Star Granger Season 2 - Chapter 12
Thoughts
"speech"
"Goa'uld speech"
SG SG SG SG SG SG SG
July 10th 1999 – Earth space
Our conversation with Thor hits a lull, as both sides examine each other, and consider what to say. It's not like we have any experience in first contacts, and we certainly are not interested in the Asgard deciding to exterminate Earth because of something stupid we did.
Thor is looking around at the ship and us people with what seems to be interest. It's a tad hard to understand Asgard facial expressions. Our main display makes him blink. Then blink again when Commander Floyd pulls up the image of his ship on screen. Thor stares at the display for a moment and the image suddenly improves.
"Thanks mate," Calvin says. He then whistles in appreciation "Nice ship! Why is it so large?"
R gives him a glare of death, but he ignores it.
"See? That's the reactors," several areas are marked on the image.
"Interesting!" Keira remarks. "This isn't Naquadah based. Can't recognise this element."
R looks like she is thinking of sending them both to the brig.
Not that we have one.
Calvin ignores her and goes on. "Propulsion, bridge, weapons, computers?" he hesitates a bit at the last one. With every word another location on the ship is marked, leaving the image still mostly unmarked. "This ship is built to carry 20,000 or so, with all their belongings. Yet you are here alone?"
Shame Ted and Siya aren't here.
Thor looks up at the emitter. "This is Ancient technology," He remarks.
"Introduction first?" R offers, and introduces most of us there on the bridge.
"We know this technology to belong to a race called the Alterans," Beatrix returns to the question. "According to the records we have, they were allies of Asgard? "We were planning to look for you. The Furling and the Nox too – soon. Though we have home planet markings for them, but you are not from this galaxy, so we didn't know how to reach out for you."
"To answer your question – The emitter is Alteran technology. It's connected to self-designed computers, though they are using adapted Goa'uld crystal computing technology. Power and propulsion are improvements on Goa'uld tech as well – We are learning, adapting, improving.
"Meet us in six months' time, and we probably won't recognize the new tech ourselves." Keira concludes.
"Interesting," Thor remarks. "And your sensors?"
"Goa'uld mostly." Calvin shrugs. "We still don't understand the technology enough to improve upon."
Thor blinks again.
His sign of confusion? Surprise? Anger?
"Goa'uld sensors cannot penetrate Asgard cloaking."
"Ah, that…" Calvin responds, yet is stopped by R holding her finger up.
"I think it's a bit premature for us to exchange secrets," She says. "We don't ask you how you fly so fast, or what weapons you carry, right?"
"Yet," Calvin smirks.
"Not helping!" I tell him off, poking his shoulder with a finger.
Thor blinks at that too. "Do you have access to other Alteran devices?" he asks.
I shrug. "We have several, we don't know the functions of. Maybe you can help us with some of those?"
Harry brings a finger to his temple and 'throws' up a silvery strand. The display changes to show one of the devices we have.
"This is a long-distance communications device. It is used to communicate in between galaxies." Thor explains with a level tone.
I throw another memory up "We think this is some kind of a log. It feels like it's hidden in some way."
"It is a data bank interface, but the display and storage parts of it are missing. I cannot tell you more without access to the device itself," He explains. "Do you have a knowledge repository, perchance?" Thor asks.
"What does it look like?" I ask.
A strange, yet vaguely familiar device winks into existence beside Thor's hologram.
"Nice!" Calvin calls in appreciation. "Your holograms are better than ours!"
I ignore him and try to remember. The device is wall mounted, and has a steam-punk vibe to it. Then it clicks!
"Erm," Harry says hesitantly. "We don't have one, but we might have access to one. Not sure about its condition, though." Harry answers.
Interesting. Very interesting!
"Be careful with it," Thor advises. "It is not made for human minds. Though a few of you," he says, looking at Harry, "might be able to use it. We, the Asgard, have our own copy, yet our minds are not a match. We have been working on accessing the information within for tens of thousands of years, but we are still just scraping the surface."
Suddenly I'm reminded of the Ravenclaw tiara. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," I mumble. I'm also reminded of the round hole on the wall of the dismantled Alteran hall, at Hogwarts.
"We might have a device made to help with accessing this repository, but it was ruined few years back, by a very stupid person. Do you Asgards understand Alteran technology enough to try and repair it?"
"A worthwhile effort it is," he answers.
Our meeting is coming to an end now.
"It is very interesting meeting you today. When we met with Jack O'Neill and the Stargate Command, they made us see the human race's potential. Now that I met you, I truly believe humans are the fifth race. Much more mature than we believed humans to be."
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be." Beatrix quotes.
Stole the words out of my mouth.
"Please know that O'Neill signed the Protected Planets Treaty with the Goa'uld, in Earth's name. This puts Earth under the protection of Asgard. We cannot spare a ship to guard the planet, but the Goa'uld will not rush to test us on that."
"Good," R remarks "This will give us time to build and prepare."
"I will look forward to meeting with you again," he says evenly.
"Thor," I ask, before he is gone. "Is there a way for us to contact you?"
"Do you possess a Stargate?" He asks in return.
"Yes, but we don't use it, at least until we understand the galaxy better, and have a reliable address book." Calvin replies.
"Much more mature…" Thor says, mostly to himself.
"You can use the Alteran communication device." He blinks, and a small stone appears in the air, just in front of R, who picks it up. A hologram of the device appears in front of him. "Remove all address stones from the device, before turning it on, and put this one in – It will contact us only."
"Thor!" R calls before he's away. "When visiting, in the future, please hail us, or decloak, so we'll know it's you? Surprises are not a good thing while in ships with big guns." She offers.
He blinks again. Then he is gone.
"So," Harry says slowly. "An Alteran repository of knowledge?"
"Bagsy!" both Keira, Beatrix and I say at the same time.
You wish!
July 30th 1999 – Thames House
Sir Stephen James Lander is an impressive gentleman. Looks somewhat younger than you'd be expecting the director of the illustrious MI5 to be. Or maybe you won't – perception is a very personal thing.
We were sent his way by Prime Minister Blair, to sign him in. Apparently, things came up which caused both confusion and disbelief, and the Prime Minister's office is too busy to be the address for this disbelief, or to act as our mailbox. Actually, Prime Minister Blair personally, since no one else in his office is signed in. This will have to change soon, and will open a whole can of worms when it does.
The meeting itself is quite awkward. On one hand, not only is Sir Stephen R's ultimate boss, but she is formally one of the newest, least experienced agents on the ledger. On the other hand, He is well aware she was nominated by the Prime Minister personally, as the head of a project so secret it is over his own paygrade. Not only that, but she is connected to BCE and me, who are another conundrum for the service.
Think about it – This wonderful, do-good company, which comes out of nowhere to take by storm one of the most strategically important sectors of the economy. We present a perfect face, file all our forms on time, pay all our taxes without a peep. Yet we offer no depth. No gossip ever comes out, reviews only find perfect front offices and no dirty backyards. Harry and I, the owners, are young, have almost no documented history or education, and are on the honour list for 'classified contribution to the realm's security' – while the head of the MI5 has no information regarding!
Must be driving him up the wall!
He is surprised when asked to sign a dedicated secrecy contract. It is nothing compared to the way he feels, when we explain our activities, and the state of the galaxy - In very general terms. I tell him nothing about magic. The Director of the MI5, keeper of secrets for the realm, is probably the last person (On earth) whom I would like to know about magical Britain.
He's quite surprised when briefed regarding the limitations the contract imposes. Quite enraged to discover he has no control over the distribution of this secret, and sad when I reject his request for this 'technology' to use.
"Sorry," I tell him. "This technology is so easily abused, that I'm keeping it to myself."
He has one of the best 'I'm older than you, and must know better.' glares I have ever had the pleasure to be under.
"I can take it off your hands," he remarks evenly.
"Right, you and what army?"
Probably not the best thing to tell the head of MI5…
He is about to point out something about him being the Director of MI5, and all those agents at his command, but R stops him.
"You try and do that," she tells him levelly, "and you will forget about it all, never to know again."
"Wren?" he half asks, half warns.
"You can take it up with the Prime Minister, sir" she just shrugs.
It's the turn of the tide. Soon enough, more people will be 'in the know' to put pressure on the Prime Minister. The Royal Navy will be involved. Probably have kittens about not being in charge. Secrets, at least those about space travel, will come out to the open. Until then, we have ships to build, and a meeting to reach.
Westminster is one of the most impressive and beautiful parts of London. Walking around really gives one the impression that the world was once ruled from this place, in a way that Rome doesn't, yet Istanbul strangely does. It's a shame then that one can't find a single cosy café to enjoy her tea and meet people. For this reason, we meet with Jane on the other side of the Thames.
The Black Cab is one of these cosy places, though tea isn't their forte. We find Jane at the outdoor sitting area having a cappuccino and nibbling on their famous banana bread. She must have chosen her table carefully, since when approaching her from the entrance, the sign to the loo can be seen over her head.
Scone point to Jane!
"Wren," she says when we are near her.
"Jane"
"So lovely to see you. You look splendid today!" I gush.
She does! Probably always…
She gives me an amused smile.
"Miss Granger, a pleasure." Jane offers me a cultured greeting. "Stephan pointed me your way regarding an ongoing mission?" she states with a bit of a question in her tone.
I open my bag and post a contract in front of her. That gets me an amused raised brow. She looks at R questioningly and is surprised to be motioned to sign it.
We are done with our cappuccinos and Jane's famous cake, while having a secret service kind of small talk. It is quite dreary to be honest. Jane is kind enough to ask for Harry's uncle's wellbeing. She's honestly sad to learn of his fate.
"Ladies," she finally tells us. "Some issues came up which are frankly unusual. I reckon we should move this to a more private location, though," she says, looking around. "I understand your offices are close by?"
We walk a short distance to a covered cul-de-sac. Most of the area here is a construction site, so those are a plenty. She pulls out the small remote from her inside pocket and presses a button. "Can I offer you a ride?" she asks. Behind her, a saloon beemer decloaks (for a lack of a better word). I'm properly impressed.
This is done using Earth based, current technology. Whoever did this – we want him on our team!
R replies with a thin smirk, and pulls out a remote of her own "I think our transportation will be more practical," she says and presses a button herself. I give Jane the credit for not even flinching when the rings come down.
Still – Scone point to R.
For a long moment Jane says nothing and just stares at the moon view and the open docks in front of her.
"As things stand, you might not find the information I have as unusual as I believed it to be," she finally remarks.
I chuckle. "Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." I tell her.
Another scone point to Jane.
"Your reality is certainly different than my own," she smiles.
"That debacle at the British Leyland factory has started as an inquiry into a list of notable businessmen from around the world."
R motion her onwards. We are familiar with that list.
"I did my thing and discovered that they are obsessed with the acquisition of extra-terrestrial technologies. That's when I thought they had lost their marbles. This group imaginatively calls themselves 'The Committee'. They were mostly focused on some military operation in the US. Something called 'Stargate' which now sounds less pretentious to me than it used to an hour ago."
I smile and feed a memory into the room's emitter. A real size Port is shown next to us. "This device opens a stable wormhole between it and other devices, on other planets, enabling nearly instantaneous travel in between."
"The US military is using this to visit other worlds?" Jane asks.
"And make enemies. Apparently, it's a dangerous galaxy out there." R remarks.
"In any case, The Committee was doing its best to infiltrate that unit, through the Pentagon's National Intelligence Department, and with a lot of backing from That Senator Robert Kinsey, from Appropriations. Then, you come and throw a spanner in the works. Apparently, you are doing exactly what they planned to do, but are too soft for a 'real businessman' – their words. Worse – you were doing it long before they were ready to act. Nevermind ready for competition. I do not believe they were ever planning on having competition, for that matter.
"I had just let them 'get' me. You know," she looks at R, "sometime, being interrogated is the best way to interrogate your target. Then someone had to go and let loose the dogs of war.
"Sorry?" Jane adds. "What happened there, by the way?"
"Do you really want to know?" I ask in return.
"I've signed your contract," she shrugs.
"They; Senator Kinsey, that Colonel Maybourne, and The Committee, apparently though we didn't know about them back then, were trying to get to us to get some leverage on us. In order to do so, they unknowingly made a huge mistake. They kidnaped Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, and Black's best friend, Remus Lupin.
"What they didn't know is that Lord Sirius Black is a distinguished member of the British Magical Parliament. Think about an American rogue agency kidnapping Baroness Jay of Paddington, for example, though the Magical Wizengamut combines the House of Lords, and the House of Commons.
"They also didn't know that Remus Lupin is; was," I correct myself sadly, "a Werewolf, and it all happened on the night of the full moon."
I give her the same explanation I gave R two months back. I don't believe either of them truly understand just how hard headed and blinkered, yet dangerous Wizardkind may be – especially the Americans, in this case.
Much less blinkered, making them even more dangerous.
"What happened to all those people?"
"Most died that night. A few are imprisoned, and wish they were dead." I tell things as they are.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
I'm getting a shocked look from Jane.
"It was all straightforward and legal. Many died in the fight, and all those wounded by Remus were killed too. You might not believe me, but it was an act of kindness. Very few would have lasted the week – the only treatment for Lycanthrope infected wounds is poisonous and quite torturous for normals. Those still alive would have been killed by the next full moon and put all those around them at that time in danger too.
"Of the rest, we sent most back, with no memory of what happened to them and their comrades. They were all found dead a few days later by the American Aurors. Finally, those few who were the leaders were judged by the magical court, and doing porridge. Harry made sure memories were verified, and truth serum was used – there were no mistakes made."
It really hurts to be this cold.
"And what exactly are you expecting from me?" she finally asks. "00 license doesn't make me an assassin, you know."
"It's nothing like that," R replies. "We knew a large part of what you told us today. That list you started with came from us, actually, and in turn – from that Maybourne bloke. The point is, our information is inadmissible. And even if it was, we have neither the jurisprudence, nor the capability to act on any of it.
"We are giving you and Sir Stephen the context needed to understand the risks in what you are investigating. Now, you can do your work protecting Great Britain and the world to the best of your ability and understanding."
Jane nodes slowly.
"Alright," I enthuse. "Who wants to go for a spin?"
This brings a bright smile to Jane's face.
"No-wings?" R asks.
"Brick?" I offer. She deserves a real ship. We may even meet The Hind, on patrol.
Half an hour later we are over Mars, making a fly-by at Keira's crater.
"Want to try it out?" R surprisingly offers.
"Can I?" Jane's face lit up with excitement.
"Sure. Just please bring it back in one piece?" Jane smirks at that.
Probably an inside joke.
"Controls are more of a gaming pad, than aircraft sticks."
Jane raises an eyebrow at this.
"You'll understand." R offers. "Pitch and roll are the rollers on your right and left middle fingers, respectively. Have fun,"
She's hesitant, at first, but gains confidence and speed pretty quickly.
R takes the co-pilot seat and brings us to the middle of the asteroid belt. "Here, she says. "You can try and shoot something. Main gun is your right trigger."
"Huh?" Jane remarks. "I would have expected the asteroid belt to be denser." She turns and heads towards the nearest asteroid, some 250,000 miles from us. "No targeting?" she asks R in surprise.
"You need to be closer." R sighs in exasperation.
"What?!"
"Yes, yes – all this spaceshipness, and guns only."
We are in targeting range now, and Jane tries the gun on the unsuspecting asteroid. "Nice!" she remarks after a few shots while doing a fly-by break off a quarter of a mile long piece from its end. "You need missiles though," she remarks.
"Can't use a weapon which is much slower than enemy ships." R replies plainly. "Weapons are working on this." She adds.
= Brick, this is Hind = we suddenly hear Commander Floyd over the comm. = What brings you out to this neck of the woods =
Victoria's face now shows on the front display, though the Brick's is much less impressive than the Hind's.
= Just showing our friend here, Miss 003, around = I reply. = Hi Victoria = I add.
= 003? I'm such a fan! =
= Say, can you please give our respected guest here a demonstration of real firepower? = R requests.
= Aye sir, get back a bit? =
The Hind's six cannons, at three times our fire rate, disintegrate the three-mile-long asteroid in a couple of seconds. This is not as impressive as it sounds, since the asteroid's rock is much less durable than Naquadah plated ships, and obviously – it's not shielded. Jane is properly impressed though.
"Nice flying," I tell Jane, after we bid the Hind goodbye.
"Played Wing Commander with the beast of 'em," she answers.
R smirks, and makes a few clicks on the controls "Here," she says. "They are coming to destroy Earth – do your best." On the display, all around us, row after row of Goa'uld fighters and pebble ships are approaching.
Jane has this huge smile now.
"R?" I ask softly, after the day is done. "What is it with you and Jane?"
"Is it that clear?" she sighs. "I'm jealous of her." She plainly admits. "She is a step above anything I can even dream of for myself. Intelligent, pretty, came from enough money and the right parenting to open doors, amazingly talented, and hardworking, enough to shine in whatever is beyond those doors. She deserves to be Britain's best operative."
"Are you serious?" I'm quite shocked. "You are the head of Britain's, probably Earth's future?"
"I've told you before - Luck, and being in the right place, at the right moment. I would have never been chosen to do this if I wasn't lucky enough to already be in-the-know, and it all seemed like a small, short-termed project to the Prime Minister at the time.
"This project is getting larger, though, and quite permanent. Soon, people from the office of the Prime Minister, The Ministry of Defence, Admiralty, Treasury, and whatnot, will have to be involved, and politics will begin. That's about the time I'll be replaced by someone more qualified." She tells me dejectedly.
"If you're gonna make it to the top, get a grip on this rock, and get a grip on yourself." I tell her a tad forcefully, and earn a thin smile.
"And darling," I'm going on. "You are here, because you have the vision and leadership to make it happen."
"The vision and leadership are mostly you and Harry, and…"
"Nonsense!" I cut her off. Harry and I are a couple of secondary school dropouts, with a few ideas, and good intentions. Calvin, Keira, and Beatrix are great minds, and Harry and I are doing our bloody best, but this," I wave around us, "actually happening, is mostly because of you."
July 31th1999 – Hampstead, London
Weekend at last, and what a glorious day it is. Started with a lazy morning at home, followed by nice tea in the sun, at the local café, till the London rain came. We have just sat at my parent's dinner table when both Harry's and my mobiles ring.
I'm starting to hate this bloody contraption.
"What?" I hear Harry answer the thing, with as much enthusiasm as I feel myself.
Someone explains something in detail on the other side.
"An American satellite crashed on the docks," He tells us.
What? How?!
For a moment, I'm urged to rush out and be there in person. I reach out and Harry gives me the phone. "Hermione," I say curtly.
There's a lengthy explanation of the incident.
"Was anyone hurt?" Thanks heavens!
"Is the complex in any danger?" Apparently, no.
"Are the Seahorse and Mermaid damaged in any way?" We were lucky there too.
"I'll go. Have a look and come back?" Harry offers, and gets a light thank you kiss, before he's gone.
"Don't you need to go there too, dear?" Mum's asking kindly.
"What I need is to finally have a nice Saturday evening dinner with my beloved parents. Unless lives are in danger, this evening is someone's else's shift."
AN:
On July 31st, 1999, the Lunar Prospector. An American orbiter made to photograph the moon, hit the surface, after being deliberately deorbited.
AN2:
I have received quite a few condolences and kind words from readers, and I'm hugely grateful. Life goes on, and I will remember the good times, of which there were plenty, and for many long years.
Still, your kind words made it a little bit easier for me - thanks!
As usual - huge shout to flyboy38, my beta, who takes the time to make sure the story is a much better read.
Also to Dalwolf For doing Brit-Picking for, well - you all, and help my British.
Cheers!