Snowfur--Daniel plays an increasingly important role as the story progresses. Shepherd pops up here and there.
Darth Tic Tac--You'll have to keep reading into Part IV. The Vulcans are pretty important, as are some other familiar ST races. Remember, though, this is 2006. No Spock. I try to keep everything within cannon as much as I can.
I hope you both continue to enjoy.
Chapter Fifty-One: Worth Fighting For
Copernicus Ship Yards, South of the Mare Imbrium, Moon, Tuesday, September 5, 2006 (4 CE), 8:23 p.m. Universal Time (1:23 p.m. MST)
In early January of 2002, Jackson Roykirk launched his NOMAD probe into deep space. America's space program was declining as its fleet of shuttles continued to age. The International Space Station continued its mission of growth, but at a much slower rate than originally envisioned. China had launched several unmanned modules into space in an effort to become only the third nation to launch a man into space.
Of course, unbeknownst to most nations, the United States had already launched the X-301 Interceptor into space as early as 2000, but that was with the benefit of stolen Goa'uld technology. To the nations of Earth reaching for the stars on their own, 2002 seemed so far away from breaking beyond the bounds of the Earth.
Then the Jedi came, followed closely by the Imperial Star Destroyer Dragon's Claw, a fleet of Goa'uld ha'taks and a thousand Antaran colony ships.
Only four years later, despite the global economic chaos caused by the complete destruction of the Indian subcontinent at the hands of Darth Krayt and the Dragon's Claw, Earth had finally broken beyond the bounds of its atmosphere.
The Copernicus Shipyards were a perfect example of that.
Using the fleet of transport shuttles from the Dragon's Claw and the mining and mineral processing capabilities built into the Paelleon-class star destroyer, plus the massive ring of debris that orbited the Earth from the destroyed fleets as a source of recyclable material, the entire 6,800 square kilometers of Crater Copernicus, just south of the Mare Imbrium on the moon, was converted to a shipyard unmatched in Earth's history. At the center of the shipyard rested the still living hulk of the Dragon's Claw, now completely enclosed in a dome.
However, the object that took up the center of the twelve-kilometer wide, one kilometer-high dome at the center of the shipyards would not have been recognizable to anyone except the Kuati engineers who built her. Whole sections of the massive ship had been stripped away to the bare girders of the hull, and sometimes even those were removed. Power systems, weapons emplacements, living areas—all were sacrificed in Earth's quest to understand technology that by any appropriate measure should have been thousands of years beyond them.
But any appropriate measure could not have anticipated several thousand accomplished Imperial engineers who were so happy to be alive following the ship's encounter with the Antaran fleet that they proved more than willing to help Earth engineers learn how things worked in a galaxy far, far away. In many cases, the best minds of Earth were forced to forget everything they knew and relearn their trade as complete beginners.
The sheer scope of Earth's accomplishments was astounding. The contract to build the USS Ronald Reagan air craft carrier was awarded in December 1994. The keel was not laid until February of 1998, and the ship was not launched until March 2001. It was just over 330 meters in length.
In the four years following Doomsday, as the world scrambled to repair damage totaling almost 30 of the entire world's gross product while coping with the loss of a sixth of the world's population while also struggling to thin the debris cloud in orbit before more death rained down from the heavens, first the United Nations, and then the United Earth Commonwealth, commissioned, built and launched four hyper-space enabled command-carriers, the latter three of which had a length of over 993 meters and incorporated dedicated hypermatter reactors and superlaser cannons nearly as powerful as one of the component lasers of the Death Star itself while maintaining the more efficient, nequedah-fueld Goa'uld hyperdrive systems.
Moreover, as the Daedalus and Icarus re-entered lunar orbit for the first time in weeks, Kyle saw four more ships nearing completion in the yards. Every one of the ships was over a kilometer in length, bristling with even more turbolaser and laser cannons than the Daedalus, while retaining the central super laser.
"We're going to need those soon," Admiral O'Neill said.
Kyle nodded. "And more. I've already contacted Thor regarding Asgard assistance in building resonance torpedoes. The Empire never obtained the schematics for them and the Galactic Alliance felt there was no need to keep such a dangerous weapon around after the Ori were destroyed. But Thor assures me he has their scans of the torpedo he took during our first Ori war. The Asgard should be able to reproduce them en masse for us."
O'Neill nodded absently. "That's good."
Kyle followed the admiral's gaze, and understood his distraction.
Even from their orbit around the moon, they could see the blackened scar that was India. It stopped smoking only a year ago, although the impact points of the superlasers had all formed massive volcanoes that still occasionally belched out lava. Earthquakes also continued to rock southern Eurasia, but the frequency had diminished just in the past two years. "I'm authoring limited shore leave," O'Neill said as he continued to stare at Earth. "I need to get to Commonwealth to advise the Security Council."
"You need to go to Ruby Valley first," Kyle pointed out.
O'Neill smiled without looking at his friend. "Yeah, that too." He looked at Kyle. "And you?"
"I sense much has happened while we were gone. I'm going to go see my Jedi."
On an early Monday morning in early September, a Cadillac Escalade hydrogen cell hybrid drove up to the gates of the Ruby Valley Commonwealth Relocation Project in Nevada.
Two Commonwealth marines stood at stiff attention, their red berets brilliant in the morning light. The row of juniper trees that ran in a line along the inside of the security fence threw playful shadows across the red security kiosk and the men who guarded the gate. In the backseat of the Escalade, Hannah Volper sat up to stare at them, and the brilliant glass tower that rose from the center of the city-sized complex.
"Are you okay, honey?" Hannah's adopted mother, Rachel, asked from the front seat.
Hannah nodded as she sucked her lower lip and curled a strand of her coppery hair with her left index finger. The SUV stopped and one of the marines leaned over as Jim Volper rolled down his window. "Jim Volper," he said.
He ended up having to show a picture ID and two other forms of identification, and even then they were not allowed to enter until the marine stepped to the security kiosk and double-checked the information.
Finally, though, the gate lifted and they drove into…another world.
It was the only way to describe it. "Oh my God!" Rachel Volper cried as they drove past three people, one of whom was distinctly blue with red eyes. She looked at her husband. "What is this place?"
Hannah knew, of course, and smiled at the thought she saw an alien before her classmate back in school, Bart Kriker. She didn't say anything, though.
Finally, they arrived at a small parking lot at the foot of the massive tower. It was easily as high as anything in Denver, and glistened in the morning light. She was out of the SUV before her parents. The air felt surprising cool, crisp and dry—but with a promise of much more heat to come.
Standing on the sidewalk a few dozen feet away, Hannah saw what could only be described as a welcoming committee, including several small children, the oldest of which appeared to be four or five. She looked on the two adult twins, though, who were watching her so closely. One seemed almost…hungry? Desperate? She didn't quite have the words for it.
As she stepped close, though, she rethought the idea they were twins. She had known two sets of twins and watched several television shows on twins, and there were always slight differences in facial features or build. These women were so identical they appeared to be the same person, like an actress being separated by a split screen to play her own evil twin in a bad soap opera.
Without knowing how, Hannah Volper knew without any question that the one on her right was her birth mother. It was an instinctive recognition. Without waiting for her adopted parents, whom she loved and cherished as well, Hannah Volper walked across the street directly toward the woman.
The woman knelt down and covered her mouth with both hands as she quietly started to cry. Though she had none, if she had doubts about who her birth mother was, they would have disappeared by now. She stopped a foot away from her and said, "You're my birth mother."
Izzie Stevens nodded. "I am," she managed to say.
"You gave me away."
Izzie nodded again, but didn't trust herself to speak. Hannah looked up at the other Izzie. "You're not just twins, are you?"
Isabel Evans shook her head. "No, we're not just twins. And you're not just a beautiful young lady."
Hannah nodded without surprise. "I know." Nearby, Jim and Rachel Volper stood holding hands, looking on with heart-broken faces. Hannah looked back at them and smiled. "Can they still be my parents too?"
Isabel nodded. "Yes. You're not a prisoner here, Hannah. You never will be."
A man stepped to Isabel's side, holding a little girl in his arms. "Hello, Hannah," he said. "My name is Max Evans. I am your uncle. And this is one of your cousins, Claudia."
Claudia smiled at Hannah and then ducked shyly into Max's shoulder as two boys joined him. "This is your cousin Zan, and your cousin Kyle. They're all like you, Hannah. They are special."
Hannah turned to the last couple there, a handsome pair many years older than anyone there, who held a red-headed boy of perhaps six. "Is he a cousin too?"
"No, but he is special like you," Max explained. "This is Fox and Dana Mulder. Fox is the Assistant Director in charge of the entire western hemisphere of the planet for the Commonwealth Federal Bureau of Criminal Investigation. His wife is the chief forensics officer."
Behind her, she heard her adopted parents shuffle at the importance of those before them. Hannah, though, set her eyes back on her mother. "What is your name?" she asked.
"Izzie Stevens."
"What was my dad's name?" She seemed to know instinctively that her father would never join her.
"Rick Stevens."
"Were you married?"
Izzie shook her head.
Hannah nodded. "Have you been here long?"
"No. Our family just found me too. I was lost, a little. But they found me. Just like they found you."
She nodded, and for the very first time, Hannah Volper smiled at her mother. "It's good we're here," she said softly, as if sharing an important secret. "It feels right." She walked back to her parents and gave each of them a big hug. "I'm going to stay," she said with much more maturity than most twelve-year-olds had. "This is where I belong. But I'll come visit, and I'll write to you and send you email and letters. I promise we'll keep in touch."
As Hannah said good-bye to her family, Max felt his pencom vibrate and pulled it from his pocket. "This is Evans."
"Good morning, Padawan," Kyle Katarn's voice said. "We're leaving orbit now. I should be in the compound in two hours. I sensed a little of what happened. How are Siana, Tess and Michael?"
"They just got decanted from their bacta tanks this morning. And master, we have some new additions."
"I look forward to meeting them. I just downloaded the report on Colonel Green. I was very impressed. Please call a meeting, and make sure to invite Delvin Ostrael. I believe we should have some words as well."
"I will, Master. Welcome back."
"Thank you."
By the time the call ended, a tearful Jim and Rachel Volper had climbed back into their SUV and were driving away, while Hannah stood by her mother and her mother's clone, waiting.
"Master Katarn is on his way," Max said. "I think we should all meet."
Isabel met her brother's eyes. "Everyone?"
He looked at Izzie and her daughter. "Everyone."
Two hours later, Dr. Samantha Carter O'Neill looked up from her desk as her husband walked into the office. "Hi, honey, I'm home," Jack said.
Her grin lit up the room as she stood, walked around the desk, and then wrapped him in a hug and gave him a long, lingering kiss right in front of her secretary. After four years, it still gave her a thrill that she could hug and kiss Jack O'Neill without fear of reprisal.
"I should come home more often," he said.
"You really should."
"Got problems, though. Any idea when the new ships will be on line?"
"We've scheduled their first shakedown cruises next month."
"Speed it up," O'Neill said, all humor gone. "We lost the Icarus."
Sam nodded. "I just read the report. The Ori broke through."
"It's just a matter of time before they create a new supergate. We're going to be facing some serious problems soon."
The two walked back to Sam's desk and the windows looking over the dry Nevada desert. "Thor contacted me and advised me of Kyle's request. He said they will have a shipment of two hundred resonance torpedoes ready within the week and more after that. He said they have actually given weapons production a priority due to the Ori threat. He mentioned that the fact that the torpedoes appear to be effective against replicators is an added bonus."
"That's good," O'Neill said, absently.
"Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"What's wrong?"
He turned and stared down at her, amazed as always at the second chance at life she had given him. The last four years had been a miracle to him. She was a miracle to him.
He just hoped the miracle would last. "They're going to attack Earth," he said.
"How do you know?"
"We're their greatest strategic threat," he said. "It's what I would do."
"Then we'll just have to save the day, like we always do."
He shrugged and thought of India. "But we don't always save the day, do we?"
"No, but we give it a damned good try."
