Chapter 30
ES-6, Imperial City of Yu
February 21st, 1948
The final shipment of antitoxin was delivered, and Dr. Sanderson was overseeing distribution. They had managed to minimize fatalities, with less than a hundred and fifty out of nearly three thousand cases. He had begun educating the populace in medical procedure and was working on proposals for improving medical procedure on Earth.
Area 52, Nevada
November 28th, 1948
How time had gone by. It had been almost ten months since Oberon had Ascended, leaving them with some useful information and more questions than answers.
Samuel looked over at Catherine, who returned his look with a smile, one hand resting on her swelling stomach. She had stopped traveling through the gate months previously, to minimize the risk of a second miscarriage. They were in the control room watching the newest additions to the program head out.
Samuel had been busy. His growing responsibilities, from trying to set up a search for Earth's gate pedestal to continuing to squash UFO sightings to leaning on Hoover to get the FBI to dish out what they knew about espionage, meant he had been Earthside for most of the year, albeit traveling frequently around the country.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the base, three prisoners were being "debriefed" for probably the hundredth time. It was becoming clear they had learned just about all they could from the two Jaffa and one Goa'uld. The question was becoming, what to do with them? They couldn't be released; they knew too much. They could be kept indefinitely, in theory, given the state of war between the Goa'uld and Earth. Many people were beginning to support the third option: blatant execution and disposal of the evidence.
There had been continued exploration of the worlds both protected by the Asgard treaty and provided by Oberon. They had found one particularly advanced species, the Galarans, who were approximately on par with Earth in most areas, slightly more advanced in others.
Another species they had happened across, but were still far from establishing a diplomatic connection with, were the Svoriin. The main contact so far had been when a Svoriin team had happened to dial in to a world the Initiative was exploring. The contact had, thankfully, been uneventful, and the Svoriin team had given their home gate code and would be waiting to hear from Earth.
This had sped up the next phase of development planned: the establishment of an offworld diplomatic center. After much discussion, a decision had been reached: ES-1, Heliopolis, would be used as the official diplomatic center on account of its alien defenses and the fortifications already made in the gateroom.
A research team was being assembled for the coming expedition to Antarctica. Fortunately, the Antarctic Outpost was apparently located within a chunk of land claimed by New Zealand. The precise nature of the expedition's public reasoning was "long-term geological survey and prolonged habitation studies," an excuse deliberately intended to be relatively uninteresting and as non-military as possible, to avoid provocation.
Of more concern to Samuel was the slew of upcoming trials. He had found … leverage against good ol' J. Edgar, and, using that, had forced Hoover's cooperation in exposing information on several Soviet spy rings, including at least one in England, as well as testimony from one of them implicating Samuel Dickstein, the former head of HUAC. The Soviets were not going to be happy that their little intelligence web was being ripped apart. But it was essential to preserve the secrecy of the Stargate.
Moscow, Russia
November 28th, 1948
Fearing for your job was one thing. Fearing for your life was another entirely. Fearing for both seemed redundant. And yet this was the position Pavel Borodin and Boris Krylov were in. Much of the network that fed the analysts their information had recently been dismantled or forced to go dark. To make things worse, nobody had seen the dismantling coming. It was as though the capitalists had suddenly learned of them and moved swiftly to apprehend as many as possible. It was estimated that less than ten percent of their network had avoided detection.
The two still had both jobs and lives, but for how much longer was unknown. Right now, they were deciphering some of the last information sent before everything had gone to hell.
"Codename: MAJESTIC-12. Alleged purpose: unknown. Top-secret clearance required. An apparent committee within the United States government formed in the middle of last year by executive order of President Truman, at the same time as the National Intelligence Directorate." Pavel recited.
"Pavel, you've said this a dozen times in the last hour." Boris chided. "Stop repeating, start analyzing."
Pavel nodded. "Middle of last year. Shortly before the network started being dismantled. Special investigative committee, perhaps? Intended to root out our infiltration?"
Boris shrugged. "Possibly. Or it could be something unrelated to us. Maybe related to those "unidentified flying objects" that seemed to be cropping up everywhere for a minute."
Pavel laughed. "I'm not going to say alien space invaders, Boris. Not when the higher ups want answers for how the Americans and British knew about our infiltration. Better to give them a reason, use this 'MAJESTIC-12' as the cause."
Fort Roosevelt, ES-3
December 5th, 1948
Don was in one of the Gateships, practicing his flying and shooting. The drone weapons were tricky to control, but extremely potent. They seemed to burrow through the target, perforating it repeatedly, before detonating in a rather impressive blast, judging by the craters they were leaving. The targets were mock-ups of the smallest Goa'uld spacecraft, the Death Gliders. And the drones were devastating them. Don was well aware, however, that this was not a valid test against the actual vessels. This was target practice, nothing more. They had several hundred thousand drones to work with; expending a few for the sake of practice was small potatoes. He was due for a turn in the control chair, practicing with maneuvering a swarm of them and returning them safely to storage.
The training session lasted another hour before Don called it quits. He was growing steadily more effective, but Sergeant Irwin, one of Slade's men, was the best by far at operating the systems. Irwin was likely to be the primary operator of the drones once they got the outpost operational.
ES-80
January 5th, 1949
The silver-armored team moved slowly, cautiously through the woods. Serpent helmets up, Ma'tok staffs ready, they neared their objective. Their unsuspecting prey would be an easy target.
They neared the encampment, and the lead figure paused. Raising his staff into position, he prepared to open fire when suddenly a hail of red energy bolts erupted from the surrounding forest, felling him and his fellows in moments.
Some time later, the figure stirred. Deactivating his helmet, Bra'tac looked around. "Did we 'kill' any of you?"
Don shook his head. "Not even one. You need to learn situational awareness. You were so focused on the encampment that you didn't check your surroundings. Our perimeter posts saw you from half a mile away, giving us plenty of time to set an ambush."
"I see." Bra'tac rose to a sitting position. "The intars are working well for you, I take it?"
"They're interesting. Able to mimic the forms of various weapons, a decent stun effect … we might want more of these."
"I can only obtain so many without raising questions."
"I see. In any case, we need to continue these training sessions."
"Indeed. There is much we can learn."
Area 52, Earth
January 7th, 1949
Paul was bored. Little that involved his field of expertise was going on, so he had decided to return to an old project, having the coverstone found above the Stargate at Giza brought in for study. However, until it arrived, he had to settle for the numerous pictures taken of it. Something had been nagging at him. As he pored over the writing, he realized what it was. Right in the center of the stone was a cartouche containing Stargate symbols. After quickly sketching them down, he made a phone call. He needed to speak to the prisoners.
"Tell me what you know about this planet." He said, shoving the sheet of paper through the bars of the cell.
Kor'us took it with a frown and examined it for a moment. "Abydos. A minor mining world in Ra's domain. A desert world. Primitive. Only useful for its mineral wealth. You would gain little by going there."
"What sort of minerals?"
"Chiefly one called naquadah. It has many uses."
"Such as?"
"It is used by the gods to enable much of their magic."
Paul sighed. "We've been over this. It's not magic; merely advanced technology you do not understand."
"Spare me your heresy. This conversation is done." With that, Kor'us returned to his bed and sat down.
Area 52, Earth
January 8th, 1949
"Unless you can give me a damn good reason, I will not authorize a mission to this 'Abydos' planet." General Sheridan said with a note of finality.
"The ancient Egyptians saw fit to put that code, those symbols, on the coverstone. They had to have a reason. I'm not suggesting a big mission. A small team, disguised as Ra's Horus Guard Jaffa. Some quick recon, in and out. Besides which-" Paul hefted a book onto the table and flipped it open to a bookmark, "-I found this." He jabbed a finger to the picture. "This looks a hell of a lot like one of those Potentia devices. According to the text, it was used as a religious icon by Ra. If we can figure where he has a stronghold, we can try to acquire this. We need as many as we can get."
Sheridan nodded. "I understand, but that is too large a risk. We're likely going to be acquiring some from the outposts Oberon gave us. The risk-reward ratio just isn't right."
Paul sighed. "Fine. But I think we should table it for later. Once we have more capabilities."
"I'll consider that. Dismissed."
Heliopolis, ES-1
January 10th, 1949
Ambassador O'Hare smiled as he adjusted his tie for probably the thousandth time. Official delegations from both Galar and Svoriin were going to be arriving over the next few days to begin discussions for trade agreements. In fact, the Svoriin were due to arrive shortly.
Area 52 civilian decoy base, Earth
March 15, 1949
It started like any other day for Catherine. See Samuel off to work at the Initiative, feed her daughter Lucille,
when the phone rang. She walked over and answered it. "Marcus residence, Catherine speaking."
"Catherine," Samuel's voice was soft, "I need you to come to the base immediately. There's been … Paul had a heart attack, and he's not doing well."
It was to her credit that Catherine managed to remain calm. "I'll be right there. I love you."
With that, she hung up, quickly grabbed Lucille, and headed for the car. She practically sped the whole way there. When she arrived, she was quickly escorted to the infirmary. Doctor Sanderson met her at the door.
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but Sanderson beat her to it. "He's slipping. We've barely kept him alive this long. I'd suggest … I'd suggest saying your goodbyes now, while you still have the chance."
Catherine nodded, walking into the room. Paul was lying on a bed and smiled weakly as she approached.
"Catherine." He tried to sit up, but groaned and slumped back down.
"Don't stress yourself, Dad." Catherine said, pulling a chair up.
He nodded. "I'm glad you were able to make it. Dr. Sanderson has made no effort to sugar-coat the situation. I know I don't have long."
"Dad …"
"It's okay, Catherine. Don't be sad. I've lived a full life. I've been part of the greatest adventure in human history. The Stargate … it's been a hell of a ride."
Catherine nodded. "It has been."
Paul smiled again. "Stay with me for a while?"
Catherine nodded again. "Of course."
Heliopolis Base, ES-1
March 15, 1949
The unexpected gate activation saw the team guarding it immediately jump into action, rushing to man the weapons and dropping the portcullis the instant the wormhole was established. Then both communications systems, the Alteran earpieces and the conventional radio, came to life. As Earth's verification code was spoken, they relaxed.
"This is Captain Marcus. I need to speak to Dr. Littlefield immediately."
A few minutes later, Ernest rushed in and moved to the radio. "I'm here. Go ahead."
"I wish I was calling with good news, Ernest. Paul's dying. Complications from a heart attack. He and Catherine want you back on Earth while there's still time."
Ernest paled. "I'll be right there."
As Ernest made his way into the infirmary, Catherine and Paul smiled at him.
"You made it." Paul said weakly.
"I had to." Ernest took a seat by the bed.
Paul looked at Catherine. "Can I have a few minutes alone with Ernest?"
Catherine opened her mouth to object, then nodded reluctantly, standing and walking out.
Paul faced Ernest, propping himself up on one elbow.
"Ernest, you've been like a son to me. I'm sorry for my part in ending yours and Catherine's relationship. Had I been more forthcoming to her, told her the truth … perhaps she would have waited."
Ernest shook his head. "I don't blame you anymore, Paul. It was my fault for rushing ahead with the exploration. I should have told her what I planned to do. But we can't change the past. And the payoff has been incredible. Everything we've found … we changed the course of history the day I went through the Stargate."
The pair talked for a few more minutes before Catherine came back in, to begin discussing final arrangements.
Doctor Paul Langford, the man who would one day be known as the "father of the Stargate Initiative," passed away on March 15th, 1949. The funeral was held a few days later, on March 19th. Ernest, Catherine, Samuel, Don, and several other members of the Initiative were present. Ernest and Catherine delivered a joint eulogy.
