This story is a work of fanfiction and any similarities to the characters of any television, film or literary work is completely intentional. The author does not in any way shape or form profit from the following work nor claims any responsibility for the efforts of others. Said author acknowledges that they simply weren't cool enough to think of something like this on their own. The following story is a fanfiction cross over.
Untoward Truth
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"On the topic of the Terran Federation, in its early years, no, to speak of the Terran Federation one must begin not with Earth Union, not the International Oversight Advisory, no, to speak of the Terran Federation one must begin with the most pivotal of all discoveries made by the human race on Earth. I refer of course, to the discovery of the first of Earth's 'Gateways to Heaven' in Giza and the series of events that eventually lead to the controversial secret program that started in Basement 21 of the North American Defense Command, NORAD. Yes, dear reader I speak of the Stargate Program."
-Robert K. Woolsey, excerpt from The Memoirs of a President.
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Terra Sanctum 2050
"What Did You Do?!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!! WWWwhat DIIiiiDddd YOuuuuu DooooOOoo?!!"
The confrontation occurred in a floating promenade, hovering high above a tremendous coliseum capped by an equally enormous and spectacular blue crystal dome that filtered and split the sunlight into a dazzling array of colors which was used by the architects of Terra Sanctum to create the illusion of vast pillars, arches of light and other eye catching pieces of luminous architecture.
"What did you do?!!!"
A small group of men and women stood in the center of the garden-like promenade, some of these people were armed with weapons, devices generally forbidden in Sanctum, all surrounding two men, one woman and the blackened, smoldering ruin of a metal chest.
One of the men was a thin, tall, tanned human male of Mediterranean descent with steel grey threads in his otherwise strong and healthy crop of styled black hair, mustache and beard. He had a face that was creased with care-lines and in any other situation would have come off as someone's kind and caring uncle, a jovial figure to be trusted and respected, ideal for a politician or a used car salesman.
Currently however, when combined with the thick throbbing vein on the side of his head and reddened eyes, this irate individual seemed more like the raving lunatic that he currently was.
The woman was attractive, of indeterminate age with long black hair and bangs colored pure white. She was dressed in a black faux-leather pantsuit which was covered by a black frock-coat that split open at her waist to reveal her long, slim, leather-clad legs. This woman was currently looking with great concern and slowly dawning horror at the other man who was currently being questioned.
This man was shorter, with graying brown hair, a weather-worn face and other than his slightly athletic build, could have passed for a stereotypical twentieth century college professor with his black glasses and Harris Tweed suit. He currently had a slightly dazed expression on his face despite being so aggressively questioned.
This of course, could be easily explained by the slightly smoking, hole the size of a Pre-unification American quarter that was burned straight though his upper torso.
To be fair it seemed as though the dazed man, Dr. Daniel Jackson, Vice-President of the Terran Federation and Ambassador to the Eden League of Allied Worlds and Protectorates, actually wanted to answer. He gulped audibly, wiped away the thin trail of blood that had leaked from the corner of his mouth and raised a finger as if to make a momentous announcement.
The woman, Vala Mal Doran cautiously moved closer to Dr. Jackson as a few individuals from the crowd edged cautiously behind the other man. The primary reason for this caution was the fact that the screaming man was holding a thin, slim, dangerous-looking weapon that could most aptly be described as an elegant, hand-cannon.
Fortunately the man's attention was solely upon Dr. Jackson whose momentous announcement was…
"Ah!"
Even Dr. Jackson seemed confused.
Who wouldn't be, "Ah?!" Thought the assembled personages.
The screaming man stopped for a moment and repeated what everyone was thinking. "Ah?"
The he looked at the smoking hole, seeing clear through, the light over the horizon.
"Oh! Ask question, wait for answer then shoot!" Sheepishly he shrugged and blurted out.
"Sorry."
People stared.
In his mind Dr. Jackson had been prepared to exchange a few witty yet scathing remarks with his nemesis before proudly explaining how he had thwarted the man's nefarious designs.
Unfortunately all that came out was…'Ah!'
It should be explained that currently there was a blackened, burning hole in Dr. Jackson's left lung and that he should have been quite pleased that he was still standing, let alone capable of monosyllabic responses to the queries of a villain. The burns had actually cauterized the flesh surrounding the wound in his chest which was why the damaged brachial artery wasn't currently spurting his life-blood all over the faux-marble floor beneath his feet.
"Still," Dr. Jackson fretted. "Was that really the best that I can do? 'Ah!' Really?"
It should be noted that this was not, by far, the first time that Dr. Jackson had ever been shot. He'd actually lost track of the number of that he'd been shot at, let alone hit. That probably said something rather unflattering about his lifestyle. As an archeologist, linguist and amateur anthropologist he really should have been living a nice, relaxing, boring life, filled with things only people in his chosen field of study would have ever find interesting.
Ever.
Other than a thirty minute short on the Discovery Channel with five minutes of that time advertising swimsuit models and their efforts to protect endangered sharks that swim right on by without taking even a single exploratory a bite.
Just a little.
Just to see how she tastes.
Instead here he was, a real life Indiana Jones, there was actually a semi-biographical mini-series on the Galaxy Wide Web that attempted to sensationalize the more exiting events of his life. At the show's producer's last count there were 52 billion viewers across twenty three planets, it was surprisingly popular, though professionally and personally mortifying.
Archeologists don't really like being compared to Indiana Jones unless they actually getting paid thousands of dollars for doing so.
Digging up rocks is an expensive hobby.
Daniel's mind wandered back to where his body currently was only to find that he was absent-mindedly fingering the smoking hole in his chest under Vala's incredulous gaze. He pulled his hand away in dismay and gave himself the purely mental equivalent of slapping his forehead an yelling 'Du'oh!'. He could not however, stop himself from breathing in short sharp gasps, nor prevent the subtle lethargy that was slowly overtaking his conscious mind.
"I must be in shock." He thought.
It was a strangely disappointing thought.
He'd had his chest cavity blown open by a staff blast, he'd been tortured by a Goa'uld hand device more times than he could remember (most likely due to the resulting brain damage), he'd been shot in the back by a plasma burst, he'd had his constituent atoms pushed almost to the point of phase dissipation by a zat'n'ktel multiple times, he'd been fatally irradiated, pierced in the neck by an arrow, a poison dart, shrapnel, a bit of clay pottery, he'd been exposed to hard vacuum...
Hell, he'd even lost count of the number of times that he'd died, though he was almost certain that the number was somewhere around five or six times.
Conservatively,
All in all, the point was, compared to all of that, having a neat little hole burned though his body was well to be frank, so, plain that he would have chuckled if only his body could have spared the air.
He'd just made up his mind to have another go at answering his nemesis when he realized that his vision was slightly blurred. There was a dark blob at the upper left corner of his sight and then his glasses were placed on his face again.
With a start he realized that he was now lying on his back with his head in Vala's lap. His common-law wife was saying something but at the moment all, that he could think was…
"I must be in shock." There was a slight feeling of déjà vu but he ignored it.
That was probably a bad sign.
A drop of wetness trickled down one cheek and he realized that Vala was, uncharacteristically, crying in public. Deciding to mollify her, he focused on reading her lips since his hearing seemed spotty.
"You can't die!" She was saying, "It'll be another three months till I'm recognized as your beneficiary!"
"Ah Vala…"
He was not outraged by what she was saying, she often used dry humor to goad him into doing the things that she wanted him to do, if only just to spite her, like shaving his beard, taking up the Vice-Presidency of the Federation, a largely ceremonial role, or at the moment, staying alive.
He couldn't fault her well meant efforts even though she was…
Stealing his grandfather's heirloom, solid gold pocket-watch off his not-yet-dead body!!!!
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, Daniel understood that Vala sometimes backslid into kleptomania whenever she was extremely anxious. Never mind the sentimental value of a watch passed down from father to son that had been through three world wars and a goblin rebellion. He tried to say something comforting, discarded the first two comments as inappropriate and then his mind latched onto the perfect, monosyllabic word that would appropriately convey all that he was feeling to her in a way that wouldn't ever be misunderstood.
Ever!
Daniel shuddered, gasped and then with visible effort groaned…
"Bitch."
He wanted to way more, Vala deserved much, much more but there was a curious darkness at the edges of his vision and he could hear his medical implant making frantic wails through cyberspace. It was probably saying the electronic equivalent of 'Heart rate critical!' 'Cells depleted of oxygen to dangerous levels!' 'Dangerous build up of lactic acid in thighs, buttocks, cheeks, ventricles and abdominal muscles!' 'Analysis, thirty percent probability- Intense Sexual Orgasm, 2 percent probability- Sleep Apnea, sixty-seven percent probability- Imminent Death, zero point oh, oh, oh, oh, oh five percent probability- Atrophic Vaginitis…
Out of some instinct, hidden in a walled off corner of his mind until needed, he centered himself and opened his mind just… so.
Staring at the sky above helped as little by little he surrendered his worldly constraints as he looked into the brilliant light high above him that seemed to grow brighter and brighter.
Until…
There was a sea of voices, all talking to one another. The things that they discussed varied from something as mundane as the opening of a flower to concepts so far out of his still mortal frame of view that all that he knew was that even a single half-overheard (not understood mind you) word could alter the fate of the inhabited Galaxies.
For example, 'Yrxllse Avis Fexis' three words upon which hinged the fate of a galaxy.
Not ours though.
Ours was 'Eriw Der Eht Sti'
His mind began to expand into a vast sea of existence, a universe beyond the mortal plane where he could see both without himself and within, and he asked…
"Am I, going to die?"
The torrent of voiced stilled into a single trickle of words spoken with a dry, sarcastic humor that seemed to descend from some unimaginable height. And when they finally came down to Daniel, he heard the strangely familiar voice say…
((YES, YOU ARE….))
Sometimes the most momentous of occasions could be spoiled by a single unintentional gaffe. In this case Daniel's dignified and wise response escaped his mind and all that he said was.
"Urk."
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"We began our endeavor out of the desire to explore the unknown, what we found awed us, frightened us. We did what we could to secure the safety of planet Earth. Ra was dead, the Abydos gate was buried, and we thought ourselves safe… We were wrong."
-Col. Samantha Carter PhD. on The Julia Donovan Show!
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Earth, Basement 20, a corridor leading past elevator 3, NORAD, December 2009
The two men strolled down the corridor past various airmen carrying out their tasks.
"I know I was the one who found it, I'm not entirely happy with the fact that we were forced to use it either but I think that it was better than the alternative…" The younger man, Daniel Jackson, spoke with rapid urgency.
"No one disagrees with you." The older man, General Hank Landry responded.
"But it is a very dangerous piece of technology to keep lying around." Daniel pressed, trying hard to get his point across.
"It's out of my hands Dr. Jackson." General Landry answered as he walked up to the elevator.
Daniel tried a different tack, "Okay, let's say someone does figure out how to reprogram it, or worse let's say it falls into the wrong hands, it could be the most powerful weapon that we've ever come across!"
"I'm well aware of the risk…" Landry blandly answered as he called for the elevator. "So is the IOA." He added sarcastically as Dr. Jackson rolled his eyes. "For now," He continued. "The Ark s being studied at Area 51, that's all I know." He paused for a moment as the elevator doors opened. "I'm sorry Dr. Jackson… I've done all I can do."
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"It was always the intention of the members of the International Oversight Advisory to make the reality of the Stargate Program and Earth's position in the wider Galaxy publicly known. This was in fact a common reaction of each of the administrations that found themselves confronted with knowledge of the Stargate Program and the later IOA Fleet and Atlantis expeditions. No one would like to be told that their country was currently fighting a secret war for survival against a series of massively powerful enemies and that their servicemen and most brilliant scientists had been fighting and dying for a little over three decades!
The military argued that the world was not yet ready for such a revelation and after much debate the nations involved reluctantly agreed to maintain secrecy for as long as plausibly possible and necessary. We tried to prepare for when the truth got out, meeting secretly with other world leaders and dropping hints, bringing in industry leaders and key members of the media, religious leaders, scientists, putting in place all of the necessary protection organizations to deal with the expected backlash, some politicians preemptively resigned in order to avoid what was coming while others doggedly stayed on.
People had grown much more flexible in their thinking over the years as the IOA had gradually begun to introduce new technologies to the world, slowly building each generation's tolerance for the fantastic. This greatly encouraged the IOA and at the height of peace, both on Earth and in the larger Galaxy, disclosure happened.
On January the 5th, 2025 Americans awoke to a much anticipated address from President Monica Gonzales, hours before, Secretary of State Claudia Singh had officially addressed the United Nations Security Council in a closed session and afterwards, by unanimous vote a special session of the United Nations General Assembly was convened.
After that, within the next few days leaders worldwide were making announcements and official statements as to their nation's response to the information revealed. A veritable army of public relations officials, employed by the IOA in anticipation of the event went to work around the world alongside the various informed media houses and civil agencies.
We disseminated the information as best we could in order to prevent the wide spread panic and disorder so feared by the military. The guard forces in various countries were on alert. We thought we were prepared. We thought that in the worse case scenario, some of our number may have been in need of new employment, or immunity from prosecution.
It was glaringly obvious, after the first two formal declarations of war highlighted with their corresponding nuclear detonations, that that was wishful, thinking."
-Robert Woolsey, excerpt from Painful Revelations, The Briefest World War.
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Earth, Minnesota 2049
The old man rowed the boat back toward the shores of the lake. The boat cut slowly but surely through the slightly murky water on its way to the dock. The old man breathed deeply and evenly as he rowed. Pulling the oars in, he allowed the boat to coast on its own momentum for a few more seconds before stopping. With swift practice he tied off the boat to the dock.
In truth, the man that climbed onto the pier didn't seem to be that old. In spite of his steel grey hair turning white and lined face, there was a certain fluidity of movement, the easy grace of a much younger man at odds with the careful, calculated movement of a person familiar with the limits of his body imposed by advancing age, and the painful consequences of surpassing them.
It was evident in the was he lifted the heavy, fish laden cooler that this particular man was still in good health and going strong despite his apparent age of 60.
In truth, Colonel General Jonathan J. O'Neill (retired) was actually closer to one hundred years of age than his apparent age of a mere '60' years. In these times, somatic treatments were still expensive, costing as much as a garden city penthouse, and of those treatments were of limited use to those already of advanced age when the treatment first began.
Tretonin, widely touted as the penicillin of the twenty-first century still held many drawbacks due to its complicated manufacturing process and the temporary effect of the drug in the case of some types of chronic disorders.
Though progress had been made in improving the original formula and mass-producing an artificially created version of the drug rather than use immature Goa'uld symbiotes to make the substance, the production levels and stockpiles were still low enough to restrict usage to a long list of priority patients and critically ill world-wide.
If O'Neill was asked to reveal just what maintained his health, strength, and longevity, he would say that the answer lay in an unfortunate, at the time, judgment call that involved drinking some rather intoxicating prune juice and getting laid with; and apparently married to, a local village girl on a far away planet called Argos.
He had also contracted the most interesting of venereal diseases.
Always use protection kids…
Those alien babes…
To be precise, what he had contracted wasn't so much a STD, though it was most definitely ST, as it was a school of self-assembling, macromolecules or nanocytes, programmed by the Goa'uld Pelops to accelerate the aging of a group of primitive villagers. Pelops had designed an experiment using growth accelerating nanocytes on the ancient Greek descendants living on Argos in an attempt to advance the evolution of humans so as to create a hok'tur or advanced human, the Holy Grail for Goa'uld seeking powerful hosts.
For as far back as 2010, the IOA and Area 51 scientists had been attempting to reverse engineer a reliable batch of nanocytes for use in both military and civilian applications, including the treatment of inoperable cancers and other illnesses as well as industrial construction and automated repair systems. The problem was that both the software programming and the hardware used in most examples of nanotechnology were advanced to the point that the nanites would not function without at least a bare minimum of commands and at that bare minimum there was the risk that the nanites would evolve or mutate into an uncontrollable form.
Some enterprising scientist had eventually hit upon the idea of examining the dormant nanocytes in the blood or O'Neill and the Argosians. This had come after a routine medical check using copies of the Alteran diagnostic devices discovered on Atlantis had revealed something incredible about the nanites in the General's blood…
Jack hefted the cooler onto one shoulder and carried his fishing rod in another, along with the bait and tackle box. The small lake behind him had once been a small and murky pond, utterly devoid of fish. His home and beloved pond had been destroyed by a falling piece of rogue debris after a battle in orbit late '99. As a favor earth's allies had helped repair the damage and had actually made the pond deeper than before, inadvertently intersecting with an underground aquifer, resulting of in the flooding of his nice little pond and the reconstruction of his cabin on the shores of a small lake.
He called it Lake Bob.
To add insult to injury, a school of fish had turned a shallow part of Lake Bob into their annual spawning pool.
It was like being a grandfather, sorta.
Not really.
At least the bears made life interesting.
He walked with a slight spring in his step up the short wooded path that lead to his cabin. Breathing in the crisp, cold, evening air as he walked dappled by the light of the evening sun filtered through the trees, Jack O'Neill regretted not a thing.
The medical examination and the ensuing tests by military research and development personnel headed by Drs. Bill Lee PhD and Joan Walker MD revealed that although dormant, the nanites in O'Neill's blood had absorbed and retained minute amounts of mitochondrial energy, most likely gained from one of Jack's stints in a sarcophagus after the Argos mission, and that these nanites were slowly releasing the energy back into the General's body at a rate that resulted in Jack's somatic aging being halted at 60.
The team of scientists had further more discovered, using the more advanced Alteran medical imaging, that the nanites in the General's body were of a vastly simpler design compared to those used by the Asurans/Alterans. These 'dumbed down' nanites needed only a few hundred commands to function as compared to the hundreds of millions needed by a replicator nanite.
In the end the international research team had needed the aid of the Pangaran's expertise in advanced chemistry as reprogramming the Argos nanites required more of an expertise in chemistry and micro-biology than software programming. The comparatively simplistic nanite's very molecular structure was the algorithm that dictated their behavior and thus they did not posses the structures that allowed more complicated systems to be rewritten remotely, evolve or mutate into an otherwise harmful form. With finite life-spans so long as the original batch was correctly made, there was little risk of harmful mutations.
For the Pangarans the breakthrough meant the creation of a highly efficient medical delivery system that could specifically target areas of the body in need of treatment and deliver the correct amount of medicine at the appropriate time. In this way the Pangaran people would be able to more efficiently distribute Tretonin and perfect other non-invasive medical treatments.
Though it would be several years before the nanites were cleared for widespread usage, the O'Neill vaccine as it was coming to be called would be administered to all personnel in key military and civilian posts within Earth Union after a few short years of rigorous testing, sooner in the case of those accepted for clinical trials. The treatment would be in a form of nanites that slowly released a charge of mitochondrial energy as well as several anti-senescence drugs as a means to prolong an individual's healthy lifespan. A military-only version was developed as an emergency medical treatment for critically injured personnel; these nanites released their energy quickly into a body while working to destroy any mind-altering toxins resulting from such exposure and administer other vital medications where necessary.
And O'Neill…
After serving with honor as the Terran Federation's first Marshal of Joint Military Command, Colonel General Jonathan J. O'Neill retired at the ripe old age of 98 to spend his remaining fifty or sixty odd years in peaceful retirement…again.
It wouldn't be the first time if he was recalled to duty after retiring.
Thankfully nobody came knocking.
And for some reason he had a feeling that the time was soon a' coming. Making no comment Jack scratched his pet dog behind the ears and opened the door to the log cabin in which he lived. The frisky German Shepherd bounced its nose against the bottom of the cooler that was now being carried under-arm, whining slightly as it did so.
"Just a minute Rover…then we'll see 'bout getting 'ya something to eat."
Resting the box on the counter, he reached into the cooler and pulled out an old P229 handgun, aiming it squarely at the dog.
Or where there used to be a dog…
And now there was a woman in a white cotton dress…
"She looks like a young Mary Steenburgen," Was the thought that flitted through Jack's mind as his eyebrows rose and his eyes widened in surprise.
She was wearing a very thin…form-fitting, white cotton dress.
And he was pointing the gun at her naughty place.
His gun didn't waver however, and she didn't look concerned, which meant one of two things; either she didn't recognize the gun as something that could hurt her…
Or he was in deep shit.
Jack spoke lightly as he warily backed away until his back bumped into the kitchen sink and his empty hand brushed against a hidden biometric scanner.
"Y'know, I once knew a guy who knew a guy that could do that…Change into a dog and back, I mean." He smirked slightly as he spoke.
Pretending to slouch against the side of the sink, he asked nonchalantly, "I don't suppose you're related?"
Instead of answering, the woman tilted her head to one side in a bird-like manner and asked him a question.
"How did you know that I was not what I seemed to be?" She said.
Jack's eyes narrowed as he recognized something about her manner, He groaned internally as his hand moved away from the panic button hidden behind him and punched in a four digit code on a panel to one side.
"For a starter," He said, "I don't own a dog." Speaking slightly louder in an attempt to hide the slight humming behind him he continued. "Neither do my neighbors last I heard and you were too clean to be a stray and besides…"
In a burst of white light an anti-replicator gun materialized in the sink and O'Neill blindly scooped it up and pointed both weapons at the artificial being that he suspected was standing before him.
"The security field surrounding my house would have kept out a normal stray animal." He finished tersely.
"Who sent you?" Jack growled.
It did not set his mind at ease that replicator (suspected but likely given his luck) didn't seem view the ARG as a threat either.
So much for a peaceful retirement…
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Earth, Minnesota 2049
The stars were out over Minnesota Sector when a narrow vertical rectangle of inky darkness opened up in a small forest clearing three and a half kilometers away from Jack's O'Neill's cabin, 2800 meters away from the shore of Lake Bob that was opposite Jack's cabin; with a a couple of small stands of trees between the two. It was a cloud covered night and the agent in the hidden transport factored that information in as deft fingers keyed in a projection path for the ZR27 extended range, self-spotting sniper rifle.
An unacknowledged, cloaked intelligence satellite had been appropriated for use in this mission, despite the heavy cloud cover, its passive detectors were still able to analyze and relay accurate data on the environmental factors at ground level in real time with a five minute projection on wind speed, surface temperatures, gyroscopic drift and their calculated cumulative effect on the projectile's kill-path.
Aside from a small herd of deer that the agent noted half a klick to the west, the were no large bodies moving through the forest and the only other blips were from various rodents and small predators moving about above, on and below ground, going about their nightly routine of survival, ignorant of what was about to happen.
The agent was not too enthused about what the way that the mission had turned out. In spite of this individual's current profession, the agent's was described in psychiatric profiles as an idealist and the man that was about to be killed was someone deeply respected and admired by the agent.
"Still," the person mused as dark eyes watched a cleaned up image showing the two blips within the house. In spite of the security field, which was of a slightly higher grade than what was normally, commercially available, on the monitor the green symbol for the general and the ice blue indicator for the bio-replicant, could clearly be seen located across from one another in the living-room.
"My orders are specific in the event of this scenario, damn that thing for getting to him first! Shit! Choodmarani!"
The figure within the transport sighed, what ever the agent thought, the orders given were clear; this was for the greater good… that was what the agent believed.
When, a few seconds later, the smart projectile indicated that its orders had been downloaded, the agent activated the small sound deadening field around the weapon and with a push of a button, fired.
The ZR27 was a smart rifle designed in late 2031 as a kinetic delivery system for the E6221 semi-autonomous smart projectile. The concentric cylinders that composed the barrel of the gun utilized modern knowledge of magnetic field geometries to create a very deadly weapon.
The inner barrel was composed of a Gauss-Rail or Walburn array. A series of pseudo-coils, made from a room temperature superconductor, each one thinner than a human hair, composed the length of the inner cylinder. Each individual pseudo-coil was coated with an inert, artificial resin and then weaved into the predetermined configuration before being evenly coated again to ensure the barrel's stiffness and that the coils would be protected when the weapon was fired.
The outer cylinder was a modified Halbach array that augmented the magnetic field within the barrel while canceling the external electromagnetic spike when the weapon was fired in order to minimize detection and to protect surrounding unshielded equipment. The Halbach array was also used to keep the projectile slightly out of contact with the sides of the barrel and in line with the central axis with an accuracy and precision that was calculated in femtometers.
Once engaged the augmented Walden array would generate a magnetic field the geometry of which from a lateral view of the inside of the barrel would look like a series of biconcave waves moving down the length of the barrel.
The majority of the smart bullet's mass was composed of an alloy with a high magnetic saturation point that would allow the field to accelerate the bullet up to a muzzle exit velocity of 1900 meters per second. The surface of the smart bullet was teeming with billions of nano-machines that used the EM spike and heat from the friction of moving within atmosphere of create pits and raise millions of micro-cilia in order to alter the surface of the ULD or ultra-low drag configuration of the projectile. If needed, the nanites could alter the very shape of the bullet and the individual micro-cilia could alter their profile in the wind.
There was zero muzzle-flash, minimal sound and thermal signatures, no moving parts other than the working fluid that vectored the minute resulting recoil into the gyroscopically controlled, electronic stabilizers. The nanites left behind in a wound could be programmed to alter the geometry of the wound tract to destroy evidence before deconstructing into compounds commonly found in the body.
The system was designed to work from a maximum range of six kilometers in a moving vehicle, while being shot at by the enemy and still put all four chambered rounds into a hole smaller than a pre-Earth Unification American dime.
The end result was a smart projectile that could be fired at extended ranges and within the limits of its initial momentum; moves from side to side, up, down or even turn 180 degrees as needed to engage single or multiple targets within its preprogrammed kill-path. The smart projectile had a mass similar to the projectile used in the now defunct 7.62x51mm NATO cartridge. The smart weapon was also capable of carrying an imbedded capsule that could contain a range of nerve agents, incendiary compounds or other devices.
Thus it was that the projectile was able to weave through the stand of trees and tree branches, pass over the lake, through another stand of trees, avoiding a hapless bat hunting insects before passing through the security field, altering its path slightly down, then sharply upward and then down again in order to enter through a slightly open window, turn into the living room ten meters away, in time for the device imbedded within the bullet to activate, and disable the two different types of nanites within O'Neill and the humanoid bio-replicant in a manner projected to rendering both individuals unconscious and inactive for a period of time no longer than five hundred and ten seconds.
All the while moving at supersonic speeds.
The two hadn't even had time to slump over in their chairs when the smart bullet altered its contours, flared it's micro-cilia and abruptly slowing its velocity in time to fall into the flames of the cabin's open fireplace. The nanites used the heat bloom and the abundant hydrocarbons to create a specific compound before self-terminating.
Within three hundred seconds smoke was billowing out of the windows.
Within five hundred seconds the blaze had spread from the living room into other parts of the house…
The agent closed the door to the transport and remained on watch until fire services arrived and the deaths of the general and his, to the general public, unknown companion were confirmed.
The investigation and other loose ends would be handled by others.
The agent left in the cloaked transport for the first of a series of arranged safe houses before a month later taking the GravLev in Kourou, Guyane up to Earth Union Space Station where the agent would discreetly join the intergalactic pleasure liner where if questioned, the passenger manifest, virtual messaging logs and a selection of fellow passengers and crew would say that this individual had always been for the past few months without ever having stepped on Earth in the last five years.
If the agent felt any remorse for what had happened there was always the fervent belief that what had been done was necessary to preserve the safety and security of the Terran Federation.
That was what the agent believed.
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Azura Space Station, Orbital Terminal of Quito GravLev, Departure Gate 52D, Civilian transport departing for the intergalactic liner Lustrious enroute from Sol to Elysium, Eden Star System.
The young woman smiled as her daughter finagled a sweet from a youthful couple on vacation. She listened with good humor to their stories about how shocked their grandchildren were to learn that they had been selected for the new somatic treatments, and how pleased they were to spend their 42nd wedding anniversary going on a third honeymoon to see the famous beaches on Eden and dragons hunt in the mountainous plains of Elysium.
And yes, wasn't she pleased to have such a darling child, and oh, she was meeting the father on Eden. Was he a Contractor? What? Oh yes, the Mediators were the ones that were humans but he's just there writing an article, I see a journalist.
A half an hour later they were aboard the Lustrious and the couple had gone off to try to get into the mosh pit in time to see the Mazes play on their silver reunion tour.
The woman stayed near a large panoramic view-port, watching as Earth fell away. As the ship opened a hyperspace window, her final thoughts in the Solar system were morose.
As the girl clutched his hand and pulled a half-eaten lollipop from her mouth, she turned to her mother and with the usual precociousness of a six year old said, something very mature. "Would you like to hear something comforting?"
The young woman looked over at her and slowly nodded.
"Even when the odds are against you suck it up! It could be worse! So when your back's up against the wall and there's no tomorrow, just take one day at a time and remember, the bigger they are…etcetera."
The woman stared for a second then she said. "You've been waiting fifty-nine years to feed that line right back to me haven't you?"
The girl smirked and held up a finger. "Fifty-eight"
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Ban Ki-moon Lagrange Point TFSF Spaceship Construction Yard Sol System, 2050
"-and in closing, I say again, we are reminded at this time of the chaotic days of our past…the sacrifices… the deaths due to our folly and we are reminded of those who stood forth and gave their fullest effort in those difficult times. As we must give here and now, I ask that you remember these sayings, dawn does not come twice to awaken a man and the saying. He who has health has hope; he who has hope has everything. I christen this vessel in remembrance of one who has given no more and no less, than his all!!"
-Amatsalām Ahlam al-Jamil bint Istfan ibn Sadad al-Mu'min, third Marshal of the Terran Federation's Joint Military Command during the Terran Federation Military Force's Flagship Commissioning and Launch of the DSBS J.J. O'Neill, first of its class –translated-
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GravLev: One of a number of construction projects in the aftermath of the resulting crises following Disclosure, the Gravimetric Elevator was a global project commisioned by the UN and later the Earth Union Assembly. Intended as an answer to the OPEC nations' cut in oil production in response to economic embargoes, the growing need for raw materials not readily available on earth as well as other industrial, scientific, social and political factors; the base station of the first GravLev was constructed off the coast of Kourou, Guyane in the Atlantic ocean on the equatorial line.
A cluster of three elevators, each one 1103 meters tall, composed of light-weight, high-strength materials rested on berths in the Kourou Base Station. Each elevator was made of a modular design comprised of several large cylindrical tubes bundled together, each tube was large enough to contain up to five supercarriers stacked vertically bow on stern and still leave space for five hotels, nine restaurants, eight swimming pools, a hospital, a casino, a public gymnasium, a theater, a shopping mall, a concert hall and more than two thousand private residences.
In addition to the large volume of freight that could be moved to and from Earth Union Space Station in geosynchronous orbit, the GravLev paid for itself. Equipped with multiple redundant inertial dampeners and a set of primitive gravimetric projectors that drastically reduced the effect of gravity and inertia on its mass, the GravLev provided a comfortable, fifteen minute ride into orbit as it pulled itself up along a set of light and incredibly strong nanotube-based, trinium/polycarbon tethers and cables that were also used to protect super-conducting power transmission lines from the Neutrino/Ion reactors in orbit aboard Union Station.
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A.N. Life is getting busier now for me so I decided to just edit the first half of what I was writing and post it as the second chapter. This was always intended for a willed future only I couldn't find a place for it until a reviewer gave me an idea. As for the Colonel general thing, since there was a comment before. As far as I know this isn't an actual rank used in the U.S. Air Force and I added it because it does exist in other foreign military organizations and the Earth Union and TFSF experienced a similar unification of military forces. I'd just re-read the Light Fantastic before writing the death scene for Daniel, Proof-read the story twice after I was finished and then twice again after a break and still there were errors when I checked again! TTFN