Story Timeline: Takes place between seasons 8 and 9, but Jack is on this mission. Allows for some flexibility in the timelines of both SG-1 and SGA, in that SGA's Letters from Pegasus has taken place during this time and the SGC has received at least preliminary reports from the Atlantis expedition.

Summary: New allies bring with them a potential find of a lifetime in the guise of a planet made by the Ancients. However, the discovery comes with a hefty price as the shield holding the world together is failing. Faced with a seemingly insurmountable mission, SG-1 is left to try and save the planet before time runs out.

Story Notes: I like to believe that Sam has the brilliance to take an invention and refine it over the years, and while the naquadah generator is not strictly something she created, it is likely she continually tried to perfect it. With that in mind, I have taken some liberties with established canon on the functions of the generator and Sam's ability to repair and monitor its function.

Crellum Mare

Colonel Reynolds had warned them about the unpredictable power outages that would plunge Crellum Mare into a murky darkness. Had warned them of the sudden wall of silence that followed and was quickly swallowed by cries of confusion and fear, but no matter how often it happened or how ready General Jack O'Neill thought he was, there was just no escaping the brief surge of fear that had him instinctively reaching for his P90 when the lights went out. Irrational, yes, but this was unfamiliar territory and Jack hadn't quite made up his mind just how trustworthy the Yahut people were, regardless of Reynolds' assurance they appeared honorable. Despite the faith Jack had in the men and women under his command, he placed a whole lot more stock in his own gut-instinct over second-hand intelligence.

Around him, cries of fear and surprise punctuated the air as people stumbled around in the dark, falling over each other and anything that was in their path. Somewhere off in the distance, Jack could just make out the high pitched shrill of a child crying and calling for his mother, only to be silenced just as quickly when the lights suddenly snapped back on.

"Are you harmed, General?" Only a few feet away and leaning heavily on a nearby wall, First Leader Zolan of the Yahut looked pale and a little shaken, his breath coming in short, barely audible gasps. When they'd first met, Zolan—a short, dumpy man with an impressive receding hairline and a bottom lip that seemed permanently droopy—he had radiated an air of self-assuredness. It was a false bravado, an act of superiority intended to leave no doubt about his leadership, but Jack didn't have to look too hard to see the man was starting to buckle under the stress of command.

Taking directional cues from the Yahutian First Leader, Jack had deliberately played up his role as interested diplomat in the absence of Daniel, who was off in another part of the city, likely with his nose in some dusty tome and holding an in-depth study of comparative cultures with the local historian. The Yahut weren't exactly living the simple life Jack craved. What technology they did possess took an apparent backseat in their lives— a necessity for survival, but not a crux to dominate their lifestyle... so the first leader had explained with the slightest muscle twitch in one cheek. Only, Jack was fairly sure that shaping clay and weaving baskets was, in this case, a by-product of a life lived easily thanks to the technology of a race the Yahut knew very little about.

"I'm good," Jack replied with a quick nod and a smallish smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. "You?"

"I am fine, though I must admit our power issues are becoming more and more unsettling."

Jack couldn't tell if the man was naturally nervous, but it seemed to him from the moment they arrived in Crellum Mare, Zolan's mood had swung from relaxed to, at times, verging on panic; an emotion Jack could well relate to at this moment.

SG-1 had only been planet-side a short time when what Carter was now calling a power hiccup had occurred, plunging the city into a brief moment of darkness. Zolan's nervous reassurance that they were in no danger was well timed with the lights coming back on, and only just enough to convince Jack he should hold off from having the team retreat back through the 'gate to Earth.

"Your Colonel Reynolds, he explained our situation to you?"

Reynolds had done a fine job in his briefing, putting forward the concerns and needs of the Yahut with as much detail as the short visit to PC4-192 had afforded SG-3. But what the man had failed to convey with any adequateness was the sheer majestic beauty that was the Yahut city.

Now, Jack had seen some amazing things in his life: Architecture that was both bewildering and beautiful and vistas that made the seven wonders of the Earth look like sandcastles on a beach. However, Crellum Mare, its buildings interconnected to a central body and floating miles under the ocean, almost made a mockery of such wonderment and left even the most travelled visitor in awe of its beauty.

The ceilings inside the central building were impressive; leaving the best aquariums on Earth in their wake for sheer engineering ability. Curved with an elegance that was the hallmark of Ancient architecture, the roof hung above him like a giant balloon full of aquatic life, almost ready to burst. Colored seaweeds swayed across the surface of whatever the dome was made from, revealing a variety of marine life hiding among its tendrils. Every so often light would shine through the display, hitting the surface and bouncing a myriad of colors onto the floor below. Jack could only guess the light was coming from the distant sun in this system.

According to the report tabled by SG-3, Minitos—so named by its current inhabitants—was little more than a ball of water hanging in space, its mass held together by a planetary-wide shield. The look of pure and unabashed excitement on Carter's face had pretty much lit up the briefing room, but quickly paled when Reynolds handed the post mission briefing over to his 2IC, who's shit-eating grin took a backseat to Daniel's when the man brought up the first of a series of digital still on the walls lining the Yahut gateroom. Ancient script almost as far as the camera could record. The walls instantly reminded him of Kheb, the thought of which elicited a headache. No good had ever come from messing with the Ancients.

Hammond's famous words "SG-1, you have a go" popped into Jack's mind at about the same time his brain and mouth decided to betray him, and he ended up inviting himself along for the ride.

SG-1 had predictably fanned out the moment they exited the 'gate and disposed of the welcoming formalities. Zolan, presenting himself with all the dignity of a politician, quickly introduced Daniel and Carter to their Yahut counterparts, leaving Jack and Teal'c to finish off the pleasantries. A quick getting-to-know-you session later and Teal'c had wandered off to explore the city, citing a need to know the layout of the land as a perfect excuse for leaving Jack to play his part as the mundane politician. Sometimes he hated being the man.

Jack pulled himself from his musings when he caught Zolan's patient smile, the man's question still hanging in the air. "He mentioned something about your people having problems with the equipment that powers this place." Truth be told, Reynolds' report did a little more than make note of the problem, but Jack only took from the briefing that which concerned him most, leaving the technicalities and cultural aspects to his premier team.

"That would be putting it in simple terms, General." Zolan ushered him forward and more fully into the larger of the city segments and on to what Jack figured was the fifty cent tour, taking in what few compartments were still in working order. There weren't many.

The segments were uniform in construction and each roughly the size of a small warehouse; a few slightly larger than the rest. Brushed metal walls were hidden behind single-tiered living complexes, no more than six or so to a compartment, each sharing a common meeting area where families would mass and children could play under the watchful eye of their parents.

Outwardly, the confines seemed perfectly idyllic, if not a little sterile in places where the population's attempts at creating a more homely environment had fallen a little short—featureless walls breaking through what Jack figured were wall hangings fashioned in the traditional colors of the Yahut. Blue seemingly a constant among offworld nomadic tribes. He smiled to himself at the thought.

"The shield that encompasses our world and holds in our ocean is failing." Zolan paused to acknowledge a group of passing women, arms heavy with baskets of what Jack assumed, from the rich aroma, was freshly baked bread. "Each day," he continued on as they walked, "our situation grows dire, more desperate, and I fear it is only a matter of time before the shield fails completely. As you have already witnessed, the falling power levels are also affecting our city. We have been left with little choice but to close down most of our living quarters, forcing families into more confined areas in the hopes of reducing our power consumption."

Carter, to her credit, had her scanner out from almost the moment they'd dispensed with meet and greet, and was gracious enough not to look overly panicked at the figures whirring past on the machine's tiny monitor. Jack knew, though… the look in her eyes told him well enough that the city was in trouble.

"See what you can do," he had told her after two more power fluctuations followed the first in alarmingly quick order. A stiff nod and wry smile later, she was being ushered out of the main complex and into the city proper by one of the local engineers. A surge of pride caught Jack in the chest at that exact moment; the realization his team knew each other so well after all this time together, that there was virtually no need to issue orders.

Daniel was next to leave, and the rather animated conversation he had been holding with the Yahut historian almost made Jack laugh. One hand on his hip, the other resting comfortably on the top of his P90, Daniel resembled more of an at-ease soldier than an historian in the field. It had taken the better part of a decade, but somewhere in the history of SG-1, Daniel had finally found an identity that defined him. He now wore the skin of both a soldier and a scientist with equal ease.

Jack broke from his pensiveness and frowned at how easily he'd lost his concentration. "You've got a Stargate. What about moving your people to another world? Might be a safer option for the time being."

Zolan visibly bristled at the suggestion. "This has been our home for many generations. Tell me, General, would you not fight to save your homeworld if there was even the remotest chance you could succeed?"

Giving the question only a fleeting thought, Jack shrugged. "Fight, yeah, but only if I was sure I could win the battle. According to Colonel Reynolds, your people came from somewhere else and settled here when you discovered the city was uninhabited."

"We were once nomadic, yes, but the need to roam ended when we discovered Crellum Mare. It has been our home ever since."

Jack cast his gaze around the cavernous room once more and couldn't help but agree with the Yahut's choice to want to stay here. The digital recording Reynolds had played back for them at the briefing left no doubt that at least the central complex was Ancient in design, showing a clear likeness to the city of Atlantis the Pegasus expedition had recently sent back to Earth.

"I assume you do use the Stargate?" he said focusing back on Zolan. "I mean, considering this city is underwater, I'm guessin' farming your own produce is a bit of an issue."

"If you're asking if we trade with other worlds, then yes, General, we do. Moving my people to a new home—and there are plenty who would shelter us—is an option of last resort. We simply do not wish to move."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that," Jack said with more sarcasm than he'd intended; a fact that wasn't lost on Zolan, whose posture turned from mildly relaxed to defensive the instant the words slipped out. Spotting the other man's reaction, Jack waved towards a group of women gathered nearby around a bank of work benches just inside the entrance to the city. "The local knitting club in action?"

"Knitting?"

Jack shrugged off the query. "What are they doing?"

"They are working clay," Zolan answered neutrally. "Many among my people are gifted artists and sculptors, talents that are favored greatly on the countless worlds we trade with. Obtaining food and daily necessities has never been an issue for us in the past. In fact, quite a number of our population have families spread throughout this sector of space, yet another reason why we have never had difficulty establishing trade. We are not without our means."

Jack cringed internally, taking in Zolan's hurt tone as a reaction to his own lax attitude. This was by no means the first time the SGC had established contact with a culture in danger of being wiped out for one reason or another, and if his opinion was worth a damn to these people, he would have had them through the 'gate well before now. Unfortunately, Zolan's stubbornness was a universal trait and probably a side effect of having ruled unchallenged for a long time. He'd seen the same tenacious attitude with Hedrazar and the Enkarans, and wondered at what point these people would push aside their pride in favor of survival.

TBC