A/N: I have only two things to say about this chapter: butterflies flap while Chekhov loads his gun.

Chapter 28

Area 52

December 30th, 1947

General Sheridan listened to the President carefully. What he was being told was … disturbing. Apparently, over the last two years, evidence had come to light of extensive Soviet espionage networks within civil and government positions.

"Has anybody who knows about the program been implicated?" That was General Anthony Clarke, newly-appointed first Director of the NID.

"Thankfully, no. But this is a wake-up call. We have to look for more security breaches. I want the NID to liaise with the FBI on any and all matters of investigation into these activities. I want a recommendation for an official liaison officer as soon as possible."

"Captain Marcus." The words were quick to leave Clarke's mouth. "He has a background in Army Intelligence. And an exemplary record, including managing to dismantle a small cult developing within an Army base in '38, an incident which very nearly cost him his life. He's dedicated, loyal, and hard-working. If anybody can deal with Hoover, twist his arm, get full cooperation, it's him."

"Once we're done here, get Captain Marcus up to speed and make the arrangements." Truman said. "We need to discover as much as we can, and frankly I don't trust Hoover. Having an eye on him to keep him honest can't hurt."


Samuel sighed. "So now I get to play politics with the director of the fucking FBI. Can't say I'm overjoyed. But I'll do my best. If he knows anything, we need to know it."

Sheridan nodded. "I know. General Clarke was singing your praises, recommended you without hesitation. Even gave me some briefing on your exploits. Heard about that cult you dismantled. You were lucky to survive."

Samuel shrugged. "I have Don to thank for that. He was serving on the base at the time, pointed me in the right direction. And when shit hit the fan and things went up in flames, he showed up, dragged me out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We lost touch afterward, but it was interesting running into him here. And good to work with him again."

"He's a good officer. And a good leader. Truth be told, we're considering putting him up for promotion to captain. The program's getting a bit big for him at just a 1st Lt's rank for the level of seniority and the responsibility he has. He's been the immediate CO for these men since the beginning. They trust him a lot. Bringing in a captain from outside would risk destabilizing the units."

"He deserves it. I don't know if my name carries much weight, but add it to the recommendation."


Fort Roosevelt

January 15th, 1948

Newly-promoted Captain Hammond fingered the new rank insignia for probably the hundredth time that day. He still couldn't believe it, but he understood why they had done it. The program was growing larger, and needed higher ranking officers. As the man who had been there from the beginning, with the best rapport among the different units, he was the logical choice.

He gave a nod to Slade as he passed the other man. "Good luck out there." He said. Slade's team had been tapped to head the first mission to ES-55, one of the worlds Bra'tac had given them.

Slade nodded. "We'll see what we can find." He said.


Fort Roosevelt, ES-3

February 3rd, 1948

Primitives. That was what they had found so far on the worlds that Bra'tac had provided them. Nothing beneficial so far, but they had only explored three worlds at this point.

Don put the reports down and sighed. He had hoped they would find some way of contacting the Asgard from one of these worlds. Everyone had hoped that. They needed all the help they could get.

Standing up, he stretched for a moment before lighting up a cigarette. Exiting the office, he glanced over at the newest construction project, a large-scale natural gas extractor and refinery. They were gradually building up. Eventually, the plan was to begin constructing a power plant large enough to power a small town as they began colonization.

Colonization. Maybe one day he could have Molly and George moved here, once the settlement was started. Several of the others with families were thinking the same thing. It was a strange thought that this might one day become the safe haven for humanity if something happened to Earth.

That was the terrifying thought. They had confirmed that the Goa'uld had proper starships. Bra'tac had confirmed it, even broken down the ship types. The fighters came in both open-cockpit, or udajeet, varieties and the space-capable death gliders. They had cargo ships, the tel'tak, bombers, the al'kesh, troopships, and the Ha'tak, their mothership. And apparently there were ways to identify a planet's physical location from the gate symbols. This meant that, if the enemy got the symbols for a planet, they could come in ships instead of the gate. Which meant it was even more important to prevent the Goa'uld from learning the gate address for Earth. They had added a small directive where, in the event capture were to be inevitable, suicide was officially endorsed.

Don returned his thoughts to the present. Another exploratory expedition was planned for the next day. This one would be led by the English squads, with Norwell commanding. Hopefully, this time, they would find something useful.

The other main project at this point was getting diphtheria antitoxin to the Imperial City. From what Sanderson was saying, sourcing enough was proving problematic. But they were providing what they could, and apparently the Emperor was providing, as a "gesture of royal appreciation," large quantities of both weapons and the raw metal in excess of what had originally been on the negotiating table. Plans were being put together to train personnel in using things like swords, spears, and bows, pending development of a new variety of armor-piercing bullet made partially from the metal. Initial tests had shown weapons made from the metal to be capable of easily penetrating the Jaffa armor, tearing through it "like a knife through butter," so the sooner they could shoot bullets of the stuff, the better.

At that moment, Simmons came over to him with a smile. "Morning, sir." He said with a salute.

Don returned the salute with a nod. "Morning, Simmons. How's it going?"

"Good. We just got word from Earth. The South African squads should be arriving within the next day or so, and Alpha Squad's up for R&R once they get here, so we'll be back home for a bit."

Don nodded. Despite the Earthside base now having an "official" location several miles in almost exactly the opposite direction on the other side of Las Vegas as both a decoy and a place to house families, the SGI squads' true deployments, typically rotating every month or so through each base and then back to Earth for R&R, were still masked in secrecy, the official story to families being either "short-term training exercises" or "on-site temporary security detail" for an unspecified location. At least now he was able to see his family every three months instead of going nearly a year.

God, had they really agreed to go through the fucking gate that first time with only a few minutes' notice on the fact that they might never see home again? Had he really been the one to jump on that train in the name of keeping evil space aliens from having their way with Earth.

This led to the question of "would I do it all the same way all over again if I knew then what I knew now?" A long moment of thought led to the inevitable conclusion of "Damn right I would."

"Sir?" Simmons asked, and Don realized to his chagrin that he'd spoken the last part aloud. He shook his head.

"Just thinking, Simmons. If you could go back in time, make the choice of whether or not to get involved in the SGI, knowing everything we know now, would you?"

Simmons chuckled. "With all due respect, sir, fuck yeah I would. We're fighting for everyone on Earth, especially our loved ones. Being a part of this … How many people would kill for the chance to fight fucking aliens? And we get to do that. We get to kill the shit out of evil brain parasites and their legions of doom. I don't know about you, sir, but for me, it's an honor to be involved in this."

Don nodded. "I agree. We're Earth's first line of defense against the Goa'uld. And being a part of that … it's something special."


Heliopolis Base, ES-1

February 3rd, 1948

Samuel watched Ernest and Catherine practically fawning over the consoles of the control room once again. He was along for the ride, more or less, to activate consoles or open doors that required whatever characteristic only a small number of people had.

So far, there had been little need for his services in that regard. There were several corridors with sealed doors much like the one isolating this command center from the rest of the facility, but for the most part, it had been agreed to hold off on blind exploration until they could access a database with more detailed information. This was what Ernest and Catherine were currently doing, trying to interpret the computer system's various prompts and commands, along with a team of technicians. This system was … unbelievable. The scientists and technicians just couldn't shut up about that fact. They were babbling all kinds of what sounded like technical nonsense to Samuel. Apparently, it was also giving them "ideas." For what, Sam could only guess.

Finally, the gaggle of eggheads called Samuel over to a console where a holographic projection hung. Ernest spoke for the group. "Captain, if you would be so kind, we require your services. We've found a map, complete with labels. We're ready to begin opening the doorways. We know where we want to start." He pointed at an area of the map that seemed to descend deep into the cliff face. "This corridor leads to what we believe to be either the power generation facility or the shield generator."

"How do you get those terms mixed up?"

"It doesn't just say 'power plant' or 'shield emitter.' It specifically identifies the area as a 'Potentia chamber.' Either way, it's worth taking a look at."

"Fine. Get a team together, grab a camera, and let's go."