Here is the next chapter. I tried to get it out yesterday, but it did not work out that way. Better late than never. For those of you dying to see something go boom, you will have your wish come true soon. Look for the start next week. For those of you who voted in the poll, it looks like the crossover will in fact be happening. I will keep you apprised. One reader asked what I thought the C-142 Nimbus would look like. To answer that question, look up the Lockheed Speed Agile concept of which several example drawings are available on the web. Speed Agile was the basis for the Nimbus. I hope this helps. Have a great week everyone!
Joint Base Charleston, South Carolina
Earth
Milky Way
Moonlight cast an eerie glow, illuminating the fogbank that rolled over Joint Base Charleston. Crisp cool breeze blowing in from the Atlantic to the east cut through the night air. The building fog brought a halt to the Charleston International Airport, which shared runways with Joint Base Charleston. This halt in activity did not extend to the Air Mobility Command units stationed on Joint Base Charleston, especially to the men and women of the 17th Airlift Squadron.
On the ramp sat the large forms of the squadrons C-142A Nimbus airlifters. Twenty in all were lined up, wingtip to wingtip. Activity bustled around the twenty parked airlifters. Ground crew members and crew chiefs performed last minute checks on the aircraft they lovingly maintained. Flight crew also bustled about. Preflight checks were performed, further ensuring the readiness of the aircraft they were about to pilot.
To the rear of each Nimbus, their large rear cargo ramps sat in the lowered position. Air Force loadmasters scurried in and out. From the large hangers one hundred yards away flowed a stream of cargo transfer vehicles. Loaded on each of these were sealed aluminum crates, large enough for a man to stand inside. Onto each Nimbus, four of these crates were loaded and secured to the cargo floor's cargo rolling system. One of the cargo transfer drivers was finally overcome with curiosity.
"That's three. You are good to go." The young Airman said.
"How long until the other aircraft in this chalk are loaded?" The loadmaster asked.
"Should be complete in the next fifteen minutes." The Airman replied.
"Good. We are scheduled for liftoff in an hour. Just waiting on you." The loadmaster said.
"What's in the containers anyway?" The Airman asked.
"Airman, you're new here so you probably don't understand something. Never ask what's in the crates." The loadmaster urged.
"It's just that we have a betting pool." The Airman winced somewhat.
"Ok, I don't know what is in the crates, but it doesn't go boom. That being the case, I don't really care what's in there." The loadmaster grimaced.
Five minutes later than predicted, the cargo sat secured aboard each of the twenty C-142's. As each loadmaster signed off on their assigned loads, they signaled to their individual flight crews that all was ready. Flight crews hurriedly finished their cups of coffee as they grabbed their flight bags. Their aircraft already preflight checked, each pilot and copilot went directly to their cockpits. Strapping themselves in, each flight crew powered up their aircraft and aligned navigation systems. This MAFEX or Mobility Air Force Exercise was now ready for lift off.
Their individual neutrino ion generators online and pulsing power throughout each aircrafts systems, the collection of twenty Nimbus airlifters began their taxi. Through the fog, each Nimbus resembled a great white shark slicing through the depths. Silently, the large airlifters rolled down the taxiway in procession. Turning off in groups of ten aircraft, the two groups of aircraft taxied onto and down the two long parallel runways. Once each of the two groups were on the runway, the aircraft braked and came to a halt.
"Charleston tower, this is Bandit flight lead. We are on the runway and ready for takeoff." Colonel Derrick Owen said into the radio.
"Bandit flight lead, this is Charleston tower. You are cleared for lift off, and departure at zero nine one degrees east. Proceed to higher orbit once over Atlantic range. Safe Travels Bandit." The tower replied.
Clicking his microphone twice in acknowledgment of clearance, Owen and the other pilots of Bandit flight advanced their throttles. Power from the neutrino ion generators surged into power conduits and antigravity drives. Rolling forward fifty feet, each aircraft began to move. As they rolled, they also rose. Silently, the twenty C-142A's took to the air. Onboard sensors made formation flying in the fog nearly effortless.
Falling into two lines of ten aircraft apiece, the collection of C-142A's gained altitude high above Interstate 526. To the left of the procession of aircraft, on the ground below, the Francis Marion National Forest flashed by. Going 'feet wet', the collection of aircraft were soon over Bull's Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. At the request of the Air Force, international commercial flight traffic had already been diverted to separate air corridors towards US airspace.
Gaining speed as they drove deeper into airspace over the Atlantic Ocean, the twenty aircraft entered a steep climb. Passing through the high cloudbank of cumulus clouds, they continued their charge towards orbit. As the curvature of the Earth became apparent out of the windscreen of each aircraft, the distant cities of Europe could be seen. Moments later, each of the twenty C-142's crossed the threshold of space, breaking their bonds with Earth.
Crossing through low Earth orbit, into high Earth orbit, they continued on. At forty thousand kilometers from Earth, hyper drives powered up and came online. Two hyperspace windows tore open, and the aircraft plunged on ahead into them. Then, they were gone.
P6G-452
Milky Way
Under cloak, the USS Apollo orbited the world known to Earth as P6G-452. To other cultures, this world was known as something else entirely. To the Lucian Alliance, P6G-452 was known as the largest Kassa plantation world in the galaxy. It was for this distinction that Apollo now found itself here. Her purpose here was not to cultivate new friendships, nor to procure a delivery of the Lucian Alliance cash crop.
Upon her arrival, the Apollo trained her powerful Asgard designed sensors towards the world below. Knowing this was a Lucian Alliance enclave, sensor operators aboard Apollo searched for any sign of warships laying at rest on this world. Finding none, they moved on to their search for defense measures that could hinder the overall plan that was unfolding. This search too turned up nothing. According to the sensors, this world was just what it appeared to be; a world devoted towards agricultural pursuits, albeit on a much larger level than was the norm in the Milky Way's less developed worlds.
"Sensors are reading all clear sir. The threat board is clear." A sensor operator announced.
"Very well. Signal the all clear to our guests. If they are running on time today, they should be here in a few minutes." Colonel Abraham Ellis ordered.
"The flight deck reports that all 302's are armed, manned, and ready for departure sir." The flight director stated.
"Get the 302's in the air. I want them over their assigned patrol boxes before Bandit flight arrives. They are to remain under cloak unless Bandit flight encounters resistance. Let's get a move on people!" Colonel Ellis ordered.
On the flight deck, the Apollo's sixteen F-302's sat ready. The order given, each pilot closed his or her aircrafts canopy. The rearmost 302 in the flight bay taxied forward from its ramp spot, and took station on the departure line painted on the deck that ran towards the flight bay's protective energy shield. Advancing throttles forward, the pilot guided his 302 out of the protective environment of the flight bay, and into the cold vacuum of space. Before crossing the threshold of the protective energy barrier, the 302 vanished from sight as the crafts cloak engaged. In under three minutes, Apollo's fighter detachment was airborne, and on it's way to the skies over the world below.
Unaware of the activity unfolding above in orbit, life moved at its normal pace on the world below. Each day here was the same. The process of commercial level Kassa cultivation was a never ending one. Planting, upkeep, harvesting; the series of events never changed. Today though, brought a change of events that while distasteful, was not unknown. Worrel, the local Lucian Alliance chief, had gathered the many Kassa farmers under his charge together. Standing before a nearly ready for harvest field of Kassa, he stood atop a horse drawn cart.
"I have brought you here to pass along the displeasure of the Alliance. As each of you know, the Alliance has production quotas you each must meet." Worrel began.
"Each time we meet this quota, you simply demand that we further exceed it." One farmer protested.
"You deem this unfair?" Worrel asked softly.
"I do!" The farmer replied.
Snapping his fingers, Worrel caught the attention of one of his Alliance underlings. Pointing his index finger at the arguing farmer, Worrel motioned for the farmer to be taken away.
"Kill his family while he watches. Start with his daughter." Worrel ordered.
"Yes Worrel." The underling replied, as he dragged the pleading farmer away.
"Now, do we have any other dissenting opinions here today?" Worrel asked.
As one, the collection of farmers and farmhands shook their heads in a 'no' gesture. Clearly, those that remained valued their lives, and the lives of their families.
"Where was I? Oh yes, quotas. Those above me in the Alliance have increased the quota each of you must now produce. Existing Kassa field production is to be maximized. You will also expand this plantation, and add seven new fields. This is expected to be done within the month." Worrel explained without sympathy.
"Using even our children, we do not have the manpower to bring these new fields online." Another farmer explained.
"Each of you will tell me how many farmhands you need, and the Alliance will supply them. You will feed and care for these new farmhands, but they are not yours to keep. They are Alliance property. Remember that. You should be thankful that the Alliance is willing to lend you this assistance." Worrel extolled.
"And if we meet this quota? What then?" A third farmer asked with difference in his voice.
"Then you will eat. If quota is not met, you will not eat. Is that understood?" Worrel asked menacingly.
Before the question could be answered, the farmers turned their attention to the skies above. Descending towards the plantation were twenty large dark grey colored craft. These craft were unlike anything the farmers or those of the Alliance had ever seen before. Clearly, this was not a good sign.
The twenty craft broke into ten two ship elements. Each element altered course towards a different preselected portion of the sprawling plantation. At the rear of each craft, the large cargo ramps opened. Slowing rapidly to forty knots of airspeed, the craft descended further to sixty feet of altitude above the Kassa fields.
"Beginning unloading of the first crate." The loadmaster announced.
"When the crate is unloaded, let it drop. Apollo will be beaming the crates aboard. Commence drop." Colonel Owen ordered.
Within each C-142 Nimbus, the first of their three crates rolled towards the open cargo ramp. Affixed magnetically to the rollers on the cargo bay floor, the sealed crates latches sprang open, yet remained closed. Reaching the end of each cargo ramp, opposing magnetic fields from the floor angled the crate towards the ground below. Springing open, the crates contents began to drop on the fields drifting by below.
These contents were a new addition to this world. On Earth, they were known by several names. Melanplus Devastator, the devastating grasshopper, or just the devastator; these pests were long the scourge of corn farmers. Fully winged, and three centimeters in length, each devastator could consume its weight in corn every hour. Now, they were being introduced to Kassa.
From each Nimbus, great expanding clouds of devastators spread. Like the biblical plague of old, the devastators swarmed towards the inviting fields beneath them. Not only would they consume Kassa in its stalks, the devastators would also consume the plants themselves. As the transplanted population took root, their offspring would continue to ravage the Kassa fields for as long as they could produce.
All around Worrel and the farmers, flocks of grasshoppers flew about. The gathering of men panicked in the face of something unknown to them. Farmers ran in all directions. Worrel viscously swatted the pests away from him to no avail. Turning towards his underlings, pointed towards the large craft delivering this plague.
"Shoot you fools!" Worrel bellowed.
Following their leaders orders, five Alliance soldiers aimed their pistols skyward. Though left unsaid, each of the underlings knew that pistol fire at such a large craft was futile at best. Overcoming range limitations, several of the pistol rounds found their mark, impacting the Nimbus passing overhead.
"Apollo, this is Bandit Lead. We are taking some small arms fire. Request close air support." Colonel Owen said into the communications net.
"Bandit Lead, air support is inbound now. Estimated time of arrival is thirty seconds." The Apollo's communications officer said in reply.
Silently, two newly modified F-302's tore through the sky. Courtesy of their Link-16 data links, Bandit Lead's aircraft passed along the position of the shooters on the ground relative to the approaching 302's. Brining their rail guns online, the 302 pilots depressed their weapons triggers, unleashing a hailstorm of rail gun rounds. The booming rail guns announced the presence of as yet unheard and now uncloaked fighters.
Several hundred rounds impacted the ground, cutting down two of the more unfortunate Alliance soldiers. In a panic, Worrel jumped from the cart on top of which he stood, and sprinted away. Better to fight another day was his thinking. Refusing to look back towards his underlings as he sprinted, Worrel did take note of the lack of weapons fire from his men.
Floods of newly transplanted devastators took hold across the Kassa plantation. Spreading out like a fog of consumption, the millions of insects began the process of voracious destruction of all Kassa on this world. It would be many days before the Alliance learned the true extent of the damage begun this day. What they would learn would enrage Lucian Alliance leadership to heights not seen in recent memory. P6G-452's days as the source of the bulk of Alliance Kassa supply were over.
Moody Air Force Base, Georgia
Earth
Milky Way
Valdosta, Georgia is known for very little in the world. Its one major landmark was also its single largest feature, Moody Air Force Base. Moody is charged with worldwide air support, force protection, and combat search and rescue operations. Originally named Valdosta Airfield, the Airfield was later renamed after an early Army aviation pioneer, Major George Moody. Also located on the grounds of Moody Air Force Base is the Moody Campus of Embry Riddle Aeronautical University.
Assigned to Moody Air Force Base was a unique unit in the United States Air Force. The 820th Base Defense Group is a force protection unit of the Air Force, tasked with airfield security in theaters of war. Former members of the 820th could be found on off world teams assigned to the SGC. The concept of the 820th is to have a high operational tempo, and to be ready to deploy to any location at a moments notice. Once on location, the 820th provides any Air Force expeditionary force with fully integrated, multidiscipline, high qualified, and self-sustaining force protection capability.
Tomorrow, after the formal ceremony, the 820th would have a new commander. Recently returned from a tour he referred to as exile, Colonel David Telford would find himself in the driver's seat. Recalled from his position as commander of Midway Station, in the void between the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies, Telford had been sure he was being sent to a number of places. Greenland, a recruiting center, or possibly something worse had been his prediction. Upon being told that he was to lead the men of the 820th, Telford was stunned.
"What condition are the men in?" Colonel Telford asked, seated comfortably in the current commander's office.
"Overall, the men are in good shape. The 822nd Squadron is coming off a rotation to Langara, and will be going into stand down for thirty days. The 823rd Squadron is replacing them as the alert force. They are my go to guys most of the time." Colonel Tom Hill replied.
"Motivated?" Telford asked.
"You could say that. I like to feed them gunpowder and raw meat." Hill replied with a laugh.
"Good to know. I will get the others in good shape quickly." Telford reassured.
"Are you sure you are up to it? From what I heard, you have only had two science types under your command for a while." Hill explained in not so delicate terms.
"My exile is the stuff of legend in the Pentagon. I can't say I ever wanted the most memorable point of my career to be an anecdote for what not to do." Telford grimaced.
"About that David, let me be frank. I had a talk with the operations officer for Air Combat Command." Hill stated.
"The topic of discussion?" Telford asked.
"You. General O'Neill directed your posting here as CO. My understanding is he is giving you a chance to redeem yourself. If you want some free advice, don't screw this up." Hill said plainly.
"Obviously, I want to succeed here." Telford countered.
"I know that David. Just remember that this is your one shot. You have a chance to make your mark here. These are good boys who know how to get the job done." Hill continued.
"Good to know." Telford said, looking down at the floor.
"Enough about that. Let us go tour the Squadrons. Give you a chance to meet the men." Hill said, rising from behind his desk.
As the two men rose from their seats, Colonel Telford's mind raced. Could it be true that General O'Neill was actually giving him a chance to redeem himself? He had been left at Midway Station for so long, surrounded with those two idiots, that if command of a hot dog cart came up he would have jumped at the opportunity. This new command was his chance. He knew he could lead men, now he just had to prove that again to those above him. Yes, he could succeed here. Not only could he, but he would. The future of his career in the Air Force depended on him doing so.
Hunter Army Airfield, Fort Stewart, Georgia
Earth
Milky Way
Once known as Hunter Air Force Base, later to be transferred to the Army, Hunter is an instillation known for special purposes. Subordinate installation to Fort Stewart, Hunter's five thousand occupant's kept the bars of Hinesville, GA full many nights of the week. Units housed here tended to gravitate towards the special operations variety. 1st Battalion 75th Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, and oddly Coast Guard Station Savannah called the installation home. During the days of NASA's Shuttle program, Hunter had served as an alternate landing field for returning orbiters.
Orbiting in the distance, over Richmond Hill, a single Sikorsky MH-60K special mission Blackhawk belonging to 3/160 climbed. Aboard the special operations helicopter sat a squad from Bravo Company, 1/75 Ranger Regiment. The newest member of 2nd Squad sat, his eyes fixed on the Georgia terrain below. It certainly did not resemble home down there.
Home for Private First Class Frederick Mathas was Holdrege, Nebraska. When he closed his eyes, he could still imagine he was back home on his family's farm. When asked by someone why he passed up the chance to play football for the University of Nebraska, Mathas told them about the night Wraith forces attacked Earth. That night, Mathas and his longtime girlfriend had not known if the world was doomed or not. So, like many other teenage couples in Holdrege, the decided the best thing to do was lay on a blanket neat the corn field, and stare up at the night sky. It was on that night that Mathas decided to follow in his grandfather and fathers footsteps.
The Ranger way of life ran in the Mathas family.
Frederick's grandfather too had been a young man when he became a Ranger. In a fit of coincidence, his grandfather had also been a 1st Battalion Ranger. His grandfather, also named Frederick, had been present at the most crushing defeat of a Ranger unit in Army history. 30 January 1944, young Sergeant Mathas and the men of 1st Battalion had moved to assault and capture a small town in central Italy, named Cisterna Di Latina. Seeing the coming attack, German forces made their move first. Unable to escape and completely surrounded, 1st and 3rd Battalion fought German paratroopers for five furious hours. Out of ammunition, the two battalions fought nearly to the last man in brutal hand-to-hand combat. When it was done, only six men of the 760 escaped. Sergeant Mathas was among them.
The father of PFC Mathas had also served. For the father, Gregory Mathas, his war had been Vietnam. Lacking any true Ranger units, Corporal Gregory Mathas served the Ranger mission in a Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol Company. Unlike his father, Gregory's war was much different from his fathers. Physically and emotionally healthy, Gregory finally returned home, married, and later fathered five children. The youngest of which was PFC Frederick Mathas.
Finally, Frederick's dream of following the unofficial family tradition of serving as Ranger had come true. Enlisting to become a Ranger, the natural athlete had sailed easily through Basic Combat Training in Fort Benning. Airborne School had been fun, as he had told his family on calls back home. Though he was serving in a Ranger unit now, he had yet to attend the formal Ranger School. His time would come, six months from now, according to his First Sergeant.
The largest part in a young soldier's development is not found in the training. Instead, the friendships they develop along the way, which will serve them later in their carrier is the single most important factor. 2nd Squad was filled with interesting characters. Coming from all over the United States, they had become surrogate brothers for Mathas. With these men at his side, the Frederick would become a Ranger, in training as well as creed. That is, if they did not get him arrested during a bar fight first.
"Hey Mathas, when we get back change into your civilian clothes quick." Corporal Bayhearn yelled over the roar of the helicopters turbine engines.
"Why, what's up?" Mathas asked.
"Tonight is our last free night before the company goes on Ready Ranger Force rotation." Bayhearn explained.
"Ok." Mathas said with a confused shrug.
"Do I have to explain everything to you? River Street man! It's nickel beer night at Wet Willy's!" Bayhearn exclaimed.
"You almost got us all arrested the last time. Remember?" Mathas asked.
"That's remember, Corporal. Toss one midget and everyone refuse's to ever forget." Bayhearn argued.
"I wasn't talking about the midget….Corporal." Mathas replied with an arched eyebrow.
"You mean the taco stand? I paid the guy and he decided not to press charges. No worries." Bayhearn explained with a dismissive waive of the hand.
"Do me a favor. Promise me you will not wear that t-shirt that says 'touch it'. Ok?" Mathas asked.
"No promises Private. Now, go back to thinking about the corn farm. I'm going to plan the night out in my head." Bayhearn finished.
Going back to thoughts of home and a time before the Army, Mathas thought about how he had continued his family's tradition of service. Now all he had to do was serve his enlistment, and come home. Would the Army be what he thought it should be? Only time would tell.
November Site
Milky Way
Two weeks earlier, a lone Tel'tak had arrived at the joint Tau'ri/Asgard off world base known as the November site. Situated within a moon, the November Site was many things. Vessel docking point, SGC alternate facility, and research station were but a few of its many varied purposes. Descending into the depths of the large doors separating the underground facility from the moons surface, the Tel'tak had landed in a quarantine bay. Once there, its cargo was offloaded with care.
That cargo had been three men. Specifically, three captured and unconscious soldiers of the Lucian Alliance. These men had been captured in the same motion that had allowed for Major Carlyle's infiltration of the Lucian Alliance. Normally, captured enemy combatants finding themselves in the custody of the SGC were immediately interrogated. That these men had instead been captured by the Intelligence Support Activity changed that somewhat.
Interrogation of hostile subjects is a tricky business at the best of times. These men were the sworn enemies of Earth, having taken a vow to the Lucian Alliance. That meant extreme measures were necessary. To some, sensory deprivation was an extreme measure. Brigadier General Dean Frost had other ideas.
For two weeks, the three captured Lucian Alliance soldiers had waited in stasis. Preparations took time. Even with Asgard technology, time was required. During that time, Heimdall, chief geneticist of the Asgard had plied her trade. Using equipment delivered during her arrival, Heimdall had went about creating three cloned Asgard bodies of the type used before a cure for genetic degradation had been found.
While these three clones grew to maturity, the three Lucian Alliance soldiers had been removed from stasis while being kept unconscious. Attached to a piece of equipment not used recently, the Lucian Alliance soldier's minds were copied. The copies, much like software not in use, had sat in a standalone memory buffer of the mind transfer data core. Their minds copied, the soldiers had been returned to stasis.
Once the cloned Asgard bodies had reached maturity, the empty shells were removed from their growth chambers. Heimdall had then gone about the process of mind copy transfer. All the while, the cloned Asgard bodies were kept unconscious thanks to manipulation of glucose regulation of the Asgard form. After many tests, Heimdall had announced it safe to wake the subjects.
Now the three not yet awake Asgard bodies sat on patient beds in an observation room. Standing in the monitoring center down the hall, General Frost, Vala Mal Doran, Heimdall, and Supreme Commander Thor waited. Intently, the four watched the unconscious Asgard forms through the video security system.
"How long do you think it will take for them to wake?" General Frost asked.
"They should be fully conscious in a few moments General." Heimdall answered.
"Pity. They look so comfortable." Vala commented.
"Their comfort is not among even a secondary consideration. Though, I am surprised your government approved this type of intelligence extraction method General Frost." Thor stated.
"One of the perks of commanding a unit that does not exist. The matter was presented to the chief legal council at the Pentagon. The Geneva Convention does not apply, as the Lucian Alliance is not a signatory. Even if it did, it does not cover copying a mind and then implanting it in clones of an alien race. I think we are covered." Frost said blandly.
"Earth and your conventions. A law for everything is unhealthy. Takes the spontaneity out of living I say." Vala said with a frown.
"I believe they are waking now." Heimdall announced.
"Give them a minute or two. We want to play this for all it is worth." Frost decided.
In the patient observation room, the three diminutive Asgard forms began to stir. As they stirred, the three began to grumble. The Asgard form laying in the center of the three patient beds ran his hand over his head. All was normal for a brief second, until the Asgard hand shot to the top of the head quickly. Patting, rubbing, and frantically searching, the mind within the body panicked at the discovery of having no hair. As the Lucian Alliance mind contained within the Asgard body panicked silently, the other two cloned bodies sat up in their patient beds.
The first scream came from the patient in the center bed. Casting his eyes upon his hand, the Lucian Alliance soldier was not prepared to see a hand that was not his own. This one was not even the right size, shape, or color. It was gray! In the patient beds to the left and right of that in the center, the cloned bodies opened their eyes for the first time. Seeing Asgard, these two began to panic and scream.
As their fright gathered in intensity, the three cloned bodies put their feet on the floor, standing for the first time. The river of frantic words was indecipherable to anyone that may have been listening, as it was to them also. Twenty feet away, the single doorway into the room noiselessly opened. Through this open doorway, two humans and two Asgard stepped through.
"Welcome home." General Frost began.
"Release us now Tau'ri!" One of the Alliance soldiers demanded.
"Release you to where? We brought you home." Frost countered.
"Your mission was a success." Thor added.
"Home?" One soldier asked.
"Mission?" Asked another soldier.
"I see that they are a bit confused." Vala commented.
"Confusion is a normal side effect of the process." Heimdall admitted.
"You are back among the Asgard. For too long you have been on the mission of collecting intelligence on the Lucian Alliance." Thor explained.
"You lie!" A soldier spat.
"What are our names then?" Another soldier asked acidly.
"We cannot tell you your names. The process demands that you recall your names on your own. As your memories unfold within your minds this will all be remembered. It simply takes time." Heimdall explained.
"Do you really think we are stupid enough to believe that we are Asgard? We are human and members of the Lucian Alliance!" A soldier snarled.
"You need proof? Fine, show them." Frost urged.
"Please direct your attention to the holographic screen behind you." Thor directed.
A holographic display screen appeared several feet behind the three patient beds. On that screen, a number of photos were displayed. On the first photo, an Asgard was seen sitting in a chair speaking to a number of Earth dignitaries within the bowels of the Pentagon. The next photo showed an Asgard staring up at the Washington Monument on Earth. The last photo showed an Asgard seated next to a blonde woman, riding the Thunder Mountain roller coaster at Disney Land.
"These photos mean nothing!" A soldier hissed.
"Still need a bit more proof? Fine, follow me." Frost said innocently.
Inclined to follow orders when given, the three Lucian Alliance soldiers in Asgard bodies followed behind Frost and the others. Leaving the observation room, the group made their way seventy feet down the sterile hallway. Walking into a doorway off the hall, the three Alliance soldiers went silent at the sight before them. There, in stasis pods mounted into the far wall, were their bodies. Moving closer to the stasis pods merely confirmed to each that the bodies within were truly those they had seen in the mirror every morning for a lifetime.
"I understand this may come as somewhat of a shock. Take your time." Frost said sympathetically.
"We need you to provide us with the information you gathered." Thor urged.
"How can we be expected to believe this?" A soldier asked in an uncertain voice.
"You are Asgard. I know you are confused, but in time this will all make sense." Thor answered.
"This feels wrong." Another soldier said with sorrow.
"It feels wrong because it is supposed to feel wrong. The memories of a human life you carry are not your own." Heimdall explained.
"We created and implanted the memory of those lives." Thor stated.
"Why?" A soldier asked in shock.
"We did this to protect you from discovery by the Lucian Alliance. You feel a strong sense of loyalty to the Lucian Alliance, do you not?" Frost asked.
"Yes." The three soldiers replied in unison.
"We gave that sense of loyalty to you so that you could succeed in your task." Thor replied.
"Tell us what you learned. The future of your people, your true people, rides on this." Frost suggested.
"This is your chance to go down in the annals of history as the Asgard who saved their race." Thor pressed.
"I always knew I did not belong. Now I know why." A soldier said, more to himself than anyone.
"We are finally home?" Another soldier asked, mentally putting up the white flag of surrender.
"Yes, you are finally home." Thor said solemnly.
Moving to more comfortable surroundings, the three Alliance soldiers disclosed all they knew about current Alliance activities. First, they told of a new home world, filled with the peoples of many worlds. Some of the Alliance, others kidnapped and pressed into service as slave labor. They described an ever-growing fleet, and improvements to Goa'uld designs of the past. Finally, they went into Alliance motivations. They sought retribution from Earth for the humiliation of defeat, and from Earth's denial of Destiny to the Alliance. The information these men passed along would be put to use soon.
Please leave a review. It only takes a moment, and it is greatly appreciated! Thanks!