As I stand here in front of all these people, suddenly I'm twelve years old again and have just been rescued from my destroyed world. I lost my family on Hanka back then, as I have all but done now. I know my mother well enough to realise that even though she's with us in body, her spirit has all but joined the others. Still, I know that she will never truly leave us as long as the children need her.
"The Goa'uld destroyed my world, and I was rescued by SG-1," I begin my tale, but am interrupted by the familiar sound of the Stargate. Those closest to the ancient artefact instinctively move away, even though none of us are in any danger from it. The iris, which has automatically closed, is now reopening, and I look to Colonel Richardson for confirmation as for what to do. There are still three teams off world, so it may be one of them, or perhaps a representative of the Tok'ra, although our current Tok'ra representative is sitting not ten feet from me; a young man called Hakeem, who carries the symbiont Selmac. It's only been two years since Jacob Carter died in the final assault against the Goa'uld system lords, yet it seems like an eternity now. In a way I'm glad, as it means that he doesn't have to sit through his only daughter's and son-in-law's memorial service. The seventh and final chevron locks, and as the wormhole forms with its usual brilliance, I risk a quick glance to the doors, where armed guards are waiting; just in case. All the eyes in the gate room are fixed on the blue surface of the gate.
Suddenly a figure - no, make that two figures - appear through the event horizon, followed by another two, then another one, then another two. All, but two, dressed in what appears to be very dusty, and ripped Air Force blues.
The taller of the first two figures lifts up his head, and in an unmistakable voice asks "Missed us?"
