...So, somehow it's nearly August and I have no idea how that happened. Having said that, the good news is that I not only have this brand new chapter for you, but I've also got the next two written as well. They still need editing, of course, but that definitely won't take me another month. Thanks for your patience, guys, and for all the comments! We're finally in the last stretch... this time for sure.
Act VIII, pt ii
LIGHT
Despite the noise from battle outside, the children had somehow managed to fall asleep, their small bodies finally giving in to exhaustion despite fear and hunger. Walter turned away from the crack in the hastily boarded-up window – it was nothing fancy, just garbage bags and as many stiff boards and magazines as he could find and duct tape over it to keep the smoke and dust out. Wouldn't protect them against the bombs, of course, but the old house had a sturdy basement. And maybe they'd get lucky.
To think they'd retired from Denver to Manitou Springs for some peace and quiet. And the beauty of the mountains.
His back was stiff from hours of sitting on the cold basement floor; his muscles shook slightly as he carefully eased himself down from the rickety step-stool they kept down here. Agnes kept telling him they needed to replace it before one of them got hurt. He supposed it hardly mattered now.
He met his wife's green eyes. Even tired and bright with tears, they were beautiful. The two of them were supposed to be boarding a cruise ship in three weeks, their first tropical vacation. It didn't look like they were going to make it to the Caribbean now. Or anywhere else. And, if he was completely honest, he wouldn't mind it quite so much if it meant he never had to contemplate ever living without her. But the grandchildren.
They were curled up against her from either side, clutching at her bright yellow sweater even in their sleep. He remembered how excited they'd been when they'd arrived two days ago to spend a week at their grandma and grandpa's while their parents attended a conference in Colorado Springs. Agnes had baked up a storm for their arrival and just yesterday evening the boys had helped her bake some more cookies – with colourful sprinkles for variety.
They'd been waiting for them to cool when they'd heard the first screams. And then the ground had begun to shake. It hadn't stopped since. There hadn't been time to do anything but run down into the basement and barricade the doors and windows. Walter still cursed his old, feeble mind that he hadn't thought to grab so much as a single tray of cookies, or the pitcher of water from the fridge. He didn't dare venture upstairs, in case he caught the attention of an enemy soldier. Maybe they'd leave the house alone if they thought it was empty...
The radio had said they were aliens, but they sure didn't look anything like the little green men he and his wife had seen enthusiastically decorating parts of Roswell the one time they'd driven through the city. He'd heard them clanging by, jogging instead of marching. Could sometimes catch a glimpse of their red cloaks – they looked like they'd just walked off the set of a Hollywood historical epic, not a spaceship.
A sudden blast shook the ground so hard it made him stumble to the ground. His sight flashed white as pain shot up from his kneecap, but any cry he made was drowned out by the dull sound of impact and the shattering of glass. The children woke up with identical cries of alarm. Gritting his teeth, Walter breathed through the pain, concentrating on the sound of Agnes' voice as she calmed the children, desperate not to made another sound. What if he gave them away?
There was silence for a moment, except for the continuous accompaniment of gunfire and those damn laser blasts in the distance. More blasts, further away. The house shook slightly. The wooden ceiling creaked ominously.
Why the hell couldn't the aliens have gone to New Mexico like they were supposed to have?
And then Walter's thoughts stopped as heard a different sort of creek. He held his breath. For several moments there was nothing. And then another creek. It was the floorboard right outside the living room. The one that was nearly impossible to step over.
Walter staggered to his feet, wincing at the pain in his knee – it would be one hell of a bruise, no doubt. He met his wife's wide-eyed, frightened look and then helplessly looked at the boys. The basement was sturdy, but it wasn't designed with hiding in mind.
He saw Agnes' hands tighten around the boys' shoulders before pushing them both away. "Quick," she whispered, "Patrick, Nicholas, both of you find a hiding place. A box, a little corner, wherever you can. Find a spot and stay there until we tell you to come out."
The boys hesitated. "But grandma..." Nicholas protested as Agnes climbed to her feet.
"Don't argue with me, go!"
Finally they scurried away and Agnes moved to Walter's side. He pulled her close and inhaled her scent. "My Agnes," he whispered.
"Walter," she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. He remembered a time when he would sweep her off her feet and carry her as she laughed. That had been a long time ago.
When he heard steps coming down the stairs, he pulled away. One last look into her eyes and then he hurried over to the toolbox and pulled out a rusty old ax. They used to take it with them when they went camping with the children, the six of them together. It probably hadn't been sharpened since their youngest went off to college.
Agnes was holding a broom when he joined her. Her hands were shaking, but her head was held high. He smiled at her reassuringly.
The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs.
"I love you, Walter," he heard Agnes whisper.
Another explosion rocked the house and Walter stumbled. Agnes caught him before he fell and the two of them just managed to keep their footing. He heard a muffled cry of alarm from somewhere behind him and he tensed further. Something on the main floor came crashing down with a bang and shattering china. The window at the back of the basement shattered.
One of the boys screamed, but Walter had no time to check which one because then the basement door was crashing open. Three shadows crouched on the other side, thin beams of light pointing into the darkness.
"Sir, Ma'am?" a deep voice asked.
Agnes gasped just as one of the beams of light moved, illuminating the American flag stitched onto the front man's uniform. Walter blinked, sagging with relief and feeling tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
"Y-yes?" he said.
"I'm Captain Browning, United States Marine Corp of the Battle Cruiser Daedalus, sir. We're here to get you out. Is it just the two of you down here?"
"No, our grandsons..."
"Patrick, Nicholas, you can come out now!" Agnes called out. "Hurry!"
"Grandma, Patrick's hurt!" Nicholas called back, sounding panicked.
"Sergeant, we need a medic!"
"Yes sir."
The next five minutes passed in a blur of movement. A large burly sergeant helped pull Patrick out of the pile of boxes that had fallen around him and allowed the arriving medic inspected the heavily bleeding wound on his arm, where a large shard of glass had impaled him. Nicholas looked more upset at his little brother's wound than Patrick, who just stared at it, trembling slightly, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
"He's in shock," said the medic. "Best thing would be to get him to medical before it wears off completely, and he realizes how much it hurts and starts panicking."
"Look, just take the children and go," Walter told him. "Agnes and I will only slow you down."
The Captain looked him and chuckled, but his eyes were serious when he said: "Sir, we don't believe in leaving people behind." And then he pulled a round disc out of his pocket with a single red button on top. "Besides, you're taking the expressway outta here."
He knelt down next to Nicholas. "Hey there, buddy, you a Harry Potter fan?"
Nicholas blinked at him and nodded slowly.
"Awesome. I've got a nephew and he loves Harry Potter too. Anyway, I'm gonna need to hold tight to your little brother and to your grandma and grandpa too. See this disc? This is like your portkey, so you've all gotta be holding on tight to make sure it doesn't leave anyone behind. Got it?"
"Yeah," said Nicholas, his attention now shifting between his brother and the apparent portkey.
Walter tried to remember what a portkey was and drew a blank. The gist was clear, though, so he and Agnes both stepped in closer to hold onto the boys when the Captain stood and handed him the disc.
"Huddle together and then press the button," he said.
Walter took it and turned it over. Well, there was only one way to find out what it did, he supposed. He looked up to the Captain and his men. "Thank you, all of you. Thank you. And good luck to you."
"God bless you," said Agnes.
Walter pressed the button. It flashed red for a few moments and then white light enveloped them. He blinked...
"Medic!"
Walter blinked the light out of his eyes, his ears ringing with the din of... hang on. His jaw dropped as he took in the changed scenery. The walls were made of metal and there were computer panels lining one of the walls. This wasn't their house. He couldn't hear any explosions either.
"Sir?" he started at the unexpected voice beside him. A young woman with dark skin and short black hair was standing beside him. She looked tired, exhausted even, but she was still managing a small smile for him. "Sorry, but I'm afraid I need the transponder back."
He looked down at the disc he was holding and then handed it over. She thanked him and hurried off to another astonished-looking couple standing a little ways from them. Walter thought they looked familiar. Perhaps he'd seen them at the grocery store. Agnes would know.
"Wow, where are we?" he heard Nicholas ask, voice full of the sort of exaggerated wide-eyed wonder only children could pull off without sounding completely addled.
Someone chuckled. Walter looked down to where another young woman was examining Patrick's arm. "Welcome aboard the USS Daedalus," she said, winking at him. "You're on a spaceship." Then she stood. Looking over her shoulder she called to one of the techs. "Looks like the wound's pretty deep. Send them to the medical centre!"
"Got it!"
The medic turned back to them. "Don't worry, they'll take good care of you there."
And then there was more white light. It dissolved into bright sunlight that shone into his eyes, the first glimpse he'd seen in what felt like an eternity. People in scrubs descended on them moments later and Patrick was put on a gunnery and given an IV in short order.
It was hours later that Walter found out they were in New Mexico. He laughed so hard his sides ached.
Colonel Greyson stared at the screen. "Please tell me that's one of ours," he said. It was smaller, more utilitarian than the Ori ship had been, more like the Earth ships he'd seen on the news broadcast, but not one that had participated in the battle. She was too pristine, with not enough nicks or dents or scorch marks on her. Even if she did look a bit like a flying brick with guns. Lots and lots of guns...
"That's the USS Daedalus, sir," said Colonel Pallin, barely hidden excitement in his voice. "She made it back on time!"
"That's Colonel Caldwell for you, he's always got the best timing," said Sergeant West.
Greyson blinked at the strange statement, wondering what this colonel had the best timing for. Then he shook his head. Nope, he had more important things to concentrate on at the moment. Though part of him wished he'd been on the ground to see the ship slip down from the clouds. That must've been quite the sight. Then he watched as it opened fire on the Ori soldiers trying to make their way into Manitou Springs and he found he didn't really care about the aesthetic of the ship's arrival, because that was some serious firepower it was packing. And he had the feeling it was holding back big time on account of the nearby city. Even more than before, he could truly visualize the sort of devastation the Ori ship could've wrought.
The gym doors swung open and Greyson looked away from the screen showing Manitou Springs to where a new group of people was entering, a small contingent of airmen dragging equipment he didn't recognize. A young woman wearing what looked like an on-base flight suit with a tack vest thrown over it was giving orders. Most of the group hurried over to the long tables where SG-11 had set up their equipment, being readily greeted by the science team (and Lieutenant Miles, Pallin's 'tech guy', who'd joined them shortly after the battle had begun). The woman, however, hurried over to the command post.
There were dark circles around her blood-shot eyes, her hair was half out of its perfunctory bun, but her back was straight and her steps sure. Her salute was regulation perfect as she greeted Colonel Pallin.
Pallin grinned as he returned the greeting and salute. "Captain Hailey, this is Ground Command Leader, Colonel Greyson from Fort Carson. Colonel, Hailey here's usually a member of SG2, but she's been on loan to Area 51 for the past couple months working on planet-wide defense systems."
Captain Hailey's odd uniform made sense now. "I take it that's where you were during the attack, Captain?" he asked anyway.
Captain Hailey nodded to him, her face blank. "Yes, sir. When the base came under attack from Ori flyers, we evacuated and retreated to a safe distance. Once the Ori flyers left, we went back to see what we could salvage and then proceeded to Colorado Springs to assist. Under orders from General Landry, my teams and I have set up three shielded sites running on naquadah generators along the north-east of Manitou Springs to protect civilians. With Iron Patriot's help we redirected civilian evacuees into these sites and currently have nearly eleven thousand civilians safely inside the shielded areas."
Colonel Greyson blinked. Naquadah? "How long will these generators last?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Without any interference, years. Under heavy fire, they'll last a minimum of ten hours, sir. If we're talking stave blasts only, then I'd estimate it closer to 24."
"That's excellent news, Captain. You and your people deserve a break."
"Negative, sir." Captain Hailey interrupted him and Greyson frowned at the stubborn glint that appeared in the woman's eyes. So this was what she'd been hiding behind her blank facade. "We just received some files from the Victory via the Daedalus that we need to assess."
"The Victory?" Pallin asked.
Hailey smirked. "SG1's little miracle, sir. The Ancients called her the Viltoriaus, which translates to Victory. McKay's used her systems to do an in-depth scan of one of the Ori stave weapons, which General O'Neill's passing on to us and the SGC to analyze for weaknesses. We already know a simple EM pulse won't do a thing to them, but maybe we can find something else that will."
"Woah, hang on, did McKay arrive on the Daedalus?" Pallin asked incredulously.
Greyson looked back and forth between the two air force officers, irritated by how out-of-his-depth he was feeling listening to their conversation.
"No, he was on the Victory and, no, I didn't get the full story. All I know is that somehow SG1 managed to come back with more personnel than they left with, and where they acquired them from is still classified."
There was a significant pause during which Greyson couldn't help but notice the quick look he got from Pallin. He gritted his teeth, knowing full well that the air force officers had no more control over what they could tell him than he did. It didn't make him any happier.
"Captain, I'll have someone bring you and your people some food," he said instead, recognizing how useful finding an exploitable weakness in the Ori's weaponry would be. "Report to me as soon as you have something viable."
Captain Hailey nodded once and then saluted. "Yes, sir." She spun on her heel and hurried over to what he'd taken to calling the 'science corner' in his mind.
He looked back to the satellite images and saw that the Daedalus had launched its own F-302s into the fray. They were flying above the city and making bombing runs of Ori troop concentrations in the streets.
A bright light appeared in the corner of his vision and Colonel Greyson's head snapped to the side to... watch as a tall dark-haired woman in a blue flightsuit appeared inside a swirling beam of lights. He was dimly aware of the gymnasium falling silent as they all froze in shock – except for the scientists, who'd apparently glanced up, deemed the magically appearing woman uninteresting, and went back to whatever they'd been doing.
Oh dear God that had been a transporter. Like in Star Trek...
"So, I gather the Ori having transporter tech was an actual possibility and not just a jest," he said dryly as the woman surveyed the room. It took her mere moments to find them and begin to head in their direction.
"Not so much, no," said Pallin. He sounded almost cheerful.
Greyson glared at him. "I'm not sure I like how much you seem to be enjoying this." He scanned the room. "Alright people, you've got jobs to do, so quit gawking!" he barked at the soldiers who were still staring after the airman.
"I'd say I was sorry, but..."
Greyson waved him off, not caring for his half-assed apology. He had a feeling that 'raw recruit' had an entirely different meaning at the SGC than it did elsewhere, and was probably measured by how much gaping a person did.
And then the dark-haired woman was saluting them. "Sirs," she said, her voice surprisingly high-pitched. "Lieutenant O'Reilly of the USS Daedalus. Colonel Caldwell sends his regards and some communicators."
"At ease, Lieutenant," said Greyson, eyeing the surprisingly small silver case she was holding in her left hand as she dropped the salute. Her left pant leg was covered in dark grease smudges and there was a burn on her jacket. Engineering division, he guessed. "I'm assuming this is to give us direct communications with your ship?"
"Yes, sir. It'll be easier to co-ordinate troop transport if you and the Colonel can talk directly."
Greyson blinked. "Troop transport...?" No sooner had he articulated the question, his eyes were widening as he realized what the Lieutenant was implying. "You mean you can transport more than one person at a time?"
The young woman nodded. "The Daedalus transporters can handle a load of up to thirty-eight people at once with a delay of fifteen seconds between loads. Equipment can be a bit trickier, but no one on the planet knows Asgard transporter tech like Captain Novak, sir."
The pride in the woman's voice was obvious, though she was managing to keep her expression mostly neutral. More impressive was that when she said 'no one on the planet', she probably meant it to the letter. Greyson realized there was something incredibly reassuring about knowing that the people he was working with were the absolute the best the world had to offer.
"Alright, let's set up this communications, uh, system?" he said.
The Lieutenant raised an amused eyebrow. Then she set the small case on the table and deftly opened it. The two ear pieces she pulled out of the case were almost disappointingly normal-looking. "I've already calibrated the ear pieces to communicate directly with the Daedalus, although you could re-tune them to contact the SGC or any of the other ships. Except for the Victory. Doctor McKay apparently hasn't had the chance to tune the Victory's systems to accept direct SGC communication frequencies yet."
Colonel Greyson and Colonel Pallin each accepted a communicator. Greyson examined his for a moment to familiarize himself with the position of its controls, before sliding it into place around his ear.
"O'Reilly to Daedalus," said the Lieutenant as soon as they had their communicators in place. "Colorado Springs Ground Command has communications set up."
A moment later, the communicator in Greyson's ear came to life and he heard a smooth male voice that sounded clearer than any radio he'd ever used in the field. "Ground Command, this is Colonel Caldwell of the Daedalus. Please come in, Ground Command."
He tapped the side of his communicator. "Ground Command here," he said, already turning towards his satellite maps. "This is Colonel Greyson. You and your ship are quite the pleasant surprise, Colonel Caldwell."
There was a slight chuckle. "Believe it or not, I tend to get that a lot."
"So I've heard. Now, Lieutenant O'Reilly mentioned that you'd be able to help with troop transport?"
"That I most certainly can, Colonel. I've also got ten teams of marines infiltrating the buildings behind enemy lines looking for trapped civilians and transporting them out of the area."
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a beam of light as Lieutenant O'Reilly beamed back to her ship.
Courtesans, servants and warriors alike moved to the side as Thor stormed through the palace halls, the look in his eyes hard and sparking with anger. There was blood trickling from a livid burn on his left arm, and a bruise forming on the right side of his jaw. His hair was dulled with soot and dust, the locks wilder than usual and still crackling with the energy of battle. His armour was scorched and dented, the bright red cape matted with dirt and grime as it flowed behind him, like a punctuation of spilled blood.
No one dared approach the God of Thunder when he was clearly so fresh from the battlefield, and furious.
Thor was grateful for the reprieve, for he did not trust himself to act civilly to anyone at the moment. He knew he was opening himself up for speculation and that rumour mongers would no doubt have much to say about his argument with his father. Right now, he did not care. Let his father deal with the rumours, and let the Asgardian court think what it would of his confidence in his father's rule.
He wasn't quite sure when a second set of footfalls began to match his steps. He growled at the interloper to scare them off and was rewarded with a low chuckle.
"Peace, my friend," he heard Fandral say. "We heard word that you had arrived back from Midgard bloodied from battle. I can assume from your unpleasant dour that your request for aid has not been granted by Odin?"
Thor felt something in him relax at the presence of his shieldbrother, even as his steps quickened. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "Odin has not granted my request for warriors to aid Midgard."
The warriors guarding the gate to the Rainbow Bridge opened the doors upon their approach and Thor swept through, Fandral still at his heels. Half-way down the bridge Thor paused, the haze of anger dissipating as he suddenly became aware of the rather substantial crowd gathered on the Bridge, gazing with rapt attention into the depths of Heimdall's vision pools. He frowned and continued on, his approach still quick, but more cautious.
In the centre of the crowd he saw his friends and shieldmates and, surrounding them, he recognized traditional scholars' robes interspersed among Asgardian warriors. Thor relaxed at that, knowing that whatever their purpose, his father had not sent anyone to stop him from returning to Midgard.
Lady Sif was the first to turn to greet them, her eyes sparkling with excitement and lips spread in a grin. "Thor, it seems you were right to think Midgardians interesting," she proclaimed. "What surprises they seem to have been hiding!"
Thor grinned, aware it must've looked almost feral. "In truth even I did not expect this surprise, shieldsister, though I am pleased to see this development."
"Ah, Prince Thor!" he heard a voice exclaim. One of the scholars had looked away from the pools. Thor couldn't remember his name, but knew he had been a good friend of his mother's. "Tell us, do you know what this enemy the Midgardians fight is called?"
"The enemy are called the Ori. They call themselves gods, but they are cowards for instead of facing the Midgardians directly, they send armies of mortals in their stead."
A murmur of censor passed through the gathering. Even Asgard scholars were warriors, after all, and cowardliness was the worst sin a warrior could commit. A cowardly enemy was one that deserved no respect.
"Heimdall tells us they arrived in great ships, royally decked out in while and gold," said Volstagg jovially. "And that you took one of the beasts out with a single mighty blow reminiscent of Odin himself."
Thor grinned proudly. "That I did." And then the grin slipped off his face. "But I'm afraid I cannot tarry here. The battle is far from done and I must return to the field."
"Of course," said Lady Sif. "Why do you think we are here?"
He blinked. "King Odin has forbidden me from taking any Asgardian warriors with me back to Midgard."
"Ah, but has he forbidden your friends from visiting you?"
He felt his own expression echo her sly smile. "No, my Lady, that he has not."
Fandral clasped his shoulder. "Then it's settled. We insist on accompanying you into battle with these cowardly Ori."
"Truly, we refuse to be dissuaded," Hogun added, his expression as serious as ever, though his eyes betrayed his eagerness.
Thor grinned and clasped Fandral's shoulder in response. "Then I welcome your company, my friends. Heimdall, send us into the thick of our enemy, so that we may scatter them like the insects they are!"
Heimdall seemed amused as he inclined his head. "Very well, my Prince."
The light of the Rainbow Bridge surrounded them and sent them flying across space, millions of stars zipping past too fast for them to see, until finally they arrived with a clap of burning thunder. The scent of fresh ozone and burnt sulfur clung to them as they got their first look at the battlefield. They were standing in an intersection of roads, scorched, torn-up buildings on all sides. Somewhere to their left they heard the pained whimpering of an injured animal.
The Ori's soldiers stood in the streets, evidently surprised by the sudden appearance of five Asgardian warriors in their midst.
"Well, it would seem we have our enemy in our sights," said Hogun.
"And already they tremble before our might," Volstagg exclaimed.
"Indeed," said Fandral, raising his shield.
The Ori soldiers raised their stave weapons cautiously, as though waiting for more warriors to drop down from the sky. Thor grinned menacingly.
Lady Sif drew her sword. "Then may we meet once more in the hallowed halls of Vallhala."
The Ori soldiers finally recovered from their shock and began to shoot at them.
Thor raised his hammer. "For Midgard!" he cried.
"For Midgard!" the others echoed him as they threw themselves upon the enemy.
It was a common misconception that Jeannie was the 'nice' and amiable McKay sibling. Or at least when people saw her next to Meredith, who was loud and didn't bother to hide his anger, irritation or derision with anything, they tended to come to the conclusion that she was his polar opposite. And in many ways she was, which helped with the misconception.
This meant they were then surprised when she proved that she was his sister and every bit as capable of preforming verbal evisceration at the drop of a hat. Or manly ego. Exhausted and nerves frayed thin, she almost felt sorry for the airmen she'd encountered in the corridors on her way to find the General. At least she knew she probably would eventually.
General Laundry had looked up and groaned at her entrance, not even bothering to mask the irritation in his voice. The lines on his face were deeper than usual and the circles around his eyes looked almost black.
"Mrs. Miller, I assure you we are doing everything we can to end things sooner, but the base is on Level 5 lockdown," he said before she'd had a chance to open her mouth. "That means nothing in or out until we get the all-clear from the battlefield."
"I'm aware of that, General," Jeannie snapped, too tired for diplomacy. "Do you really think I want to take my daughter outside while there are still people shooting at each other?!"
Landry blinked slowly and then nodded, conceding the point. Jeannie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking out into the Gateroom for a moment in order to find some shred of inner peace.
The room below was deserted now except for a small contingent of guards and the Stargate itself. They'd moved everyone else out hours ago, once it became clear the Ori soldiers had veered off towards Manitou Springs instead of towards the Mountain. Landry had offered to have extra cots brought to the VIP rooms, but except for a few of the familes, most of the Lifeboat members had opted to remain in the large conference room they'd first been taken to. No one wanted to be alone, or far from the television.
Though impossible to tell from inside the Mountain, Jeannie knew it was well past dawn. She'd left Madison snuggled up to Caleb with a quick, heartfelt kiss. Sleep hadn't come for her during the night, though the constant stress and worry was far more draining than the loss of sleep.
She met General Landry's curious eyes. "I know I'm not one of your scientists, but is there something I can help with anyway?" she asked.
His eyebrows raised in surprise, though she wasn't sure why. She was a McKay, after all. He was silent for a moment, thoughtful.
"Well, now that you mention it..." he finally said. "Your brother sent us some scans he took of the Ori stave weapons using the equipment on the Victory. They're more detailed than anything we've managed before. Most of our scientists were either at Area 51 or helping with the Phoenix, so I've forwarded the files to Captain Hailey of SG2. However, everyone currently looking at them has been working more or less non-stop for the past week, so I'm sure they'd appreciate a fresh set of eyes."
She frowned. "Weapons are a bit out of my usual area of expertise, but if you've got a computer terminal for me to use, I'll happily take a look at the files."
General Landry motioned to one of the airmen standing around the Control Room. "I'll have someone take you down to Carter's lab and set up communications with SG11 at Ground Command and the Victory."
Jeannie smiled. "Thank you, General."
"Carson!" Rodney called as he rushed into the medical bay, glancing up from his tablet for the scant half-second it took to establish the location of the door frame so he didn't run into it. Around him, he heard the gentle humming of medical machines and someone's rough, wheezy breathing.
What he didn't hear was Carson replying.
He looked up and scanned the room. Half the beds were taken up by scientists from the Antarctic outpost, three marines Rodney thought looked vaguely familiar and two other airmen. There was no Carson. Rodney blinked in confusion, his mind taking several long moments to comprehend what he was seeing.
He tapped his communicator. "Carson, this is Rodney. I'm in the infirmary, where are you?"
"Rodney, this is Carson. I'm in the adjoining room, off to your left."
Rodney scanned the infirmary again looking for a door. Finally, he noticed a small yellow light shining from a slightly protruding wall panel. It was the most subtle door interface he'd ever seen the Ancients use – as though they were trying to hide its existence as much as they could without actually making it invisible. Curious, he waved his hand in front of the panel and the door slid open to reveal a brightly-lit room with a single, round computer terminal in the centre and oval-shaped man-sized pods lining the walls at 45 degree angles.
Carson and his temporary minion, Sam, were hovering over one of the pods. Rodney walked silently over to them, curiosity momentarily overriding the panicked fear steadily humming in the back of his mind. The door slid shut behind him, leaving the room in an odd sort of hush, as though the pristine white-silver walls would swallow any sounds they tried to make.
Sam was the first to look up as he approached, the man obviously a soldier first. He nodded to Rodney.
"What's this, stasis pods?" Rodney asked, his sentence punctuated with a wide yawn. Carson glanced up, his eyes roaming up and down Rodney with concern. Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Carson, just tired. Exhausted."
There was a flash of understanding in his friend's eyes, and a barely-there nod.
Sam just looked between them. "Yeah, they're stasis pods," he said. "And for the record, I think they're pretty cool, even if to you guys they're 'just another alien thing'."
"There's a lot of them here for such a small ship," said Rodney as he peeked inside the one they were hovering over. He pulled back immediately at the gruesome sight inside: a young soldier with half his left shoulder blasted off, right down to the collar bone. "Whoa!"
"Mitchell asked us to take him," said Carson. "The young lad here would've most likely died on the way to the hospital and he thought that maybe we had some sort of tissue regeneration device on-board that could help him."
"This isn't a tissue regeneration device," Rodney pointed out needlessly.
Carson rolled his eyes. "Aye, I'm aware of that. I'm also not about to perform major surgery of this nature on me own, device or no device."
Rodney rubbed at his eyes. "Right, of course, so you stuck him into a stasis chamber until you can get him to a proper hospital. That's not a bad idea... oh! That's why there's so many pods right next to the infirmary."
"That's our theory," said Sam. "I was kinda puzzled that for a warship, it seemed to have a strangely small infirmary and only one operating room."
"Actually, lad, I think there might be a second one down below us," said Carson. "The database I found seemed to mention having a sealed room with extra security."
"Like the one we have on Atlantis."
"Exactly. I think this ship was meant to be stationed at the city with an on-board medical team for emergencies or minor injuries. The stasis pods seem to be for major injuries, preserving the patients' conditions until they can be handed over to a proper medical team at someplace like Atlantis."
"Huh. That's surprisingly efficient given the Ancient's usual haphazardness."
There was something there, something hovering just at the periphery of his brain, a lone thought trying to break its way through the haze of exhaustion. Rodney yawned again, and the thought vanished.
"Anyway, as fascinating as this is," said Rodney. "That's not why I'm here."
"No, I imagine 'tis not," said Carson as he stepped away from the stasis pod and his patient. "Come on then."
Relieved that he wouldn't need to convince him of the necessity, Rodney followed Carson out into the main part of the infirmary. The room felt fuzzy around the edges, and a bit like it was listing to the side. Or maybe that was just him. There was a metal chair sitting against the wall, so Rodney sat down, knowing Carson would insist on it anyway. The metal felt oddly warm.
"What are you giving him?" he heard Sam ask. It sounded like the dark-skinned man was frowning.
"Just a stimulant."
"Woah, that's not even a mild one. Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"It's not, which is why we reserve it for desperate situations only."
"Which this is," Rodney interjected, sending the full force of his glare at Sam. "I may be able to do math in my sleep, but are you really sure you want to risk the potential fate of New York City, and possibly the world, on calculations I make while half-asleep?" He snorted. "Trust me, I've done this before and the inevitable crash is definitely not something I want to go through unless there's absolutely no other choice."
Sam seemed mollified by his words. Not that Rodney cared if the man disapproved. The only person whose agreement he needed was Carson's, if only because he was the one with the stimulants. And Carson knew full well how much Rodney hated the feeling of being on stimulants, that shaky, wide-eyed feeling that made him hyper-aware and a bit like he was flying, yet grounded at the same time. If Rodney wanted to stay in the lab for long hours without sleep, he wanted it to be science and the excitement of discovery that kept him awake, not an outside, artificial source. Coffee didn't count.
And then Carson was by his side. "Yer sure?" he asked Rodney.
Rodney held out his arm. "Napping isn't really an option, so yes."
Carson sighed. "Make a fist then."
Rodney winced at the prick of the needle.
"Now you know the drill, lad," Carson was saying as he pushed the stimulant into Rodney's bloodstream. "Any unusual symptoms – racing heart, blurry vision and the like – you come to me immediately and once this is over, you come seem me so I can check your vitals."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, of course."
Carson huffed and pulled the needle out. Thirty seconds later, Rodney felt a rush of adrenaline as the stimulant took effect, like a wave of electricity that had him nearly gasping under its onslaught, forcing his eyes wide open and rebooting his brain.
The illusive thought came crashing back and Rodney leapt to his feet. "The stasis chamber!" he exclaimed. He grabbed his tablet, fingers flying through specs and calculations as he raced out the door. Behind him, he vaguely heard someone wishing him luck, but he ignored them.
He made his way back to the Secondary Chair Room mostly on automat, only occasionally glancing up to make sure he was going the right way. On Atlantis he didn't need to look up at all anymore, but this wasn't Atlantis.
"Rogers, can you change the electro-magnetic frequency and output levels of the drones?" he demanded as he breezed into the room.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve Rogers look up and blink at him. "Uhh..."
He waved him off. "Nevermind, I'll take a look at the specs and walk you through it." He paused. "Damn, I'll probably have to be down in engineering for that. Unless..."
He took a deep breath and thought about the specs he wanted. Suddenly, a holographic display popped into existence at his side, showing schematics for the drones and their current stats. "Ha!" he exclaimed, grinning happily.
"Okay, I'll admit that is really cool," said Tony as he came out from behind the engineering console. He was frowning at him warily. "But what the hell happened to you? You looked dead on your feet when you left and now you're practically bouncing off the walls: did you take an IV of coffee or something?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately there's not enough coffee on Atlantis to waste it on an IV. I got Carson to give me a stimulant." He froze. "Oh my god, I'm in the Milky Way! I'm on Earth, the planet of Starbucks and Tim Hortons! I should tell Lorne to stop by a drive-through once we're done with the Ori army."
The marine at the console snorted. "I'm pretty sure you can't take a spaceship to a drive-thru," she said.
"Why not? It's a vehicle!"
"Hey, I've taken the suit through drive-thrus before," said Tony, grinning madly. "We should do it just to see the look on the staff's faces."
Steve chuckled. "That would be something for sure."
"Mmm, and doughnuts," said Rodney dreamily. "We should get doughnuts." He blinked and then snapped his fingers. "But first, let's rid of this Ori army. Then we can have caffeinated bliss. Okay, so Rogers–"
Which was when his comm unit came to life. "McKay, this is O'Neill, come in."
Rodney groaned and tapped his comm. "McKay here. What is it?"
"We've got in-coming communications for you from the SGC."
Rodney frowned. "But there's no one useful left at the SGC."
"Gee, thanks, Mer. I'll try not to take that too personally."
Rodney blinked. "Jeannie?! Wait, what are you doing at the SGC? Did they bring you in to help with something? No, wait that doesn't make any sense. All the projects would've been moved to Area 51."
There was an exasperated sound over the comm and he could picture his sister rolling her eyes. "They brought us here in case they needed to evacuate as a last resort."
"Oh. Right. The, uh, Lifeboat last resort. Wait, does that mean Madison's with you?"
"And Caleb, yes."
"Okay good. Good. That's great that you're all safe. Er, safe-ish. I'm assuming the defenses are holding up since you haven't been evacuated yet."
"The Ori army apparently decided Colorado Springs and Cheyenne Mountain were too well-defended after Thor, the Avenger, took their ship down single-handedly. They've changed direction to Manitou Springs. The Daedalus is hovering above the town the last time I checked, but it's bad, Mer. It's really bad."
Rodney took a deep breath. "It's gotten a bit better here. We've managed to find some neat Nox tech – at least we're assuming it's Nox – that made the soldiers' weapons disappear."
"Nox tech? You've got Nox tech on that ship?!"
Rodney frowned. That female voice wasn't his sister, although it did sound vaguely familiar. His sister's voice cut into the conversation moments later.
"I have no idea what that means, but I'll assume it's impressive since it can apparently make weapons disappear. Incidentally, that would be a weapon I fully approve of."
"Wait, why are you still in New York if you've taken care of the army there? We're looking at hours, if not days, of fighting in Manitou Springs even with the Daedalus helping. Why aren't you on your way here to magic away the weapons?"
Rodney's frown deepened. "Okay, first of all, you'll have to take that up with General O'Neill. Secondly, it's only a temporary solution and will only work so long as the device we used remains in close proximity. Thirdly, it's not magic. And lastly, just who the hell are you?"
Suddenly, Tony was beside him, grinning tiredly. "Hailey!" he exclaimed. "One of my three – no... five – most favourite women in the world! Definitely one of the brightest spots of the US Air Force."
Rodney wracked his brain. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
Hailey snorted. "This week, you mean."
"You wound me, Captain, my Captain."
The mention of rank sparked a moment of epiphany in Rodney's brain. He snapped his fingers. "Right, Captain Hailey, Sam's protege. The one she broke the rules for to keep from dropping out of the academy so that the air force didn't have to pay you more money later when they hired you as a civilian scientist, assuming you wanted to leave the civilian sector in the first place."
There was a long pause over the comm.
"Wow, Mer, that was insensitive even for you."
" Actually, no, I think I like this version. Civilian scientists do get paid better than the military ones, that's hardly a secret. But it's flattering to assume they'd have wanted me in on the project no matter what and this way they don't have to pay me as much. Hm, now I'm re-thinking my air force career again."
Rodney wished his sister was in the room so he could stick his tongue out at her. Or possibly do something more mature like smile smugly. "There, see, I'm apparently being accidentally flattering, not insensitive. Now, has everyone had a chance to look at the stave specs we passed along to the SGC?"
"Yes, I've got a team from Area 51 along with SG11 examining them."
"I'm looking at them now. I'm afraid most of this is outside my field. I'm more of a mathematician than an engineer."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony examining the holographic screen showing the specs. There was a deep frown on his face. "Does everyone in the program speak alien?" he suddenly asked.
Rodney rolled his eyes and pointed. "There's a translated version on my laptop."
"Ah." Tony looked around and then went to lean over the laptop that was plugged into the Ancient console. "Okay, yes, that's much better. Hmm."
"So far, we've got nothing new. The scans from the Victory are more detailed than what we've managed at Area 51 or the SGC, but there still doesn't seem to be a way to knock them out."
"Aha!" Rodney exclaimed smugly. "But that's the thing, we don't actually need to knock them out completely. We just need to made them freeze." He walked over to the holoscreen and began to sift through the data until he got to what his mind had connected to back in the infirmary. "During the firing sequence, there's a 1.8 second lag time between the stave's power core firing up and the actual plasma discharge."
"Oooh, good catch!" said Tony. "And during those 1.8 seconds, there's a slight radiation spike from the plasma chamber... no, sorry, the heat-conduit just outside the plasma chamber."
"Exactly!"
Captain Hailey's voice sounded thoughtful over the comm. "1.8 seconds is a narrow window, but if we can find a way to disrupt the firing sequence at the moment of that radiation spike, then we could theoretically stop the staves from firing."
"Or cause them to blow up," Rodney admitted. "But I'll take that for now and hope they catch on quick."
"Do we know what's causing the radiation?" Jeannie asked, sounding thoughtful.
"JARVIS, isolate that radiation spike and give me everything you can extrapolate from our scans," said Tony.
"Of course, sir, just one moment."
"In the meantime, I'll see if the Daedalus can get us some stave weapons of our own to analyze. Miles, go see if Pallin can arrange that."
Rodney nodded idly, knowing Hailey both couldn't see him and wasn't actually talking to him anyway. He wondered if the Victory's computer could do a stop-motion video analysis of the plasma firing process. And then he froze mid-thought.
"Oh my God, we are morons," he said and tapped his comm, pulling out of the science conversation and switching to the channel he'd created for the Victory's crew. "McKay to General O'Neill."
He was just beginning to get irritated at the lack of response, when his comm finally came to life.
"O'Neill here. Have you got something, McKay?"
"Maybe. At the moment we've got an idea and possibly a theory. Actually, I was wondering if Jackson could get his hands on some original stave blueprints from the Ori ship's database."
There was a pause. "I'll ask him and find out. O'Neill out."
Tony had looked up from the scans at some point during his exchange with the General. "Original blueprints?" he said with amused eyes. "Isn't that cheating?"
Rodney shrugged. "I am not above cheating when there are people shooting at me."
Somewhere high above them, the sun was shining. Its outline was just barely visible above the smoke and dust from the battle, which was finally beginning to settle despite the wind blowing through New York's streets. For the first time in close to twenty-four hours, the guns had gone silent.
The City That Never Slept, however, was far from silent. The Ori soldiers were retreating towards their ship. Mostly.
Mitchell's headache was growing by the minute.
"They're going which way?!" he yelled into his radio incredulously.
"They've veered off Broadway and up 50th Street, sir."
"But they didn't come from that direction! What exactly to they think they're going to do, catch a show while they're in the city?!"
"Er, maybe they're lost, sir?"
Mitchell groaned. "Lost. They got lost while retreating." He ran a hand over his face, way beyond caring how grimy it was. "Goddamn tourists! Couldn't they at least have grabbed a map at one of the shops? There's like ten thousand of them along the way. Wait, wasn't 50th blocked off with debris on that end?"
"Yes, sir. Apparently they found a way through."
"Great. That's fantastic. Thanks for the update, Lieutenant, I'll get someone to head them off and get them going back the right way. Mitchell out."
Cameron paused for a moment in the madness and looked up at the yellow-grey sky. "Fuuuck," was all he could think of to say as he stared at the brightly lit drones hovering menacingly several feet above his head. The moment passed and he shook his head before tapping his comm. "Mitchell to Victory. I repeat, Mitchell to Victory. Please respond."
Less than thirty seconds later, a voice he recognized as Lorne's XO came on over the comm. "Victory here, Colonel. What's your status?"
"Well, apparently we've got a group of Ori soldiers retreating in the wrong direction towards the Radio City Music Hall. Don't suppose you could get them to turn back around?"
"Copy that, Colonel. Standby."
While Cameron waited for further instructions, a short burst of gunfire erupted in the distance, accompanied by the deeper tones of staff weapons. It only lasted a few moments, but Cameron tensed at the sounds. Thankfully, the Ori soldiers didn't seem so far gone that they thought attacking their armed opponents was a good idea, but a few groups had apparently still felt the need to test the Earth-Jaffa joint forces' resolve. It left a sour taste in his mouth – which he was certain counted double for the Jaffa – but he knew the General had been right. Weapons or no, the Ori soldiers still had the advantage of sheer numbers.
"Victory to Mitchell. Backup is being redirected to Broadway and Lexington. Do you copy?"
Even as he tapped his comm, Cameron saw a snake of the Victory's mini-drones twist its way above the skyline and head towards 50th Street. He grinned at the sight. "Copy that. Mitchell out."
Movement high above him had him looking over his shoulder and into the clouds. He had his binoculars half-out of his vest pocket when the clouds parted and a geometric shadow slipped through. Around him he heard exclamations of surprise from soldiers.
He smothered his grin. "Hey, hustle to it, people!" he barked, pleased to see that his sharp voice was enough to break them out of their stupor. "There's no time for sight-seeing. You already know the Jaffa and the To'kra are allies, so get back to work! We need to get the Ori soldiers contained ASAP!"
Teal'c carefully kept the dismay off his face as he caught his first glance of the mountains from his ha'tak. The beautiful lush Colorado forests were scorched and bloody. His fists clenched at his sides. Though none would ever earn his anger as the Goa'uld had, observing the destruction the Ori and their followers had wreaked caused a very familiar burning deep within his chest.
Slowly, the ha'tak glided above the countryside towards the city the battle had spread to. Manitou Springs. Teal'c remembered the weekend SG1 had spent there. It had been years ago, when Teal'c had still been new to Earth and unused to walking among civilians without seeing either hatred or fear in their eyes. The city looked very different now.
"Scan the city and show me a layout of the battle," he commanded. Behind him, he heard the Jaffa at operations acknowledge the order. He turned to the female Hak'tyl warrior at communications. "Hail the Tau'ri ship."
"Yes, Commander," she said, her fingers nimbly flying over the controls. A few moments later, she looked up at him. "Commander, I have the Daedalus."
He nodded to her. "Put it on screen."
Teal'c looked up and into the grim face of Colonel Caldwell.
"Commander Teal'c, welcome to the party," said Caldwell. "We could certainly use your help."
Teal'c nodded. "Indeed. My pilots and ground troops are rested and ready to engage the enemy."
Bres'dek, his second, came to stand beside him and brought an image of the battlefield up on his console screen. Teal'c looked down, nodding his acknowledgment. His eyes scanned the battlefield, his years spent on Earth at the SGC having made him familiar with Tau'ri weaponry and battle tactics. A small smile of approval flashed across his face – the Ori soldiers' change of target had obviously caught them by surprise, but his allies were acquitting themselves well.
He looked back up to Colonel Caldwell. "I see there seems to be an isolated pocket of Tau'ri fighting Ori soldiers in the eastern part of the city. There doesn't seem to be anything strategically sound in that area, however, there is a school to the south of that position that will allow me the space to assemble my ground troops. From there we can cut a line across the Ori forces and join the Tau'ri contingent."
Colonel Caldwell snorted. "Those aren't our soldiers, they're Asgardian warriors. And come to think of it, you meeting up with them would serve the dual purpose of both increasing their effectiveness and giving us a way of communicating with them. Apparently, Ground Command was using War Machine until Thor suddenly disappeared. Now that he's back, War Machine's nowhere near his position."
Teal'c nodded solemnly. "The Asgard were mighty, honourable warriors. I look forward to fighting beside this incarnation."
Less than ten minutes later, Teal'c was standing in an abandoned schoolyard watching as the rings that had transported him there flashed back to the ship for the next load of warriors. Ring transporters were slower than the Asgard beam used by the Tau'ri, which was why he'd chosen a location the fighting hadn't reached yet. When he looked up, he saw an al'kesh fly out towards the school at their backs. According to Daedalus' scanners, there were a large number of lifesigns inside. His best engineers were aboard the al'kesh in order to expand their shields around the building, its weapons further protection for the children and teachers he assumed were inside.
He turned his eyes northwest, where the main battle was being fought. The Daedalus hovered above the city like a giant grey beast. Below it, F-302s darted back and forth, shots from their on-board weapons illuminating the dark cloud of dust and gunpowder enveloping the city like bright white bursts of fireworks. They were far enough from the battle that the noise wasn't deafening, but he could clearly hear the medley of Ori staves and Tau'ri automatic and larger caliber weapons. The ground beneath his feet shook from constant blasts.
When his troops were assembled, Tealc raised his communicator to his lips. "Bres'tak, this is Teal'c. Launch the gliders."
"Right away, Commander." There was a slight pause. "Gliders launched."
Even as his Second finished speaking, four squadrons of death gliders slid smoothly out of the side of Teal'c's ha'tak. They flew over his head as they went to join the F-302s over the battlefield.
Teal'c took a deep breath. "Jaffa kree!" he called out. "Assemble into formation!" He turned to his men – and women, he corrected himself internally – and observed them for a few moments. Determined eyes looked back at him, steady and silent, waiting with barely-suppressed anticipation. He noticed several of the younger men and women puff their chests out when they felt his regard. He smirked.
"Remember, we approach quietly," he said, his voice just loud enough to be heard, but no louder. "Del shakka mal!"
The Jaffa echoed his war cry softly, like a prayer.
They managed to get farther than he'd anticipated they would before they were spotted. His ground troops were rested and the Ori's had been marching and fighting all night. Teal'c saw not only surprise, but also despair flash in their eyes when he and his Jaffa warriors charged out of the alley beside a bank.
Their numbers were still so large that Teal'c barely had to aim in order to hit a target. They obviously hadn't been expecting the attack, so their flanks were poorly protected. Teal'c ran forward, firing shot after shot from his staff weapon, his world narrowing into the rhythm of the blasts, his senses sharpening at the edges as he descended into a familiar calm panic could not touch.
Behind him, he heard Jaffa fall into formation, their confident hands quickly assembling staff canons. Their timing was perfect and no sooner had Teal'c's force managed to punch into the throng before him, the canons were firing. He raised his hand and gave the signal. He heard squad commanders passing on the order.
Seamlessly, the Jaffa warriors split into three waves. The first third fired into the first half of the Ori soldiers, pushing them back and keeping them there under heavy fire. The second third fired into the second half, hurrying them forward. Teal'c led the rest of the Jaffa through the path the first two had cleared, cutting through the mass of Ori soldiers like an arrow.
Teal'c saw a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye. He paused only for a split-second, swiveling on his toes and planting them firmly as he aimed and fired. The Ori soldier managed a shot, but like his fellows, it was sloppy and hit a shop sign high over Teal'c shoulder. Teal'c's staff blast caught him square in the chest and he was pushed momentarily off his feet before crumbling to the ground.
Teal'c didn't pause, but fired off three more shots into the Ori soldiers as he ran.
The sky lit up as a bright flash of lightning streaked down from the heavens, illuminating a single figure floating mid-air, surrounded by a halo of golden hair and a bright red cloak.
"What the fuck are those?"
Rhodey paused in mid-flight to stare at the new flyers approaching the battlefield from the awkward-looking triangular spaceship that he was absolutely not going to call a pyramid. Because flying pyramids were the sort of things you talked about just before they carted you off to a nice padded cell. The flyers were small and compact, their wings as wide as the cockpit. More than any plane he'd ever seen, these looked like giant metallic birds gliding across the sky.
He activated his comm. "Ground Command, this is War–I mean Iron Patriot. I've got unidentified incoming flyers."
There was a long pause. "This is Ground Command. Copy that Iron Patriot. Are the flyers coming from the, er, flying pyramid?"
Rhodey smirked. "Affirmative, Ground Command, they're coming out of the, uh, alien spaceship. It is alien, right? I didn't picture the geeks at Area 51 having this sort of demented sense of humour..."
A new voice came onto the line. "Colonel Pallin of the SGC here. That would be an affirmative, the flying pyramid's alien alright. The Jaffa are allies, though, so no shooting at the death gliders, Iron Patriot."
"Thanks for that, Colonel. Death gliders, huh? That actually sounds surprisingly badass coming from a flying pyramid, even if this all feels like a bad 80s science fiction movie."
Colonel Pallin laughed. "Well if it makes you feel better, you can call it a ha'tak. That's what they're actually called."
"Hatak? Yeah, that sounds way less like crazy-talk, thanks Colonel."
As he watched, the giant black birds fanned out into a grid formation and then dove sharply towards the ground, pulling up just above the buildings and skimming above them as they fired down at the Ori soldiers on the ground. Rhodey whistled appreciatively. The Ori flyers had looked far more impressive tech-wise, but the death gliders' tight handling and easy maneuvering made him want to test fly one himself.
Plasma blasts shot up from the ground, but the death gliders continued steadily with their assault. One blast clipped a glider, causing it to swerve to the right and push its wing directly into a giant billboard advertising the newest Starkphone.
"Iron Patriot, this is Ground Command. Please respond."
"I'm still here, Ground Command. What's up, sir?"
"We've had confirmation from the Daedalus. Seems Thor's back with a few friends. The Jaffa, led by a Commander Teal'c, are cutting through the Ori to rendezvous with them. The Daedalus is re-directing their S&R teams into the area to search for civilians. I'd like you to proceed to their location and provide aerial support. Teal'c is apparently somewhat familiar with Manitou Springs, or at least Earth cities, so don't worry about the Jaffa. Your number one priority is keeping the Ori away from any trapped civilians. Co-ordinate with the Daedalus teams, they're handling the actual extractions."
"Understood, sir." He glanced at his HUD as he fired his repulsors. "My ETA is 4.3 minutes."
"Copy that. Ground Command out."
Since his first encounter with Ori flyers at Area 51, Rhodey had gotten used to weaving his way around the movements of space fighters, making it almost second nature to him now. He cut through the F-302s, death gliders, and stray stave blasts, while keeping half an eye on the battle below.
A firefight by a fairly large stone church caught his attention. There were stave blasts coming from the upper story, pinning down several squadrons of US troops and halting their forward progress. By the time he'd taken it in, Rhodey was well past the church, so he looped over and twisted in mid-air to change directions, focusing his scanners at the building as he flew back towards it. He felt familiar whirling vibrations as his shoulder missiles primed. He aimed at the church's top story windows, but paused their launch when he glimpsed the building scans on the HUD.
There was a cluster of heat signatures at the back of the church, so close together it was difficult for his suit's scanner to give an actual number. While it was possible that a large group of soldiers had hidden inside the church to get some rest, he doubted they were all soldiers. Many people still thought of churches as sanctuaries, after all. And it was a large stone building, much sturdier than the wooden houses surrounding it.
He cursed and retracted his shoulder missile launchers, coming to a hovering stop just above the church. The Ori soldiers were focusing on the ground troops and didn't look up. He aimed his repulsors at the soldiers in the windows. From the ground, the shots required to take them out would've been complicated, but Rhodey had a clear, unobstructed view. He fired his repulsors several times in rapid succession. Chunks of stone flew away from the windows and glass shattered as wooden frames splintered. The Ori soldiers screamed, their blood splattering across the window sills.
Rhodey hit his comm. "Ground Command, this is Iron Patriot. Come in, Ground Command."
"Ground Command here. Go ahead, Iron Patriot."
"I have a situation here. Ori soldiers infiltrated a church, pinning our troops down with cover fire. I've taken out the shooters and there doesn't seem to be any more movement around the windows, but I'm getting a large number of heat signatures from inside. Unknown whether hostile or civilian."
"Copy that, Iron Patriot. Standby."
"Copy that, Ground Command."
Rhodey waited for a few moments, acknowledging the ground troops' waves of thanks with a small wave of his own.
"Iron Patriot, the Daedalus has your current co-ordinates and is sending in a recovery team."
"Copy that, Ground Command. Am continuing on to my rendezvous with Thor and the Jaffa troops. Iron Patriot out."
Thor was difficult to miss, hovering above the battlefield and deftly deflecting stave blasts with both his hammer and his cloak (making Rhodey wonder what the hell that thing was made of). He really did look like a god. Down below, four other Asgardian warriors were swinging swords and deflecting stave blasts. It should've by all rights looked ridiculous, but somehow it only made the Asgardians look all the more awe-inspiring. There was a power in their movements, a strength to each of their blows, and in the way they didn't even flinch in the face of what should've been superior weaponry. As though the plasma weapons simply didn't impress them in the slightest.
"Hey, Thor, I see you're back," Rhodey called out as soon as he got within talking distance. "And you brought friends."
Thor turned to him. "Machine of War!" he exclaimed with delight. His hair was wind-swept and his face covered in dirt and sweat, with a rapidly darkening bruise along his lower right jaw, but somehow he was still radiant. "My father denied my request for aid, however my shieldbrothers and sister refused to allow me to return alone to do battle with these enemies of Midgard."
"Well, we're sure glad for the help." He couldn't help the way his eyes moved to take in the... ha'tak, looking even odder from up close – though the scorch marks and gauges in its sides were also more visible. No matter how ridiculous-looking, this ship had clearly been in a battle recently.
Thor chuckled knowingly. "It is quite impressive up close, is it not?"
Rhodey shook his head. "Yeah, I should've guessed you'd be totally cool with something this weird."
Thor laughed as he casually deflected a stave blast with his hammer. "They are allies of Midgard, so why should I be concerned by their presence?"
"Okay, fine, point there. Anyway, the ship belongs to the Jaffa and they've got a contingent of warriors/soldiers/whatever cutting through the Ori and heading this way, under the command of a guy named Tilk, or something like it."
Thor nodded solemnly. "Aye, I have taken note of their progress. They appear to be skillful warriors indeed. I look forward to fighting by their side."
"Right. Well, I've got my orders to scan for civilians."
Thor nodded in acknowledgment and then raised his hammer. The air around them crackled. Rhodey took that as his cue to get himself and his highly-conductive metal armour out of the immediate area. He flew to where the Jaffa troops were clashing with the Ori.
The Jaffa were making good time with their quick assault and, from what he could see, it was only partially due to being fresh to the battlefield. It gave them an edge over the tired Ori soldiers, but the skill was clearly also there. They wore metal armour, but it wasn't quite as shiny as the Ori's had been and there were no decorative cloaks. The weapons they were carrying were shaped like staffs and shot what looked like small fireballs. Yeah, those were cool.
Their leader was relatively easy to spot. He was, quite literally, leading their charge. He was a large dark-skinned man who wielded his staff weapon with an ease that shouldn't have been possible with such a large, bulky weapon. His movements were fluid and confident – this obviously wasn't his first battle. Or even his forth.
And then the man looked up and saw War Machine. Rhodey was anticipating a lot of different reactions, but all the large man did was frown, before barking something at the men beside him. The men closed ranks, allowing him to pull back and duck out of the front line. He stepped off to the side, taking cover in the doorway of a Starbucks that was only recognizable by half a torn green canopy and a few scattered paper cups. Taking that as an invitation, Rhodey flew over and landed next to the man.
The alien glanced over briefly when Rhodey landed before firing at an Ori soldier. Rhodey raised his left palm and took out the one standing next to his target.
"So, uh, I'm Colonel Rhodes of the USAF," he began, not really sure how someone went about introducing themselves to an alien commander.
"It would seem O'Neill was right," the Jaffa leader said.
Rhodey blinked at the non-sequitur. "O'Neill? As in General O'Neill?"
"Indeed."
"Uh, and what was he right about exactly?"
The other man looked back over to him, his face showing obvious disgust. "The new 'paint job', as you would call it, is hideous."
Rhodey just stared at him for a few moments, before snorting. "Yeah, no one seems to like it. Me included. So, anyway, as I said I'm Colonel Rhodes, also known as, uh, War Machine."
"And I am Teal'c of Chulak. You are here to provide aerial assistance?"
"Uh, yeah, and to scan the buildings for civilians. The Daedalus is evacuating them somehow."
Teal'c of Chulak nodded. "No doubt they are using Asgard transporter beams to move them to a safer location."
Rhodey was really glad he'd kept his faceplate down, because goggling at the alien commander wouldn't have made the best first impression. Transporter tech. Right, sure, why not?
He shook his head. "Anyway, I'll be in air and scanning buildings. If you have radio, I'm on channel three."
The other man nodded and then shifted his grip on his staff weapon so he could fiddle with the US military-issue radio he had attached to his left shoulder plate. "Then I shall also be on channel three."
Rhodey decided not to comment on that and just saluted before taking off into the air. Below him, he saw Teal'c return once more to his place at the front.
Colonel Greyson stopped in front of a classroom and looked out the window. Dusk was falling once again. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. The three hours he'd managed to pull together hadn't been nearly enough sleep to ward off exhaustion, only enough to ensure he didn't collapse at his post.
Steeling himself, he continued on towards the Command Centre, anxious to see what had changed in his absence.
The room was still a hive of activity. Major Schwartzentruber, his Second-in-Command was standing beside Colonel Pallin and talking to someone over the comm. Greyson strode over.
"...Copy that, Iron Patriot," Schwartzentruber was saying. "I'll inform the Colonel when he returns. Ground Command out."
"Major, I'm taking back command," said Greyson as soon as the other man keyed off the radio.
"Yes, sir," said his Second-in-Command with a salute. "Command is yours, Colonel."
He took back the communicator from the Daedalus and slipped it over his ear. "Report, Major. Start with that last one from Iron Patriot."
"Yes, sir. Iron Patriot reports that the Jaffa and Asgardian troops have managed to push the Ori back out of the southeastern part of the city and the area has been cleared of civilians except for those hiding inside Manitou Springs High School. He reports that according to Commander Teal'c, his men have expanded the shield of one of their, er larger flyers, to provide protection for the school in case the Ori redirect their troops to that part of town. Additionally, Colonel Rhodes reported he was running on empty and is therefore retiring from the field to recharge."
Greyson nodded. He wasn't happy about the Asgardian and Jaffa troops barging into the battlefield the way they had. Though he was glad for the help, neither one of the groups fell into the chain of command and his lack of control over them was a thorn in his side no matter how much Pallin assured him that Teal'c was familiar with US military procedures and protocols. Wildcards were the last thing he wanted on a battlefield even if they were proving themselves to be assets.
"And the rest of the battle?"
"Sir, Major Gates of the 4th Infantry Division reports that–"
"WAHOO!"
"YES!"
"Holy shit, we did it!"
The sudden exclamations and whoops of joy made all three military officers jump. As one they turned to the Science Corner, where the scientists were up and out of their seats, slapping each other on the back, and grinning, laughing and cheering loudly.
"I'm going to take that as a sign that things are looking up," Greyson heard Pallin said under his breath.
Greyson nodded, frowning at the scientists for their unprofessional behavior.
The scientists, who'd up 'till now been so quiet – well, mostly quiet – and focused that he'd barely known they were there outside the odd argument (Captain Hailey especially had seemed inclined to argue loudly with whomever it was they were conferencing with). Now the perpetual frowns and tired eyes had transformed into joy. Even Hailey looked elated.
She was also the first to remember herself. "Alright people, this is no time for celebration!" she barked, the smile not completely gone from her face, but enough to make her look stern. "We still have to build this thing. Siler!"
An air force sergeant with glasses slid up behind her. "Yes, ma'am."
She looked over her shoulder and then stepped to the side to make room for him. "This is what we need built. Can you do it?"
The Sergeant frowned thoughtfully and leaned in closer. Greyson couldn't help feeling like the entire room was holding its breath as they waited for his verdict. Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself walking over to find out what was going on.
Just as he'd reached the table, Sergeant Siler nodded and stepped back. "Yes, ma'am, I think that between what we brought from Area 51 and what's in the school shop classroom, I can build this."
"The shop classroom?" a middle-aged balding man asked in confusion. "You think the shop classroom's got anything useful in it?"
Siler shrugged. "The shop teacher collects oddball, esoteric gadgets to tinker with and amuse the kids."
Captain Hailey looked skeptical. "How exactly do you know that?"
"I've been dating her for five years now. I built her the electromagnet myself for our one year anniversary."
Even Colonel Greyson couldn't help the way his jaw dropped.
Captain Hailey blinked once and then grinned. "Siler, when this is over I want to meet the woman who's crazy enough to date you."
"Forget that, I wanna meet the woman who thinks getting an electromagnet as an anniversary gift is a reason to stick around!" exclaimed Lieutenant Miles. The rest of the scientists laughed.
Greyson wondered if scientists were always so easily derailed. He cleared his throat. "Captain, report."
The scientists turned to him, looking surprised, as though they'd forgotten he was here. Hailey straightened. "Sorry, Colonel," she said. "We seem to have finally made a breakthrough."
"Yes, I gathered as much," he said dryly. "What sort of breakthrough, Captain?"
Hailey smirked. "We've figured out how to disable the Ori stave weapons or, more precisely, keep them from firing, sir."
He blinked. Okay, he acknowledged the unprofessional behavior was possibly justified. Not that he'd tell them that.