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July 29, 2009

Earth

When Henry Hayes was briefed about the trio of people recovered by USS Alexandria near the North Pole, he thought someone was pulling his leg. Alternative timelines, time travel, alien gods, instantaneous teleportation across the universe through a 'Stargate' - he was honestly impressed that the Chief of Staff could deliver that speech while keeping a straight face.

If only it was a joke.

Dust and plaster fell from the ceiling as the bunker shook violently. Even at this depth the effects of orbital bombardment could be felt acutely. Aids and military personal ran to and fro in an act of organized chaos, passing orders to the troops on the surface while they still could. Not that the troops stood much of a chance: though President Hayes didn't doubt the skills and dedication of America's military there was only so much it could do in the face of craft flying at Mach 15+ or extraterrestrial motherships raining multi-megaton plasma-bolts down to the ground.

Earth's last hope lay with SG-1 - the three strangers from the alternative timeline claimed that the key to defeating the Goa'uld fleet lay on the other side of the Antarctic Stargate. Naturally, the Antarctic Research base was the very first target of the alien attack.

That left only one other, long-shot option. When SG-1 were found in the Arctic the team claimed they arrived there through a Stargate found onboard the Achilles, a U.S. freighter that went missing in the 1930s. Yet once the ship's wreck was searched no such gate was found. And if the U.S. Navy did not find it, someone else might have found it first.

"Listen to me, because I don't think either one of us has much time left," Hayes spoke urgently into the red phone as another blast rocked the Presidential Bunker. "If you have anything, any information that could help…"

A garbled response came through, completely unintelligible.

"Yuri, I can't hear you! What?"

Halfway across the world, a helicopter carried the President of the Russian Federation over the ruins of Moscow. With its escorts gone, the pilot maneuvered the aircraft at rooftop height, keeping his distance from the Death Gliders and MiG fighters battling above for air supremacy. With a shaking hand, Yuri wiped away sweat from his bald brow as he stared through the chopper's porthole at the burning remains of his city.

"We found it," the Russian repeated over the din of the helicopter blades. "An artifact like the one you described from Antarctica. You called yours Stargate, we called ours Anchor. We found it on the seabed while tailing one of your subs in the Arctic Ocean!"

The phone line went silent for a moment before Hayes replied excitedly "You've also discovered an artifact? Where is it located?"

"It's in Mu-" the Russian leader was abruptly cut off as alarms blared and his transport spun out of control. A Death Glider's plasma-shot blew away the helicopter's tail and, though the durability and ruggedness of the Mi-8 was legendary, it was still a slave to physics. Without a rear rotor the chopper spiraled downward, plummeting to the ground in a matter of seconds. The fuel ignited easily upon impact, swallowing the aircraft in a blazing inferno.

Yuri died instantly. Henry Hayes' hopes died with him

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Praxyon

She could tell it was Ba'al's work from the moment she saw it. A three-pronged platform suspended in the middle of a bottomless shaft. A Stargate, a ring-platform and a control panel each located at one of the three ends. Simple, drab, utilitarian and lacking any regalia or decoration worthy of a god. Yet it was with this device that Ba'al was able to bend the universe to his will.

A swarm of satellites permeated the galaxy, collecting data on solar emissions throughout known space. The information from the swarm flowed back here to Praxyon where astonishingly-powerful computers calculated stellar wind speeds, quantum foam fluctuations and wormhole stability – each bit of information needed to perform controlled time-travel.

Ba'al truly was a genius, possessing the ability to see things in a way others couldn't. Only he could have devised a way to turn a flaw in the Gatebuilder's technology into something that could rewrite history itself.

Yet for all his brilliance, Qetesh knew that her Sovereign was not without flaws. His keen mind was meticulous and calculating to the point of cowardice: Ba'al would scheme and prepare for years, working and reworking his plans until every possibility and outcome was accounted for. Naturally, bolder Goa'uld could make their moves and attain fortunes in a fraction of the time it took Ba'al to simply devise a strategy. Were it not for the foresight gained by time-travel, Qetesh suspected her 'Lord' would still dwell in the lower-rungs of the Goa'uld hierarchy. What's more, by occupying himself with endless subterfuge and distant plans Ba'al could be oblivious to dangers close at hand. He did not consider her a threat until she plunged her sword through his back and forced him to give up his secrets.

Qetesh did not plan on making the same mistakes as Ba'al. Why retreat mere decades back into the past? Why not return to the first days of the Goa'uld Empire and take Ra's place? Why not go back even further and turn the Gatebuilders themselves into your slaves? The Goa'uld queen smirked as she recalled how the Sovereign squirmed on her shikra-blade while explaining the dangers of the device through a Tau'ri expression about butterflies & hurricanes.

What kind of god fears weather or insects anyway?

Ordering her personal guard to keep watch over the Stargate and the rings, Qetesh approached the Praxyon controls. No sooner did she touch the console then a light flashed behind her. Turning quickly, she was shocked to see Ba'al standing alive and well beside her. The feeling quickly subsided however as she realized it was only a pre-recorded, holographic message.

"Congratulations Qetesh," the hologram smirked. "I'm impressed – really, I am."

Realizing it posed no threat, the Goa'uld Queen payed the recording no mind and returned to the controls. Oblivious, the hologram continued its monologue.

"You've discovered the secret of my rise to power – a secret I would never impart to the likes of you. So it would seem you have found a way to... loosen my lips. I suppose by now you have taken power and I am either deposed, slayed or imprisoned. -"

Qetesh sighed, remarking dryly "Truly, even in death your intellect has no equals."

"- But did you really think my machine could be used by just anyone who finds it?"

Suddenly, the computer stopped responding to commands. Display screens, previously filled with star-charts & chronographs, now showed an ominous red countdown.

Qetesh's eyes widened in panic. The only warning her warriors got was a "Jaffa kree!" she yelled as she dashed for the rings with every ounce of her enhanced strength, knocking any guard unlucky enough to be in her way into the chasm below.

The rings deposed her back onboard the orbiting flagship just in time to witness the explosion blossom across the planet. All that remained of the Praxyon time-machine was a sea of slag and molten rock.

Around her, Jaffa were asking for her orders yet Qetesh could not hear them. All she heard was the final, self-satisfied laugh of the Ba'al-hologram.