A/Ramble: Everyone say "Thank you, Adi." Come on, say it with me now, "Thank you Adi for telling me that Amanda Tapping is coming to Oz Comic Con in 2013 and pulling Grimm out from under her rock and getting the last few chapters of MYOTOS out." Don't we all feel so much better now? I DO! ENJOY!
*I promoted General Anderson from Brigadier to Major General because, upon doing some research on NORAD, I've found that I've under-ranked the commanders. OOPS! So his 2IC is now a Brigadier too.
** I'm now on LiveJournal! Link on my profile page. Add me or visit my page. You never know what you'll find.
~ 38 ~
0349h
14th February 1998
Anderson Residence, Colorado Springs
The intrusiveת loud shrill of the phone bounced along the walls and hit the sleeping General's ears hard enough to violently jolt him to the waking world. This effect was lost on his wife who, although now awake, simply rolled over, muttering something very unladylike into her pillow.
Scott rubbed his still heavy-lidded eyes and blinked a few times at the digital clock beside his bed. The phone continued to ring, promptly a very hard kick in his thigh from his beloved. He fumbled a hand across the bedside table until it came to the wretched device that sat so benignly in its cradle.
He cleared his throat as he picked up the phone, so his grumpy bark could be well understood.
"Anderson."
"Sir, I'm sorry to call at this hour, but we've spotted something on the long range sensors that you need to see."
Anderson sighed heavily and ruffled his spiky, short hair. "Alright; I'll be there as soon as I can."
He ended the call with the click of a button and tossed the phone towards the end of the bed. Ready to issue the standard apology to his wife, he patted her hip and sighed again. Kathryn was familiar with this routine, so she was able to answer him before he even opened his mouth.
"I'll see you in the morning. Hopefully it's nothing."
Scott closed his eyes and nodded. "Better be something. I hate getting woken up for 'nothing'."
~ SJ ~
0413h
Sublevel 2, NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain
It was utter chaos in the confined corridors of the underground Command and Control Centre. Personnel were speeding through the halls, far more than the number assigned to the night shift. Brigadier General Lawson was making a rapid beeline through the scurrying masses towards him in a plaid blue shirt and jeans and- were those moccasins?
"Sorry for the wake up call Sir, and we'll need to walk and talk..." he ushered his CO through towards the main observation room down the hall, "...RADAR picked up an anomaly behind Jupiter-"
"Jupiter?" Anderson pushed an airman out of the way, throwing a brief wave of acknowledgment to the younger man's rushed apology.
"It was very brief, Sir. After that we switched to telemetry to get a visual on it. Obviously there is a delay, so what we're seeing isn't in real time." Lawson swiped his access card through the reader beside the door and pushed the door open. The room was packed and all eyes were jumping between computer monitors and the huge screen that took up the opposite wall.
The same four images played over and over; the slightly blurred curve of the lower left side of Jupiter taking up most of the screen, casting an orange glow over the room. The image had been clearly adjusted to show some kind of purple circle. It looked like a flaming flower .. or a vortex.
"When did we get this image?"
"Three forty-two, Sir. However, the lag can be anywhere up to fifty-two minutes. We're expecting Jupiter to pass the anomaly by - hopefully - four twenty-eight. Then we'll have a small window, maybe about five or six minutes, before Ganymede passes. Hopefully it won't get in the way."
Anderson stood in the middle of the room, slowly becoming entranced by the unusual image.
"Get General O'Neill and Doctor Carter on the phone. Now."
~ SJ ~
0534h
Control Room, SGA
"Does this look familiar to you, Kawalsky?" Jack leaned on the back of Sam's chair while they waited for Charlie to make an analysis of the image given to them by NORAD an hour ago.
Once Jupiter had passed, the purple anomaly was replaced by a small battalion of gold and charcoal grey spacecrafts. Kawalsky had mentioned something similar in his mission report from Abydos.
The intense glint in Charlie's eyes and barely-heard sigh gave away his reply, but Jack needed to hear the words anyway.
"Yes, Sir. They were the ones that came to Abydos. They tried to land on the pyramid." Charlie folded his arms and leaned in towards the screen, "Sir, I'm not sure I was clear about how big these things are; the part of these ships that looks like a pyramid is big enough to completely cover one of ours... and if there are a..." he took a moment to count the ships in the photo, "almost a dozen heading towards Earth..."
"Be glad you're on Beta, Charlie. I need to inform the president and we'll call you back in about an hour."
"Yes, Sir," Kawalsky nodded curtly and the screen went blank.
Jack stood up and turned, only to meet George's chest.
"Inform NORAD we're going to DEFCON three."
George nodded quickly, and crossed the room to the nearest phone. Jack turned back to Sam, who'd been frowning at the image, but lifted her eyes to his. Time slowed to a perceivable crawl and Jack wondered if she was reading his mind. He was certainly reading hers.
"I'm gonna have to call on the NMCC. We may need to exercise 'Genesis'," he warned in a lowered voice.
"I know. I'm still going through with the last group."
A tense silence hung between them until Jack took a deep breath and pinned her with a dark glare.
"It won't come to that."
~ SJ ~
0856h
Jack clambered down the staircase from the briefing room at an alarming pace, almost tripping on two steps as he buttoned up his camouflage shirt. A cramp was building in his right thigh from the strain of twisting just above his stump. It was a task to keep ducking and dodging the sea of technicians who were trying to keep a continuous connection to either the Alpha or Beta site, manage the overused mainframe and organise the endless streams of data coming in from dozens of different bases from all across the country.
George met him in the equally busy corridor outside the Control Room, and they began a brisk walk towards the door that led to the stairs.
"He's arrived?"
"The truck and escorts pulled up about five minutes ago. They're taking him to Observation Room One."
"Hopefully he'll give us some answers this time." As it turned out, many personnel shared their CO's concerns about using the elevators. The stairways were in great use today.
"He hasn't said anything since he arrived at fifty-one," George pointed out, pushing the door open to level 16. Jack stopped abruptly and turned to him, effectively blocking the doorway.
"But we weren't allowed to kill him then."
His slightly shocked Colonel stared at him, but Jack was pressed for time and continued down the hall to the heavily guarded room that held their alien prisoner. He knew George would be right behind him, but deep down, he really didn't want his old friend to see him carry out the threat. The JCS had given Jack permission to use 'whatever means necessary' to get all pertinent information from the Jaffa. Although it hadn't been officially stated, Jack understood the words 'torture' and 'execution' could be read between the lines.
Should they survive this and he get put up for whatever crimes he would commit upon this 'man', it would be worth it. No, not 'worth'. It would be justifiable.
"Lieutenant, your sidearm," Jack held out his hand, waiting with little patience for the officer to relieve himself of his weapon. The younger man hesitated for a moment, but quickly pulled the pistol from his holster and opened the breach for an inspection. It was clear and the safety was on, so he handed it to his Commanding Officer. He didn't want to know any more than that.
"Thank you." Jack unloaded the magazine as George arrived at his side. "I don't expect you to be present, Colonel." He took an extra moment checking the magazine, counting the ammunition.
"I feel I should advise you of my objection to this plan, Sir."
Jack actually had to force himself to meet the man's eyes. Surely George would understand. He didn't want to do this. There would be no pleasure taken in the act. But the needs of the many...
"I know."
Nevertheless, George swiped his card and pushed down on the door handle. "If it must be done."
They closed the door behind them after ushering the assigned guards out. Lo'Rak sat in a sturdy steel chair, his wrists and ankles handcuffed to the unyielding frame. He looked gaunt in the face and leaner in his build. He no longer had an infant symbiote in his pouch, so he'd lived in a very sterile room and had received round the clock care to compensate for his almost nonexistent immune system. The last few hours without that were starting to show.
Jack made no attempt to hide the weapon in his hand.
"The large ships shaped like pyramids; tell us about their capabilities," Jack asked coolly, his eyes strangely calm, but very dark.
Lo'Rak's head rolled to the side and a drop of sweat fell from his right eyebrow, leaving a dark spot on his orange jumpsuit.
Jack pushed his emotions as far down as he could as he removed the safety, pointed the nine mil at the Jaffa's foot and pulled the trigger.
"Garrhh!" Lo'Rak growled, jumping in his chair until at least two legs left the ground. Jack saw George flinch, but when he heard no objection from his Second, he continued.
"How many people can one ship hold?"
Silence.
BANG!
The next shot went into the other foot. Lo'Rak grunted and moaned in pain, almost pushing his chair backwards, but gave them nothing. Jack was getting impatient. That small armada would reach Earth within the hour and who knows what kinds of Hell would be unleashed. Every second counted.
Jack gripped the Jaffa's shoulder and placed the muzzle of the gun on top of his knee, point straight down.
"You think Apophis is here to rescue you?" Jack growled, bringing his face to within a few inches of Lo'Rak's. "You tell us everything about those ships, and I'll make sure they bury you next to him."
Jack should have seen it coming.
Lo'Rak began to shake, his muscles tightening and his teeth bearing. He lifted his black eyes to Jack's and let out the most gut-wrenching roar from his dry, cracked lips. In truth, Jack didn't expect the handcuff to break, but pulled his head back out of instinct in the last moment to miss the Jaffa's powerful swing upwards. The edge of the handcuff did, however, cut straight through his left eye brow.
George must have anticipated it because Jack registered the hands firmly grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him away from the raging alien. Lo'Rak's chair fell sideways and though his wrists were bleeding, he was beginning to pull at the other cuffed wrist to release it. A steady stream of blood trickled down over Jack's eyelid, pooling briefly on the lashes before spilling into his eye.
Lo'Rak continued to yell foreign profanities at them, but when he made a move towards them - specifically George - Jack lifted the pistol, trained it on the Jaffa's head and squeezed the trigger.
~ SJ ~
0941h
He was waiting to wake up; this was all happening to fast to be real. Last night he was eating a lovely dinner with Sam before curling up on the sofa to watch an old black and white movie. Twelve hours later and the Armageddon was thrust upon them with truly mind-numbing force. Where would they be tonight? A mish-mash of floating debris through space? A pile of unrecognisable, charred bone scattered on the street as wounded, misplaced civilians ran over them, slowly grinding them into the Earth? It was too grim a future to consider.
"Sir!" one of his technicians touched the earpiece on his headset and turned in his chair, "Reports coming through that the crafts have slowed and are establishing an orbit. The data from NASA and radio feed from Arecibo will be coming through any time now."
"Get it down to Doctor Carter as soon as possible," Jack ordered quickly, turning away to start up the stairs. "Colonel!"
George, who'd been understandably enthralled by the video feed of alien ships descending upon the Earth, sprang into sudden motion and followed Jack up to the conference room. Sam. He had seen her in passing since they arrived, but only a few minutes each time. There was, unfortunately, no time to feel disappointed about it.
~ SJ ~
The heavy footfalls in the corridor and the spicy scent that touched his nose once the main doors slid open, heralded Klorel's arrival to the bridge. Teal'c turned from his place at the central control station and tipped his head as far as it could go with the thick metal collar of his armour digging into his chin. His brow furrowed slightly when the gold cape and encrusted shoes glided across the floor towards the throne that oversaw the bridge. It couldn't be... He'd seen those robes countless times before, but not few a few years now.
Teal'c swallowed the knot in his throat. "The fleet is in position and ready to fire on your command, my Lord."
"No."
Teal'c lifted his head, letting his eyes ask the question that his lips refused. His inquiring gaze faltered as he took in his master's appearance. Klorel's garb was strikingly similar to that his father once wore.
"I want the weapon they used to defeat my father. We will wait." Klorel turned his head a little to the side, hiding his smirk in a faint shadow. "I want them to feel the weight of terror before I destroy them."
Where was the prince that had destroyed three rooms and killed fourteen Jaffa upon hearing of his father's death? The fledgling god that swore revenge, promising to administer it so quickly and brutally that there would be little time for his enemies to breath. He'd risen into his title of Warlord with more sinister intent than Teal'c, or anyone, could have predicted.
~ SJ ~
1104h
"You better tell me they've turned tail and are heading back to wherever they came from, Colonel," Jack grumbled, flicking his wrist as the strain of filling out the necessary paperwork for enacting emergency procedures began to overcome his ability to write. In fairness, there wasn't that much writing. He'd probably do more ordering stocks for the Mess. However, he'd only given himself, at most, five minutes to do it all.
"I wish I could, Sir."
"They're still holding steady?" Jack finally looked up, still scribbling his signature at the bottom of the green typeset form. George referred to the small notebook he'd been restlessly fiddling with while waiting for his CO's direct attention.
"Yes, Sir. We've gotten the official count at nine ships; the initial reports had them holding an altitude of just over eleven thousand miles, but the latest intel has them drifting higher..."
"Most of our communication and global positioning satellites sit at about twelve and a half thousand," Jack rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye.
George nodded slowly, "One of their satellites is due to collide-" George threw out a hand, revealing his watch, "in about eight minutes."
Jack tossed his pen on his desk, uncapped, and rounded his desk. "Well that'll please congress; they've been talking about upgrading to the Next Gen Op Control System. But, hopefully, it'll crash and it won't be taken as a hostile act. Better losing some of our comms than provoke the aliens."
George dutifully followed him through the still-bustling conference room, which was quickly becoming the 'War Room'. He'd have to move them somewhere else. It's too crowded.
"Every major airline in the world uses GPS systems for air trafficking; how are we going to move people while flying blind?"
Jack knew to what George was referring. He'd had to make the hurried announcement of the existence of Genesis this morning. How else would he explain the influx of international delegates moving through the base and having priority travel to the Alpha and Beta Sites? By now, word would have spread throughout the SGA.
"All flights are being cancelled as we speak. Technically, the military will be the only birds flying. We can work without GPS with RADAR... Hell, we'll do it the old fashioned way and use a map. That's why we train navigators. How long till that collision?"
George checked the time again as they quickly moved down the iron stairway. "About three minutes."
Had Jack not been so consumed by the situation, he would have had to hold back a faint smile at the familiar sound of Sam and her high heels as she bound up the few stairs from the hallway outside the control room. She frowned at the cut and developing bruise along his brow, to which Jack waved his hand dismissively. Sam frowned for another moment, but took her seat beside Walter at one of the many computers.
"Word from NORAD is that it's getting a bit chaotic up there. China has declared Martial Law and apparently Russia and some of the Middle Eastern countries won't be far behind."
Jack knew about China, but the other countries were new to him.
"I'm surprised it hasn't been declared here already; at least we'll control all the airspace. How many teams do we still have out?"
Sam span in her chair and counted off with her fingers, "SG teams one, four, six and seven. Seven is due back today, four and six tomorrow afternoon and one isn't due back until the twentieth."
"I appreciate the optimism," Jack sighed impatiently, his voice clearly reflecting his own pessimism. They'd be lucky to see tomorrow.
Walter, who'd been watching the real-time images being fed from NASA, through NORAD, on his computer, lifted a hand in the air. "Sir, the satellite's been identified," He looked over his shoulder, the concern on his face clear, "It's a NAVSTAR."
"Great. One of ours." Jack muttered, wiping his hand down his face and covering his mouth for a moment.
"Impact in... 15 seconds."
The room became still and a dozen pairs of worried eyes locked onto the single computer monitor. The tension thickened and silence grew until Jack could hear himself breathing though his nose. Everyone else was holding their breath, or slowing them till they were deep and bordering self-asphyxia.
"Ten-" Walter began, but stopped when the satellite exploded quite a distance away from the ship's hull. "We've lost the signal. Impact was measured at nearly four hundred metres from point of contact."
"They haven't fired back." Jack observed and the room filled with a sound of relieved exhalations. Strings of data popped up on the adjacent computers in green letters and Sam, along with everyone in her immediate proximity leaned in to inspect the new information.
"The ship must have a shield..." she tore her eyes from the screen and leaned sideways to Walter's. "Did we record that collision?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Rewind and play the collision over at half speed."
Walter complied, quickly typing at his keyboard; he grunted and shook his head when his frantic actions produced several mistakes.
The video replayed very slowly, reminding Jack of a day he watched a golf tournament on TV and they played some of the shots in slow motion. Talk about death by boredom.
"There." Sam tapped her hand on the desk between their keyboards. "Go back about two seconds... now frame by frame."
Although Jack had missed it the first time, when they found the correct frame, he could clearly see the shimmer of a curve- almost a bubble, encasing the ship.
Shields. No wonder they didn't fire on the satellite.
~ SJ ~
0549h
15th February, 1998
"What's it looking like up there, Sir? We've gotten a lot of reports down from NORAD relating to the Springs, but..." Jack rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. They'd made it past the twenty-four hour mark and while the ships were yet to fire a shot, they also weren't responding to any transmissions of any kind.
"Ugly. We're calling Martial Law at oh five hundred. Be glad you're underground, O'Neill." Major General Haywood, a higher liaison for the Joint Chiefs, had managed to find a few minutes to call Jack and update him personally, albeit for only a few minute while he had his first break since the first ship appeared twenty two hours ago.
"We're ready for the first group. I've already sent our CMO to Alpha to receive any casualties that come down. They can go through and she'll deal with them there. They're almost over-stocked on medical supplies."
"Good. Jack, you know, this could keep going for an indefinite period of time. Don't suppose you've considered long-term action?"
"I've thought about possibilities, Sir."
"What more can you do, than that, really? Look, if I was in your seat, and I really glad I'm not, you're gonna have a lot of really worried airmen that just want to go home and check on their families..."
At this, Jack closed his eyes, sinking deeply into his chair.
"...and you can only keep them focused on their work for so long. They'll burn out."
"I know, Sir. I've thought about that a lot more than SOPs for doomsday."
"Well, you've got your head screwed on right; I'll give you that. How many beds have you got on that base, Jack?"
"Including the infirmary...? About eighty, eighty-five."
"And you've got what... about one hundred and forty people running around down there?"
"Give or take. We'll be getting more when Genesis comes through."
"If I were you, and it's only a suggestion, but you may need to give them some incentive... and rotating shifts. Has anyone there had a break? Or slept?"
Jack certainly hadn't, but wasn't going to tell Haywood that. "We've needed everyone on base, but they've been relieving each other for short breaks and half-hour meal stops. Some have been refusing even that and we haven't got time to argue. But no, we haven't stopped all day."
"It might be better to roster their sleep rather than their work hours. Fourteen on, eight off."
A plan like that was potentially dangerous and if they survived, Jack would lose his job for such a blatant disregard of OHS policies.
"They're gonna need a pep talk," Jack concluded, stifling a yawn behind a closed fist.
"You know the drill. Do what you gotta do."
"Yes, Sir..."
"Alright, I've got to run. I'm sending Davis across as soon as we can get him a seat. He may be riding the tail on a Herc, but he's better off there. Good luck, Jack."
"You too, Sir. Thanks for the update."
Jack let the phone hover over the cradle, savouring the second of silence that graced his mind before the handset slipped and fell with a plastic CLUNK.
A pep talk. What could he say? He could destroy their morale and focus their energy by telling them that their families were most likely evacuated or dead. No, come on Jack, you can do better than that. Leadership 101. Give them a clear goal. Work long hours and don't get distracted. Yeah, that would go down well.
He ran the tip of his tongue along the sharp edge of his upper incisors. With more effort than he liked to admit, Jack pushed up from his chair and stretched his stiff back. A series of cracks sounded and clicked as he rolled his neck when he walked out of his office. Thank goodness the conference room was now void of bodies. His senior officers had been strongly advised to move to the old conference room and leave his damn office space. He'd been a bit more diplomatic in his delivery, but the message was clear.
On a single table that sat flush against the side of the briefing room wall sat the phone that connected to the switchboard and the base intercom. Jack sat on the edge of the desk, his fingers anxiously flexing and clenching above the phone before he grabbed it and pressed the button to connect him to the intercom. Above him, the grey speaker not unlike the many that could be found on every level of the SGA crackled.
Jack closed his eyes, took a breath and began, "Attention, all personnel, This General Jack O'Neill..." Another calming breath and he opened his eyes.
Sam.
She was at the top of the staircase, frozen with weary but wide eyes. He couldn't send her away. He wouldn't. He found his incentive. Sam slowly came around the table, a small stack of folders and papers clutch to her chest. She watched him as he began to speak, mirroring his posture directly opposite him on the briefing table.
"It's two in the morning; we've been at this for a full day. I wish I could tell you it's not going to last... but it will. I'll be seeing to a new roster that will require long hours that will push all of us to our limits. We're going to be tired; we're going to be worried about the safety of our loved ones on the surface." At this point, to be released from Sam's unwavering gaze would have been his undoing.
"By now, word will have gotten around about the Genesis Project. That is our priority. I can't say 'your country needs you'; it's more than just America. You have been burdened with the task to ensure the survival of our very race. I know it's a daunting thought. Nations all over the world trust us to do what we must... I only ask that you put your faith in the men and women trying to save lives on the surface. Trust them to get your friends and families to safety. Stay focused... and stay strong. That's all."
He understood the hypocrisy in telling an entire base not to worry for their loved ones when his was standing before him; he could keep Sam relatively safe here. It was that assurance that gave him the strength to say it.
~ SJ ~
NMCC - National Military Command Centre,
Aricebo - Massive RADAR telescope in Puerto Rico,
NAVSTAR - one of the GPS systems utilitsed by US defence,
SOPs - Standard Operating Procedures
To the best of my knowledge (I did a little research), all references and details regarding Jupiter, Satellite orbit altitudes, GPS systems, DEFCON levels, the Next Generation Operational Control System and Aricebo, are accurate. But I may be wrong.
Obligatory Grovelling: I'm really, really, REALLY late... And for this, I am very sorry. My muse is gone; I'm finding it hard to sit down and write. This chapter took a month to do. Again, thank Adi.