The Shadow Behind the Mirror

by Pale Wolf

Alternate universes were never a mystery. But the Shadow Mirrors, despite not having planned to be here, don't have any intention of leaving. Not until they're ready to fix home.

2. Chapter 01: Chaos

Disclaimer: No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is. If you recognize them from something that's not written by 'Pale Wolf', I have no legal claim to them. I still don't own some parts of the first chunk of this chapter, either.

The Shadow on the Other Side of the Mirror

By Pale Wolf

Chapter One

Chaos

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

General George S Hammond ran through the hall. The distance between his office and the command center hadn't seemed quite so much a problem when it wasn't a crisis situation that required him to shuttle between the two at a dead run. Those years of desk jobs were really starting to make him regret not keeping in better shape.

The figure he saw just before he passed through the briefing room soured his mood a little further. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Lieutenant-Colonel Bert Samuels turned around. Gussied up in full dress blues, hair slicked back as always. "Reporting for duty, sir. I'm to coordinate with the Pentagon."

Oh great, just what he needed... "By whose order?"

"The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs... at the request of Senator Kinsey? He... did try to contact you."

Hammond just shook his head. He'd heard nothing, and considering he'd just been at the phone in his office, they must not have tried very hard... "Maybe you can tell me why our forces haven't gone on full alert? If we don't get our assets moving now, they're going to be caught on the ground."

Once Hammond was done, Samuels looked back up. "The current thinking at the Pentagon is to do nothing that would alert the goa'uld that we know they're there."

... That could not be serious. "Let me guess whose bright idea that was."

"General Hammond. May I speak freely?" Without waiting for any actual response from George, Samuels continued. "I know I seem to have lost your respect, sir, for whatever reason..."

George's face twitched. This man had recommended the vivisection of the first alien to join them. And of a good officer under his command. If Samuels couldn't tell why Hammond could only barely tolerate him...

"... But we wouldn't be in this situation - that is, at the brink of war with the goa'uld - if you had heeded my advice, and buried the Stargate in the first place."

George raised an eyebrow. "... Was that an 'I told you so', Colonel Samuels?"

"I'm not here to point fingers, sir. I'm here to help coordinate our preemptive strike against the goa'uld ships." He stepped back, leaning against the corridor wall. "That's if the President approves - Joint Chiefs are briefing him now."

"And with what do you intend to strike?" If he was keeping their forces locked on the ground, there was no way they could get ASATs up there...

"A new weapon, sir. I've helped to oversee its development at Area 51 with Colonel Maybourne. Two prototypes are being prepared for launch at Vandenberg Air Force Base as we speak." He shrugged. "If all goes well, history shall mark this day with two brilliant and unexplained flashes that occurred in the night sky. The world should never know how close we came to Armageddon." He turned, walking into the briefing room.

Hammond just shook his head, following. The last wonder-weapon that would supposedly be a silver bullet for all problems was the F-4 Phantom that his wingman had been shot down in back in Vietnam... By decade-older, theoretically obsolete fighters.

His expression soured a little further when he saw the array of generals already in the briefing room. It was nice how Samuels had asked before commandeering George's facility for his plan. Hammond took up a spot at the back, standing.

Samuels stepped to the front of the room. "I'm sorry for the wait, sirs. There were a few issues, and we're short on time as it is, so I'll get right into this... The goa'uld's unexplained delay is, fortunately, buying us the necessary time to prepare. We'll launch a strike as soon as they enter orbit."

Hammond had to ask... and frankly, Samuels probably wanted a chance to explain how clever he thought he was anyway. "What makes this weapon of yours so special?"

Samuels smiled. Yes, George still had the measure of the man. He gestured to a computer monitor. "An otherwise ordinary W-78 nuclear warhead has been enriched, with a sample of the alien material - naquadah. The sample that SG-5 found and brought back a few months ago, in fact. The warheads should now yield in excess of one thousand megatons - each." Eyebrows raised across the room, it seemed at least a few of those officers were quite interested. "We call them our goa'uld busters."

Samuels grinned. "Our plan is to launch two rockets simultaneously into retrograde orbit." He keyed up a pretty visual display of the intended attack course, letting it play on the monitor as he spoke. "Now... the Mark 12G strike carriers for the warhead are made of stealth material, and shaped to reduce visibility. And, should go undetected by their radar."

"Assuming the gould have anything even remotely like radar." Hammond was reminded of how almost every Russian fighter since the eighties mounted infra-red sensors, near to impossible to stealth against. God knew what insane science fiction scanning technology the goa'uld used.

Samuels paused, meeting his eyes for once. "... It's our best shot, sir. And I'm sure the President agrees. Or he wouldn't have initiated countdown."

Hammond just shook his head. He didn't disagree that it was worth trying... He just didn't think they shouldn't even be preparing even one of the backup plans as they banked on a single prototype weapon that may not even go off.

"Currently, we stand at T minus... three hours. We'll hold at two minutes, while the goa'uld come within range." He stepped up to Hammond, shrugging. "... It's going to work, sir. The goa'uld should be taken completely off-guard."

'Should' had no damn place in Earth's one and only battle plan to avert extinction. If Samuels was looking for approval from his former commanding officer, he wasn't going to get it. "If you're wrong, every country on Earth will be caught off-guard. If it were up to me, I'd strongly recommend warning-"

"With respect, sir... It's not up to you."

Hammond nodded. "Clearly. I will have my protest of this course of action go on record."

"... Sir, when it works, it won't look good on your-"

"If it works, I'll gladly take the black mark on my record. If it doesn't, we'll all have bigger problems."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Colonel Vindel Mauser strode up into the bridge. Most of the staff just continued working at their consoles arrayed around the front as the commander stepped on deck. He might have smiled at the professionalism if he hadn't had a reputation to maintain.

One did step up to greet him, however - a slim eighteen-year-old asian girl, with short, dark hair. "Colonel."

He glanced around the bridge, noting a few mildly sparking consoles, and blood on some of the crewmen, floating in the air. "What's our status, Marita?"

"The bridge crew is putting things together now... we took fairly significant damage in the transition. Still no sign of the other ships... it's possible we lost them."

Vindel frowned. "... We're ripping holes in the fabric of space and time. They may be further out, or they may arrive in a week. I'm not prepared to write a million people off ten minutes after we get here. Where's Commander Cherenkov?"

Marita shook her head, moving up with him to the command console. "Almost everyone took injuries, sir. Commander Cherenkov and a few others were serious enough we had to move them to the infirmary. I'm taking over helm for now."

He glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Bit of a waste of your talents, Marita?"

"Where they're needed is where they're best put to use, sir."

Vindel shook his head. She never was going to relax around him, was she? "All right. I'll take over for the Captain for now."

She nodded, turning the Captain's chair for him.

He sat down. "I appreciate the gesture, Marita, but you don't have to do the little things for me." He turned the chair, buckling in. He could walk in zero gravity thanks to magnetic boots, but he'd really rather not go flying around, especially not if maneuvering became necessary.

"But you appreciate the gesture, sir."

Vindel rubbed his temples, and tapped the control keys on the display. Hm. Two of Shangri-La's reactors were down. Repair team... O'Neill and Walther. Well, those two would have the things in working order inside of the day. Some broken gun emplacements as well. "All right, what's our comm status?"

"Possibly the only thing that isn't a little broken, sir. We've sent out Flash. No response from Lykeios-0, 1, or 2, or from Annwn, Mahoroba, or El Dorado. We've got a Flash from W-14, though." She reached over his shoulder, tapping a few controls to bring up the comm log.

Of course, it was just a text message. Flash burst transmissions weren't very data-dense, but combined with Shadow Mirror's powerful encryptions, they were about as secure as was possible - in part because they were so short. He began reading it. "How did we end up in orbit? We were underground when we left."

Marita licked her lips, a bit nervously. "... I think we arrived in the wrong world, sir. We'd have to have one of the scientists check the System XN logs to confirm, but..."

"I noted the distinct lack of space colonies, yes. Lower-volume comm traffic as well. We can wait on the log check, Lemon's still missing and O'Neill and Walther have more immediate concerns."

"... That comm traffic, sir..."

He raised an eyebrow on getting to a point in W-14's report. "Indicates it's 1998 AD? I don't believe I've missed this badly since I was first in training." He glanced up at her, noticing her furrowed brow. She was trying to think of something true to say that would counter the self-criticism, wasn't she? "It was a joke, Marita."

"... Oh." She flushed slightly, looking down. Very cute kid. She was going to be a heartbreaker, if she ever bothered. He hoped she did, there was more to life than Shadow Mirror.

It was a joke, but Vindel had to note it was kind of true. He'd left from Colorado in 191 SE, and arrived in orbit in 1998 AD... He blinked. "... It seems we've arrived in a rather different chain of events. There was no alien attack in 1998 in our history. The ships are... hovering in orbit? Why hasn't it come to a fight yet?"

Marita nodded. "We were lucky, it seems we arrived on the opposite side of the planet from them. It is likely blocking their scans. I took the liberty of moving us into a synchronous orbit, we won't drift out from cover without applying further thrust. Locals haven't spotted us either, the stealth is holding up."

"Good work." He tapped his cheek. "... Now why haven't the locals fired a shot yet?"

"According to W-14's Flash, they're trying to keep the alien presence secret."

Vindel smashed his forehead into his palm. "A hundred and fifty years apart, and they do the same damned foolishness... Please tell me they at least aren't negotiating Earth's surrender. Again." If 'again' was even an appropriate word in this context... The English language wasn't really set up to deal with multiple universes.

"They aren't negotiating Earth's surrender, sir."

He glanced up at her. "That was actual fact, correct? Not just trying to comfort me?"

Small smile across her face. "Yes sir, it's actual fact. They seem to believe these aliens simply want to destroy them. They're apparently planning a sneak attack once these 'goa'uld' come in range."

"... Will they come in range? I'd just drop an asteroid if I wanted to bombard and didn't want survivors."

"Fortunately, sir, they haven't done so. Earthside command - specifically, the United States, we don't have much information about the other nations yet - isn't sure why they haven't acted yet, either."

Vindel raised an eyebrow. "How did Lemon's dolls get this much secretive information so quickly?"

"It seems W-14 and W-16 have been here for a few months, sir. They went to some known secret facilities of the time and have been exchanging basic information... We're basically set up, with fairly minimal committments."

"The locals don't know in general, right?"

"No sir, the man they're working with appears to be trying to use them - us - as his own ace in the hole."

Vindel chuckled. "It's good to see government black bag spooks never change. Well, horrible, really, but useful in this context."

"What do you want us to do, sir?"

He rubbed his chin. "For now, we'll focus on repairs. Get the hangar doors working, and those dud reactors. We've got time for now. Beyond that, we'll wait and see what happens. If the locals pull it off, there'll be no need to show our hand."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Bra'tac was turning out to be pretty useful, Daniel Jackson decided, as their new jaf'fa allies hauled the captured submachine guns out of the shipping crates. Not to mention having let them out of their cell, and brought them to the cargo room to equip. Daniel looked around the room. So many writings... he'd honestly like to take the chance to translate them at some point, but the fact that this ship was moving to wipe out Earth was a bit more pressing.

"Here are your weapons. You will need them." The old man pushed the weapons across the stacked crates, to O'Neill.

O'Neill glanced at the rest of the team as they were putting the various pieces of equipment - radios and survival knives and Daniel-didn't-even-want-to-think-of-what-else - into its proper places on their vests. Then back to Bra'tac. "Um, Bra'tac? You mentioned something about 'saving the world'? Care to elaborate on that?"

The elderly jaf'fa shook his head. "By assaulting Klorel, you have made that impossible."

Daniel blinked. "Why?"

Bra'tac sighed. "Among the goa'uld, a pharaoh's power is more often challenged by their sons, than by their enemies. Once we had joined battle with your world, I was prepared to lead my wing against Apophis. In Klorel's name."

Teal'c glanced at Bra'tac with a small smirk. "Apophis would assume your attack was ordered by Klorel, and reciprocate... A daring plan."

"I had hoped to drive a stake of mistrust between them. Now... I fear they will bond, against their common enemy."

"What bond? Klorel's dead."

Daniel winced, glancing at O'Neill in mute apology. They'd started in the SGC to save Skaara and Sha're, and now Skaara was gone, because Daniel had been careless enough to get caught...

"He will rise again."

"... The sarcophagus." Daniel... could not believe he hadn't thought of that.

"... Wait a minute. You put him in that thing, to bring him back?" O'Neill sounded angry... Daniel suspected he was less angry at Bra'tac, and more at himself for not considering it. Of course, at the time they could do it, it really wouldn't have been a good idea...

Bra'tac nodded. "I knew it would delay their attack until he arose."

Daniel glanced at his watch. It certainly had, at that... twenty-three hours had passed while they were unconscious from the goa'uld shock grenade and then getting let out of prison and brought to equip, and the world wasn't razed yet.

"Perhaps, when the warships of your world attack, we'll be able-"

"Ah-ah-ah... Excuse me." Carter interrupted, picking up her submachine gun. "Did you say the ships of our world?"

"... Surely you have such vessels."

O'Neill looked back at Daniel.

Daniel looked at O'Neill. "... Well, we have a number of... of..."

"Shuttles," they chorused, both grinning nervously.

"These... shuttles? They are a formidable craft?" Bra'tac had to ask.

"Oh yeah... yeah," O'Neill muttered, turning away. "... bad day..."

Daniel's jaw worked as he tried to think of something to say... but yeah. Bra'tac's plan was dependent on a bit more firepower than Earth could pump out... They were screwed.

Bra'tac could obviously read his expression, and frowned. The floor shook under them. Bra'tac stepped up to Teal'c.

He didn't need to say anything, though, Teal'c knew. "We accelerate. Klorel has risen."

Bra'tac nodded. "Then the campaign has begun. Once we launch, we will do what damage we can."

O'Neill looked up at the cluster of jaf'fa. "How many in your wing?"

He indicated himself, and the other two jaf'fa behind him. Daniel presumed they were rebels as he was, though they seemed content to allow Bra'tac to do the talking. "Three."

"... Three?"

Bra'tac looked at Teal'c. "Teal'c makes four."

O'Neill nodded agreeably. "Oh, well, four."

Bra'tac seemed a bit offended. "I have trained these warriors since they were cha'tik. They have sworn their lives to me." He shook his head. "It is no simple thing to ask."

"And we appreciate it, believe me. But what are the odds of taking out a ship like this with four gliders, and... maybe... a shuttle?"

Teal'c shook his head, meeting O'Neill's eyes. "A goa'uld attack vessel is heavily armed. Shielded, and capable of launching a legion of gliders against us. I would say... slim."

"Okay. Call me a pessimist? But I think it's time for a new plan."

Bra'tac almost growled. "We offer to lay down our lives for your world, human. You cannot ask more."

"No. I can't. But I think a better idea is to get the other guys to lay down their lives, for their world first, hm?"

Daniel glanced at Jack, trying to refrain from a chuckle. It would kind of ruin the intended effect if they realized O'Neill was borrowing lines from a movie about Patton.

The jaf'fa traded looks.

O'Neill turned to face Carter. "How long before the C-4 goes?"

She checked her watch. "Fourty-one minutes, sir."

He nodded, turning back to the jaf'fa. "Okay. With any luck at all, this ship is gonna blow within the hour. It might be a good idea for us to get to the other one. Can you do that?"

Bra'tac looked off to the side, thinking for a moment... and when he met O'Neill's gaze, he was beginning to smile.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

"That's it! They're in a geosynchronous orbit over the United States. Lock in that attack profile. And advise the President, we are go for launch." Bert Samuels hung up the phone, watching the monitors. This plan was his baby, and he wanted to see it through.

There were only thirty seconds left on the countdown, so the launch was soon enough. Two slim Minuteman ICBMs, one after the other, began to climb away on the plumes from their powerful rocket motors.

Sergeant Walter Harriman worked at the telemetry, and paused for a moment to listen on his communicator. "Vandenburg reports a good launch."

Bert grinned, pumping a fist. "Yes!" They were going to make it. He looked up to the side, and wilted slightly under Hammond's disapproving look. "... I'm sorry, sir. For what it's worth, I seriously doubt SG-1 is aboard those alien ships."

Hammond just turned to watch the tracking display.

"Weapons should reach the targets in... four minutes," Harriman reported.

Hammond nodded, glancing out the control center window - into the gate room, where another group was busily loading up. "In the meantime, let's keep moving these people through to the Alpha Site."

Walter reached for an intercom phone. "Group Nine, prepare to disembark."

Bert frowned, eyeing Hammond. "Sir... we might as well wait and see the result of our strike, before moving more people through."

"I don't think so."

"Sir, evacuation may be unnecessary." It'd be nice to be allotted a little faith.

"From your mouth to God's ears, Colonel. But I'm not hanging lives on the hope of a best-case scenario."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

For maneuvers this fine, a keyboard was required. There was a joystick, of course, and she certainly intended to switch to it if they ended up engaging.

Marita Grace carefully maneuvered the immense Trilobite-class battlecarrier, dropping altitude and allowing centrifugal force to pull them around the planet. Not all the way to the alien vessels, of course... just enough to give them a view as the USAF missiles approached. As Colonel Mauser had requested.

Colonel Mauser, for his part, was strapped into the captain's chair, looking at the available telemetry. "Have they spotted us?"

Marita looked at the screen, and shook her head. "... I don't know, sir. They're not reacting to our presence."

He nodded, cupping his chin. "Standing and not even calling us would be damned arrogant... I'd think at least sheer size would catch their attention."

"Radar and thermal stealth may be holding, sir. Or the ASRS."

"I don't plan to bank on it, and we can't hold it for more than a few hours anyway. Stand ready to bring up the shield and commence maneuvering if they take hostile action."

"Sir!" chorused all the staff on the bridge.

"All right... what's the status of the American missiles?"

"Nothing on radar, strong thermal signature. About one minute to impact." Marita's cheeks reddened, and she glanced at Sergeant Mansfield. Sensors was his job, she shouldn't have been... even if the control stations were interchangeable. He glanced back at her, winking before returning to his duties.

Colonel Mauser nodded. "Well, let's hope they pull it off. Just the same..." She could see him tap a comm control. "What's our repair status, O'Neill?"

Lieutenant Claire O'Neill's voice came over the bridge comm. "Not the best, bossman. Most of it's battened down, but reactor #13 is going all buggy again. Alex is taking a swim in the reactor to inspect it, and I'm pretty sure he'd appreciate it if you didn't turn it on while he was in there."

"I'll try. Very well, you've already set up the bypass?"

"Yup. I can cut it out and flare up Lucky as soon as we've got it fixed."

"It's unfortunate you're going to miss the fight."

"Eh, we're fighting... okay, we're fighting with blowtorch and wrench instead of gun and knife, but you get the idea. Maybe. Sort of."

"I'm not entirely sure you do, O'Neill."

"We'll keep, bossman, just don't keep us out of the next firefight! We're missing two in a row here!" She closed the comm channel.

Colonel Mauser chuckled, shaking his head. "All right, what's the status of their attack?"

Sergeant Mansfield glanced at Marita with a smirk. She went a little redder, shaking her head. "Estimated impact time in five. No maneuvering or countermeasures yet observed. And three."

The bridge went silent, everyone leaning forward to watch their displays.

The missiles slowly, inexorably approached...

And impact.

Mansfield whistled. "We've got defensive field showing on sensors. Those missiles were a gigaton, but I see no penetration."

Colonel Mauser seemed as composed as ever to casual inspection, but Marita could read how shaken he sounded. "A gigaton? That strikes me as rather beyond the twentieth century, on warheads of that size."

Marita looked back at him. "... It's possible they picked up some alien technology..."

Colonel Mauser nodded, frowning. "... Well, they don't have enough of it, W-14's Flash was quite clear that this was the only attack they had in mind with this technology. And with that electromagnetic pulse, they won't be able to organize any other forces. Or evacuate anyone beyond a handful of elites, for that matter."

"... Defensive fields tend to perform worse against lesser, sustained strikes than against singular powerful ones," Marita offered.

Colonel Mauser rubbed his temples. "Well. It's the only planet we have. Marita, begin bringing us around, slow ahead. Forrest, ready to bring up shields. Takeba, do a final confirmation of weapons readiness. And Mansfield, open up communications, as many frequencies as you can cover simultaneously, on my order. We'll see if we can't bluff them. And I'd rather confirm that they actually are enemies first, I don't really trust that source of ours yet."

"Sir!"

Marita began slowly shifting the Trilobite's course. Just enough to bring it forward, cruising calmly towards the strange, pyramid-shaped alien craft.

Colonel Mauser activated the shipwide intercom. "Shadow Mirror, I regret to inform you all that Earth's defence has failed. The armies on the surface, formidable though they may be, do not have the lift capacity to get up here and fight. We are the only thing between this world and the whims of this alien threat."

He sighed. "... This is not our world. Ours is lost to us, for now. However... this is Earth. And Shadow Mirror has always, and will forever, stand for one thing. Earth. Free. Just. And safe, for all time."

He stood up from his seat. "And every other world along with it! I know you are disheartened. We have just walked away from a defeat. Thousands of our comrades are yet unaccounted for. But we can carry on, in their name."

He took a deep, relaxing breath. "I'm going to ask you all to stand up, once more, even as wounded as we all are. Earth will never be safe as long as it does not have the will to fight whosoever would dare to challenge it. We are the ones who wished for eternal chaos, Shadow Mirror! A war, without end, on all those who would dare to harm the helpless! In an infinity of worlds, we will always find a home. And I do not wish to see even one such place destroyed."

He sighed once more, taking a seat again. "... But alone, I have only my one machine. To see that wish through, I will need you. Your peerless power, skill, and courage. I cannot force you into this. I can only ask. Will you help me?"

The roar of approval felt as though it shook the ship. That was impossible, but...

Colonel Mauser smiled. "... This enemy is an unknown, and we are outnumbered. I'm sorry for that. If I knew any way to correct that, I would have used it. But what I do know is that no matter what technology aliens bring to the table, there is nobody who does war better than humans. And no soldiers better than Shadow Mirror. We're in a bad situation right now. Every man we lose is irreplaceable, so I want you to be at your best out there. Use what you need to. But use it as well as I know you can. Stand ready."

He closed down the intercom, to applause from most of the bridge crew.

Marita didn't join in, but she smiled, looking up at him. ... Of course, there were reasons to fight other than the altruistic. For one, they didn't have any other planets to resupply at. But Colonel Mauser had explained it to her once. There were many reasons to fight... but never tell a man the selfish ones. Imply them if necessary, but focus on the reasons for fighting that he can be proud of.

Colonel Mauser waited for the short round of applause to finish, before he nodded. "Do it."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

The rings descended behind Apophis. Shortly afterward, they deposited their passenger, and retreated into the roof.

He didn't turn, simply booming out: "Klorel, it is time. You will burn their first city to the ground."

There was a moment of silence... What was wrong? Did he not wish to destroy the people who had wounded him?

"Father... the host you have chosen for me is strong. I fear I may need more time in the sarcophagus to gain strength-"

"You are strong enough! You are my son!"

He was about to activate the rings to send Klorel back, when a deep male voice came over the communicator. Speaking an unknown language.

"Father... that is the language of the Tau'ri."

Apophis's eyebrow rose. Ah yes... Klorel's host was important to the Tau'ri in some way. It would not be out of the question that they had taught him their language. "What does he say?"

Klorel looked a little nervous as he stepped up. "... He says... that he does not care who we are. He wishes us to leave this system immediately."

More words came.

"... He also says that surrender would be acceptable."

A growl built up in the back of Apophis's throat, as he began checking his ha'tak's sensors. Where was this transmission coming from? The surface? "You may tell him, Klorel, that I am his god, Apophis, and that if he kneels before me, I may yet spare him for this insolence!" 'May' being the operative word. Apophis did not really expect to make that decision, and he truly could not see an outcome where this fool's wagging tongue would not be cut off and fed to the pigs.

Klorel spoke into the communicator, transmitting to... well, everywhere, as they had not yet located this fool. This language was too weak, and frail. Inelegant and ugly, just like everything else about the Tau'ri.

There was a sudden flare on the sensors. ... The transmission was not coming from the surface... but from the truly immense, over-a-kilometer-long starship that had just appeared on sensors. Passive only, the active sensors still couldn't see it. Like those missiles the Tau'ri had sent a few minutes ago.

Apophis paused, keying in a visual enhancement - while well within range of passive sensors, it was beyond visual range. That was larger than an Asgard ship... perhaps this fool thought he could back up his words. But it was primitive. He could detect no shields, no naquadah... and the shape was simplistic. A single long rectangle, with an arrowhead-shaped nose, and a hammer-like bulge at the tail end of the arrow, as if it were emulating the Asgard ships.

Apophis shook his head. His two ships, though a great deal smaller, should handily take care of this oversized toy. He was a bit glad of it, really. This campaign would have been rather unsatisfying if those missiles were all the Tau'ri had to throw at them.

The man continued to speak. Klorel blanched, glancing at his father.

Apophis raised an eyebrow. "Speak, Klorel. They are his words, not yours."

"... He says... 'If you meet a Buddha, kill the Buddha. If you meet a god, kill the god. Salvation is from within, anyone who offers it is trying to get in your way.' ... And... he reiterates that he still does not care who we are, Father."

Smaller craft began separating from the large vessel. A fair number of them.

"I granted him opportunity to repent of this foolishness, but still he persists. Very well! All death gliders and al'kesh, launch immediately! Klorel, have your jaf'fa take command of your vessel. I wish you to see this."

Klorel bowed his head. "Yes, Father." He stepped back.

Apophis did not wish for Klorel's jaf'fa to see him in this moment of weakness. The humans were like sharks. They could smell your blood in the water.

He laid his hands in the controls. It was time to teach his son, first-hand, how the gods did battle. First, to move closer...

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Lieutenant Luis Virgil casually pulled off Shangri-La's catapult, moving his RPT-007M Gespenst Mark II up, and into formation alongside Lester Hornst's Gespenst, and Maria Balthazar's borrowed RAM-004V Lion, joining the air wing fanning out in orbit. He'd have preferred to have Walther in that Lion, his whole team, but it wasn't as much a loss as it could normally be, Balthazar's Randgrid was rather near to useless out in space.

Luis glanced at his sensor board. He was one of the last ones out... blocky A-12 Sorpresa strike fighters, sharply-angled multi-wing F-32V Schwert aerospace superiourity fighters, the aerodynamic-almost-humanoid Lions, rounded humanoid Gespensts... A total around sixty units. And of course, the immense Trilobite behind them. A good force, though he'd like to be taking more for an 'Earth's last line of defence' mission. He'd like to have Arklight Blue out here as well, but Mauser was apparently holding the kid and his next-generation Ashsaber back as a trump card.

The opposition flowing out of the pyramid ships was unpleasant to behold. Well, actually they had some decent aesthetics (they certainly looked better than the Sorpresas and Randgrids), but it was unpleasant to see that many arrayed against them. Ninety-six bird-shaped fighters, and twenty-four much larger... he presumed bombers. Forming up into a long wall, blocking the path to the pyramids. And then accelerating... Fast little buggers. Now to see if they had some mass to go with that speed.

Vindel Mauser's voice came over the radio. "Everyone, keep in units. Sorpresas are to split into three groups and deal with those bombers - four Schwerts to protect each group. Lions and Gespensts, open fire, acquire targets as you are able, you are air superiourity for now. Primary objective is to keep the weight of the small craft off Shangri-La. We will move in to engage the pyramids. Shadow Mirrors, form up, and advance!"

Fusion-powered thrusters fired, shoving Luis back in his cockpit chair as he pulled three gees in a straight line.

Luis opened up the team communications. "Hornst, Balthazar. Queue up missiles, we'll open fire as soon as we've got lock. One missile per, just to feel 'em out. We're going right down the middle while they suck on that."

Hornst laughed. "Same as always?"

"Right..." The kid sounded quiet. He'd had her in his team a while yet, though... he knew it wasn't so much that she was scared as that she wanted to get cracking. She'd better not use that Lion's greater agility to get ahead of him and Hornst, he didn't want the formation all strung out.

The good thing about working with an organization as insane as Shadow Mirror was that they all thought the same way he did, even without communicating with each other. Every machine that carried missiles fired them, as almost every single Shadow Mirror machine began to converge on the center of the enemy formation. Break them up first, then hunt them down and kill 'em.

They may have been outnumbered, but that was hardly new to them. They just had to be four times better to beat a force of this size. Easy.

A total of fifty units carried missiles, and each one fired a single MMM-12 'Split' at one of the oncoming birds, accelerating in right behind their curtain of missiles as the missiles dispensed their four sub-munitions.

The range shrank rapidly. Five kilometers became three almost in the time it took Luis to blink, and the missiles began to connect.

The maneuverability of those little eagles was, he'd reiterate, damned impressive, the things were pulling three and a half gees in a straight line, and pulling turns that would knock a man out flat. But for all that... there was minimal comm traffic. No jamming at all. No chaff, no flares, no countermeasures of any kind. And the days missiles could be evaded by just pure maneuvering had ended back in the twenty-first century, and they hadn't come back with three-gee acceleration. An extra half-gee wasn't going to change that.

Not much armour, either. Virgil had been worried there'd be shields, but single submunitions seemed to nearly split them in half, as the missiles dove into the group. Half of the missiles fired took an eagle out... the other half, well, pure maneuvering couldn't be relied upon to evade missiles, but apparently that much could give you a fighting chance. It wasn't the acceleration, it was the pilots, they seemed tough enough to pull much sharper maneuvers than one should. Their maneuvering was strangely sloppy, though.

With a quarter of the eagles blotted out in the first round, Luis spared a moment to regret not having fired off everything he had. If he'd known they worked so well, he'd have loved to end it all in one go, but now they were getting closer, where the Splits were less effective and it was all going to turn into a dogfight...

He brought up his MP-23, putting a hole through one of the eagles. No attempts at dodging before he fired, probably not aware an attack was coming, and after... well, there was no dodging relativistic particle beams after they'd been fired.

The other Gespensts experienced a fair bit of success with their own particle beams. And to his left, Balthazar tapped the trigger of the railgun mounted on... really, the railgun that comprised the Lion's left arm. Her first few rounds missed, but while the MP-23 fired a bit slow, the Lion's MRG-1 fired a hundred thin hypervelocity flechettes in about a second, she corrected her aim almost instantly, walking fire across her target and pretty nearly cutting it in half.

Finally, the eagles began opening fire... but it all went wide. The nearest shot - seemingly a thick orange bolt of some kind of energy, but way slower than the particle beams - came about five meters off a Sorpresa's stubby wing.

"Jeeze Louise," Hornst muttered. "It's like they don't even have targeting..."

"Maybe not," Balthazar muttered. "But I'm not going to complain because the bad guys are bad shots."

"At least we can't back away now, with their speed. It'd feel kinda unfair just stomping on them from out of their range."

"Hornst, the only unfair advantage is the one the other side has," Luis snapped. "Let's get in there, they haven't broken formation yet." He accelerated his Gespenst, bringing the twin GF-400-3 reactors up to their full rated military thrust.

"That old adage? Seriously? Yessir." Hornst accelerated to catch up to him.

Balthazar put on a bit too much burst, and began to outpace him before she lightened up on the throttle to let her squadmates catch up.

And the Vigil squad dove in, at the head of the Shadow Mirror arrow. Right into the heart of the fighter formation, which was quickly consolidating towards the center to engage them.

The massive battlecarrier accelerated, dozens of kilometers behind them... slowly by the standards of this battle, but very, very fast in its own right. Beginning to glow as it diverted power to its own shields.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Hammond leaned over Walter Harriman's shoulder, frowning. "... What the devil is going on up there?"

Walter shook his head, checking the radar display. "... I don't know, it looks like the motherships are launching fighters, but they're milling around in orbit for some reason..." He frowned, rewinding the display and playing it forward again. "No, wait, about a third of those fighters... just kind of appear several kilometers away from the motherships."

"Get me an image enhancement on their arrival point. I want to know where the hell they came from."

Walter nodded. "Processing now..."

Samuels looked up from his seat in the corner. The man looked a lot less neat and tidy than before his plan's spectacular failure. Quite demoralized, and Hammond's refusal to allow him to go off and run and hide on the Alpha Site after he'd screwed this planet probably hadn't helped. "... probably more goa'uld dropping in out of hyperspace... Maybe they thought we weren't doomed enou-"

"... Whoa." Hammond and Samuels looked to Walter at that outburst, and he probably would have been embarassed by it, except both of them had caught sight of the display he was staring at, and also proceeded to stare, slack-jawed, at the long shape on the screen, that the oddly-shaped fighters could be seen launching off of. "... Image enhancement's in, sir." Just the low-level for now, but it was enough.

Hammond paused, taking a deep breath. "... How the devil did that thing not show up on radar? It's the size of a city."

Walter swallowed. "It still doesn't, sir... maybe it's radar-stealthed."

"... That's impossible."

Hammond looked at Samuels strangely. "We just did it ten minutes ago, so can they."

Walter moved the image a little. It still wasn't fully enhanced, but... "Sir? You might want to take a look at this."

Hammond turned to look at the screen. "... They're charging at each other. Those are battle formations." It wasn't a hard guess to make, with the battle line the fighters off the motherships were making, and the arrowhead shape the mystery units formed, apparently trying to split through it.

Samuels snorted. "Great. A rival goa'uld's decided to challenge this one for the right to destroy us."

"That may be so, but as long as they're shooting at each other, they're not shooting at us. We need to make use of the time." Hammond turned to Walter. "Continue evacuating people to Alpha."

"Yes sir. I don't think the battle will last long enough to get our forces off the ground, though, sir."

Hammond shook his head. "You're right. Not with the EMP from the blasts. We're still helpless." Walter was very proud of his commanding officer for not casting a glare at Samuels when he said that. "Continue to gather data for now. I'll be informing the President of this new development."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Del'rak was not a jaf'fa to feel fear. Even now, seeing the incredible range and precision of these monstrous Tau'ri weapons, the seeming ease with which they killed jaf'fa from five times the distance death glider cannons could be expected to hit, he still felt no fear.

He knew that with the blessings of Apophis, and the courage of jaf'fa who did not need such petty tricks, they would be triumphant.

He had been in a dozen campaigns before, and would be in a dozen after this. It had always been the way, and it would always be.

And as the range reached a kilometer, the death gliders' fire began scoring hits, as did the gunner for Del'rak's al'kesh.

The hits were not as telling as Del'rak would have liked - just one of those solid humanoid machines was very well-armoured, taking four solid hits to finally bring down. But they were slower... the gliders would prevail.

Meanwhile, he had his own mission, jerking his al'kesh up and over a nearly solid wall of those brilliant red beams, and readjusting course... He would be past the bulk of their formation in a matter of seconds, and then his al'kesh would begin bombing that huge ship.

"I got one, Master Del'rak!" his gunner cried.

"Do not celebrate yet! There are dozens more!" Del'rak snapped back.

"I'm sorry, si-! Incoming fire from behind!"

Del'rak growled to himself, diving as four red beams tore through just a hair above. Shifting the display to show the enemies to the rear, he frowned... several of those humanoid machines had somehow flipped to face back at him in a mere instant. They were still moving away, but facing towards him. Then with sudden flares from their outstretched hands, they spun again, and accelerated upward in a group as a flurry of glider fire soared past underneath them.

He considered himself fortunate to have shifted his display to the rear, when he caught sight of a group of eight accelerating towards him. Four much sharper, more predatory-looking fighters to the rear, but the four in the front were small, stubby-winged little toys. Each of the stubby ones began firing a pair of those red-beamed cannons at him... single shots, they fired slower than staff cannons, but having seen death gliders torn asunder by them, their power and speed was plain to see.

He'd already realized that there was no hope of dodging such fast weapons after they had been fired. So he had steered to the side as rapidly as he could before they fired. Two still tore a hole in the back of his al'kesh.

Del'rak gritted his teeth. The stubby fighters were slower than the rest, but they were still faster than his al'kesh. There would be no outrunning or outmaneuvering them...

He tilted his al'kesh's nose down, shutting off the thrusters. That would leave him cruising forward at his current speed... and give the paired staff cannon on the belly a clear field of fire to destroy them. He smacked his gunner in the shoulder. "Shoot them down!"

"Yes, Master Del'rak!" The younger jaf'fa beside him clamped down on the trigger, and began weaving the staff cannon after the fighters on their tail.

They maneuvered wildly, scattering away from the plasma bolts... but a single bolt did connect with one. It simply tore a groove down the machine's side. They returned fire with another brace of red.

Fortunately, Del'rak had tapped the thrusters when he saw them lining up to fire. Another two still exploited the holes in the back of his al'kesh, sending a shudder through the entire craft as armour plating exploded.

"I said shoot them down!"

The gunner's bolts had taken a loss in accuracy when he began moving, but when he let off the thrusters, the aim quickly adjusted, and a paired staff-blast connected with the fighter that had kept hitting him, tearing off its left wing.

Del'rak began wondering what magics these Tau'ri had when the one-winged fighter continued to fly - not as well as before, but still maneuvering very sharply.

But his faith in Apophis was rewarded, as simultaneously, all four pulled off to the right, followed a moment thereafter by the seemingly more agile fighters... he presumed they were escorts against the gliders.

Ven'tal's al'kesh, to the right, shuddered, as the younger jaf'fa began screaming over the communication network. It seemed they'd picked an easier target... one not quite so favoured by Apophis.

Del'rak accelerated. Apophis had granted him this opportunity to serve, and he would make full use of it.

The massive ship loomed ahead... and there were no obstructions. He tapped his communication device. "Bombardier, begin dropping our plasma charges."

He waited a moment... and the first set was away, pelting towards the arrowhead nose of the Tau'ri craft.

He dove, preferring not to find himself on a collision course this soon. Should Apophis will it, he would, but he could still live to serve his god.

But then, with shocking speed, the nose of the approaching battleship descended. His craft was more maneuverable... but there simply wasn't time anymore.

Del'rak's al'kesh, and plasma charges, nearly disintegrated against the massive ship's hull.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

"Lowering nose now," Grace's voice came over the intercom.

"Ah crap," was the most eloquent response Alexander Walther could manage, curling up into a ball as the ship began diving.

Several gees of acceleration slammed him up into the top of the reactor chamber. Ooooh yeah, that was gonna bruise.

There was a light 'thump'. "Enemy bomber impact. Penetrated outer tesla screen, halted by second layer of armour. Threat neutralized. Tesla screen is back to full power in the region."

He cast a glare up as he heard Claire O'Neill giggling over the short-range tactical radio. "I'm not drawing those straws again, you damn psychodriver! Fair and even trade of the duties next time!" Especially with that loon flying.

"Unless I catch you when you're sleeeeepy again...~" she singsonged back down.

... Fuck. Yeah, she probably was going to catch him again, too. Damned engineering hours. He shook his head, and moved to the current 'bottom' of the (inactive) reactor chamber - it was actually the back wall, but since Shangri-La was accelerating forward at constant thrust, unsecured things fell 'back', which was near enough to gravity to work with.

At least he'd remembered to tie his glasses in place, if they fell off in this protective suit, he wasn't going to be seeing a damn thing beyond some really pretty blurs.

He slowly walked along the back, trying to get up to the bottom before Grace pulled another jerky maneuver and flung him into the wall again. He was pretty sure he'd spotted the problem before he got slammed into the ceiling. A problem, at least.

Claire came over the radio again. "Got something in there? The external rams are clear."

"I think so. Going to need to latch onto it if I want to do anything, though."

"Need any help? I want to go check the generators."

"Go ahead, I'll call if I need you."

Grace's voice came over the intercom again. "Port yaw in three... two..."

Alex rushed the last few steps, and immediately attached his grappling hook to the nearest solid component - and was glad of it a second later as the immense ship pulled two gees to the left, slamming him into the right wall.

Not as glad of it as he'd have liked to be, but at least he wasn't going to have to travel down to the bottom the slow way again. As the acceleration dropped off, he immediately tapped the winch control switch on his waist, the cable pulling towards the bottom of the reactor. And the forward thrust was gone, so there was no more 'gravity' pulling either way.

Grace's voice over the intercom gave him a sudden burst of irritation, before he realized what she was saying. "Clockwise rotation in five... four..." The reactor was on the port side of the vessel, so it would generate a downwards g-force. It'd slam him, but it'd slam him where he was at least trying to go. "... one... now."

Alex braced his legs, trying to soften the landing, and while still getting pressed down by double his weight, shortened up the slack on his anchor cable as much as he could.

The upwards g-force when Grace stopped the clockwise rotation - directing an equal but opposite amount of force - did shove him upwards, but thankfully he was better-anchored, so he just kind of drifted up a meter or two before coming to the end of the cable. Still gave him some new harness bruises when he came to the end of the cable, but he'd live.

And now... he reeled in the rest of the way, hunkering down over the bottom of the fusion reactor and looking down. "Yeah, it's definitely the bottom fuel injector, O'Neill."

"Have we got replacements for that?"

"Yeah, but not time. No need." He pulled out a pair of pliers, and, putting both arms and the entire strength of his... distinctly lacking in strength... frame into the effort, bent the offending projection back into shape.

He'd want to do some real repairs or replacements soon enough, but that should get the spheromak working. If it fouled up, the reactor would simply stop causing fusion, so there wasn't any real danger to a kludge for now. Didn't have time for anything fancy in combat.

"Nice. We clear to run her up?"

"Not yet, I want to make sure my getting slammed around didn't breach the aerogel containment layer. And, you know, let me get out of the fusion reactor before turning it on."

"Oh right, that!" He could hear her grin. "So, having fun yet?"

He paused, glancing into the mirrored surface of the bottom. Oh yeah. He was grinning.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Teal'c stood outside the door to the pel'tak, waiting a moment as the rest of the group caught up.

It had actually been a fairly amusing trip, watching O'Neill and Master Bra'tac repeatedly trying to outdo each other... To be honest, he had been surprised when O'Neill kept up in every encounter, despite being all of a third of Bra'tac's age and experience.

The ship shuddered again, and tilted wildly for a moment as the inertial dampeners readjusted. Teal'c braced himself and did not stagger, though Daniel Jackson fell across the hallway and slammed into the opposite wall.

Teal'c stepped across to Daniel Jackson, lowering a hand to help pull the younger man up. "Are you uninjured, Daniel Jackson?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine... what the hell is going on?"

Teal'c glanced at the bridge. "It seems this ship is embattled." Things like this had been very much slowing their travel to the bridge...

O'Neill frowned. "Well, I guessed that much, but who? Apophis?"

"I do not know."

"This is a blessing in disguise," Bra'tac noted. "Few jaf'fa on the pel'tak will be paying attention to anything but the battle. Storming in will be simpler."

Samantha Carter blinked. "So, just walk in and shoot them in the back?"

"In essence. It is better than my original plan."

O'Neill nodded, checking his equipment. "I can do that..." He moved up to the right-side door, waiting against it, zat'nik'tel braced in both hands.

Teal'c stepped up to move in after O'Neill, followed by the rest of SG-1. Bra'tac and his other two students - Jal'rem and Far'sor - could handle the left entrance, switching to zat'nik'tels lest they destroy equipment that they still needed to get off this ha'tak.

O'Neill nodded to Bra'tac.

Bra'tac nodded in reply, and stepped around the corner, levelling his zat'nik'tel and opening fire as he strode in, followed by his students.

Teal'c found O'Neill's motion... strange. Rather than simply stepping out into the door, he smoothly flowed around the corner, squeezing off shots as he went. He'd seen it before, but he had never quite gotten around to asking what the purpose of that movement was.

Teal'c would have observed more, but the entire action took about six zat'nik'tel discharges and one and a half seconds. By the time he entered the room in O'Neill's wake, the four Serpent Guards in the room (two at the controls, and two guarding) were already writhing on the ground, and O'Neill, Bra'tac, Teal'c, and Far'sor each fired one more zat'nik'tel blast to finish them off. Klorel hadn't been there, it seemed.

As soon as Daniel Jackson - the back of the group, carrying two of the Tau'ri weapons to serve as rear guard - was inside, O'Neill twisted the controls to shut the right side door, and overloaded it with his zat'nik'tel. "That'll hold them, right?"

Teal'c nodded as Bra'tac moved up to the controls. "Not as long as previously, but as long as we require." Jal'rem overloaded the left door, locking them in.

The ship shuddered once more, and all seven turned to look out the window. And blinked, more or less in unison.

A truly gigantic ship was visible, its top facing Klorel's ha'tak, arrowhead nose pointing off to the right. Exchanging massive flurries and volumes of fire with both ha'tak... Well, now that they'd killed the crew of Klorel's, only Apophis continued to fire, alongside them.

It seemed to casually absorb Apophis's heavy staff cannon on a strange glowing shield that seemed bonded tightly to its outer hull. What penetrated the shield simply slagged off the armour.

And then it returned fire, with an absolutely astounding amount of weapon stations. A strange mix, red energy beams slamming into Klorel's ha'tak, followed up shortly by what appeared to be primitive... but powerful... projectile weapons, as the Tau'ri used. A mixed volley of at least twenty independent shots tore into the shield surrounding Klorel's ship, and the orange light paled.

There were fighters embattled between the ha'tak and the strange ship. Death gliders and al'kesh, versus... strange, oddly-shaped craft. The strange craft were outnumbered, but that numerical advantage was shrinking rapidly. And even more so as a wing of four death gliders, having escaped the dogfight and slipped past, approached the massive ship, and were cut to ribbons by streams of fire from the ship's surface when they were still a kilometer out.

Bra'tac was the first to find words. "... I thought you implied your shuttles were not a formidable craft."

Teal'c slowly shook his head. That... was not a shuttle. Or anything he'd ever heard of in his time on Earth. Or with the goa'uld... He had never seen them face an opponent who could provide credible opposition in a space battle... let alone one that seemed to be winning.

O'Neill blinked, looking at Bra'tac. "... That's not another gould ship?"

"... I have never seen its like before. Or even heard of such."

O'Neill nodded, staring out the window. "... I want one."

Daniel Jackson coughed. "... No comment."

There was another long moment of staring.

Samantha Carter cleared her throat. "Um, not to interrupt, but between them shooting at us and the charges going off in two minutes, maybe we should, um, leave?"

"Yes," O'Neill agreed. "Leaving good. Exploding bad."

Bra'tac nodded sharply, leaning forward and going back to work on the controls. "I had hoped to direct Klorel's ship close enough and then disable the shield generators of Apophis to destroy both in one blow, but we took too long to arrive. There won't be enough time, we shall have to find another way to deal with Apophis." He moved to the back of the pel'tak. "Come."

The group clustered around him, weapons up. They would be going through fighting... Klorel would have made a useful hostage, but that was infeasible when he was not there.

The light shone down from above, and with their characteristic whine, the rings descended.

The world shifted, and the rings ascended once more.

Teal'c immediately located Apophis, who was facing away from them and focusing on the control panel, and fired. The zat'nik'tel blasts simply fizzled off against the cylindrical personal shield he must have activated, though.

O'Neill's burst of fire took down one of the Serpent Guard who had begun bringing staff weapons around to face them, as SG-1 and the jaf'fa began running for the door.

A combined burst from Far'sor and Jal'rem brought down another Guard, and Samantha Carter unleashed a long burst from her Tau'ri 'submachine gun', killing the third guard, tracking bullets across Klorel as well, though they were simply deflected off his shield.

Apophis whirled around. "Bra'tac! How DARE you betray me?" He was not actually being slow to notice, they had only been on the pel'tak for a few seconds.

Had he the time or the breath, Bra'tac would likely have made his declaration of intent against Apophis somewhat more eloquent than simply firing his staff weapon and killing the last guard before he moved for the door.

As Klorel ducked to pick up one of the staff weapons from the dead Serpent Guard, Teal'c ran for the door. They didn't have anything ready to penetrate the shields, and with no Nox about, they were not going to be resurrected if they died to a shielded goa'uld again.

A moment of fear... would Klorel bring the staff weapon up before he made it out?

And then he was through the door, barreling into the wall beyond it. Just a single step to the side and he'd make it to cover...

Then he heard the distinctive hiss of a staff weapon. The cry of pain was not his own, though, and as he turned and shifted away from the line of fire, he realized Daniel Jackson had stepped in front of the blow, beginning to fall. Teal'c caught him under the arms and dragged him away.

And O'Neill and Bra'tac cut off pursuit as they simultaneously shut the doors, and scrambled the controls with zat'nik'tel discharges.

O'Neill turned to Daniel. "... Dammit..."

"Just leave me behind! I'll just slow you down!" He hissed in pain. His right shoulder looked like a mass of burnt meat.

"Not an option, Daniel!"

Daniel Jackson jerkily shook his head. "We're all going to die when this ship blows anyway! Leave me!"

"You will die as you have fought, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c stated, shifting the limp archaeologist and hefting him up on his back. "Alongside us."

"Bu-"

"Ah!" O'Neill interrupted with an upraised finger. "Shut up and save your strength, you talk too much all the time."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Apophis looked proudly on his son as the younger goa'uld attempted to batter his way through the sealed doors. His ferocity had recovered admirably. "Leave it, my son." He turned his attention back to the battle, frowning. This was not going anywhere near as easily as it should.

"But, Father-"

"Leave it! We have larger concerns. And two thousand jaf'fa aboard this vessel. Task them. I require you to operate the weapons."

Klorel nodded, realization dawning. "... Of course, Father."

Apophis, for his part, was watching the battle with a growing sense of irritation. Active sensor scans weren't working... he simply had no way of knowing how much he was hurting the large ship, if at all. And with Klorel's ha'tak crew apparently dead, his anti-ship firepower was more or less cut in half - and the two ha'tak together had not been doing enough damage to be sure of.

The fighter battle... he could not expect any support from that sector, his jaf'fa were showing themselves to be singularly useless, their number rapidly shrinking faster with every passing moment. The more accurate weapons used by the enemy humanoids had consistently dominated the battle. Despite their inferior acceleration, they showed rather spectacular bursts of agility, and were much tougher to kill even when hit than they should be.

And there was something... else, about the way they fought. Something he couldn't define, or explain. The differences in performance were, if anything, the smaller factor - he had paid some manner of attention to the battle, and had consistently seen that even the superiour mobility of the death gliders wasn't playing in as much as it should have.

There was a sample of it right now in front of him, and he zoomed in the visual to watch - a death glider was settling in behind one of the moulded humanoid forms, and trying to shoot it as it skipped from side to side, spun madly, and generally made itself difficult to hit. He watched it weave to the side, moving towards another such machine that was also being followed.

They turned towards one another... and then faced one another. The first death glider stood in front of the second humanoid, and the second death glider was in the first humanoid's line of fire. And their own red-beam shots, destroying the death gliders, were much quicker than the gliders had had it.

As if to rub it in, as the two passed one another, the left hands of their machines reached out, catching and gripping together, and the pair spun around one another for a moment before angling away together. That particular team had already done this exact same trick three times. And that was just one sample of what they continued doing to his forces, it was hardly their only trick.

The Tau'ri should not have been capable of this. The Tau'ri were not capable of this. The skill... that, he would credit. Certainly after the mockery the Tau'ri soldiers had made of his jaf'fa time and again, most recently in - admittedly with the help of the traitor Bra'tac - fighting their way through Klorel's ha'tak and over to his. They were surpassingly skilled at warfare, and he would be glad of it when they were either bowing before him, or dead to plague him no longer.

But he'd sent a cloaked tel'tak ahead to scout in preparation for his campaign. They did not have battleships such as this.

Apophis was not stupid. He was quite aware that if it could hide from him, well within sensor range and yet completely unseen, it could just as well hide from his scout ship. But they did not have facilities to build such vessels. There had been excitement built up in their media transmissions (a waste in and of themselves, to an unheard-of degree) about a pitifully primitive 'shuttle', barely the size of an al'kesh, even getting into orbit, let alone actually doing anything interesting while up there - it apparently had a launch planned today.

He frowned. ... Perhaps the slight hammerhead flare at the end of the front section wasn't a nod to Asgard design, but an indicator of Asgard design. It was larger than an Asgard ship, and nowhere near the performance he'd always observed from them, but it could, perhaps, be a gift. A cheaper, easier to manufacture vessel to give the lesser races a defence. That would fit in with the habits of the Asgard... He would have to look into the possibility later. They had been remarkably quiet lately.

As Klorel fired the ha'tak's brace of staff cannons (or at least the thirty aiming in that direction, the other half of the ship's armament faced off uselessly to the opposite side, and would no matter which way the ha'tak faced), the enemy craft returned fire with one hundred cannon blasts, somewhat over half of them those beam weapons, the other half simplistic cannons... Simplistic though they may be, they were still powerful, and this one more concentrated volley weakened the shield strength and emitters of both ha'tak to the point where blasts began connecting against the hull, shaking them even worse than they had been beforehand.

Apophis stared to the scanners in shock as, beside his own ha'tak, Klorel's... suddenly erupted in flame, quickly extinguishing as there was no air to feed it. "What?"

Klorel swallowed. "... They have destroyed one of our ships, Father."

Apophis was a goa'uld. He did not like to contemplate the possibility of defeat, and he rarely had cause to do so. But he was one of the most dominant among the System Lords, and part of that was due to having the ability to respond to changing circumstances. He was losing. With that massive ship now free to turn its full firepower to him, his lone ha'tak could not be expected to last long.

Acknowledgement done. Next step: How to survive. He could run, but even if he fought to the end, his ha'tak could be considered expendable, the cloaked scout tel'tak was still available in the region to use for withdrawal. Which meant he could think about how to win and risk the ha'tak and jaf'fa, and the stargates aboard his ships - they could all be replaced in barely a decade, losing them would be a defeat, but not one he couldn't recover from handily enough.

The answer to how to 'win' was simple. They wished to protect this world... but he was faster, if the acceleration of the vessel he had seen so far was accurate. Perhaps he could not destroy their ship, but he could certainly destroy a city or two to force them to surrender. If they wouldn't, well, a few destroyed cities was still a 'win' for him, and he had his escape route ready. Better to get something out of two destroyed ha'tak than nothing out of one.

He wrenched the ha'tak around, aiming down, and accelerated at full thrust. Straight down, it didn't really matter what city he came near to first, he'd let this world's rotation decide it for him. And he had a hundred kilometers 'down' to go, with an exceedingly large warship he expected to be following behind him - this was not the time to be picky regarding his targets or with a lead any shorter than he could possibly achieve.

"Klorel, find the largest city within range of our line of descent, and target it." He would normally prefer to simply fire from high above, but his weapons' power degraded sharply when firing through a world's atmosphere, and he needed the possibility of instantly causing casualties unacceptable to them to really get the point through. "And until we are in close range, put all power to drives and shields." They'd be out of effective weapons range anyway, and the ha'tak only really possessed enough power to keep any two of its major systems functioning at full capacity - normally, they didn't require the power to run the hyperdrive alongside the shields and weapons.

Another scattered volley of energy beams and cannons slammed into the rear, the sudden jolt slamming Apophis's face into the control panel before the inertial compensators caught up.

He brought his left hand up to his face and flicked away the blood, growling. This pitiful world would pay a thousand times for their insolence!

"And Klorel, tell me the words for this..." He'd heard Klorel's voice... the boy had talent, but he just did not have the delivery satisfactory yet.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

"Target splashed!" Mansfield reported, surprise in his voice.

Vindel frowned. "We weren't firing, were we, Takeba?"

The young woman shook her head. "No sir. Possible we set something off with that last big volley."

"Or an onboard infiltrator, or onboard incompetence. Don't make any assumptions until we confirm it." Vindel leaned back in his seat, watching the battle, the hard maneuvering, the vicious exchanges of firepower... he'd really rather be out there, but Zweizergain wasn't really operable. While his Mk II was still sitting in the bay with the reserve squadron, he was a better commander than he was a pilot. Shangri-La required a captain, and he couldn't afford to distract the pilots out there with keeping him safe just because he wanted to get into the action himself.

"Remaining target is turning."

Vindel leaned forward again. "Trying to expose a less damaged side...? Send another volley at them, Takeba."

"Yes sir, most batteries are still reloading, but we've got a few ready to go." Of course, she wasn't waiting to finish saying that, she was keying in the commands even as she did. The Trilobite-class carrier could fire all its weapons via computer control and automation, and the CIWS stations were still mostly automated (target designation was controlled by battery officers to prevent the AI from doing anything unwise, though in a pinch they could be dispensed with and the ship controlled entirely by the bridge crew).

But for many roles, humans (with computer assistance) still did it better, and the Shangri-La carried more than enough bored and very antsy personnel to operate its hundred cannon batteries. With a simple timer sent to the available weapon stations, twenty heavy beam cannons and another ten wide-bore scram cannons fired together - the scram cannons first to give their slower projectiles time to reach that pyramid, and then the beam cannons, timed to allow the thirty blasts to connect with the enemy ship simultaneously.

The enemy ship rocked, the shields were no fresher on this side, and a good tenth of the massive spoked-wheel superstructure surrounding the pyramid shattered off... and then it began accelerating away. Downward.

"Enemy ship moving for the surface! Course, counting Earth's rotation... over western Russia, sir!"

Vindel growled. "Can't win in a fight so they're going for the planet, hm? Get us after them, Marita."

Marita simply nodded, speaking into the intercom. "Nose starboard and up... now." Everyone braced and began tightening up their muscles to keep blood flow to their brains from changing too much - more a matter of habit than necessity, this maneuver was far below the 'knock out' threshold - and the kilometer and a half long ship rapidly reoriented to face downward. "Full forward thrust... now." And then they rocked back in their seats as the immense ship accelerated, faster than any 1998 fighter jet, even on afterburner. Minor bursts of thrust played off its top side as it began countering the rotational momentum it had already possessed from orbit, adjusting course to the fastest possible 'straight downward'.

Takeba had obviously had the cannons reorient to face forward, as another burst of fire rippled down after the enemy ship. Not the beam cannons, Shangri-La's fusion plants funneled power directly into thrust, so the ship was already going to minimal power draw to keep its full thrust potential. But the scram cannons were the primary armament anyway, and shattered off more chunks of the hull.

Takeba frowned. "... Insufficient damage, sir. Shields are starting to recover, we can't keep up the old rate of fire and it's getting harder to hit. Should I use the main armament?"

Vindel frowned. "... Negative, they're widening the gap, they'll have time to intercept, if they have the thrust to catch up at all. And with their shields back up, it's likely anything short of nuclear bombardment won't take them down in a single burst. We'll cause worse casualties than we hope to prevent if we load nuclear." The majority of Shangri-La's burst armament was in its very, very large amount of missiles - unfortunately, Vindel couldn't afford to use them except in an emergency, they were irreplaceable until 22nd-century manufacturing facilities were active. And now that an emergency had come, they wouldn't be much use... It was around now that he was very much wishing they'd had opportunity to finish building the Trilobite-class's axial cannons.

"Boss," the communicator lit up. Claire O'Neill. "Lucky's lit up and ready to go."

Finally, something going right. "Turn off the bypass and get it integrated into the thrust network."

"Roger that, boss." She made her voice go a little raspier. "Now, they will see the true power of this fully armed and operational battlecarrier!" The acceleration was physically palpable as the Shangri-La's last fusion reactor added its power to the ship's already spectacular thrust.

"That's it, O'Neill. No more old movies for you." Vindel cut off the comm link.

Marita glanced at her controls, carefully maneuvering the joystick. "... We're passing through the Karman line now. ETA to troposphere... ninety seconds. Pyramid will reach troposphere seventeen seconds ahead of us." They were now in the atmosphere. The real 'air' would arrive down at the troposphere, eighty kilometers down and twenty above the surface - eighty percent of the actual mass was down there. Frankly, as soon as they hit the troposphere, they'd need to flip around and reverse thrust, or they were going to smash into the Earth at around two kilometers a second. Both ships.

The pyramid's acceleration was roughly equal to two gees. Shangri-La at full power could manage one and a half gravities under normal thrust. They were going to fall behind... though since they were going straight downward, the acceleration was actually three gees and two and a half - closer.

Vindel would trust Marita's calculations, she was a great deal better with numbers than he was. Unfortunately, because of those numbers... they were going to need to pull their deceleration a lot closer than the enemy did, or they were unlikely to catch up. Even then, they wouldn't have enough time to take it down before it did a great deal of damage.

Vindel blinked, noting something odd on a readout. They weren't going at full thrust. A portion of it was being diverted to... "Charging Overboost, Marita?"

"I have an idea, sir. If we can catch up. Permission?"

"... Granted. Explain it when we have time."

He could see the edge of her smile as she continued her mysterious plan, charging up the thruster Shangri-La used to achieve orbit. He was starting to get an idea, but he wasn't fool enough to demand one of his numerous intelligent, skilled soldiers take time away from doing important work to explain their genius to their commander.

"We'll catch up in the troposphere, sir. Atmospheric drag is affecting them much more severely than us."

Vindel nodded. Not all that surprising... the rude and rough shape of that pyramid couldn't be anywhere near as well-suited to accelerate through drag as the smooth and stealth-formed hull of a Trilobite. Let alone with the tesla drive ionizing the air around them and routing the plasma to reduce friction - the actual primary function of the device they used as their defensive shield.

"Mansfield, contact our PT and fighter units. Inform them to finish up the battle, pick up what units they can, and settle into stable orbits. We'll be back to pick them up as soon as feasible." Unfortunately, if they were blowing an Overboost, they'd be very low on fuel - presuming they survived at all. They'd need to dive and process more heavy water to fuel their reactors. They could go up immediately to retrieve their units, but they would be dangerously low on fuel. Vindel was not going to put the Shangri-La's crew of fifty thousand at risk to retrieve his sixty pilots early. It would be uncomfortable, but they had sufficient supplies packed away to last a good week up there.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Samantha Carter winced as the ship rocked while she was ducking for cover behind one of the ship's corners, slamming her into the wall and making parts of her gear dig into tender places.

O'Neill landed next to her... yet somehow landed softer, despite being just as fast. "This is getting ridiculous, Bra'tac!" He poked around the corner, firing off a handful of shots from his zat.

The old jaf'fa didn't look up from the door his group was busily working at. "It will be but a moment."

"Not sure we have one!"

Sam ducked below O'Neill, slipping her MP-5 - running a bit low on ammunition - around the corner and firing a few short, controlled bursts, gunning down three charging Serpent Guard. Staff blasts impacted around her, but the jaffa were way too far out to even consider scoring hits with their weapons. "How many jaffa are on this ship, anyway?"

Teal'c glanced over from the door - carrying the barely-conscious Daniel, he wasn't much use in a fight at the moment. "A goa'uld ha'tak can carry up to two thousand jaf'fa. I see no reason why Apophis would have brought less."

O'Neill pulled away from his firing position as a staff blast got a little too close for comfort. "One, two, three," he counted them, "four, five, six, seven... Not two thousand! When were you planning to mention that?"

One of Bra'tac's students coughed into a hand, looking back. "I was inclining towards after we were safely behind a locked door."

The other student glanced at O'Neill. "It's not as if how many there were will matter when we cut out the reactor." Or rather, the power conduits - Bra'tac was taking them to the main conduit that led power from the reactor to the shield generator. If they could destroy that, under the firestorm this ship was already soaking up...

Samantha just hoped that they weren't exposing Earth to something worse in the strange, huge ship. Though O'Neill had pointed out, 'We'll stop the first, for-sure apocalypse, then worry about the second, the maybe one.' And he had a point, relying on Apophis to defend the planet seemed... counterintuitive.

"We are through," Bra'tac announced, as the door opened behind them. SG-1 and their jaffa allies poured through, O'Neill lobbing one of their two remaining grenades down the corridor to dissuade the oncoming Serpent Guard a little bit.

Sam was the last one through, and pulled her MP-5 back as Bra'tac snapped the door shut, scrambling the controls.

Bra'tac and his two not-Teal'c students turned, raising their staff weapons to the nearby wall, and snapping out the tips.

"Time out," O'Neill called, holding his hands in the classic 'T' position. "Wait a sec."

Bra'tac glanced over his shoulder. "We do not have many 'sec's. There are many further corridors that the Serpent Guard may use to approach us. Let us end this, and save your world."

"Carter!" O'Neill snapped, turning to her.

"Sir?"

"Do you think you can make the conduit blow slowly?"

"Uh... depends on what you mean by slow, sir. I could make it go up slow-er, but it's not like I know this technology that well. I have no idea how long it'll actually take."

"Good enough. We only need a few minutes. Bra'tac, crack that thing open and let Carter work her magic."

Bra'tac blinked, stepping to the wall and hitting a control, which peeled back a panel to expose a strange array of coloured crystals. "Why do you wish it to not go sooner?"

"'cause I figure, maybe that'll be enough time to make it to an escape pod before this ship gets crushed by the big one. We may just survive this."

"... Are you not willing to give your life for your world, human?"

O'Neill shook his head. "Any time, any place. I just figure between saving the world and dying, and saving the world and maybe living through it, I'll take the second one."

"It is your world. Very well." He pointed at the array of crystals. "That is the conduit, Samantha Carter. Do with it what you will."

Samantha moved closer, frowning. "... I have no idea what to do with this thing." Well... when in doubt, guess. She pulled her black-bladed Ka-Bar combat knife, flipped it into a point-down grip, and slammed it into the panel, between several of the crystals. It penetrated through the thin gold covering, and tore down through... whatever was under it.

The growing whine from the panel encouraged her, so she pulled the knife out and stabbed it down again. The whine grew to a howling, so she stepped back, leaving the knife. "Okay, that sounds good!"

Bra'tac nodded, and began moving down the hall. "This way. Quickly."

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Faina Volkova shook her head slightly as her five-year-old son Maxim ran ahead, through the light scattering of people walking across the breadth of Red Square. "Slow down, dear, I'm not that fast!"

"... Mama?"

Faina chuckled, speeding up slightly to keep her son in sight and maintaining her grip on the cellular phone over her right ear. "Not you, Arisha." She looked up as she walked past the intricately carved spires and brilliantly-coloured domes of Saint Basil's Cathedral. She may not have been very religious, but she could certainly appreciate beauty. "I'm taking Maxim on the visit to Red Square. He's as excited as you were, dear."

She obviously couldn't see it, but knowing her daughter, she was flushed as red as her hair. Was a pity not to see it, really, Faina thought it looked cute as could be - then again, she was the mother, so she was biased. "Who wouldn't be? The first time, in the heart of Russia?"

"You know, nobody's listening in on you, you don't need to display the patriotism that openly," Faina teased. Of course, the fervour was just covering up her embarrassment... Faina had no idea why she was so embarrassed, though, really. Arisha was five at the time, of course she'd do silly things. Didn't mean she couldn't get her daughter all flustered over it for fun, though.

"... Sorry I couldn't make it, mama."

Faina shook her head, walking ahead. "Don't worry about it, Arisha. You got recalled, I could hardly expect you to control what the Army decides. Your father got called off to work himself."

"It's just you and Max?"

"Hey now. I may not be a tough Army girl, but I'm sure I'm up to touring Red Square... if I can catch up with Maxim, at least..."

"Sorry, mama..."

"Hey now, don't give me that whipped puppy tone, I'm not angry, that was a joke." She paused. "For clarification, that was an expression, I haven't actually whipped any puppies. Lately."

"I don't think I wanted to know what you and papa do at night."

Faina grinned. "Was that a joke, Arisha? You're learning! Just a second, I'd tease you more but I have to catch up with your little brother."

"It's good that you have your priorities..."

"Always, my dear!" Faina lowered the phone, breaking out into a jog.

Maxim was an energetic little munchkin, but her legs were a great deal longer - it wasn't long before she caught up to the giggling child, looping her arms under his and picking him up. "Caught me, mama!"

She smiled. "Yes, yes I did. I swear, I can't take my eyes off you for a se-"

The first impacts from the ha'tak's bombardment weaponry were, at the least, quick.

If there was any pain for those caught at the center, it was mercifully short.

Not that that was much comfort to everyone outside the cleanly delineated line that had once been buildings, and was now a pool of bubbling, superheated stone and concrete. Immediately across the street from the eight-story-plus-spire Armed Forces General Staff office. Dozens of people within dropped what they were doing, phones, pens, coffee mugs clattering to the ground, as they could do nothing but stare.

"... Mama? Mama, what's wrong?" But Arisha Volkova was speaking into a dead phone line.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Admiral Nikolay Kalinin, commander of the Russian Navy's Black Sea Fleet, truly had no damned idea what was going on. All he had really been told, twenty-four hours ago, was to turn his radar skyward, raise military readiness, and await further orders, orders which he had passed down throughout the ships of the fleet.

He strode back and forth as best he could across the Moskva's cramped bridge, trying to restrain his irritation. The men around him were good men, and had nothing to do with it. He was a big, long-limbed man, the bridge really wasn't designed for pacing, but he'd get even more irritable cranking his limbs into knots in the seats.

He wasn't an unintelligent man, though. If he'd had to guess... which he did... he would suspect that someone had pulled something moronic in space, and he was to be on the alert for something crashing down over Russia. Probably the Americans. And he didn't actually mean that in a 'those Americans are up to something' sense... simply that the majority of what was in space was either American or Russian.

This struck him as unlikely to be an attack or impending attack - or a crashing Russian satellite. If Command knew what the hell was going on, they'd have given clear orders, telling him the course of the attack, where it would pass over, and if he couldn't please shoot it down. This 'stand ready' suggested they had no damned idea what was up either, but suspected there might be a possibility of needing firepower.

"Comrade Admiral! Two contacts on radar, extremely high altitude, course down and west!"

Nikolay whirled to look at the radar screen. "Those are..."

"... extremely large, I was about to say, sir. Bigger than Mir... I have no idea what they are. Course is shifting slightly and maintaining stability... they're both controlled, sir."

He turned to his communications officer. "Hail them both, now." If personnel were aboard, he seriously had some talking to do, and whether they were or not, the damned things were roaring down at two kilometers a second and were liable to do a great deal of damage to Bulgaria if they continued on that course.

"Channels ready... go ahead, sir."

"This is Admiral Nikolay Kalinin of the Russian Navy! Airborne units, identify yourselves, or you will be fired upon." He repeated himself in English for good measure. It wasn't that he really wanted to take an aggressive tack here... just that there was a matter of minutes or seconds before those things crashed into the ground like a new-class weapon of mass destruction.

It was a mere moment before a fuzzy, irregular signal came back, speaking in deceptively calm Russian. "This is Shadow Mirror. We are the larger unit, in pursuit of what we have been told is an alien invader. Request you do not shoot at us. We are firing upon the enemy, and promise not to touch Russia."

"Who in hell are you supposed to be? Why exactly should I trust you? Pull off your current course!"

"Were I to do that, I'd be consigning everyone in the region to probable death. I understand your concerns, and only ask that you not fire on us for the next two minutes."

Nikolay gritted his teeth. On one hand, if he pulled the trigger, he might start a war that he probably couldn't handle... on the other, if he didn't an attack could be launched. He hated not having enough information to make proper decisions... But there was something about that voice. And they had, at least, bothered to make contact. He'd make the same decision Stanislav Petrov had made. Better to risk a few people dying now than to cause many people to die in a nuclear war. "Target both objects, but refrain from opening fire until I give the order."

"Forward unit is slowing descent, sir!"

It was mere seconds until it actually became visible... a huge flying object, shaped and sized like an ancient Egyptian pyramid, the sides surrounded by what looked like it had originally been a shape somewhat like the spokes of a wheel - though several spokes were broken off. Pulses of orange light flowed off it, arcing northward, towards Moscow.

A second transmission came across. Broadband, transmitted to everyone, everywhere. "I am your god, Apophis! Kneel before me, or I will destroy a new city for every minute you stand against me!"

The communications operator swallowed. "... Significant damage to central Moscow, sir. I think the Kremlin is gone..."

Nikolay growled, looking up at the pyramid. "... Blow it away." It seemed the mysterious 'Shadow Mirror' spoke truth. Regarding their enemy, at least... about themselves, he didn't know yet.

"Sir, we don't have authori-"

"It just shot at Moscow! That's all the authorization we need! Fire! That goes for the entire fleet!"

Eight VLS hatches across the ship's surface snapped open, the powerful radar rapidly targeting the pyramid craft - it wasn't exactly a difficult target, just hovering there, kilometers above, after all. A moment later, eight large 48N6E2 missiles were simultaneously ejected from the cells, rapidly climbing upward on their own engine power.

The rotary launchers spun, slipping the next missiles into the hatch, and immediately firing before spinning again. Moskva packed sixty-four missiles, and its S-300PMU anti-air battery could handle independent tracking of up to thirty-six targets. Nikolay intended to unload everything until that huge craft was destroyed, and the Moskva's namesake was avenged in full.

A similar barrage, though only two missiles at a time, came from Ochakov, the only other ship in range of the massive vessel.

Almost instantly, orange lances shot off the spokes surrounding the pyramid, shattering Ochakov in mere moments... what remained of the ship began sinking, far out of sight.

The first missiles connected... slamming into an orange, translucent wall, seeming to transfer light around the shields, along odd lines... Out of the first brace of ten, only one made it through, tearing a barely noticeable divot off the vessel's armour.

Nikolay swallowed. "... Keep firing until our ammunition runs dry. And then all hands are to abandon ship. All nonessential personnel may leave immediately." He doubted it'd help much, but he owed it to his crew.

And then... well, then, Nikolay Kalinin was forced to withdraw his evaluation of the pyramid ship as 'massive', as a truly gigantic ship, long and rectangular, with a flared-arrowhead nose, at least double or triple its size came down after it. Even kilometers away, the noise was horrific...

Nikolay was also wondering whether the laws of physics had been withdrawn, as he saw its nose rise up, the immense, kilometer-long block of metal flipping end for end with agility he'd be impressed to see in a fighter jet.

And then the thrusters fired, lancing a long drive plume into the pyramid ship as the larger one rapidly, horrifically rapidly, decelerated. Even rockets didn't pull acceleration like that.

The laws of physics were not withdrawn. It was true that the vast majority of the ship's exhaust was absorbed by the flickering shield - though a fair percentage of it leaked through the flickering shield, to ravage the upper surface.

But Newton's Third Law was still in effect. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The force of the drive plume leaving the ship was sufficiently high that it decelerated the massive ship at a rate well over ten times the force of gravity - within thirteen seconds of pure thrust, they had come to a screeching halt, hovering above the Black Sea.

That same force slammed into the shields of the pyramid ship, which forcibly, instantly decelerated the drive stream to prevent penetration. But that force didn't disappear - it transferred into the shield generator, pressing it back with the same twenty-million tons at over a dozen gees force that it had always possessed.

The shield generator itself was mounted with a fair amount of spare space, and very powerful mountings, allowing it room to slow down the deceleration, do it at a safer, saner rate. But it was simply overwhelmed, despite the best efforts of the designers, ripped from its moorings and hammered down through the hull. The generator rapidly shattered under the force as the massive ship kept up the thrust, and the tattered remains of it tore a hole in the bottom of the ship, crashing down in the Black Sea.

Leaving the drive stream free, unshielded access to the ship - it began slowly wiggling, carving deep lines and tracks through the pyramid's hull, and towards the end of the thirteen-second drive stream, it began burning in one end of the ship and out the other, lancing beyond it into the Black Sea and turning several tons of water into steam.

In the end, the pyramid plummeted down, crashing through the water and sinking rapidly, both as it lost its own thrust, and as it was driven downwards by the immense ship's sheer power.

The gigantic ship came to a stop, hovering in midair a few meters above the waves. And slowly leveled out.

-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-V-

Author's Notes:

First thing's first - thanks go out to prereaders - the list being Sunshine Temple, DCG, Ellf, and Belgarion213.

Honestly, not too many comments to make here that I haven't made in the prologue notes, since I'm releasing these two together. This was the start of the real action, and the changes in the timeline. Said changes being obvious enough that I don't really need to get into them.

I will make a thorough apology if there are any difficulties in reading the fic or in telling when there's a transition from one scene to another. I've noticed a few things FFNet stripped out as soon as I submitted it (notably, line breaks, I had to try four different styles before the damn thing stopped deleting them), but I have no idea what I might have missed. I post my original copies on www fukufics com, so if you want to read them as well as they come, that's where you'll find them. Beyond that, I can do nothing but apologize, and dream wistfully of the days when whatever retarded chimpanzees are controlling FFNet's formatting are replaced with actual sentient human beings.

Ironically, the immediate outcome of this episode is substantially worse in fic than the original timeline. Three plans to save Earth kind of crashed into each other and got in one anothers' way (I'm not even counting Samuels's idea...). On the other hand, the end outcome... well, that's a different question, isn't it?

Enjoy the ride.

As always, reviews, comments, corrections, and etcetera are appreciated whether for good or ill, and my email's always open (PaleWLF gmail com).