A/N: This chapter ran on a lot longer than I had intended. It may be far too wordy and technical in places. I might make some major changes to this one. I'd appreciate input on it.
Backstory notes: For those that may not remember, the Oranians are the quasi-reptilian aliens that Daniel Jackson encountered in the SG1 episode "Prometheus Unbound". Also, the "Netu mission" refers to the SG1 episode where the team infiltrates Sokar's planet that is reminescent of Hell.
Chapter 4
"Do you have the merchandise?" the mercenary demanded.
"Yes, yes, right here," Mr. Olo said, sitting a case on the table between them.
The Oranian mercenary looked askance at the case, but went ahead and opened it. Inside was several containers of clear, bubbly liquid. The Oranian removed one of them, opened it, and poured it into a beaker he had brought with him. Mixing in a few other chemicals, the solution turned a bright red.
The Oranian smiled. Without a word, he motioned to the two other Oranians standing behind him. On a stretcher-like board, they brought over a non-descript metal case. "20 kilograms of weapons grade naquadah, as agreed."
Mr. Olo nodded. "You understand of course, that we will need to conduct our own test. Serenia, if you wouldn't mind," he nodded too his dark haired assistant.
Serenia ran a hand held sensor over the naquadah, scanning it for any imperfections, tracking devices, or impurities. After a full minute of scanning, the device beeped and a green indicator lit up on its small screen. She nodded to Mr. Olo.
"Then our business is concluded," the mercenary said. "It was a pleasure."
The Oranians boarded their Tel'tak. The ship looked like it had seen better days. Sounded like it too, as it's drive weezed painfully as it powered up. After enough coaxing, however, the ship finally got in the air and boosted for orbit.
Mr. Olo removed a control device from his pocket and hit a switch. His own Tel'tak promptly decloaked a hundred yards from his position. The two took off at a brisk jog towards the ship.
Once they boarded, Serenia broke her silence. "You know, Daniel, I had no idea you would be so good at all this cloak and dagger stuff."
Dr. Daniel Jackson shrugged. "The Air Force doesn't have quite the need for archaeologists that it did when we first started using the gate, Vala. Time to report in." Daniel activated the ship's secure communicator. "Wolfhound Base, this is Cub 1. Come in."
"Cub 1, this is Wolfhound Actual. Go ahead."
"Mission accomplished. Returning to base."
"Copy that Cub 1."
Daniel smiled and Vala kissed him. "You have no idea how hot you are when you act all military."
XXXXXXXXXX
Wolfhound Base was a small installation situated on a frozen wasteland of a dwarf planet. The star system had no stargate, and the small world was so far from it's star that said star was difficult to pick out from the other stars in the sky, even at noontime.
The surface temperature never got above -375 degrees Fahrenheit. It was remote, inaccessible, and well hidden. The system's primary was a very young, very hot, F class star that threw out so much radiation that detecting the base from any significant distance would be impossible. It was the perfect base of operations for a covert US intelligence operation against the Lucian Alliance.
Daniel walked into the main control room to find Agent Malcolm Barrett. "Agent Barrett."
"Good job, Doctor. I'll have to say, I didn't know you would be so good at intelligence gathering work, but it seems to suit you," Barrett said.
Daniel chuckled. "Vala told me almost the same thing when we started on our way back. She wondered why I didn't take an easier job, one that involved a desk and less risk of certain death."
"That's a good question," Barrett said.
Daniel shrugged. "I thought about it. Truth is, however, I just can't imagine sitting on my laurels on Earth. Not after everything I've seen. I need to be in the fight."
Barrett nodded. "I know how you feel. So, the mission was a success?"
"The mercenary handling the transaction didn't even try to check for tracking devices. It likely wouldn't have helped him if he had. The Lucian Alliance would have a hard time countering Asgard derived surveillance tech, even if they knew what to look for," Daniel said. "We tracked his ship's location on our way back. He hasn't met with his handler yet, but it shouldn't be long."
"Maybe we tagged the right one this time," Barrett said.
"Any of your other sources turn up any detail on what the Alliance is up to?" Daniel asked.
"Yes. And no. The Alliance is fairly large. Not as large as the Free Jaffa and nothing like the vanquished System Lords. Still, they have a lot of operations running at any given time. In other words, they're always up to several somethings at once," Barrett said. "Unfortunately, we have to simply ferret out everything we can because we can't know what's important or not until it's all been gone over by the analysts back home."
"Being a spy just isn't as glamorous in real life as in the movies," Daniel mock complained.
Barrett chuckled. "No, it isn't. Real intelligence work involves long hours of pouring over mostly useless information, looking for a needle in a stack of needles. You and Vala have done well, why don't you two get some rest?"
"I think I will," Daniel said, yawning. "We can look for needles in stacks of needles tomorrow."
XXXXXXXXXX
"I think we got a break," Barrett said.
Daniel looked up from his book. "What is it?"
"Listen," Barrett said, pressing a button on his laptop.
"...and the final arrangements have been made," a commanding voice said.
"That's Jorgan, current leader of the Lucian Alliance," Barrett put in.
"Not a very friendly sounding sort," Vala said.
"Yes," said the Oranian mercenary. Daniel easily recognized his voice. "I am to meet our ally's advance party in eighteen hours."
"Good. Don't concede any more than is absolutely necessary, but secure the alliance and move forward with their proposed plans," Jorgan said.
"Understood. The Tau'ri won't have a chance."
Daniel met Barrett's eyes. "Please tell me we know where this meeting is happening."
Barrett shook his head. "No, but we do have the tracker on the mercenary, so we can follow him, even when he's in hyperspace." Normally, there was no way to detect a ship in hyperspace from normal space. The Asgard receiver they had at Wolfhound Base could track one of its own beacons through hyperspace, at least under optimal conditions. The technology in that tracking device was cutting edge, even for the Asgard. It was a miracle Area 51 had been able to build the thing even with the complete Asgard database at their disposal.
"Problem is," Daniel said, "he appears to have docked with his Ha'tak. The Pensacola is a fine ship, but she's not really up to that sort of battle." The ship assigned to support Barrett's operation was of a new class of frigates that had just entered service. While the 'standard' frigate design was intended for raiding and patrol missions, the Pensacola was one of a class of stealth frigates. It sacrificed weaponry and shields for speed and stealth. Given it's relatively small size and sophisticated new power systems, it could cloak without the assistance of a ZPM, at least for a time.
If the meeting was to take place on the mercenary's Ha'tak, however, there was little they could do. All the speed and stealth in the galaxy would not permit them to breach the Ha'tak's shields and board the ship, or simply beam out the mercenary. Beaming someone out of the ship was probably impossible anyway; technologies capable of denying sensor lock on an individual without a transmitter were becoming ubiquitous. The days of beaming nukes on to enemy ships were over, as were the days of snatching badguys from their own bridges.
Barrett considered for a moment. "We still have the tracking beacon planted. Maybe, if we're lucky, we can use the device to eavesdrop on their communications."
"That's assuming they don't meet face to face, and I don't think we can count on that," Daniel said. "You heard what he said. They're planning something that sounds pretty catastrophic for us."
"If you have an idea Daniel, I'm all ears."
"The Pensacola's cloak is impenetrable to a Ha'tak's sensors, right?" Daniel asked.
"As far as we know," Barrett said carefully.
Daniel kicked into excited professor-mode. "OK, we shadow the mercenary's Ha'tak. When he drops out of hyperspace, we drop out as well, beyond his sensor range. We cloak and proceed at sublight."
"So, we stalk them," Vala purred. "I'm already liking the sound of this."
"And when we reach them?" Barrett asked.
Daniel cleared his throat. "We grapple onto their hull and board them."
Barrett facepalmed. "Do you have any idea how many things could go wrong with that plan? Even assuming we could clamp on and board, once they figured out what was happening all they'd have to do is start their engines. The difference in in the inertial dampening fields on our ship and theirs would cause the Pensacola to be ripped in half when they started accelerating."
"Right," Daniel said. "So, when we board, we immediately go for the engine room and disable the ships engines."
"It's too dangerous," Barrett said. "We should request reinforcements from Earth. There's a Jaffa colony not far from here, we might even be able to get their help."
"I know it's a risk," Daniel said with urgency. "But you heard what they said. Something is going down, soon, and it won't end well for us if we don't find out what it is before it's too late and you know as well as I do that we won't have time to round up reinforcements. It's only a matter of time before the mercenary finds the bug we planted. When that happens, we lose him."
Barrett turned and looked at the map display. An angry red dot traveled at FTL speeds on the map across the firmament. "This is insane. But...I think you may be right. I'll gather the team together and we'll hammer out a plan of attack. Normally I wouldn't ask you to be part of a combat mission, but we're going to need everyone if this is to have a chance to succeed."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Daniel said.
"You're so hot when you act all military," Vala flirted.
Barrett facepalmed again.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Drop out of hyper and rig for silent running," Commander Terry Stanton said.
The USS Pensacola made the transition from hyperspace drive to running cloaked in normal space as quickly as it could conceivably be done. Which wasn't quite fast enough for Commander Stanton. The Pensacola was one of the ships the US military had decided should be crewed by Navy personnel, specifically, submarine personnel. Stanton was the consummate fast attack submarine skipper, which was one reason he'd been chosen for this command. The Pensacola's mission of operating stealthily for long periods, away from home, was a paradigm that the Silent Service was very familiar with.
"Cloak engaged. We're running silent," the Chief of the Boat said.
"Thank you, Chief," Stanton replied.
The problem was that the Pensacola couldn't stay cloaked indefinitely. The ship's cloaking device was just a step short of experimental and required its own separate power supply. The engine room mounted four additional Mark 3 Naquadah generators for this purpose. Only two were needed to run it, but the ship was designed with redundant systems. If one of the generators broke down or was lost due to battle damage, a backup could be powered up. That was assuming the unstable Mark 3's didn't blow up the rest of the ship, of course.
The power requirements were extreme, even by modern standards, and the cloak and its power sources generated a lot of waste heat. This would normally not be a concern since the Asgard designed heat dissipation systems could keep up with the heat generated by the ship even during combat. However, to maintain stealth heat couldn't be radiated away normally, as the signature would be visible to passive infrared sensors. As a result, the cloak could not be operated for more than 14 hours at a single stretch or Very Bad Things would start to happen, starting with the crew being literally broiled alive.
None of that sat well with the military side of Stanton. His last assignment had been as commanding officer of the USS Cheyenne, a Los Angeles class fast attack submarine. His old command would routinely submerge after leaving port, and stay submerged (and thus, invisible) for its entire deployment.
That sort of constant silent running was not possible for the Pensacola. The cloak also could not be engaged while in hyperspace, so there was always a chance of being detected when trying to do a stealth entry of a potentially hostile star system, as he was doing now. Further exacerbating the problem was that the cloaking device was bulky and inefficient compared to the ZPM powered system the Daedalus mounted. This cut into internal volume that could've been used for more shields or weapons, thus leaving the ship at somewhat of a disadvantage even against conventional ships of similar size and technology. However, since Pensacola was not intended to slug it out with enemy warships, this wasn't as severe of a problem as it might seem.
One place they hadn't had to cut corners was on engine power. Pensacola was faster than all fiery hell. She could run circles around any known warship. She didn't have the legs to run down an F-302 in a straight up pursuit, but the difference between them wasn't as great as one might imagine.
At least we got the new railgun system, Stanton thought.
Experience with the Goa'uld and, especially, the Wraith had shown the military a couple of things about space warfare. One of those hard lessons had been that if it could be seen, it could be killed, usually in short order. The early warships Earth fielded had carried heavy anti-ship missiles, based on existing ballistic missile designs, and equipped with naquadah enhanced nuclear warheads. The warheads themselves were highly effective. The Daedalus had once disabled a Wraith hive ship with a single hit. The problem was that they'd had to flush their entire missile complement to saturate the ship's defenses enough to get that single hit. The missiles were enormously easy targets to see in space. There was still a lot of debate by the brass and the R&D folks on how to redress the problem. One proposed solution was to use missiles with electronic warfare packages to act as decoys and jammers. The idea was to confuse enemy detection enough that at least some of the missiles would get through. This was a logistical problem as it relied on expending enormous quantities of ammunition. Even with this method, large numbers of missile with warheads would still be needed to score hits. Though Earth's supply of weapons grade naquadah was better these days, the material was still very expensive, thus the logistics of the situation didn't support this solution very well. Electronic warfare did work to reduce fighter losses to acceptable levels. Early engagements against the Wraith had shown that without powerful electronic warfare suites, F-302s were dog meat for a warships defensive weapons. Another proposed solution was to rely solely on Asgard plasma-beam weapons for capital ships. The plasma-beam weapons were large, however, and didn't scale down very well to a ship the size of Pensacola, which probably explained why the Asgard went by the 'bigger is better' rule of naval architecture. They were also insanely expensive, and were thus likely to be reserved for use only on the largest, most powerful ships.
A third proposed solution, and the one implemented for Pensacola and her sister ships, was a modified rail gun system. Pensacola had a spinal mount railgun. The railgun was much larger than a normal anti-ship railgun. It drew much more power and could accelerate a larger projectile to higher velocities. Unlike a standard railgun, however, this railgun didn't rely on striking its target with a hypervelocity projectile to do damage. Instead, the spinal mount railgun fired a projectile with a naquadah enhanced nuclear warhead in its core, the same warhead used on the early anti-ship missiles. Railgun rounds generally weren't interceptible by active defenses because they had no active electronic emissions to detect and track. This new railgun round would have some minimal electronic signature, chiefly from the radar it mounted that was part of its proximity detonation fuse. It was expected that at least some these would be intercepted but that the hit rate would be much, much higher due to its relatively very small active emissions signature and high velocity.
The R&D types has dubbed it the Nuclear Rail Gun, or NRG. The name had stuck.
It was an elegant solution, in Stanton's opinion. Though it had been proposed for general use, it was uniquely suited to a ship like Pensacola since it gave them a real weapon that could conceivably damage or destroy an enemy warship, and did it in a package small enough to be crammed (just barely) into a ship her size at an acceptable cost. It was not without disadvantages, however. Ships in combat had a tendency to not stand still while you tried to blow them up, and the NRG's projectiles didn't have a guidance system. It was only effective at extremely short range and, like all other weapons Earth ships mounted, could not be fired while cloaked.
The finicky nature of a somewhat experimental design bothered the military man in Stanton. But the view out of the bridge's viewport made it all worth it for his adventurous side.
"That's amazing," Lieutenant Commander Chetry, the helmsman and weapons officer said.
Pensacola was settling into orbit around a super massive gas giant in the unnamed system they'd tracked the Oranian mercenary to. Spectography had confirmed the presence of large concentrations of neon in the gas giant's atmosphere. The gas giant orbited very close to a very hot star, and the intense solar radiation excited the neon in the planet's atmosphere. It glowed in beautiful, but seemingly randomed, multi-colored patterns all across its upper cloud layer.
This was the real reason Stanton had agreed to this assignment. He had always been the kind of person who was naturally an explorer. He always wanted to know what lay beyond the next hill, and the idea that he was the first to see it gave him a child-like thrill that he never got tired of.
"It is amazing, Lieutenant Commander. And maybe later, there will be time to study this properly, but for now, let's stay on task," Stanton said.
"Aye aye, sir," he replied.
"Ops, any sign of our target?"
"Other than the tracking beacon Dr. Jackson planted, no sir," Lieutenant Andrew Williams said. The ops officer was a young, severe man. He seemed more like a computer at times than a person. That analytical and severe nature, however, is what made him so good at his job.
Stanton nodded. "Let me know as soon as we get anything on passives."
Agent Barrett stood to the right of Stanton's command chair, and pressed his lips together in concern. "It's possible they may have found the tracking beacon and dumped it in space."
Stanton nodded. "Possibly. I can't say that I'd be too broken up about the situation if they had, either."
Barrett smiled. "Believe me, I think it's a bit crazy too. I tried to talk Jackson out of it."
Stanton looked up. "You're in command of this operation. Why didn't you just tell him 'no'?"
"He can be persuasive," Barrett chuckled. "But actually, I think he's right. We're out here to gather intelligence on the Lucian Alliance and to test the capabilities of this new class of ship. This will be an excellent test. Although, this particular plan is a bit more...daring than what I originally had in mind."
"I have to admit, I was a bit surprised this operation was his idea," Stanton said. "He doesn't strike me as being particularly gung-ho."
"Have you read his file?" Barrett asked.
"Skimmed it," Stanton said.
"You should read it thoroughly. Some of the missions he's been on almost defy belief," Barrett said.
"Yeah, I did see the report on the Netu mission. That was some pretty serious, derring-do, crazy hero shit," Stanton said.
"Funny, he doesn't look much like a steely-eyed adventurer or hero," Barrett said.
Stanton smiled. "Most heroes don't."
"Contact," Lieutenant Williams said. "Designated Sierra 1, picked up on passive gravitics. It appears to be in stationary orbit on the far side of the gas giant from us."
Stanton sat up straight. "Can you identify it?"
"Not positively, but gravitic sensors say its mass is right for a Ha'tak class mothership. The tracking beacon and Sierra 1's location match up too," Williams said.
"Any active emissions?" Stanton asked.
"Very little. I'm getting an intermittent radar pulse. CIC says its consistent with a Ha'tak's short range search radar. Otherwise, it appears to be at standby power levels," Williams reported.
"Whoever he's waiting for," Barrett said, "probably hasn't arrived yet."
Stanton stroked his goatee. "Maybe. I had hoped they wouldn't be running any active sensors."
"We are cloaked," Barrett said.
"Granted. Still, it's one thing to fool active sensors from a distance. It's quite another to do so from literal rock throwing range," Stanton countered.
"I understand," Barrett said. "If you think it's best we scrub the mission we will."
"Not yet," Stanton said. "As you said, one reason we're out here is to see what this ship's new systems can do under real conditions. This was always going to be a dangerous mission. Still, a few precautions are in order. Chetry, pre-load a round in the NRG. If we are detected, decloak the ship, fire immediately, and retreat. Do not wait for my order."
"Aye aye, sir. But we'd normally need to charge the NRG's capacitors to get maximum velocity. Firing immediately like that, and the shot will be considerably slower than even a standard railgun round," Chetry replied.
"Understood," Stanton said. "Still, we are cloaked and if he does detect us, it's going to be at close range. The NRG round won't have far to travel. Now, compute an intercept course for docking with the target."
"Course computed," Chetry said.
"Execute." Stanton hit his comm button. "XO, is the boarding party assembled?"
"We're ready, skipper," Lieutenant Commander Aaron Robinson replied.
"We're closing in for hard dock in 10 minutes. Get to your positions," Stanton ordered.
"Commander! Contact in close proximity to the target. Designated Sierra 2. He just lit off his sublight drive," Williams said.
"Identification?"
"Unknown. It will break the horizon of the gas giant shortly, however. I could align one of the telescopes for a look," Williams suggested.
"Make it so."
Stanton brought up the feed from the telescope on command chair's arm display panel. After squinting, looking for a flash of light, a bit of movement, anything, he finally spotted it. The telescope operator found it as well and zoomed in on it.
"Damn," Barrett said.
"Contact Sierra 2 is a Wraith heavy cruiser," Williams confirmed.
"What in God's name is doing here?" Stanton spat. "How the hell did it even get here?" Stanton waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't matter. Ops, does he see us?"
"I don't think so. Energy readings suggests he's spinning up his hyperdrive..."
Before Williams finished saying it, a hyperspace window opened and the Wraith cruiser disappeared into FTL.
Stanton's comm beeped. "Skipper, XO here. We saw the feed. Should we abort?"
"No," Stanton replied with authority. "Whatever is going on here is probably big. This mission just got a hell of a lot more important. We proceed as planned."
"Four minutes to hard dock," Chetry said.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Wish I could go with you," Lieutenant Commander Robinson said.
"Feel free," the Lieutenant Commander Mike Atchison said with a grin. "I could always use more help."
"The skipper made it pretty clear that I am to have my ass back to my station in auxiliary control by the time the shooting starts."
"Party pooper," Atchison said. He glanced back towards Daniel. "Sure you wouldn't prefer an M-4?"
"Nah, I'm comfortable with this," Daniel said, loading a magazine into his P90.
Atchison could appreciate the diminutive bullpup submachine gun. Daniel wasn't primarily in a combat job, though the unassuming anthropologist had become remarkably skilled with the weapon, mostly out of necessity. Still, Daniel wasn't exactly a gun nut.
Atchison, however, was a gun nut. He had learned to shoot at the age of four on his parents' farm in Tennessee. He was shooting competently in IDPA by the time he was 11, and was competitive in Service Rifle and NRA F-Class by the time he was 13. At age 15, he won the Service Rifle National Match at Camp Perry, the youngest person to ever win the award. By that time, he was a far better shot than any instructor the US military had on staff.
All of this meant that when it came to the practical science of firearms, the country boy from Tennessee was an expert. The P90 Daniel favored had its advantages. It was light and handy, and very easy to shoot well for people who didn't handle firearms often but had jobs that required them to go about armed. The weapon's 5.7x28 cartridge left a lot to be desired, however. Its performance was acceptable at very close range, largely due to the specialized armor piercing ammo available to the military, but even with this advantage its ability to stop an attacker was suspect at best. He did not have much faith in the cartridge, however well made the weapon itself was.
He did have faith in the M-4A3's 5.56 NATO cartridge. Though the 5.7x28 was high velocity for a handgun cartridge, it was still a handgun cartridge. It simply could not wreak the sort of havoc on an enemy that the standard issue 5.56 NATO could. Atchison had personally used the M-4A3 to great effect over the years against terrorists, drug runners, tyrants, and other assorted assholes.
However extensive his list of accomplishments were and however gung-ho he could be at times, Mike Atchison did not look down on men like Jackson, where some soldiers would. He knew that some in the military didn't take him seriously, thinking him soft. Atchison thought no such thing. In fact, he didn't look down on anyone. He didn't hold himself out as someone special and he genuinely cared about his brothers in arms. It was this and his hard charging nature that made him a good leader. Some soldiers followed their leaders because they were ordered to. His men followed him because they wanted to.
The Navy had recognized this and made him the commander of SEAL Team 2. And now, here he was, in space defending his country and his entire planet from aliens. He considered it a worthy cause, and counted it as a personal honor and privilege to be given the opportunity to fight these battles.
"Three minutes," his radio said.
"Alright, it's go time. When we get a solid seal, we're going in fast and hard before they can react," he announced to the team.
Pensacola was equipped with a specialized airlock intended to be used for boarding. It was five times as wide as a standard airlock, allowing five or six people to enter an enemy ship at once. It also mounted a powerful shaped charge that could punch a hole through the hull of many ships if it was used in the right location.
The plan was for the SEAL team and Pensacola's shipboard Marine complement to use the breaching charge the moment the airlock had sealed itself against the Ha'tak's hull and immediately attack. Unfortunately, they couldn't unload directly into the Ha'tak's engine room, but they were close; only one level down. There was a stairwell near the entry point that would provide access to the engine room. The plan was simple: SEAL Team 2 would ascend the stairwell and attack the engine room; Pensacola's Marines would fight a rearguard action at the base of the stairwell to prevent reinforcements from attacking the SEALs from behind. Once that was done, the party would meet in the engine room and use the rings to transport themselves to the Pel'tak. That's where the mercenary would probably be. Slap a transmitter beacon on him and use the Pensacola's transporters to pull everyone out.
Normally, the transporter technique wouldn't work. However, it was known that the technology the Lucian Alliance had adopted that disrupted transporters didn't work as well from inside the shields as outside. Pensacola would be inside the shield and with a transporter beacon, a quick beam out should work.
A heavy metallic clang heralded contact with the Ha'tak. A light turned green on the airlock's hatch.
"We're good!" Atchison said. "Time to open this bitch up!"
A concussion wave traveled up the still sealed airlock as a square section the Ha'tak's hull was blasted open. The airlock cycled open, and five Navy SEALs charged down the airlock.
They emerged into a corridor. Three crewmen opened up immediately with their staff weapons, hitting two of the point men immediately. Atchison lined up one of the men in the reticle of his M-4A3's holographic sight and gave him three 5.56 NATO rounds to the chest. His team finished the other simultaneously.
"Alpha team on point. Let's go," Atchison shouted once all his men had boarded. "Home plate, this is Atchison. Successful breach. We are moving to towards the first objective. Light contact with what appears to be engineering staff. Two wounded, transport directly to sickbay." With a flash, the two injured men were gone.
Atchison was not pleased. Sometimes things just didn't break your way, but two wounded right off was not the way he had wanted to start this mission. The entire team made the stairwell without seeing anyone else, however.
"Jackson, Vala," Atchison motioned. "Come with me to the engine room. While my team is planting C4, you two can try to tap into their systems. Gather any useful intel you can find."
Jackson nodded.
Atchison lead the team up the stairwell, again, no contacts. That changed, however, when they came to the entrance to the engine room.
The engineers knew something was up and had armed themselves. A hail of zat gun and staff weapon blasts pinned the team on either side of the doorway. Atchison glanced around the corner briefly.
"About twenty, most armed with zat guns. A few staff weapons."
The SEAL Team was outnumbered two to one. For them, that was normal.
"Roberts, Sanders! Flashbangs, then attack. You five on that side of the door go left, we will go right."
The two SEALs pulled two flashbangs each from their equipment vests. A few clicks later, the pins had been pulled. Roberts called out, "fire in the hole!" as he and Sanders tossed the grenades.
The flashbangs made a ridiculously loud blast, stunning most of the engineering crew. Atchison and his team went through the door in a blur. He settled into a rhythm. Put the sight on an enemy's chest, three round burst, move to next target, repeat.
In a bare three seconds, it was over. Daniel hadn't even gotten into the room, much less aimed his P90, before the defenders were dead.
"Wow..." Daniel said. "I knew you guys were good but..."
Atchison grinned at the compliment. "Get on those computers Jackson. SEALs, emplace explosives!"
Vala swore as she activated one of the terminals. "It's all encrypted!"
Daniel handed Vala a crystal. "Just copy as much of it as you can, we'll try to decrypt it later." Daniel produced another, identical crystal, and did the same.
"Alpha leader, this is Bravo team. We are under heavy attack!" Atchison's radio chirped.
"Captain Lassiter, can you hold for two more minutes?" Atchison asked.
"I don't know, we've got nine casualties, four are KIA. They clearly waited until they had an overwhelming force before trying us out," he shouted. Atchison could hear an M240 machine gun pounding lead downrange over the radio. "Just hurry."
"Alpha leader this is Home Plate," Atchison's radio announced. "We have a problem. The Ha'tak is powering up its drives!"
XXXXXXXXXX
"We have got to undock, sir," Chetry half shouted.
"We are NOT leaving those men behind," Stanton countered. "Give me an option!"
"Sir, the intertial dampeners on this ship can't take the acceleration of such a large vessel. We'll be torn apart!"
Stanton ground his teeth and thought furiously. The Pensacola's intertial dampeners were much less powerful than the Ha'tak's. They simply couldn't withstand the forces of the Ha'tak accelerating. Unless...
"Commander Chetry, do you think you could power our sublight engines and match their maneuvers?" Stanton asked.
Chetry turned and looked at Stanton like he'd lost his mind. But before he said something that was likely to get him a captain's mast he said, "It just might work. Our inertial dampeners will give some cushioning, just a little time to react to course and acceleration changes. It's stupid-dangerous, though, sir."
"Understood. Do it."
XXXXXXXXXX
The Ha'tak went to maximum acceleration, and Chetry very nearly lost the Pensacola right there. But he kept up, if just barely, and managed to not break the airlock connecting them to the Ha'tak. The Ha'tak's helmsman didn't take long to figure out what was happening, and he started bouncing the ship in random directions, but Chetry was good and just managed to keep up with him.
"Just like the rodeo back home," Chetry said.
XXXXXXXXXX
"C4 armed and ready in all respects, sir!" Robinson said.
"Good. Everyone, fall back to the corridor."
The team returned to the corridor, and covered their ears. "Fire in the hole," Atchison shouted. Then he threw the switch.
The C4 wasn't emplaced to destroy the sublight drive or the reactor systems. Doing so would've destroyed the ship. Instead, the explosives were placed on the control runs. Without computer control, the drive would shutdown to prevent run away acceleration. It wouldn't take the crew long to repair such relatively minor damage, but it would shut down the ship's engines long enough for their purposes.
A thunderous boom emitted from the engine room, blowing debris into the hall.
"Much appreciated, Alpha team," Stanton said over the radio.
"Alpha leader, this is Bravo leader. We are being overrun! Falling back to your position,"
"Damn," Atchison said. Before he even got it out of his mouth, the remaining Marines came around the corner in an orderly retreat pattern. One man would kneel, laying covering fire, as another ran back. This leapfrogging continued until they were in the engine room.
The SEAL team moved back in to the engine room. "Jackson, close the blast doors if you can!" Atchison shouted.
A large contingent of Lucian Alliance troops rounded the corner into the SEALs and Marines kill zone. The defenders cut down the first wave in a hail of gunfire.
"They're going to change tactics soon enough," Atchison said. "We need these doors closed, Jackson!"
"I know," he said, not even taking his eyes off the console.
"Incoming!" one of the Marines called.
Another crescendo of gunfire met the attackers, but they were smarter this time. They used the sides of the still open doorway as cover, just as his team had done when they assaulted the engine room. One of the SEALs took a staff weapon blast to the head. Atchison grimaced. "Medic!" He knew, however, there was no way the SEAL had survived.
With a crash, the blast doors lowered. "It won't hold them for long," Jackson said. "We should probably retreat."
"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to complete my mission," Atchison said.
"We copied a lot of data, we may have what we need once we figure out how to decrypt it," Jackson argued.
"And we may not, doctor. Possible Wraith involvement makes this too important. We have to be sure," Atchison replied.
Jackson nodded. "Alright, the rings are over here," he motioned.
"Alpha team, to the rings. Marines, hold them off as long as you can, but when you can't any longer, have Pensacola beam you out."
XXXXXXXXXX
He couldn't believe it. Just minutes after the Wraith emissary had left, these infernal Tau'ri had shown up. How they had managed to board his ship undetected, he had no idea. It hardly mattered. His troops were closing on the engine room from all directions. They'd be surrounded and killed in the crossfire.
Or they'd better be, at any rate. This would look bad as it was, but if he didn't at least butcher his attackers, Jorgan would certainly have him killed.
"See if you can bring the engines back online by routing the commands around the damaged control runs," he spat at the navigator. "I want those engines back and that damned ship off my hull!"
He heard the rings activate. Probably his ground team commander coming back to report. He started speaking as he turned. "Kelgesh, you incompetent twit, have you—oh."
The Oranian found himself facing a human dressed in the black and gray battle dress they tended to favor. It aimed and fired a weapon straight at his chest.
He looked down, expecting to see blood. Instead, he saw a sticky gray substances, with a device embedded in it. A red indicator light was flashing.
"What is-"
The last thing he saw before being beamed directly to Pensacola's brig was SEAL Lieutenant Commander Mike Atchison waving bye to him.