Stargate: Ragnarok
Baptism of Fire, Part 1
Chapter 1
The late autumn sun had long since set on Hereford as the silver Land Rover approached. The heavily customised Defender 90 crunched over the gravel as it turned into the driveway, it's headlights sweeping across the black Audi saloon parked in front of the house, briefly illuminating it's two occupants. He didn't recognise either of them, and after driving for most of the day, it did little to lighten his mood. Sighing and muttering under his breath, he turned the ignition off, grabbed the newspaper and duty free carrier bag from the passenger seat and climbed out of the vehicle, his breath misting in the cold air.
Almost immediately, the occupants of the black executive car did the same, both men straightening their clothes while never taking their eyes off him as they headed his way. Hearing his car lock and the alarm chirrup, he continued walking to his front door, wanting the outside light behind him so he could properly see the newcomer's faces.
"Are you Major Taylor? Major David James Taylor?" the first man said. He was standing a few metres away, his arms hanging by his side almost like he was ready for something to happen. His partner stood a few metres beside him in a similar stance.
"Who wants to know?" Taylor replied, his tone even and disinterested. He didn't have any true weapons on his person, but he was tightly holding a bunch of keys that could be useful, and he knew he could swing or grab the bottle of scotch in the carrier bag in a second if need be. If it came down to it, he didn't necessarily need weapons to defend himself.
However, he couldn't be sure the men were unarmed. Their jackets were loose and long enough to easily conceal weapons much more potent than his – clubs, knives, pistols or worse. Paranoia, he'd found, was a useful survival trait, and given the things he'd done in his long service in the United Kingdom's special forces, he had every reason to suspect the worst of strangers. Especially suspicious looking strangers who waited outside his house late at night for him to come home from a week-long rock climbing break in the south of France.
"I'd like to see some ID, sir." The man continued, his hand reaching out expectantly.
"Likewise." Taylor said, his muscles beginning to stiffen. If they were hitmen, they were being monumentally certain of getting the right target.
Glancing at his partner, the man reached into a pocket, and pulled out a small, laminated credit card sized piece of plastic. Taylor took it warily, turning so that he kept the two men in his more motion-sensitive peripheral vision while he studied the identification card under the security light.
"What can I do for you, Captain Pearson?" Taylor said, relaxing slightly as he handed the man's ID back and reluctantly presented his own. "Ministry of Defence hasn't wanted a damn thing to do with me for months, and I'm inclined to return the favour. Why now?"
"I don't know, Major. All I know is I'm to hand these documents to you, and only you, in person. We've been trying to get hold of you for a few days. Can I ask where you were, sir?" Pearson said, returning Taylor's identification.
"MoD made it clear they wouldn't touch me with a ten foot barge pole and that my career is as good as over, and I still don't know why. So maybe I didn't want to be found. I generally find being halfway up a cliff outside Marseilles is a good way of doing that."
Pearson turned and nodded at the other man. Taylor watched as he reached into his jacket and produced an unmarked and yet extremely official looking reinforced manilla envelope. He made Taylor sign for it on a PDA before handing it over.
More out of paranoid habit than anything, Taylor waited for the two men to return to their car and drive off before he opened his front door and disabled the burglar alarm.
Taylor trudged into the sitting room and turned the television on – the channel was rarely changed. He listened casually as the newsreader droned on about government budget cuts, another sporting defeat for England and the incredibly uninteresting developments in a Z-list celebrity's life. Faced with this, Taylor went to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.
He kept eyeing up the envelope sitting on the work surface next to him. Half of him wanted to resign on the spot, leave it unopened and try and find some other avenue of life to focus on, despite only ever knowing the Army since he was seventeen. Right now, only the possibility of finding an explanation for SG-27's mysterious ejection from Stargate Command, it's subsequent disbandment and his treatment by the MoD stopped him from becoming a civilian.
Cautiously, he set the drink down and opened the envelope, studying the contents for several minutes and noting the distinctive Ministry of Defence paper. He stood there for a while, thinking, occasionally rereading the crisp and officious language. There was plenty of detail, but very little information beyond travel plans and time scales.
After a few minutes, he began searching for his mobile phone.
"Hey, Tom. It's me. Yeah, you too. Is it? Sorry, only just got in."
He checked his watch and winced silently as he listened.
"Yeah, I know I've been spoiling her, but hey, that's my job, right? Glad she liked it. Heh."
He pulled the sheet of paper over to him with his free hand while he waited for a natural break in the conversation. He summarised the salient points of the orders in his head: RAF Brize Norton, fourteen hundred hours, two days from now.
"Listen, Tom…something's come up. I'm being posted overseas in a couple of days, so basically – yep, again – so basically, the house is yours if you need it. Well, I'm thinking it'll get you away from Dad, and you'll be close enough for Em to visit at weekends, right? Oh, I dunno – ten, twelve months?"
The event horizon burbled and undulated peacefully, completely unaffected by the strong, cold wind tearing at the Stargate or its surroundings. The puddle rippled and the first figure stepped through, taken by surprise by the strong current in the air. Several more followed, the wind carrying several profanities away as they too struggled to stay upright.
"Bravo team, stand down. Elliot, Czerny, Meade, give them a hand with those bags." he just barely heard a Mid-Western accent shout over the gale. Three US airmen slung their rifles and moved from behind the concrete barriers to assist the newcomers with their luggage.
"Now, I've got to admit – this isn't at all what I imagined." Taylor said, gazing at the sight in front of him.
Though the veil of threatening grey cloud and cold wind were all too familiar, the land around the Stargate was completely different from how Taylor remembered it. The local vegetation, alien analogues of bracken and heather, had been incinerated and cleared in a large area and underneath it the fractured black volcanic rock of the ground had been smoothed and levelled.
"Wow…it's almost like being back in Afghanistan." Llewellyn said. Despite the obvious differences in the landscape, weather and vegetation, Taylor agreed. Ahead, all he could see were Hesco bastions, Bremer walls and Jersey barriers – the wide fortification in front of them had the same temporary modular construction used to build so many forward operating bases in the recent conflicts in the Middle East. However, there was a sizeable gap, almost the size of a football pitch, between the Stargate and the defensive line.
With a practised eye, Taylor quickly surveyed the defences, tensing involuntarily at the sight of so many weapons trained on him. Standing behind moveable concrete barriers, the combined American and British defence teams were incredibly well equipped. Besides their standard assault rifles, several of them wielded multiple shot grenade launchers, light machine guns or manned heavier static weapons – all aimed at the tract of bare cracked rock between them and the Stargate.
"Bloody hell. .50 cals, Miniguns, AGLs, AT-4s...that's one hell of a welcoming committee." Jarvis muttered, similarly impressed and intimidated.
"Major...out there." Moffatt said. Taylor followed her pointing finger, looking further out, deep into the currently rust-coloured alien heather that rippled under the ceaseless onslaught of the wind. He wasn't remotely surprised that the eagle-eyed medic and biologist had been the first to see anything.
Now that Kelly had pointed them out, it was very easy to see the numerous heavy weapon emplacements covering the gate from further afield, most of them dug in amongst the alien vegetation and covered in camouflage netting. There were Rapier SAM sites, Javelin anti-tank launchers, and he thought he could make out numerous concealed mortar positions.
Slowly at first, the team began moving away from the Stargate and towards the gap in the defensive line as the three armed and armoured US airmen walked towards them to relieve them of their luggage.
Grateful for the assistance, they headed towards whatever lay behind the three metre high wall of upright concrete slabs.
"Why do I get the impression I'm being watched through at least half a dozen sniper scopes right now?" Halverson said uneasily as their boots crunched over the rock, glancing sidelong at the relatively distant hills that flanked the shallow valley.
"Probably because you almost certainly are." Jarvis said casually, not seeing Halverson's eyes widen ever so slightly.
"If this were laid out for anybody other than the Fenrir, I'd accuse the military of overkill." Nesbitt said, awestruck and somewhat perturbed at the mass of military hardware currently pointed at him.
"It happened eight months ago, and it's still fresh. What happened on the Fenrir world, the battle we had here...it shook them. The SGC hadn't lost that many people in one engagement for a long time. I don't think they're going to take any chances. Hell, we wouldn't be standing here right now if the Fenrir weren't a deadly serious threat." Taylor mused.
The Stargate shut down behind them. As soon as the puddle had evaporated, a loud metallic scraping noise emanated from the same direction. Taylor and his team spun at the sound, just in time to see the metallic petals of an Iris slide out of the Stargate and lock together.
"Major Taylor! Sir, it's good to see you." Taylor turned again at the familiar voice – the UK liaison officer to the SGC was walking towards them, saluting. Jarvis, Moffatt and Llewellyn returned the salute sharply.
"Likewise, Captain Maddock." Taylor said, dropping one of his remaining bags and shaking the proffered hand.
"They installed it this morning, actually – about a month and a half later than scheduled, but at least we don't have to rely on the damn EGB any more." Maddock said, indicating the Iris at which they were gazing.
"Uh, excuse my ignorance...EGB?" Halverson said. "Asgard, proto-Norse and Norwegian I can handle. Military lingo still eludes me I'm afraid."
"Actually, it's a new one on me too." Taylor said, slightly puzzled.
"Don't worry, it's a relatively new development. It's the Expedient Gate Barrier. Something the SGC cooked up a while back – basically a cheap, simple and very quickly installed alternative to an Iris, designed for securing offworld gates without needing twelve hours and a full engineering platoon. Bit too cheap, if you ask me, but I suppose it did it's job. If you'll follow me, I'll show you the camp."
Following Maddock, they stepped through the gap in the wall. Moffatt pointed out a plain blue sign bearing the words "Welcome to P7T-434: Project Vidar Site 02" that had been erected just inside. Jarvis smiled as he read the handwritten phrase scrawled underneath - "THE ARSE END OF THE GALAXY".
"Project Vidar...oh, nice!" Halverson said as she read the sign.
"What's Vidar?" Llewellyn asked.
"Only the Norse god fated to destroy Fenrir and therefore prevent the destruction of the cosmos at Ragnarok." she responded, grinning.
"No pressure then..." Jarvis muttered.
They gazed around. Two or three acres more had been similarly cleared of plant-life and flattened as much as possible. It was occupied by rows of large green tents, suspended camouflage netting, pallets and cases of equipment and supplies, and a handful of portable buildings. A variety of construction vehicles sat in a line on the exposed rock. There appeared to be no evidence of the ferocious, desperate fire fight that had taken place on this spot eight months ago when they had narrowly escaped the Fenrir world, and twenty-one people had met their deaths.
Taylor gazed at the camp. US marines and other SGC personnel patrolled the site alongside their British counterparts, all of them seemingly oblivious to the dying but still high winds and low temperature.
"Sappers!" Llewellyn said happily, seeing fellow Royal Engineers around the site.
There were almost as many people not wearing military uniforms, which Taylor surmised were most likely SGC specialists and civilian contractors.
"You know, not to sound ungrateful, but I would have expected them to have done more with the place, what with eight months and three billion pounds to play with…" Jarvis muttered as he watched Sergeant Siler and another technician emerge from a nearby tent housing a naquadah reactor and the DHD, the Ancient pedestal partially opened up and hooked up to banks of computer terminals and other electronic equipment by a multitude of cables.
"Yeah, it's a bit...underwhelming. There has to be more to it than this..." Llewellyn murmured, casting a critical eye over the site. He did not look impressed.
Maddock didn't appear to have heard either of them as he began talking about the base.
"The MoD insisted we get a full, proper Iris installed as soon as possible, not least so the gate's protected in transit, but the SGC weren't happy about parting with the spare they always keep on base. Understandable I suppose, but we had to wait an extra two months for them to forge a new one – mark IV high carbon trinium-titanium, just like the one at Stargate Command. And they sent the same installation team they use."
"Excuse me – did you say 'in transit', as in, the Stargate is being moved?" Halverson said.
"Yes, of course. You didn't think this was the base, did you doctor?" Maddock said with a bemused smile.
"Well, I wasn't sure if the MoD spent most of their budget bribing the Pentagon." She said sarcastically. Maddock laughed.
"You'll have to excuse us, Captain – none of us knew anything about this operation until a few days ago. And even then details have been pretty damn thin on the ground." Taylor said, almost growling and instead yawning.
"Quite all right, sir – and you'll be briefed very soon. No, I assure you doctor, the real base is mere days away from becoming officially operational. As a matter of fact, now you're here they should be prepping the Stargate for it to be transferred in the next day or two. If you'll follow me, please." Maddock continued.
He led them to an area previously obscured by a trio of portable buildings and a large expanse of flapping camouflage netting. Sitting underneath the net were half a dozen Land Rovers, where two British soldiers relieved the team and their USAF helpers of their baggage and stowed it in the back of one of the vehicles before getting into the front. As the American airmen headed back to the gate, Maddock invited the team to climb aboard another of the utility vehicles before taking his place behind the wheel. Taylor pulled himself into the front passenger seat as the rest of SG-27 settled down in the back.
Satisfied, Maddock started the light truck and pulled out of the ad hoc compound, closely followed by the second vehicle with their bags. There was a trail cleared in the bracken, which Taylor knew would have been impossible to see from the gate even without the wall – Maddock was already guiding the Land Rover onto it and accelerating. Taylor wondered if he was going a little too fast – glancing at the speedometer, he noticed with a start that the vehicle was hurtling along what was essentially an off-road trail at more than seventy miles per hour. But the ride was remarkably smooth – the surface was naturally hardened, artificially smoothed volcanic rock.
"You may want to get comfortable. It's a little over an hour and a half's drive." Maddock said casually.
At breakneck speed, although its not like traffic's a problem, Taylor thought, gripping the dashboard with one hand and instinctively checking his watch with the other, making a mental note to ask what the local time was and if there was a way of adapting it to a twenty-four hour clock. He wondered briefly how the slightly lower gravity on 434 affected driving, but he also had a sickening thought that he would be finding out soon enough.
"What you saw was Site 02, which for now is just a temporary facility, a staging area. We get a great deal of our supplies, tools and materials through the gate, but we have to ship them to the main construction site. It's taken a while to get Site 01 up to spec enough to be able to receive the Stargate."
"So this is the Epsilon Site they've been building, sir?" Moffatt asked.
"Epsilon? I didn't even realise there had been a Delta Site. There was a Delta Site, right? Or am I getting my Greek alphabet wrong?" Taylor asked, slightly shocked at how out of the loop he'd become.
"Oh yeah," Llewellyn said ebulliently, "There was a Delta Site all right – was being the operative word – but I don't think anybody ever actually called it that outside of official documents. Or much past the planning stage, to be honest, since it had such a specialised role."
Taylor turned and gave Llewellyn a stern look.
"Just tell me what happened Lieutenant."
Seeing his commanding officer's expression, Llewellyn swallowed and took a deep breath. He'd completely forgotten Taylor had essentially lost all contact with Stargate operations since SG-27 was officially retired. All of them had been reassigned following the mission to the desert world of P2C-355, without explanation or delay.
"It, ah, blew up. Couple of weeks ago. The whole planet just went critical and then...ka-blooey! Took out a trio of Lucian Alliance ships too." Llewellyn said, happily imitating a colossal explosion with his hands. "That's what happens with naquadria cored worlds, unfortunately."
"Wait, what?" Taylor said, confused.
"Delta Site was the original name for Icarus Base, Dave. We were at the SGC for five hours...you must have heard something." Nesbitt said as he scratched his beard, his voice unusually sombre.
"Yeah, bits and pieces, that's all."
"I knew Rush, actually. We were both recruited into the Stargate Program at the same time. Troubled, difficult man, but brilliant."
Taylor knew Llewellyn meant nothing by his enthusiasm – large explosions of any description were simply one of the engineer's passions, and talents.
"It's something of a sticking point as to whether this planet is the Epsilon Site or not." Maddock said. "The MoD's stance is that we just co-opted the Epsilon Site budget, assets, construction crew and schedule. The Pentagon aren't entirely pleased with that, especially given the current tensions with the Lucian Alliance – they want as many installations as possible scattered around the galaxy, but General Bullock managed to convince them it's necessary. The Pentagon feels differently – as far as they are concerned, this is most definitely the Epsilon Site, at least until they actually get theirs built."
"Captain, tell me. Why's the gate being moved? Why not build the base here, or better yet, on a more hospitable world? There's got to be a Planet Barbados out there somewhere." Halverson called from the back.
Nesbitt cleared his throat.
"Actually, it makes sense Elise. Every bit of evidence I found says this gate is special – not only is it the only gate that can dial into the Void Prison...I think it's the only one that can be dialled from the Prison. If the Fenrir are going to try and escape the Prison, it's through this gate." he said, emphatically stabbing his finger at the floor.
"Plus, there's the Gleipnir array to keep an eye on. Moving this gate would be too much hassle, probably best just to build it here." Llewellyn added. Nesbitt nodded agreement.
"You're right on both counts, but we're chiefly moving the gate because the Vanir facility underneath it – what remains of the facility, at any rate – is an important find that we're going to have archaeological teams going over with a fine toothed comb, which I expect you will be having a lot to do with Dr Halverson, and also because it makes the volcanically formed landscape unstable. It's full of potholes and voids and the like." Maddock shouted back over the roar of the engine, road and air. Taylor saw the speedometer exceed eighty.
"I know." Nesbitt grumbled.
"Anyway, our surveyors and geologists found a new site that's almost perfect. The ground there is thick, solid granite, much like the Canadian Shield, very safe from any tectonic or volcanic activity, with a large lake close by for fresh water."
For some time the conversation died down, reduced to trivial subjects that held no interest for Taylor, so he used the time to study the landscape as it shot past. It was much as he'd seen it last, for all intents and purposes an alien clone of unspoilt Dartmoor merged with the Scottish highlands. In every direction there were undulating plains and hills, devoid of trees but coated in dense green-brown vegetation that rarely exceeded one metre in height, a mix of alien plants resembling bracken and heather. Occasionally, a weather-beaten granite boulder appeared in the midst of the pseudo-bracken. He wasn't surprised by how rounded and worn the rocks were, as he knew from experience that the weather here could be vicious and could change in an instant. The prospect of living on this planet for an extended period of time did not fill him with joy.
"The weather seems unusually mild, Captain. At least compared to how I remember it." He said.
"Yeah, good point Dave – they do know this is the planet we very nearly froze to death on, right?" Halverson said from the back.
"Hmm, yes. The white coat lads tell me you had the misfortune to gate in almost at the height of Lyngvi's winter, followed by something to do with an eccentric orbit or something, according to the astronomy team. The nights now are tolerable enough that with sufficient lighting, everyone just goes on working. Even the construction crews." Maddock said. This statement was surprising to Taylor for two reasons – the nights on Lyngvi were long, almost a week by Earth standards. The other reason was simple.
"Wait – Lyngvi? The planet has a name?" Taylor said.
"It does now." Maddock said, smiling.
"Actually, P7T-434's probably always been called that, according to my research. Lyngvi was the island where the Norse gods bound Fenrir, Dave. And guess what – it means 'Heathery'. I'd say it's as good a name as any, considering." Halverson offered.
"Dr Jackson came up with it last month, came to the same conclusion." Maddock said, either not hearing or not responding to Halverson muttering "Well there's a surprise" under her breath.
As the conversation lulled again, Taylor looked out of the windscreen. In the time since they'd come through the gate, the clouds had almost dissipated, and the huge ringed gas giant that Lyngvi orbited was visible through the blue-grey sky. It sat low in the sky, at least half of it obscured by the horizon and occasional wisps of grey.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Maddock said, noticing Taylor staring at the planet. "Nobody's decided on a name yet – it's still just J7T-434. What I can tell you, if I remember the astronomical survey correctly, is that it's bigger than Jupiter, and Lyngvi orbits it at a little over seven hundred thousand kilometres. I hope that sounds about right."
Taylor twisted in his seat and frowned quizzically at Nesbitt.
"That's sounds about right – fairly close, too." The physicist confirmed.
The big planet was indeed beautiful. Though washed out by the daylight and atmosphere it was clear that it had the banded, multi-coloured aspect of Jupiter, and the dense, disc like rings of Saturn. Both, however, seemed tilted with respect to the horizon, but Taylor knew it was merely their own location on Lyngvi's surface that made it appear that way. There were two more globes in the sky, tiny and only just visible, and he realised they were other moons orbiting J7T-434.
With little else to do and another hour of driving ahead of them, Taylor shifted in his seat and closed his eyes. The last week had played havoc with his sleep patterns, not helped by a transatlantic flight. While this didn't bother him, he had long ago learnt to seize every possible minute of rest. Within seconds, the noise of the Land Rover, his team and the air outside faded out.
" - repeat, four casualties, encountered heavy resistance, need immediate evac NOW!"
Taylor woke suddenly, the sound of Kalashnikovs and screaming soldiers disappearing instantly. One sound remained, one that he was familiar with – and one that sounded remarkably out of place on a distant alien world. The deep, thumping wokka-wokka noise had been one of the most gratifying he'd heard in his time in Afghanistan and Iraq, especially when heavily under fire from Taliban fighters.
Craning his neck, he tried to see the source. Several hundred feet above them, silhouetted against the unnamed gas giant and it's attendant moons, the Chinook transport helicopter swept past them, a heavy load slung underneath it in a cargo net.
He grinned. Somehow, despite everything he'd seen in his short time with the Stargate program, the familiar image of the tandem rotor heavy lift aircraft juxtaposed against the alien sky of a world on the opposite side of the galaxy from Earth was distinctly surreal.
"We had to beg, steal and borrow the few helicopters we have, but they're invaluable. I don't think we'll have them for much longer – the MoD's desperate to return them to Helmand." Maddock said, following Taylor's gaze.
As the team continued talking amongst themselves about music, television, work, even catching up with gossip from the SGC, Taylor resumed staring at the rapidly passing landscape. The terrain had changed during his short sleep – not significantly, but noticeably. The rocks and boulders were becoming larger and more frequent with every passing minute, the hills considerably taller and more pronounced and the vegetation dropping lower to the ground. As he stared at the road surface he saw the black volcanic rock had given way to grey granite. He checked his watch – it had been an hour and twenty minutes since they'd set off.
Ahead of them was a particularly noticeable peak. It was a steep, craggy hill, the jagged grey rock looking like a scab or blister in the planet's skin of rust coloured vegetation, something highly reminiscent of the Scottish highlands. At the base of the hill was a large, wide black gash, it's edges ringed with mottled grey rock. Far ahead of them, Taylor saw a large transport truck. Above it, the Chinook was dropping closer and closer to the ground, the cargo net still slung underneath, all the while moving forward. Suddenly, as he watched, it disappeared inside the cave mouth, and with a grin he instantly appreciated the tremendous scale of the cavern.
"Holy cow! Did you see that?" Moffatt said.
The roof of the cave mouth had to be at least three hundred feet from the floor, and the width of the cave was considerably greater still. Only then did Taylor actually realise both the heavy truck and their own Land Rover were heading straight for the gaping cavern mouth, without slowing. As they neared the gaping hole in the landscape he thought, for a fleeting moment, he had caught the briefest flash of a very well camouflaged observation post on the outside of the cave's roof, and a soldier inside talking into a radio.
"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at the progress we've made in eight months. Welcome to Lyngvi Garrison." Maddock said, with perfect timing that Taylor was sure came from having performed this glorified taxi and tour guide service several times previously. At the moment he'd said it, the Land Rover passed under the lip of the cave, headlights suddenly cutting into the gloom. The five former members of SG-27 in the back of the vehicle leaned forward to get a good look.
Taylor caught a glimpse of a steel walkway bolted to the cave wall high above them on his right, a solitary guard cradling an SA80 gazing back down at him. There seemed to be thick black cables running along the walls, and while he saw plenty of natural cave scenery, he also saw evidence of blasting and drilling. The trail was wet and muddy, but flat, wide and well travelled enough for the Land Rover to move swiftly through the brown sludge. The walls disappeared sharply and the expansive heart of the cavern hove into view.
"My God, it's immense…" Halverson breathed.
Taylor heard several gasps at the sheer scale of it all – he wasn't sure if one of them hadn't come from his own mouth.
"This is unbelievable...you could hide an aircraft carrier in here!" Llewellyn said excitably.
The air inside the cave was fractionally warmer than outside, but wetter. The musty smell mingled with that of freshly disturbed earth and diesel fumes, and the din of a busy construction site was drowned out by the now intensely loud, reverberating beat of the Chinook's rotors. The heavy lift helicopter was hovering over a raised metal platform, gently lowering the cargo net to the helipad as it's downwash caused the puddles of brown water in the mud to ripple. A number of soldiers, wearing fluorescent yellow vests and white hard hats over their DPMs, were bracing themselves against the artificial gale. The bright landing light flashed intermittently as the ground crew secured the load.
The truck ahead of them braked and turned off the makeshift road towards an offloading area occupied by forklifts and stacks of pallets. The cave was nowhere near as dim as Taylor had expected, but the light didn't feel like daylight, and he soon realised there were large floodlights bolted to the cave walls. As he watched, the load detached and the Chinook flew off, exiting the cave. The distinctive thump of it's engines receded, and the noise returned to the low level din of a dozen construction vehicles and shouted directions.
"Wow. Now that's worth a couple of billion quid." Halverson said.
"Bloody hell…" Jarvis murmured.
Llewellyn simply whistled under his breath.
Protruding from the far side of the cave wall, looking almost like it had been painstakingly excavated by some massive archaeological dig, was a large, incredibly tough looking concrete structure. Two huge hangar doors sat side by side and a brightly lit tunnel entrance sat next to these. Above them, he saw balconies carved from the rock, connected to more metal walkways and leading into small, dimly lit tunnels into the cave wall. Although inside a cave, it was like the Alpha Site, but on a slightly grander scale. In front of the structure, a large area of the cave floor had been flattened and turned into a huge concrete apron upon which sat dozens of vehicles, mostly of the construction variety. Piles of blasted granite sat alongside pallets of construction materials and arrays of steel girders.
"Okay…that's impressive. That's really impressive. How the hell did that get built so fast?" Taylor said.
"Well, firstly, we had the same construction crew that built the SGC's new Alpha Site, as well as a very large number of the MoD's preferred contractors, and even a few of the SGC's offworld allies. Secondly, there was already a very large cave system present under and in the hill, which made things a great deal easier. And thirdly…well, everything was fast-tracked and prioritised, with the design and construction crew given considerable degrees of authority and autonomy. Amazing what cutting bureaucrats out of the loop can do." Maddock said as the Land Rover sped across the concrete apron towards the concealed, heavily fortified base.
"You can't possibly have moved all this material, or these vehicles through the Stargate. The logistics of this must have been…ridiculous." Nesbitt said, awed.
"Oh no. We brought as much as possible through the gate, but most of it was delivered by the 304 fleet working on rotation – even the Sun Tzu assisted when the IOA leaned on the Chinese government. In fact, the Odyssey left orbit a few hours ago. Now, everybody ready for the grand tour?" Maddock said.
Although this was merely the front of the base, Lyngvi Garrison was a remarkable feat of engineering to Taylor's eyes. From orbit, the entire base would be virtually invisible, but the amount of excavation equipment and spill suggested the facility itself wasn't exactly small.
As the Land Rover drove into the left hand hangar, a huge, brightly lit chamber at least four stories high filled with equipment and vehicles, Taylor grinned. It barely mattered that they were sixty-three thousand light years from Earth, or that the reason for all of this was to combat an astonishingly deadly foe that may yet prove unstoppable. All that mattered to Taylor at this very instant was that the United Kingdom now had its very own Stargate Command.