And it's a relaunch... again. SGD New Brunswick was a scattered mess, and after a few months of sporadic updates I'm wiping the slate clean with a new name, new format, and much more direction.

SGD Aftermath is set after the Ori War, following a wide variety of perspectives as new discoveries, new friends, and new enemies are made in a time of great change and fragile peace. The new format consists of diverse but connected arcs grouped into one story in rough chronological order.

Almost every story written as part of New Brunswick will be reworked and posted as part of Aftermath. Some of the planned ones have been dropped and some new ones have been added. Updates likely won't be as frequent or consistent as The Remnan Exchange but I'll try to keep this active if there's interest.

2008
Colorado Springs

As they had many times before, SG-1 convened in a quiet corner of O'Malley's Bar and Grill. The bar had become a busy spot after Disclosure, popular among personnel stationed at Cheyenne Mountain as a place with good food and few questions. Most of the other diners were also off-duty personnel and filled the air with a multilingual din. A reporter had shown up earlier, but like many of the staff was ex-military (she had been a heavy in Iraq) and refused to let him in the front door.

"So, we've got two weeks off coming up," Colonel Samantha Carter broached, placing her knife and fork down on her now-empty plate. "I'll admit I'm still getting used to actually having time off once in a while."

"Well, it'll a good chance to catch up on some of my projects," Dr. Daniel Jackson, PhD, answered. "I've been putting together a paper on Asgard influence on Norse... it's really fascinating stuff, basically."

Vala Mal Doran, who was oddly close to the archaeologist beside her, exclaimed, "I'm going to bother Daniel for the whole time!"

Daniel sighed and shrugged.

"Teal'c, what about you?" Sam asked after finishing her beer.

He answered simply. "I plan to visit O'Neill in Washington. Then I shall return to Chulak and spend the remainder of my allotted time with Rya'c and Kar'yn."

"You know, Sam, you never actually told us what you were going to do," Daniel pointed out. He attempted to take another drag from his bottle of beer only to find it was empty.

"Well, I was hoping my dad would come and visit, but he's occupied with, and I quote, 'Tok'ra business'," the Colonel answered with a shrug. "I have some things to take care of here on Earth, anyway."

"It's a strange world, isn't it, Sam?" the drunk Daniel asked rhetorically.

She smiled. "Yeah."

AFB Cheyenne Mountain

General Jack O'Neill spun the pen in his fingers, idly realizing the irony of such an old instrument in such a progressive time.

He could hardly believe it had only been two years since the War. It seemed like a lot longer. He'd watched the world change in unimaginable ways. The Stargate was out in the open, a united international force was behind it, and they had a fleet of cool ships now. Holodecks were real, new sources of energy replaced the old dirty ones, mass fabrication was a major growth industry and immortality was closer than ever.

Yet, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Not as much had changed as he had hoped, and not all the changes had been positive. Nationalism was on the rise again, the politicians were spinning in circles trying to get anything done, the poor got poorer and the rich got richer. The golden age of prosperity they all imagined seemed very far away indeed.

But hell, they won the War! And to the military man in him, that was all that mattered.

Part of him didn't want to let go. Just because the War was over didn't mean the world was safe. Far from it, in fact. The Milky Way was in a tense peace backed by a fragile balance of power. They had their slice of the galaxy, the Free Jaffa had theirs, the Jade Empire another, the Lucian Alliance patches here and there, and every minor goa'uld and warlord their own. In Pegasus, only apathy kept a galactic war from breaking out. Ba'al was happy with his territory, and they were satisfied to watch as human worlds were ruthlessly culled.

Sooner or later, something was going to give. There were signs that it was already happening. Border skirmishes, primitive planets changing hands, deniable acts in enemy territory. Maybe he should stay on to deal with the inevitable shitstorm.

But... no. He was getting old, he was damned tired, and he could finally do something he'd wanted to for a long time. He'd saved the world countless times, there were tons of people far more qualified than he on the job, and he had other things he wanted to do way more.

General O'Neill signed the letter tendering his resignation, effective immediately. His job was done and it was time to pass the torch.

Washington

General Hammond waited for the Secret Service agents to check him over before entering the Oval Office. One of them opened the door, the General stepped through, and she closed the large wooden slab behind him.

"George, have a seat," the President Henry Hayes said casually, tipping a glass of amber liquid in the General's direction. His jacket was on his chair and his tie nowhere to be seen. "How was your meeting with the Council?"

The General sighed. "It was very frustrating. Half of them want the gate to stay where it is, half of them want it moved, and half of them don't seem to have an opinion at all. I was hoping you could put in a good word."

"I already have. They said they were considering it." Hayes chuckled darkly. "Can I offer you a drink."

"I'm not supposed to drink while on duty, but with the President's permission..."

Hayes opened a wooden cabinet made over a hundred years ago- one of the few relics salvaged from the original White House- and removed a wide, clear glass. He poured it half full from an open bottle sitting on top and handed it over. "You look like you could use it."

Hammond nodded sagely as he sat down on a large leather sofa. "There are times when I wish we were still at war, because then at least we'd be able to get our shit together."

"Oh, I know the feeling," the President said with a laugh. "Have you thought about retirement?"

The general took a long drink before answering honestly, "It's on the table."

"You've certainly earned it," he agreed. "Whether I like it or not, I'm out of here in half a year."

"And your successor?"

"I wish them all the best," Hayes said, a hint of humor in his voice.

Hammond nodded, taking another drink. The aged whiskey burned pleasantly as it went down. "Any favorites?"

"That senator's got spirit, I'll give her that. I like John on the other side, but I'm not sure about his reputation. Paul I'm not sure about, Sarah there's something off about." He swirled his almost-empty glass. "I guarantee that any of them will regret being President soon enough. Anyone who wants this job has no idea what they're in for."

"Do you?"

"Honestly, George, most of the time I feel like this job is killing me," the President admitted. "But we made it through some of the worst times and some of the best times this country's ever been through, and I'm proud of that."

"You'd rather be a wartime President and not the one to lead the nation into a new golden age?" the General asked.

"Well, I got the ball rolling. They might even start the colony on Eridanus before my term is up." He smirked. "But no, that's a job for someone without all the cynicism."

Midway Station

"Truthfully, Executive Hagan, there is little my people can offer yours. Most of our technology cannot be reproduced by your industry. In many cases even our own ability to do so is limited. I am afraid we have nothing left to discuss."

High Councilor Helia cut the connection and sighed. Soon, she would return to Atlantis, and one of the other councilors would take over the trying, but crucially important diplomatic role aboard Midway Station.

Originally a wartime expedient consisting of little more than two stargates, a generator, and an open frame to connect it all together, Midway Station had been rebuilt and extensively expanded after the War. The gateroom was much larger and equipped with security doors, automated defenses, and the ability to jettison a gate if necessary. On one side was the control room and living quarters and on the other was a staging area with large elevators. Two long arms extending perpendicular to the stargates contained passageways and cargo railways, servicing docking arms, cargo areas and hangar bays. Subspace arrays jutted out from each side of the station and a large Asgard-designed power and shielding module sat on top. It was the gateway between galaxies and a symbol of what disparate peoples could accomplish together.

The Lanteans had built part of the station and shared a few offices and a conference room with the Asgard and the Nox. That section had been nicknamed Nova Heliopolis by one of the human denizens of the station. At first she had found it insulting; a blunt reminder of what they had been reduced to. Over time, she began to find the name endearing. It was not Heliopolis, but it was a start.

She supposed that was symbolic of the Four Great Races and her people in general. They had fallen far, but they were getting back up.

Atlantis

"So, you made Governor," Colonel John Sheppard said, joining their leader on a balcony outside of Atlantis's main tower.

"I do prefer it to General," Elizabeth Weir replied. A stainless steel mug of tea sat in her hands as she leaned casually over railing. "It's still sometimes hard to believe that we're a real colony now."

"Been what, five years?" Sheppard asked. He added, "Give or take."

She smiled. "Well, five years isn't that long, but it sure has been a busy five years."

"Don't I know it."

Lantea had changed, and from their position they could literally see it. The city of Atlantis itself was alive, many of its stately towers occupied and lit up brightly against the night sky. The glow of Aquarius, once an Asuran city and now occupied by the last known living Ancients along with a small Nox and Asgard contingent, was faintly visible on the horizon. A shuttle zipped toward them on its way back from the mainland, where a string of settlements lined the coast. Once little more than refugee camps, they were now hubs of life occupied by displaced peoples from Pegasus along with colonists from Earth and pioneers from other worlds in the Milky Way.

"I heard there's a promotion coming for you," the Governor mentioned. "Along with a new position as overall military commander in the Pegasus Galaxy."

"Yeah, honestly, I'm not sure if I want that job," he admitted quietly. "Right now it's peacetime, which means a lot of paper and a lot of politics. And if war does break out, well..." He cocked his head slightly.

"Technically I had that job once. You'll do fine, John," Elizabeth said reassuringly. "I can't think of anyone more qualified for that position."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he replied earnestly.

"I'll tell you, being in charge of thousands of colonists is a lot different than being in charge of hundreds of expedition members," she mused. "I remember when it was just the Athosians living on the mainland and we were alone in the galaxy. But now... well, I just finished a conference call with High Councilor Helia, Larrin is visiting tomorrow and next week I'm touring the settlements on the mainland."

"Oh, Larrin. She'll keep you on your toes, I'll give her that," Sheppard idly remarked. "You don't like this?"

She smiled. "No, I love it."

AFB Cheyenne Mountain

"Chevron one encoded."

The General reflected on his career as he watched the dialing sequence through the control room window. He'd been around. He flew helicopters briefly in Vietnam before drastically changing direction and becoming a fighter pilot. He'd survived a harrowing experience in the jungles after being shot down, as well as still-classified operations in Grenada, Kosovo, and the Gulf War. This was a far cry from any of that.

"Chevron two encoded."

When the Stargate had been revealed to the world, he assumed he would have little to do with it. Sure, the world would change, and he'd gain or lose from it, but he'd probably never be involved in the program itself. It had been an awfully naive assumption. Once the Ori War began, everyone in the Air Force became involved in one way or another.

"Chevron three encoded."

Then he got a call from his daughter saying she was going to another galaxy. His own command had been dissolved as units were hurriedly rerouted to fight the Ori. The drawdown after the War left him and many others in a confused position as the Air Force attempted to reorient itself to the new reality. When he was offered a position at Stargate Command, he took it, to his own surprise.

"Chevron four encoded."

He was given a new rank and commission, but technically he was a USAF officer seconded to the AESF... sort of. Like nearly everything to do with the hastily-organized AESF, the situation was complex and he still didn't fully understand it. The priority back then had been on getting things halfway functional as quickly as possible, and he had a sinking feeling he would be one of the ones responsible for cleaning it up.

"Chevron five encoded."

It was an open secret on the base that General O'Neill was headed for retirement. He knew Jack O'Neill- everyone did, but they'd actually crossed paths before. On top of being famous around the world and a holder of the Medal of Honor, he was actually a good officer. It was a shame the man was headed out, but anyone could tell he was tired. If anyone deserved a break, it was O'Neill.

"Chevron six encoded."

Heading up the base would be a monumental task and he knew it. Today, only routine supply missions were scheduled, but that would soon change. They would be back into exploring the galaxy and fighting Earth's enemies soon enough, and it was something he both looked forward to and dreaded. There were rumors of shakeups in the AESF and he was sure that he would be the one to deal with getting them actually implemented.

"Chevron seven locked!"

But in the meantime, they had a job to do, and Major General Hank Landry would make sure it was going to get done.