Pegasus – M3T-791 – Beta Site

Radio silence…

"Sheppard?"

Nothing.

"Sheppard, you there?"

Ronon's brow furrowed as the silence drew on, his concern deepening further. His earpiece had clicked. He was sure of that. Even above the noise of the storm and the hysterical screams of the evacuees as they drew closer, it was as clear and as distinct as it had ever been.

"Sheppard?"

Nothing.

Ronon swallowed, involuntarily, beginning to feel a sense of futility out of it all. And finally, he lowered his hand from the earpiece. If Sheppard could reply, he would have done. Looking back up the road toward the gate, he sighed. He had been calling his name for the better part of a minute, and with a thousand and one questions on his mind, there was one that spoke above all others. One that was beginning to divide his responsibilities. Was he alone?

But the oncoming evacuees could not be ignored. They were too close to simply abandon – not that he would lower himself into doing such a thing. And there were few possibilities as to the cause of the radio silence: a technical glitch or perhaps even Sheppard having lost his earpiece. Both had their merits, he knew, and especially given what they had endured thus far. But the simulation was not over yet. And their score would not count until all three of them had passed through the Stargate – unconscious or otherwise.

But then, something happened which he did not expect, and he watched as the evacuees began to flee into the trees – until not a single one was left.

15:21… 15:20… 15:19…

Ronon's mouth slowly fell open as he watched it happen.

What the hell?

It felt like a bad joke. After all he had done. After all of that work and effort – and not to mention a little risk – and all for nothing. It made no sense. He was there to help them. To save them. To rescue them from the clutches of the Wraith who now lay dead at his feet.

With a frustrated sigh, he shook his head. What was done was done, and he didn't know if he had the time to go beating the trees looking for them now. It was risk enough standing out in the open for this long, and there was still one other concern which was very much at the forefront of his thoughts – Sheppard.

The rain was falling harder now, lashing down upon him as he considered his options. Gooseflesh rippled across his skin, the cold having taken root deep within. He could feel it in his bones. But it did not bother him. He had faced far worse conditions than these during his time spent as a Runner. He had once spent a day on a world called Ibbana, where the rain had not stopped falling for over six thousand years – and even there he had worn more clothes than he did now.

The decision, however, was an easy one, and he turned back… to find the Wraith Commander standing before him; its teeth bared in a snarl; blood trickling from the corner of its mouth.

How he had not heard it crawling back to its feet, he did not know. But, in that fleeting moment of recognition, what confused him even more, was how it had survived two shots to the back from his gun – and at such close a range, nonetheless.

Eyes widening, Ronon stepped back, but it was already too late, and the Wraith Commander was quickly upon him, stepping inside of his gun arm and slamming its fist into his chest. The force of the blow was sudden and crushing; his breath driven from his lungs in a single and painful cry; lost amidst the noise of the storm. The impact drove him back, lifting him full off his feet and knocking him back through the air more than a dozen feet – his gun falling away from him.

He did not recall hitting the ground, but the sickening crunch of the impact, that he remembered. But it was the bodies beneath him which bore the brunt of it, both human and Wraith alike. He grimaced, pain shuddering through him as he rolled himself off the bodies and into the mud. Ribs had been broken – several of them at that – and he could feel his heart hammering beneath them, the pain near intolerable.

But as he pushed himself over and onto his back, the Commander advanced, weaving a careful path through the bodies toward him. Closing his eyes, Ronon slumped, his head slapping down into the mud along with the rest of his body. But he had to get up. He had to move.

He started to get up… but it was already too late.

Standing over him, the Commander snarled with satisfaction, indulging in his helplessness.

Ronon held its gaze, staring it down, unnerved as it lowered itself into a crouch over him. Even as it tore open his shirt and flexed its feeding hand, Ronon showed not the slightest hint of fear. Brazen and defiant, he awaited it, right up until the Commander brought its hand down against his chest.

And Ronon's knife rose to greet it.

Ronon savoured the Commander's cry with a satisfied expression of his own… and all for but a moment before his own cry joined it – the sudden and excruciating pain in his chest almost blinding him from the effort of the move. But he had to push past it, he knew. He had to force the agony aside – and this Wraith was not going to take care of itself.

And so Ronon wrenched the knife free; tearing it through flesh, muscle and bone alike in a single and clean motion that sent the Commander reeling back – its hand tore near in half; hanging by but a single scrap of flesh.

A strangled, almost choked laughter rose from Ronon's throat as the Commander staggered back, clutching at the remnants of its hand. His smile twisted into a smirk, his pain forgotten. "Sorry," he said with a grimace. "Did I ruin your meal?" And then, with one last effort, he threw the knife. It was all he could do. It was all he had left.

The knife found its mark.

13:01… 13:00… 12:59…

Ronon lay motionless, relaxing further in the comfort brought upon him by the loud splash and the steady rumble beneath him as the Commander hit the ground, dead; his knife firmly embedded in its heart.

11:27… 11:26… 11:25…

Grimacing against the pain, Ronon slowly managed to find his feet – first onto one knee, then onto one foot and then finally pushing himself up onto both. With each effort, the pain had pushed back, pressing him down with each and every movement he made in his struggle to stand. Every part of him ached, but none more so than the pain in his chest. The pounding had grown more violent, but he would endure it, he knew. For he had faced worse before.

But as he found his feet, he staggered, his footing lost against the mud beneath him and the bodies he found himself stepping on in his haste to find his balance. There was a crack of bone – fortunately and thankfully belonging to the arm of a Wraith, he saw as he looked down at it. But he recovered his footing quickly enough, planting his foot on top of the Wraith's back as he brought himself to a stop.

Closing his eyes, Ronon breathed deeply, near close to exhaustion as he attempted to exert some measure of control over himself. But the pain was inhibiting everything; pressing him to near collapse as he clutched his chest.

He then opened his eyes, a sudden thought coming to him.

Sheppard.

09:41… 09:40… 09:39…

Frustration, bordering on anger filled him and, without caring, Ronon lashed out with his foot, venting it all into a kick. The Wraith's body lifted against the impact, splashing back down into the dirt.

Where the hell…

Ronon's gun was nowhere to be found.

He shook his head, his chest burning from the effort of the kick. This was the place. This was where it had fallen. He was sure of that. But there was nothing: nothing in the mud or hidden amongst the bodies, or anywhere else he had searched.

And so he searched again… and found nothing.

Ronon kicked out at the Wraith again, feeling a satisfactory crunch of bone. But it was not enough – nowhere near enough to placate him in recompense for his loss. The feeling of his empty hands and the lightened holster on his thigh was not one he was accustomed to. He felt exposed. Exposed and vulnerable.

06:34… 06:33… 06:32…

Reaching down, Ronon wrenched the knife free of the Commander's chest – but not before giving it a good twist first. "And stay down."

Stowing the knife away, Ronon reached across and took up the Commander's stunner pistol, carefully watching for any potential signs of life from its corpse as he rose to his feet. None came. Not that he thought any would given what he had just done to its heart. No Wraith could survive that – not even a Queen.

The stunner pistol, however, did not sit too well in his hands, but it was better than nothing.

04:00… 03:59… 03:58…

At as quick a pace as he could maintain against the pain in his chest and the wet, muddy ground beneath his feet, Ronon finally caught sight of the clearing through the trees. Tracing back the route proved easy enough, his tracking skills clear and uninhibited as he managed to discern his own boot prints in the dark. Roots and rocks encumbered his footing here and there, but proved little resistance as he approached the clearing. And stepping into the cover of the trees, he cautiously peered out into the clearing.

Stunner fire drove him back.

His breath stuck in his throat, choking him as he spun away; his instincts barely keeping him alive. But it was not enough, and one of the shots clipped his shoulder; a sudden numbness seizing his arm and the stunner pistol falling from his grip. And in that moment, his balance was gone, lost as he tripped over the roots of the tree and slammed back against its trunk. Stars, burning bright and painful, filled his vision against the impact, and he slumped, collapsing to the ground, his legs buckling and then finally giving up on him.

But the Wraith were not letting up on their attack. Blasts fired wide; some shooting past so close he could feel the electrical discharges brush against his skin. But he knew exactly what they were doing. He had seen and experienced it before. Only, there were no evacuees to provide a distraction for him here – none that he could see anyway.

02:38… 02:37… 02:36…

Swallowing his discomfort, Ronon pushed out once more, ignoring the pain in his leg as he stretched his muscles further, centimetre by centimetre in his bid to recover the dropped stunner pistol. But it was just out of reach, his boot but a few millimetres away. And pulling himself back into the cover of the tree, Ronon slumped back against the tree, ignoring the cramps in his muscles and all of the other aches and pains he had endured thus far.

The Wraith had yet to relent in their assault, and he knew they would not. All they had to do was keep him confined and penned up here, for it would not be long before his body would give up on him, he knew. The taste of blood in his mouth was becoming stronger, and he was finding it ever the more difficult to maintain consciousness – even with the deafening noise of the stunner blasts slamming into the tree at his back. But he was not going to give in. Not now. Not after all he had endured to get here.

Resting his head back against the trunk of the tree, Ronon drew in a breath, the noise of the stunner blasts furthering the throbbing at his temples; the pulsating veins close to bursting. There was only one thing left for him to do. It was absolute insanity – and it went against every single one of his instincts – but amidst the unending stream of stunner fire, it was the only thing left to him.

Pressing his back against the trunk of the tree, Ronon slowly pushed and edged himself up to his feet, his every movement enflaming the pain in his chest further. His legs shook, trembling with the effort to keep himself up and, as he looked down at where the stunner had fallen, he hesitated; his every instinct screaming out against it. It was all wrong. With the stun blasts shooting past, he would be hit in all but the space of a single step…

Pegasus – M3T-791 – Beta Site

Level 8 – Combat Training: Research and Development

VIRTUAL REALITY LABORATORY 4

Ronon shuddered terribly, drawing in a deep breath as he woke. Whether he had been struck by a stunner or if the time had simply run out, he did not know. But there was one thing he did know – it was over.

Somewhere nearby, someone whistled. "Not bad," David said, exchanging a sideways glance with his brother. "Not bad at all."

Paddy nodded with a look of equal and silent surprise. If he had not seen it, he would have not believed it. He had watched, open-mouthed as Ronon had pushed his way through each and every single obstacle they had thrown at him – and all with a plethora of injuries that would have made any medical professional flinch.

Ronon shuddered again. "That was –" He drew in a breath to further control himself; his heart beating just as hard as it had been just a few moments earlier.

"Intense?" Sheppard finished, standing at his bedside. "Yes. Yes, it was."

Ronon would have said painful – if he had the breath for it. The deep breath he had taken as he woke up had almost threatened to choke him, and all he could do was manage a weak nod.


As the last of the electrodes were removed, Ronon relaxed further, glad now that he could move freely about his bed with lack of wires and tubes to restrain him. "So, we lost?" he grumbled.

"Don't take it too personally, Chewie," Sheppard said. "It wasn't exactly designed to be a cakewalk."

"Far from it," David concurred, spinning around in his chair at his workstation. "I mean, of all the teams that have participated in this simulation, only three percent have passed."

"Three percent?"

Standing on the opposite side of Ronon's bed from Sheppard, both Zelenka and Lorne nodded. "Coughlin, Reed, Nolan and I barely made it past the twenty minute mark before we all bit the dust," Lorne said. "Those damned Darts were a menace."

Sheppard snorted; his lips curling into a smile. "You're preaching to the choir there."

Lorne smiled. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, they hit us the same way they hit you at the start. Lost half the team in the process though," he said, shaking his head. "Coughlin and Nolan got knocked back through the gate, and Reed took quite the tumble down the steps. Pretty much had to do the rest by myself. Not that it came to much."

"Based on our current statistics, that airstrike accounts for twenty-seven percent of the simulations fatalities," David said, "and of those, sixteen percent have resulted in the loss of all team members involved."

Sheppard whistled. "Well, you weren't wrong when you said to be prepared for anything, doc," he said, looking to Zelenka.

"Well, you can thank artificial intelligence for that," David said.

"Artificial intelligence?" Ronon repeated.

Though not fully understanding Ronon's true query, David nodded, nonetheless. "The simulation, or mission if you will, may at first appear simple enough, but it is in fact a lot more complex than you would believe. You see, such as with video games, these simulations utilize artificial intelligence in order to create responsive, adaptive and intelligent behaviours in non-playable characters – and not to mention dynamic and realistic user experiences."

"Well, mission accomplished," Sheppard remarked. "That was pretty damned indistinguishable to me."

"Hear, hear," Lorne agreed.

"However, another aspect of the artificial intelligence software, lies in its ability to adapt to each participants respective strengths and weaknesses," David continued.

"And how does it do that?" Sheppard asked.

"Well, when this technology was first being developed, Dr. Lee and the team working on it at Stargate Command programmed the simulations in such a way that the participant's own memories formed the basis of the simulations difficulty. However, following the incident where Teal'c got trapped inside the simulation –"

Ronon sat up a bit straighter at that. "He what?"

David nodded. "It's difficult to explain, but yes. You see, with Teal'c's own memories forming the basis for the simulation's difficulty, one of his own memories inadvertently triggered a seemingly unending and unwinnable scenario.

"You see, the memory in question was one in which Teal'c believed that the war against the Goa'uld System Lords could not be won. As such, the simulation incorporated this into its programming –"

Sheppard cleared his throat. "Long story short, whenever Teal'c won, the game would reset and get harder and harder and harder and harder."

"Sounds like my kind of game," Ronon said.

"Except this game almost killed him," David said.

Ronon thought on that a moment, and then turned away, looking across at the other bed, where McKay lay sleeping – and snoring away to the displeasure of everyone else. "Then what's with him?"

"Well," Sheppard began, turning back to look upon McKay as he snored, drooling onto his pillow, "let's just say that he didn't take too well to getting fed upon by the Wraith."

"Ah, yeah. Almost forgot about that," Ronon said.

"Yeah, well, he won't," Sheppard said. "Nearly had himself a heart attack; so they had no choice but to knock him out."

"But he didn't get fed upon," Zelenka put in. "The moment the Wraith's hand touched his chest, he was immediately disconnected from the simulation. After that, well… Rodney's anxiety, hypochondria, and God knows what else took over."

Sheppard smiled. "Still, that disconnection took us all a little by surprise there, doc," Sheppard said. "Hell, I honestly thought I was a dead man when those blasts hit, and then I woke up and almost had a heart attack myself."

"Well, unfortunately the transference of emotional and mental trauma following the disconnection is, at the moment, beyond our control," David said. "It's one of the reasons why these simulations are carried out with medical staff on hand."

"As you can expect, the IOA have expressed their concerns over the potential health risks," Zelenka said.

"Why, have they tried it out yet?" Sheppard said dryly.

Neither Zelenka nor David felt a need to answer that.

Milky Way - Earth – Atlantis, Janus' Lab

"General?" Davis said over his radio.

Walking down the corridor towards Janus' Lab, Jack seemed to struggle swallowing down the last of his sandwich. "…" he gasped, a rough series of coughs escaping his throat. His face flushed near-purple as he fought it down, and he at last drew in a deeply rewarding breath as he did.

"General, are you there?" Davis asked again.

Clearing his throat with a rough and haggard cough, Jack rubbed at his eyes. "I'll be there in five," he said, pressing a finger to his earpiece. "Just keep them busy with system checks or something."

"Yes, sir."

As the radio clicked off, Jack reached across and swiped his hand over the door control console. He stepped in casually, and the doors swept shut at his back. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be in command of one of our battlecruisers, you sure do like spending as much time as possible off of it."

Standing just off to his right by one of the lab's various and many workbenches, Sam looked up from her laptop, beside which lay the cloudy, disc shaped crystal that had confounded Daniel several days prior. She smiled at the remark. "Sorry, sir. Couldn't help myself."

"Come now, Carter, you can't go using that excuse every time," he said, breaking a smile of his own as he approached the workbench.

Sam's smile broadened.

"Still trying to figure it out?"

Sam nodded. "There were a couple of tests I thought might be worth pursuing," she said, regarding the crystal with a look that spoke volumes as to her actual progress. Then she looked back up, "You looking for Daniel?"

Jack gave a light shrug. "Just felt like taking a walk."

"Busy day?"

"Early day," he said, leaning against the workbench. Then, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, "But you know the old saying – a galaxies work is never done."

"So what was it today?"

"Oh, just another Tok'ra and Free Jaffa delegation to discuss the threat of the Lucian Alliance. Not that it came to much," he said. "I mean, the Jaffa are pushing on with this stupid offensive of theirs. The Tok'ra are… well, doing what they do best. And now, thanks to the IOA, we're doing even less than both of 'em put together – which they're not particularly fond of, I can tell you."

"Well, the defensive strategy they are putting into place does have its merits, sir."

"Try telling them that."

Sam smiled. "But the latest Freestone Report has indicated to further infighting within the Lucian Alliance clan."

Jack nodded at that, having been told as much by the Tok'ra delegation. "But they still share one common goal," Jack said, his tone growing a touch more serious, "and based on the latest Tok'ra intelligence, that is still going strong. Infighting or otherwise. But…" And with that, Jack yawned once again, rubbing at his eyes.

Sam watched him, all too familiar with such weariness. Early mornings and late nights were something they had grown accustomed to since the Stargate Program began, and especially where intergalactic time zones were concerned. "Too much politics for one day?" she asked.

"I think you mean a lifetime," Jack sighed. "But anyway… tests?"

Now it was Sam's turn to sigh, and she turned her gaze – speaking for her once again – back down to the crystal. "At this point, all I can say for sure is that it is a control crystal of some kind. Our scans have confirmed that much. But as for this… transmutation of the crystalline structure…" Sam blew out a breath, shaking her head. "… I haven't got a clue."

Reaching out and picking up the crystal, Jack gave her a reassuring smile, "Oh, I'm sure that big old melon of yours will figure it out eventually," he said, turning it over in his hands. "Hell, McKay has all but given up on this thing, and we all know how much he likes to lord his intelligence over everyone."

"Well, to be fair, he is in another…"

Her voice trailed off into silence, and she stared, her eyes narrowing on the crystal in Jack's hand. How he had not noticed yet, she did not know, but the evidence was pretty clear – and so too was the crystal in his hands.

Milky Way – Earth – High Orbit, H.M.S. Victory

BRIDGE

Entering the bridge and fully immersed in reading through and signing off on many of the last-minute upgrades and system checks for the upcoming hyperdrive tests, Commodore James Robinson almost overlooked the silence that had fallen over the bridge. It took him a few moments before he noticed it. It happened whenever he walked into a room, and he was beginning to get tired of it.

But his features relaxed into a smile as he looked up from his tablet computer. "We've talked about this, people," he said. "You've all got far more important things to be getting on with than standing to attention whenever I walk into a room, and so do I. Now, as you were."

And so, work resumed.

That's better, he thought, smiling. But they would adjust in time, he knew.

"Evans, report."

Having restrained her urge to stand to attention along with the others, Flight Lieutenant Evans straightened a little in her seat, nonetheless. "All systems are in the green, sir."

Robinson nodded. "Good."

"However, Homeworld Command has asked us to temporarily postpone the hyperdrive tests until General O'Neill has had a chance to talk with you, sir. A recent development in Atlantis requires his attention."

"Did they say how long he will be?"

"Unfortunately not, no. But they assure us that he will contact you the moment he is available."

Robinson visibly swallowed his disappointment, but nodded, nonetheless.

Milky Way – Earth – Atlantis, Janus' Lab

"Huh."

Jack held the crystal up again, but there was no mistaking its clarity.

Daniel blinked again. "And all you did was pick it up?"

"Pretty much."

"But… but the tests came back negative for ATA gene interfacing," Daniel said, still at a loss as Jack handed him the crystal.

Walking back across the lab with a cup of coffee for Daniel, Sam nodded, placing the coffee down in front of him as he took the crystal. "I know," she said, equally as confused. "I mean, McKay has the Ancient gene, and he must have handled this almost as much as you have. Even Sheppard has handled it."

"But it's a crystal," Jack said. "Shouldn't there be circuits and stuff? I can see clear through this thing."

"Well, yes, but this is Ancient technology we're dealing with, sir. Essentially, that crystal is the circuit."

"So it has a power source as well?"

Sam nodded. "Oh, yes. It has been –"

"Erm guys," Daniel said, slowly, his gaze fixed; staring open-mouthed the crystal, "you might want to take a look at this."

The crystal had reverted back to its cloudy state.

Sam stared, incredulous. "What?"

"Is it me, or do you just seem to keep on breaking this thing?" Jack said.

"All I did was –"

"Pick it up?" Jack finished, interrupting his protest. "Yeah. That sounds awful familiar."

"But this doesn't make any sense," Daniel said, shaking his head. "Why –"

"Perhaps not," Sam broke in, and extending a hand toward the crystal in Daniel's hands, asked, "Can I?"

Daniel obliged, handing it over and reaching down to pick up the coffee.

Nothing happened as Sam turned it over in her hands to observe it. Having handled it several times following its first 'transmutation', she had not expected it to. But there was still one other factor left to consider, and she looked to Jack, holding out the crystal for him.

Knowing better than to question anything Sam did, Jack took the crystal, and it turned clear.

Milky Way – Earth – High Orbit, H.M.S. Victory

BRIDGE

"I have General O'Neill for you, sir."

Robinson breathed a sigh of relief, looking up from his tablet computer. "Ah, finally," he said, pushing himself up and out of his chair. "Put him through."

"Yes, sir," Evans replied.

Robinson stood before the monitor across from Evans' workstation just in time for the transmission to come through. "General O'Neill," Robinson said with a slight nod.

"Colo… Commodore," Jack corrected himself, shaking his head slightly. "How fares your new ship?"

"Well, she's a little more complicated than a Eurofighter, but as far as we can tell, we're ready to proceed with the hyperdrive tests," Robinson said.

"Well, unfortunately, it looks like I'm going to have to ask you to put a hold on that," Jack said. "Word has come down from on high, and it looks like we have a mission for you."

"A mission?"

"Oh, don't go getting too excited, Commodore. Just the run of the mill sensor sweep."

Robinson cocked his head slightly. "A sensor sweep?"

Jack nodded. "You see, several years back, that pesky Goa'uld Anubis decided to throw an asteroid our way."

"Ah, yes, I remember," Robinson said. "If I recall –" And then he paused, a look of realisation coming over him. "The naquadah."

Jack nodded with him. "The IOA wants a mineral survey and compositional analysis for a potential mining operation."

"Seems simple enough."

"I would task the Odyssey for it, but she's a little tied down by the IOA herself," Jack said. "And with the Hammond tasked with protecting the Alpha Site…"


"Commodore, all systems are online and operational, and we have been given the all clear from Homeworld Command to proceed," Evans reported.

"Thank you, Evans." And with that, Robinson drew in a breath; ready for his first mission – even if it was for something as simple as a sensor sweep. "Take us out."

A chill ran through him, and Robinson could not help but relive the same childlike awe that had struck him as he looked out of the viewport. To clear the moon in a matter of seconds was something he had thought impossible. With speeds of between thirty and forty percent the speed of light, he had estimated that they would be at their destination in a little over an hour – which gave him more than enough time to enjoy the view.

He had flown nearly every jet the Royal Air Force had to offer; had qualifications to fly civilian airliners and various other forms of aircraft. But never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined this. And he thought he was being pranked when he was being informed of the Stargate Programs existence – but the three-hundred-page non-disclosure agreement handed to him by his own Prime Minister suggested otherwise.

"At our current speed, we should reach our destination in one hour and eight minutes, sir," Evans said.

Robinson nodded. "Thank you, Evans."

And then he saw it. Mars.

Amidst the sea of stars beyond the viewport, it was but another pinprick, but he found it quickly enough. And as the minutes passed, it grew steadily larger; its orange-reddish colour captivating everyone on the bridge. Pushing himself up and out of his chair, Robinson felt a near-giddy anticipation to see another planet for himself – and not one on TV or in magazines. This was the real thing. He had only seen the Earth and the Moon as the Victory was being put through its paces for the sublight engine tests, but this was planet number two, and he was not going to waste a single moment of it.

Nor was he going to deprive his crew of the chance.

"Evans," he said, turning back. "Open a ship-wide channel."

"Yes, sir."

He could see the hesitation as she looked up; brow furrowed and a question on her lips as she had looked up from the workstation. But he understood it well enough.

"Ship-wide channel has been established, sir."

Robinson nodded, taking a moment before he spoke and turning back just as Mars grew to encompass the viewport. "Attention, crew of the Victory, this is Commodore Robinson speaking. In a few moments, our current course will be taking us past Mars – and boy is it a sight to see." He took a slight pause. "As such, I am offering you all the chance to put your duties aside for a few minutes and to go and take a look at this breath-taking… and not to mention, once in a lifetime opportunity for yourselves."

Even as he spoke, he could feel the appeal beginning to spread amongst the bridge crew, with excited whispers breaking out.

"The Victory will decelerate to a standard cruising speed as we make our pass, which should provide you with more than enough time to take in the view. Now, Mars should be passing us by on the port side in approximately two minutes, so if you wish to go, then go now… and of course, enjoy yourselves. Robinson out."

A deep, but barely audible breath escaped his lips as he finished his announcement and, other than the noise of the Victory herself and the ship-wide channel clicking off, silence fell thereafter. "A once in a lifetime opportunity, people," he called out as if still in announcement, "and the seconds are tick-tick-ticking away."

ENGINEERING LAB 2

The small satellite on the floor of the lab was cube-like in shape – or at least had been at one point in its life. Something had shot through one side and had near-torn the satellite apart from the inside out on the other. Julian Marten's brow rose with surprise as the full extent of the damage revealed itself. "And you say that this was caused by something the size of a marble?"

Looking up from the wreck of the satellite on the floor before them, Doctor Ian Hayes nodded. "If it's travelling fast enough, yeah."

"How fast, Doctor?" Marie Kern, a German IOA member asked, looking up from her notes.

"Well, it's hard to put an exact figure on that, but off the top of my head, I'd say several kilometres per second at the very least."

"Per second?" Marie repeated.

"Oh, yeah," Hayes said with an enthused tone. "But in the end, it's all about distance. The closer the debris is to Earth, the greater its orbital velocity, and the farther away it gets –"

Marie nodded her understanding. "The weaker its orbital velocity becomes," she finished, scribbling down notes once again.

Marten, Kern's German associate, looked up, still in awe at the damage. "Almost makes me glad that I didn't pursue a career as an astronaut."

Hayes smiled. "Well, I knew the risks when I went up all those years ago, but there are special measures put in place to avoid such collisions. Thruster burns usually," he quickly added. "The International Space Station alone has had to perform dozens of these manoeuvres since it was launched; with a fair few of 'em being in relation to the Stargate Program."

"You were an astronaut?" Marten asked.

"A payload specialist, yes," Hayes replied, "and I –"

"I'm done."

At the lab's main workstation, Kavanagh spun around on his chair, his expressionless face not having softened since he had sat down over half an hour ago. He had not taken to his temporary re-assignment well.

Turning back, Hayes looked past him and toward the monitor on the wall ahead of the workstation. "Finally, he breathed. He didn't know how much longer he could have occupied them with talk of the dangers of space debris and meteors and meteorites. He had been talking for so long that it was beginning to bore even him – and it wasn't even his speciality. Even beaming the satellite onboard had been a last ditch attempt to at least keep them interested.

Stepping around the workstation, Hayes looked over the sensor data.

Marten's brow rose once again as he and Marie joined Hayes. The blue of the Earth's oceans and the green/brown of its lands and the clouds in the sky were all but gone, lost amidst the innumerable dots of the debris which littered its orbit.

For a moment, both Marten and Marie were speechless with shock. "My word," Marten said.

But his words came but a moment too soon, and the Earth drew back, shrinking in size by more than half. And it was here where the Earth was lost to sight, fully enveloped by the dots.

"How many is that?" Marie asked.

With a few deft clicks of the controls, Kavanagh uploaded some new data, and with a brief flicker of the monitor, an index appeared at the bottom left hand corner of the screen.

CAT1 – 1mm to 1cm – 189,392,372

CAT2 – 1cm to 10cm – 2,467,117

CAT3 – 10cm – 32,195

That many? Marie mouthed the words.

"But…" Marten paused, turning back to look out of the viewport and to the view of the Earth beyond. He shook his head. The planet looked so clear from up here, unspoilt by any debris.

"Attention, crew of the Victory, this is Commodore Robinson speaking…"

BRIDGE

"… and especially given how much effort they have all put into getting the Victory operational," Robinson continued.

On the monitor on the wall across from where Evans sat at the helm, Jack nodded. "Definitely something I wouldn't have thought of."

"Well, it seemed far too good an opportunity to pass up on seeing," Robinson replied, "and it sure did not disappoint."

"And I'm sure it did not, but just you wait until you see what this galaxy has to offer. Or galaxies, rather," Jack corrected himself. "Believe me, Mars will long be forgotten once you've got a few missions under your belt."

Though he did not voice nor show it in any way, Robinson doubted that. Mars held much fascination for him, mainly from an academic interest, and to look upon the planet which had been the focus of many hours of research and study, it was not something that would be forgotten so easily. Nor would he ever.

Olympus Mons, the largest volcano in the solar system, had captivated all those on the bridge with him as it slowly crept into view on the eastern rise of the planet. With Mars coming in at slightly more than half the size of Earth, and with Olympus Mons roughly the size of France, it had dominated the landscape. And following it came Ascraeus Mons, Pavonis Mons and Arsia Mons, which were among some of the largest volcanoes in the solar system.

And thereafter came the Valles Marineris, a staggering two and a half thousand mile long trench system, with depths of up to four miles – and one of the largest canyons in the solar system. But with the planet passing by on the Victory's port side, the viewport on the bridge could only reveal so much before it was lost to view.

Noting Robinson's pause, Jack cleared his throat. "But anyway, I'm sure that you have preparations to make before you proceed with your hyperdrive tests, so I won't keep you any longer."

"Oh, please, we're just about as ready as we'll ever be to proceed," Robinson said. "Honestly, if it was up to me, this would have been a very short trip."

"Yeah, well, it's better to be safe than sorry when it comes to the hyperdrive. Speaking from experience of course."

"Even so, our deep system scan has given us the green light to proceed."

"And as much as I would love to give you that green light, those two IOA guests of yours don't seem too keen on it," Jack replied. "But the sooner the Victory is commissioned the better," he said. "With the Sun Tzu still under repair, our fleet is stretched pretty thin between here and Pegasus. And it will be another two months before the Chekov is projected for completion.

"But there's something to be said for quality over quantity," Jack continued. "Our ships may be few in number, but they're the best in the neighbourhood."

Milky Way – Sol System – Asteroid Belt, H.M.S. Victory

BRIDGE

Even squinting, two, perhaps three asteroids could be seen drifting through the expanse of space beyond the viewport. Evans leaned back in her chair. "I always thought there would be…"

"More?" Robinson finished.

Evans nodded.

"Well, contrary to popular belief, and popular culture, the asteroid belt is a pretty barren and empty place," Robinson said. "If you were to gather them all into a single object, it would probably be about half the size of the moon."

"Half?"

Robinson nodded. "It's believed to be the remnants of –"

"Sir!" Evans' shout came but a moment shy of a sudden alarm from her console. "Sensors are detecting a ship near Earth. It's –" Evans shook her head, leaning back slightly in her seat, staring at the monitor, her words seemingly lost in her confusion. "This can't be right."

Robinson flinched at the alarm, looking back. "Evans!"

Evans shook her head in reply, reading the sensor data once again. "I… I don't know how to explain it, sir, but the sensors did not detect a hyperspace window."

"What?!"

"The sensors did not detect a hyperspace window, sir. It just appeared out of nowhere," Evans said, looking up as she found no fault with the sensor data. "Seven hundred and twenty-six thousand miles out." Robinson made to open his mouth, but a sharp intake of breath from Evans cut him off. "It's a Goa'uld cargo ship, sir!"

Robinson drew an uncomfortable breath; a grave expression coming into his features. The Lucian Alliance, he thought – and a deeply troubling one at that given the potential devastation a single cargo ship could deliver, and almost had done a few months earlier. Luck had smiled upon them that day. But he could not chance a fifty to seventy megaton bomb on luck. Nor could he chance a ship slipping past Earth's only remaining defence – Atlantis.

He shook his head, cursing the IOA for proceeding at sublight speed. They could have been here in the space of a single second with the hyperdrive, and would have been back long before this ship had even arrived.

Evans watched him, her own expression mirroring that of his own as his silence deepened. Time was wasting away. "Sir?"

Robinson blinked, drawing back from the workstation. "Evans, set a course for that ship and engage the hyperdrive." There was no reservation to his tone. "And don't wait for my order." He then looked across to Flying Officer Whittaker at the weapons station. "Whittaker, sound general quarters, and alert Bader and Gibson to have their F-302 squadrons standing by for deployment at a moment's notice."

"Yes, sir."

And that was when he missed it – the Victory's first journey through hyperspace.

It was but a brief flicker. A flash of light and it was all over. His gaze had been on Whittaker and not the viewport, and he had missed it. His sigh found itself lost against the noise of the alarm, but it did not matter now, and he shook his thoughts clear of it; refocusing instead on the small silvery-gold speck that was their uninvited guest beyond the viewport.

"Evans, report!"

"It's a cargo ship, sir, but…"

Robinson watched as her brow furrowed. "What is it, Evans?"

"It's stopped," she said, looking up and out toward the cargo ship.

"What?"

"The cargo ship, sir. It hasn't moved since –" A beeping on the console broke her off. "Sir, I've got General O'Neill for you."

Robinson nodded. "Put him through," he said. Then, looking across to Whittaker, "Order Bader and Gibson to deploy their squadrons. Containment protocol alpha one."

"Yes, sir."

"And Evans, I want everything you can get me on that ship. Full sensor sweep."

"Yes, sir."

Robinson approached the monitor just as the transmission came through, and the sound of Atlantis' own alarms clashed with that of the Victory's own as Jack appeared on the monitor. "Well, Commodore, it looks like that hyperdrive of yours works after all."

"I never doubted it for a second, General," Robinson replied, speaking a little louder to be heard over the noise of both alarms, "but it pains me to think what could have been if…"

Jack nodded his understanding at the pause. "Have you been able to acquire a visual?"

"We're moving to intercept as we speak, but yes, yes we have," Robinson said, taking a brief glance at the cargo ship beyond the viewport. "If you wish, I can have our sensor telemetry transmitted to Atlantis for your own review."

"Any visual telemetry will be much appreciated, but Atlantis' sensors can handle the rest," Jack said. But then, he paused – an impression of an unasked question upon his face. "Speaking of which," he began, his head cocked slightly to one side, "you didn't happen to notice anything odd about our… uninvited guests' arrival?"

Robinson's brow rose in response. "You know, it just so happens that we did," he said. "We're not sure how, but our sensors did not detect the formation of a hyperspace window. The cargo ship just –"

"Appeared out of nowhere?" Jack finished. "Well, that makes two of us. I mean, as far as our deep space sensors are concerned, there were no ships in a forty-three light year radius of Earth."

"Then where –"

Jack wagged a finger at him. "And that, Commodore, is the question."

"Squadrons are away, sir," Whittaker called out.

Much to his disappointment, the deployment was over before Robinson could even turn back, with both Bader and Gibson's squadrons having formed a tight net over the cargo ship. Sitting at a little over a kilometre away, it was still but a silvery-gold speck, but it was by no means any less of a threat. "Well, if they had no intention of surrendering before…" Robinson quietly mused as he took a moment to take in the sight.

Jack smiled. "Oh, just you wait until our rapid response squadrons join you up there. If they're not crapping their pants now…"

Robinson smiled himself. Then, he grew serious, "That being said, General, have you tried to make contact yet?"

"We've tried, but whoever's up there don't seem to be in a particularly talkative mood," Jack said. "And I doubt they came all this way to just sit there doing nothing."

"What about Atlantis' sensors, General?"

"Well, that's where things get really interesting," Jack said. "You see, for some reason, our sensors are unable to penetrate its hull."

There was a short pause, and Robinson spoke slowly, an air of surprised disbelief in every word. "Of a Goa'uld cargo ship?"

"Hard to believe, I know, but the eggheads here can't make heads or tails of it, and they're fairly certain that there's nothing wrong with the sensors."

Robinson considered that a moment. "Evans," he said, turning back to her. "Sensors. What have we got?"

"Nothing that I can make heads or tails of either, sir," she replied, looking up. "Other than identifying it as a Goa'uld cargo ship, our sensors are unable to penetrate its hull."

"We have visual telemetry, sir," Whittaker said, finding an opening to speak.

"On –"

But Whittaker had beaten him to it, and there was the briefest of flickers as the monitor adapted itself to accommodate both feeds. "Atlantis should be receiving telemetry momentarily."

The video, courtesy of Group Captain Bader's F-302, was surprisingly still, but what it displayed was clearly a Goa'uld cargo ship.

"And there she is," Jack said as the video zoomed in a little closer.

"I can't see anyone at the helm," Robinson said.

"Doesn't mean anyone's not home," Jack replied. "Can you get closer?"

Robinson nodded, turning back. "Whittaker, contact Bader and see if he can get a closer shot of the interior of the bridge for us. But have him maintain a safe distance."

"Yes, sir."

It took little more than a minute for Bader to carefully manoeuvre his F-302 into position, but even the steeper and improved angle of the shot did little to reveal much beyond the chairs, or the self-destruct device behind them.

Robinson shook his head. "Nothing."

"What about the floor?" Jack said. "Can you pan the camera down a little?"

But it appeared as thought Bader had read his mind and the video began to slowly pan down, revealing a small segment of floor between the chairs and the self-destruct device – and it was covered in blood. The video panned down even further, and that was where they found him.

That was where they found Bra'tac.