Ship of the Line: Pioneer's Dawn the Reboot
Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters that I am about to mangle around for my own amusement - sadly all Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Stargate SG-1 and Robotech characters belong to Mutant Enemy Productions, MGM, and Harmony Gold respectively – I am merely borrowing them and make absolutely no profit from their use. So please continue to keep the legal attack dogs – also known as lawyers – firmly muzzled and on a leash as I have no money to give anyone.
Authors Note: First off let me apologise profusely for the immense delay in this update, hopefully it will not be repeated. In the first part of this chapter I've had to invent a little bit of science with regards to how the engines used by the Goa'uld work to explain why the US Air Force jets couldn't fire at the Goa'uld from over the horizon as they would be able to do with any earthbound enemy but could only engage at closer ranges with cannons and head seeking – and laser guided – missiles.
Chapter Seven
Presidential Bunker
A Few Minutes Earlier
"Mr President it's been confirmed," General Brian Roberts reported calmly after putting down a phone. "The Goa'uld attack upon Los Angeles has ended, the fighters launched from the unknown vessel that destroyed the Goa'uld motherships shot the last of them down a few minutes ago, before returning to their ship."
"Where is the alien ship now," President Julian Marcel asked from where he was sitting at the head of the conference table that they were all gathered around as they attempted to deal with this unprecedented attack on their nation. An attack that would have surely been even more devastating than it had already been for the massive, and some would say ominously silent, alien warship that had turned up so unexpectedly over California.
Turned up and proceeded to seemingly effortlessly rip the Goa'uld a new one.
He had to admit he was intensely curious about that obviously incredibly powerful alien warship and its crew. Who were they? Why had they come here? How long had they really been here? And what did they know about the Goa'uld? They were all among the questions that he so desperately wanted to ask them.
"Near orbit radar reports that the vessel has moved into a stationary orbit in the L5 Lagranian Point between Earth and the Moon," Roberts reported, "aside from recovering the fighter squadrons it launched to defeat the Goa'uld forces it hasn't moved or done anything else. We are continuing to beam communications requests at them but so far there has been no response, meaning either they can't hear us for some reason or they're deliberately ignoring us."
"Could our radio signals be somehow too weak to be received by the aliens," Julian asked directing the question at his scientific advisor.
"No sir," Doctor Patrick Sterns replied, "however given their apparent level of technology its perfectly possible that our radio signals are too primitive a method of communication for whatever comm systems they have to register let alone understand."
Julian nodded in agreement and understanding as that prospect had indeed occurred to him as well. "Maybe so but we must still attempt to contact them," he said at last before turning the discussion to the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room that they were all trying to ignore even as they knew that they had to face it. "General Roberts what's the status of Los Angeles?"
Roberts grimaced. "It's bad sir," he admitted, throttling down – with effort – the feelings of rage and pain over the attack on one of the nation's largest cities and the death toll which was sure to be absolutely horrendous, "for some reason we were not able to maintain radar locks to shoot the Goa'uld craft down from over the horizon. Thus, they had several minutes of unchallenged access to Los Angeles before our fighters could get into range and engage with their on-board cannons and use the shorter-range laser tracking and heat seeking guidance options on their missile. Thus, the city…" his voice trailed off as he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"The city is what, General," Julian demanded to know.
"Large parts of the city are in ruins sir. Both our surveillance satellites and our returning fighters report massive destruction and fires burning all over the city. We have no information on casualties now but they are bound to be extremely high."
"Jesus," Julian breathed taking a moment to cross himself as his Anglican faith asserted itself. "But what do you mean by our missiles weren't able to maintain a radar target lock?"
"They just weren't able to Mr President," Roberts answered, "the Theodore Roosevelt carrier group fired a full salvo of radar guided anti-aircraft missiles towards the Goa'uld forces heading for LA, but as soon as the missiles were launched the seeker heads lost weapons lock and had to be remote detonated."
"Do we know why?"
"It is impossible to know with any real certainty," Patrick replied. "Though if I had to guess I would say it likely has something to do with the propulsion systems the Goa'uld use seemingly in all their space and air craft."
"What do you mean Pat?"
"While we do not yet understand even the basic scientific principles behind it we know that the Goa'uld use an incredibly sophisticated inertia less propulsion system. From what little we've been able to determine so far; the system uses precise applications of gravitational and anti-gravitational forces to create a highly-localised distortion in the space-time continuum. A distortion that the Goa'uld ship rides, kind of like a surfer riding a wave, to achieve motion and to pull turns that would rip any craft with a conventional Newtonian propulsion system apart. In theory, such a spatial distortion could prevent the more limited radar of a missiles seeker head from maintaining a targeting lock."
"But why would we still be able to track them with ground based radar?" Roberts asked.
"I'm not sure but it could simply be a matter of power," Patrick admitted, "our ground and ship based radars are far stronger than what can be mounted on either a missile or even on a fighter plane. At least at the current time."
"Our pilots reported that the alien ships fighters had no such problems," Roberts commented.
"Yes, but like the rest of their technology their radar systems, or radar equivalent systems, are certainly a lot more advanced than anything we are currently capable of building," Patrick answered.
"Good point," Julian admitted knowing that any race capable of building any interstellar spacecraft – let alone one on the scale of the California vessel – would be at a minimum a century ahead of their own technology. It was one of the facts that made the Goa'uld such a terrifying threat despite their very approach traditional approach to warfare. He put those thoughts out of his head before turning the topic back to the plight of the City of Angels. "What can be done to help Los Angeles?"
"Firefighting aircraft are being mobilised to help the city as we speak. FEMA and the Red Cross are also dispatching search and rescue crews to the city," Roberts replied then grimaced. "But Mr President I must be honest and say that given the extent of the fires already I don't know how much of an impact they are going to be able to make, especially with the Santa Anna winds beginning to blow. If the wind continues to rise – which it easily could as the fires draw in fresh oxygen – then they could easily whip the flames up into a firestorm and if that happens…"
"Then large parts of LA, possibly even the entire city, will be burnt to the ground," Julian finished going pale as it was a nightmare scenario and one not experienced by the United States since the firestorm that had burned in San Francisco after the great earthquake of 1906, a storm that had razed vast areas of the once thriving metropolis to the ground in the days after the quake. Los Angeles was the second largest city in the nation, only New York was larger, if such a catastrophe happened now then literally millions would die or be made homeless. Hell, he shuddered to think how many were already dead or homeless, either from the bombing or the fires.
He shook off those thoughts. "Coordinate with FEMA I want everything possible done for those people," he said.
"Yes sir." Roberts acknowledged a second before the phone on the table rang and he picked it up. "Yes?"
From his position at the head of the table Julian watched as the Air Force General frowned as he listened to whatever was being said. After a moment, the general looked at him. "Sir near orbit radar has picked up five small objects entering the atmosphere," he reported. "Their trajectory indicates that they originated from the second Goa'uld mothership before she exploded. They don't appear to be powered and from the size near orbit radar believes them to be one man escape capsules of some type."
"Where are, they coming down?" Julian asked wondering if those capsules contained SG-1. On one hand, he hoped they didn't as it would save him and the Air Force brass a few headaches on what to do with them – especially Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter – for disobeying orders and going through the Stargate to stop the Goa'uld attack that Doctor Jackson had warned them was coming. Had they succeeded in their self-appointed mission then the two-soldier's gross insubordination could have been overlooked, but they hadn't and would have to be dealt with.
The question was how to do it.
They could of course court martial them but then they'd lose the brilliant mind of Samantha Carter. And then there was the matter of Doctor Jackson, while they could terminate his employment contract that would cost them quite a bit. While not a physicist Jackson was a brilliant man in his own rite, and his knowledge of ancient languages – and the fact that thanks to a year of living on Abydos he spoke fluent Goa'uld – was impressive, as was his ability for deductive reasoning. Losing him would be a heavy blow indeed. The Jaffa defector, Teal'c, was even more of a thorny issue, especially as he was aware of what the NID wanted to do with him – and their argument that, as a non-human, the Geneva Convention did not protect him – regardless of the loss of intelligence on the Goa'uld that would surely result from the Jaffa being 'examined' by NID scientists and doctors who were known to often drive a juggernaut through such inconvenient things as the Hippocratic Oath.
Thus, it was quite the conundrum.
"At their current speed and angle of entry radar predicts that they'll come down somewhere in or around the British Isles," the general replied jolting him out of his thoughts. "We can't be sure where now as the entry vector is very shallow."
Julian sighed. I suppose it was too much to ask that they'd come down somewhere in the US where we could pick them up without fuss, he thought, as it is if they're going to come down where our European allies will be able to get to them first. And they're going to have a hell of a lot of questions for both them and us. Especially given the impossible to cover up attack on LA and that very visible battle in orbit.
"Understood," he said after a moment even as grimaces flew around the table at the report, everyone present knowing that getting SG-1 back would not be easy in the aftermath of the attack as every nation would be wanting answers about it. Though he supposed it could have been worse, they could have been coming down in Russia or communist ruled China – in either case they could have forgotten getting SG-1 back quickly if at all. "Alert the state department to prepare to negotiate their repatriation with the British."
"Yes sir."
SDF-3 Pioneer
Earth-Lunar Lagranian Point
Xander Harris blinked in confusion as, with a suddenness that was truly breath-taking, he suddenly found himself back in control of his body. What! What happened? he thought, before shivering as the memories played before his eyes. Being down in Sunnydale acting as escort for an increasing sugar high bunch of rug rats, feeling an odd tingle as something invisible but irresistibly powerful washed over him, suddenly ceasing to be Alexander Harris but instead becoming Admiral Richard 'Rick' Hunter. And everything that had happened since then.
Did we just prevent an alien invasion attempt, he thought in shock and is LA really in flames after a vengeance attack by alien fighters and bombers after we blew their capital ships to dust? Mentally he shook himself and carefully sat up from where he'd been sprawled on. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find himself still on the expansive, brightly lit bridge of the SDF-3. Which kind of confirmed to him that the last few hours had not been an incredibly realistic dream but had really happened. And he could think of only one explanation for what had happened to him and the others he could see sprawled around or slumped in chairs at various positions around the bridge.
They were the victims of a spell.
Ugh magic. I hate magic, he thought, and didn't G-Man say that Halloween is supposed to be a quiet night for the undead and other supernatural goings on? Though given that Earth had just been apparently attacked by aliens and they'd stopped them, but not quickly enough to stop the vile fiends from bombing the crap out of Los Angeles, he supposed that it was in some way fortunate that the spell had a) happened, b) that it had turned them into people with the knowledge and skills needed to stop the aliens – whoever they were – before they could lay waste to the planet, and c) had given them this ship and with it the means to stop them.
"Harris what the hell just happened?" a male voice said from somewhere off to the right of him, a voice that touched the echo left in him by the hyena possession last year. Xander turned in the direction the voice had come from.
To see Tor Hauer looking back at him, face a mask of bafflement and confusion. It wasn't quite the face he remembered, Tor's features had somehow changed becoming more chiselled, more classically handsome than before. The formerly blond member of the Pack was pulling at his hair frantically, hair that had changed both in colour and length from the short blond spikes that he'd favoured since junior high. His hair instead was now long, tied back in a ponytail with a single quiff hanging down on his forehead. It was also a dark blue almost navy in colour. With a shocked jolt, he realised that it had previously been a wig that the other teen had been wearing to appear more like Scott Bernard, but which had now become his real hair.
Without even thinking about it his own hand shot up. To find that his own wig had become real hair as well. Great, he thought with a mental sigh as he also noticed that the uniform sleeve felt quite a bit tighter meaning it had either somehow shrunk or he'd gained quite a bit of muscle mass on top of the hair. Somehow, he knew it was the latter and not the former. I wonder what other permanent changes have been made to us by the spell. And if I ever find out who cast it I'm going to shove a battloids gun pod up where the sun doesn't shine and pull the trigger.
"My guess is we were the victims of some kind of spell," he answered at last.
Tor groaned at that, recalling his last – and very unpleasant – experience with magic. Being possessed by a primal hyena spirit, eating the football team's mascot raw and then killing and eating Principal Flutie, all the result of getting caught up in someone else's primal magic spell, was not something you just forgot. Much as he wished he could forget it as he could do without those nightmares thank you very much. Nightmares that had seen his best friend Kyle turn to drugs and alcohol to escape them and the emotions that came with them; especially the guilt over the death of Flutie and shame over the fact that they hadn't been able to stop those things that took them over doing such a horrible thing to what had been such a kind man.
Not that he had been able to escape those feelings.
Instead the descent into alcoholism and drug abuse had simply resulted in his parents removing him from school and chucking him into an expensive detox programme somewhere in upstate Oregon – which from what he'd heard wasn't going well as Kyle was desperately clinging to taking the substances that he felt helped him forget what had happened to them all. Yet here he was again, caught up in a spell.
Though he supposed that it could have been worse. At least this time he hadn't been turned into a hyena in human form, instead he'd been turned into Scott Bernard and now having the memories of growing up aboard a gigantic colony ship orbiting Tirol – most Terrans staying on the colony ships as Tirol's gravity was considerably lighter than Earth's and would cause muscle weakening if experienced to long – eventually coming to Earth with the goal of booting some Invid squatters off his ancestral homeworld and everything that had happened after that including falling in love with Ariel.
And who'd apparently just helped stop some real-life aliens from attacking Earth.
"Ugh I hate magic," he complained. "Why do we always end up getting caught up in other people's spells?"
"Join the club and I wish I knew," Xander replied completely understanding the other teens feelings, the hyena possession, and other things he'd seen since learning the truth of the world had gifted him with a healthy dislike of magic unlike Willow who he knew found magic fascinating. Awkwardly he got back to his feet and swayed slightly as his body felt wrong, different to how it had been just a few hours ago, he felt heavier and stronger – something the fit of the uniform also confirmed.
"So now what," Tor asked as he got his own feet under him, like Xander swaying in the process as his body didn't quite feel right anymore. Plus, he had the unexpected weight of the armour he was wearing, which from the weight of it was no longer the foam and moulded plastic thing it had been but was now made of an incredibly advanced and durable metallised ceramic alloy. An alloy that like this ship hadn't existed in anything other than science fiction until a few short hours ago.
"Well first off, we need to wake everyone up and make sure they're alright," Xander replied, "then after that we really need to talk about what we're going to do now. Given what's happened and how we've all been seemingly changed I doubt we'll be able to return to our lives as they were before."
Tor nodded. "Good point," he agreed knowing that Xander was right and even if he hadn't been he wouldn't have argued the point with him, the tiny part of him that still thought of the other teen, well not really a teen anymore thanks to the spell, as alpha ensured that.
"So where do we start?" he asked.
"You start with Heidi," Xander instructed. "I'll start with Buffy, she's less likely to go 'slayer smash' if I'm the one waking her up than if it was you waking her."
Tor blinked. "Buffy's the Slayer?" he asked shocked. When he and the others had researched online what had happened to them, what the primal spell had exactly done to them, they'd come across a few articles regarding the Slayer. Especially how she was supposedly the one girl in all the world with the power to oppose vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. A real life Chosen One and to Rhonda and Heidi the ultimate expression of 'girl power'.
"You know about the Slayer?" Xander asked surprised by the development. In his experience, nobody outside of the supernatural community, or people like him who were vampire/demon hunters, knew anything about the Slayer. Or if they did know about her considered her to be a myth on a par with the other great mythical heroes of antiquity like Hercules and Achilles.
Certainly, they did not believe she was a real person.
"Yeah we found a few articles on her when we were researching what… what happened. It was kind of hard to believe though Buffy being the Slayer explains so, so much."
Xander frowned and was about to ask Tor exactly what he meant by that. However, before he could speak a groan from the direction of the command chair caught his attention and he glanced over to see that Buffy was starting to stir. "We'll talk more about this later," he said looking back at Tor. "Start seeing to Heidi and the others while I deal with Buffy."
"Alright," Tor agreed moving over to where Heidi was sprawled out on the floor.
Xander watched him go for a moment before making his own way over to where Buffy was slumped in the commander's chair. The now brown-haired Slayer was making a few slight, involuntary movements as she rose rapidly towards consciousness. After a few seconds her eyes flickered open and it was all Xander could do not to gasp as they weren't brown like they'd been before instead Buffy's eyes were now the same vivid green that Lisa's were supposed to be.
"You okay Buff," he asked prompting Buffy to groan again before blinking.
"Xander wh…wh…what happened," she asked stammering over the words even as he eyes were caught by the changes her best male friend next to her boyfriend had undergone. His facial features appeared slightly older and leaner, the last traces of childhood puppy fat having been somehow burned away and there had been a subtle but noticeably change in the blue tints of the contacts he was wearing, somehow, she doubted they were contacts now. Though startling what really grabbed her attention was the fact that he was noticeably bigger than he'd been earlier his muscles visibly larger.
She was about to ask him what had happened to him when she remembered everything that had taken place over the last few hours. Due to being the Slayer she'd sensed the immense wave of magic that had washed over Sunnydale but had been unable to fight against it. But then that was always the case with magic, which was one of the reasons why she absolutely hated dealing with it, she much preferred it when she could just beat the crap out of whatever supernatural baddies were about before killing them.
As it was she'd been reduced to a helpless observer in her own body. Though she had to admit she had gotten a kick out of seeing that suddenly real laser pistol kill multiple vampires with effortless ease. The look of dumbfounded shock on Spikes face when one of his minions had been immolated before his eyes was one that she would remember and treasure for a long time. Of course, then she remembered watching in helpless horror as laser fire and ion bolts – fired from a real life Spartas veritech hovertank and Invid fighter bioroid – had vaporised multiple pint-sized demons, demons who'd she'd known weren't demons at all but kids transformed by the same spell that had affected her and everyone else.
Whoever cast that spell is going to pay for those deaths when I get back home and find them, she thought darkly, the Slayer in her incensed beyond words by the deaths of some of the innocents she'd been chosen by destiny to protect, even as more memories of everything that had happened while she'd literally been Lisa Hunter – who'd used her maiden name in her professional life to avoid confusion in the ranks – fleet admiral and supreme commander of the Robotech Expeditionary Force. Including commanding the battle that had seen the self-proclaimed god Apophis be blasted out of the sky by proton beams fired from this very ship – a ship that was somehow still very real.
Honestly even by Scooby Gang standards this whole thing was well and truly wiggy.
"Has all that really just happened," she couldn't help but ask aloud.
"Yup," Xander confirmed as he moved away to check on Willow. "Buff give me and Tor a hand checking everyone, will you? Something tells me were all going to have a hell of a lot to talk about once we're all awake and coherent. I don't think we're going to be quite able to go back home as if nothing has happened, certainly not considering what our 'changed' selves prevented and the damage to LA."
Buffy nodded in agreement. She didn't have to be the Slayer to know that Xander was right, especially as they'd all obviously been permanently altered by the spell that had been cast upon them. Though she did inwardly have to scream in anger and grief at the mention of the fate that had befallen the city that until two years ago, had been her home. She couldn't help but wonder how many of the people she'd known at Hemery High were now dead or dying in the sea of wreckage and fire that LA had become. Plus, her father still lived in LA was he alive or dead now?
She shook off those thoughts, and the instinctive worry for her father, down with effort even as she stood up from the chair that felt both so foreign and so familiar at the same time. There would be time to think about it all – and almost certainly break down – later. Right now, the others that were here on the bridge needed her help and she was going to provide it.
Which was why she immediately headed over to where Jonathan was sprawled on the deck.
Sunnydale
That Same Time
"Any sign of them?"
The ensouled vampire known as Angel shook his head as he arrived back in the residence of Rupert Giles. Since they'd broken the spell that Ethan Rayne had cast upon Sunnydale he'd been searching the streets for any sign of Buffy, Xander and Willow. But he'd had absolutely no success – in fact all he'd seen was frantic parents running around searching for several children who'd not returned to the High School after the end of the spell.
"There's no sign of them anywhere, Giles," Angel replied, "it's like they've just disappeared off the face of the Earth. Is Mr Rayne still unconscious?"
"I'm afraid so," Giles answered turning to glare slightly at where Ethan Rayne lay sprawled on his couch watched over like a hawk by Jenny. "Both myself and Jenny have cast diagnostic spells on him and determined that he's suffering from an extremely severe case of magical exhaustion. He obviously seriously underestimated the amount of power that would be required for a spell strong enough to affect the entire town."
"You don't sound convinced of that," Angel pointed out clearly hearing a note of uncertainty in the Watcher's voice when he said that last part.
Giles looked uncomfortable at that but answered nevertheless. "Because I'm not," he admitted with a sigh of resignation. "I have had the misfortune of encountering Ethan Rayne a few times in the past. While he is a worshipper of chaos and an acolyte of the Old God Janus he is normally extremely careful and thorough in his casting preparations. Everything we saw in the back room of his shop is indicative of that.
"No something must have happened, some unknown variable must have come into play, that resulted in the spell requiring Ethan to channel far more power than normal."
"The Hellmouth?" Jenny suggested from where she'd been listening quietly while continuing to watch Ethan. From her own magical studies, both with the elders of her tribe and outside of them as she was one of the few Kalderesh capable of channelling more than just the ancient magics of the Romany people. Technological magic, or technomancy to use its proper name, being one area that was a notable skill of hers which had really helped last year when the demon Molloch The Corrupter got inadvertently released into the Internet.
"Possibly," Giles admitted. "Though I doubt it as demonic and divine magics never mix very well."
"Isn't that the truth," Jenny commented knowing that demonic and divine magics interacting could be like matter and antimatter, the results being explosive to say the least. Indeed, some of the greatest natural catastrophes in history had been caused by such diametrically opposing magical forces interacting. "So, if it wasn't the Hellmouth then what could it be?"
"The only thing I can think of is its Janus himself who has done this," Giles admitted. "Though why I do not know. Unfortunately, we may never be able to find out as the Old Gods don't really interact with the mortal world anymore."
"If Janus is responsible for overpowering the spell so much then could he also have something to do with the disappearance of Buffy and the others?" Angel asked.
"Again, it is a distinct possibility," Giles said agreeing with the ensouled vampire much as he wished he could disagree with him as he didn't particularly care for Angel – though he would admit that he was useful – and only put up with him for Buffy's sake.
"So how do we get them back?"
"I have no idea."
With that confession from Giles everyone in the room went silent, both the two humans and the vampire being lost in their own thoughts and worries especially for Buffy and her two friends. The resulting ominous silence stretching on for what seemed like an eternity.
An eternity that was only broken when a soft groan came from the sofa.
Instantly everyone's attention was focused onto Ethan Rayne just in time to see the chaos mages eyes flicker open. For a few seconds, Ethan, didn't seem to realise or understand where he was and then his wandering gaze fixed on Giles and his shoulders dropped.
"Hello, Ripper," he said in resignation and couldn't help but be shocked by how tired and weak his voice sounded.
"Ethan Rayne," Giles replied crossing his arms, ignoring the questioning looks both Jenny and Angel were shooting him at his youthful nickname, his eyes glittered dangerously as he spoke again. "You've got a lot of questions to answer and answer me you will."
"My how Yoda you sound."
Giles eyes narrowed dangerously. "This is not a game," he snapped resisting just the impulse to walk over and slap his former friend something silly. "And I have no time for your quips. You will answer my questions."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I will ask you," Angel said stepping forward and, to add to the intimidation of the chaos mage, shifted into his game face. "And if you value your life, human, you will answer me."
Ethan cringed back at the sight of the vampire. He'd been wrong, Ripper hadn't changed a bit and had somehow managed to bind a vampire to his will. Something that took some seriously powerful and dark magic indeed. "Okay, okay I'll tell you," he said with a sigh. "What do you want to know?"
"For starters, why exactly you came here to Sunnydale," Giles answered. "And what did you hope to accomplish tonight?"
Ethan sighed again and, seeing no other way of getting out of this without ending up a bloodless corpse, began to talk for his life.
Author Note: Well another chapter bites the dust. Once again sorry it took me so long to get the muse for this story back, hopefully the next chapter will not be long in coming but given how fickle my muse has been recently I obviously cannot make any promises. If anyone is curious the reason why they're coming down in the UK or on one of its outlying islands – when Teal'c said they'd likely come down in North America – is that Teal'c underestimated the particle wave created by the destruction of Klorel's ship as such it knocked the pods onto a new entry vector that will see them come down somewhere in British territorial waters. Anyone got a specific preference as I am personally so tempted to have them come down on one of the generally uninhabited islands like Skomer.
