. I see your point. I shall assemble a guard detail at once. I think perhaps three is a usable number, no?"

"Yes. Three would allow at least my guards to rotate their shifts as needs arise. Patch me through to Hamza would you? I have a request to make of him as well."

"Of course. Anything else Marius?"

"One more thing. The first of our strike carriers is ready. Come up with a name for the commander of the ground forces that will be housed aboard. I would prefer it were an Immortal, but we will make do with what we have."

"I'll see to it at once. Good day to you Marius and please hold while I get Hamza."

Marius had been thinking about the whole bodyguard issue for a few days, ever since his little talk with Krycek, but in truth, he didn't want the bodyguards. He wanted to be able to deal with this issue himself but he also realized that he could not. As Krycek so succinctly demonstrated, all it took was one dart and he would be down. Then his assailant could take his head. That Krycek had not done so had been a lesson learned. His reasoning in contacting Hamza was on a more personal nature. A few hundred years ago, he had studied under Hamza and learned from him the art of the weapons-smith. Hamza was a master of the art of sword making.

"Hamza. It is good to see your ugly face again, old friend."

"Were you not once a student of mine, Marius, I would have your head for that comment. But I see that the title of President has not gone completely to your head. Not yet in any case."

"I'm trying very hard not to think of myself as your President, Hamza, but there are too many people who would think of me as such. I think of myself as a soldier, not necessarily a leader. I accepted the job because the council wished it. It is something I would gladly trade to another, given the chance."

"Then that is what makes you the right man for the job. Now then, how may I be of assistance, old friend?"

"I need you to put your skills to work for me. I'm uploading a file to you. I've had in mind for some time the creation of a series of ceremonial blades for an honor guard. At the moment, the two strike teams assigned to the SGC are using standard issue military sabers. I'd like to change that to something any Immortal could actually utilize in battle if need be. I'd also like a staff weapon designed by you for use by me and the three as yet unnamed bodyguards that will be assigned to me. Something that looks like a walking staff, feels like a walking staff, yet hides within a decent blade. It must also hide any number of devices that could get a trapped Immortal out of danger. We are moving into uncertain times where any one of us, particularly those who serve the SGC, can be captured by the enemy. Any advantage in that type of situation could mean prolonged life."

"I have designed many such staff weapons in the past for Kings and Warlords. With some updating on the blade weapons, such a request is easily fulfilled. The ceremonial swords, however, are a different matter. You know as well as I do that a sword for an Immortal is as much a symbol of who they are as it is functional. Some prefer a light and easily wielded weapon while others prefer a heavy sword meant as much for cutting as for blunt force. But I shall see what I can come up with. Shall I assume that the staff weapons will take priority?"

"A good assumption. The quicker I have a reliable weapon at my ready disposal, the safer I will feel. And since it will be one of your creations, I will feel very safe indeed."

"I will take that as the compliment it was meant to be. I thank you Marius. You have given much of yourself to our cause. It shall be my honor to design a blade for you."

Marius had just closed the connection when he felt the prickly sensation that boded another Immortal near him. Just as he turned around from his terminal, Tok'Ra appeared.

"Rest easy, young one. It is only I, Tok'Ra. A situation has arisen and I am in need of your assistance on this matter."

"Of course. Father-Creator, how may I be of assistance?"

"You could start by not calling me that. True, I may have yielded some of my Quickening energies to create you and others like you, however, I am not the Creator. I shall tell you this. There is an older race, long gone from our plane of existence; the Progenitors. In the beginning, it was they who walked amongst the stars like giants, millions of years before the Ancients first took to the stars. They found the universe to be a lonely place and so they created us; they created the Ancients. Their one ideal, to nurture the younger races so that they may one day nurture other younger races. They passed along this noble goal to us, and we have done as much as possible to nurture you along. Call me father, perhaps, but not father-creator."

"As you say, Tok'Ra. Now then, father, how may I be of assistance?"

"A million years ago, our race was much like the humans are today. We were explorers, but we found the vast distances between stars a difficult void to cross. Three research teams were formed to look at different aspects of the same problem. The team I was on developed the Stargate network, which the Tau'ri and so many others utilize. Another team developed the Hyperdrive. Again, a device used by untold numbers of races. The third team; they developed the dimensional mirror. And so we began exploring, sending out Hyperdrive equipped ships to lay down the Stargate network. And we used the dimensional portal to open the pathways between dimensions. And we explored. In many other universes, we left outposts or, in many cases, monitoring stations, as we believed these particular universes to be the most promising in terms of development.

"Time passed and we evolved. These other universes were forgotten. Truthfully I had not thought of those heady days of exploration until just a few days ago, when I was visited by four others like me. Though the Ancients are still by far much older than these other Progenitor descendants, they possess many of the same skills that we do. They breached the passageway between dimensions to call to my attention the outposts we left behind many hundreds of thousands of years ago. It seems that these outposts have been discovered and the technology therein put to use, though not all of the discoveries were made by benevolent races.

"You must go to those four places and reclaim our lost technologies. There are many things you must do to accomplish that goal, but do them you must. In the wrong hands, those technologies can allow others to break the barriers between dimensions. The results of which would be disastrous. You must go Marius. You may tell three others of this task that I have lain before you."

"I will do this. But I have some conditions that must be met first."

"And what are these conditions?"

"In a month's time, I was to take the first strike carrier out on her maiden voyage. If I am on that carrier when the crossing between dimensions happens, then so be it. But that will leave Earth, Mars, and Luna virtually undefended. Is it within your power to complete one or two other strike carriers? Complete in all respects, including all equipment, and support ships?"

"I can not make something appear from nothing, but I will show you how to accomplish this task using an advanced form of your creation nanomachines. The advanced version will allow you to build a strike carrier, complete with all support craft, in a month's time. I can install those new machines today, if you accept this mission. By the time your first ship leaves this dimension, your next two ships will be ready. I believe your second ship is nearly complete?"

"It is. The third has not even had a keel laid yet however."

"That will not be a problem. What is your second request?"

"Tell me of the places I must walk, of the challenges that lie ahead of me. Is there anything that I need to be concerned with?"

"In one of those universes, you will encounter a race that has the ability to phase shift slightly out of normal sight. Your Quickening will allow you to see this race easily. That is what you wanted, yes?"

"Yes. You know of Fox Mulder? Yes? Good. Does his sister yet live?"

"Yes. She is with those the Asgard cast out long ago. And yes, he will find her."

"In my time as an Immortal I have seen many whose gift of insight and deduction led them to great fame. Yet I have rarely seen a pair like Mulder and Scully. Theirs is a gift unique amongst the Tau'ri and that gift could serve generations to come. If I gave them a choice, could they be transformed in the same manner as you did with Colonel O'Neill?"

"It is possible."

"You wanted an eternal companion for your son. One who would serve to ground him and keep him out of trouble. That is entirely understandable."

"You mentioned a dimensional portal earlier. The one I have seen in the reports of the SGC is the size of a mirror. How will I be able to transport a ship the size of a strike carrier through such a device?"

"I will equip your strike carrier with a dimension portal projector. It will open a portal large enough to allow your strike carrier to travel through. Please be aware of one thing, however. In these other dimensions where you must walk, there may be some hyperspace beacons of Ancient design for you to home in on while using the wormhole projectors on your carrier. I will feed to your navigational computers the necessary information regarding each dimension once you enter it. Please be aware, Marius, that the dimensional projector has limited usage. Once its power core is gone, it will be completely useless as the material that makes up the core comes from a dimension completely alien to this one. Seven trips is all you will get. That should be more than enough to accomplish your missions."

"A final request, Tok'Ra. Should I need you or your counsel in one of these other dimensions, will you be available?"

"You have but to call. Now, as an added bonus, Marius, I will show you how to manipulate your Quickening to summon the forces of nature. You may find it useful in all the dark places you will journey to."

"That sounds rather ominous."

And so saying, Tok'Ra passed through Marius quickly and then disappeared. And in the wake of his passage, Marius knew instinctively how to call down the lightning and the wind, the rain and the heat. The knowledge in of itself was terrifying and he hoped and prayed he would never have to use such forces.

Though it felt like he had been speaking with Tok'Ra for the better part of an hour, only a few minutes had passed and in that moment he realized that he too could slow down the passage of time to a near crawl. But it was not something he wished to test anytime soon. Marius returned to his terminal.

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Elsewhere

"My son."

"Dad? Is something wrong?"

"Your friend Marius is a wise man, though he has much yet to learn. I ask that you look after him in the months to come, for I fear I have requested of him a task that may be insurmountable and I am afraid that I am more than likely sending him and many others to their deaths."

"You said you are sending Marius to his death? But he is like me, an Immortal? How can he die?"

"I am sending him on a journey. If he survives, he will be a more able leader for this universe. If he dies, and he very well may die, he will be remembered, by me if by no one else. He has accepted a challenge that will lead him to all the dark corners of the multi-verse. He will stand in the light to shine it down onto evil. And no evil shall escape him. He is being sent on a journey to correct past mistakes of the Ancients. If he returns alive, he will be forever changed by the journey."

"What do you ask of me, Dad?"

"Give him your counsel. He may not ask for it, or even seek it out, but he will need it. If you have need of me, you have but to call my name, and I shall appear to you."

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July 12th
Conference Room

"This session is called to order. There is a motion on the floor to create an alliance of races that will deal with the threat of Anubis and the Cylons. You may use the voting machines in front of you to register your acceptance or denial of this motion."

The delegates had thirty minutes in which to cast their vote on this first issue. Thirty minutes to vote after five long, tiring and long-winded days of debate. Debate that had been oft-times very heated. But now it all came down to this. For Marius and Methos, the vote was easy. Acceptance. For the Goa'uld, the decision was harder, but it was still, acceptance. And so it went, until all the delegates had voted on this first issue.

"If you would take your seats, please. The motion to create an alliance to deal with the threat of Anubis and the Cylons has passed with a vote of nineteen hundred and fifty in favor, forty-nine against, and one abstention. The second matter before this body is that of a motion put forth by the delegate of Kelowna and seconded by the delegate of Earth in respect to the formation of an intergalactic alliance. The principle members of this newly formed alliance will be Kelowna, Colonial Mars, Immortal Luna, the Tau'ri, the Tollan, the Asgard, and the Ancients. These seven member governments may decide to allow others to join as the need arises. These seven members pledge that an attack on any one of them by any race constitutes an attack on all of them. It is an alliance of mutual defense and mutual assistance. As only seven governments are concerned with the creation of this alliance, only seven unanimous votes will be taken into consideration. However, other delegates may vote on this issue as well. Again, you may use the voting machines to register your acceptance or denial."

Thirty minutes later, that motion had passed as well, receiving the unanimous support of the principle members as well as more than fifteen hundred affirmative votes.

"The motion has passed. This concludes the business of this conference and we stand adjourned. I thank the delegates for their time in these matters and bid all of you safe journeys home. I ask that the principle members of the new alliance stay for a few moments to work out some groundwork."

Gradually the conference room emptied out leaving only Jonas of Kelowna, Apollo of Colonial Mars, Marius of Immortal Luna, Methos of the Tau'ri, Narim of the Tollan, Thor of the Asgard, and O'Neill of the Ancients. The meeting did not last long. It was more of a formality that would decide where, at least for now, a temporary headquarters facility would be located. With four of the members being from the same system of planets, the decision was reached fairly quickly. And so until a more permanent location could be found, the as yet unnamed alliance would be headquartered on Luna. The Asgard and the Tollan both pledged to build the facility, with the Kelownans and the Immortals pledging to secure the facility. Before they adjourned, Jack O'Neill put forth a name for their alliance. The Alliance of Independent Systems. Until a more formal declaration of laws could be worked out, the name would prove workable. Marius spoke for a few moments before they left.

"Gentlemen. No. Friends, I should say. What we have wrought here today, I believe, will stand for millennia. As you may or may not be aware, the shipyards under Lunar control are presently producing large warships for the upcoming battles with Anubis and the Cylons. At this time, I am prepared to pledge the following. The first ship will be given to Earth for usage by the Tau'ri. The second will go to the Colonials. The third vessel for Luna. While the Council of Immortals had only pledged to build a total of five such vessels, I will ask that an additional five be built. One for the Tollan, one for the Asgard, and one for the Kelownans. The remaining four warships will each have a fleet built around them and those four ships will eventually become the flagships of four fleets with which we will take the battle, indeed the war, to Anubis and to the Cylons. I foresee a time when we may be forced to use those fleets against our Goa'uld allies, but for now, we will battle test them against the Cylons and Anubis."

"You would give us a ship?"

"Yes, Narim. I would. It is what friends do for one another. The basic design of the vessel will remain unchanged for all, but you are to feel free to install anything else you deem fit. Once given to you, that ship will remain in the service of Tollana alone. The same for Kelowna and for the Asgard as well as the Tau'ri and the Colonials."

"But are you not also Tau'ri?"

"I thought I was once, Narim. I was born on Earth and have spent the last two millennia there. But I am a child of the Ancients. An Immortal. Or as the Goa'uld might say, a hok'tar. It is perhaps time that we Immortals thought of ourselves in the manner the Ancients meant for us to be, as guardians for this universe."

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July 21st
Tollan Home World
Chambers of the Curia

It had been a long hard road for Fox Mulder of the FBI. Ten years spent chasing the men who in only a few moments would be placed on trial for their crimes against the peoples of Earth. He would act as Seeker for this trial, if it could be called that. The rules of Tollan law were vastly different from Earth rules. Acting in the role of Archon for Earth was Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, in his capacity as Judge Advocate General for the United States military. The smoking bastard himself, C.G.B. Spender, was acting as the other Archon. Under the rules of Tollan law, a neutral third party had been found and asked to serve. There had been much debate on this particular subject, but in the end, Jonas of Kelowna had agreed to serve in this capacity.

"Greetings to all. I am High Councilor Travell of Tollana. The parties within this chamber have agreed to abide by the decision of this Triad. The parties have also agreed to all the rules of Triad. Lastly, though there had been a request for two separate Triads at the onset, they have been combined into one for the sake of expediency. We will hear first from Fox William Mulder, Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation of the United States of America, Earth. Please Mr. Mulder, if you would give us a short summary of the deeds purported by you to have been done by the Archon Spender and his associates."

"Thank you madam chair. There has existed on Earth, for a number of decades, a conspiracy to hide the truth from the peoples of Earth. The leader of this conspiracy, Spender, has in his time, authorized the abduction of my fellow citizens for the purposes of experimentation. Experiments, I might add, that no Earth government, or any government for that matter, would ever condone on one of its enemies, let alone on its own citizens. Experiments that included the harvesting of ova from female subjects so as to create genetically perfect clones. The harvesting of aforementioned ova for the creation of human-alien hybrids. They have endeavored to create a biological weapon, that if released on Earth, would have killed off the vast majority of the population.

"They have created advanced vehicles for atmospheric and space flight, with little or no regard for the safety of the pilots of said vehicles. I have documented proof that the pilots of those vehicles were exposed to radiation the likes of which would kill any person in this room within minutes. They have used those vehicles to perpetuate the lie that aliens, that is, persons of extra-terrestrial origin, had been abducting our citizenry. For more than a decade during my investigations of this organization, I have seen evidence and have logged it into the proper authorities only to have said evidence disappear. The man seated there, to the left of me, is responsible for more atrocities than even the worst psychotic mind my race has ever produced."

"Thank you Agent Mulder. We will now hear from Archon Spender."

"Good day to all. While Agent Mulder may certainly be creative in his characterization of the truth as he knows it, I certainly will not deny that I and my associates have done what he claims. Yes, we authorized the harvesting of ova, but it was only done after certain characteristics were noted in the women whose ova were taken. We made many advances in the mapping of the human genome. Some of those advances have been given to the right people so that our research could continue unmolested. Mr. Mulder, is quite correct that we performed this research, however, it was with the blessing and consent of many world governments. Our breakthroughs in human genetics and in cloning have led to many advances in medical science.

"Yes, we have created advanced aircraft, and we have used them to perpetuate the myth of alien abduction, but here we only adopted a ruse that others had already used. Strange how our planetary media have not picked up on the fact that numerous sightings of supposed aliens mostly resemble the Asgard? But yes, we did create advanced aircraft. In fact our designs are being studied by various world governments for possible adaptation in their own military arsenals. As to the charge that we created biological weapons, that madam chair, is an outright falsehood. The weapon in question is something that we internally called the Black Oil or the Black Cancer. It is an insidious virus of extra-terrestrial origin that upon infection, transforms the host into an alien entity. It is true that we did experiment with it, that we did purposefully infect test subjects with this virus, but that was merely to chart the method by which the organism transforms its host so that we could develop a cure and a vaccine.

"Mr. Mulder would have you believe that we in the so-called 'Consortium' are nothing more than power hungry psychotics who wished to enslave their fellow man. Nothing could be further from the truth. What we did, and I fully admit to most everything in the list of charges, we did for the betterment of mankind. So that we, not some alien virus, would be the winner in this most horrid and abhorrent of wars. We could ill afford to follow the letter of the laws of Earth. In point of fact, oft times we followed the spirit of those laws in our actions."

"We will now hear from the Earth Archon, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden."

"High Councilor Travell, fellow Archons. The matter before us this day is not an easy one. The list of charges against Archon Spender and his associates, if they had been heard in an Earth court, would undoubtedly have resulted in the most severest of punishments; death. But we are not on Earth. The most severe punishment available to us on Tollana is exile. So let us examine the arguments put forth by Archon Spender in detail.

"He fully admits to the ordering of numerous abductions of Earth's citizens. This is not in question. But whether those who were abducted were taken for peaceful purposes or nefarious ones, the fact is that they were taken against their will. These men and women of Earth had no say in the matter. They had no say as to whether their ova would be harvested and they certainly had no say in how those ova were utilized. The fact that they were conducting genetic research can be construed in various ways. However, on Earth, such genetic research is highly scrutinized. The fact that they were also conducting experiments in human cloning, experiments that have been banned in every nation on Earth, tells me that their purposes in conducting these abductions were more nefarious than peaceful.

"Furthermore, the fact that Archon Spender admits to the ordering of purposeful infections of test subjects using the alien virus is abhorrent in the extreme. Dr. Scully, an associate of Agent Mulder, has stated for the record that no cure exists for the alien virus. That once infected, if not immediately treated with a vaccine, the host creature, be it human or lower life form, is slowly transformed into an alien entity. The rest is speculation on her part, but is based on autopsies conducted by her person. That is, that the host is alive during the incubation process, that they can feel the entity growing within them and that they can do nothing to stop it. She speculates that the alien entity over rides a portion of the human brain and prevents the host from taking its own life.

"Additionally, there is the matter of their creation of advanced aircraft. Now, being a member of the military, I see the need for newer and more advanced aircraft, particularly in light of recent events in our galaxy. However, there are tried and true methods for testing such aircraft, and exposing the pilots to dangerous levels of radiation is not one of those methods. Our military pilots train for years and it takes time and financial resources to train those pilots. To think that these men could throw away talented human lives so easily goes against my very nature as a military officer.

"Fellow Archons, were this case to have been heard on Earth, I would not have been hard pressed to have found Spender and his associates guilty of all charges. I would not have lost any sleep over having them sentenced to death. But, we are not on Earth, and things are different here. The death penalty is out of the question. I vote for exile."

"You have each presented your arguments well and concisely. We will adjourn for three hours while the Neutral Archon considers your statements. We stand adjourned."

Marius had not been allowed in the Curia chambers whilst the arguments were made. For that matter, other than the seeker, and the three archons, and of course, Travell, no one else had been allowed in to the Curia chambers. But now that they had recessed for three hours, Marius found himself walking up to High Councilor Travell.

"Councilor Travell? If I may have a few moments of your time?"

"President Augustus. Of course. Let us go to my office, where we will not be disturbed."

"After you, madam."

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"Now then, President Augustus, to what do I owe this honor?"

"Please, Councilor, call me Marius."

"Very well. Marius. Is construction proceeding well on Luna?"

"Yes actually. Your building techniques are not radically different from ours, though they are much faster. The building is proceeding quite quickly, particularly now that the force fields are in place. With the shields in place, there is no need for the construction crews to wear bulky spacesuits. Hopefully, you will consent to placing one or two of your ion cannons for added defense of the headquarters facility?"

"That particular item is scheduled for debate before the Curia after this matter of Triad is completed. "

"Good. Now, if I may ask a question?"

"Of course, Marius, but you do realize that any question of a technological level will have to go before the full Curia?"

"I do, but the question I have is more a curious one that anything to do with technology. I listened quite closely to the statements made by the parties just a few moments ago. I must say, that Spender's arguments, though grossly misguided, have some merit."

"I had not expected you to say that. Was it not you that they abducted and experimented on?"

"Yes, I was one of their test subjects. I said their actions were misguided. I did not say I approved of them. I wonder, with all your advances in the medical sciences, and with the statements made by Narim to members of the Tau'ri previously that crime is almost unheard of on your world, I wonder how that can be?"

"All of our citizens are implanted with health monitors. Additionally, all undergo routine psychological examinations and if anything is found amiss, then appropriate actions are taken immediately."

"I see. Would such appropriate actions include possibly the complete erasure of the short and long term memory or perhaps the personality centers of the brain?"

"Such a procedure is possible with our technology. If a Tollan were found to be mentally unstable, for whatever reason, that person would undergo a mind and personality erasure and a new personality and skill set implanted."

"As an alternative to permanent exile, that may have some appeal to Spender and his associates. Would the Tollan be willing to do this for us? To wipe their personality and memory engrams and to rebuild them with something more appropriate? The prison asteroid that we have created for them can just as easily be turned into a listening post. Or a deep space radar post. Or even a research post."

"Even with all that they have done to you and to other Tau'ri, you would consider this form of punishment?"

"I would Councilor. I have been alive for over two millennia. In my time, I have been sentenced to exile once or twice. Such a punishment is worse than death. Knowing that you can never return to your home, upon fear of death. I wouldn't wish exile on anyone. Perhaps this re-programming of yours could be offered as a viable option?"

"Yes, I think that will be possible, provided of course, that they are willing."

"Of course."

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Curia Chamber
Tollana

The Triad was about to reconvene, and Marius had his answer from the Tollans. The mind wipe procedure would be available to any of the accused if they opted for the procedure.

"Triad is now in session. Does the Neutral Archon have any questions for either party?"

"I do. Consortium Archon, you admit to everything that has been done to the population on Earth?"

"We do. But again, what we did was for the safety of Earth."

"I see. So in your eyes you are not guilty of the crimes charged?"

"We are not guilty of anything but fighting to preserve the Earth way of life."

"I take that as a not guilty. Earth Archon, how do Earth laws interpret the actions of the Consortium?"

"They have admitted their culpability to their actions. Their actions have violated numerous Earth laws. We vote guilty."

"I see. Then the deciding vote must come from me. This is a most difficult situation. The Consortium has admitted culpability yet they admit no guilt. It is obvious that numerous Earth laws were broken in pursuit of their actions, yet they claim it was done for the safety and security of Earth. But for lofty goals such as those to come to fruition, it must be in accordance with all parties and the laws of all parties. That such work was done in secret tells me that they were in pursuit of these goals not for the betterment of their fellow man, but for the betterment of themselves. I must agree, therefore, with the Earth Archon and vote guilty."

"Before sentence is pronounced, President Augustus wishes to address the Triad. Mr. President?"

"Thank you Councilor. We find ourselves, now that the Consortium has been found guilty, faced with an impressive dilemma. The rules of Triad forbid a death penalty, that much was known prior to the commencement of these proceedings. They do allow for exile however. That exile would be permanent. To this end, we of the Immortal Council, upon request from the Earth contingent, have developed a prison asteroid for the Consortium members. They will live out their lives on that asteroid, with no hope of ever returning to Earth. Once they are inside their prison home, the outer airlocks will be welded shut, and a cover of reinforced trinium laid over the airlocks. They must work for everything within their new home. If something breaks, they must fix it. The asteroid is equipped with hydroponic facilities so that the prisoners will not starve. They must grow their own food, repair or make their own clothing, and they must extract their own atmospheric gases from the supplies provided. If each of them does their fare share of the work required, they will continue to live. If one of them fails to do the work, all will suffer.

"But there is an alternative, thanks to the Tollan and their advanced medical sciences. Having experienced exile myself, I know that it is not an easy thing to accept, that is, not being able to return to your home. In this light, I have asked the Tollan to make available to any or all of the Consortium members here a process called mind erasure. Your memories and personality will be completely erased and a new set of memories and a new personality encoded therein. But this is not a decision to be made with long thought. It must be a quick decision. So decide now. Councilor?"

"Your offer, Mr. President, considering what they did to you and others of the Tau'ri is most generous. It shows the true quality of leadership. Now then, Consortium Archon, you have been found guilty by Triad of the charges aforementioned. Decide. I will call each of you by name and you must give your decision."

"Archon Spender, what is your decision?"

"Exile."

"Ms. Diana Fowley, your decision?"

"Erasure."

"Ms. Marita Covarrubias?"

"Erasure."

"Mr. Brad Follmer?"

"Erasure."

"Mr. Alvin Kersh?"

"Erasure."

"Mr. Richard Matheson?"

"Erasure."

"Archon Spender, as all of your associates have chosen erasure, do you wish to reconsider your decision?"

"Yes. Erasure."

"Very well then. Guards? Take them to the medical center where they will be separated and sequestered until such time as our doctors and scientists have declared their former memories and personalities erased. This Triad is now complete and we are adjourned."

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Outside the Chambers of the Curia, Agents Mulder and Scully accosted Marius.

"Erasure? Are you out of your mind!? After what those people did to us, to Earth, you give the option of erasure? Good God man, why?"

"Simple numbers really. Tell me, Mr. Mulder, how long does it take to train a soldier? Or a scientist or engineer?"

"Years. Why?"

"The enemy we are fighting, they are cybernetic. They can build billions upon billions upon billions of soldiers and have them ready to fight and fly as soon as they are built. When faced with odds like those, even the most stubborn of us, the most brave of us, cowers. But we can't afford to cower. To do so would mean the enslavement of the entire galaxy, possibly other galaxies as well. We can ill afford to do that. So I gave them the option. But there was a catch, and I'll fill you in on that now. After the procedures and they have been retrained, as scientists and engineers, they will be shipped to a certain 'research' asteroid. So, either way, we win and they are off Earth for good."

"You sneaky SOB. I'll admit I was confused, but your plan is most admirable."

"Thank you, Dr. Scully. Now, if the two of you would join me for a walk, I have something else I must inform you of."

And so they walked. And Marius told him of his deal with Tok'Ra. And they became two of the three people he would be allowed to tell. But how could they accept Immortality if it meant outliving their son, William?

"Tok'Ra? Are you around?"

"I am here, Marius. Have your two friends decided?"

"They have a question first. Dana?"

"Mulder and I have considered the offer. But we can not in good conscience accept the offer knowing that we will outlive our son."

"That should not concern you, Dana. Your son, I have already examined. He is destined to become Immortal. He is, as other Immortals would call it, a pre-Immortal."

"He has the potential to become an Immortal? In that case, both Mulder and I accept this gift."

So saying, Tok'Ra flew at both of them and passed through them. And when Tok'Ra was done, two new Ancients had been brought into the universe.

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August 6th
Personal Log

"It has been a hectic few weeks, and now the new headquarters of the Alliance of Independent Systems building is complete. All of the founding members have sent delegations to the building and they have written in record time, a charter for the organization. Drawn upon from the many documents of Earth, of the Tollan, and the Kelownans, the AIS charter calls for mutual defense in the event of attack, mutual aid in the event of catastrophe, and peace through force. If one member world is attacked, all are to consider themselves under attack and rush to the aid of the attacked world. If one world experiences a catastrophe of any kind, be it planet quake, or volcanic eruption, or even widespread crop failure, all will come to the aid of that world. Peace through force. An example of three words that when spoken, speak volumes. Peace is achievable. But it can only be maintained through force, but only where necessary. It allows for each member system to cede to the AIS control, up to ten percent of their military forces.

"The first strike carrier has received a name. All carriers to follow will be named in the same fashion, for the great fleet admirals in Earth history. The first strike carrier, which goes out on extended trials in less than a week, is the AIS Strike Carrier Admiral Halsey. The next one will be the Kuznetsov, followed by the Nelson, the Spruance, and the Bismarck.

"AIS Halsey has undergone a minor re-fit to accommodate the SS-N-19 missiles, which have been since re-designated to their more common name of 'Shipwreck'. True to Tok'Ra's word, the creation engines at the Luna Shipyards have been updated and are now able to produce in record time. The research staff at Luna is looking at ways to make them even more productive.

"The former members of the Consortium have undergone their erasure procedures and have been retrained as viable scientists and engineers. They have been posted to the re-fitted research asteroid.

"Agent Dana Scully has accepted a position with the AIS to serve as Chief Medical Officer aboard the AIS Halsey. Her partner, Agent Fox Mulder, has also accepted a position on the AIS Halsey and will now be head of the diplomatic first contact team. Technically, both positions should have been given to military officers, so the AIS Ruling Council granted both of them commissions at the equivalent rank. Two more Majors for the officer's pool aboard the Halsey. The JAG, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, because of the sheer amount of military troops that would be based on the strike carriers, consented to assigning a shipboard JAG. After a rather swift set of promotions, Commander Bud Roberts, and his wife, Lieutenant Commander Harriet Roberts have come aboard the Halsey and are settling in to their new offices.

"Piper, the woman who held my interest, made her choice and I will honor it. I can only hope that she and Leo will live a long a fruitful life together. I wish her well.

"Marcus Constantine is very good at his job. He named three bodyguards to my protective detail. Kyra, a five hundred year old Immortal. Reagan Cole, a thousand year old Immortal. And Alison, a fairly new Immortal at only two hundred. Three women. This could be fun.

"Marcus also nominated an overall ground commander for the AIS Halsey. A nomination that saw little debate in the Council chambers of the AIS. As of tomorrow, Kassim will assume his duties as ground commander. At his disposal are two deployment pods, each with a mixed nationality regiment, that is, a regiment composed of members from various Earth nations. Primarily from the five permanent members of the UN Security Council; the US, the UK, Russia, China, and France, though there are two SAS teams from Australia.

"The pilots are having fun while we are still in Earth orbit. The Halsey has received its full compliment of squadrons and eight Battlecruisers. It makes for an interesting sight when the Halsey comes into view and the eight Battlecruisers are docked, four 'above' and four 'below'. Each Battlecruiser has been slightly re-fit to accommodate twelve F-302 attack fighters, twelve Cobra interceptors, and two shuttles, along with a pair of forward looking launch tubes for the Harpoon anti-ship missiles. The AIS Council has also approved names for the Battlecruisers. They will be named for cities within the systems of the ruling council. Prometheus will retain its name as the lead ship in the class, but the other ships joining the Halsey for trials will be the Dallas, the Kiev, the Tollana, the Kelowna, the Ryan, the Cydonia, and the Los Angeles.

"The AIS Halsey has also been completely stocked with provisions and equipment, just in case.

"I had a chance to speak with Apollo recently. I asked him how it was possible that his people spoke Earth standard English? His response? They were speaking Colonial standard. How odd that two languages could evolve so far apart and yet still be similar enough that we understand each other. Another of the universe's little mysteries, I guess. Unless Tok'Ra and his associates had something to do with this mystery. I tend to believe that they did, rather than to trust chance at the former theory.

"SG-1 will be accompanying us on the extended trials for the Halsey. Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c will be assuming temporary roles as wing commanders for the squadrons. Major Carter will join the bridge crew. Doctor Jackson will join Mulder's first contact team. And Methos, will join me on the bridge as my second in command. The AIS Ruling Council have given to me the honor of being the first Captain for the Halsey. It is a role that I will do my utmost to fulfill.

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August 12th
Space Station Independence

It was a tremendous crowd that turned out to see the Halsey off on her maiden voyage. A shakedown cruise to work out all the little bugs known to be hiding in her systems. Though it was planned as a short duration mission, her storage spaces were filled to capacity. All squadrons were aboard, the troop pods at full readiness. The main view screen aboard the Halsey showed the view of Independence Station, the first space station to be completed as a joint venture between Earth, Colonial Mars, and Immortal Luna. A huge station, bristling with weapons ports and docking bays. It was home to over a thousand personnel. Five full manufacturing centers, research labs, and even a large agricultural dome at the top that would be, in time, home to a decent sized forest of food producing plants and trees.

"Independence Station to AIS Halsey. You are cleared to maneuver."

"Roger Independence. Ok people. Let's make this one count. Helm, move us away from the station, thrusters only."

"Aye sir."

Slowly, the Halsey moved out from one of the two large docking ports that had been attached to Independence Station. With mooring cables released, the Halsey increased her speed until she was moving away from the station at 500 kph.

"Independence Station to AIS Halsey. We show you clear of the docking station. Good luck and God speed. Independence out."

"Helm, plot a course for the Orion cluster."

"Course plotted, sir."

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain. Secure for hyperspace transit. When we emerge from transit, all ready squadrons will launch into a CAP. That is all."

Aboard Independence Station, the crowd looked on as the Halsey styled for a moment, before the large fore-mounted wormhole projectors activated. It was a new and untested technology, at least to them. It was a technology that the Ancients had first developed and deployed millennia ago. The projectors opened the wormhole and the Halsey moved through. It would not be an instantaneous journey, as the sheer mass involved and the amount of power necessary to open a stable wormhole were both immense. But within ten minutes, the Halsey would emerge at a predetermined spot in the Orion cluster, where the Battlecruisers Houston and Moscow were waiting. The ships were there to scout out the cluster and to lay down an early warning net of sensors.

Unfortunately, the Halsey did not emerge from the wormhole into the Orion cluster. Or rather, they did, but not in this universe.

And while they were in transit to Orion, something else, quite unexpected happened on Earth.

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White House
Oval Office

The man walked in as if the mere act of walking into the Oval Office were the most natural thing in the world. The President was sitting at his desk speaking with his Chief of Staff, Arnold van Damm, seated in front of the desk.

"Senator Kinsey?!? You're supposed to be dead!"

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Mr. Ryan."

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3

PERSISTENCE
PART 3 OF THE POTENTIALS SERIES
Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible.

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Part I
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Aboard Independence Station, the crowd looked on as the Halsey styled for a moment, before the large fore-mounted wormhole projectors activated. It was a new and untested technology, at least to them. It was a technology that the Ancients had first developed and deployed millennia ago. The projectors opened the wormhole and the Halsey moved through. It would not be an instantaneous journey, as the sheer mass involved and the amount of power necessary to open a stable wormhole were both immense. But within ten minutes, the Halsey would emerge at a predetermined spot in the Orion cluster, where the battlecruisers Houston and Moscow were waiting. The cruisers were there to scout out the cluster and to lay down an early
warning net of sensors.

Unfortunately, the Halsey did not emerge from the wormhole into the Orion cluster. Or rather, they did, but not in this universe.

And while they were in transit to Orion, something else quite unexpected happened on Earth.

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White House
Oval Office

The man walked in as if the mere act of walking into the Oval Office were the most natural thing in the world. The President was sitting at his desk speaking with his Chief of Staff, Arnold van Damm, seated in front of the desk.

"Senator Kinsey?!? You're supposed to be dead!"

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Mr. Ryan. I am quite alive as you can see. And you, sir, have no business sitting in that chair. I was very much against President Durling naming you as his Vice President, but I went along with it because he promised that you would serve out the remainder of the term and then fade away. Now I see that you have intentions to run for President in the next election and I, sir, will be running against you. You have left open that Pandora's Box called the Stargate and it has brought nothing but ill to this world. I'll see to it that no more funding is given to that project. That project must be closed! Furthermore, all these so-called Immortals, are nothing but freaks of humanity and they should be rounded up and dissected so that no one but the United States can benefit from their gift!"

"That would be a bad move, Senator. A very bad move indeed."

"It is in the best interest of the US, Mr. Ryan."

"That's President Ryan to you, Senator."

"I don't know what your game is, Kinsey, but I'll do my best to see that the truth is heard, particularly the transcript of the trial of the Consortium members. You see, before his sentence was imposed, Mr. Spender named you as an accomplice to their actions. Senator Matheson is now serving his 'prison' term. NID has been disbanded. You have no associates left, Senator. Do the US a favor and fade into obscurity."

"No, Mr. Van Damm, I won't."

The Senator from Maryland left the way he came, out the main door. He walked out of the White House like he owned it, like it was his house and like he would be back for good. He had every intention of being named President. And if he had his way, it would be President for Life.

"Jack, he's gonna be trouble. We need to nip that in the bud."

"Yes. We do. But how?"

"Let me work on that."

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AIS Strike Carrier Admiral Halsey
Main Bridge
Journey Day 1

The Halsey was nearing the end of the ten minute wormhole transit when alarms began blaring out on the bridge.

"Sir! We're registering an overload on the wormhole projectors!"

"Shut them down!"

"We don't know what effect that will have on our transit!"

"A risk we'll have to take. Better to be stranded between stars than to ride a wormhole until we run out of fuel. There's enough fuel in those wormhole projectors to last a decade!"

"Shunting power!"

The Halsey seemed to shudder for a brief moment before it was spat out of the wormhole at high velocity. The power shunt had directed the overload directly to the dimensional portal projectors, just as Tok'Ra had designed them to do so.

"We're out!"

"Flight deck! Launch Ready CAP!"

"Damage report!"

"Sir, the power overload was shunted, but we can't identify the system it was shunted to. Engineering is working the problem."

"Sensors! Report!"

"Area is clear out to a distance of five light years. "

"Weps?"

"All weapons systems showing green. Force field projectors all show green, sir."

"Navigation?"

"Not picking up any beacons from any Combat Gates. Stellar charts put us about ten light years distant from Epsilon Eridani system. Sir, according to the charts, we should be very near Kelowna."

"How near?"

"Two light years, sir."

"Sensors. Launch three cloaked probes. One at the Kelownan system, one towards Epsilon, the other towards Earth. Let's get some long range sensors training while we figure out what went wrong with the power flow."

"Aye sir. Probes launching now."

Three probes left the Halsey in quick succession. They maneuvered for a few seconds to put them on a starting trajectory that would bring them to their targets. A second after their initial thrust maneuvers were complete, all three probes successfully cloaked and a second later, entered hyperspace. Because of the distances involved, Kelowna would be probed first, followed by Earth, then Epsilon. The sensors officer, Lt. Jameson, late of the Royal Navy, would monitor the probes for the duration of the exercise.

Without being told what to do, Major Carter was already working with the engineering crew to find the source of the problem. Minor injuries were being reported throughout the ship, but thankfully no casualties. While engineering worked the problem, others were taking the time to run drills. On the flight deck, Colonel O'Neill was directing the plane handlers to make ready for a combat launch. The hangars aboard the strike carriers had been designed to eject as many fighters at one time as was possible. In this case, that number was ninety. Each of the five primary hangar bays had eighteen launch catapults. The catapults were stacked three high and six across. Each bay could eject eighteen fighters at one time. O'Neill set up three bays with fighters and two with interceptors. A flight of bombers were standing by in one of the auxiliary bays as they were too large to launch out of the catapults.

The battlecruisers had detached from their mounts and were preparing their own flights of fighters for launch. All in all, it was excellent training and it gave the squadron leaders and the two strike wing commanders the chance to see where the problems were so they could fix them. By the time the deck crews had gone through two sets of 'pretend' combat launches, their setup times had improved from thirty minutes at the onset, to ten minutes on the latest pass. Still, O'Neill would not be satisfied until they cut that number in half.

On the Bridge, Lt. Jameson was seeing some startling information coming through from the three probes.

"Sir? I have the probe data."

"Main screen. What am I looking at?"

"This is the data from Kelownan probe. But Kelowna isn't there. Where it should be, there is only an asteroid field."

"How is that possible? Are there any indications of weapons fire?"

"No sir. The damage appears to be at least a million years old. Almost as if the planet was torn apart before it could properly form."

"Not good. What else?"

"Switching to probe feed from Earth sir. We're receiving, but none of the landmarks are there."

"Where the hell is Independence Station? We only just left a little more than two hours ago?"

"Unknown sir. There's more. The main dome on Luna, the Colonial settlement on Mars. Both are gone, sir."

"Gone?! What do you mean, gone?!"

"Well, there are domes on Luna and Mars, but they're not the domes we know sir. There are a number of ships in the Sol system, but none are even remotely similar to the ships in our fleet, sir."

"That ship there. Lower left corner. Magnify."

"Aye sir. Looks like that says 'Agamemnon'."

"That's my read too. Rotating hull sections? They must not have artificial gravity. Any comms intercepted by the probe, Jameson?"

"Yes sir. Picking up something called Interstellar News. Martial law? Sir, it appears as though Earth has declared martial law at home and on her colonies? What the hell?"

"Continue to monitor. Show me Epsilon."

"Aye sir. Switching to Epsilon probe feed."

"Oh my, that's a big station!"

"Confirmed sir. Probe data indicate it is five miles long. The probe is also picking up an odd gate-like device hanging in space near the station. Earth probe now picking up an identical gate in that system near Io."

"Continue to monitor all probes. Pierson, you have the Conn. I'll be in my office."

"Sure, Marius."

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An hour later, Lieutenant Jameson was standing in his office, adjacent to the main bridge, to report his findings.

"Summarize it for me, Jameson."

"Sir. I've run every scan I can think of in the Kelownan system. The damage to the planet we know as Kelowna appears to be millions of years old. There is no evidence whatsoever that there was ever any life on Kelowna. The only good news I have to report is that the asteroid field is extremely rich in naquadah, trinium, naquadria, and tylium. This is by far the richest field I've ever had the pleasure of seeing, not that I've seen very many. The field is a five minute hyperspace jump away sir, and within three days, we could have more than enough of those metals to build a dozen strike carriers."

"Well, that is something. What about Earth?"

"The news is not good at all there sir. I don't really know how to describe it sir, but none of what we knew is there. The probe picked up a signal from an atomic clock in the system and the year is 2260. Before you say anything, sir, it gets much worse. Apparently the nations of Earth have banded together to form one planetary government, with elected representatives from each member country. There is one leader of Earth, a President Morgan Clark. Sir, it is my opinion that the man in charge is playing with less than a full deck. There are dozens of news reports about how the alien influence is ruining Earth. There is an organization called Night Watch that sounds more like something out of Nazi Germany than anything modern. Clark has declared martial law and is actively hunting down anyone that speaks out against him. Earth has several off-world colonies and one space station. There is something else sir. It appears as commercial advertisement, so normally, I wouldn't put much stock into it, however, that it appears at all is what worries me."

"Spit it out, son."

"An advertisement on what to do should you suspect yourself or a friend is a psionic. There is an organization on Earth called Psi-Corps. Frankly sir, it scares the hell out of me, especially if someone can read my mind without my knowledge!"

"Continue to monitor Earth space and that station in Epsilon. I want to know what Earth does next and how that station responds. Dismissed."

"Aye sir."

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Immortal Shipyards
Immortal Design Bureau
Office of Mitch Guerra

He was in shock. Hell, the whole staff at the IDB was in shock. The first strike carrier to set out from the shipyard and it disappears. No wreckage, no escape pods, no sign of anything at all. When the Halsey did not arrive on time, the Houston and the Moscow began searching along their projected course, with no results. Not that they found anything, it was the simple fact that they found absolutely nothing of the Halsey. That's what worried him.

This was his first opportunity in the last several hours, hell days actually, to sit down. All of the staff at the IDB were looking over the last telemetry data received at Independence Station before the Halsey had entered her wormhole. But they could see nothing wrong in the readings. As far as they knew, everything was working according to specifications. Guerra put his head in his hands for a moment. The shock of it was still setting in. The man he had called friend was gone.

He looked up after some time to realize that his computer screen was flashing 'new mail' at him. He hadn't noticed it before when he had walked in, and Mitch guessed that he must have been too shocked, too tired to notice.

"Mitch, if you're reading this, then Tok'Ra's plan worked and I'm very far away. He told me I could tell three people of his request to me and guess what old buddy, you're number three. It seems that a few million years ago, when the Ancients were first exploring the universe, they used slow ships; the kind we would still be using had we not learned how to use the Stargate. Tok'Ra told me they set up three research teams. One designed and developed the Stargate. Another created the means of hyperspace travel. The third team, that's the one that concerns us the most. Or rather, the one that concerns me the most. You see, that third team developed a way to travel between dimensions. Yeah, I did say dimensions.

"Anyways, the Ancients did a lot of exploring. This was all back before they evolved and you know what? They found the universe to be a lonely place. So they used their dimensional portal and guess what? Other universes were also lonely places. But they found in four places, the potential for humanoid life that was similar to our own. Or their own. I'm still not sure which of our species Tok'Ra was referring to. In any case, the Ancients set up at least four outpost worlds, one in each of the four universes they wanted to keep an eye on.

"Over time, they gathered a lot of intelligence and they made a few friends as well. And in time, the Ancients evolved and left our plane of existence. Guess what? After they evolved, they couldn't be bothered to maintain those outpost worlds. The gateway between dimensions was shut down, and the outpost worlds were forgotten. Until recently that is. Someone out there reminded Tok'Ra of what they had done so long ago. Someone out there told Tok'Ra that other, less benevolent races had chanced upon those outpost worlds and were using the technology there to enslave their universes. Normally that wouldn't affect any of us here, but unless that tech is retrieved, the chances that those other races could develop the dimensional technology are pretty darn high. Tok'Ra can't do this himself. So he's sending me.

"But I have a favour to ask. I don't know how long I'll be gone and I don't know if I'll make it back alive, though I certainly will try. The information I have given you, you must promise me right now that you will take it to the grave. Now, about that favour. You'll find an attachment to this voice mail file. It's a new ship design I came up with after watching the Asgard video of the Goa'uld battle. It's a rather narrow ship, maybe only a couple hundred meters wide and six or seven hundred meters long. The strike carriers are great and in theory, they'll allow us to launch waves of fighters at an oncoming enemy. The big guns and the missile launch tubes are the only real offensive weapons the ship has however. The same is true of the battlecruisers, though they carry a whole lot less fighters.

"So I had in mind something that would travel with the strike carrier group. A support ship of sorts. Two very large turrets fore and two very large turrets aft. Not rail guns. Not pulsar guns. I want these guns to fire plasma projectiles. Large plasma projectiles. The design also has numerous missile launchers mounted on the ship. The inspiration for the design came from the US Navy's Iowa class and from the Russian Kirov class. Look at those two for more ideas. Long range fire is what I'm after. Get with your teams and get to work on these new ships. They could mean the difference between victory or defeat when we face the Cylon battle fleets. I was thinking along the lines of four or six to support each strike carrier. In any case, I know you'll do your best with this design. I'll see you when I see you. Luck."

Mitch had not expected that. Mail from Marco. He would keep the secret. He vowed that on his very soul.

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AIS Admiral Halsey
Kelowna System
Journey Day 4

The Halsey had been prowling the asteroid field for three days now. In three days they had filled the raw metals storage tanks to overflowing. News had continued to come in via the probes from Earth and from the space station, now called by its name; Babylon 5. Just now, Marius was meeting with his senior officers and department heads in the officer's wardroom. Before he could say anything, however, he felt the telltale tickle that signalled Tok'Ra's presence.

"Ok people, let's get down to business. I do believe Tok'Ra has something to say."

"I do Marius. I know that you have been monitoring Earth and the Babylon 5 station for some days now. I know that many of you believe you have been cast into the far future. That is not correct. When your ship entered the wormhole, I directed my energies into a set of projectors mounted along the bow of this ship. These projectors allowed your ship to breach the barriers between dimensions. I do not wish to trifle with your lives, yet I must ask a dangerous favour from you and your ship mates. Before the Ancients evolved, we were exploring this universe that you now find yourselves in. Then we moved from this plane of existence and we chose to forget about our explorations. In doing so we left numerous outposts laden with a number of technologies. Technologies that could help in your coming war. But we left them. And others found them. Now, these others use our technologies to wage war. You must retrieve these technologies and set the balance again in these four universes. Until those four tasks are accomplished, the dimensional projectors will not allow you to return to your home universe.

"You are quite alone out here. There are no Goa'uld. No Nox. No Asgard. You may find friends that can help you in the long term, but you will have to help them first. I will be around, from time to time, to offer my counsel to Marius. My first bit of advice is that you ally yourselves with Babylon 5. There you will find representatives of the two races the Ancients met long ago."

And with that, Tok'Ra ceased his speech and moved to a hover in the background.

"Well, I guess that explains what we thought was time travel."

"Sure seems that way, Major Carter."

"Did you know about this Adam?"

"No I did not. But I suspect Marius did."

"I did. You all may hate me for it. But I knew. I've known for a month now. So here's what we're going to do. You all are going to leave this room and talk to the crews under you. This will be the only time we'll take this as a vote. If your crews decide to honour Tok'Ra and his request, then we'll keep the info about us being from another dimension to ourselves. We'll make up a story to tell any we encounter. Go now, and discuss it amongst yourselves. I'll be in my quarters, awaiting your decision."

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Marius' Living Quarters

"What if they decide against you Marius?"

"Then I will ask you to return them, to return this ship. I will do as you ask. I will take the Dallas and continue this journey."

"You are a most honourable man, Marius."

"Thank you father."

Marius busied himself, preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. He knew it would take time to brief everyone in on this situation. Time he may not have to spare, but it was the right thing to do. The odds were not in his favour. So he concentrated on what supplies he would need to turn the Dallas into a one man operation. And no matter how many times he tried to do just that, all the answers came up against him. Who could he count on to stay with him? No one. Sure, maybe his three bodyguards, but he wouldn't ask that of them. Who else? He honestly could not answer that question.

A span of several hours later, that question was answered for him. Continue the mission. Do what we must. Then get home and ensure the safety of Earth and her allies.

"Admiral's on the bridge!"

"As you were. Mr. Jameson, your report."

"The Mars colony was bombed a few hours ago. Earth is getting very desperate to control its off-world colonies. Forces were dispatched to Proxima and Orion to re-take those 'rebellious' colonies. It looks like they're leaving Babylon 5 for the end as it looks like Babylon 5 has some serious allies."

"Helm, plot a course for Babylon 5. All stations, this is the Admiral. Set condition yellow. That is all."

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Babylon 5
Command and Control Center

Outside the station, the former EA vessels Alexander and Churchill were the only two that made it on time. Any other 'rebellious' EA vessels would be unable to jump to the station in time to help them. Ambassador Delenn had left only an hour previously to try and talk the Grey Council and the rest of the Minbari into helping Babylon 5 stand against those influenced by the Shadows. Captain Sheridan was at his station in C&C while Commander Ivanova had opted to lead the station's Thunderbolt squadrons. Security was at its highest level of alert and all were waiting. The anxious wait before a major battle. Ask any warrior and they'll tell you the wait is worse, far worse, than the fighting itself.

In his quarters, the Vorlon moved to the door. It was an unusual creature. Standing at somewhere between six and seven feet tall, the outer suit belied the power of the creature within. A long flowing robe covered what? No one knew the answer to that particular question. A set of shoulders and a simple pod in between the shoulders that held a single eye. A cyclopean eye. All the more with which to intimidate any one else but another Vorlon or possibly a Shadow. The Vorlon could feel the approach of the Ancient.

Elsewhere, the three Shadow agents felt the same. They chittered loudly to one another. Their human counterpart, Mr. Morden, had never seen them so upset.

"Who comes?"

More squeaks and chitters.

"The Ancient? What do you mean?"

The chitters were angrier now.

"A first one?"

Long and drawn out squeaks and whistles.

"Not a first one? The First Teacher? The First Teacher comes?"

A single chitter.

"That can not be good."

The three Shadows agreed with their human counterpart though they did not give voice to the agreement. Amongst themselves, they were both anxious and overjoyed that the Ancient was returning. Perhaps now, the Vorlons would see just wrong they are.

Of course, the Vorlons on the Vorlon home world did not know that the Ancient had returned. Nor did the Shadows at Z'ha'dum. Only Kosh and the three Shadows knew. The others would know soon enough.

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Command and Control

It was a sight that none in C&C would ever forget. The Vorlon Ambassador gliding into C&C. Captain Sheridan turned as Kosh entered. But before Sheridan could utter a single word, Kosh spoke.

"The Ancient. Comes. Now."

Sheridan could not begin to guess what that meant. In the three seconds that had elapsed since Ambassador Kosh spoke, the jump gate had activated and four EA destroyers came through the opening.

"Babylon 5. You will power down your weapons and stand down. Or we will be forced to take the station by force and you, Captain Sheridan, will stand trial for treason. I'll give you two minutes to think about it."

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AIS Halsey

The strike carrier came out of hyperspace just shy of the station. The ship was immense and the station and the EA destroyers both turned their attention to the incredibly huge vessel.

"Attention all vessels. This is the AIS strike carrier Admiral Halsey. Babylon 5 is under our protection. You will stand down or we will defend the station. You have one minute to comply."

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B5 C&C

"...you have one minute to comply."

"Who the hell is that?" asked Captain Sheridan.

"The Ancient. Is. Here. The. First. Circle. Is complete." Responded Kosh.

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EA vessel Clarkstown

"Target that ship. If it so much as twitches, I want it blown out of my space!"

"Targeting...unable to obtain target lock sir. Must be using some kind of stealth tech. Almost like the Minbari?"

"That looks like no Minbari warship I've ever seen. If it is Minbari, then it's a radical change from the types of ships we normally see from them. Deploy fighter squadrons. Weapons, do the best you can and fire at that monstrosity!"

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AIS Halsey

"Shields are up and at full power sir!"

"Target those destroyers! Fire as they come to bear!"

The first strikes from the Clarkstown impacted on the shield surrounding the Halsey, illuminating the field. The weapons officers aboard the four EA vessels could do nothing but watch as their first missile strikes failed to hit anything at all. The forward laser batteries were firing constantly, but were having no effect at all, other than to illuminate the boundaries of whatever field the ship was using.

"No effect sir! They have some sort of shield protecting them!"

"Weapons officer! Target that vessel with four of our nuclear warheads!"

"Sir! The radiation will kill those on the station!"

"Fuck the station! Fire!"

Four missiles launched out of the Clarkstown at high speed. Aboard the Halsey, the sensors officer raised a shout of alarm.

"Sir! Incoming missiles. Radiological warning! Scanners indicate nuclear yields on those missiles!"

"Weps! Target those incoming missiles and fire Standards!"

"Firing Standards!"

"Comms! Get our fighters away from here, full burn!"

"All fighter wings! The Halsey is under radiological attack! Break now!"

Four missiles came in hot and true. The Standards carried by the Halsey and all currently planned ships of her class were the same Surface to Air missiles carried on surface warships of Earth. Until now, they were untested in space. The first was intercepted a scant thousand meters from the outer force shield of the Halsey. Though Marco had theorized that his shields would withstand a nuclear explosion in close proximity, that theory had never been put to the test. Until now. The missiles used by the EA ships had been equipped with proximity sensors. The impact by the first of the interceptors had caused a premature detonation and the nuclear energies washed against the outer defence shield. A second impact closely followed the first and the combined energies of two five hundred kiloton warheads brought down the first shield.

Unknown for the moment, an ancient power within the planet of Epsilon 3 threw up an instantaneous shield around the Babylon 5 station, blocking the frenzied radiation that spewed forth from the nuclear warhead impacts. The instant the radiation had dissipated to more tolerable levels, the shield faded.

But the Halsey, like all of the other ships in the fleet, from fighters to shuttles to the battlecruisers, had been designed with three layers of shields, each one more powerful than the previous one. The captain on the Clarkstown had seen his first two missiles impact on the shields and seen no apparent damage to the ship, so he ordered another volley of four missiles fired.

The next two missiles of the original volley were absorbed by the second defence field, though the field itself was weakened by more than half. Then two more rockets came in and the second field fell. Now the only thing standing between the personnel aboard the Halsey and certain nuclear death was a last defensive field. And more missiles were incoming. With all the nuclear explosions, communications with the fighter wings was disrupted, but O'Neill, in one of the fighters, saw the defence fields fall and he ordered his nearest wingmen to follow him into the ship firing those nuclear weapons.

Other fighters and bombers around them saw their actions and followed them in. Space was awash in waves of radiation emanating from the explosions on the Halsey, but the pilots who called that ship their home were angry. Angry that they might not have a home to return to. Angry enough to take on the four EA destroyers that were attacking them and the station. Fighters and interceptors swarmed over the four destroyers and their stings, though small, hurt the bigger ships. They cleared the way for the larger bombers to come in and launch their plasma bombs at the destroyers.

O'Neill saw in his peripheral vision one of the battlecruisers as its shields failed spectacularly. Just as more fighters were swarming over it, it made a short jump into hyperspace and emerged on the far side of the station, where two more of its sister ships were there to aid it.

And O'Neill saw more in the next few seconds than he would ever recall later in his life. A wing of bombers rushed at the Clarkstown and laid waste to her engines and weapons, then a final strike and the ship was shorn in two. Other bomber wings, seeing the tactics used by their fellow pilots, imitated them, and shortly, there were eight odd sized pieces of EA destroyers adrift in space. His mind processed only what he saw directly in front of him, and that was the 'enemy' fighter in his sights. It performed stunts and manoeuvres he could not hope to imitate, but he didn't have to. He fired a pair of Venom missiles at the target, and they matched each turn and about face the target made before impacting the target and obliterating it. Behind him, on the Halsey, things were not fairing well.

"Sir! Shields down to eight percent! We can't take another hit like that last one!"

"Engineering! Channel all available power to the shields!"

"Nothing left to re-route!"

"Standards away!" came the shout of a harried weapons officer.

Just seconds before the latest round of missiles impacted the ship, the helmsman saw what the Dallas had done and did the same thing. The wounded battlecruiser had jumped to hyperspace to avoid the fighters pursuing it and so he activated the hyperdrive and jumped them two million kilometres to starboard, causing the missiles to miss them entirely and sail off into space.

"Who ordered that jump!?"

"Sir, I saw the Dallas do the same thing and figured it would work for us."

"Excellent thinking! You just saved our butts!" Mentally, Marius was telling himself that the helmsman deserved at the very least a promotion. But then he looked out at the view screen and saw four more EA destroyers making the jump into the system.

Indeed, four more Earth Alliance destroyers had made the transition from hyperspace into normal space. They had been sent as a sort of back-up force, in the long shot case that the first four destroyers would run into trouble, though the military had doubted that. Now, though, as the captain of one of the ships looked out and saw the other four destroyers, or rather he saw parts of them, he doubted that even his force would be enough to stop Sheridan. Of course, he didn't know about the Halsey.

"Attention Earth Alliance ships. Babylon 5 is under our protection. Vacate this area immediately or we will be forced to destroy you as well."

"Weps, bring the main guns on-line and target those new ships. Target engines and weapons emplacements first."

"Aye sir."

Whatever doubts the bridge crew had had about an Immortal being named Captain of the Halsey, even for the extended space trials, were gone, like a gossamer mist.

Aboard the newly arrived EA destroyer Olympic, the captain thought that an all-out assault was his best option, and the four destroyers turned as one to meet the very large ship to port. Fighters raced out from their mother ships and sped forward to intercept the Halsey. But the Halsey's fighters were already there, meeting them. In a battle that lasted only a few tens of seconds, the Halsey's fighters were victorious and the EA fighters, though more nimble, were no match for their heavier guns. Now, bright beams of plasma energies lanced out from the Halsey and struck true on the weapons emplacements of the new destroyers. These were followed by large naquadah encased rounds from the rail guns and a single conventional Shipwreck targeted at each destroyer. They had been de-clawed in a decisive strike. The ranking Earth Force Captain gave the order, though it pained him to do so. Retreat. And while the ships were turning about preparing to enter hyperspace, everyone of their scanning beams was raking over the Halsey, taking in reams of data on the fighting capabilities of this ship. A moment later, they had safely entered hyperspace.

And just as the crews on the Halsey and aboard Babylon 5 were about to take a breath, four more jump points opened, spewing forth four Minbari Ships of the Line and a single WhiteStar. On board the WhiteStar, Delenn and the crew around her looked out onto the field of battle and saw nothing but destruction. They also saw a very large ship, nearly three-fifths the size of the station, waiting there, as if ready to pounce.

"Attention unidentified ship. I am Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari Federation. Stand down or we will be forced to fire on you."

"Ambassador, it is you who must stand down. Your ships are targeted and locked into our systems. We will fire and destroy you if you so much as breathe too loudly."

Delenn looked to one side and confirmed that this new ship had them targeted and no matter what they tried, they could not break the targeting lock.

In C&C, Sheridan looked out at the two sides and realized they meant to fire on one another.

"Delenn, Halsey. Stop! We're all on the same side!"

It was a desperate plea, shouted out by a man who had seen more deaths in the previous thirty minutes than he had seen during the entire Earth-Minbari war.

"Halsey. Standing down."

----------------------------------------

"Captain Sheridan, are you sure of their intentions?"

"No Delenn, I'm not. But they did just save us all. I'll keep an open mind about it for now."

"As will I."

----------------------------------------

"Halsey to Station. We have a lot of pilots down and we're sure you do as well. We are launching Search and Rescue now."

Marius turned to one side and gave the order for the SAR squadrons to launch and pick up their pilots and any other pilots they happened to find. The medical deck was prepped to received an influx of wounded. Dr. Scully was expecting the worst to come through the doors of the med bays and so she made sure that all would be treated accordingly. The dozen sarcophagi they had on board, a gift from Lord Yu, were standing by to revive the newly dead and heal the most critical of cases. Asgard stasis pods were also standing by to stabilize those who could not immediately go into a sarcophagus. Elsewhere, five Tok'ra, who had volunteered to serve on this ship, were opening up their medical bags and withdrawing the Healing Devices. Though they would be unable to heal a fatal wound or even bring back the dead, they could stabilize those with serious wounds until more proper medical facilities could be gotten to.

The hangar decks were awash with craft that were coming in from the fighting. Some were damaged beyond repair and as such they would be cannibalized for whatever spare parts they would yield. Others needed only minor repairs to be made flyable again. Though the vast majority of the squadrons had taken part in the fighting, a few had been left in reserve. Now, these reserve squadrons were launching and were flying cover for the SAR squadrons whose job it was to find and pick up the escape pods of dozens of fighters from the Halsey, and the suited pilots of the destroyed Starfury and Thunderbolt fighters. Shuttles were also launching to pick up the survivors in the ripped apart EA destroyers.

Four of the battlecruisers were nudging the larger parts of the EA destroyers into a temporary holding area where it was thought by some of the engineers aboard the Halsey, that they could be repaired and pressed into service. The Dallas had been damaged in one of the nuclear explosions and had to be towed back to its docking port on the Halsey by the Kiev and the Ryan.

It was several hours before all of the escape pods had been located and the wounded treated. In one of the storage rooms aboard the Halsey, some five hundred Earth Alliance personnel were awaiting their fate. Many had been near death, only to be fully healed a short time after they were picked up. Their weapons had been stripped away from them, sure, but they were alive. It felt truly good to be alive just then.

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Babylon 5
Command and Control

"AIS Halsey calling Babylon 5. We have a number of EA prisoners aboard. Frankly we're not sure where their loyalties lie. We'd like to hand them over to you and we'd like to meet you, if at all possible."

"Halsey. I am Captain John Sheridan of Babylon 5. You have clearance to land."

From the Halsey, a single Bulldog-class attack Tel'tac emerged followed closely by a squadron of Mustang class fighters. These in turn were followed by a dozen standard Tel'tacs carrying the rescued EA personnel. The fighters peeled out of formation with the Bulldog and took up patrol routes that would lead them around the station and around the Halsey. The attack shuttle had been a very late addition to the Halsey and so there were only six of them aboard. From the outside, they looked like the standard Tel'tac, but that's where the resemblance stopped. Within the Bulldog was a crew compartment for thirty fast reaction troopers and their equipment, while on the exterior there were four large rail guns, with retractable missile launchers underneath. On this particular Bulldog, O'Neill and Teal'c were at the controls, with Carter and Methos at the single weapons station, and the sensors stations, respectively. Dr. Jackson had joined the First Contact team and was standing alongside Fox Mulder. All were armed with zat guns. Marius had brought his three bodyguards along and while they carried zat guns, they also carried the new staff weapons that Hamza had crafted for them prior to their departure. The staffs each encased a single long blade of a trinium-titanium alloy that could slice through a wall made of diamond, albeit very thin diamond, like a hot knife through butter. But to anyone looking, the staffs were just that, walking sticks. A last minute addition to the First Contact team had been D'Fir, one of the Tok'ra medics, on the chance that there would be wounded aboard the station.

The Bulldog made its approach and the pilots aboard followed the landing cues generated by the automated docking systems of Babylon 5 to a soft touch down not twelve feet away from a group of individuals. Landing struts deployed and the ship was down. Then a large hatch irised open on the side of the Bulldog and its occupants began coming out.

"Greetings. I am Fleet Admiral Marco Ramos of the Alliance of Independent Systems. With me here for this first contact occasion is Major Fox Mulder, our resident Ambassador. Dr. Daniel Jackson, his assistant and mission specialist."

Before Marco could complete his introductions, the Vorlon approached.

"To my left is...and what the hell are you?"

"Child of the Ancient. I am honoured in your presence."

"Whoa. Hold on a second there. I'm not that old!"

Sheridan mumbled under his breath to Ivanova that the words spoken by Kosh were by far the most clear thing he'd ever heard a Vorlon say.

"Well, that just took the wind out of my introductions. But somehow, I don't think I am who you think I am."

"Are you a First One?"

"A first one what? What do you mean? Uhm, who's on first?"

"Sorry. It's rare to hear more than a few words from a Vorlon. I'm Captain John Sheridan. This is Michael Garibaldi, Chief of Station Security. Lt. Commander Susan Ivanova, my second in command. Dr. Stephen Franklin, Chief Medical Officer. Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari Federation. And I believe you've already met Ambassador Kosh of the Vorlon Empire."

"Hello. Uhm, after that little bit with Kosh I'd rather hoped that not all of you would be the same. But first things first. Where should we direct the other shuttles to land? The ones with the EA personnel we rescued?"

"Susan, get C&C to handle that."

"Yes Captain."

"I'm afraid that you will have to surrender your weapons."

"Of course. But they only stun. And they are for our protection."

"Sorry. Station policy."

"Very well then. People, leave the Zats on the Bulldog. Captain Sheridan, may my three assistants and I carry our walking staffs? They are more an insignia of rank than actual weapons. Besides, I'm fairly certain that any weapons you have would severely negate the effectiveness of a walking staff."

"That will be permitted."

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Elsewhere on the Station

Excited chitters and squeals.

"He's here?"

A single squeak.

"I must make plans to meet with the Ancient. He must be made to see that it is our forces that are in the right here, not the damned Vorlons."

A lot more chitters, more excited than before. "Children of the Ancient? Is that good or bad?"

A non-committal squeak.

"Well, hell. If you don't know, then I guess I'm supposed to find out, right?"

There was no answering chitter or squeak.

A beeping screen caught his attention and he called it to open.

"Citizen G'Kar, the news of the Earth Alliance defeat has already reached us. Do whatever is necessary to obtain a sample of the technologies used by the new ship."

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Another beeping screen elsewhere on the station.

"Ambassador Mollari! If the news of the Earth Alliance defeat is true, then we simply must have these new weapons! You will do everything possible to achieve that goal!"

Within the Vorlon ship, a single message was beamed out across the stars to the Vorlon home world. It simply said, 'The First Teacher, the Ancient has returned.'

The three Shadows joined as one and sent their own message. 'The Ancient is here. The First Teacher has returned to us. Now.'

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Conference Room
Babylon 5
Journey Day 6

Two sets of humans walked in to a large conference room, and took seats at the table. Kyra and Reagan, two of Marius' guards took up station outside the door to the conference room, while Alison followed them in. When all were seated, she stood along the wall behind Marius. And when all were seated, it was Marius who spoke first.

"Before we begin Captain, I am noticing that Mr. Garibaldi is looking rather piqued? Your injuries must pain you. My medic can attend to your injuries. I assure you that she will cause you no pain."

Dr. Franklin stepped forward to observe the medic and the healing device. He gave it a cursory scan, but could not read anything useful with his scanner. He gave the go ahead to allow the medic to treat Garibaldi.

D'Fir had been with the Tok'ra for a number of centuries, having been one of the last 'children' born to Egeria. Her current host was Tarissa, a female from Argos. Though the Tok'ra had no use for the medical sciences per se, there was a desperate need for medical researchers. As D'Fir/Tarissa was the closest thing to a medical person, and with the Tok'ra Council all too aware of Anise's problems with the Tau'ri, she had been chosen for this mission.

With the Healing Device in hand, D'Fir eyes began to glow as she took control from Tarissa. With some concentrated effort, the pain in Garibaldi's arm and leg dissipated and he rather quickly began flexing his arm and walking normally.

"Mr. Garibaldi. Your arm and leg have both been healed. But do try not to tax them much over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I and my host thank you for this opportunity to demonstrate our good will towards your people."

"You and your host? Admiral Ramos, what did she mean by that?"

"Captain. Medic D'Fir is of a race known as the Tok'ra. They are a blended race and they 'timeshare' their bodies. D'Fir is the symbiote half, Tarissa is the human half. This is but one of the many things you will learn about us. Though we had no intention of becoming involved in whatever troubles you have with the present Earth Government, we fear we are already inextricably involved. We were sent here to retrieve certain technologies left by our Ancient parents. Technologies, that most certainly are being used by the Vorlons and the race you call Shadows. A million years ago, those whom the Vorlon called the Ancients came to your part of the galaxy and established an outpost world from which they launched numerous scientific expeditions to study the local sentient life. Over the course of centuries, perhaps millennia, the outpost world was abandoned and forgotten and the technologies therein left for the two most promising races at the time. It was hoped that the automated defences of the outpost world would be sufficient to ward off all.

"I have been told by an Ancient that the Vorlons and the Shadows are in possession of these technologies, that they have tragically misused them for their own twisted views of sentient life exploration. That they have manipulated the younger races in order to form stronger armies, so that they may battle by proxy. Do not deny this, Vorlon."

"We do not deny this. What was done was necessary."

"Necessary in whose eyes, Vorlon?"

"Necessary for this universe."

"A valid point, Vorlon. You see Captain, while we are genetically similar, you and I, we are not identical. Our vessel and the people aboard her, we come from Earth. Though it is perhaps an Earth that you would not expect. The Ancients came to this universe via a dimensional portal of their own creation. Tampering with the various dimensions is not recommended, even with the best of intentions. The reason they came here, was to seek out life similar enough to their own. They found, instead, the Vorlons and the Shadows, to which the Ancients became the First Teachers."

"An alternate universe Admiral Ramos? I find that hard to believe."

"It is true Captain. The universe from which we came, the Earth from which we came, well, there is no easy way to put this. The year we left on our journey, two weeks ago, was two thousand and three. The very early years of the twenty-first century. Pray tell, could your Earth of the same time have built a ship such as the Halsey?"

"No." there was a hint of defeat in Sheridan's voice.

"Now Captain. The Vorlon has called me the Ancient, but I am not. I am a child of the Ancients, but I am not old enough to be an Ancient. There is, however, an Ancient among us. Tok'Ra?"

Those who belonged to the universe of Babylon 5 had seen many strange types of aliens in their travels, but nothing in their collective experiences prepared them for the first sight of the Ancient. A golden glowing cloud of gas with sparkly particles flying in chaotic and eccentric orbits throughout the body of the cloud.

From the Vorlon, they saw what they did not expect to ever see, an Encounter Suit opening before them. The blue energy being within flew out of the suit to flit about the edge of the golden cloud. The blue cloud tried to merge with the golden cloud and was rebuffed and expelled violently to the far side of the room. Then the blue cloud withdrew and re-entered the Suit. The Vorlon spoke.

"Have I displeased you, Ancient One?"

"No my child, you have not. But you are not yet old enough to merge with me fully. To do so now would mean your complete annihilation. That is not something I wish."

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Vorlon Home World

The message had been received by the Vorlon Ruling Council. The Ancient had returned. And it had gone to the human place called Babylon 5, as was foretold millennia past. The orders went quickly through the fleet. And very shortly after the message was acknowledged, the largest ever assembled Vorlon fleet entered hyperspace. Their destination? Babylon 5

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Z'ha'dum

The excited chitters and squeals could be heard throughout the numerous Shadow cities of Z'ha'dum. The Ancient One, the first teacher, had returned to their universe. By the time the Shadow Triad on Babylon 5 received an acknowledgement of their message, a very large Shadow fleet had phased into hyperspace. Their destination the same as the Vorlons. Babylon 5.

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Babylon 5
Journey Day 7

The initial meet and greet had gone well. Marius was now in temporary quarters in the Green section of Babylon 5; that area reserved for Ambassadors and VIPs. Major Mulder, acting as Ambassador, and Dr. Jackson, were both ensconced in meetings with some of the staff of Babylon 5.

Alison, one of the bodyguards assigned to Marius, was in the room with him, while Reagan and Kyra were standing just outside the door to their combined quarters. Alison was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, considering that Tok'Ra was in the room, speaking with Marius.

"My child. You must be very cautious in the days to come. I fear the Vorlons and the Shadows will both try to influence you to their cause. I have slightly altered your Quickening to allow you to perceive the Shadows, as they can shift their bodies out of phase with everything around you. You may or may not be able to see them directly, in their full form, unless you stare at one for some time, but you will be able to sense their presence, and you will be able to target them should that become necessary. I have granted you the ability to understand their speech directly, though it may be of some benefit to allow their human avatar the illusion that he is speaking for them."

"Father, I will do the right thing. I must."

"Do not be troubled, child. There are potential allies here for the fight at home, but you must seek and judge that on your own. My only concern here is that the more devastating technologies be removed from this universe. Anything beyond that, is entirely up to you."

"You're a lot of help."

"I can not be with you always. Some mistakes you must make on your own. I think I will go for now. There is someone I would like to see."

Tok'Ra vanished into the ether. Not vanished really, merely faded from sight. Where he was going or who he wanted to see in this universe were unknown to him. He paid little attention, when his guards shifted their stations, allowing Alison and Reagan to stand the watch outside, whilst Kyra came in for a quick bite to eat.

Marius took the time, at last, to study the weapons that Hamza ibn Mohammed al Katib had wrought for him and his guards. It was a finely crafted staff of Lebanese cedar, with various verses from the Koran and the Christian Bible carved into the wood. He knew not where the one phrase came from, whether the Koran or the Bible, but he saw the truth in it. 'In strength, there is peace. In peace, there is unity. In Unity, there is strength.' A bit of a circular argument, but sound nonetheless. Of course, the outside was merely a façade for the inner weapon. The wooden staff housed a fine double edged blade, a full forty inches in length, made of an alloy of trinium and titanium. The handle of the sword was the top half of the staff, and had been wrapped in leather, so as to make for an easier grab of the weapon. The handle was of the blade was hollow, having a removable cap, not unlike the popular survival knives in various movies. But instead of the usual survival gear, the handle had several short lengths of detonating cord, which could be used to cut one's way out of a cell. There were two pairs of colour-coded and quite small plastic-coated wooden capsules that must have been a bitch to carve, that contained a binary fire starting agent, for when one was stuck in the field with no matches.

The staff itself was close to six feet in length. But the blade did not account for all of the interior space. Near the bottom of the staff, was a trio of hidden compartments, that could be opened only by twisting the bottom 'dial' into the correct combination. One compartment contained the usual survival gear that would be found in any survival type of knife. Another compartment had lock picking tools. The last compartment held a tube made of refined trinium, approximately six inches in length and half an inch in diameter. It was a pen-gun. Single shot only, with ten additional rounds in the compartment, in the fifty calibre Action Express variety. The rounds themselves were modified hollow points, that had been filled in with curare and sealed with a thin layer of lead. All in all, Hamza had done a fine job indeed. But before Marius could pull the blade and meditate upon it, there was a chime at the door, shortly followed by Reagan's announcement that a Mr. Morden wished to speak with him. Marius bade him enter and asked Kyra to step outside for the moment.

"Mr. Morden is it? How may I help you?"

"It is I who can help you, Child of the Ancients."

"I really wish people would stop calling me that. Speak plainly Mr. Morden. Call me Marco."

In the background, Marius could see the three Shadow creatures, or at least get a vague impression of them. He concentrated on Morden, but was looking slightly behind him, trying to get a better look at the Shadow. Two of the creatures were beside and slightly behind Morden, while the third was circling his quarters and examining his things.

"Very well. Marco. I am told that you are a descendant of a race called the Ancients. That they were the teachers to the Shadows and to the Vorlons. That they went beyond the rim untold millennia ago."

"Went beyond the rim? I'm not sure what that means. But I think what you are trying to say is that they evolved?"

"That would be one way of saying it, yes."

"Then yes. What you have been told is correct. The Ancients came to this galaxy, long ago seeking out life not unlike their own. They found the Shadows and the Vorlons and sought to enlighten them. To raise them up as they would eventually do to their children, to us. Your Shadows and the Vorlons were an experiment, you might say. To mold and shape those two races so that one day, in the fullness of time, those two races might mold and shape those races younger than they. It is my understanding, that these two elder races took it upon themselves to mold and shape the universe according to two different philosophies?"

"Different perhaps, but with the same goal in mind."

"Expansion through conquest and scientific advancement versus introspection and spiritual growth. Order versus chaos. Forceful conquest versus peaceful expansion. The philosophies are quite diverse, but your goal is the same, advancement. A philosopher from my area of the galaxy calls it survival of the fittest. I wonder, do the younger races here realize just how much you are controlling them? Trying to shape them into what you deem the correct heir for your goals?"

"When the time is right, they will know."

"But not before. What the Ancients attempted with your two races, they accomplished with mine. In my own galaxy, the Ancients sired us, or created us, depending on which is more palatable to one's tastes. They took the knowledge of what they had attempted here and cast that into us. Along with a few other abilities. In the fullness of time, I too, may evolve into a being that you would term an Ancient. But I am not nearly old enough for that. In a few hundred thousand years perhaps I will be ready."

This last was directed not at Morden, but at the Shadow next to him.

"Mr. Morden, if you would be so kind, one of your companions' is tickling my neck and it is not a feeling I enjoy. Yes. Do not seem so shocked, sir. I am, as you said, a Child of the Ancient. Did you not think I could sense your companions?"

"Their appearance does not bother you? I have known their appearance to be frightful to most of the other races on the station."

"Their appearance does not bother me. In my own galaxy there are far more sinister looking aliens. But that is a tale for another time. But I would imagine the appearance issue to be some sort of indoctrination handed down over the course of generations, no? But that is not the reason I am here."

This time, it was one of the Shadow Triad that spoke to Marius, not Morden. And all he heard was a series of long winded chitters, squeaks, and something resembling a high pitched whistle.

"I am here to reclaim certain technologies that both you and the Vorlons have seen fit to take from the outpost world we left behind. Two were taken by the Shadows. Three by the Vorlons. And I would guess that had you arrived prior to the Vorlons, you would have taken what they thought more important. The two devices you took, though you have turned them into machines of war, were designed to terraform worlds, not destroy them. You took a ship designed to terraform ice worlds into tropical worlds and turned it into a devastator of worlds. You took a nanocytic entity that the Ancients used to transform worlds with toxic environments to human compatible ones, and turned it into a plague dispersing agent that can wipe an entire sentient race from a planet. Such were not the intent of the original creations. You have manipulated those tools to your own devices and now, the entire galaxy may suffer for your arrogance.

"Go now, Shadow Triad, and think on what you have done. Before the day is out, I am certain I will have a private chat with Kosh, and he will learn the same from me. Think on what you have learned here this day. And think on what you will do in the future."

Marius hoped with all his being that he had done the right thing; taken the right stance with the Shadows. It seemed an instinct to be slightly aggressive with them, but he was unsure as to the outcome. Only time would tell if he had done the right thing. But he had no time to ponder the potential outcomes of his diatribe with the Shadows, for no sooner had they left, than the Vorlon came to him. The one thing he could say about this particular meeting, was that Kosh was accompanied by a rather gorgeous female. Alien or not, Kosh had very good taste.

"Ambassador Kosh. Greetings. And who is your lovely companion?"

"She is of no import to these proceedings. She is here merely to ascertain your truthfulness."

"If she's a truth serum, then I definitely want to lie. What is your name, Miss?"

"Lyta Alexander. Commercial telepath, rating P5."

"I have no idea what your rating means, Ms. Alexander. My part of the universe doesn't know much about telepathy."

Lyta found that statement to be odd, considering that Kosh had professed to her the fact that this man was a child of an Ancient. Kosh had shown her through the Learning, the Vorlons history with the Ancients. Immortality certainly held a modest attraction for her. She attempted a surface scan and was rebuffed. It was unlike any other telepathic block she had ever experienced. Almost as if his mind were surrounded by the same type of light she experienced through the Learning. Now she put those Vorlon enhanced telepathic powers to the test, but still she could not penetrate through to his mind. Such was the power of an Immortal mind.

"Ms. Alexander, if you're quite through in your attempts to scan me, we shall proceed."

She was in shock! Only another telepath could have felt her subtle surface scans, and only another trained like she was, enhanced by the Vorlons, could have detected her enhanced scan! But he had detected it all the same and had repelled her every attempt to penetrate his shields.

"Now then, Kosh. I must say, offhand, dealing with you will be a tad easier. I tend to like to put a name to the person with whom I am speaking. I certainly can not pronounce any name the Shadow Triad attempted to give me. My tongue and vocal cords do not work that way."

"The Shadows have come to see you?"

"Indeed they have. We had a rather involved conversation not more than twenty minutes ago regarding philosophy. Particularly yours and theirs and how you both tend to take advantage of the younger races in this part of the universe. You ask a question to all whom you encounter and it makes those whom you ask look inward to seek the answer. While that may be well and good, no civilization advances for long without expansion by conquest. You firmly believe that your philosophy is the right one for the younger races, yes? And the Shadows believe that theirs is also the right one. Now, all things being equal, both of you can't be right. But both of you can be wrong. But that is a discussion for another time. The reason we are here, is to retrieve technologies that you thought to take from their outpost world. Had the Shadows arrived prior to you, they would have seen what you saw; one of the Ancients using a dimensional portal.

"You chose to take that portal, though they anticipated that you would find the device and shut it down. And thus while the portal was non-operational, you willfully chose to examine it, to study it. I daresay, that it took my 'parents', the Ancients, a few millennia to perfect the device. Tell me you did not build such a device, or attempt to build such a device?"

"One mistake. Among so many mistakes. Set adrift in hyperspace. Our attempt to follow you failed. We nearly set loose upon this galaxy a plague the likes of which it would not have survived. We were very nearly destroyed by that which we very nearly released. We have never again sought to pursue any research along those matters."

"Yes, but then you did as the Shadows did, and took from them and perverted, those technologies that they had created to transform and terraform worlds for human inhabitation. You took those technologies and perverted them into weapons of war. Now I daresay, you attack any race that has been tainted by the Shadows, just as they attack any race that has been influenced by Vorlon wills. When will it end, Kosh? When will it end? No need to answer that, Kosh, as it was a rhetorical question."

"The Vorlon High Council will soon arrive."

"As will the Shadow High Council. And when they do, your kind must not initiate hostilities against them. To do so would jeopardize all that has been set in motion."

"We will not initiate hostilities."

"Very well, Kosh. I have given you much to think on, and both you and the Shadow Triad have given me much to contemplate. We will talk again soon, you and I. And the Ancients will be there as well."

"Admiral Ramos, a question if I may?"

"Of course, Ms. Alexander."

"How are you able to block my scans?"

"Perhaps you should ask me something simpler, like why do humans breathe oxygen instead of carbon dioxide? Or why are our bodies carbon based and not silicon based? But to answer your question, I do not know. Perhaps it is a function of my Quickening, one that none of my kind have yet discovered because telepaths have not come into existence in my galaxy. Who knows. What I do know is that you can not scan me, and I believe you would be unable to scan any other Child of the Ancients or the Ancients themselves either."

"You look human enough to me. How is it that you are a Child of the Ancients?"

"In this place, the Vorlons manipulated the genetic material of hundreds of races to create you, did they not? They wanted to create telepaths to use as weapons against their mortal enemies? Well, long ago, the Ancients created us for a similar purpose. To act as guardians and guides for the younger races. But we faltered along the way; we became involved in a deadly game of conquest with only one winner as the eventual goal. It was said that the winner of the Game would have dominion over all humanity and that could either have been very bad or very good, depending on the winner. An eternity of damnation or an eternity of paradise.

"But our Father-Creator has shown us the error of our ways and we have once again taken up the mantle for which we were created. In this place, the Vorlons created telepaths. In our place, the Ancients created Immortals. That is to say, we who were created, can not die."

"Immortal guides and guardians? I see the wisdom of that decision. Who better to help mortal man from repeating the mistakes of the past but someone who's lived that past and who remembers the consequences of those previous errors.. The Ancients were wise, indeed."

"No, Ms. Alexander. And yes. Their goals may be altruistic now, but at the time of creation, they wanted something baser, more primitive. They wanted children. Simple, isn't it?"

Marius realized at that moment that somewhere during his conversation with Lyta Alexander, Kosh had slipped out of the room and that his three guards were now listening in rapt attention to his commentary.

"So much of what you have said makes more sense now, Mr. President. The Council was indeed wise in choosing you to lead us. The Immortal community was most fortunate indeed that you were selected in the lottery."

"I have asked you repeatedly not to call me that. It's been quite a long time since I have had anything at all to do with politics. Though my own experience makes modern politicians appear to be children playing a game, I really had no desire to repeat it, Reagan."

"So the Chronicles were true in that respect? You were a Senator in Rome?"

"More than a mere Senator, my dear Kyra. I was Pro Consul. Gaius Marius. But that was long ago, and I have no desire to relive those days."

"You were alive during the days of the Roman Empire? Just how old are you?"

"Our history, Ms. Alexander, is apparently similar to yours. According to your calendar and ours, the term AD refers to the date of the Death of Christ. Using that mark, I was born approximately six centuries earlier."

"To have seen so much history! I can not begin to imagine all that you have seen!"

"Immortality is both a blessing and a curse, Ms. Alexander. I wish it on no one."

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A few hours later, Marius and Alison were strolling through the Zocalo, examining the booths of various merchants and the wide array of wares available therein. His two other guards were there as well, mixed in with the crowd, at a discreet distance. As Marius looked up from examining some trivial artifact, he was startled to notice a rather large reptilian alien patiently examining him.

"Yes?"

"Forgive my intrusion, Admiral Ramos. I am Citizen G'Kar of the Narn."

"Ah yes. The Narn Regime. I have read some rather interesting historical reports on your people, Citizen G'Kar. I saw many instances where your conflict with the Centauri reminded me of certain conflicts in Earth history. Of course, I could also draw many inferences between the Centauri and a civilization in my past, but that would be unfair to either of those two. But obviously you do not wish to discuss history with me, so how might I be of service, Citizen G'Kar?"

"I bear a formal request from my government. The Narn Regime wishes to enter formal negotiations for some of your technology, in particular, your shield technology."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. To grant you that tech, would be to upset the balance of power in this galaxy. It would give you an unfair advantage. Even with the best of intentions, it would not be right."

"I assure you Admiral, that the Narn could make a very lucrative offer."

"Perhaps. I shall have to discuss this with my government first. We will be in touch with you. That is all I can promise at this time."

"That is all we ask."

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Elsewhere

"Lorien."

"Who is it that calls my name?"

"It is I, Tok'Ra."

"He who is against Ra. It has been a long time my friend."

"What is the passage of time to us who are outside its influence, Lorien?"

"You have passed Beyond?"

"Not exactly. I have moved on to a non-corporeal form, true, but I have not yet joined our brothers. There is still much to do, Lorien."

"The Goa'uld?"

"We were betrayed. The Alliance has fallen apart. Only the Asgard still honour their promise to us."

"Betrayed?"

"My wife. She chose to blend with a Goa'uld symbiote. I thought it was of a like mind to my own. But it was not. She waited until my forces were ready to strike, then she launched an attack of her own and destroyed those forces. The Alliance tried to stem the tide of the Goa'uld expansion, and they have succeeded in some small degree, but not by much."

"I'm sorry."

"You could not have known. You chose to remain here. As I chose to remain there. While the others have left."

"But you have returned to this universe through the doorway?"

"Yes."

"I thought I felt a tremor in the continuum."

"Such as I hoped you would."

"But you did not come alone, did you?"

"No. Centuries after we left, we began an experiment. I stayed to oversee the fruits of that research."

"What experiments?"

"We learned nothing from the Progenitors. In the same way they played God by creating us and others like us in the multi-verse, we played God in our universe. We created life. Immortal life."

"Oh Tok'Ra. Tell me that your experiments were more fruitful than my own."

"They were, for a time. But like all good research, there were bad spots along the way. An influence outside the parameters of the experiment intervened. The results were centuries of combat between our various experiments. When things came to a head, I chose to intervene, to set them on their original path once again."

"What made you decide to intervene?"

"Ten thousand years ago, the Goa'uld came to our home world. They enslaved the native primitives."

"They dared enslave our Chosen race!?"

"They dared. But our own forces helped primitive man. And primitive man cast the Goa'uld off the planet and sealed the Gateway. Ten thousand years later, the Stargate was reopened. And man began exploring his universe once again. They found it to be a place teeming with life not unlike their own. The opening of the Gate anew, brought my attention back to Earth. The inclusion of my son into that project, led to my intervention in the experiment."

"Your son? I did not know you had a son."

"He was the first to be created through our experiments. I took him as my son, and raised him as such. He was killed and buried under several tons of rock, when his mother, my wife, betrayed me. Buried for five thousand years before an earthquake unearthed him. He was quite insane at the time. It took another thousand years or so for him to regain some semblance of sanity. I can not begin to imagine how it must have been for him, beneath all that rock."

"That would not be a fate I would wish on anyone."

"True. Tell me Lorien, why did you choose to remain behind all those millennia ago?"

"I found it necessary. These younger races, they needed a guiding hand."

"Yes and now those younger races are attempting to guide even younger races. And doing a poor job of it."

"Yes. It was a simple difference in philosophy. Order versus chaos. I brought that up once, long ago, to them. I do believe they've taken this whole argument a bit far however."

"I'll say. Out of curiosity, did you have anything to do with that monstrous machine beneath the surface of Epsilon Three?"

"Perhaps a little. The race that created that machine; I meant for them to be a counter-balance to the Vorlons and the Shadows. Never interfering directly, mind you, but nudging certain events along. The Machine is multi-dimensional and multi-temporal. It exists to regulate the flow of time. It can manipulate time. It is what the Vorlon Kosh used to contact you."

"That's a dangerous thing, Lorien."

"True. But it was necessary. And it will be necessary again. Fortunately, the race that created the Machine passed beyond long ago. The Machine is in the hands of a Minbari, I believe."

"I won't even ask how that happened."

"Will you be travelling with the Shadows to Babylon 5?"

"No. My time to leave has not arrived as yet. But soon. I am waiting for the One."

"Must be someone special, to make you want to wait all these years?"

"He is. He is the One that will return balance to the universe."

"I think I know who you mean. There is a strength about him that reminds me of Cal'ad."

"He passed beyond?"

"Yes. He evolved into one like me. A hundred thousand years past. He was probably the greatest of our kind."

"He was. Cal'ad sacrificed much for our kind."

"Without his sacrifices, the Alliance would never have been. All that we are and were and will be, would be impossible were it not for Cal'ad. If anyone was truly deserving of evolution, it was Cal'ad; the first Ancient. Son of the Progenitors, and father to us all."

"The One who comes. He will sacrifice everything for his cause. And though many can lay claim to that, it will be especially true of him. And so I must await his arrival."

----------------------------------------

A few days passed, and life returned to some remote semblance of order. Marius had returned to the Halsey to tackle the ever-increasing mound of paperwork on his desk. He had been in his office for a few hours when the intercom rang.

"Yes?"

"Sir. Captain Sheridan is on the comm."

"Patch it through."

"Admiral Ramos?"

"Captain Sheridan. How might I be of assistance?"

"I wondered, sir, if the invitation to tour the Halsey is still open? I find myself with some spare time at the moment."

"Of course, Captain. Will it be just you for the tour?"

"No. I'd like to bring along Commander Ivanova, Dr. Franklin, and Chief Garibaldi."

"I see. Would it be asking too much Captain, if you could invite four others?"

"Which four did you have in mind?"

"Ambassador Delenn. Ambassador Mollari. Citizen G'Kar. And a representative from the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. If this is agreeable to you, then shall we say an hour from now?"

"I shall contact the others and see if they are available. But the rest of us will be over in an hour."

"Very well, Captain. I look forward to seeing you."

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"Phillipson."

"Alex. Assemble your squad. Meet me on the hangar deck in forty-five minutes. We have some dignitaries coming over from the station and I want each of them assigned a guard."

"We'll be there."

Marius left his office and the paperwork behind to find Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill. He wanted them to be present when the station dignitaries came aboard. He was planning to ask Sheridan for a limited technology exchange. Carter had expressed an interest in obtaining the designs for the station and for the fusion reactors that powered the station while Jack had expressed interest in their fighters. But they also wanted the jump gate technology. The jump gates were similar in concept to the combat gates the Ancients had built so long ago, but instead of a controlled wormhole, these jump gates opened a portal into hyperspace. What limited scans and information they had pointed to the fact that hyperspace travel in this universe was slower, dramatically slower than wormhole travel. But the combat gates used a massive amount of naquadah in their construction and so new combat gate construction was barely possible with their existing stocks of the material. Perhaps a combination of the two technologies would enable them to link the wide areas of their home universe in a less expensive fashion.

If the combination of technologies could be done, then the rapid expansion of Earth's influence could be accomplished much easier. There again, this universe had other techs that they wanted. Techs that could be used to fight the Goa'uld and their Cylon allies. Perhaps the Vorlons and the Shadows could be convinced to a technology exchange? Marius doubted the feasibility of such an endeavour, but vowed to ask Tok'Ra for his guidance on that particular problem. Certainly the organic armour technology used by both the Vorlons and the Shadows could come in handy in their home universe. But the cloaking tech used by the Shadows was far in advance of anything the Goa'uld might have used. And for this reason, it could be beneficial to make a deal with a Devil. But he had a feeling that they would ask for the shielding tech in return, and that tech alone, would upset the balance of power in this universe.

----------------------------------------

An hour later, Marius found himself on the hangar deck with Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill at his side. Phillipson's honour guard stood by at attention, while the VIP's from the station came aboard.

"Honour guard! A-Ten-Shun!"

"Greetings Captain Sheridan. On behalf of myself and my crew, I bid you welcome to the AIS Admiral Halsey."

"Thank you for allowing us this visit, Admiral Ramos."

"The pleasure is ours, Captain Sheridan. If you would come with me, we'll get this tour underway."

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Earth Dome
Office of President Morgan Clark
Journey Day 16

In truth, he did not believe that one ship could have destroyed four of his top destroyers. No matter what allies that bastard Sheridan had found himself, he could not stand up to the might of Earth Force and their new found Shadow allies. Which was the point of this meeting he had in a few minutes, with their Ambassador. The President had long ago been briefed in on the fact that the man known only as Justin and the other crew members of the ill-fated Icarus expedition had been declared dead. The fact that the same man listed in IPX records as dead now stood in his office was a matter left to the imaginations of others.

"Justin, you have heard of our little setback at Babylon 5?"

"I have Mr. President."

"Do your forces have any information they may be willing to share on this new ally of Sheridan?"

"Not at this time, sir."

"So you do have information? But you are unwilling to share it with an ally?"

"Yes. We do have information on the ship that came to Sheridan's aid. Whether that ship is an ally to Sheridan remains to be seen. And what little information we possess will not be shared at this time. Our scientists are still examining the information."

"You are refusing a request from Earth?"

"I'm afraid that at this time we must. I will say, however, that at the present time, there is a sizeable fleet bound for Babylon 5 space. A sizeable Shadow fleet."

"Are their intentions to destroy or capture the ship?"

"Neither. If that is all, sir?"

"Go."

Justin left, but he left Clark with more questions than answers. Answers that he needed desperately.

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Centauri Prime
Throne Room

"Ah Mr. Morden. So good of you to come and visit with us."

"It is always a pleasure Emperor Cartagia, to visit a world such as yours. May I ask why I was summoned?"

"We are curious as to the nature of this one little ship that has caused the Earthers so much trouble at their station. Is it true that one ship destroyed eight of their Ships of the Line?"

"No, I do believe that was an exaggeration. The truth is that only four ships were destroyed, whilst the remaining four retreated."

"We thought as much. But do tell us about this shielding technology they possess. Is it true that they stopped a nuclear attack on their ship?"

"Yes. That much has been confirmed. The shields of that ship withstood ten direct impacts of weapons in the five megaton range."

"Marvellous! The Centauri simply must have that shielding technology! Do you think they would be amenable to trade?"

"That is always a possibility your Highness."

"Excellent! I shall order my military to seize that ship and to 'trade' for their technology with their lives!"

"That would not be wise, Highness."

"Not wise? Pray tell, why would it not be wise? It is, after all, what we want!"

"I am not a liberty to say Highness, other than at this moment, a battle fleet of our own is headed for Babylon 5. If your ships were to arrive before or after them, tensions might rise uncontrollably, Highness."

"Then we shall order those ships dispatched to Babylon 5 in support of your own, Mr. Morden. Leave us!"

"Your will, Excellency."

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On Earth, Clark had reached the same conclusion, and for perhaps the same reason as the Centauri Emperor. The shielding technology was too good to let it slip only into the hands of the Shadows. With such an advanced tech on their own ships, they would be unstoppable in the face of their allies and enemies. The orders were given. From Centauri space, a fleet of fifty ships, Vorchan and Primus class, departed Centauri space bound for Babylon 5. From Earth, a fleet of sixty ships, a mix of older Hyperions and Novas and the newer Omegas all set out for Babylon 5.

One way or the other, the mystery ship at Babylon 5 would give up its secrets.

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AIS Halsey
Bridge

"Admiral's on Deck!"

"As you were. Now, my distinguished guests. This is the bridge of the Halsey. It is considered the primary or main bridge, but there are five redundant areas of the ship that can take control should the need arise. To the right and near the main screens are the science and navigation stations. To the left and near the main screens are the offensive and defensive weapons stations. In general terms, the offensive weapons of the Halsey are her long range laser cannons and her intermediate range rail drivers, along side the intermediate and short range missile racks. In defensive terms, there are laser batteries, rail gun turrets, and interceptor missile racks. In the middle, and down near the view screens, are five stations; two for helm control, two for propulsion, and one for our shields. From this seat here, the current Watch Officer has an excellent view of the various stations. The chair has a pair of multi-function displays that can show a smaller view of what ever the Officer wishes to view. For example, if the WO wants to look at a science screen, he or she, merely has to activate it on this panel to get all the details.

"Behind and to the right along the rear wall are the engineering stations, where the duty officer from our Engineering section can maintain the ship's power systems and main reactor plants. Behind and to the left along the rear wall are the medical and judicial stations. In times of emergency, the medical officer co-ordinates with the engineering officer to dispatch damage control teams and medical rescue teams. The Judicial officer is there to give interpretation to the laws and regulations that we have pledged adherence to, in the event that a situation is not clear on some point. It also gives the WO a glimpse into the morale of the ship and her crew. As any officer in any military ever in history can state, 'Morale is a dangerous thing'."

"And how is the morale of your ship, Admiral?"

"I would venture to say that it is good, Ambassador Delenn, but it could do with shore leave, if that were possible."

"How large a crew do you have aboard the Halsey?"

"Approximately eight thousand four hundred crew."

"That is a very large number, Admiral Ramos. We could extend an invitation to you and your crew to visit the station for shore leave, but I'm afraid that all of you at once would severely tax the limits of Mr. Garibaldi and his security teams."

"I would not venture to ask for such a thing, Captain Sheridan, as that would leave no crew aboard the Halsey for even routine tasks, but perhaps on a rotational schedule, something on the order of two thousand at a time? I would even task additional security teams to assist your station in this matter."

"The guns your troops carry, slug throwers, would damage the station, so I'm afraid they'd have to be unarmed."

"Actually, Mr. Garibaldi, you bring up a very good point. It is true that our ground troops use what you call slug throwers. But our security personnel carry Intars. These are similar in nature to your PPG weaponry in that they emit a small particle of energy as a projectile. However, your PPG weapons can kill whereas our Intar weaponry stuns only. We use them as training weapons as they have the same weight as a standard weapon. They even get lighter as the clip is expended! But as they are designed for training, and as killing a soldier in training is not a good thing, the Intar is only capable of a stun effect."

"Stun only? That would've been nice when we were fighting off that breaching pod a week ago. Bet they'd be good for the occasional riot on the station too."

"Oh, for riot control we have something nice. Here, we call this a shock grenade. The nice thing is that it doesn't explode in the conventional sense. What that means is that no fragments go flying out of it when it detonates. Instead, it emits a loud sound and a brilliant flash of light. The combination of the two stuns any individuals within fifty feet of the epicenter and afterwards, you can pick up the shock grenade and recharge it for the next use. Remember to wear ear plugs and cover your eyes when you use one or you will be as unconscious as your intended targets."

"How long is the knock out effect?"

"That depends on the strength of the individual, but generally it can last up to six hours or as little as an hour as is the case with Jaffa. But there again, Jaffa warriors have a symbiote to assist them in recovering from the stun effects."

"For riot control in an enclosed area like the station, those two items are nice. Cap, we need to get us some of those!"

"Indeed Captain Sheridan, if you are amenable to the limited shore leave numbers I have suggested, I will lend to the station four Shore Patrol teams, armed with Intars and a limited number of Shock grenades. When the SP teams return to the Halsey, the weapons will remain on the station for your usage. Consider it a gift between friends."

"I think that will work out quite nicely, Admiral."

"Now, let us proceed with the tour. Next on our stop is the Forge deck, where we manufacture all of the items this ship uses. Except for major repairs that need to be accomplished in space dock, every Strike Carrier is capable of repairing itself and the equipment within. That is not to say that the outside armour is self-repairing. That would not be a factual statement. When in combat, any repairs to the outer hull are next to impossible, unless those damaged sections are available from within where we can place a temporary patch. When not in battle, we can send out larger repair crews to fix any damaged portions of the ship using hull material manufactured here on the Forge deck. This deck also allows us to build replacement fighters and armaments for those fighters. In effect, each Strike Carrier can, as long as supplies hold, replenish the weapons it expends in combat."

"Which explains why you have such a large crew. I mean, all those engineers and such building stuff."

"Actually Commander Ivanova, the Forge deck is largely automated. Ah, Chief Petrocelli, if you would be so kind as to demonstrate for us?"

"Sure thing Admiral. If you folks will gather in a bit closer, you'll see things a bit better. This here is the interface for Forge number six. I key in what we need, uhm Admiral?"

"Let's make it something simple, Chief. How about an M11 pistol with a dozen Intar clips?"

"Sounds like an easy task for my baby here sir. So here we go. Menu selection: weapon, infantry. Menu selection: handgun, M11. Menu selection: ammunition, Intar, 12 magazines. Now if you folks will look through the window there, you'll see the robots move to the storage area to extract the raw metals, then they pour those into the Forge where the real action takes place. Look up at the monitors here, it's kind of hard to tell, but what you're seeing is the creation engine at work. I don't know all the fancy-shmancy words for it, but what happens in there is that a bunch of really, really tiny robots put the raw stuff together and what comes out on this end is one M11 Compact pistol of the Intar variety. And here you are sir. Pistol is ready, complete with two clips. The others will be just a minute."

"A creation engine?"

"One of the devices that we utilize to create what we need. We can not create something from nothing. We need the raw materials for a gun before we can produce a gun. Or the raw materials for a fighter before we can produce said fighter. But it does give industry a whole new meaning. As long as there are templates for the Forge to follow, it can create almost anything."

"Do the metals and such need to be refined?"

"No Captain. Such is the beauty of the Forge. Raw 'stuff' for lack of a better word, goes in and finished product comes out."

"Amazing. Simply amazing. With something like that we can cut our dependence on off-station suppliers for a large part of our needs. Would you be willing to trade this technology?"

"Yes we would. But first, let us continue the tour. I'm certain there are any number of other 'wonders' we may have here that you would be interested in. Thanks for the demonstration Chief Petrocelli. Chief Garibaldi, here's your first Intar. Play nice with it, now. Next stop, the medical bay."

For his part, Michael Garibaldi looked at the weapon in his hands while he walked with the group. He had seen the industrial sized robot arms moving raw metal into the white hot forge, but he could not see with movement on the tiny robots that produced this weapon. The gun felt real enough. He had one just like it in his quarters. One that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family, along with a fair collection of other law enforcement weapons and articles. But just now, they were entering the one place he really did not like; medical.

"For this part of the tour, I'm going to turn you over to the very capable hands of Doctor Dana K. Scully, Chief Medical officer aboard the Halsey."

"Thank you Admiral, and welcome to all of you. Now, as medical bays go, this may not be state of the art in your terms, but to us it is quite advanced. We have eight operating theaters, and a bed facility for two hundred wounded. There are also additional emergency facilities throughout the ship that can house additional wounded that do not require as much care as this primary facility can provide. In the event of a large medical emergency where the number of critically wounded is higher than we can safely accommodate, there are one hundred stasis tubes where we can place the more critical cases. The stasis tubes are used only when the most urgent cases can not be immediately treated. Additionally, I have on my staff five Tok'ra medics who, because of their unique physiology, can utilize the Healing Device to stabilize those with minor wounds or bone breaks. In the event of something more catastrophic, we utilize the sarcophagi located behind you. Yes, there is a significant resemblance to ancient Egyptian sarcophagi, however instead of these being grandiose coffins for the dead, these devices can completely heal a person, even bring them back from death. Unfortunately, prolonged usage of a sarcophagus leads to severe mental instability and for that reason alone we choose to use them only as a last resort."

"You can actually bring someone back from the dead?"

"Doctor Franklin, I presume? To answer your question, yes we can. Although it must be someone who has died very recently. Within ten minutes at the most, otherwise we face rather extreme brain damage that the sarcophagus would be unable to heal. I believe Dr. Jackson, of the First Contact team, has used the device on three occasions where he had been killed. Also Colonel O'Neill, if I am not mistaken."

"You ain't mistaken Doc. I hate those things. If a man is supposed to die, then he should just die. The worst thing that can happen to a soldier is to die in combat and then wake up in one of those things. Gives me the creeps just remembering it."

"All that aside, the procedure is quite safe if used sparingly. Yes? You have a question, Ambassador?"

"Yes Doctor I do. I notice that these sarcophagi are very ornate, almost like something we Centauri would make, with lots of pretty designs laid in gold, yet the rest of the ship seems very utilitarian. Even your stasis tubes are of a scientific level that is far in advance of your medical science from what I can see."

"Very observant Ambassador Mollari. The stasis tubes were a gift from the Asgard, one of the member races of the Alliance. The sarcophagi were a gift from the Goa'uld Lord Yu as a token towards a more peaceful relationship with the Alliance."

"Admiral, who are these other races you mention?"

"All in good time friends. Let us continue this tour first, then we shall adjourn to a conference room for refreshments and a short question and answer session. Dr. Franklin, if you so wish, you can remain here and exchange notes as it were, with Dr. Scully?"

"I'd like that, if that's alright with you Captain."

"Please. Anything that can help us out with our situation."

"Well then, if Dr. Scully would be so kind as to escort her guest to the main conference room on the main deck when she's done here, then we shall continue."

"I'll get him there. It gives me a chance to exchange notes with him as well."

"Good. Next stop, the training rooms."

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The tour continued at length for more than two standard hours until they at last came to the conference room to find Doctors Scully and Franklin exchanging notes on alien physiology in an excited manner. All of those assembled, from Sheridan and his command staff, to the Ambassadors and their aides, to the command staff and escorts of the Halsey were a bit tired from walking so much. The chairs were comfortable respites from their long walking tour of the ship. Mess stewards came in and laid out coffee and tea service for those present in the room, along with a selection of sandwiches for those who felt the need for sustenance.

"Admiral Ramos, I am curious to know more about this Alliance you have mentioned on numerous occasions."

"Of course Captain. The Alliance of Independent Systems has, at its core, seven member systems or groups of systems: Kelowna, Colonial Mars, Immortal Luna, Humans (or the Tau'ri as we are known), the Tollan, the Asgard, and the Ancients. Four of those races reside in one system of planets; the Tau'ri, the Ancients, the Immortals, and the Colonials. Of the remaining three, Kelowna claims only one planet in its home system, while the Tollan can lay claim to one home world and six lesser colony worlds. Only the Asgard can lay claim to several hundred colony worlds in several hundred planetary systems. Of the AIS, only the Asgard and the Ancients were once a part of an older Alliance that served to protect the younger races from the Goa'uld.

"The Goa'uld are an old race. Well, that is, they can lay claim to hundreds of thousands of years of recorded history. The Goa'uld are a race of parasitic creatures that inhabit hosts, generally human. They found the human body easy to manipulate and easy to control. They forcibly join with their host and carry out atrocities that even the worst creature in history would never dare to imagine. The Goa'uld have been responsible for the wholesale slaughter of untold trillions. They believe themselves to be Gods and they force their followers to worship them as such."

"Gods? Great Maker, these Goa'uld must be mad to think of themselves as such!"

"Tell me, Ambassador Mollari. If one of these Goa'uld appeared to your citizens and proclaimed himself a God, how would they react?"

"He would be killed! The lunacy of the idea would drive my people mad with blood lust!"

"And if this so called God happened to revive after being killed, would your people stop to listen, perhaps?"

"Revived? Ah yes, the sarcophagi you showed us earlier?"

"Yes, Ambassador. The Goa'uld use humans as hosts because our bodies are easily repaired and can be made by a sarcophagus to stay very young in appearance. The first of these Gods the Tau'ri encountered in their travels was Ra, the King of the Gods. He appeared to them to be only twenty human years of age, but in actuality he was over ten thousand years of age. As was mentioned earlier in our tour, repeated usage of the sarcophagus leads to severe mental instability. Can you imagine that after ten thousand years of usage that the being known as Ra was not mentally impaired? But he was killed. And the Tau'ri have been at war with the Goa'uld ever since."

"And you are of the Tau'ri?"

"No Citizen G'Kar, I am not. I am an Immortal. Dr. Scully there is of the Tau'ri. Colonel Starbuck, the head of our training program that you met earlier, is a Colonial, and Tok'Ra, whom you all have seen, is an Ancient."

"I see no difference between you and the very lovely Dr. Scully or with Colonel Starbuck for that matter."

"The difference is not in our appearance, Captain Sheridan. The difference exists at a genetic level. The Colonials, the Tau'ri, and the Immortals all share the same genetic code, save for a few genetic sequences. For the Tau'ri and the Colonials, the differences are not genetic, but rather environmental, considering that the Colonials evolved in a far away part of the universe. That they are genetically identical tells me that the Universe often has a profound sense of humor.

"Immortals, on the other hand, are not a creation of the universe, but rather are a creation of the Ancients. They manipulated the genetic code of the Tau'ri such that one in every hundred thousand Tau'ri women had the potential to bear an Immortal offspring, but only if they had 'mated' with an Immortal male. When the Tau'ri were young and not so numerous, Immortal births were decades, even centuries apart. But now that they are numerous indeed, the number of Immortal births is rising. Any Tau'ri has the potential within their genetic code to become an Immortal or to give birth to an Immortal, but only an existing Immortal can tell who will become another of our kind. We can sense those destined to become such. Yes. Become, for a Tau'ri must die before the Immortality can come to the surface. Otherwise, the Tau'ri will continue to age as they normally would and eventually die of natural causes. The youngest Immortal I have ever heard of was twelve human years when he crossed over. And he appeared to be only twelve at the time of his death though he was actually over nine hundred years of age.

"Imagine. Living forever and not aging. Some would think it a wondrous thing. And it can be. As Immortals we get to see the passing of history, even live it to some extent. But we can't have children. And all those mortals that we love will die eventually. You get to live forever, but everyone around you dies. Immortality is both a blessing and a curse."

"You mentioned others in your alliance."

"Yes, Dr. Franklin, three other races. The Kelownans and the Tollan are human, save for some minor genetic and environmental differences. The Asgard are not. In fact, the Vree that you are familiar with are probably the closest analogy to the Asgard. Small in stature, grey skinned, and large solid black eyes. They are among the oldest races we have encountered in our travels. They are also a very benevolent race, and have for years acted to protect certain species in the universe. The Tau'ri are among those protected species."

"Admiral, you mentioned earlier an exchange of technologies?"

"Thank you G'Kar for bringing us back on point. Yes I did mention that. This is what I propose to each of you. Ambassadors, go back to your governments and share with them all that you have seen. Explain to them that we are open to the possibility of negotiations for certain of our technologies. Ask them what they would be willing to exchange for those items. Captain Sheridan, the same also applies to you, though I don't believe you will be speaking with your government on Earth. So look at what you have and what you would be willing to trade. I'm sure that this request of ours will take some time on the parts of your governments, so as soon as you are ready, leave a message on your BabCom system for me and I will detail our diplomatic section to attend those details. Now, friends, I will ask the Honour Guard to escort you back to the hangar bay and I will bid you good day."

It was true that the station had broken away from the Earth Government. Such was the reason that those eight destroyers had attempted to wrest control of the station from Sheridan. But not all of the Earthers had left the station. Before President Clark had declared martial law on Earth and her colonies, he had created a number of new Ministries, among them the Ministry for Peace. A branch of the agency, Nightwatch, had numerous members still aboard the station and they were actively planning for widespread chaos. In truth, they were little better than misguided terrorists.

----------------------------------------

The next day, the first two thousand crew of the Halsey began arriving on the station for a forty-eight hour liberty pass. Accompanying them were four squads of Shore Patrol, to assist the station with security duties. The SP squads were taking eight-on and eight-off shifts in pairs, so that they too would get some shore leave. It was a certain thing that whatever currency units each crewmember had on their person would not be accepted by the station vendors, as the exchange rates for such old and antiquated currency would not be in the best interest of the Halsey crews. So Pierson suggested that they take some gold out of stores and create a generic fleet currency unit that all crew could withdraw from their personal accounts.

As per Marius' word, all of the SP personnel were armed with Intar stun weapons, and their commanding officers and unit sergeants additionally had been issued three Shock grenades apiece. Marius and his protective detail, along with Alex and Methos also went to the station with the first wave of liberty crews.

They were just leaving the arrivals area of the station when the shots rang out. What followed was sheer bedlam and chaos as humans and aliens alike scattered for cover. Alex and Methos both pulled Intar pistols from their belts, while Marius' protective detail took up guard positions with their staffs. More shots were heard and this time, the shots were coming in their direction. Alex dropped to the ground; severe plasma burns stitched across his chest. Methos sighted in their attacker and let fly with a dozen shots from his Intar while Alison moved up to flank their attacker. With a shocked cry of pain, Methos fell writhing to the ground. Marius nudged Reagan to assist Alison while he and Kyra dove for cover behind some furniture in the embarkation area.

A few more shots were heard and then a cry of pain as their attacker found himself face to face with the blade in Alison's staff. Reagan had cornered a second attacker that had apparently planned to back up the first, before he could fire. With their own blades drawn, Kyra and Marius moved up to confront their attackers. After a moment, station security and Halsey's SPs moved in to take custody of the two would be assassins. Marius heard someone behind him bellow for a med team and he moved to quash that.

"That won't be necessary Chief."

"You've got two wounded! One's bleeding badly and the other probably won't ever have kids again!"

"It is not necessary Chief. But if you insist, then I will take them to your Med Lab. Kyra, Reagan. Stay with the prisoners. Make sure no harm comes to them."

"As you will, Mr. President."

As Chief Garibaldi looked on, the two women in question sheathed their very nasty looking swords into their staves, and proceeded to follow his security team as they moved the prisoners to a holding cell. By the time he had turned back to the Admiral and his XO, their swords had also been sheathed.

"Just wooden staffs, eh?"

"They are now. Besides, Chief, with your plasma based weaponry, do you really think a sword would make much difference? Let alone a wooden staff?"

"That's besides the point. Why did she call you 'Mr. President'?"

"A slip of the tongue, nothing more. Now then, I believe you were insistent that we get these two to med lab?"

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Security Control
Office of Chief Garibaldi

"Sorry John, but all they're willing to give is a name. No other identification. Zack made them to be Nightwatch. But beyond that, nothing."

"Damn it, Michael! I won't have Nightwatch or any other rogue Earth group attacking one of our guests!"

"My hands are tied, Captain. I can't even get them scanned without violating their rights!"

Marius had left Alex and Methos in Med Lab recovering from their bout of plasma fire and had walked into Security Control, catching the last sentence uttered by Chief Garibaldi.

"Perhaps, you can not violate their rights, Chief. But the attack was made on my person, and two of my crew are wounded, though they should be up and around in perhaps ten minutes, probably less. And suffice to say, Chief, I would not want to be in their shoes when Captain Pierson gets back on his feet. Those two in there managed to piss off the eldest of my kind, and that is most definitely not a good thing."

"The two that were wounded are Immortals? Like you?"

"Yes Chief. Like me. In terms of age, I'm a five year old compared to Pierson. After all, what is twenty-six hundred years compared to ten thousand."

"Ten thousand?"

"Yes. Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'senior citizen' does it not?"

"And your other wounded Immortal? How old is he?"

"Between twenty-three and twenty-four hundred years. More than that, I can't say without giving away more than he would like."

"You may as well tell them, Mr. President."

"Alex. It is not my place to tell them what you wish to remain secret."

"Wait a minute. You said somewhere between twenty-three and twenty-four hundred years, right?"

"He did, Captain."

"And you came from 2003 in your calendar, right?"

"Correct again, Captain."

"So, adjusting for the difference in calendars, that would put 'Alex' here some time around the mid 350's BC. I knew you looked familiar!"

"By Jove, I think he's got it, Marius!"

"It would seem so, Alex. Chief Garibaldi, you look confused, but your Captain has deduced correctly. Lieutenant Alex Phillipson is indeed Alexander, son of Philip, of Macedonia."

"Michael, I think I need to sit down."

"Captain, I think someone needs to tell me who he is. Sorry, Admiral, but I've never been much on ancient history."

"Michael. He's the Great. Alexander the Great."

"I....think I need to sit down now."

"And we would appreciate it if you would not go around spreading his true identity? Are we in agreement Captain?"

"Yes. Admiral. We are. I'd ask for your autograph, but I don't think anyone would ever believe me."

"Hehehe. Probably not. Suffice to say that rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated."

"So it would seem. But back to the matter at hand, Chief. You say you can not scan the prisoners. I take it you mean a telepathic scan?"

"Correct. Telepathic scans without their consent are a violation of Earth and station laws."

"I see. What about a polygraph? Are the results admissible?"

"No. Polygraphs were proven unreliable back in the early 21st century."

"Hmm. Well, as they stand now, do you have enough to convict them of a crime?"

"Attempted murder. Plenty of witnesses for that. They'll get deported back to Earth."

"Well then, Chief. It seems we have nothing to lose and everything to gain by administering a polygraph."

"I just told you, a polygraph is unreliable. Lie detector tests are easy to beat."

"True. For the most part. Alex, contact the ship and ask the Duty Officer to have one of the Tok'ra bring over the Zatarc tester and a pair of memory recall devices. Also ask the DO to have Cassandra report to me as soon as possible."

"You got it, Mr. President!"

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"Zatarc tester? And that's the second person that's called you 'Mr. President'! What gives?"

"Chief. Captain Sheridan. Currently I am serving as Admiral aboard the Halsey. That was meant only for the duration of trials for the Halsey. My real job, if you could call it that, is as President of the Immortal Council. Chosen by a lottery for a term of one century. Not a job I wanted, but one I am serving in to the best of my abilities. As to the Zatarc tester, well, that is our version of a polygraph. It makes it impossible to be deceitful because the machine recognizes the deceit. It causes some pain to the deceiver, but more to the point, the information is clearly displayed on a screen. Also, the memory recall device can be plugged into the Zatarc tester, and into a holographic display, so we can see the person's memories and judge them for ourselves."

"It's probably still not usable in any court, Captain."

"Probably not, Chief, but it may serve to tell us who was involved with this plot."

"And, more to the point, it will tell us if I was the intended victim."

"He has a point. If he was not the intended victim, then there may be other assassins on this station who will try again. Tell me, Captain Sheridan. Who else was in the embarkation area when we arrived?"

Sheridan started to speak, but the thought that he was speaking to a ten thousand year old man went through his head at that moment, making speech impractical.

"Captain Sheridan?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that after what Admiral Ramos just told me, it seems strange to be speaking with someone who has seen so much history."

"I see. And did the Admiral fill you in on his history? Considering he filled you in on mine, I would think that would be fair."

"No. He said he's an Immortal, but not anything of his history."

"Then Captain, allow me to properly introduce you to Gaius Marius the Younger, Pro Consul to Rome, and President of the Immortal Council."

"Uhm. I think I need a drink."

"You left out something Adam. You forgot the Commander and General bit."

"Quite right. Gaius Marius the Younger, Proconsul of Rome. Commander of the Armies of the West, and General of the Prima Legions."

"Make that a bottle."

"Of course, Adam left out the fact that he was the Memoriae to Caesar, and that he spent about a thousand years or so riding around with a band of ruffians calling themselves the Four Horsemen."

"Uhm. Forget the bottle, just leave me the keg."

It was all that he could say really. Here were two men in front of him that had been alive when Rome was the greatest power on Earth. Such history! To be able to have all the events of the past as they unfolded! It was something that both he and Garibaldi were having a difficult time grasping.

"Captain, you may continue to address me as Admiral in public, but you may also call me Marius, as that is the name I am most comfortable with."

"There are so many things I would like to ask you."

"Captain, please remember that your Earth and my Earth are in different universes. There may be a significant amount of similarities, but I suspect there are also a significant amount of differences."

"Yes. Of course. You're quite right about that. The history I'm familiar with has us making first contact around 2151, not during the time of the Egyptian Empire. We also have no knowledge of this, what did you call it? Uhm...wormhole travel."

"Where we are from, first contact was announced by the President of the United States, John P. Ryan, early in 2003. Though the truth of that is that first contact happened sometime between 9000 and 8000 BC, when the Goa'uld came to Earth. But the gate they came through was sealed for millennia, and it was not until 1995 that we managed to re-open the Stargate and began travelling the universe. It wasn't until five years later that we managed to build our own spacecraft and began travelling the universe by ship."

"The truth of the matter is Captain Sheridan, that you recognized the word Rome. That tells me that we have at least that in common. First Contact differs, but I would venture to say that other pivotal events are the same. Your Earth seems to be as prone to violence as our own. But here you had the Vorlons to influence you. We had the Ancients to influence us."

"Well said Adam."

"Perhaps with a more detailed examination of your history, we could see just how similar we are."

"Mr. Garibaldi can arrange for access to our historical records, if you like."

"That may be a good idea, Adam. It may help us in the upcoming negotiations."

It was while Garibaldi was attempting to access the B5 historical archives that he noticed the computer was acting strangely. With a heavy sigh and shudder he looked up to Sheridan with confusion in his eyes. It was at that precise moment that Alex and Cassandra walked in.

"Captain, looks like we have a problem."

"What prob... Uhm, Elizabeth?"

"I'm sorry? My name is Cassandra. You sent for me Marius?"

"You look exactly like Elizabeth. The resemblance is uncanny."

"Who is Elizabeth?" Asked by Cassandra, but in truth, the question was on everyone's mind.

"Someone I knew, once. Long ago. As far as I know she's aboard the Acheron."

"I see. If my presence disturbs you, then perhaps I should leave?"

"No. You look like her, but you aren't her."

Marius pulled Cassandra aside and explained the situation to her regarding the attempted assassination. She responded in the affirmative regarding his request to use the Voice on the prisoners in custody. Meanwhile, Garibaldi explained the computer problem to Sheridan. Both agreed to make that their top priority and to leave an observer with Marius and Cassandra. Garibaldi placed a BabCom call to Lyta Alexander. D'fir arrived with two SPs carrying the Zatarc machine. He would remain behind to run the tests. Armed guards, under Garibaldi's watchful eyes walked in and attached two small metal disks to the temple of each man, then walked away. Both men were still handcuffed, but were seated in chairs. Ten minutes later, Cassandra entered the room where the prisoner was located while Marius, Lyta, and Garibaldi watched over a monitor.

"Hello Mr. Boggs. My name is Cassandra. You must tell me all that you know."

Cassandra's Voice was something that resonated deep within the man she was speaking to. Though he had been trained to resist telepathic interrogation, this was an interrogation of a different sort. The subtle intonations of Cassandra's voice made him extremely compliant. Outside the room, Lyta watched via the monitors. She could detect no overt telepathic means by which Cassandra used her voice. She used her Vorlon enhanced abilities, but could detect no telepathic transmissions emanating from Cassandra. It left her with many questions for Marius. D'fir watched the readings on the tester and saw that for the moment, the man was unwilling or unable to lie.

"Tell me why you chose to target Admiral Ramos for assassination."

"Orders. I was ordered to by the Ministry of Peace and Justice, as they were so ordered by President Clark for the humiliating defeat of eight Earth Force Destroyers sent to recapture Babylon 5."

"This Ministry of Peace and Justice. Tell me more about them."

"The arm of the Ministry on the station is Nightwatch. They are charged with slowing and halting the influence of aliens on the people of Earth."

"Why is this influence a bad thing?"

"Earth must be purified. Earth belongs to Earthers. The Universe shall be ours and no other race shall have rule over us."

"Was Admiral Ramos you're only target?"

"No. He was a target of opportunity."

"Who was the primary target?"

"Delenn of Minbar. President Clark ordered her termination be carried out with extreme prejudice."

"Very good, Mr. Boggs. Did you act alone?"

"No. From the membership rolls of Nightwatch, I was able to recruit a sniper aboard the station. He had served Earth Force well during the Earth-Minbari war."

"How many members of Nightwatch are aboard the station?"

"I know of only fifty."

"How is the Nightwatch organized? What is your hierarchy?"

"Nightwatch is organized in public as a communal group. In private, the groups are called cells. Each cell leader is responsible for the recruitment of members for his cell. There are fifty cell leaders aboard Babylon 5."

"Are these fifty cell leaders the same fifty people you referred to early as members of Nightwatch?"

As he spoke the words, images flashed on a nearby screen of the cell leaders in question. Among the images were the official Earth representative from the Ministry of Peace. It had been he who had given the order to assassinate Delenn of Minbar.

"Yes."

"Very good, Mr. Boggs. I will leave you now. You have been very helpful."

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"Marius. He was very forthcoming."

"He was, wasn't he? Captain, you saw that she used no overt method to get the information from him. No drugs were used. Is the information obtained useful?"

"In a court, maybe. But we can use it to identify the Nightwatch members and round them up."

"All in all, a productive day, yes? Looks like we have managed to obtain the information that was needed. Alex, Adam, you're on your own for the rest of the liberty pass. You too, Cassandra. I think that I shall retire to my quarters aboard the station for a bit of rest before seeing more of your station, Captain."

"Very well. I will contact you as soon as we have our negotiations team ready."

"Excellent."

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When Marius entered his quarters, he found one message waiting for him on the BabCom unit. A short one from Major Mulder. He read over the message and opened a channel to Major Mulder.

"Mulder. Ah, Marius. I heard there was a problem on the station. You seem to be ok?"

"I'm fine Mulder. As to your question on the technology trade guidelines? I think if we start with..."

And Marius continued at length for some minutes before closing the channel. Now that Mulder had his marching orders, he would get with his carefully chosen team to plan out their strategy for getting, as Marius had put it, 'the most bang for their limited buck'. Shortly after closing the channel, his door chimed and he bade the person at the door enter.

"Ms. Alexander! How pleasant to see you again. And so soon! How might I be of service?"

"While I was observing Cassandra, I used every method open to me to scan her telepathically, yet she never noticed I was doing this. You said all of your kind could not be scanned?"

"Were you able to see into her mind?"

"No. But she didn't detect my scans?"

"Odds are she did not. It is my understanding from her that using the Voice takes a lot out of her. As to how the Voice works, only she knows. As far as I know, she is the only one of our kind that possess that particular ability."

"I see. I was wondering, if perhaps you might join me for lunch? Or dinner?"

"Dinner would be nice. So would lunch for that matter. But if I had to choose then I would say dinner."

"Dinner it is. I'll pick you up here at say, nineteen hundred?"

"Excellent! I will await you at that time."

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Earth Prime

It had been a month since the Halsey had disappeared at the onset of her space trials. A month in which other battlecruisers had been dispatched to aid the Moscow and the Houston in their fruitless search. At the end of that month, the Halsey was listed in the rolls simply as 'Lost, with All Hands'. As a replacement for the lost Halsey, the Immortal shipyards were planning to build another Strike Carrier.

The AIS Kuznetsov had been completed and was taking on supplies and personnel. The Nelson was undergoing final fittings, and the keels had been laid on the two remaining strike carriers; the Spruance and the Varyag.

The Immortal Design Bureau, after much debate, drew up plans for a battleship class vessel that would bristle with guns and have a small hangar that would be home to five shuttles. The shuttles would be of the same Bulldog class used on the Strike Carriers, but would be fixed for Search and Rescue. As a compromise to one adamant designer, the SAR Bulldogs would be equipped with limited defensive armament to assist in their primary mission. As Marius had envisioned the battleship, so the IDB had laid out the plans. Four large calibre guns; two for and two aft, multiple launchers for missiles and several dozen anti-fighter laser batteries.

Over Mars, the Colonial Forge ships had churned out several hundred Viper class fighters and they were busily producing sections for three more new Battlestars. Because of the new Alliance, ships from various members' worlds were beginning to appear in the Sol system, bringing their warriors to a central location so that the new fleets could be put together. Leaders of the various fleets had yet to be assigned, but the various races with their dissimilar methodology were already beginning to work together, after a fashion.

On Earth, Senator Kinsey was putting together a new Consortium. This one would not work with the Greys like its predecessor had, a fact that he had always found disgusting to his nature, but would in fact work to close Earth off; to isolate it from alien influence. The Governor of his state had known that Kinsey had not been in the House when it was attacked and so he had not replaced him. He had appointed another man as the replacement for the other lost senator, but it was a man of Kinsey's choice. He was moving behind the scenes and would shortly announce his bid for the Presidency. Before he'd had only one goal. To stop the Stargate program at all costs, or at the very least to have it moved to his control. Now he had another goal. He wanted the Presidency and he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

He had searched and cajoled. He had bribed and blackmailed. So many petty bureaucrats just trying to protect their own fiefdoms within the governmental entity that is the United States of America! So many that he easily found a high ranking military officer that was able to give him what he wanted just to protect his pet project's budget for the coming year; a transcript of the Consortium Triad. Oddly, it did not include the sentencing phase of that particular miscarriage of justice, but he felt sure that they had been put to death. He ignored the fact that Tollana had no death penalty. With the old guard out of the way, he called upon certain individuals in the now defunct NID to serve on his new Consortium. He searched in vain for Alex Krycek, to determine why he had not carried out his orders regarding the termination of this so-called Immortal president, but he was unable to locate him. He had a final notification that Krycek had departed via the Kennedy space port bound for Luna, but there was no record of his arrival there. So odd, but it did not matter.

But he was pleased to learn that the AIS Halsey had been lost with all hands! In one fell swoop, he was rid of not only the Immortal President, but also of that meddling do-gooder team known as SG-1. Some days, it felt truly good to be alive. Today, with the news of the Halsey, was that day.

And tomorrow, with the release to the media of his bid for the Presidency of the United States, would definitely be a most excellent day!

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Babylon 5
Journey Day 18

Marius had a pleasant evening. He had left the vast piles of never ending paperwork behind on the Halsey. For the first time in a truly long time, he felt grateful to the Gods that had created him. It was a good time to be alive. He began to think on his long life. Had he not become an Immortal so long ago, his life would have ended on a forgotten battlefield. But he had transitioned to Immortality. It was a state of life, a phase, that he had more often cursed than found to be a blessing. His father, or the man he thought of as his father, had been a great man in Rome. The truth of the matter was that Marius had been born long before his 'father' rose to power in Rome. Five hundred years old by the time he encountered the elder Marius.

He had come to Marius' estate as a slave, and through his hard work and his gift of learning and understanding, had made an impression on the mortal Marius. So much so, that the mortal man elevated him from slave to adopted son, a practice nearly unheard of in that period of history. But the Elder Marius saw something in the young man that stood before him that no other had seen; a gift for strategy. It was something that the mortal Marius used often. Gaius Marius had adopted the young-ish looking Immortal when he was but 28, and serving as a quaestor in Rome. When the elder Marius was appointed to the praetorship of distant Spain, the younger Marius followed him. Those were heady times, working with Marius and later with Sulla. He managed to convince Marius of the importance of using the common Roman man in her legions, making an army out of the people instead of the rich. It proved a worthy suggestion as it helped to reform Rome's armies.

Later in his life, the elder Marius rose to Proconsul, as would his adopted son, Marius the Younger. In the fullness of time, Marius the Immortal rose to Consul first, then Proconsul, only to be betrayed by Caesar, his 'cousin' and his 'fathers' nephew. For a time, he settled into an estate in Spain, before moving on to Europe and much later, the Americas. So much history he had seen, though as a part of it, he didn't recognize the events for what they were until much later. Had he not been what he was, he doubtless would have died unknown and alone, as he did not take his first wife until after he had left Rome.

Now, here he was, in another universe, exploring all that life had to offer him. Such irony. Take the meal a short while ago for instance. Would he ever have imagined such pleasant company? A beautiful woman with a sharp mind and an even sharper wit. Compared to the man he was so many centuries ago, Marius had grown and evolved. But enough of the retrospection. For now he had more serious concerns on his mind. He did not know if the passage of time in this universe was equivalent to the universe he hailed from. He was concerned over events at home. The Cylons were a serious threat on their own. Anubis was a serious threat on his own. Combined, the two were a deadly threat to the peace of his home universe. At the moment, they were evenly matched in terms of ship to ship firepower. The advantage, however, fell to the Cylon-Anubis alliance as they could call up more ships to battle than the combined might of Earth, Mars, and Luna. Perhaps Tok'Ra had an ulterior motive for allowing these cross-dimensional jaunts? For the sake of so many back home, Marius prayed that he did.

A week passed uneventfully on the station. Most of the crew had by now taken their turn at shore leave, and a firm schedule had been decided upon by all parties for the expected technology negotiations. But first, there would be one brief meeting with all parties where the Halsey negotiating team would show off their technologies. The team had argued and debated long and hard over which technologies they could trade that would not upset the delicate balance in this universe. But whether they chose tech meant for war or peace, the tech could be abused. They had no real control over the eventual end use of a particular item. So they chose items that would be more difficult to turn into weapons. At the very least, very serious thought would be required before turning any of these items into weapons of war.

Marius and Methos were in the Zen Garden aboard the station discussing this very issue when the Ranger Marcus appeared in their midst, with a man who carried a sword that both recognized from their past.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Arthur of Camelot."

Methos and Marius both looked at the man more closely. Methos had known the man history called Arthur. He had known him late in Arthur's life, shortly before the good King passed on. Marius had known him when the King was young and still building his empire. Neither man recognized him as their King, but both could not mistake his sword, Excalibur. And both fell prostrate to the ground, swords drawn, but held in supplication.

"My Liege! My sword and my body are at your service!"

"Arise, kind sirs. I see no need for your swords or your bodies at this time, though the gesture is appreciated."

"Of course, sire. It has been a great many centuries since Camelot was in power. That you have returned now is a fortuitous sign!"

"Tell me thy names, that I might properly know thee?"

"My King, I am Adam, but thou knew me as Gawain."

"And I, my Liege, am Marco, but thou knew me as Geraint."

"My two friends! Geraint, tell me that thy armour is not as rusty as it once was?"

"I've no call to wear that armour in many centuries, Sire."

While the man known as Arthur and Methos spoke, Marcus pulled Marius aside and spoke quietly with him.
"I had hoped that you two would not go on like that. I know that you are, shall we say, 'long lived' but I had hoped that you would not humour him so."

"Perhaps he is who he says he is. Though he does not appear to be the man in my memories of Arthur, his sword is unmistakably Excalibur. And who is to say he isn't Arthur?"

"But he isn't. He's listed in Earth Force records as David McIntyre. The DNA is a dead on match for him. He's a survivor of the Line."

"And so you believe he's had a bit of a break from reality? But then again, this is the time of a supposed great change in your universe. Perhaps he isn't who he claims to be, but then again, am I who I say I am?"

"Your argument is fair. I will take him from here. Perhaps there is someone on the station who can help him see the light?"

"The man that history calls Arthur. Well, I knew that man when he was young and when his kingdom was young. But there is no resemblance to this man here."

"And I knew him when he was old and his kingdom was old and dying. Yet there is no resemblance. He may not be Arthur, but if that is who he believes himself to be, who am I to judge? Marcus, he may not be Arthur. Hell, he may not be David McIntyre anymore either. Let him be Arthur until he decides who he is. If it makes life easier for him, then so be it."

"Well said, Adam. Let us continue our discussion. I am sure that Arthur is in good hands with Ranger Cole."

After their discussions had come to a close they had both agreed on a course of action. Methos went to see the Ambassador from Minbar with a request and an hour later, the battlecruiser AIS Los Angeles departed orbit bound for Minbar at high speed. They had decided that a practical demonstration of their technology would benefit all parties in the upcoming meeting.

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Journey Day 27

The next day the meeting began at nine in the morning. Sheridan and Ivanova were there representing Babylon 5, along with Delenn and Lennan of Minbar. Lennan was the captain of the a Minbari cruiser that had arrived a few days previously and Delenn had asked him to attend this opening meeting as it promised to show off some items that would be of interest to the warrior caste. Londo Mollari, and his aide Vir, were there to represent the interests of the Centauri. Citizen G'Kar was present on behalf of the Narn. There were also various representatives of the League of Non-Aligned worlds present. Just when Sheridan was about to call the meeting to order, two more unexpected participants walked in; Kosh of the Vorlons and Mr. Morden on behalf of the Shadow Alliance.

"Mr. Morden, I do not believe you were invited to participate in this meeting?"

"Captain Sheridan. I requested his presence. The Shadow Alliance would be interested in some of the technologies we have to offer, and we, in turn, are interested in some of theirs. If there are no objections to his presence, then I request he be allowed to stay and listen."

"Are you sure of this Admiral Ramos?"

"It is a wise idea to see what we have to offer is it not?"

"It is. Then let us proceed. Admiral Ramos, you have the floor."

"Thank you Captain. Before we begin in earnest with the show and tell aspect of this presentation, I feel the need to explain a few things. First off is the fact that until fairly recently, our species has been traveling the universe via the Stargate, or the Chaapa'ai as it is known in some languages. The Stargate is a device that is composed of two concentric rings, one within another. An outer ring with nine lockable positions and an inner ring where there are thirty-nine position indicators. As all of you may be aware, to travel to any point in space, you will need seven position indicators. Six to describe a destination and one to describe a point of origin.

"The Stargate itself is made of a mineral we call Naquadah, which is a quartz-like element capable of controlling vast amounts of energy. When an energy source is directed to the Stargate, and when seven of the nine chevrons are locked describing a path to a destination, the Naquadah takes the stored energy and uses it to create a stable wormhole between itself and another Stargate at the destination. In order to travel anywhere, at least two operational gates must be used, otherwise the formation of the wormhole is impossible. To illustrate this point, and with the assistance of Delenn of Minbar, one of our ships, the AIS Los Angeles was dispatched to Minbar yesterday. A gate does not need to be on the surface of a target world; it need only be in orbit. We have plotted the course to Minbar using our positioning system and have a similar Gate equipped ship in orbit near Epsilon Three. Let us turn now to the monitors aboard the AIS Kiev."

All eyes in the room turned to a bank of monitors that had been placed along the far wall. They watched as a technician in the screen entered a series of co-ordinates, represented by strange looking symbols, into a computer keyboard. They watched, mesmerized, as the ring within a ring spun one way then another as the locks engaged the various positions indicators. Then, when all seven locks had been engaged, there was a rush of a liquid-like substance that formed a sideways whirlpool emanating from the ring device. When the whirlpool had subsided, the liquid collapsed onto itself forming an undulating pool of shining 'water'. The technician informed the Admiral that the wormhole had been established.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you see on the monitors is a stable wormhole that now exists between the Kiev and the Los Angeles. Two-way communication is possible via the Gate system, however, travel is only one way at a time. That is, because the Kiev 'dialed' the Los Angeles, a crew can be sent to the Los Angeles from the Kiev, but the reverse of that will not be true unless the Los Angeles 'dials' the Kiev. Unless I am mistaken, I believe the travel time via ship to Minbar from this location is three days? Am I correct, Ambassador Delenn?"

"You are correct, Admiral Ramos."

Admiral Ramos uttered a few words into the radio near him, and on the screen, those present in the room watched as five members of the crew of the Kiev walked into the shimmering pool of water. Shortly thereafter, the gate shut down, only to re-start as the Los Angeles began its dialing procedure.

"What you have just witnessed is the near instantaneous travel of five crewmen to the Los Angeles. I say near instantaneous as it takes a few seconds to cross the vast distance between here and Minbar. Now, the Los Angeles is dialing into the Kiev, where a return crew of five will make the journey back here."

Sure enough, a new whirlpool had briefly formed on the screen before returning to its placid state. Shortly afterwards, five Minbari Rangers stepped through the gate to the Kiev.

"Some of you might have said that all of this was an elaborate trick, that the five men who left earlier had not in fact, gone anywhere. So it was decided that five men would go and that five Minbari Rangers would return, to show the capability of this system. Now we will show a different outcome."

On the screens, the Gate shut down, only to start turning again as a new incoming wormhole was being established. But instead of a placid shimmering pool of water, a metal shield irised into place over the pool, followed by several very audible thumps and the shutdown of the gate.

"What you just witnessed was one of the safety features we have built into the Gate. Whenever we travel through the gate system, we carry with us a device that sends a particular code to the receiving gate that indicates whether we are friend or not. If no signal is received after the formation of the wormhole, then the iris closes over the surface of the Gate. It leaves no room for an object to re-integrate into its normal form, and what happens is the 'thumping' noise you heard. This is how we prevent unauthorized usage of our gate system, and how we prevent an attack from coming through the gates to our home world. Now, please understand one very important item. Because of the co-ordinate system in use, and its inherent limitations, only one gate can be placed per planet. To overcome this limiting factor, we ship all cargo to one gate on a nearby world, while all passengers come through the main gate on our world."

So the last statement was a bit of a white lie. Odds were the inhabitants of this universe would never know the truth of that statement, or lack thereof.

"The incoming cargo is then shipped via shuttle to its final destination. As I stated earlier, it was until fairly recently that we utilized the gate system exclusively. Only within the last few years have we begun to build starships, and that is primarily because not all habitable worlds in our home galaxy have Stargates.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is but one of the possible uses of naquadah. Another usage is a generator. I am aware that most of your races utilize fusion or some form of it to produce power. However, as it the case with this station, the fusion reactors are generally rather large. This small box in front of me, measures one cubic meter. Yet, when combined with five others of the same size, it can provide all of the power this station would require. The Halsey uses a slight larger form of this generator, measuring five cubic meters and set in redundant banks of eight, to provide power for the ship. These are but two of the technologies that we offer for trade. When you leave the chamber a short while from now, a series of papers will be handed out itemizing what we would like to trade for. Now, our next demonstration may shock some of you, but please bear with me."

Just as Admiral Ramos had finished his statement, the doors to the Conference room opened a pair of coffin-like devices were brought in into the room. One had a bubble of some transparent material over the top while the other was rather ornamental and inscribed with various odd looking symbols. It also appeared to be made of gold. That in of itself had the attention of the majority of the room. Shortly after the devices were brought in, Drs. Franklin and Scully came in with two more men in the ship uniform of the Halsey.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to witness may sicken you, but I assure you that no harm whatsoever is intended. The two men you see before you are Lieutenant Robertson, formerly of SEAL Team Six and presently attached to the Halsey's special operations section, and Kapitan Tretyego Ranga Ivanov, formerly of Spetsnaz Group Alpha and currently attached to the Marine Expeditionary Force aboard the Halsey. Gentlemen, you have been briefed on your assignment, yes?"

"Yes sir! And might we add that we are not looking forward to it, sir!"

"No, I would imagine you are not. Now then, what Captain Pierson is holding is what we call a staff weapon. Its power core is a small amount of naquadah, approximately fifteen grams of it. Before any of you get the wrong idea, the staff weapon is not something we are willing to trade. Its only reason for being here is for the purpose of this demonstration. It fires a small amount of plasma, along the same lines as the standard PPG used by Earth Force and other governments. However, the amount of plasma it fires and the temperature of the resulting plasma is sufficient to burn through flesh and kill most any target with one shot. Captain Pierson, if you will proceed."

Pierson leveled the staff weapon at Ivanov and fired one bolt. The plasma seared through the outer layers of his uniform and burned through his chest, cauterizing the blood vessels as it passed into his body and rupturing his heart. Ivanov was dead before he hit the floor. What resulted from the shot was pandemonium until Ramos could quiet the assembly.

"Doctors, would you examine the body?"

"No need for it. Anyone can see that this young man is dead. Probably dead before he hit the floor."

"Yes. Quite. Now, if you would please place him in the sarcophagus, we will move on to the second part of our demonstration. The weapon Captain Pierson is now holding is our standard weapon for all ground forces aboard the Halsey. It is what you would call a slug thrower. That is, it fires a metallic round by using a propellant charge. One shot, well placed, can kill most targets effectively. If you will proceed, sir."

Before any in the audience could protest the action, Pierson let lose several three round bursts at Robertson. His shots were designed not to kill, but to wound severely.

"Doctors, if you would?"

"That may have been a primitive weapon, Admiral, but it did enough damage to this man. Without immediate treatment, he will die."

"Of course. Place him into the stasis chamber. You will notice, that unlike the cryogenic chambers you use, this one is much smaller and much more portable. It uses a small anti-grav impeller to keep it afloat and to allow a single person to move it to any location. The anti-grav impellers are also powered by naquadah. This demonstration was not so much of our killing powers or of our weapons technology, but rather of our healing technology."

He said nothing more for a few minutes, as if waiting for something to happen. Then it did. The lid of the sarcophagus opened up like two wings spreading for flight. Then a startled Ivanov sat up. After a few seconds of running his hands over his chest, he got up and out of the sarcophagus. Pierson and Scully moved Robertson from the stasis chamber directly into the sarcophagus and less than five minutes later the device opened again to reveal a completely healed Robertson.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you have witnessed here is the result of thousands of years of engineering. In the first case, a man who was dead by all measures your science can determine, was placed into the sarcophagus and healed and revived. Doctor Franklin, I am sure you will wish to examine both men to determine any ill effects of the device?"

"I definitely do want to examine them!"

"Good. I would have it no other way. On the modern battlefield, it is not always easy to get the wounded back to a place where your medical science can treat them. This is true of any civilization. However, the stasis chamber renders that argument moot. The stasis chambers can be used to keep the critically wounded stable until such time as your doctors can treat them, or in the event of catastrophic wounds, can place them into a sarcophagus for treatment. The sarcophagus can treat any type of wound, whether caused by a knife or PPG or slug thrower, or caused by some form of terminal illness such as cancer. But there is an unavoidable caveat to the device. Prolonged usage leads to mental instability and insanity. That level is not something we can pinpoint as it is based on an individualistic tolerance for the healing powers of the device.

"Another technology that we utilize is comparable to your own hyperspace method of travel. We too, use hyperspace, though it is as different to your own as night is to day. Using your technology, a ship creates an opening into the realm you call hyperspace, where distances are drastically shorter than in real space. Our method creates what is in effect a stable wormhole. However, unlike Gate based travel where the journey is nearly instantaneous, the sheer amount of energy required to create the ship sized wormhole necessitates the travel time be longer. For instance, the station is approximately 36 standard hyperspace hours from Earth, 44 standard hyperspace hours from Narn, and 48 standard hyperspace hours from Centauri Prime.

"Using our method of travel, those times would be cut to thirty minutes for Earth, and approximately forty-five minutes to either Narn or Centauri Prime. The caveat to this is that in order to generate the stable wormhole of this size, a special form naquadah is necessary called Naquadria. Naquadria is inherently unstable, and any trip longer than two thousand light years necessitates that the ship making the journey periodically drop out of hyperspace to allow the engine systems to cool. But other than that one minor detail, our version of hyperspace travel is much faster than your own.

"A way to offset this problem is to create what are essentially ship sized gates, similar to your jump gates. In fact, it may be remotely possible to convert your existing jump gate system to ship gates so that you can use the existing network of gates. Use of a ShipGate allows the gate itself to create the stable wormhole over vast distances, thereby negating the installation of hyperspace window generators on your ships. This may allow you to circumvent the need for new ship designs.

"Now then, are there any questions over what we have shown you? If not, then I will turn this meeting back over to Captain Sheridan."

"Thank you Admiral, for that very interesting display of your technology. I'm sure that everyone in this room has much to contemplate before the first negotiations commence at zero nine hundred tomorrow. As such, this meeting is adjourned."

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For the first time in several days, Marius returned to the Halsey to try and tackle the ever growing pile of paperwork on his desk. He had been at it for two hours when the chime sounded at the door to his office. With scarcely a look, he bade whoever it was to enter.

"Major Carter? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I have that proposal ready for you sir."

"Refresh my memory. Which proposal?"

"The one to use the wreckage of the Earth Force destroyers?"

"Oh. That proposal. Alright then, lay it on me."

"With the assistance of Commander Ivanova of Babylon 5, we have managed to identify the types of ships that make up the wreckage. None of the vessels are intact enough to just repair, but using bits and pieces in the debris field, we can re-create two Omega-class destroyers, an Olympus-class corvette, and most of one Hyperion-class heavy cruiser. I say most of the vessel because the engines were too damaged to repair. The rest of the wreckage, well other than using them for spare parts, there's not much we can do with them.

"However, if you approve of this plan, then we would have something more substantial to trade to Babylon 5 for the tech we want. What I propose is to use the sheer amount of metal in those wrecks to build at least two modified Prometheus-class battlecruisers for them. Modified in the sense that they would be home to their own Starfury fighters rather than to any of our fighters. With all the raw materials out there in orbit around the station, we can accomplish this rather quickly."

"That sounds like an excellent plan. How much time would you need and how large a construction team would you need?"

"How many ships are you planning on sir?"

"Let's call it two for now, with the option of two more, if the supplies are available."

"Well, if could borrow some of those maintenance bots the station uses for the task, I would say we could have at least one cruiser done in say two weeks. Doubling the construction teams, we could possibly build two at once. But we would need to send a couple of our own cruisers back to the asteroid field we first encountered to replenish our own stocks of naquadah and trinium. The amounts of naquadria necessary for the hyperdrives is not enough in of itself to warrant another trip to the asteroid field, but as long as the cruisers are already going there, it would not be a bad idea to obtain more. Back home, the only known source of naquadria is Kelowna."

"A valid point Major. Alright. Put together your teams. I'll arrange for the station to lend us say a dozen of their maintenance bots?"

"A dozen should be sufficient to the task sir."

"Very well then. Put together your lists and get them back to me by seventeen hundred today."

"Yes sir!"

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True to her word, Carter had gotten the lists of personnel needed back to him an hour earlier than requested. Marius had put in a call to the station to request the loan of twelve of the maintenance bots for a construction project and had been granted the usage of twenty-four of the little flying bots, along with a small maintenance crew to oversee their usage. Carter assembled her teams, briefed them on their tasks, and they went right to work. Marius dispatched the Dallas, Tollana, Ryan, and Cydonia to the asteroid field with the express task of mining everything they could find and bringing it back to the Halsey. The Dallas had been repaired fairly quickly after the encounter with the Earth Force destroyers some weeks ago and now her crew were aching to show off their battle tested skills.

It had been a little less than a month since they had arrived here. Marius wondered how things were going back home. He gave little thought that they would return safely. Tok'Ra had as much guaranteed that the majority of the crew of the Halsey would return safely. That he himself would return to his home, he thought not much about. If he had to die to ensure the safety of his people, his crew, then he would gladly do so, though he doubted he would die here and now. This universe may hold its own form of danger, but it paled in comparison to the threat of the Cylons and Anubis. He could hardly believe that there were any life forms in this universe, the universe of Babylon 5, that were bent on the total annihilation of all humanoid forms of life. Still, he supposed, the possibility did exist. He looked at the clock and wondered where he day had gone. In a few moments, he would be meeting with the tech negotiations team.

"Gentlemen, let's make this as brief as possible. It's been a long day, and frankly I could use a nice cold beer. So, Major Mulder, if you would start please."

"Sir. Our first meeting is with the Minbari. From them, we hope to gain three weapons technologies, their secret of stealth, their holographic display systems, and their ship building techniques. While they don't use a strictly organic armor for their ships, it is a close approximation and odds are pretty darn good, that said armor is Vorlon in origin. The armor structure of their ships appears crystalline in nature and can refract a fair portion of laser energies directed at it. It would make a fine addition to the hull of the Halsey and it would enable us to withstand several direct laser hits in the event our shields fail. In terms of weapons tech, we are asking them for their electro pulse guns, and their fusion and neutron cannons. The EP guns are a short range in nature and have an EMP effect on the target. That is to say, the 'projectiles' for want of a better word, of the EP guns cause electrical systems to go off-line for a short amount of time. That amount of time could be the difference in a battle."

"Very well. Dr. Jackson, what are your impressions of the Minbari? Will they be willing to trade these techs for what we have to offer?"

"I would say yes to that question. The Minbari are a very ancient race. According to their own history, they were building great cities when man was still moving about in nomadic tribes. They've been out in space at least eleven hundred years and are considered to be among the eldest of the younger races of this universe. Their society is broken down into three castes; warrior, worker, and religious. Their ruling council, what they call the Grey Council, is made up of nine members; three of each caste. There is also a leader who is chosen by the Council, but is not necessarily a member of the Council. The Grey Council does not have a governmental building on any world. They use a ship to move randomly from one colony to another so as to always appear where they are needed most. The honorific given to a Council member is Satai. From my research, I have learned that the identity of the Council members is not widely known. They rule from afar without the intervention of cult followings or the media. In some ways, I'd say that was better than our own form of government, but in others, well, there is always the possibility of odd rulings and laws. Their prime tenet is 'Understanding is not required, only obedience'."

"Very informative, Dr. Jackson. I look forward to your briefings over the next few days regarding the other races of this universe. Major Mulder, please stay for a moment. The rest of you may leave."

"You wished to see me sir?"

"Cut the sir crap, Mulder. I do not like titles. I use them, but I don't like them. In public call me sir or Admiral or even Mr. President. In private, you had damn well better call me Marius."

"Yes sir, uhm, I mean, Marius."

"Good. Now then, what I wanted to tell you is to hold off on the meeting with Sheridan until the end. Make sure it's the last meeting. I'm going to give them a little gift, that is, if Major Carter can work a miracle in the time required."

"Of course, Marius. I'll make sure they'll be the last set of negotiations. I expect each set of negotiations to last no more than two days. Three days tops. The Minbari are scheduled for tomorrow, followed by the Narn, the Centauri, and then the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. Odds are, probably the Vorlon and the Shadows at some point, unless you or Tok'Ra wish to handle those yourselves. Last will be Babylon 5. So maybe a week at the earliest before we meet with Sheridan and his people. Possibly as long as two weeks. Will that be enough time?"

"Two weeks will be good, Mulder. Now, if I'm not mistaken, I'm certain that the fair Major Scully will be eager to see you. Go on, get out of here. Relax for awhile before your meeting tomorrow."

"Anything you say, Mr. President."

Marius went back over Major Carter's plan and saw that she had thought ahead in the matter of secrecy. The first thing they would construct would be an enclosure, to prevent curious eyes from observing the construction process. All in all, things were going quite well, as far as he was concerned.

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Epsilon Three
Chamber of the Great Machine

After his visit with Lorien, Tok'Ra had traveled the stars, observing what had become of the many races the Ancient's had once taken an interest in. To his dismay, a number of them had gone the way of the Dodo bird, that is, they had become extinct. The Xon on the world called Centauri Prime had once held their interest but they were no more. Neither were the Dilgar. Or the Ikarrans. All had tremendous potential to become guardians for the younger races. But none had survived. Tok'Ra wondered if that were a good thing or not. He went to Orion VII to see a Flamebird as he had seen them once many millennia previously, but found none. So many things change with the passage of time, but he had not.

His journey brought him back towards the Halsey when he felt the calling in his Quickening. He flew onwards to the third planet in this system and down into the depths of the world. Here he found a great chamber filled with vast amounts of machinery. Machines that he did not recognize. The thought of this piqued his curiosity and he was drawn further into the machinery until he came upon a chamber where he guessed the Heart of the Machine lay. Within the Heart he saw a Minbari. This startled him to no end, so much so that he momentarily phased into normal view. The Minbari within the Great Machine awoke and spoke.

"I believe the Vorlons are known for asking 'Who are you', but I believe my question shall be, what are you?"

"I am Tok'Ra. I am of the race you may know as the Ancients."

"The Great Machine knows you and therefore I, too, know you. You are of what the creators of the Machine called the First Teachers. The ones who came long ago to this universe to teach and to guide. The creators of the Machine learned much from your kind. They used their knowledge to create the Machine."

"Why did they create the Machine?"

"The creators of the Machine, they knew what you would do with the Shadows and the Vorlons. They had the gift of knowing the future and they built the Machine to serve as a counter-point to what they saw would become of the Vorlons and the Shadows. They did was what necessary to shape the outcome. Time is far from linear. It is always in motion, and to make a small change at one point can create ripples in the time stream that will have effects; long-lasting effects in the present, the past, and the future."

"An effect of some event tomorrow has an effect on yesterday? How is that possible?"

"Time is not linear. It is a circle. Where you start on your journey is also where you end your journey. Though the players may be different, the circle remains. A thousand years ago, the Vorlons united some of the younger races and together, they fought the Shadows. Such was also the case a thousand years before that, and a thousand years before that as well. In each instance, the Shadows came, with their allies, to destroy the Vorlons and their allies. In each case, they were driven back to their world of origin, Z'ha'dum. And yet each thousand years, they return, stronger than before. The Circle of time repeats itself. And now, the first circle has been completed. The First Teachers have returned to this place, as was foretold millennia ago."

"Does everyone in this place speak in terms of prophecies?"

"It is a shortcoming perhaps. But it serves to remind the younger races of what is to come. It would not be wise to tell those alive today of the events of tomorrow. Instead, through the influence of the Machine, the future is told in prophecy. This is how it has always been."

"Minbari, you are even more cryptic than the Vorlons."

"Perhaps I am Ancient One. But you have far to go in your journey yet. And though you may wish to do so, you will not pass beyond the rim. There is still One among you that you must guide. You consider him a child, but he will be more than that. To the rest of your kind, those that have passed beyond, he will be the newness that you sought in your experiments so long ago. But, I have said enough for now. When the time comes, I will protect those aboard Babylon 5, as is my duty. And you, Ancient One, must do what you can to help young Marius to complete the new ships he now creates for Sheridan."

Draal had finished his long prepared speech and stepped back into the Heart of the Machine. There to watch over the universe and all its permutations of time and space. Tok'Ra, on the other hand, could do naught but stare at the Minbari and the warning he perceived in his diatribe. Perhaps it was not so much a warning as a blessing? It was impossible for him to decide. In all his travels and all his years in the universe, no, in the multi-verse, he had never come across one such as Draal and the Machine. It must be a tremendous responsibility, this watching over time and the multi-verse. Perhaps Lorien had been correct in his assessment. Perhaps the ones who created the Machine had been the Chosen of the Progenitors? He did not speculate further.

Tok'Ra rose up from the planet and looked long into the realm of hyperspace. He could see, several light years from this place, six fleets. Six fleets that would soon converge on the space around the station. Six fleets that he hoped and prayed would not open fire on each other. As he floated into view of the station, he saw the enclosed space dock where the Tau'ri were busily constructing two of their battlecruisers, and rebuilding four other ships. He perceived the design changes, those meant for Sheridan, those meant to house fighters of this universe. So he helped the project along some. With a slight manipulation of energies, vast sections of the ship came together. It startled the crews working on the ships, but one of them saw Tok'Ra hovering at the entrance to the enclosure and radioed the others to move out of the way.

Panel by panel and deck by deck, the ships took form. And when he was done, the ships were complete save for their innards. The engines were not there, nor were weapons or fighters, but Tok'Ra felt that he had done enough. The fleets in space were still a few days away. If the Tau'ri worked all of their shifts at the same time, they would finish the two cruisers in time.

Time. Though he existed outside its influence, not really aging, he was still keenly aware of its passage. Now he feared that there would not be enough time. Not enough time to do what was necessary.

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Admiral's Office
AIS Halsey
1430 hrs
Journey Day 35

"How did it go, Mulder?"

"Quite well actually. Things went along faster than we expected and we have concluded negotiations with the Minbari and with the Narn. From the Minbari, we will receive design specifications for their weaponry and stealth technology, along with their gravitic drive systems and their hull armor technology. In return, we have given them one set of working gates and a pair of DHDs from storage, along with the designs to build more and the designs for the ShipGates. We gave them, also, one naquadah generator for them to experiment on, and the plans to build more. As a bonus, though it was something that we also wanted, they gave us their holographic technology and to you sir, they gave a warrior's fighting pike. There are several additional pikes, one for each Immortal aboard the Halsey."

"That's mighty generous of them."

"There was one other thing they offered, but I had to turn them down. They offered to loan us two of their WhiteStar cruisers, complete with crews, but as I had no idea how we could get the crews back to this place, I had to turn them down."

"Contact their Ambassador, and ask if the offer still stands. If it does, accept it. We have a way to return the crews, but not the ships. Ask Ambassador Delenn if she would join me in my quarters later this evening so that I may explain to her just how we will return those crews. Ask her to invite Lyta Alexander, as this will concern her as well."

"I'll see to it immediately. As for the Narn, sir. We gave them the same items. They, in return, gave us two dozen working energy mines and the plans to build more. They also gave us some captured Centauri weapons, like their main battle laser cannons. Though these we did not ask for, they gave us in any case. As Citizen G'Kar put it, 'you have given us so much and have asked for so little that my government has authorized a few gifts.' After that he added the particle beam weapons plans that they use on their fighters. It appears to be the same type the Centauri use."

"Very well. What's next, Mulder?"

"The Centauri in the morning. Followed by the League Ambassadors. The League has chosen a Drazi, a Brakiri, and a Vree to represent their interests. Whatever comes out of the meeting, I will see to it that all of the other Ambassadors receive the same information, lest the 'official' representatives hold anything back for themselves."

"Very well. Get some sleep Mulder. Please tell Ambassador Delenn that I will be in my quarters on the station after nineteen hundred."

"I will, sir."

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Shortly after Fox Mulder left the Admiral's office, Major Carter appeared to give her progress reports.

"Sir."

"At ease, Major. Your report, please?"

"Sir. A short while ago, Tok'Ra appeared in the construction dock. I'm not sure how he did what he did, but save for engines, offensive and defensive systems and fighters, the pair of battlecruisers are nearly complete, along with the other four ships we were rebuilding from the debris. The full hulls are in place complete with all interior decks and rooms. All we have to do now is place the engines and the defensive and offensive systems. I've contacted the Forge chiefs, and told them to start building those systems. We expect to have the first engines in place by twenty-two hundred this evening. After the engines are in place, we'll lay in the reactor systems and all of the other minor internal systems. Hopefully by noon tomorrow, when the Forge chiefs are through building the offensive weapons and with the fighters, we'll be able to install those final systems. Without Tok'Ra's help, we'd still be laying keels, sir. He's taken a good month off the construction time. It just makes me wonder if he knows something we don't."

"God, I hope not Major. I'm getting kinda tired of his surprises."

"Me too, sir."

"You realize, Major, that when all this is over, when we get back to where we are supposed to be, that I'll go back to being a Major the same as you? So, at least in private, cut the 'sir' please?"

"Yes of course, Mr. President."

"Hmmm, maybe I prefer Admiral to that. Actually, all I want is to take a small ship and see the galaxy for awhile. I didn't want to become Admiral anymore than I wanted to become President. I was quite content, Major, in my lab with my experiments. That is, until a certain Air Force Major and Colonel showed up in my office, where with Presidential authority, you got to see my work. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't have insisted on a flying post rather than a research post. Maybe if I had taken that route, I'd still be blissfully unaware of all that has happened."

"Knowing you, Marco, you'd probably have been chosen for the 1st SFW. You'd probably still be involved with the fight. I looked up your flying records from the first two world wars. With records like those, you would have been a cinch to get into that wing. And of course, you'd still be involved in the Game."

"Too true, Major. Perhaps then, it was a good thing you and the Colonel came into my life. In any case, do keep me apprised of the construction situation. I have the distinct feeling that Tok'Ra wanted those ships ready a lot earlier for a reason. A reason that has me scared with the unknown."

"I will, Marco. If that's all, sir, I need to get back to my teams."

"That will be all Major. Dismissed."

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Babylon 5
Green Sector
1930 hrs

Marco had thought long and hard during the afternoon after Mulder's report. What he was about to give Ambassador Delenn could be used for good or ill, but he hoped that in her capable hands, she would use it for good. The quantum mirror is what the Ancients created so long ago as a way to move through the barriers between dimensions. In this case, the mirror was locked in one destination, the Immortal colony on Luna. He had a few of these mirrors, in a special vault in his quarters, a gift from Tok'Ra who told him he might have need of them. Certainly he could see the need now, or was it some unknown desire causing him to give this out? He had learned long ago to go with his first guess in a situation. To second guess himself invited trouble he did not need. He looked to his watch and noted the time just as Kyra announced the arrival of Ambassador Delenn and Lyta Alexander.

"Ambassador, Ms. Alexander. Please come in. Have a seat. May I get you anything to drink? Tea perhaps?"

"Tea would be nice, thank you."

"Anything for you Ms. Alexander?"

"No thanks."

Marius busied himself preparing tea for himself and the Ambassador while pondering just how he was going to bring up this particular subject.

"Now then, I'm fairly certain you two are wondering why I have asked you over this evening. The first bit of business we must discuss involves you Ambassador, directly, and you, Ms. Alexander, indirectly. Major Mulder told me you offered us two of your WhiteStar cruisers complete with crews, if we had a method of returning those crews, yes?"

"That was the offer I made. Do you have a way of returning those crews?"

"I do. Or rather, the Ancients do. Long ago, when the Ancients were beginning to explore the universe, they came upon a very real problem; their ships were slow and the universe was vast. So like any space fairing civilization, they set out to solve those problems. But instead of looking in only one possible direction, they examined three possible technologies. One of those technologies that resulted from their experiments was the Stargate system, which, I believe, Major Mulder and his staff traded to you earlier this day. The second successful technology was the hyperspace gate generator drive system we use in all of our ships. It is similar in concept to your hyperspace technology, except that we don't actually cross a dimensional barrier to enter hyperspace. Our engine technology works by creating a hole into subspace to circumvent the longer distances in normal space.

"The final technology resulted in something like this mirror here. When activated, the mirror opens a gateway between realities. A normal quantum mirror has a number of controls that allows the potential traveler to examine a number of different realities prior to entering the gateway. This mirror, however, only goes to one other reality, and that is my home reality. I will leave this in you safe keeping Delenn of Mir, so that when the time comes, your crews may be returned to you safely.

"Now then, Ms. Alexander. The reason for your presence here. I am aware that telepaths were created by Vorlon manipulation of your genetic material. That you were created as a weapon in the upcoming fight against the Shadows. But what will you do when the fight is done? I have seen, with my own eyes, the distrust of others when seeing a telepath. Now, it may be true that not all telepaths, or teeps, as I believe you term them, are distrusted. But it seems to me that the distrust works both ways. Telepaths no more trust mundanes than normals trust teeps. So here is an option for you, should the need arise. Go to Delenn, and ask her to use the mirror.

"You see, the mirror works both ways. Touching it here will instantaneously transport you to the Immortal colony on Luna in my reality. Touching the correct mirror there will bring you here. There is, however, a major catch to this. If there exists a duplicate of you in your intended dimension, the two beings will begin to experience what we call entropic cascade failure. Two identical beings can not exist in the same reality at the same time. I do not believe the Minbari crews will experience this as we have no Minbari in my home reality. But you, Ms. Alexander, and any other telepaths that so desire, may travel to my reality. If you experience no symptoms of cascade failure after ninety-six hours, then you will be given provisional permission to stay on Luna. After a period of six weeks, the Immortal Council will meet to discuss your arrival and at that time will decide whether to grant citizenship of Luna. Understand this, in my reality there are no telepaths, or at least none of your strength.

"The Tau'ri are only now beginning to explore the wonders of the human mind. But as to the Immortal mind, we know almost nothing. As you have seen for yourself, it is next to impossible to read an Immortal's thoughts or sense their emotions, unless of course, we allow you to do so. But you personally, may or may not decide to go. That is entirely up to you. I am merely giving you the option of doing so."

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Babylon 5
Command and Control
Journey Day 45

Marius was in Command and Control to present a gift to Captain Sheridan and the forces of his resistance movement. Marius was certain that Sheridan suspected what the gift might be, but he was unsure if Sheridan knew or realized its full import. So now the two of them stood in front of the window looking on into space in front of the massive station known as Babylon 5.

"Captain, your friendly neighborhood Vorlon, Kosh, mentioned something to me once. And it took some time for what he said to become clear in my mind, but it did, eventually. I will say this, Vorlons are nothing if not obscure in their speech. It may be clear to them and it may serve their purpose to be vague to the younger races, but I find it easier to speak plainly. So let us speak plainly. In the past few minutes, two of three gifts have been delivered; one to your official office, and one to your residence. Kosh mentioned to me your fondness for oranges and the smell of orange blossoms. To this end, on behalf of myself and the crew of the Halsey, we have given to you two pairs of dwarf orange trees.

"The remaining gift is about to appear."

Marius spoke into the radio secured to his vest at about the level of his left shoulder. Seconds later he pointed to Sheridan and bade him look at the dock enclosure floating in front of and to one side of Babylon 5. As he stared at it, he saw the 'front' doors cycle open and the protective shields of the dock drop. A vessel began to come out of it, but when he looked more closely, this time on the view screen, he saw that it was in fact two vessels. These were of the smaller battlecruiser class of ship used by the AIS.

"Captain Sheridan, on behalf of the Alliance of Independent Systems, I present to you two vessels of the Prometheus-class for your use. There have been some minor modifications made to these two ships. First and foremost, we have included the same type of weaponry found in the WhiteStar-class vessels. Secondly, the hangar bays have been reconfigured to support your shuttles and fighters instead of our shuttles and fighters. The ships utilize our form of supra-luminal travel; the Hyperspace Window Generator. There is one sarcophagus aboard each ship along with five stasis chambers. These technologies we have already given to you if only in the form of design specifications.

"Lastly, and this is for your ears only. If you choose to share this information, well, it will be entirely up to you. Both ships have been equipped with force shields, and each ship has a smaller version of the Halsey's forge deck, so at the very least you will be able to make more fighters and effect emergency repairs without the need for docks or stations. Additionally, the Prometheus-class battlecruisers are atmospheric capable. That is, the ship can safely enter an atmosphere and land on a planet. Major Carter, who headed the engineering and construction teams, reported one extra that she included in the construction process. A partial-bay that will allow a WhiteStar to dock with the carrier. The size of your WhiteStars is such that they are too big to dock with the carrier. So she has made something that resembles a mold, for lack of a better term, where a single WhiteStar can dock into and transfers can be made more easily. The smaller WhiteStar has to be docked in what is essentially an upside down position to facilitate a transfer point between the carrier and the WhiteStar."

"Captain! Hyperspace sensors indicate a large fleet preparing to enter Babylon 5 space!"

Lieutenant Corwin had no more finished uttering these words when a fleet of Earth Force destroyers jumped into Babylon 5 space. A large fleet. But before anyone could utter another word, a second fleet jumped into B5 space; a Centauri fleet. For an instant that felt like an eternity to all concerned, no one did anything. Then both fleets began launching fighters. Then, it was as if all hell had broken loose on B5.

"Mr. Corwin! Launch all fighters and have them hold near the station!"

"Yes Captain!"

"Well, Sheridan, it looks like this could be a bad situation for us all. We will, of course, do everything in our power to save B5."

"I think we're going to need a miracle."

"I think, Captain Sheridan, that miracles need to be our stock in trade this day."

As Marius finished his comments two more fleets jumped into B5 space.

"Shit. I think I spoke too soon. Marius to Halsey!"

"Halsey here. O'Neill speaking, Marco. You see what we see?"

"Affirmative Colonel. How many of our crew are on the station?"

"Major Mulder and his team, yourself and your guards, and four hundred others on shore leave."

"Initiate recall for all personnel. Colonel, Jack, I think we should use the Asgard protocols for this one."

"Ya think? Ok. Stand ready."

"Admiral? What are the Asgard protocols you mentioned?"

"You'll see them in action in a bit here Sheridan."

And so saying, Marius felt himself ensconced in an Asgard transporter beam. A split second later he was standing on the bridge of the Halsey. Sheridan and the crew who had been a moment before looking at Admiral Ramos were shocked by the appearance of the white beam that surrounded the Admiral and whisked him away to someplace. It was something they had never imagined possible. Teleportation. In their wildest dreams, they had never imagined this. It was something the people from the Halsey had taken great care not to show to the inhabitants of this universe. But with fleets from Earth Force, the Centauri, the Vorlons, and the Shadows in B5 space, it was necessary.

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AIS Halsey
Bridge

"Sensor officer, report!"

"Sir. Earth force vessels first. Twelve of their Omega-class destroyers, six Hyperion-class heavy cruisers, six Nova-class dreadnoughts, and ten Olympus-class corvettes. For the Centauri fleet, there are fifteen Primus-class battle cruisers and twelve Vorchan-class warships. There are approximately thirty-eight Vorlon vessels of various types and classifications unknown to us, and fifty-five Shadow vessels, also of various types and configurations. Both the Earth Force vessels and the Centauri ships have launched fighters, but they are holding near their respective ships. B5 has launched all of her fighters and those are holding near the station."

"All right people. Let's do this one by the numbers. Mr. Jameson, sound general quarters. Colonel O'Neill, might I suggest you get to the launch bays? I'm going to need a level head controlling the squadrons."

"On my way."

"Sir. Emergency beam-outs are completed. All personnel now back aboard the Halsey."

"Weps, shields to full and charge all weapons. Sensors, give me as much detailed information on those ships as possible. Find their weak spots and feed that to Weps."

"Aye sir."

"Affirmative. Shields at full. All weapons charged and standing by."

"Flight bay reports ready to launch at will."

"Launch all squadrons, but keep them close to the Halsey. No one is to fire unless so ordered by either the Bridge or the wing commanders."

"Attention carrier vessel Halsey. This is General Lefcourt of Earth. You are ordered to stand to and prepare to be boarded. You have five minutes to comply."

"Attention vessel Halsey. I am Lord General Marrago of the Centauri fleet. You are ordered to stand down and prepare to be boarded. You have five minutes to comply."

Both messages were received simultaneously. And the response was just as quick, though it did not come from the Halsey.

"Human and Centauri ships. The Halsey is under our protection. Any attempt to board her will result in your complete and utter destruction."

"Where did that come from?"

"I believe it was the Vorlons, Admiral."

"And what are the Shadows doing?"

"Unknown sir."

"Centauri and Human vessels. The Ancient is under our protection. Do not harm the Ancient."

"I guess that answers my question. Comms, open a channel to all vessels and to the station."

"Channel open sir."

"Attention. This is Admiral Ramos aboard the AIS Halsey. For the moment, we have a stand off. The Halsey would be hard pressed to defend itself against thirty-four Earth Force ships. The same is true for the twenty-seven Centauri vessels. But I have a feeling that even both of your fleets combined would not stand a chance against either the Vorlon fleet or the Shadow fleet. And possibly for the first time in the history of this universe, both the Vorlons and the Shadows are acting as allies. I propose the following. A representative from each fleet present to meet with the Ancient aboard Babylon 5. If this agreeable, then please signal your intent."

For several tense moments, no one spoke. General Lefcourt, aboard the EAS Midway, had never in his military career been faced with such a situation. Yes, he had fought in the Earth-Minbari war and before that in the Dilgar war. But on those occasions, the Centauri had not been an enemy. Had it just been his vessels against the Halsey, he was sure that Earth Force would win. But it wasn't just his force against the Halsey. In the span of the last few minutes, that plan had gone completely and utterly to hell. Oh well, he thought and remembered, no plan survives contact. It was one of the many unofficial rules of combat that were just as true now as they were when first written centuries before. Attributable to some grunt named Murphy as he recalled. He signaled to the Halsey his agreement of the meeting and a moment later he screamed as the Asgard transporter beam grabbed him and brought him to the station.

For his own part, Lord General Marrago had faced countless enemies and lived to tell the tale. He had thought it would be a simple thing; to take this ship and steal its secrets. But his fleet had jumped in a few tens of seconds behind an Earth fleet. The did not know, of course, of the presence of the Earth fleet. Seeing so many of the Earther's vessels in B5 space had, for a moment after they jumped in, startled him to his very core. But now, with both Vorlons and Shadows there to protect what they called the Ancient, he knew in both of his hearts that he could not win. So he would agree to this meeting. A few seconds after he sent his agreement to the meeting, he felt the Asgard beam grab him and he felt something he had not experienced since he was a child on the home world; fear and awe.

The Vorlons and Shadows were quick to agree to the meeting and they shortly found themselves in the grip of the Asgard transporter beam. A second later and they stood in the Council chambers within Babylon 5.

Marius walked into the Council chambers with Sheridan, Delenn, Mollari, and G'Kar in tow. The Immortal Strike team was now standing guard in the corridors leading to the Council chamber. No one would interfere with this meeting.

"General Lefcourt. Lord General Marrago. I am Admiral, no, I will give you my true name. I am Gaius Marius Augustus, President of the Immortal Council and child of the Ancients. And while it may be a boon to your sensibilities to deal with me, this particular meeting is not about us, at least not entirely. We have in this room, representatives of the major players in this universe: the Centauri, the Humans, the Narn, and the Minbari. Of course, we also have the Shadows and the Vorlons. I would think, that everyone else in this room is considering this a once in a lifetime sort of event, to be in the room not only with a Shadow, but also with a Vorlon. And not just any Shadow or Vorlon. We have here with us the two rulers of those empires, and their appointed designates aboard the station. But as I already said, this meeting is not about the younger races, it is about the elder races and for that I have to turn over this meeting, for now, to Tok'Ra. For while I am a child of the Ancients, Tok'Ra is an Ancient."

"My thanks to you Marius. I can not recall ever being introduced in such a manner."

Lord General Marrago and General Lefcourt, had not previously been informed of the existence of the Ancients or their children. So the pronouncement by the man, this Gaius Marius, meant nothing to them, though the name did tweak a memory within General Lefcourt. And so when Tok'Ra appeared within the room, as a golden fog of a cloud, semi transparent and semi opaque, with particles of denser looking matter in eccentric orbits, well, it would be safe to say that both men considered themselves to be way in over their heads.

"Vorlon and Shadow. Shadow and Vorlon. You have come a long way since my people were last here. Has it been so long for you that you no longer remember what it is to be considered a younger race? In your time, when your races were young, there were the First Ones to follow, and there were us, the Ancients, the First Teachers, to learn from. But, it seems as though our methodology was in error, for you have greatly disappointed us, and that is something that we must strive to correct.

"And if we had a few thousand years, we would do so, but that will not come to pass. I am of the race you called the Ancients. When the others of my kind were here among you, they saw in you great potential. Potential to lead the younger races who would follow you. Perhaps you would help them avoid the mistakes you made? But that is not important.

"Over the course of centuries, my kind gradually left this place. In terms you would understand, they passed beyond the rim, which is a highly eccentric way of saying that they evolved. I remained, as did one other. To finish what we started so long ago. But I did not remain here. I returned with the others to our home, and you, dear Vorlon, you chose to try and follow. Though we made sure that the technology for crossing the dimensional barrier was inert, you chose to take it and study it. And what did your studies yield? Tell me Vorlon? Did you close the breach before you unleashed unto this universe a terror heretofore unseen? Don't bother answering as the question was rhetorical in nature.

"And when all was said and done and the Ancients had left his place, you Vorlons, and you Shadows, came to our outpost world. You went there with the full intent of trying to stop us from leaving, but you were too late. Vorlon, you saw the device we used to cross the dimensional barrier and you took that, along with two other technologies. Technologies, I might add, that your Shadow counterparts also took from our outpost world. Technologies that we created to terraform worlds, you bastardized and corrupted into weapons. So, while I could ask you to stop using those technologies, I highly doubt that you will."

Tok'Ra paused for a moment, as if to catch his breath, and the Vorlon leader spoke; its voice a pleasant sounding harmony of flutes and bells.

"Why did you leave us, so long ago? Perhaps it would have been different had you stayed."

"We left. It was not anything that you did. We left to counter an enemy that was beginning to take a foothold in our home space. In that respect, we, the Ancients, failed miserably. The war against this enemy is ongoing still, though we Ancients do not fight in it. The responsibility of protecting the younger races has fallen to our Children. When we left, so long ago, you were already heading down the path that would divide your two races permanently. Already you were considering the philosophy that you would use to guide the younger races that were just beginning to make their presence known. We came here, a quarter of a million years ago, and the next to the last of our kind left this place a mere fifteen thousand years ago. And even then we were fighting skirmishes with our enemy.

"And while you, as an elder race, gave your younger charges the option of advancement through introspection or advancement through strife and conquest, this other elder race in our home universe saw all of the younger races as toys. They saw them as things to conquer and rule over, as objects to enslave. They certainly did not see them as equals. And they still do not see the Tau'ri as equals. The humanoids in our universe serve the enemy as foot soldiers in their armies, as slaves in their cities, as living incubators for more of their kind. Had they been able to travel to this place, I daresay, that both Vorlon and Shadow would have united to fight this enemy. For while you may be their elders, you do not seek to destroy them on a whim, nor do you seek to enslave them or force them to worship you, though that last part can be extensively debated, for I have seen the manipulations of their psyches to your benefit. They respond to you with either awe or fear, as you have conditioned them to respond, but, and I believe this sincerely, that is entirely different from treating them as slaves. For while they do look up to you in some degree, they also possess some extent of self direction. The Goa'uld of our universe do not allow this self-direction."

"First Teacher, we would never believe ourselves to be so superior that we would make the younger ones worship us."

"I believe, for the first time, that I must agree with my Vorlon counterpart. We strove to do as your kind taught. We strove to guide the younger races to where they could take our place among the stars as we took over for the First Ones so long ago. We sought to guide and to teach, not to enslave and destroy."

"But there you failed Shadow. Yes, you did guide and yes, you did teach. But you taught only your way of life, only your philosophy for advancement. And the Vorlons share this fault as they taught only their philosophy. But for any civilization to grow and mature into something that can be held up as an example to a younger race, there has to be compromise between the two divergent philosophies. Your races are powerful, but together, you could have been so much more to this place. Together, you could have been someone we, the Ancients, would have considered an equal. Apart, you are but one more failure among so many of our failures."

The room was quiet for a time, perhaps two or three minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to those in the room, particularly those of the younger races. Never in their lives had they thought to speak to either a Vorlon or a Shadow in such a fashion. If the Vorlon encounter suit could show emotion, it would have flinched at the rebuke given by Tok'Ra. Sheridan could swear he did see the Shadow flinch when Tok'Ra called it a failure. He could almost imagine tears coming down the face of the Shadow. He had been on the receiving end of similar speeches when he was very young. This was the type of speech a father might give to his son. And when he looked at it closely, he guessed that's how Tok'Ra must be feeling, as a parent to the younger races, whether of this universe or not.

For her part, Delenn would have died of embarrassment for the way Tok'Ra spoke to the Vorlon High Chancellor, the leader of the Vorlon Empire. She cared not for the veiled and apparent insults leveled at the Shadow, as she had always considered the Shadows to be her enemy. But the Minbari had been around a long time, and had been associated with the Vorlons for most of that time, since at least the time of Valen, if not earlier. And so they, the Minbari, had learned over their close association to read the movements of the encounter suits. But even then, it was a risky thing, to presume to know the mind of a Vorlon. But just now she did presume to know, and that feeling was echoed by Draal, on the planet below, watching the events unfold on the station. Though no one could ever prove such in a court of law, the Vorlon had not only flinched, but he had nearly fainted from the sheer pain at the realization of what the First Teacher had just said.

G'Kar had always been a man of philosophy. Had he been born on Earth, odds are he would have been a new age Socrates or Plato. He was a philosopher to his very core, but that could have been a result of the Centauri occupation of his world. What else to do but sit and watch as so many of your fellow citizens are tortured or killed? What else to do but watch as your once bountiful forests are clear cut and their stumps destroyed? What else to do but watch as the mineral wealth of your world is strip-mined and the beautiful and life filled seas of your world are drained dry? What else indeed! He had joined the rebellion and they had eventually cast the Centauri off their world, but it was a stricken world. His experience had taught him many things, not the least of which was his outlook on life. He understood philosophy. But it is easy to philosophize when your race is among the most powerful, if not the most powerful, in the known universe. It is not easy, however, to learn how your fleet was destroyed by this supposedly all powerful race and to learn that your ancient enemy, that you have cast off your world, has come back, if only to enslave you once again. No, being in the presence of such greatness as was in this room; Sheridan and Delenn, the Vorlon leader and the Shadow leader, even the creature known as Tok'Ra, such was enough to either drive one insane or drive one towards reflection. It was good that he was already driven towards reflection.

Mollari, on the other hand, was not a man given to philosophizing, not unless he was drunk. But like any Centauri in recent history, he knew of the Vorlons. The fact that he, Londo Mollari, also personally knew of the Shadows was inconsequential. What mattered here was how Centauri Prime, and more importantly how he, could benefit from all this angst thrown at both the Vorlons and the Shadows. The truth of the matter was simple. Tok'Ra, feeling his responsibilities of a parent, had returned to chastise his errant children. But when he left, to go back to where ever he claimed to be from, the two wayward children would go back to what they had been doing for millennia; guiding the younger races as they saw fit.

So while so many were having such divergent thoughts at the same time, the Vorlon and the Shadow were looking, first at one another, then at Tok'Ra, and then back and forth. Neither had been spoken to in such a fashion in much longer than they cared to admit. Before they could answer to the charges levied them by Tok'Ra, the being in question spoke again.

"I don't expect either of you to change your ways. That will come soon enough. And I don't expect either of you will cease to use the weapons that you claimed from us, however, I would like something in exchange for that which you have taken. Both of you took the same two technologies from us. I ask this, not on behalf of the Ancients, but on behalf of my Children and their protectorates. For you see, where we Ancients tried to adopt you and teach you our ways for dealing with younger races, we created life in our home universe and charged them with the protection and guidance of the younger races. And while your two races have been in what amounts to a Cold War for a thousand years, our younger races have been at war with or enslaved by the Goa'uld for at least ten thousand years. Frankly, they need every edge they can obtain if they are to rid my home galaxy of this scourge called the Goa'uld. So, without my telling you which technologies I wish to obtain, will you give them to me?"

"For the First Teacher, the Vorlons will give all that is asked."

"First Teacher, you honor us with your request. We will give what is asked."

"Excellent! I venture to say that your organic ship technology is too far in advance of even my Children, but perhaps in a hundred thousand years, they may be ready for it. And if you decide to give that technology to me, I will hold it in trust for them until such time as I believe they are ready for it. But what will prove most useful to them is the armor your vessels use, particularly the self-healing abilities. And if you would be so kind as to each of you give your best beam weapon to my Children, then I will have to change my opinion of you. In coming together for this task, to not only give the specifications and theory behind the weapons, but to install a pair of each weapon on the vessel Halsey, in coming together you will have reached the gestalt of our teachings. In working for a joint cause, perhaps not one of your own, but joint nonetheless, you will have finally taken those early teachings to heart, and you will have finally learned the ultimate lesson. So, what say you?"

"It will be done."

Both Vorlon and Shadow spoke at once. It was an occasion that, odds were, would not be repeated. At least not until the younger races stood up to their guides. But that was still in the future and for now, it was a different thing. Sheridan pulled Lefcourt aside and explained that Babylon 5 had negotiated for the technologies of the Ancients. He went on to state that Earth would receive those same technologies only after Clark was removed from office, but until such time as that happened, Lefcourt and his fellow Clark supporters could expect to see small but heavily armed ships holding the line against the dark. Mollari had sought out Marrago and had informed him of the successful negotiations that had secured several of the Ancients' technologies. That was an unknown fact to the Emperor and both saw that as a way to get around the Emperor's decree. Neither of the men had any desire to be executed by the Emperor, a man which they both believed to be quite insane.

After Tok'Ra was done with both the Vorlon High Chancellor and the Shadow leader, those two were beamed back to their respective ships and Tok'Ra faded from view. The lesser races gathered in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. Marco took the opportunity to speak.

"Well, I think that went well. It's rather difficult to tell actually. I still haven't learned how to read the various movements of the Vorlon encounter suit, and I doubt I will ever understand the myriad eye expressions of a Shadow, and I haven't been around Tok'Ra long enough to read the patterns in his cloud. So, if neither the Vorlon nor the Shadow fleet opens fired on anyone else in the next few minutes, then I'd have to say we came out of that pretty well."

Those in the room paused for a moment, as if listening for weapons fire.

"Well, I didn't hear anything. I hope that's a good sign. I'm going to assume for a moment, that Ambassador Mollari and Captain Sheridan have told the two naval leaders in this room that they were quite successful in negotiating several new technologies from us. Am I correct?"

"You don't miss much Admiral."

"You are correct."

"Well, I am wondering at the moment if you would be amenable to re-opening negotiations for the moment?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, considering that we plan to spend a bit more time here integrating these new weapons systems into the Halsey, I propose to use our Forge Decks to build a few things for your governments, and in return I'd like one additional item from your governments, if you are able to provide that.

"For the Centauri, we will produce one full wing of your standard Sentri fighters, with two minor modifications; trinium armor and naquadah generators. While trinium is a rare metal in our home system, it is rather abundant here, if you know what you are looking for. The replacement of the standard three and a quarter centimeter thick armor with an equivalent layer of trinium makes your Sentri fighter able to withstand several direct energy blasts. The naquadah generators, these you already have the plans for, will boost the duration of your fighters by four times their current amount. In return, we would like either one Vorchan or one Primus class vessel, and, if at all possible, a number of what you call blockade mines, so that we may study a working example in addition to examining the schematics that we have previously negotiated for.

"For Babylon 5, while we realize that you do not speak for the Earth Alliance, Captain Sheridan, we are willing to make a few additional trades with you. We will take all of your Thunderbolt fighters aboard and replace their standard micro-fusion reactors with naquadah generators. Additionally, the four primary plasma pulse cannons will be swapped out with the standard multi-barreled rail guns that our own fighters use. Lastly, we will convert the hard points to our standard and equip your station with enough missiles to see your fighter squadrons through several dozen engagements. The missile I am speaking of is the SIM-182 Venom, with a range of one hundred and twenty kilometers. Replacing the plasma pulse cannons with the rail guns frees up the necessary power to fire the heavy particle beam at a faster and heavier rate of fire to the equivalent of six pulses per second.

"In return for these modifications, we request the remaining amount of debris in the system, left over from the battle with the EA forces when we first arrived. Also, we'd like a few working maintenance bots, and three working Construction Fury's to study.

"If the Representative of the Earth Alliance is willing, we will give to them, what has already been given to the station in terms of medical technologies, in exchange for any one of your ships out there, or for one of your long range tender ships. I believe they are Cotton-class?"

Marco moved away at that point, to allow the various persons in the room to discuss the little speech he'd just made. In one corner of the room, Sheridan was showing Lefcourt the imagery recorded the day of the 'show and tell' presentation on the medical technology. And in another corner of the room, Ambassador Mollari was doing his best to convince Lord General Marrago that parting with one small ship would more than offset the price these humans were willing to pay. The modifications alone to their Sentri fighters would mean that they could taken on even Minbari fighters and come out alive. After a short discussion that threatened to become rather heated, Ambassador Mollari informed Marco that the Centauri answer would be forthcoming shortly. The two Centauri men left the room at that point.

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An hour later, Marco was called to the quarters of Ambassador Mollari.

"Ambassador. Lord General. Have you had time to discuss my proposals?"

"We have Admiral. Marrago has graciously consented to trading one of his Vorchan cruisers, though he can not offer you any of his crews."

"That is quite acceptable, Ambassador. I will order my crews to begin production on the updated Sentri fighters immediately."

While Marco spoke with the Halsey, Marrago bade the others good day and went out for a much needed drink in private. When Marco was done, Londo Mollari asked him a rather serious question.

"Admiral, where ever it is that you are going, is there any hope of return? What I mean to say is, if I were to send someone with you, dare I hope to ever see them again?"

"There is hope of return Ambassador. That hope lies with Delenn of Minbar, for she alone has been entrusted with the knowledge of the method of dimensional travel. Why do you ask?"

"I, well, I have a nephew. Carn Mollari. My future is a dark one. I am well aware of that. But if I can spare him this pain, perhaps he can return in due time to resurrect what is left of the Centauri Empire, and if not, then perhaps he can begin anew in your home universe?"

"One man can not start a colony by himself, Londo. Surely you are aware of this?"

"I am. The Vorchan can hold a crew of eighty. Even that is not enough to start a colony. But I have contacts on the Home World. There are many Centauri, male and female, with no family ties, that would give anything for a chance to start anew some place else. There is one person, a woman, who is very dear to my hearts. I fear that she may be used against me. She was due to arrive on the station in a few weeks, but I will ask her to come now. I will find you a crew for the Vorchan, and I will find you as many colonists as is necessary. Give me a number, Admiral?"

"We can safely carry perhaps a few hundred, no more than a thousand. That should be enough, no?"

"More than enough. I will work as quickly as possible. Call it five days from now?"

"Five days Ambassador. I can delay our departure that much. Perhaps six days. And now, Londo, I have many details to attend to. I must bid you good day."

"Good day, Admiral."

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One Hour Later
Private Quarters of John Sheridan

Marius had hoped he hadn't pushed things too much with his requests, but already the Centauri had given him one of their ships. He hoped that General Lefcourt would do something along similar lines.

"Captain Sheridan. You wished to see me?"

"Before I say anything else, I wanted to thank you for the gift of the orange trees. Both my quarters and my office have never smelled better. Now, about the request you made to Lefcourt, I must confess that I didn't expect it. But after I showed him the video of the demonstration you gave, and after his CMO had a chance to speak with my CMO, well, he was pretty agreeable to almost anything at that point. But still, the last thing I expected him to give up was a Nova-class Dreadnought! Even if it is one of the oldest ships in the Earth Alliance Navy. He said his CMO told him the schematics to the stasis pod alone were worth the cost of a Nova. Lefcourt balked at that supposition, but his CMO went on to state that a working stasis pod would be worth a Nova or three. Now mind you, I didn't show them the sarcophagus, but the stasis pod alone was enough to make their mouths water.

"So Lefcourt sweetened the deal. He threw in a Cotton-class tender, and I gave him two more stasis pods. Unfortunately, the pods I gave him were the ones on the station, so if you could replace those for me?"

"You're a tough bargainer. I'll order my ship to transfer over an even dozen pods. So, tell me about my new ships?"

"The Nova-class is among the oldest still serving ships in the Earth Alliance. It first entered service in the 2220's, and its kind saw action against the Dilgar and against the Minbari. It has twenty-two heavy twin plasma cannons, six heavy particle beams and two missile launchers. In contrast, the Cotton-class has almost no armament, and is designed to support the fleet vessels in deep space. It has four medium duty dual pulse cannons, and fourteen light pulse cannons, designed more for anti-fighter duties than for fighting other ships. I would not recommend leaving this vessel unguarded at any time. The Cottons can bring up to three Novas alongside at any given moment and re-supply all three in under twenty four hours. The Cotton has a crew of 35, versus a crew of 250 for the Nova, but where the Nova has hangars and troop berthing spaces, the Cotton has twice the mass and twice the internal volume of a Nova."

"Like I said, Captain, you are one hell of a bargainer. I thank you for the additions to my fleet."

"Well, I'm not as good as all that, Admiral. General Lefcourt insisted on keeping the supplies aboard the Cotton, and all of the weapons, fighter and other equipment aboard the Nova."

"Oh I think I can find something to put in there."

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A day later, both the EAS fleet and the Centauri fleet had left B5 space to return to their home space. Lefcourt had many things on his mind, not the least of which was a different perspective of President Clark. Marrago had in his hands one of the technologies that the Centauri Ambassador had bargained for. The rest would be presented to the Centaurum and to the Emperor just as soon as Mollari had tied up some loose ends on the station. Even the Narn, dreadful creatures that they were, had acted magnanimously toward him, though he guessed he deserved no such feelings. The fact that they too were possessed of the same technologies of the Ancients that all of the other major younger races now held custody of never entered his mind.

The Vorlon and Shadow fleets had withdrawn as well, leaving three of each fleet behind, one vehicle housing their respective leadership, one escort vehicle, and one construction vehicle. The latter craft were responsible for constructing the pair of large beam weapons that they had agreed to give to the Halsey. It would be up to Major Carter and her engineering teams to figure out the appropriate interfaces and power systems. For now, and until such time as those interfaces and power systems were completed, the beam weapons were strapped and welded to the fore part of the Halsey's structure, just forward of what was considered the main bridge, though in truth, Halsey had several bridge decks.

A week passed before the weapons were completed and then it came time to say their good-byes and farewells, though in retrospect, Marius had already done so. He had given the two Prometheus class battlecruisers to Sheridan in the hopes that he would assign one to Ivanova. Marius was aware that she had been tasked with finding the remaining First Ones for their upcoming fight and he was also aware that the power systems aboard the Prometheus were of an Ancient design. That is to say, the signature of the energy patterns emanated by the drive systems would cry out to any First One and convince them that this younger race should at the very least be listened to. Marius had left an eyes only coded message for Sheridan and Ivanova aboard the ships. What did those messages include? Simple really.

The two battlecruisers, except for the fact they had Minbari weapons as their primary offensive batteries, were exact copies of their AIS counterparts. The same long and mid range torpedo and missile tubes were installed. The same gravimetric drives were installed. The same ring transport systems were installed. Each ship's medical bay had one sarcophagus and five stasis tubes. Marius had already briefed Sheridan on the other modifications, such as the inclusion of the force fields on these two ships. The last thing the message stated was the location of two additional dimensional mirrors, one on each ship, in an unused storage closet. The mirror should be used as a last resort escape device and it was tied directly to the ship. Should the ship be damaged and abandoned or damaged and captured, the mirror would self-destruct. It was a device of last resort, the ultimate escape pod.

In the week that construction had been ongoing, the eight escort battlecruisers had made the journey to the asteroid field of Kelowna more than a dozen times, filling the holds of the AIS Nightingale, the Cotton-class tender, to capacity. The Nova had been named the AIS Normandy, but the two WhiteStar-class heavy cruisers were as yet without proper names. The weapons systems of the Normandy had been replaced by Goa'uld plasma cannons, Colonial pulsars, and Tau'ri rail guns. A full compliment of Starfury fighters had been built, along with all of the orbit-to-ground shuttles that such vessels normally carried. Major Carter's engineering teams went so far as to add several dozen turrets that would house SIM-182 Venom missiles, so that both the Nova and the Cotton would have a larger anti-fighter capability.

The lighter calibre weapons were removed from the Nightingale, and replaced with heavier duty rail guns. Both the Nova and the Cotton also got shield generators added to their arsenal of defensive measures.
The two WhiteStars retained their weaponry, but were given the Ramos force shields to bolster their defences.

The Centauri Vorchan-class attack cruiser, the Centaurum, also underwent a quick and dirty upgrade of its systems. Naquadah generators were added to the ion cannons already in place, increasing their power by two orders of magnitude. The sixteen twin particle arrays that were used as anti-fighter defences were augmented by small calibre rail guns and Venom missile turrets. Twelve missile launchers were reduced in number to eight to add room for four additional mine launchers. Ambassador Mollari had been true to his word, and the day before they were to depart, a full crew of ninety Centauri Naval personnel had arrived at B5, along with sixteen hundred Centauri colonists. Carn Mollari, with a hasty promotion to Captain, was given command of the Centaurum.

Major Carter and her engineering teams had worked wonders on the destroyed remains of the Earth Force ships that had attacked Babylon 5 when they had first arrived in B5 space. From the debris scavenged, two Omega-class destroyers, and one Hyperion-class heavy cruiser had been built. A smaller Olympus-class corvette had been scrapped to provide the metals necessary to complete the Hyperion. One of the Omegas was christened the Scylla, the other, the Charybdis. The Hyperion was christened as the Bellerophon. Gone were the rotating sections on the two Omegas. The use of gravimetric engines negated the need for rotational sections. With the three ships now entering service in the Alliance fleet, and with the massive amounts of berthing spaces now available on the three ships, the Centauri colonists were transferred to the Charybdis.

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Journey Day 53

"Halsey to Babylon 5. How copy over?"

"Reading you just fine. Traffic has been cleared for your requested departure point. There is an ancient Egyptian saying on my Earth, Halsey. 'May God stand between you and evil in all the dark places you must walk.'"

"We have a similar phrase on our Earth. The only difference is in the first two words. Our phrase begins 'May the Gods.' Such a small difference between our universes. Aveo amacuse, Captain Sheridan. Noo ani anqueetus."

The communication from the Halsey was cut and Sheridan looked at Ivanova each wondering what the final phrase had meant. But now they looked out at the Halsey as the massive ship styled and began to move away from the station. The earlier Vorlon and Shadow escorts had left the previous day and now with their work done for the moment, the Halsey too, was leaving. Sensors indicated the ship moving at better than eight-tenths that of light speed. Such an amazing drive system to move something that massive so easily. They watched now, from their long range ships, as the Halsey opened a wormhole and an instant later disappeared into it. They stared for several moments at the screen, thinking that perhaps they would return. To have such a ship at their side when they went to fight the Shadows would be a good thing. But that was not to be. Sheridan looked up from his musings to see Kosh standing beside him.

"Ambassador?"

"Aveo amacuse, First Teacher."

"What does that mean and in what language?"

"Aveo amacuse. Good bye. Noo ani anqueetus. We are the Ancients. It is the language of the Ancients. The ancient circle is complete. What once was, now has been. The new circle has been restored. All is as it should be once again."

The Vorlon walked off, leaving a much confused Sheridan and Ivanova in his wake.

"It looks like things are back to normal, Captain. Or at least, the Vorlon Ambassador is back to talking in riddles."

"Commander, as long as I live, I doubt I will ever understand the Vorlons."

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Elsewhere on the station

"So is everything ok now?"

Squeaks and chitters. And something that sounded oddly like a wail.

"The First Teacher has left. Your prophecy has been fulfilled and it's back to business once again, right?"

This time there were no answering squeaks or chitters. This time, the Shadow Triad revealed itself and spoke plainly to Mr. Morden.

"Yes."

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AIS Halsey

"Mr. Jameson, sensor report if you please."

"Sir, no traffic within ten light years of our target departure point. All systems show green across the board."

"Thank you Mr. Jameson. Engineering, are you ready?"

"Ready sir. Full power available as you need it."

"Very well then. Let's get this show on the road. Power up the dimensional projectors."

Those on the bridge looked out to the stars as the fore mounted dimensional projectors fired a stream of charged particles at the fabric of space opening what looked like a wormhole to those that had heard of one, but unlike a wormhole to those that knew what one should look like. Instead of the silvery watery surface of a standard wormhole, this one appeared red and angry, like a maelstrom out of Hell. Then the ship entered it and all became white.

They emerged into a field of nothingness. There was nothing in sight. No stars. No planets. No dust. Nothing.

"Sensors?"

"Nothing sir. Not a damned thing."

"Uhm, Tok'Ra?"

"Yes Marius. I have done this. There exists in the many dimensions something that you can refer to as 'null space'. It is a pocket dimension between dimensions, a sort of dimensional rest stop, as it were. Here, time has no meaning. By your measure, it will seem as though time has stood still. You can spend as much time here as you need, to integrate the Vorlon and Shadow weapons. You will need them where you are going. I suggest you also integrate the Minbari crystalline hull plating. It will give you an advantage where you are going. You have all the time in the world here. I said once before that the projectors have the power to open the dimensional barriers a total of eight times. This will allow you to rest between the most trying of missions and will allow you to integrate any new technologies you acquire into the Halsey."

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Days passed becoming weeks. The Forge decks were busily churning out new hull plating for the Halsey, this based on the Minbari energy-refractive crystalline hulls used on their ships. The hulls had the ability to 'learn', that is if it took damage from a particular type of weapon, then after it repaired itself it would 'know' how to avoid more of the same type of damage.

Major Carter learned that the power requirements for the Vorlon and Shadow beam weapons were beyond enormous and she guessed that tying them into the ship's systems would be a bad thing. So she and her team designed a new generator deck and basically remodelled several sections of deck near where the weapons had been strapped and welded to the hull. Rather than make one large generator to power the four beam weapons, the engineering teams created one generator for each weapon and a pair of backup generators for each 'primary' generator. Her engineering teams designed and built the mounting brackets for the new beam weapons as well. Both the Vorlons and the Shadows had given to the Halsey one pair of their best beam weapons. Sheridan had called the Shadow weapon a Slicer beam and the Vorlon weapon a Grand Cannon. So Carter had decided that two new weapons stations would have some degree of control over the weapons.

As each weapon had its own power source, each one could be fired independently of the other. This meant for a new fire control system on the Bridge. Carter's engineering teams also designed and built a moveable mount for the beam weapons and the weapons could now be traversed across an arc of sixty degrees horizontally, and vertically of five degrees. And rather than join Slicer beam with Slicer beam, the team decided to pair Slicer beam with Grand cannon. It would make for a devastating one-two punch against any enemy.

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Continued in Part 2