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."
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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"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."
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"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!"
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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."
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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."
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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!"
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"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!"
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.'
----------------------------------------
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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A Stargate: SG-1 Fanfiction Site
Potential
by TexanKapitel Bemerkung:
The previous chapter was backstory for the overall Potential series. This next chapter introduces the major players, and a few minor ones, and sets the stage for later chapters.Site Navigation
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