Spearhead: Tragedies and Statistics

by Darksider

It's 2009, the Goa'uld War has raged for over ten years as Humanity and its allies continue to fight against the System Lords.

3. Part 3

Chapter 4
Sometimes you get the bear...

Outskirts of the Gryphon System
16:15 ZULU
October 27th, 2009

"You know, Razor, if that asshole Reeves gives me shit over the roster one more time..."

"You'll what, put sand in his bunk? Come on, Ghost, you've been putting him on the 'graveyard shift' for the past month, that's gotta piss a person off!"

Captain Walter 'Ghost' Scott grimaced sourly as he looked out of the canopy to the right of his Sabre. Fifty meters across space flew his wing mate, Lt Commander Kirsty 'Razor' Stephanovich. They were flying a combat space patrol on the outer limits of the Gryphon system. They had only been in space for two hours but the MkIII Sabre had an endurance of almost forty-eight hours and their patrol would last another four hours at least.

Razor shook her head as she adjusted her sensor focus onto a passing asteroid. "What's your beef with Reeves anyhow?" The asteroid was big enough to hide any number of things but the scan came up negative. It was clean.

"I caught him ragging on Kalif and his buddies." Ghost explained. "His wasn't being too friendly is all, and I'm trying to send him a message."

"Kalif?" Razor asked, trying to place the name. "Isn't he with the Arab pilots that got assigned to the Prometheus? They're on the graveyard shift as well, aren't they?"

"Yep." He replied. "I think Reeves is a closet racist and I'm giving him a chance to change his views. Either working with them will open his mind or it'll give me cause to ground his ass Earth-side."

"Damn." Razor cursed softly. Although not entirely unexpected, the cultural clashes in the relatively new Earth Navy didn't make sense to her, not when there was a huge alien civilization trying to wipe humanity out. Those sorts of things tended to add a little focus to the situation but then, she figured, humans were always fairly good at multi-tasking. We can fight off alien hordes and still spare enough energy to keep the old hatreds alive.

Her wing mate's voice interrupted her reverie. "Razor, I'm picking up something weird..."

Razor's eyes fell on her computer display and sure enough, it was picking up an increase in radiation. "I got it, too. Computer's chewing in on it...the wave front is localized and increasing in intensity."

"Oh, crap!" Ghost called out tightly. "Go tactical, full burn and break right on my mark, MARK!"

Not questioning her commander's orders, Razor slammed her throttles forward to the stops and pulled her stick back and to the right. Her fighter screamed away like a startled banshee even as Ghost's fighter flew away in another direction.

"I've seen something like it before!" Ghost tried to explain while grunting under the tremendous g-forces he was pulling. "It's the signature of an incoming vessel from hyperspace! When seen from up close and personal!"

Sure enough, before Razor could reply, the area of space the two fighters had just occupied rippled and twisted and seemed to explode as five Motherships dropped out of hyperspace.

"Razor, form up, we're heading back to the barn...full burn!" Ghost called out.

Eyes wide, Razor instinctively rejoined her commander's wing, all the while staring at the massive golden pyramids, with their black superstructure that was studded with antennae, shield grids and weapon ports. "I heard that..."

* * * * * * * * *

"ADMIRAL KENT TO CIC, ADMIRAL KENT, PLEASE REPORT TO CIC IMMEDIATELY!"

Admiral Kent had been sat in his day cabin, going through the day's paperwork when the speaker blared out the alert. The Admiral was out of his chair and halfway to CIC before he had realized his name had been called.

Stepping past the two Marine guards at the entrance to the CIC, Kent was greeted by his TAO, Commander Farrow.

"Report, Andrew."

Commander Farrow handed him a pad. "One of our patrol's was almost mowed down by the five Motherships we've been expecting. They're okay but are heading back to the Ark Royal as fast as they can. They're not being engaged by the Motherships. I've recalled all other patrols and sent the alert out to all stations."

"Good work, Commander." Kent replied. "Now I have to spread the good news even further."

Glancing at the pad once more, he walked over to the communications station and the painfully young ensign sat there. "I need to send out a Flash priority message..."

* * * * * * * * *

Spearhead
16:18 ZULU

"And then he actually asked me if I wanted to go back to his place and see his 'pistol'!"

"Boys and their toys, Sam, boys and their toys." Colonel Amanda Lewis drawled wryly.

Brigadier General Samantha Carter grinned. "You forget who you're talking to, Colonel."

Lewis gave a pretty good imitation of abashment. "Sorry, General, sir! I forgot the General likes her toys just as much as any of the swinging dicks, General, sir!"

Carter gave a snort of laughter. "You were never a tomboy, Amanda?"

Lewis shook her head. "I was raised as a proper lady, trained in the fine arts of dress sense and make-up. At eighteen, my mother was mortified to find out that in addition to keeping lipstick in my purse, I also carrying a Colt .45." She gave a Cheshire grin. "Daddy caught holy hell that day I can tell you."

"Your Dad?" Carter asked curiously.

Lewis shrugged. "If I ever did anything wrong, it was Daddy's fault. At least in my mother's eyes. She refused to believe her little princess could be packing heat without the outside influence of her fairly liberated and therefore plainly evil father."

"Guess I was lucky in that respect...being an Air Force brat an all that." Carter replied.

"Yeah..." Lewis nodded. "But then you had to put up with the whole following in the footsteps crap."

"Tell me about it..." Carter replied with feeling. "Dad has mellowed a lot with age and, of course, Selmak but boy, did he ever used to be one son of a..."

"GENERAL CARTER, REPORT TO CNC IMMEDIATELY! GENERAL CARTER TO THE CNC IMMEDIATELY!"

Heads all around the Mess Hall whipped around to look at the General. "Hell..." Carter grimaced.

"Nobody's out on ops, are there?" Lewis asked as she got up with General Carter and made their way quickly from the Mess Hall to the Command Center.

"Uh-huh. We're on stand-down since everyone shipped out to Gryphon." Carter replied as they fairly ran up the steps and into the Command Center proper.

"Report." She ordered. Sergeant Harris spun in his chair and pointed towards the communication station.

The communication sergeant sat there pointed to his screen. "Incoming message from Admiral Kent, ma'am...he reports five Motherships just dropped out of hyperspace and are closing straight in on Third Fleet!"

Carter paled slightly as she read the screen over the sergeant's shoulder but she quickly got herself under control and started barking orders. "Put the base on Alert Two status. Put SG-Alpha and Gamma on notice to stand to and get General O'Neill on the line..."

* * * * * * * * *

White House Signals Office.
16:22 ZULU

Major Sanford placed her cup of coffee down as the computer started to display an incoming Flash priority message. Immediately she picked up the phone and called her boss, a Brigadier General who was sat in his office, painfully completing the masses of paperwork the Federal government generates.

"Ford." A voice replied.

"Sir, I have an incoming Flash priority message for the President."

General Ford was stood behind her in mere seconds as the message appeared on the screen, having been sent through the Alliance's long-range communication device network.

The message read;

Z162232ZOCT

TOP SECRET

FM: ADMIRAL KENT, CO 3RDFLEET, GRYPHON SECTOR

TO: CWC, NCA, JCS, ADMFLEET, SAC-SGC, SGC-WEST, SGC-EAST, SPEARHEAD

GOAULDFLEETOPS
1.REPORT FIVE SHALKRA CLASS MOTHERSHIPS ENTERING GRYPHON SYSTEM 1610Z 27OCT.
2.CURRENTLY ENGAGING 3RDFLEET, ALONG WITH SUPPORTING ELEMENTS OF 1STFLEET, 2NDFLEET AND PLANETARY DEFENSES.
3.GRYPHON MILITARY AT DEFENSE CONDITION ONE.
4.CONFIDENCE OF SUCCESSFUL DEFENSE LOW.
5.LIKELYHOOD OF COMPLETE PLANETARY INVASION HIGH.
6.ADVISE INTIATION OF PRECAUTIONS COMMENSURATE WITH DEFENSE OF ALL COMMANDS IN CASE OF GENERAL OFFENSIVE BY GOAULD FLEET.

THEY'LL KNOW THEY WERE IN A FIGHT, SIR - ADMIRAL KENT

Z162232ZOCT

General Ford read the Flash message, his lips set in a thin white line. "Hell."

Gryphon orbit
16:30 ZULU

The blue and green orb of Gryphon filled the view of the starboard bridge viewports of all the ships in Third Fleet. Silently and gracefully, they moved relatively slowly in a manner that the old Earth scientist Sir Isaac Newton would be familiar with. An observer from space would see the stately calm and precision with which the ships flew, a calm that belied the nerve shattering tension that was building up onboard each of the ships.

Onboard the ENS Ark Royal, klaxons blared and officers and enlisted crew alike moved swiftly to their posts, each wondering whether they would survive the upcoming battle. It was a question that Admiral Kent refused to consider.

"Tactical, how far out are the Motherships?" The Admiral enquired as he stepped away from the communications console.

"Three light minutes out and closing fast. Time to contact...eighteen minutes." Commander Farrow replied.

Admiral Kent studied the Flag Plot tactical hologram that dominated the circular Command Center and frowned. Five Shal'kra class Motherships were nothing to mess with. Quite frankly, Third Fleet didn't stand a chance in hell of defeating all of them but hopefully, they might be able to destroy one, possibly two of the Motherships, reducing their assets and giving the Gryphon a chance at fighting off the Jaffa Legions that were onboard each of those vessels.

Moving over to his chair, Admiral Kent pressed a button on the armrest control pad, opening a communication channel to the bridge of the Ark Royal where his Flag Captain, Amanda Tyler, was running the ship. "Captain Tyler, take Group Alpha out of orbit and take us to Point Zulu."

Group Alpha consisted of the majority of Third Fleet; the carrier Ark Royal, two battleships, the Shinano and the Prometheus and six destroyers. Group Beta was made up of the still slightly damaged battleship Montana, and another eight destroyers. Group Delta was the majority of the ground-based fighter and bomber complement, almost eighty strong.

"Yes, sir." Unseen over the audio only channel, Captain Tyler nodded her head in understanding and moved to comply with the orders. Point Zulu was a preset location in space, 20,000km from the planet Gryphon on the same reciprocal bearing as the incoming Goa'uld Motherships.

"Communications..." Kent called out. "Contact the 'Montana' and tell Captain Frost to get his ship clear of the shipyard and Gryphon and hooked up with Group Beta as soon as possible."

Commander Farrow, the Tactical Action Officer, stepped up next to the Admiral. "Group Alpha's green to engage, Admiral.

Kent nodded grimly as he studied the tactical display again. "We'll go with Alamo Three, Andrew. The Motherships are coming in fat, dumb and happy. At five minutes from contact we'll send Group Beta round their flank and see if we can get him to split his force up. Have Group Delta form up on the far side of the planet, I want them hidden from the Goa'uld sensors for as long as possible."

As his subordinates moved to comply with his orders, Admiral Kent watch the icons on the tactical display change to reflect the fleet components following his orders.

"All right, you buggers," Kent whispered under his breath, "...I've made my move, now let's see yours."

* * * * * * * *

Hek'at was sat on the bridge 'throne' of his ship, 'Fist of the Gods' as he watched the Tau'ri fleet deploy, the main force had begun interposing itself between his Motherships and the planet, and a secondary force of still significant strength was moving in a long curving path around to hit his right flank.

Dre'tec turned from the main control panel to look at the First Prime. "Shall we send some of our fleet to intercept that flanking force?"

Hek'at considered the idea briefly but discarded it just as quickly. "No, if we split our forces, we dilute our firepower. Maintain formation, I want all our vessels concentrated together, providing mutual protection for each other. We shall continue towards the primary group of Tau'ri vessels but launch the first wave of udajeets and send them to intercept the secondary force. Hold the second wave in reserve."

"As you command, First Prime." Dre'tec replied.

* * * * * * * *

Strategic Operations Center, Wakazi Base

General O'Neill was stood at the communication console, talking to a fuzzy image of Carter, who was at Spearhead.

"Sir, I think it's time for you to leave." She suggested.

O'Neill was already shaking his head. "No way, Carter, not yet. I need to see this thing through."

Sam, seeing his determination, tried another tactic. "Dammit, Jack, you can't make a difference in this fight, you'll only be a distraction!"

Jack took a deep breath and tried to explain his need to remain behind, even it was for a short while. "Sam, this is the Alliance's first serious test of all of defensive plans, equipment and ideas. I need to see how this is going to work...where are the weak spots? How will the Goa'uld react? I need to see these things firsthand, Sam."

Carter looked away in frustration and more than a little understanding. "I want you out of there as soon as you've seen enough, Jack. I mean it. The Alliance can't afford to lose you."

"I'll be on the last wormhole out, I promise." Jack replied. "O'Neill clear."

He cut the connection and moved back towards the tactical hologram at the far end of the room where General Roberts was in deep discussion with the King and Queen.

"Your Highness, I think it best that the both of you return to Edo...unless of course you intend to evacuate to Earth?" Roberts finished, slightly hopeful that they might give in this time.

Anne glared at her General. "Tadeshi, we are not leaving Gryphon! If you want us to go to the Palace then fair enough but we will not leave Gryphon while our people fight for its existence, understood?"

A slightly abashed Roberts nodded and turned to Jack. "I don't suppose I'll be getting rid of your distinguished presence anytime soon either, eh?"

O'Neill shook his head. "I'm gonna stay here and monitor the situation for as long as possible."

Roberts sighed and turned to face an approaching aide who gave him a datapad. He scrolled through it and nodded to himself. "The planet's on full alert, the civilians are making for the shelters, the defense cannons and city shields are coming on-line and the ground forces are heading for their defense positions."

"What about the fleet?" O'Neill asked.

Everyone turned to the tactical hologram, which showed the numerous blips of the orbiting Third Fleet moving in two formations towards five large, red icons denoting the Shal'kra Motherships. The red icons blurred slightly as a cloud of smaller red lips signaled the launch of their regular udajeet complements.

"They're engaging the Goa'uld." Roberts replied simply.

* * * * * * * * *

Combat Information Center, ENS Shinano

Captain Francine Renato grabbed a hold of the handrail near her command chair as her battleship, the ENS Shinano, rocked from the first impacts of Goa'uld energy blasts against her shields.

"Helm, come right ten degrees. Guns, get ready for a port broadside!" She ordered, feeling more than a little guilty excitement. Navy ships back on Earth hadn't exchange broadsides in decades, now here she was, light years from Earth giving that exact order. She wondered briefly if she'd ever have to give the order to repel boarders.

"Helm, right ten degrees, aye!"

"Guns, port broadside, ready!"

On the tactical display of the CIC, the forward destroyer screen accelerated past the Goa'uld ships, all four vessels concentrating their fire upon a single Shal'kra Mothership the tactical computers had designated Hostile 3. Its shields coruscated in silver and gold energy but they held even as its own guns spat orange fire right back at the destroyers. Captain Renato smiled grimly as she watched the Goa'uld fire track the destroyers even as they headed away from the fight; this allowed the Shinano to close the range with a minimal of incoming fire.

"Guns, target Hostile 3 and fire!" She commanded.

* * * * * * * * *

Eight of the ten twin turrets on the Shinano rocked with recoil as they fired in a single broadside, sending a wave of blue white bolts of ionized plasma towards the Goa'uld Mothership. Despite the enormous velocities involved, the gunnery officer's accuracy was superb and all of the ion bolts flew straight and true. If the Mothership, Hostile 3, had shrugged off the destroyer screen's fire as mere bee stings, the fire from the Shinano carried the punch of a heavyweight boxer.

The Mothership seemed to stagger in space from the sheer impact. In two small sections where the bolts had concentrated, the shields had partially failed, allowing some of the energies involved to reach the hull, destroying two sensor arrays, one weapon mount and damaging part of the Motherships shield grid. The Jaffa commander onboard snarled in anger as he ordered all weapons to ignore the destroyers and target the battleship.

Orange fire blazed from three of the Motherships and flew with equal accuracy towards the Shinano, which had flew past the formation of Motherships and was trying put some space between them. The energy blasts slammed into the rear section of the Shinano, her shields absorbing every shot except for the last three blasts which impacted on the engines of the battleship, shattering armor, machinery, electronics and crew with equal ease. Three of her nine engines sputtered and died as explosions rippled across her aft hull.

* * * * * * * * *

Sparks burst randomly out of exposed panels and blown light fixtures, a small fire was building up out of a shattered engineering console and the ceiling had collapsed in several places, smashing equipment and officers with equal devastation.

Picking herself up from the deck, Captain Renato suppressed a cry of pain as her shoulder blazed in agony. "Damage report!" She bit out.

Her executive officer was leaning over the dead body of her navigator who was lying under a collapsed bulkhead. He looked up at the Captain and heaved himself upwards, moving towards the nearest display panel. Rapidly accessing secondary systems, Commander Frank Stevens managed to get a quick rundown of the ships status according to the main computer. "Engineering doesn't respond but Damage Control Central reports engines 1, 4 and 7 are damaged beyond repair, aft shields are down and the turrets on the engine section are out of commission. We have massive hull breaches throughout the engineering hull, DC teams are enroute, internal bulkheads have closed and air pressure is holding. Casualty reports are coming in from all decks...forty-eight confirmed dead, another twenty-nine are unaccounted for."

Renato winced and moved over to the tactical display. The Motherships were still moving towards the planet and were engaged in a firefight with the Prometheus and the six destroyers with the help of the combined bomber squadrons from the Ark Royal and the battleships. The secondary force of the Montana and the other eight destroyers were mixing it up with the entire udajeet complement of five Shal'kra class Motherships, all in all, close to three hundred Death Gliders. For all their numbers though, the limited experience of the Jaffa pilots meant that the battle-hardened veteran pilots of the Ark Royal and Third Fleet cut a bloody swath through their formations with liberal use of the AFM's. The blip on the tactical display that represented the Prometheus flashed yellow, indicating accumulating damage.

Admiral Kent's plan hadn't worked. Splitting the fleet up in order to entice the Goa'uld fleet to follow suit had made sense, risky though it was. The plan, however, relied on the belief that the Goa'uld fleet commander would be gullible enough to split his fleet, allowing the Earth Navy to take them apart, piecemeal. Apparently, the enemy commander was one cagey son of a bitch who recognized the overwhelming firepower advantage his Motherships possessed if they remained tightly grouped.

"Helm, bring us about! The Prometheus needs our help." She ordered with a wince. Attacking that formation of Motherships was like running headfirst into a brick wall but the Shinano had done it once and gotten a bloody nose for her trouble. Maybe they could survive doing it a second time.

The ensign on the 'battle helm' of the CIC, tapped her controls and the deck of the Shinano heaved slightly as she began to turn. "Helm's sluggish, Ma'am. We've lost most of our aft maneuvering thrusters. I'm having a hard time bringing her around..."

"I don't care!" Renato snapped. Her shoulder hurt like hell. "Just haul this bitch around and do it quickly." She turned away from the startled ensign and glared at the gunnery officer. "I want everything you've got on Hostile 3 as soon as we bring your guns to bear."

The officer simply nodded gravely. "You'll get it, ma'am, even if I have to lean out the window and spit at them."

As the gunnery officer moved away to organize his batteries, her executive officer came up beside her and began to fuss over her arm. "Ma'am, let's get that arm seen to."

"Screw the arm, Frank! I need you to get down to engineering and see who's keeping the rest of our engines on-line. Since we can't raise anybody, it may just be that the comm-links are down. Find out, all right? I need our aft shields back!"

The Exec nodded firmly and staggered out of the smoke filled CIC.

Renato turned to face the tactical display as the gunnery officer turn in his chair slightly. "We're ranging on Hostile 3, ma'am!"

"Fire!" Captain Renato ordered hoarsely.

* * * * * * * * * *

Admiral Kent gripped the handrail tightly and an almost moan of despair passed through the CIC he watched the Montana shudder under the combine fire of two Motherships and silently explode. His ships, though individually inferior were usually able to overcome Goa'uld ships with superior numbers and tactics. Unfortunately, the Goa'uld refused to split his forces as they had done so many times in the past. One bright spot was that these Shal'kra class Motherships appeared to be non-standard. Their weapons complement appeared to be slightly weaker than usual. Oh, the fire they were receiving was bad enough but it should have been even worse. The analysts were of the opinion that the Goa'uld were sacrificing weaponry in order to boost their shields and armor, which did appear to be stronger than usual.

By all rights, Kent should have cut his losses already and withdrawn from an untenable position and oh, by the way, consigning the Gryphon system and three billion people to Goa'uld attack and subjugation. No one could blame him, hell, he had explicit orders to do just that but he couldn't. Not until he had managed to hurt the Goa'uld force to such a degree that the Gryphon ground defense forces had a chance of holding off the attack.

"Commander Farrow..." The Admiral called out. "...What's the status of the Goa'uld Death Glider forces?"

Farrow glanced over at the nearby Flight Ops station and the Lt Commander there passed a data pad to him. Farrow read the pad and his eyes narrowed. "Admiral, we've accounted for almost the Death Gliders. And they haven't launched any fresh fighters for the past ten minutes. I think we've got them all."

Admiral Kent nodded and took a deep breath. Although it had taken a terrible toll of Group Delta and the loss of the Captain Frost and the Montana, they had cleared the battlefield of enemy Death Gliders, now Third Fleet could concentrate on killing those Motherships. If it wasn't for the fact that Third Fleet lacked the strength to do it.

Commander Farrow had walked over to the Admiral gestured to the tactical display. "Hostile 3 and, to a lesser extent, Hostile 4 has taken a massive battering at the hands of Group Alpha. But both the battleships Prometheus and Shinano and the remaining destroyers have had to pull back to the Ark Royal with heavy damage. Group Beta was in a position to attack their flank but with the Montana gone..." The TAO shrugged helplessly.

Kent shook his head. "Regroup every bird we've got and send them in one coordinated strike against Hostiles 3 and 4."

* * * * * * * * * *

Captain Walter 'Ghost' Scott grunted heavily as he reefed his Sabre into an ever-tightening circle. Almost exactly opposite him was a Jaffa pilot doing the exact same thing as they went round and round, trying to get on the other's tail for a clear and deadly shot. The dogfight between the combined fighters of Groups Alpha and Beta against the Jaffa Death Gliders had degenerated rapidly into chaos and fairly early on in the battle he had become separated from his wingman, Lt Commander 'Razor' Stephanovich. In atmospheric and space combat, to fly alone is to almost guarantee a deadly surprise from your enemy and so he had quickly found another lone fighter, a pilot call-signed 'Hawk' from the 18th Tactical Squadron on the Montana.

After bouncing a flight of Death Gliders and dispatching them with a volley of AFM's, they had found themselves under attack by four more udajeets. Working together, Ghost and Hawk had managed to kill two of the Jaffa fighters but then Hawk had swung left when he should have swung right and flew into the sights of the third Death Glider, who summarily blew him to pieces. Ghost had avenged his short-time wingman almost immediately but had then found the remaining Death Glider screaming in on his rear, lining up for a shot. Unhesitatingly, Razor yanked his fighter around, pushing its inertial dampers to their limit and initiated this swirling duel. For almost a minute the two fighters performed this deadly ballet until Ghost caught a flicker out of the corner of his eye and got the impression of a missile streaking across his field of view. The Death Glider blossomed into an explosion, a small scattering of wreckage continuing on in an endless journey into deep space.

"What the...?" Scott exclaimed.

A familiar voice carried into his headset that lifted his heart. "Howdy boss...sorry I'm late, I got caught in traffic."

"Razor, where the hell have you been?" He called out, half relieved and half angered.

"Easy, boss..." Lt Commander Stephanovich replied with a tight grin. "There was about half a Cohort between me and you after we were separated. Wasn't real wise to try and punch through without some support, ya'know?"

"Support?" Scott asked, eyes going wide as a ragtag formation of Sabre fighters and Pegasus bombers flew past his fighter. Pulling an inside loop, he re-joined the formation with Stephanovich back on his wing.

"I'm not reading the Montana on my scopes, boss..." Razor announced hesitantly.

"I know, Razor, I know." He replied soberly. Flying straight and level, he took the opportunity to work the kinks out of his hands as the computer beeped, signaling an incoming transmission.

"All fighters and bombers, this the Flag. Regroup at waypoint 'kappa' and prepare for a 'Sierra Strike'. Squadron leaders, targeting assignments are being downloaded to you now. Good hunting, people."

* * * * * * * * * *

Hek'at, First Prime to Bast, sat back in his chair with undisguised satisfaction. His invasion fleet of five Shal'kra class Motherships were battered, one in particular having been brutally hit but was still functional, and though his initial udajeet force of two hundred and seventy five had been reduced to a eighteen, the Tau'ri forces had suffered massive casualties to achieve it. Though many of their fighter and bomber squadrons remained fairly intact, little over half of their battleships and destroyers remained combat capable.

Hek'at's Second moved up beside him. "First Prime, the remaining Tau'ri ships have pulled back and their fighters and bombers have regrouped. They appear to be readying for a counter-attack..."

The First Prime smiled fiercely. The time had come to spring his surprise. "Launch the second wave of udajeets."

* * * * * * * * * *

Queen Anne of the Sword watched the strategic display with a chilled heart, her face pale and her lips compressed into a thin, bloodless line. For the past fifteen minutes, she had watched Third Fleet steadily fall back under the onslaught from the Goa'uld Motherships. The combined Terran and Gryphonese ships had fought with every ounce of skill they had possessed and had virtually annihilated the massive cloud of Death Gliders the Motherships had launched at the beginning of the fight. Now the blood drained from her face as the display showed a new, equally large cloud of over three hundred Death Gliders erupt from the launch bays of the Motherships like hornets streaming from a disturbed nest.

"Aww crap." O'Neill spoke flatly. "Communications open a channel to Admiral Kent."

A young Gryphonese technician nodded once in acknowledgement. "Channel open, General."

"It's O'Neill, Admiral. You've done all you can, now get the hell of here!"

A small window appeared on the tactical display screen and Admiral Kent's grim visage appeared. "General..."

"No arguing, Kent!" O'Neill cut in, adamantly. "There's nothing more you can do for us here!"

The Admiral, standing in the CIC onboard the Ark Royal two hundred thousand miles away, frowned and spoke reluctantly. "Very well, sir, the fleet will withdraw but I'm ordering all my pilots to land on Gryphon. You'll need all the air support you can get."

O'Neill smiled faintly in agreement. "Thank you, Admiral."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Admiral Kent closed the connection and looked at the viewscreen that displayed the blue green orb of Gryphon. The officers and technicians of the CIC looked silently at one another, the situation of having to abandon an entire planet being entirely abhorrent to these professional warriors but knowing they had no other choice left them feeling sick with shame and regret.

Commander Farrow scanned the room, meeting the eyes of his staff and sighed. The tactical hologram beeped an alert as the cloud of fresh Jaffa Death Gliders approached extreme weapons range. "Admiral, if we're going to leave..."

Admiral Kent inclined his head in agreement, feeling every year of his age and took a deep breath, as if to gather the last of his reserves. "Fleet orders!" he called out. "I want destroyers squadron 1 and 3 to screen the Shinano, 2 and 5 covers the Prometheus and squadron 4 stays with the Ark Royal. We'll provide covering fire against the Death Gliders till the battleships can make the jump to hyperspace."

A chorus of 'aye, Admiral' rang back as the CIC moved into action. The Admiral gestured at Commander Farrow and the TAO stepped close as Kent spoke quietly. "Contact the fighters, let them know they'll be staying behind as we discussed."

More than one ops plan had been sketched out and, of course, they had considered the option of having the fighters remain to bolster the few Gryphon planetary squadrons.

Commander Farrow nodded. "Aye, Admiral."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Hek'at watched with breathtaking pleasure as the battered remnants of the Tau'ri fleet ran from his carefully hoarded udajeets. When Bast had first suggested the use of 'carrier' Motherships, consciously mimicking the Tau'ri vessels, he had been wary. The idea was contrary to every philosophy he was brought up to believe in. Ironically, it was that very reaction that persuaded him that it was worth a try for the Tau'ri had constantly defeated the Jaffa Legions in battle after battle unless the System Lords used overwhelming numbers or copied Tau'ri tactics, which obviously worked.

And the 'carrier' concept had worked. He had defeated the Tau'ri fleet and now all that was left was to proceed against the planet and secure the Stargate.

"Dre'tec, as soon as the Tau'ri dogs leave the system, recall all of the udajeets and hold this position while we take a moment to see to our damage."

The Jaffa Second inclined his head respectfully but hesitated as an idea suggested itself. "Perhaps we should send some of the udajeets to the planet? It would be wise to see if there are any planetary defenses before we bring our Motherships within their range."

Hek'at smiled broadly. "An excellent idea. Send an echelon against each of the eight largest cities. That ought to elicit a reaction."

As Dre'tec moved to send out the orders, Hek'at walked away from the central display and towards the command throne. Pulling out a small golden sphere, he sat down and waited patiently.

Less than a minute later, the golden sphere seemed to ripple with energy and small hologram of Bast, barely eight inches tall, appeared in the palm of his hand. Hek'at lowered his head respectfully but his eyes glittered with unsuppressed joy. "My Queen, the Tau'ri fleet has been defeated and we now move against Gryphon."

Though small, the hologram showed excellent detail, with barely any signal degradation. "Wonderful, my First Prime. Things are going well for a change." Bast replied with equal glee.

Hek'at looked at the hologram questioningly.

Bast chuckled slightly. "I'll give you the details later but I believe that the Tau'ri have lost one of their greatest assets and I don't mean the planet of Gryphon. I believe I know what has happened to the Asgard and I've ordered Lady Asphe'kaht to confirm my hypothesis."

Hek'at remembered the conversation they had had about the lack of Asgard vessels in the Galaxy at the moment and that the only way to prove their pre-occupation would be to... "My Queen! The risk...!" Her First Prime exclaimed.

Bast nodded more soberly. "Yes, its definitely a risk. Assuming I'm wrong, of course, but I've come into some information that makes me supremely confident in our survival."

Hek'at took a deep breath and let it out, praying that his lover knew what she was doing. "Who have you chosen for this test?"

With a low, dark chuckle, Bast gave a feral smile. "Cimmeria."

* * * * * * * * * * *

O'Neill watched the strategic display with a heavy heart as the tattered remnants of the Third Fleet disappeared one by one as the jumped to hyperspace on a course for Earth. The Sabre's and Pegasus's that stayed behind flew at breakneck speed towards Gryphon, unchecked by the Goa'uld Motherships that appeared to have taken up station several planetary diameters away from Gryphon. General Roberts had suggested they were taking the time to pull themselves together and enact any repairs. Though they hadn't lost any ships, a couple of their vessels had taken considerable damage and were leaking atmosphere and trailing wreckage.

Though, even as he watched, one of the Motherships moved towards Gryphon. Several squadrons of udajeets flew before it, cautiously testing the waters as it gained speed.

General Roberts stepped away from an intense discussion over a video-link with the King and Queen who were now at the Imperial Palace and looked at the display as alarms sounded. "Run a track on that Mothership, I want to know where it's headed immediately."

One of the technicians was already busy running a projection. The General had barely given the order before the display updated itself, a thick red band showing the path the vessel had taken to date and a dotted line that showed the path it was on, assuming no course or speed changes.

"It's heading straight for Wakazi Base, General." The technician announced. Fairly uselessly, O'Neill thought, since the dotted line ended up smack in the middle of the military district. "We have more Death Gliders launching, they appear to be heading for various cities around the planet."

"Order the PDC's to hold their fire until the Mothership comes to within 40 kilometers of the surface." Roberts ordered.

The CO of the Wakazi base, a Commander Hida, glanced at General Roberts with concern. "That's well within weapons range, theirs and ours." He spoke.

Roberts nodded. "This will be the first test of the Sintesian Planetary Defense system. I want to get my money's worth."

Everybody waited for several more minutes as the Mothership closed the distance. As the Death Gliders entered extreme weapons range of Wakazi Base and the various cities, O'Neill looked warily at General Roberts, who still hadn't ordered the raising of the city shields. Raising them would instantly alert the Jaffa commander as to the presence of a defense system and Roberts wanted to draw them in instead of scaring them off but he was risking damage to the civilian population.

"General..." O'Neill spoke out softly, warningly.

General Roberts held his hand up but moved forward toward the Defense System controller. "Ready shields..." He called out.

The controller acknowledged the order but didn't do anything, his people in the room and at the other twenty PDC's had been ready for the past hour.

As the Death Gliders approached optimum firing range, Roberts closed his fist and pounded the back of his chair once. "Raise the shields. Gunners, you have weapons release, fire at will!"

* * * * * * * * *

Onboard the 'Fist of the Gods', Hek'at paled as the displays showed fairly powerful shields winking into existence above numerous cities around the planet.

"First Prime..." Dre'tec spoke hesitantly.

Hek'at fairly leaped out of the command throne. "Order the 'War Sword' to fall back and get those udajeets out of there!"

A Jaffa at the sensor station saw energy signatures in the Wakazi Base increase by several orders of magnitude. "Energy spike from the surface!"

Everyone on the bridge watched helplessly as numerous ion cannons belched white fire that flew upwards with tremendous speed and slammed into the 'War Sword'. Its shield coruscated with barely suppressed energies. The commander onboard was shocked but responded with the training and initiative that Hek'at had instilled in all of his Mothership commanders. As the 'War sword' shook violently, the Jaffa commander ordered evasive maneuvers and for all weapons to fire on the ground installations.

Orange fire blossomed from the gun ports of the Shal'kra class Mothership and flew down, into the atmosphere of Gryphon and impacting against the canopy shield, high above Wakazi.

Technicians in the Wakazi command center winced as the shield power levels dropped noticeably.

A second volley of ion cannon fire rose up from Wakazi and crashed against the 'War Sword' like a tidal wave. Its shields collapsed and it hull was torn and ruptured, spewing atmosphere and bodies. Explosions rippled along its flanks and it slewed drunkenly as all drive control was lost.

A third volley swept upwards and, undeterred by energy shields, slammed into the Mothership, which seemed to freeze in place for a second before bursting forth in flame like a new born star.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Wild cheers rose up in the command center as General Roberts leaned against the back of his chair, seemingly drained of energy. O'Neill up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Good work, Tadeshi." He congratulated the other man.

General Roberts grinned in satisfaction. "That was for Third Fleet."

* * * * * * * * * * *

"Fek'shoa!" Hek'at slammed his fist off of a nearby console and fought against the urge rip the tactical display from its mount, and throw it across the room.

"Signal all ships, I want them to fall in behind 'Fist of the Gods' immediately! We're going in!" Hek'at ordered and he pushed the Jaffa at the helm to one side. "Follow this course." He added, inputting a navigational plot that took the remaining four Motherships down into the atmosphere of Gryphon, avoiding Wakazi by a fairly wide curving course, to land at a point nearly one hundred kilometers away.

"We're landing?" Dre'tec asked in surprise. The display showed the numerous udajeets aborting their attack runs after the ion cannons sent a volley up after them. Only a few were destroyed, mainly due to surprise but most easily evaded the shots and screamed into high orbit.

"We have no choice!" Hek'at snarled in reply. "Those damned defenses will pummel us if we try to fire at them from orbit. No, we're going to have to do this the hard way."

"A ground assault." The Second finished in understanding.

Hek'at stalked back to the command throne and sat down heavily, regaining his calm but feeling ever so weary. "We still have almost 40 Legions amongst our remaining vessels. Enough to take that base in a ground attack and capture the Chappa'ai."

As one, the Motherships increased power to the engines and moved forward warily.

Chapter 5
The Fifth Race

16:55 ZULU
October 28th, 2009
High orbit, Cimmeria (Asgard Protected Planet)

Two Hat'ak Motherships glided serenely and unharrassed into a stable orbit above the largest continent on the planet, directly above the location of the Chappa'ai and the nearby population centers and low-tech savages.

Lady Asphe'kaht smiled fiercely at the holographic display of the Asgard protected world.

Her First Prime turned from the central console of the bridge and faced his Queen. "My Lady, we have an incoming transmission from the largest village near the Chappa'ai. It's on an Asgard frequency."

Hiding her immense anxiety, she gave her Jaffa a stately nod. "I shall hear what the gray ones have to say."

Bowing slightly, the First Prime turned back to the console and ran a hand across its glowing surface. The hidden speakers on the bridge crackled slightly and the smooth, resonant tones of the Asgard filtered clearly across the bridge.

"This world is under the protection of the Asgard. Goa'uld vessel, you have no business here. Withdraw."

After it appeared that that was as far as the warning went, Lady Asphe'kaht smiled. "Are we picking up any Asgard warships, any vessels, any Asgard life signs on the surface?"

The First Prime shook his head silently.

Lady Asphe'kaht's smile turned deadly. "Then begin your bombardment."

* * * * * * * * * *

09:38 ZULU
October 29th, 2009

Colonel Avon, fully clad in his Combat Armour but with his helmet retracted, walked along the trench line, listening to the subdued chatter of the soldiers, stepping by the ones lying on their packs, trying to sleep, nodding greetings and the small groups playing cards, rolling dice or simply reading a book.

The four remaining Goa'uld Motherships had landed almost 100 kilometers from Wakazi, in the Tensi Flatlands and ever since then, the skies had held host to several air battles between Death Gliders and Sabres. Unfortunately, neither side could claim air superiority, meaning that the important battles were going to be fought on the ground.

The commander of SG-Omega came across an observation point where two Gryphon Army regulars were stood, heads barely above ground level, scanning the terrain with electro-binoculars. Avon greeted the two men and impulsively jumped up on the platform beside them.

"See anything new, gents?" Avon asked lightly.

The two observers chuckled but shook their heads. "Only if you count three more Legions in the past two hours." One replied wryly.

Avon frowned and raised a hand to his neck, pressing a small, flush-set button and activating his helmet. In less than a second, it had deployed around his head and had activated its in-built 150x magnification scope.

In the distance, less than thirty kilometers away according to the laser range finder, thousands of Jaffa were arrayed in formation, supported by ranks of Scorpion-class attack vehicles which could carry up to fifty Jaffa and Beetle-Class dedicated troop transports which could carry five hundred. Death Gliders flew lazy circles overhead, on guard for any fighter or bomber attacks.

For the past two days, they had watched Hek'at deploy his Legions and transport them over seventy kilometers, to a staging point outside the range of the light ion cannon artillery. The Gryphon army had numerous old-style ballistic artillery pieces and for almost an hour, they had rain fire down upon the columns of Jaffa as soon as they had entered their eighty-kilometer range. Impressive as the barrage was, the obsolete munitions couldn't deliver enough firepower to overcome the 'formation' shields the Jaffa commander had already deployed.

"You think they'll attack soon, sir?" The other observer asked. He looked all of eighteen years old.

Avon nodded. "I'm surprised they've waited this long. I would've attacked six hours ago, at dawn."

"Maybe they've got a reason to wait, sir...any idea what that might be?" The first observer asked, looking no older than his friend.

"Not a clue, soldier." Avon lied. "All I really need to know is that you boys are gonna be ready when they come calling..."

The two young soldiers looked at each other and then looked at the Colonel from another planet, who was risking his butt to help save their. "You can count on us, sir."

Colonel Avon patted them both on the shoulder in a gesture of solidarity and leapt lightly down from the platform. He'd didn't think it wise to tell them that the Jaffa in front of them were waiting to attack because the rest of the Jaffa Legions were completing an enveloping maneuver, completely surrounding Wakazi. There were only 12,000 men and women defending Wakazi, as opposed to over 36,000 Jaffa that would soon come sweeping over them in an unstoppable tidal wave of destruction. A few thousand Jaffa had headed towards the city-shipyards of Manticore but it appeared that Hek'at's main object was going to be the Stargate and nothing was going to distract him from that objective.

Especially the Gryphon Army.

His helmet audio let out a small beep and a voice sent resonate from somewhere in the center of his head. "Omega-Six, this General O'Neill. Kerr, you may want to think about getting to your unit. We're picking up serious activity within the Jaffa lines. I think they're ready to make their move."

Colonel Avon picked up his pace to that of a steady jog and moved steadily along the trench lines, his helmet displaying visual cues, allowing him to find his way among the labyrinthine trench network. "Acknowledged, General."

* * * * * * * * *

O'Neill paced the Command Center in frustration. As a line soldier, he could always work through his frustration by checking out his gear one more time, or by a dozen other methods that were denied to him here, in the Command Center, as a general of troops. All the preparations were done, all the plans and strategies made...all that they waited for now, was for Hek'at to get his act together and attack.

"Easy, Jack." General Roberts said softly as he approached to other man. "We also serve those who stand and wait..."

O'Neill smiled unwillingly. "Been reading our literature again, Tadeshi?"

Tadeshi Roberts grinned in reply. "You Earthers have some strange ideas but one or two of them have some merit."

"Glad you liked 'em." O'Neill muttered as his eyes fell on the massive wall display, it showed the movement amongst the Jaffa increasing in intensity. "I wish I was on the line."

Roberts opened his mouth to reply when a sensor officer called out an alert. "I show multiple launches from the Motherships."

"How many Death Gliders, son?" Roberts asked instead.

"Err...all of them, it looks like, General." The officer reported tightly. "Computers put it at over two hundred."

"The Jaffa are moving forward, sir!" Another officer called out.

"Launch the ready squadrons. Have the CAP wait until they're reinforced by the ready planes and have them all intercept the Death Gliders using AFM's only, no short range weaponry. I want NO dogfighting. Just one long-range strike to whittle down their numbers and then back to base." Roberts ordered calmly. Now that the balloon had gone up, both he and O'Neill were like surgeons in an operating theatre. No over-the-top emotions, just calm, informed decision-making.

O'Neill stepped over to the secondary displays and studied the approaching formations. The Jaffa were advancing in their Scorpions and Beetles at a steady forty miles per hour. The massed formations of bug-like vehicles were like an invasion of over-sized insects. "The Jaffa will be in contact in less than thirty minutes."

Roberts nodded. "We've no room for subtlety or tricks. We're going for Plan Bastion." He announced.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Plan Bastion?" One of the younger Gryphon Privates asked dumbly. "Which one was that again?"

The Gryphon Sergeant beside him bounced a fist off of his helmet. "Next time, pay attention to the briefings."

Though things looked grim, the Sergeant couldn't help but chuckle. "Luckily for you, Bastion's the simplest of the canned plans." He pointed in the direction of the Jaffa army. "You see those Jaffa out there, Private Oeda?"

Private Oeda nodded jerkily and the Sergeant gestured to the weapon Oeda was carrying. "You take that rifle, Private Oeda, and you shoot it at the oncoming hordes of the Jaffa. And you keep shooting until you don't see anymore Jaffa. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Oeda responded eagerly.

"Don't call me 'sir', Private, I work for a living." He replied distastefully.

* * * * * * * * * *

Main Entrance, Wakazi Base
9:55 ZULU

Colonel Avon rounded the final trench and reached the rest of his men near the main entrance to Wakazi Base. He was met by the sight of Captain Jonas Quinn bent over the seated form of Sergeant Pappas of 1st Platoon. Being fully armored, you wouldn't normally be able to tell who was behind the armored suits but IFF transponders allowed the onboard computer systems of the suit to overlay information to the user and the name, 'PAPPAS, W. SGT' was glowing in small letters in front of the man. The Sergeant was rotating his helmeted head in all directions, obviously having a problem with neck flexibility. Major Capini, his 2IC and Lt Heinreich, the 1st Platoon commander were stood to one side, watching Quinn perform basic maintenance on the Sergeant.

"There, that should do it." Quinn announced as he stepped back with the body language of mild satisfaction.

Sgt Pappas stood and flexed his head once more. "Yep. That did it, sir. Thanks."

The group focused on Colonel Avon as he moved in and Major Capini stepped forward. "Pappas had a little trouble with his suit but it fixed now and the entire squads ready to rock."

Avon smiled under his helmet. "That's good to hear 'cause a pisspot full of Jaffa are about to come charging over here pretty shortly."

Capini picked up his rail-gun and turned to the other men. "Lt Heinreich, get your men into position."

After the men of 1st platoon had taken up positions against the main entrance wall, Avon initiated a private com-channel between him and his 2IC. "What was that about, Ettore?" He asked as he raised his own rail-gun and laid it against the top of the fortifications, sighting it against the plainly visible hoards of Jaffa.

"Some of the Gryphon troopers were beginning to get jumpy. I figured seeing us relaxed might calm them down a bit." Major Capini replied.

Avon opened his mouth to comment when the voice of General Roberts fill the tactical radio channel.

"All units, this is General Roberts. Hold your fire until I give the signal." He ordered.

The Jaffa Legions surged forward, the Scorpions crawling forward in an easy, flowing gait, as the Beetles seemed to stomp forward, their trunk-like legs pounding footprints into the sand.

"Steady..." The General continued.

* * * * * * * * * *

On the tactical display, General Roberts watched on of the Scorpions fire a single blast into the Wakazi compound that slammed against the thick walls and shook the building.

"Fire!" Roberts called out.

42nd Cohort, 112th Legion
11:00 ZULU

The battle had been raging for almost an hour and black smoke, white clouds and brown dust drifted slowly across the battlefield. Dirt fountained upward as shells impacted into the ground and bolts of energy flew back and forth with increasing ferocity.

Hek'at flinched slightly as light ion cannon fire reached out and exploded a Pra'kesh close to his position. Two udajeets appeared, swooping low across the flat plains, and pulling up slightly at the last second, pouring fire into the Tau'ri positions and hitting the ion cannon that then exploded in white fire. The udajeets turned to strafe the Tau'ri lines again when white ion bolts rippled across their path. An entire squadron of Sabre fighters were closing in fast and they chased the udajeets back to the Jaffa positions where several echelons more of udajeets waited like hawks.

Thousands of Jaffa had poured out of the Jak'ast transports and Prak'esh assault vehicles and together, they had charged at the Tau'ri lines.

Hek'at was enjoying himself immensely purely because this battle was being distilled down to the essence of war. There was going to be no complex plans, no deceptions or subtleties, just the simple application of force.

The fronts ranks of Jaffa had collapsed as Tau'ri fire poured from their lines but even as then fell, the answering fire from the Jaffa blasted holes in the defenses of the Tau'ri.

A nearby explosion kicked up a shower of dirt, which fell across the small knot of Jaffa that protected Hek'at and Dre'tec. They were sheltered behind a burning Pra'kesh on the reasoning that it was obviously no longer a threat, and so none of the Tau'ri would waste a shot at it. All in all, the perfect place for a combat command post.

Dre'tec was leaning over a large display panel that showed the tactical disposition of the Jaffa Legions. He brushed the small flakes of dirt that had fallen on the screen and grunted in mild satisfaction. "First Prime, defenses in sector nine have been silent for the past five minutes. I believe we have accounted for all of the cannons in that section."

Hek'at glanced at the display and studied the readouts. Turning from Dre'tec, he activated his helmet and raised his head above the wreckage. In seconds, the golden visage of a lion had formed around his head, the eyes an intense ruby red. Using the vision enhancements, he studied the area of the Tau'ri defenses designated 'sector nine'. Smoke and fires raged in several places and the defensive fire from the Tau'ri was sporadic, at best.

"Excellent." Hek'at acknowledged as he deactivated his helmet. "Order three Cohorts from the Reserve into sector nine." He glanced at the tactical display. As he encircled the Wakazi Base, he had sectored the battlefield tactical display into nine pie slices, for easy assignment of forces. Now that they were weakening in one sector, he needed to ensure any reinforcements were pre-occupied. His smile turned grim. "Order the Legions in sectors 4, 5 and 6 to push harder."

Dre'tec relayed the appropriate orders and then turned back to the First Prime. "What about the udajeets?"

Hek'at hesitated. They had taken heavy losses from the fighters defending Wakazi but in doing so, the Tau'ri fighters had been steadily worn away, they couldn't have that many left. "Split them into two groups. One group goes against the ground defenses. We must whittle away their ion cannons so we can bring in the Motherships."

"And the other group?" Dre'tec asked.

"Have them engage the remaining Tau'ri fighters. I want total control of the skies." Hek'at declared.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Are you sure, Tadeshi?" The Queen asked over the vid-link.

General Roberts nodded resignedly. "We can't hold out much longer. We didn't expect the ferocity and single-mindedness that this Hek'at came after us with. I assumed he would attack multiple targets, diluting his firepower but his played it too smart. Focusing his forces, he's hit us with overwhelming firepower. We cannot hold. I intend to evacuate as many people as possible through the Stargate and then stage a breakout with the remaining troops. We'll head for Manticore, they're closer and they'll be able to provide us with enough cover for our retreat."

Anne took a deep breath but nodded in acceptance. Her eyes searched out those of O'Neill's. "General, thank you for your world's assistance. Without it, we would have been invaded a long time ago and much more easily. You and the Alliance has at least given us a fighting chance."

O'Neill bit the inside of his lip in frustration. "You just have to hold out for a year, we'll be back as soon as we've rebuilt the fleet."

The Queen returned his pledge with a sad smile but it was clear to him that she doubted his statement. "A safe journey home, General. And we will do our best by your people who have chosen to stay behind."

O'Neill could see Brigadier Franklin Scott in the background at the Royal Palace. It was his 23rd Division, the Rapid Reaction Force that had been deployed to Gryphon. He gave O'Neill a sharp salute and held it until O'Neill slowly returned it.

The room shook violently and the vid-link cut out. "We've lost the signal receivers." A technician announced.

General Roberts turned to O'Neill's guard detail. Four armored warriors stood against the far wall of the Command Center, silent and impassive. "Time for you to escort the General to the Stargate." He announced.

The leader of the guard unit stepped forward with no little relief. "Yes, sir."

"Tadeshi..." O'Neill started.

"No way, O'Neill. Time for you to be leader of men...somewhere else." Roberts finished wryly.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lt Cmdr 'Razor' Stephanovich drank the remnants of her coffee and swallowed the last of her sandwich as the 'hanger boss' jogged over to her and the other seven pilots that were finishing up their snacks. They were a mixed bunch, the remnants of the Ark Royal squadrons and the Gryphon planetary defense units.

"Get ready, guys, your birds are almost done and you go out again in ten minutes." The hanger boss announced.

The pilots were too tired to even groan. This would be their third sortie in the last eight hours, each flight lasting almost two hours. The slow erosion of pilots meant that there was now not enough to keep up an effective combat air patrol and the need to defend the base was wearing hard on the remaining pilots.

Razor shook her head and tried not to think about the loss of 'Ghost'. The eight pilots stepped over to the small briefing area where the Wing Intelligence and Air Ops officer stood. Surprisingly, almost forty other pilots stood in the briefing area. That pretty much accounted for all the remaining pilots in Wakazi. Around them, mechanics and technicians were frantically crating equipment and loading it onto trucks, apparently evacuating the base.

Wasting no time, the Intelligence officer activated the display, showing a real-time overview of the battlefield. He pointed to a swarm of red dots coming in from the north. "These appear to be almost the entire remaining strength of the Death Gliders. They're due to arrive in fifteen minutes. We've managed to pull literally every pilot and ship we've got left at Wakazi to re-arm and repair. You managed to have small rest but this is it. The Jaffa are making their final push and it don't look good for us. We're evacuating Wakazi. A lot are going through the Stargate but some are staying behind to try and punch through the Jaffa lines and escape to Manticore. You mission is to go out and mix it up with the Death Gliders. It's real simple folks. As we stage the break out, you're going to have to provide fighter cover for the journey to Manticore."

The pilots looked at one another tiredly. Digging deep, the roused themselves and headed back to their aircraft. Some of the pilots were like punch-drunk boxers. If the situation wasn't so dire, they wouldn't have been allowed in the hanger, let alone take off.

Regardless, twenty-eight Sabres and seven Pegasus bombers lifted off the pads and flew one after the other out of the main hanger.

Quickly gaining altitude, Razor's computer alerted her to the approaching Death Gliders, reaching out for her fighter with their sensors. Behind her, her fellow pilots formed into flights and readied their AFM's.

Below, the ground seemed to explode as SG-Omega staged their breakout.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Colonel Avon roared as he and his men charged out of their trenches and into the oncoming Jaffa. The armored troopers of SG-Omega carried the M-205 Rail-gun, specially developed for the soon-to-be deployed armored combat units. Able to fire in two modes, the first was anti-armor mode. Accelerating a single tungsten round to near light-speed, it could down a medium strength Goa'uld shield with only a few hits. The other mode, the one they were firing in now, was flechette mode.

Like the AFM's on the Sabre, that same tungsten round could be set to shatter as soon as it left the rail-gun, leaving hyper accelerated shards that spread rapidly like a light-speed shotgun, devastating anything in its path.

The front ranks of the Jaffa seemed to liquefy under the assault. Jaffa flesh and armor was shredded with equal ease and the 120 soldiers of SG-Omega ripped a hole in the lines of the Jaffa.

General Roberts gave the go signal and the first line of trucks and vehicles charged out of the main gates. Several SG-Omega troopers jumped on the trucks as they accelerated away, so as to give the front echelons of the convoy so heavy fire support.

Vehicle after vehicle streamed out of the military city as cohort after cohort slammed into the lines of SG-Omega and were obliterated for their troubles.

At the opposite side of the base, in the Jaffa designated sectors 1, 9 and 8, a few brave soldiers held the line amongst the automated weaponry, buying time for their comrades who had withdrawn to grab the last vehicles leaving the compound, though practically no defenders live in sector 9, having borne the brunt of the Jaffa assault in that quadrant.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Hek'at watched the breakout futilely but quickly decided that it didn't matter a great deal. His observers had seen no sign of the Chappa'ai being moved and if the Tau'ri wished to evacuate the base and leave him the Chappa'ai then fair enough. He would deal with them later when he had brought the rest of the Legions from Sohag.

He slapped the back of Dre'tec cheerfully. "We have taken the field, my friend. Now let us take our prize. All units, ignore the convoy, concentrate on the few, brave souls remaining in Wakazi. I want to be standing in front of the Chappa'ai within the hour."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

O'Neill stood in front of the Stargate as the last chevron locked and the wormhole exploded into life. Not for the first time, he both looked upon the spectacle with awe and hate. A world of possibilities had opened up with this device and still they could only be achieved though bloodshed.

Colonel Krupskaya activated her GDO and looked up at O'Neill. "They've acknowledged the signal, sir. We're clear to proceed."

O'Neill took several steps towards the wormhole but paused and looked back at the chamber and the massive doors at the far side that opened into the massive assembly area. Dust fell from the ceiling as the room shook from the pounding up on the surface.

"Sir..." Krupskaya repeated insistently.

O'Neill nodded and took the few remaining steps up to the wormhole and stepped through.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Colonel Avon, sitting in the last truck of the convoy as it sped away from Wakazi, received one last transmission from O'Neill's guard detail and then their transponder disappeared as they entered the Stargate.

"He's gone then." Major Capini noted from beside him. He hadn't missed the guard's combat armor transponder disappearing either.

"Aye." Avon replied. "We're on our own."

He stared back at the Jaffa forces swarming over the charred remains of Wakazi.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Stargate disengaged, the Iris grated shut, flexing inwards to prevent wormhole activation and the Gate Room was filled with silence once more. Brigadier Samantha Carter stood at the bottom of the ramp as the wounded evacuees from Wakazi were finally carried away.

O'Neill walked down the ramp and met the eyes of his old friend with a haunted look. "Seal it off, Sam." O'Neill ordered.

Carter nodded sadly. The Gryphon Stargate was now considered compromised. She turned to look at Control Room window. "Sgt Mendez, lock down the dialing codes for Gryphon, and remove all the GDO codes for SG-Omega and the 23rd Division from the access computer."

"Done, sir." Sgt Mendez replied over the speaker.

"Get some sleep, Jack." Carter suggested. "Your report to World Council can wait a few hours at least."

O'Neill nodded tiredly and, shoulders slumped, slowly walked out of the Gate Room.

Epilogue

Two weeks later...

15:24 ZULU
November 14th, 2009

O'Neill sat quietly in his office, in his little corner of the SGC. The sound of alarms penetrated his thick door and O'Neill started slightly but simply looked at his watch to confirm that it was just SG-Alpha scheduled transit off world.

Almost eleven minutes later, the lights and small TV in the office blinked off. The sound of power generators across the base powering down filled the sudden silence.

"Aww, hell." O'Neill cursed. Getting up from his chair, he strode out of his office, the two MP's on guard duty outside his door stepped forward, trying to get him to remain inside but O'Neill was having none of it.

A flurry of noise to their right caused the two guards to pull their weapons, turning on the harried Sgt Mendez, who looked liked he had ran all the way from the Command Center.

"General O'Neill, sir!" Mendez exclaimed, studiously ignoring the guards who slowly put away their weapons. "You're needed in the Gate Room, sir. It's the Asgard."

Cursing once more, O'Neill broke into a fast jog towards the Gate Room, Sgt Mendez and the two MP's in tow.

In less than a minute, they arrived at the Gate Room and the sight of Carter conferring with Thor and General McAuley and three other unfamiliar officers greeted O'Neill.

Sgt Mendez announced SGC-SAC's presence. "Stargate Command, Supreme Allied Commander, arriving..."

By reflex, everybody in the Gate Room except for O'Neill and Thor came to attention.

"At ease." O'Neill called out and strode up to Thor, kneeling down to look at his old friend on a more equal basis. "Old buddy, it's been too long."

"Far too long, O'Neill." Thor agreed. "I wish my arrival here was not so onerous a duty."

"What do you mean?" O'Neill asked. The fact that Thor had made contact again, and was alive to do so, must have meant they had won against the Replicators.

Thor sighed heavily, as if reading O'Neill thoughts. "We have been victorious against the Replicators, O'Neill, but the price we have paid was significant." Thor looked up at General McAuley.

"Jack...or, I suppose it should be 'Sir', really." McAuley greeted the younger man.

O'Neill smiled as he stood upright and shook hands. "Jack's fine, General." Glancing at Thor, he turned grim. "What happened?"

It was McAuley's turn to sigh and Jack noted the slate gray hair and extra age lines that made the older General's face seem craggy and weathered. "We beat them, Jack. We rounded up every last Replicator and destroyed them. Unfortunately, we lost practically every ship in the Asgard Fleet to do it."

O'Neill felt like he had been punched in the gut as McAuley continued remorselessly. "A great many worlds, Asgard or others races, have been devastated by the final battles, Jack. We achieved everything we set out to do but the Asgard virtually annihilated themselves to do it."

O'Neill looked down at the smaller alien. "Thor..."

"We were a dying race, O'Neill, and it was us, through our arrogance, that unleashed the Replicators in the first place. We knew the price we would pay and considered it fitting." Thor finished. "Our only regret is that we are unable to provide you with any more help against the Goa'uld. It will be years before we have enough ships again to turn to matters other that medical relief and food shipments to ravaged worlds in our Galaxy."

"I understand, Thor." O'Neill replied. "If the Alliance can help in any way..."

"Thank you O'Neill but your Alliance must look to its own safety now, and that of the Galaxy." Thor seemed to grow in the eyes of the humans in the room as he looked around at the soldiers of the Alliance. "We Asgard have studied humanity for a long time and it took us even longer to see anything of value in your species. In that judgment, we were wrong. I once told O'Neill that four great races once watched over the Galaxies and that humans had the potential to be the Fifth Race. That potential has become reality. Humans will be the glue that unites this Galaxy as one and the Asgard will look forward to the day when we can stand together as equals in peace."

"I must return now, to New Halla. The Asgard have much work ahead of us and we owe you a debt we can never repay. It is my hope that I will see you again soon, O'Neill."

"You too, old buddy." O'Neill replied.

Thor nodded and stepped up on the ramp. Raising a hand, the Stargate burst instantly to life. The small, gray alien tread softly up and the ramp, and with single glance back at O'Neill, he stepped through the wormhole, leaving O'Neill to carry the weight of the Galaxy on his shoulders.

The End

Wheww...finished.

I hope you think it was worth the wait. Let me know what you thought. You may have noted that it's twice as long as any previous story...well, the plots just kept expanding! I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Let me now whether you like the stories that deal with the 'big picture' or the more intimate ones that deal with the SG-Assault squads...

All ideas and concepts in the story are mine, any errors are also mine so feel free to flame, congratulate or comment.