July 2 2009, 03:23 EST

Assistant Technician Rodgers screwed up another piece of paper and lobbed it over the desk with a flick of his wrist, basketball style. He was slumped in his chair in the dim office, cursing another graveyard shift. The crumpled paper ball bounced tantalisingly on the edge of the recycling bin before dropping out.

Tutting to himself, Rodgers reached for another page, which he had lifted out of the bin in the first place. He glanced at the monitors around him as he screwed it up in his fist. His raison-d'etre, his purpose at three o'clock in the morning in this almost deserted wing of the building, was to observe the deep-space sensors for movement - rogue asteroids on near-earth orbits, or, as had happened with an alarming increase in regularity since he had taken up his post, AOs, or aberrant objects. Asteroids were called in to other departments in NASA. AOs had their own special phone, with no name or number. Rodgers had lifted that receiver twice. Once had proven to be a false alarm, a glitch in the system. The second had been shortly before the news announced that a meteor shower had impacted a US Navy flotilla in the Pacific, sinking the Nimitz and three destroyers. Rodgers remembered that calm, dry voice that had answered his call, devoid of identifying characteristics beyond it's maleness. No age, no race, no accent. Rodgers couldn't have said if it was military or civilian.

The screens were as they always were. No blips, no movement. Some showed only darkness, others the speckled background of the night sky. One was a direct feed from the HST, the Hubble, it's monitor showing twinkling stars strewn across a field of space, dark patches between them.

Rodgers let loose the paper ball, and pumped the air with a fist as it entered the bin without touching the sides. 'Swooosh!' he said emphatically, jaw set, a moment before he sat bolt upright in his ergonomic desk chair. Stars twinkled through the Earth's atmosphere, he recalled. Stars did not twinkle from the Hubble. He stared intently at the monitor, looking for that patch of darkness. A star blinked, disappearing, and a moment later another appeared. A patch of darkness, small, lay between them.

He lifted the receiver, his heart in his mouth.

July 2 2009, 03:47

General Landry tapped his pen on the table distractedly. Bags under his eyes were the only indication that he had not slept fully. In every other aspect, as always when on duty, he was every inch an Air Force General.

He looked up as the briefing room door swung open, and an airman admitted four personnel. Landry considered them momentarily as he stood to receive their salutes. First was Major Davis, liaison to the Pentagon, and in the General's consideration, about the best that organisation had to offer. Next to him was Colonel Mitchell, former commanding officer of SG-1, the SGC's flagship team, and now commander of the Air Force's space-capable interceptor wing. The SGC's own military component was represented in the forms of Colonel Reynolds and Major Griff, leaders of SG units 2 and 3.

'At ease. Take your seats, gentlemen', General Landry intoned drily. 'You'll want to be seated for this one.' He returned to his own chair, and handed out briefing folders. 'Twenty minutes ago a call came from NASA Deep-Space Observation. A large object was sighted moving past Mars.'

All four officers looked up sharply. Colonel Mitchell, always the first with a comment, broke the short silence. 'That's pretty close to home, sir.'

Landry sighed. 'It is indeed. NASA's best guess - the object absorbs most of emissions we use to detect inbounds.'

'Stealth?' Major Davis asked, an eyebrow raised.

'So it would seem, Major. Apparently it was only spotted when it got big enough to block out stars.'

The import of that took a moment to sink in.

'Block out stars, sir?' Reynolds queried. 'You said it was passing Mars?'

'It seems the object is rather large, Colonel. NASA suggests it has a diameter around a quarter that of the Moon, which makes it several times larger than Anubis' command vessel.'

'Any idea if it's hostile, sir?' Mitchell shook himself out of shock and back to reality. Something big was out there, and it was headed this way.

'As yet, we have no idea. No communications have been received, no visual has been made. Both the Tok'ra and the Jaffa insist they have no ships in the Solar system. A cloaked Cargo ship has been despatched, but it won't be within visual range for another fifteen minutes. Until then, we have absolutely no idea what's coming. On that basis, the President expects us to assume the worst.'

The four officers nodded their understanding.

'Colonel Mitchell, you will ready F-302 command for operations. We may have to deal with strikes on major cities and military targets. Brief your officers accordingly. Major Davis, you will co-ordinate directly with the Pentagon. Homeworld Security will need as much information as can be gathered if hostile forces are engaged. We'll also need the support of the regular armed forces, never mind allied powers. Colonel Reynolds, Major Griff, we'll need a recall on all non-essential SGC personnel, and an alert at Sites Alpha through Gamma.'

All four men accepted their orders calmly. 'What about orbital defence, sir?' Colonel Mitchell enquired.

'General O'Neill has ordered the Odyssey and the Apollo prepped and ready. The new Asgard-class vessel completed it's shakedown mission last week, and will be ready for deployment this afternoon. Let's hope it doesn't have a baptism of fire. Gentlemen, from this moment, we are at DefCon 2.' General Landry pushed back his chair and stood, the four officers following suit. Each saluted, and departed the briefing room to their various locations. Colonel Mitchell would return to Area 51, the Nellis Airfield being the base for Earth's F-302 defences, while Major Davis headed directly to Andrews AFB. Over his career he had come to the conclusion that his Pentagon superiors took difficult news much better face to face than over a video-link. He was sure that the Joint-Chiefs would already be fully briefed, but channels between the SGC, NORAD, the Pentagon and the military areas of command would need to be re-established and run in before they were relied upon in the heat of the moment.

Back in his office, General Landry took a moment to consider his situation. With the Ori threat passed a year and a half since, and the turn of events in the Pegasus Galaxy removing the immediate threat of a Wraith incursion, the Milky Way had become a much quieter place. SGC personnel had participated in the hunting down of the handful of remaining Go'auld that had refused to keep their heads down. A further proportion of IOA funding had been redirected to Atlantis, along with the first two of a new class of ship. While the Odyssey and it's sister ships had been refitted with the technology gained from the Asgard, a new blueprint had been drawn up incorporating the updates immediately. In honour of the race that made them possible, each was given the name of an Asgard, a Norse deity. The first, of course, had been Thor, followed by Frey, the two now detailed to patrolling the Pegasus Galaxy. The disorder among the Wraith, and the abundance of ZPM energy had allowed the Atlantis base a respite. New communications had been established with the human polities that made up a new flimsy alliance against the Wraith, and much good will had been gained by the relative openness of the IOA in offering medical and scientific technologies, as well as stocks of small arms and ammunition.

With the development of a space-capable fleet underway, and the shipments of resources to Atlantis, the reduced funding available to the SGC had seen them become something of a non-combat unit. While exploration of new worlds had taken place, the mainstay of work under Cheyenne Mountain now consisted of Second Contact operations - maintaining communication with off-world allies, operating the off-world bases, and now aiding primitive societies in reconstruction after the chaos unleashed by the Ori plague. The IOA had taken a stance of encouraging technological development in transplanted human societies, without providing the technology from Earth. So far, General Landry had decided, it consisted primarily of farming techniques and sanitation regimes. Not a fine preparation for the arrival of an unknown alien vessel right in our own back-yard, he decided.

Landry was disturbed from his distracted thoughts by the buzz of the base intercom. 'General Landry, we have the Cargo Ship on subspace comms.' He stepped through to the briefing room, and down the spiral staircase that led to the control room. As he awaited the communication, he stared through the ring of Naqada that sat dully in the massive chamber beyond the large window. So much potential. So much danger.

'Lieutenant Owens. Talk to me.' General Landry addressed the pilot tasked with approaching the Alien vessel.

'General Landry. We are in Martian orbit, cloaked. The Alien vessel is on our scanners, approaching Mars from the other side, approximately one point three million kilometres away. We expect to have a visual in thirty seconds.'

'Do sensors indicate anything?' General Landry queried brusquely.

'Sensors confirm the object at 550 miles in diameter, moving at a speed of.... two point five million miles per hour. That would put it in Earth orbit in a little under 27 hours, sir. We're getting a visual, sir. The Alien vessel is appearing around the horizon. Grey. It appears circular from this angle, Sir.'

'Any indication they've detected you?'

'Sensors don't indicate any change in energy outputs, sir. Request permission to move out of Martian orbit for a closer pass.'

'Granted, Lieutenant. Move away at the first sign of trouble.'

Landry watched the monitor showing the position of the Cargo ship and the assumed marker for the Alien vessel based on it's speed and heading. After a short time the speaker crackled again.

'Sir, position now forty thousand kilometres distance. The object is huge, sir! From here it's bigger than a full moon!'

'That's good to know, Lieutenant. Can you give us any further information?' Landry asked patiently, the iron tone of command in his voice conveying the necessity of his request.

'Yes sir. It remains circular in appearance, but it curves away at the edges. It may be spherical, we'll see as it passes us. The visible surface contains a large curved indentation, about a quarter the total diameter. The sensors indicate it is emitting a field of some kind, and quite powerful. The surface isn't smooth - there are grooves, ridges. I can see a triangular mark - maybe five kilometres across. It might be a hatch, sir.'

'Thank you, Lieutenant. Are sensors reading anything from the inside of the vessel?'

'No sir. We can read the general energy signature of the ship, but we're getting no sensor readings from inside the energy field. I can't even tell you what material it's made of, sir.'

'Thank you, Lieutenant. Observe the ship pass, then return. I assume you can get here quicker than our visitors?' Landry couldn't tell if four million kilometres an hour was fast or not by these standards. Big numbers were just big numbers.

'Yes sir, we'll be back in twenty minutes at sub-light speeds.'

'SGC out.' Landry concluded the communication, and turned to the Master Sergeant. 'I hope you didn't have any leave planned for Independence Day, Sergeant.'

Harriman swallowed nervously. 'Not any more, sir.'