Spearhead: Foundations of Sand

by Darksider

The ten year war between the Alliance and Goa'uld Union has reached fever pitch. Gryphon, after a year of intense fighting, is about to fall and O'Neill must convince the members of the Alliance to risk everything in order to bring an end to Bast's Union

1. chapter 1

You know, the problem with writing a series that has become something of a success is that you want the end to be worth it. For taking so long on this, I apologise but its really only because I want you all to feel satisfied with it. (that and the little thing of my finals at college!)

Well folks, I guess I gotta publish this thing at some point. I can practically hear the sharpening of knives from those of you that ran out of patience months ago. I'm still tweaking the latter sections but here's part 1 of 3.

Enjoy.

Spearhead: Foundations of Sand

Chapter 1
The Prisoner's Dilemma

11:24 ZULU
June 8th 2010
Station Freedom, Earth orbit, Sol System

General Jack O'Neill, Supreme Allied Commander of the Earth Alliance, stood before the
magnificent splendor of space and stared silently into the depths. Countless stars blazed among
the heavens and he noted absently that the stars didn't twinkle as they did when viewed from
the surface of a planet. He vaguely remembered that Carter had explained to him once about
'atmospheric diffusion' or some such thing and he sighed softly, thinking that he actually
preferred to them twinkle, rather than the constant shine he was presented with now as he
viewed them from the observation lounge of the new and improved space station Freedom.

The original station called 'Freedom' had been a relatively small and primitive facility, built
painstakingly over fifteen years by the now defunct NASA, European and Russian Space
Agencies but that had been with native Earth technology from the late twentieth century. The
new technologies of the Alliance allowed for the design of a station that made the previous effort
look like a wooden raft by comparison. Though planetary construction efforts were focused
primarily on warships and fighters, some spare capacity had been found and dedicated to the
station's construction, which was still ongoing and showed no signs of stopping. The new
Freedom was currently an eight hundred metre, heavily armored and shielded, lozenge-shape
platform that bristled with weapons but also acted as the staging facility and port for incoming
and outgoing personnel. Built as a space borne command center, she was also built as a
'monument', commemorating the victory of the Alliance military at the Battle of Sol. The people
on Earth could look up into the night sky and feel comforted to see the station pass overhead,
watching over them.

Beyond the massive viewport of the observation lounge, O'Neill turned his attention from the
distant stars, towards the numerous glittering spacesuited figures and construction bots that
flitted across the rows of gray warships that floated nearby, fresh from the shipyards, and
smiled. The largest of the new vessels was the latest Alliance carrier, the ENS Daniel Jackson.
The German shipyards in Bremerhaven had set a new all-time speed record for her construction
and she was currently undergoing final yard trials in readiness for its official launch next week as
the flag vessel for Second Fleet.

O'Neill smiled. Danny would have loved having a ship named after him. Almost as much as I
would have liked to have annoyed him about it, especially considering the grief he gave me
when Thor named his ship the 'O'Neill'.

As the memories rolled over him, his eyes fell on a swarm of space-suited engineers working on
a nearby group of ships. The finishing touches were also being added to the first squadron of
the brand-new King William class heavy cruisers. A new design from the new Bureau of Ship
Design, or BuShips as it was coming to be called, the highly advanced King William's were built
to bolster the long-suffering battleships of the Alliance Navy. The Ares class battleships were all
too often forced to close with an enemy vessel instead of doing what they were designed to do,
which was providing long range fire support. The cruisers themselves were pure assault
vessels, lacking the fighter complement and material stores of a battleship and massing little
over half as much, meaning that they could be built in effectively half the time and yet, thanks to
a handful of recent innovations, they carried very nearly more firepower, armour and shielding
than the Ares class battleship itself.

With the addition of the Tollan to the Alliance, they had been more forthcoming with their
technologies now that Earth and the Alliance was closing the technological gap anyway and they
had allowed Alliance scientists access to a range of advanced weapons technology that would
put them on a par with the Goa'uld. The new King William class cruiser carried eight of the
'Alliance standard' dual ion batteries but its primary armament was the new 'particle beam
lance', a powerful Tollan weapon that could slice through a Mothership's hull like butter.

O'Neill couldn't wait to see them in action.

The door to the lounge hissed open and the combat armored guards at the door stood aside to
reveal a familiar face.

"Teal'c!" O'Neill exclaimed in surprise.

"Greetings, O'Neill." The big ex-Jaffa replied. "You are a hard man to locate these days."

O'Neill glanced at the guards who nodded and left the room. The doors closed with a hiss and
then they were alone. "Yeah, old buddy, I'm an important man these days, and my watchers
don't like to advertise my presence, especially since that assassin came close to getting Carter
last month."

"Indeed." Teal'c replied solemnly.

For the most part, the war between the Alliance had been fairly overt, with very little in the way
of subterfuge except for a few strikes against Separatist forces by Spearhead teams disguised
as Union Jaffa. These strikes had generated intense distrust between the two rival Goa'uld
groups but they had only been necessary in the beginning, once the reprisals and counter-
reprisals had begun, O'Neill had called off the strikes and stood back, letting the internecine
warfare take on a life of its own.

However, since the defeat at Sol, Bast appeared to have stepped up the low-intensity warfare
and used the Goa'uld ability to take a host for maximum effect. More than one dead Alliance
trooper had been found trying to infiltrate back into allied circles. The most recent of which had
actually gotten close to killing Sam as she visited the Scientific Support Division on Earth,
spending some time with the department heads, overseeing the various developments made to
date. Her bodyguards were successful in their defense of her life but three of the five guards
had died in that short but brutal firefight on the outskirts of Boulder.

Alliance Intelligence went to straight to DefCon 1 that day and the spy war suddenly shifted into
top gear.

O'Neill, pushing thoughts of assassins and intrigue aside, smiled broadly at seeing his old friend
again. "Where's that old reprobate, Master Sergeant Booth?" Usually, wherever one turned up,
the other was never far behind.

It was Teal'c's turned to smile. "The Master Sergeant is down on the surface, visiting his sister
and her family. We arrived this morning on the cruiser Budapest from Fort Graham."

Fort Graham was one of the handful of strategic military outposts of the Alliance. The fourth of
seven planets, in a system 8,000 light years from Earth, had a small population of humans that
had been long forgotten by the System Lords. The people of that world were simple farmers
with little knowledge of the world beyond their fences and the Alliance had been hesitant to
move in on them. The decision was made for them though, especially with General Directive 3
to stay their hand politically, at least, and so the Navy, needing a presence in the strategically
vital location of the Galaxy, had settled on the far side of the planet's moon, away from the eyes
of the natives thus satisfying the Alliance Council directives. As a practical matter, the airless
moon with its shallow gravity well made for a better base anyhow.

"And for what purpose are you onboard the Freedom, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked a moment later.

O'Neill shrugged expansively. "I sure you know, the entire Council is meeting on Sintesia in a
next week, to deal with the 'official' amalgamation of the Tollan and the Adenans into the
Alliance."

Teal'c nodded silently and O'Neill continued with his explanation. "Tollana's sun has decided to
play up and an unusually severe solar storm has erupted and is denying the Tollan Stargate
access for at least a week and since it would be bad form to miss the first meeting of the
Summit, Chancellor Althin is coming here by ship and using our Gate to get to Sintesia. The
place is so far out on the Rim, it'd take even the Tollan a good two weeks of hard travel to get
there. I want to meet with him before we hit the surface. There are some things we need to
have a chat about."

"Project Wraith." Teal'c replied blandly.

O'Neill's eyes widened and he looked around the empty room automatically. "Jeez-us, Teal'c!
Where in the hell did you hear that name? I was only briefed on the damned thing two days
ago!"

Teal'c's smile could have given the Mona Lisa a run for her money. "I wrote the original
proposal that was passed to General Stuart. We decided it was best if my name was left out of
it. Some elements in the Alliance government are still leery of a Jaffa, even a Shol'va, amongst
their ranks."

At hearing the last remark, O'Neill became dark and angry. "Tell me who's stupid enough to be
suspicious of you and I'll throw them into the nearest wormhole to Sohag!"

Teal'c shook his head. "Forget about it, my friend. Their opinion matters little to me."

Taking a deep breath, O'Neill made a mental note to keep an ear out for these particular idiots
and then returned to the subject of that little known, highly classified report. "So you wrote
'Wraith', huh?"

"Indeed." Teal'c replied. "It offers significant tactical and strategic advantages that we would
be foolish not to develop, especially since Bast has begun to deploy Iris technology on more
important worlds."

O'Neill grunted in acknowledgement of the point. Alliance Stargate operations had been
severely hindered by the Union equivalent of the SGC's Iris. Though the technology was not that
hard to develop, no Goa'uld had ever seemed to bother with the device for their Stargates.
Until, of course, Bast captured the Stargate on Gryphon. The general assumption was that the
Jaffa's position on Gryphon was tenuous at best, and having an obvious weak spot like an
unsecure Stargate wasn't wise, especially because of weapons like the that 'Paveway' system
could wreak serious havoc through an open wormhole. Regardless of her motives, Bast had
utilized the Gryphon Iris and then proceeded to copy it and deploy it on key industrial worlds in
the Union.

The Spearhead Assault teams were particularly sore about this and would relish any opportunity
to remove this obstacle from their path.

"Then you can join me for this meeting and help me persuade Althin to shake some of his
resources loose for the project." The general's smiled dimmed slightly. "I only wish Jonas
wasn't on Gryphon, we'd move a lot faster on this if we had his input."

The big ex-Jaffa looked at O'Neill steadily. "Have we had any word from Gryphon?"

"None." O'Neill replied quietly. "Hek'at has the system locked down tight. We haven't been able
to sneak anybody in or out since Bast introduced that sensor/jamming satellite network. When
we go in, we're going to need to find a way to neutralize it, one way or another."

"And what of the preparations to attack Gryphon and Sohag?"

O'Neill winced. "I've managed to convince the military chiefs but there's a growing number on
the Alliance Council that are opposed to attacking Sohag. They're willing to liberate Gryphon but
they feel attacking Sohag is far too ambitious, reckless even."

Teal'c studied his old friend carefully. "You do not sound entirely against their views."

"I'm not." O'Neill replied flatly. "That's the hell of it. Everything they're saying has merit." He
looked up at the massive ex-Jaffa. "Am I being too ambitious, Teal'c?"

"Your military chiefs do not appear to think so." Teal'c replied.

"But they're good, aggressive soldiers, Teal'c, they're inclined to aggressive solutions. Part of
my job is to temper their enthusiasm. If we risk it all at Sohag, we can cut ten years off the war
but if we fail, we would add ten years, maybe lose everything…"

In the silence that ensued, Teal'c's voice softly spoke out. "I remember when I was First Prime
to Apophis. We were to collect hosts for the Goa'uld from the local population. I moved among
the slaves, picking out the healthiest, the strongest when I came across a man who did not look
like the rest. He did not look beaten or defeated. His eyes shone with a defiance I had not seen
in many years."

O'Neill looked out at the stars but said nothing.

"I remembered thinking that this man would never be reduced to a slave, he would be nothing
but trouble, that he had dedicated himself to nothing less than the extinction of the Goa'uld and I
was fully prepared to execute him on the spot."

"What happened?" O'Neill asked quietly.

"He asked me to join him."

A soft chime rang through the observation lounge and a female voice emanated from the hidden
speakers. "Krupskaya to General O'Neill, the Tollan vessel Ether's Pride just dropped out of
hyperspace and is on a least time approach to Freedom, E.T.A, fifteen minutes."

The two soldiers, one who would never forgive himself for the death of a child and one who
would never forgive himself for the death of millions, silently met each others gaze.

O'Neill nodded his thanks to Teal'c. "Thank you, Colonel. Meet me in Bay 1, O'Neill out." The
General replied out loud, decisively. "Come on, Teal'c, lets go grab Althin and see if we can't
get some goodies for you and Master Sergeant Booth to play with."

16:00 ZULU
June 15th 2010
Imperial Palace, Edo City, Gryphon

Anne of the Sword, Queen of Gryphon, stood out on her 'office' balcony overlooking the city of
Edo and cast her thoughts back to almost a year ago, when she had stood on this balcony and
listened to General Tadeshi Roberts inform her of the impending Goa'uld invasion of her world.
Now she looked out over the city and tried to ignore the crackle of the canopy shield as it
reacted with high-altitude static. She tried to ignore the rumble of artillery and the crackling of
cannon fire in the distance. She tried to ignore the heavy dust content in the atmosphere from
the continual orbital bombardments that kicked up megatonnes of dirt, which took weeks to drift
back down. She tried to ignore the screeching Sabre fighters that screamed past, flying low on
patrol under the canopy shield, not doubt on an intercept of the continual Death Glider probes.

She was so tired of it all but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore any of it.

"Your Majesty."

Anne turned away from the skyline to the two figures sat in front of her desk. General Tadeshi
Roberts looked at Anne with slight concern at her woolgathering during his briefing while, the
other man, one of his senior commanders, General Tyler, sat patiently.

"I'm sorry, Tadeshi, what were you saying?" Anne replied contritely and sat down behind her
desk, forcing her mind to focus on the General's words.

Roberts sighed softly. "I was saying, ma'am, that our people have performed magnificently.
They've fought longer and harder than our most optimistic projections, and I'm proud of each
and every one of them, but…" and he hesitated.

"But what?" Anne asked softly.

Roberts grimaced. "We're almost done for, your majesty. We're fought out."

General Tyler's face twisted as he heard the admission but made no noise of disagreement.
"Your Majesty, we've been fighting for over a year now and we've been doing magnificently but
in the past month, we've lost eight of the twenty two 'Sanctuary Cities' to Hek'at. That's more
territory, troops and equipment than we lost in the first ten months of this war combined."

Anne bit her lip in a nervous fashion. "Why now?"

General Roberts picked up the conversation. "Fatigue. Our troops are tired ma'am. Hek'at's
attacks have been constant but he has the advantages of numbers and it's beginning to tell,
despite the traditional advantages of a defender. While we have nearly a million men and
women under arms, spread across the sanctuary cities, Hek'at has around three million Jaffa on
Gryphon, and although we've bloodied their nose on more than one occasion, he's been rotating
his damaged formations with fresh units from Sohag. That ability to stand down entire divisions
is beginning to pay dividends for him. Our people are tired from the constant fighting and soon,
maybe less than six months, the only places we'll be effectively holding will be the capital, Edo
and the city/shipyards of Manticore, the rest will have collapsed from sheer exhaustion if nothing
else."

"And we can do nothing?" The Queen asked in a desperate appeal for some slim hope.

Tyler cast an urging look at his superior.

General Roberts glanced back at Tyler and gave a small nod of surrender. "We have a plan.
We can't defeat the Jaffa alone, so we need the rest of the Alliance but since Bast developed
those high-intensity, cascade jammers, we've not been able to get a communication signal out
of the system, especially since they began to alter our sensors systems as well."

Anne frowned heavily. She knew all this from previous briefings and they had never mentioned
a way to defeat the jamming before. The Gryphon army had spent the most of the past year
operating in a static filled environment and their electronic countermeasure teams had learned a
great deal about Bast's satellite-based jammers and had cobbled together several devices that
actually had a more than even chance of defeating the jamming successfully (at least on a short
range scale). Unfortunately, Gryphon lacked the resources of the Alliance Scientific Support
Division to develop the technology any further.

Historical Note – The planet Gryphon hadn't had time to be fully integrated into the Alliance
before the Goa'uld Union invaded and as such, implementing much of the Alliance's basic
infrastructure had been neglected in order to bring Gryphon's defensive and manufacturing
capabilities up to Alliance par as quickly as possible.

General Tyler seemed to read her thoughts. "We still can't defeat the system-wide jamming
but, due to the dire circumstances, we believe its time to try and get a courier out of the system
with everything we've learned to date from fighting the Jaffa and an appeal for help from
O'Neill."

Now that option Anne did remember from the briefings. The cost of fighting past the Goa'uld
blockade had always been prohibitively high and the fact that her military chiefs were suggesting
it now as a viable option told her how bleak the situation had truly become.

"When would you want to do this?" Anne asked slowly.

"Fifteen days from now." Tyler replied decisively. "For the past year, Hek'at has rotated his
Motherships between here and Sohag on a long but predictable cycle. He always waits for a
fresh Mothership to arrive before dispatching his most depleted vessel back for repairs and
replenishment. The next changeover is expected in seventeen days and we think it best to try
the operation before a fresh crew arrives in system. It'll take us two weeks to get everything
ready without alerting the enemy to our intentions."

Anne nodded, easily seeing the logic to the argument and seeing no plausible reason to delay,
despite the massive loss of life that would occur.

"Proceed." She ordered gravely.

General Tyler left his superior to confer with her majesty while he immediately began to put his
brainchild into operation. As he walked out of the Queen's office and out of the antechamber, a
group of Gryphon Army and Air Corp officers fell in behind him. Without breaking his stride,
Tyler began to pass out orders to his people.

"Commander Tetsuo, I want you and your staff to go over the Order of Battle for Operation
Breakout once more. I want one more evaluation of the minimum force levels necessary to
ensure a breakout without crippling our defence forces here on the surface. Getting the word
out won't do us much good if we leave the door open for Hek'at to come in and finish us off in a
single strike."

Tetsuo nodded grimly and broke off from the impromptu parade of high-ranking commanders.
An OrBat force level review was no small task and he had little time to complete it.

"Commander Wade, you're going to head to the Manticore city-shipyards as we discussed. Take
Tetsuo's refined OrBat with you and make sure her air wings know precisely what is expected of
them. They'll be no unrestricted dogfighting in this op. Everything relies on a series of strict,
disciplined maneuvers."

"Aye, sir." Wade replied with a grin, knowing what was coming next.

Tyler didn't disappoint. He came to a halt and looked over his assembled officers with a gimlet
eye. "What do we say about improvisation, people?"

"It only works when planned in advance!" They all chorused in reply.

A smattering of laughter came from the personnel in the corridor and from the officers
themselves. That was one of General Tyler's favorite axioms and he never failed to bring up at
least twice a week.

Tyler stifled his own grin after a moment and fell serious. "Alright people, staff meeting at
19:00, tonight. You brief the troops tomorrow and we spend the next twelve days assembling
everything for the strike for at least a day before we go in."

The group of officers murmured their acknowledgement and broke up into small groups, each
conferring with other officers no their roles in the op.

Tyler nodded in satisfaction and headed off to see Brigadier General Scott of the SGC's Rapid
Reaction Force. He would probably have information he would like to see included in the data
package that a lot of equipment and lives were going to be spent getting to the rest of the
Alliance.

11:54 ZULU
June 17th 2010
Sohag System Asteroid Belt

Bast, System Lord, scientist, revolutionary and nominal leader of the Goa'uld Union, stood in
front of the command throne, on the bridge on the 'War Hammer', as her scientists conferred
silently around the main console. "I assume that since you requested my presence, you do not
intend to make me wait an eternity for you to actually show me something!" She bit out,
scathingly.

The two lead Goa'uld scientists, long-time associates of Bast since her rise to power, glanced at
each other with concern. Bast herself was a scientist, and she had always shown a scientist's
patience due presentations and experiements but as of late, she had been far more reactionary
and hostile and the lead scientists berated themselves silently for forgetting that.

"My apologies, my Queen. We are now ready to begin the test of the new weapon." Fal'khan,
the senior scientist announced firmly.

"Proceed." Bast acknowledged imperiously.

Fal'khan nodded and turned to his associates. "Order the Test Wing to advance!"

Floating serenely nearby, eight udajeets powered up their engines and suddenly accelerated
away from the massive 'War Hammer'.

A million kilometers in the path of the udajeets floated a lone al'kesh. The Jaffa at the controls
of the al'kesh noted the advancing udajeets and, making a silently prayer to his God, Bast, he
pressed a button on his console.

Underneath the mid-range bomber, a hatch opened up and a small sphere, about two meters in
diameter was ejected away from the small vessel. Almost immediately, it rotated swiftly,
seeking its target and orienting itself before accelerating furiously towards the advancing
udajeets.

Bast watched the display with rising interest.

Fal'khan sighed slightly. "I regret that we are unable to match the range of the Tau'ri missiles
completely, for we are currently unable to build a drive unit small enough to fit the tash'khat's
specifications and yet have enough endurance to make the weapon practical."

Glancing at the computer readings, Bast gave a small sound of agreement. "Still, you've
achieved what, eighty-five percent of the Tau'ri weapon's effective range? That's enough to
even the odds immensely."

The small tash'khat sphere screamed furiously towards the udajeets who began to maneuver
furiously, standard procedure against incoming Tau'ri missiles.

Inside the sphere's crystal computer brain, sensor data suddenly correlated with programmed
requirements and a connection closed. The weapon armed itself, panels across the spherical
surface folding back and numerous spikes protruded outward.

The udajeets, jinking from side to side, successfully avoided being hit by the tash'khat but as it
passed through the center of their formation, it exploded.

Erupting outwards, the spikes each headed towards a targeted udajeet. The spikes quickly
closed the distance but just before impact, they themselves exploded into small flechettes, very
similar to the Tau'ri missiles, each shard less than fifteen inches long.

Seven of the eight udajeets were hit by dozens of flechette shards, their shields barely stopping
any of them, and they simply blew apart.

"Seven of the Test Wing drones destroyed." A Jaffa reported.

On the 'War Hammer', Bast smiled and Fal'khan nodded in satisfaction. As you can see, my
Queen, we've managed to duplicate the Tau'ri weapon in our own unique way. As you are not
doubt aware, small, sharp objects that travel within a specific speed envelope are able to
penetrate all current shield technology. As the Tau'ri have been able to penetrate our shields on
the udajeets, we can now penetrate the shielding on their ships. Each udajeet can carry two
tash'khat missiles, an al'kesh carries eight."

"You are sure the tash'khat will work on Tau'ri shields?" Bast wondered idly. She was pretty
sure it would if she remembered the specifics of shield technology correctly.

Fal'khan nodded. "All races that use shields generate them in the same way. Oh, form and
function alters between race and purpose but the physics of generation and the inherent
limitations of those universal physics remains the same. To date, shield penetration can only be
achieved by small flechettes which are effectively useless against ship-grade armour, hence its
limited application to fighter combat. Of course, massive amounts of energy can bring shields
down just as well, it only takes a little longer." The scientist concluded.

Bast grinned in agreement, her old 'self' coming to the fore, if only for a little while as she dealt
with science and technology, her original love before she set out on the path of conquest.

"Excellent, Fal'khan, begin full scale production of the tash'khat missile immediately and co-
ordinate with Hek'at the training of our Jaffa pilots in the use of the weapon."

"As you command, my Queen." Fal'khan replied humbly and with immense satisfaction.

Bast left the bridge and gracefully walked back to her quarters, two Jaffa of her Praetorian
Guard leading the way and two bringing up the rear.

"Was your new toy successful?" A voice called out with biting sarcasm.

Coming to a gradual halt, Bast counted out a suitable pause and turned to face the one who had
spoken as her Jaffa guards fell into place along the wall. "Of course the test was successful,
Lord Kiptakanae. Though I had little hand in designing the tash'khat, I trained the engineers that
did. I was completely confident of success."

"Dream up all the fancy toys you wish, my Queen…" Kiptakanae sneered. "…they won't prevent
your precious First Prime and his 'oh so superior' Jaffa from being beaten by the Tau'ri once
more."

Though their relationship had become cold of late, Bast still felt her protective instincts for Hek'at
fall into place. "Do you have anything useful to say, Lord Kiptakanae or was this entire meeting
orchestrated so as to allow you to insult our Jaffa and their First Prime, who have won as many
battles as they have lost." She replied subdued but dangerous intent.

Recognizing her rising irritation, the other System Lord inclined his head in vague
acknowledgement, an inch too deep so as to leech all respect from the gesture, and walked
away, leaving Bast acknowledging to herself that Kiptakanae wasn't such an idiot after all and
could understand a threat when one presented itself.

Her heart twisted as she thought of Hek'at once again before she almost snarled and forced her
emotions down, resuming her walk back to her quarters.

The Jaffa silently fell into place, the rearmost two sharing a look as they continued on their way.

10:11 ZULU
June 24th 2010
Conference Room 2, Spearhead

Brigadier General Carter sighed heavily as she read the contents of the folder in front of her.
Around the conference table, Carter, her 2IC, Colonel DeSoto and the CO of SG-Alpha, Colonel
Bannon were going over the next round of scheduled attacks upon various assets of the Goa'uld
Union.

"That's a real hard target, Rachel…in every sense of the word." Carter announced after
finishing the proposal.

Colonel Rachel Bannon raised an elegant eyebrow. "The only way to hurt Bast is to hits the
things she values the most." She replied calmly. Though Bannon was the senior Assault Team
leader, a twenty-year veteran, feared and respected throughout the Stargate Assault Corp, she
also had catwalk model looks that made most people weak at the knees.

Carter glanced at DeSoto who grimaced as he took a quick look at the proposal again. "Colonel,
this base is one of Bast's key command and control facilities on the Union/Separatist frontline. I
know, that's exactly what makes it a good target but it has a garrison of almost thirty Legions, at
least four defensive belts around the base and, let's not forget, the eight echelons of Scorpions
and five wings of Death Gliders!"

DeSoto pointed at the report accusingly. "And which infantry division would you like to join you
on this suicide strike?!"

"The Spartans." Bannon announced calmly.

"No way!" DeSoto spat out. "Those guys are in enough trouble as it is!"

Carter placed a hand on DeSoto's arm and the man visibly tried to get a grip on his temper.
Bannon seemed to have a way of getting under his skin like no other person could. Her
aggressiveness was an asset in the field but it was uncomfortable for some at other times.

"Colonel…" Carter began hesitantly. "…The 'Spartans' are considered by Command to be rather
loose and unreliable when it comes to following orders, why would you want them backing you
up on this highly risky mission?"

Bannon frowned slightly. "Ma'am, that's the rear echelon types talking. I know that you and
General O'Neill don't see them that way which is why they still exist as a unit and weren't
disbanded years ago…"

"What about PX-901, Colonel?" DeSoto interjected hotly. "They disobeyed a direct order to
withdraw and instead pressed their attack and received almost fifty percent casualties for their
trouble."

Bannon knew that DeSoto wasn't like the rear echelon types and that his concern about the
Spartans was genuinely because of their dislike of authority and willingness to accept horrific
casualties to get the job done. These were, however, exactly the kind of people she needed to
accomplish her mission. "Colonel, they achieved their objective. Had they withdrawn when they
had been ordered to, the heavy casualties they had already sustained by that point would have
been meaningless. I need people with that kind of steel."

(Unit History File – 52nd Assault Regiment a.k.a 'The Spartans' – One of the first units formed with the birth of the
Alliance Ground Force, the 52nd, led by Brigadier General Foster was at the forefront of almost half a dozen major
ground fights with Union forces in the space of a year. It was one of the earlier assaults that saw them inserted
near to their target by assault shuttles, allowing them to destroy a heavily fortified Union mining compound and
liberate almost eleven thousand slaves. The Goa'uld fleet, however, had rallied and counterattacked during the
middle of the ground assault; Foster was franticly ordered to pull back for extraction. This was before his troops
had managed to secure the compound and round up the slaves. Foster point blankly refused and continued with
the assault. Despite have almost three thousand troops on the planet, the Alliance Admiral had no choice but to
retreat from the system under fire from the Goa'uld Fleet, leaving the 52nd and two other Assault Regiments
stranded on the Union world, without support and almost fifty miles from the Stargate. Undeterred, the then-
Colonel Foster the regiments and the slaves towards the Stargate that was deep in the mountains. Finding a
natural bottleneck in the treacherous canyons, Foster and the 52nd dug in and held off almost twelve times their
number in Jaffa for three days, buying enough time for the other regiments to get the liberated slaves through the
Stargate. For their incredible feat, the 52nd earned the nickname, the 'Spartans' who in Ancient Greece performed
a similar victory. Since then, Foster and his Spartans had taken every hard target they could and succeeded,
sometimes where other units had failed. Unfortunately, the Spartans had become rather relaxed with the chain of
command outside of their own unit and it had swiftly given them a reputation of being loose cannons. Despite this,
they continued to get the job done which was probably why Alliance Command kept them together.)

In the ensuing silence, Carter studied the younger woman steadily. "I'm sorry, mission denied,
Colonel." She announced to Bannon's obvious dismay.

"May I ask why?" Bannon asked with remarkable calm. Admittedly, she had practice at this for
she was always submitting assault proposals that were too risky or too 'insane'. She did wonder
when the brass were gonna give her an opportunity to slip the leash and wreak some serious
carnage upon the Union. She had thought that 'the' Brigadier General Samantha Carter, of the
legendary SG-1, might be more pro-active that some of the other armchair generals but it
appeared that the time she had spent behind a desk had finally gotten to her.

Carter grinned. "Cause I think this is a perfect plan for when we go in against Wakazi."

Or not. Bannon thought almost guiltily.

"General!" DeSoto cried out in protest.

Carter raised her hand, cutting her 2IC off. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but we haven't come with an
effective way to take Wakazi back yet and this mission outline is the best idea yet."

DeSoto sighed heavily. "Even so, Wakazi's defences are several times what that Frontal
Command base had deployed…Hell, we help build half of it! SG-Alpha and the Spartans could
never hope to take the planet by themselves."

"No." Carter agreed, "but they might be enough, using Bannon's outline plan, to take the the
core of the base and the Stargate, allowing us to bring in the orbital assault while their
distracted by the attack at their center." She finished with a quiet smile.

Satisfied that the situation was decided, Carter placed the proposal to one side and picked up
another report. "I have a request here from the Sintesian Ground Force Commander. He has,
through Alliance Intelligence, located the one of the base of operations from which numerous
raids have been launched against their colony world. As you can imagine, he would like this
base destroyed."

The other two soldiers picked up their copies of the report and flicked through the outlined plan.
DeSoto, still smarting over the inclusion of the Spartans, stirred slightly when he reached the
order of battle. "General, all the ground units detailed to this raid are Sintesian."

Carter shrugged. "You know as well as I that multi-species strike missions are still relatively
rare. The only real mixed unit we have is the 111th Heavy Infantry defending Spearhead, and
they're mainly garrison troops."

DeSoto nodded in understanding but continued with his point anyway. "Yeah, but the initial
phase of this op calls for a 'special op' infiltration of the Jaffa base and, no disrespect to the
Sintesian Ground Force, but the bears aren't exactly the most stealthy soldiers I ever met, you
know?"

A small smile appeared on Sam's lips but she suppressed it sternly before it had a chance to
blossom. "Point taken, Colonel, what do you have in mind?"

It was DeSoto's turn to shrug. "We've gotta have at least one or two spare special forces units
lying around…"

Colonel Bannon was nodding in agreement as she glanced over the plan once more. "I've
worked with a certain Polarian ground unit that would be perfect for the infiltration op. Those
little bastards are the most natural special op soldiers I've seen."

Carter smiled at the Colonel's coarse words but respectful manner while she considered the
proposal. "Write up your proposed alterations, Rachel, and take a quick trip to Sintesia. We
need to increase interaction between the various services so go see the Ground Force
Commander yourself. His Alliance grade is A-4, which makes him a Major General equivalent;
so act accordingly, especially since the Alliance Grand Council is in session this week. Touch
base with Shiv and the Office of Protocol about procedure, just so you don't start a war." Carter
added with an impish smile.

Bannon affected a wounded look and DeSoto hid an honest smile, his first since the meeting
began, behind his hand.

June 25th 2010
Dal'cor Shipyards, Union Core Territories

Hek'at looked out over the six half-completed Hat'ak class Motherships and suppressed a sigh
that filled the observation dome. The Jaffa were working the subjugated yard workers hard and
production had risen to new levels. Sabotage had risen to new levels as well, in response to the
increasingly harsh pace Bast was forcing upon them. Dal'cor was an old world, its people having
been under the thumb of the System Lords for over five hundred years, their civilisation geared
entirely towards the production of Motherships, al'kesh and udajeets. The fact that rebellion
was fomenting among a people as thoroughly suppressed as the Dal'corians, spoke volumes of
the harshness of Bast's newfound attitude.

"Hek'at…"

Hek'at schooled his features into impassiveness and turned to face the person who had spoken.
"Hello, Ok'ran."

The Jaffa Second, Ok'ran, grinned wryly. "Our old Master would have had your neck if he had
seen you standing there with your back exposed to an open door."

Shaking his head in amusement, Hek'at laughed out loud. "Ahhh, if I'm not safe among my
Jaffa, I don't deserve to be First Prime!" Looking askance at his old friend, Hek'at remembered
the old, simple days when he was but a Jaffa of the Legions, and not First Prime. "What brings
you here Ok'ran?"

The Second shrugged lightly. "The weapon factories have been churning out the new designs
Bast has been providing us. We now have enough to begin full-scale training exercises with. I
want you permission to take four wings out and practice using the new missiles."

A simple enough request, Hek'at thought. "Approved." He replied out loud.

Ok'ran turned to leave but hesitated for a second. "Hek'at…the men are…unsettled."

Hek'at sighed internally but let no sign of his frustration reach his face. He had known this was
coming, ever since the regular report from Sohag filtered in this morning.

As the First Prime remained silent, the Second frowned deeply. "Hek'at, our lives belong to
Bast, our faith in her is unswerving, yet she too has a duty, to expend our lives in pursuit of her
glory, not because she is simply frustrated!" Ok'ran's voice had risen steadily and he was almost
shouting by the end. Breathing deeply, he tried to get a grip on his anger.

Hek'at, for his part, merely watched his old friend steadily. He had felt a similar burst of anger
when he had read the daily update from Sohag first thing this morning. Apparently, two of the
Jaffa in Bast's Praetorian Guard were a minute late forming up for her escort. Bast had
summarily executed them on the spot. Now from Lord Yu, or the long dead Apophis, this would
have barely raised an eyebrow, but the Jaffa under Bast had been given extraordinary freedom
of thought and of action for over twenty years, especially of late when new training and tactics
had been instituted in order to stop the senseless body counts of past battles. Since Bast's
defeat at the Tau'ri homeworld, she had become harder, more prone to harsh action and the
effect it was having upon the rank and file among the Jaffa was 'profound'.

He shook his head and sighed heavily. "I don't know what to say, Ok'ran…we're Jaffa. They are
Gods. The line is clear and things, for good or for ill, eventually change."

Ok'ran grimaced. "Sometimes, change is unnecessary, even unwise. Hek'at, the disquiet
among the Legions is growing. If you have any intention of returning to Bast, you had best do it
soon. Only you can turn her from the path she has begun to tread."

Wincing at the near overt mention of a Jaffa rebellion, Hek'at raised his hands in surrender. "I
understand, Ok'ran, but she'll just send me away again. She's made it fairly clear she doesn't
want me around for the moment. Besides, I assume you read the rest of that report…?"

Ok'ran nodded, half in acknowledgement of the intentional subject change. "The Tau'ri forces
have been uncharacteristically silent of late, the reports of their build-up surprises me little."

"Exactly." Hek'at replied. "Things are coming to a head. The failed attack upon their
homeworld has brought several new races into the Alliance, most notably of which, is the
Tollan."

The First Prime turned away from the massive viewport and moved over to a small control
pedestal near the center of the observation dome. Waving his hand across the surface, the
controls powered up and a large holographic display filled the other half of the dome. A
representation of the Galaxy floated in mid-air with small coloured areas appearing, denoting
territories, both allied and hostile.

Ok'ran moved up next to Hek'at, by the console, and growled audibly. "Who would of thought
those p'tahk would have deigned to get their hands dirty! They have always left the fighting to
their client races…"

Hek'at gave a feral smile. "I would assume they became more active once they saw that the
Tau'ri were closing the technological gap far more quickly than they ever anticipated. The
Tollan have never exactly been the best of friends to the Tau'ri and watching their empire grow
must have made the politicians on Tollana very nervous, enough so that they decided to join the
Alliance before the Alliance decided they didn't need the Tollan after all."

Ok'ran nodded in agreement. "You know O'Neill will be coming for us soon." He stated quietly.

Hek'at's lips tightened. "Yes. We have barely begun to replace our losses from the battle above
the Tau'ri homeworld, while our intelligence indicates that O'Neill has replaced nearly everything
he lost and, incredibly enough, has even added a new ship-type to his inventory."

"Oh?" Ok'ran replied in surprise. He knew that Tau'ri build-times for their ships were much less
than for their Motherships, mainly due to their lack of polish and sophistication, but they got the
job done and he had been trying desperately to streamline construction methods in the
Dal'corian yards and among the others of the Union, efforts that had so far met with mixed
results.

Hek'at grimaced. "I sent a couple of fast, cloaked scouts to make recon runs of the Alliance
systems and we've picked up this new vessel among the Tau'ri fleets." Manipulating the
console, Hek'at brought up a rough, three-dimensional hologram of the King William class
cruiser. "We've not seen it at the front yet, so we have little idea of its capabilities but there are
clear signs of Tollan technology integrated into the vessel."

"They didn't waste much time." The Second commented grumpily.

"Would you?" Hek'at responded in mild amusement. "We have a few new tricks of our own that
might help rebalance any new surprises they throw at us when then come for Gryphon."

It took several seconds for the casual statement to penetrate into Ok'ran's mind. "Wait a
minute, we're pretty sure they intend to attack but why do you think they're going to attack
Gryphon?!"

Hek'at shrugged. "Not so much attack as liberate. They know we're relatively weak at the
moment and they have to hits us hard before we regain our balance. The only bit of territory
we own that they covet is Gryphon. Yes, they'll try to retake Gryphon before our new
construction comes on-line and everything settles into a stalemate once more. Mak'an has been
doing a good job there but we'd better make this our last stop and head straight for Gryphon.
There's a Mothership rotation due in a few days and we'll catch a ride with the 'God's Thunder',
who's heading in."

Nodding absently, Ok'ran studied the glowing markers that denoted fleet dispositions around
Union territory, and especially around Gryphon. "You'll need to pull a fair amount of ships off the
line if we're to have enough of a fleet to hold Gryphon."

Hek'at stared intently at the burning red holographic sphere of Gryphon. "So be it."

Alliance Council Summit, Chamber Of Light, Sintesia

Every pair of eyes in the high-ceilinged chamber stared at the large green holographic sphere of
Gryphon.

"Supreme Allied Commander O'Neill has stated his intent to liberate Gryphon on 12 November,
Earth calendar."

Eyes moved from the holographic display to Admiral Patterson, who stood in the middle of the
floor in the Chamber of Light, the meeting place of the Alliance Council on Sintesia.

Lord Sir Henry Patterson, Admiral of the Alliance Fleet, met the stares of the Council and smiled
somewhat ruefully. "Of course, the initial plan was to retake Gryphon and dig in but the losses
incurred by Bast at the Battle of Sol has encouraged us to undertake a more daring and, we
hope, completely unanticipated maneuver."

The holographic sphere of Gryphon shrunk to a small blip, set against the backdrop of the
Galaxy, as another red blip appeared, deep in Union territory that in turn, suddenly grew to fill
the projection area.

"Sohag." Patterson stated. "Base of operations for Bast and her Union."

A murmur of disquiet rose up out of the assembled Councilors at seeing the fortress planet and
its web of Motherships and orbital defences. The array of Navy Admirals at the edges of the
Chamber sat stone faced. It was they who were going to have to go against those defences
after all.

The Admiral smiled grimly at the response and continued with his briefing. "We lack accurate
data on the defenses of Sohag but what we do have is…intimidating." He gestured towards the
hologram of Sohag that began to highlight the various elements of the defenses.

Space stations and orbital weapon platforms were scattered around the system as squadrons of
Motherships moved about in patrols, presenting any invadier with a moving target. The
Dhan'hak Class Commandship 'War Hammer', however, sat in orbit over the planet, like some
oversized sentinel, guardian of the gates, protector of Bast's fortress planet. The powerful
vessel was crewed by Jaffa totally loyal to Bast and it was the only capital ship Bast allowed in
orbit, lest some underling System Lord attempt a quick assassination bombardment against the
Palace.

The diminutive Councilor Lowtru, of Polaris, shook his head in exasperation. "Will there be
anything left of the fleet, once we take Sohag?"

Admiral Patterson smiled at the Councilors words that assumed that they would be successful in
their attack upon the Goa'uld Union capital. "Our predicted losses are, of course, high but we
believe the objective is worth the price. That price, however, would be far less if we can bring
more support into the Alliance…"

As Patterson's words trailed off, all eyes in the Chamber of Light turned to the group of reptilian
humanoids that sat in the VIP guest section of the chambers. The Susparti Empire had agreed
to begin serious diplomatic talks with the Alliance after the Tollan and Adenan joined after the
Battle of Sol. The Tollan, long-time isolationists were, however, known to most of the space-
faring races in the Galaxy for their complete disinterest in alliances or exchanges of technology.
That they would come out of their self-imposed isolation to join the rapidly expanding Alliance
spoke volumes of the changing times and had done more to begin to change attitudes among
the more reserved races than years of negotiation by the Diplomatic Corp. Much to Ambassador
Shiv's simultaneous disgust and pleasure.

The lead representative of the Susparti contingent, Zuuth Maal, inclined her head as a double
set of eyelids blinked hard under the massive hologram before her. She shifted under her long
robes and a series of gutteral snarls and hisses emanated from the elongated jaw and snout.
Less than a second later, a smooth, feminine voice rang out from the translator device hanging
around her neck.

"You have achieved much to date." Zuuth Maal commented. "I am no fleet expert. I cannot
comment as to the merits or risks of the action you propose, I simply ask myself if joining your
Alliance is worth giving up our sovereignty. We have done well against Goa'uld incursions to
date. I can assure you, that the Susparti populace will not look kindly to being governed from
Earth or Sintesia."

Patterson winced slightly, he knew a political question when he heard one and he looked over at
the Russian Premier, Illiana Kutsov, who was the Alliance Councilor for Earth, being the current
Chair for Earth's World Council. Kutsov opened her mouth to reply when the Entrican Councilor,
Doman Fadil, stood up in apparent anger.

"Diplomacy aside, Zuuth Maal, I resent the implication the Entrican people are some sort of client
race to the Terrans or Sintesians! We may not have as powerful a fleet element or ground
force but, by Kiith, we are our own people!" The Entrican Councilor replied forcefully. His race
were almost entirely human looking except for more integral ears, a wiry build that bordered on
anorexic to Terran eyes and a slightly green tinged skin, due to their copper rich blood. Doman
Fadil's face was taking on a very green colour as blood rushed to his face in apparent anger. "I
for one think we are overstretching ourselves in attacking Sohag and believe we should settle for
liberating Gryphon. Sohag can wait until we are stronger."

It was Admiral Marakesh who winced now. Sitting on the sidelines, the Entrican High Admiral
had gone several rounds with his government and was unable to convince them of the necessity
of attacking Sohag.

Zuuth Maal looked at Doman Fadil in apparent surprise, although, one could be forgiven for
anthropomorphizing when dealing with reptilian facial features that really didn't move all that
much.

"If I have given offense, I will accept challenge in order to facilitate balance between our two
peoples…" Zuuth Maal began.

Patterson didn't know exactly what the Susparti meant by 'accepting challenge' to restore a
'balance' but none of the things his imagination was coming up with was good. He didn't see
any swords or pistols among the Susparti contingent but decided to head off any challenges, just
in case. "That won't be necessary, Zuuth Maal, but you can clearly see that in the Alliance,
everyone is given an equal voice and, though this joining of star nations began life as the Earth
Alliance, I assure you, the label is losing favor rapidly among all member worlds, including my
own. We are simply the Alliance, where every voice will be heard." He finished rapidly, making
a mental note for the anthropological department to investigate this 'challenge' response. The
last thing the Alliance needed was a species that regularly declared duels with members of its
allied worlds.

Zuuth Maal nodded acceptingly and Patterson gave an internal sigh of relief. "Zuuth Maal, on my
world, we have a fable known as the Prisoner's Dilemma that has some application here. I
doubt I could easily explain the people and situations right now but in terms of the Galactic
situation, it basically comes down to this; two parties are under threat from an outside force, the
first to act can escape the threat but only by sacrificing the other, whereas the two parties
working in unison can overcome the threat forever."

"Simply put, Zuuth Maal, we are stronger together, than apart."

The casual 'diplomatic cocktail party' had been in full swing for almost four hours now and
Brigadier General Samantha Carter was beginning to wish she had gone easier on the mead
from Hwa'mee, one of the smaller worlds of the Alliance. The fermented honey wine was
incredibly potent, though one couldn't tell until one had drank enough to saturate one's system, it
was that smooth.

"You're going to have one hell of a hangover when it's time to depart, tomorrow…" Patterson
commented wryly, reading her mind as he grinned into his glass of orange juice. He had had
several glasses of wine earlier but had switched to juice once the social demands had been met.

Carter gave the Admiral a gimlet eye. "I am perfectly capable of handling my drink, Admiral.
Hangovers are for people of weaker constitutions."

Patterson made a non-committal noise. "Possibly. But as far as I know, alcohol and 'Gate travel
don't mix well at all. O'Neill once told me a story about SG-1 and SG-3 and a party with the
natives of some world, P3X-565, I think it was, and you…"

"All lies, I assure you..." Carter interrupted sourly. "Needless to say, I shall be staying on
Sintesia an extra day or two for important Alliance matters."

The Admiral nodded sagely and scanned the assembled politicians and military officers as they
talked about anything and everything. To think, ten years ago, he had merely been the senior
Admiral in the British Royal Navy, a powerful if rather small surface navy. Now, here he was,
almost 25,000 light years away from Earth, at a cocktail party with almost thirty different
species, nearly half of which were nowhere near humanoid in form. A prime example of the
Alliance's diversity was the Lzaal. Commodore Han was currently talking to the Lzaal Councillor,
Dxin, who for all intents and purposes, looked like a oversized houseplant. The Goa'uld hadn't
threatened the Lzaal, indeed, the System Lords appeared to be completely ignorant of their
existence, but then, the snakes can't exactly use plant life as hosts, can they?

Patterson shook his head in amusement and turned back to the commander of Spearhead. "I
didn't think Kutsov would let O'Neill stay away from this Summit, he is after all the Supreme
Allied Commander. No disrespect intended, Sam, but you don't exactly carry the same weight…"

Carter frowned in mild residual annoyance at her irrepressible commander. "Yeah, but the
really important meetings that require the SAC-SGC aren't being held until tomorrow and Jack
figured he could get away with sending me in his stead until then. When he arrives tomorrow,
be sure to give him some grief about it."

"Whatever for?" Patterson replied archly. "The man's smart, I only wish I trusted the diplomatic
skills of my immediate sub-ordinates to send in my place as well."

"That bad?"

The Admiral shook his head. "They're fine strategists, tacticians and soldiers but I guarantee
that Earth would be at war with half the species in the room if any of them tried their hand at
diplomacy."

"Ouch, sir." Sam commented wryly. She was about to add to the casual banter when her eyes
fell on the Susparti ambassador, Zuuth Maal, standing to one side of the room, in deep
conversation with Councilor Althin and the Councilor Doman Fadil.

"What's your take on the Susparti, Admiral?"

Patterson looked up and followed her gaze towards the conversing trio. "I can't comment on
them personally, though they seem a bit flighty. Having them join the Alliance would be bloody
marvelous though. Their Empire spans seven core worlds and five frontier colonies, spread out
over five hundred light years. They've been fighting the Goa'uld for nearly three hundred years
and have held on to every bit of territory they own."

Carter nodded. "Bringing them in would be great." She gave a soft sigh. "Sometimes though, I
get the feeling we're expanding a little too fast. Our relations with each other are still relatively
fragile. One diplomatic incident could bring the entire house of cards down."

"Possibly." Patterson replied. "We have several things going for us, first among them being the
threat of annihilation from the System Lords. The prospect of death does concentrate one's
mind and goals wonderfully."

"Yeah." Carter put her drink down on the nearest table and turned to the Admiral fully. "I'm
calling it a night, sir."

Patterson nodded agreeably. "I'll see you tomorrow before you leave?"

Carter smiled painfully. "Yes, sir. That Entrican mead is as good as an Iris when it coming to
stopping someone from using a Stargate."

The Admiral chuckled. "Goodnight, General."

"Night, sir."

Chapter 2
Smoke & Mirrors

18:46 ZULU
June 29th 2010
Defence Command Centre, Edo City, Gryphon

General Roberts looked over the rows of technicians, enlisted and officers, sat at their consoles.
They were all quiet and tense. The last week had been hectic but a strange kind of hectic.
They had been moving personnel, equipment and aircraft all over Gryphon but they had been
doing in secret which added about five extra layers of difficulty to any task, no matter how
simple. It had been stressful, backbreaking work.

But now it was complete.

Roberts glanced at General Tyler, who sat nearby at the secondary command console. Tyler
gave him a tight smile and a nod and pressed a button on his console that activated an all band
radio signal. The Goa'uld jamming was still in effect but some of the techniques the Gryphonese
techs had invented, combined with the powerfull all band signal meant that all the necessary
units would receive his brief signal.

"All units, Bushido, I say again, Bushido!"

As the general's order went out, every timeline on every combat computer on Gryphon started
up. In the Command Centre, the dedicated timeline display screen showed the time hack
moving up to the first marker.

"Unit One is moving out." A voice announced over the speakers.

All the tactical displays showed a squadron of Sabre fighters screaming up and outward from
the Sanctury City of Hokkaido and into space. The closest patrolling udajeets, altered their
course to intercept. Within minutes, a dogfight between the two groups had begun.

The time hack passed over another marker.

"Units Two and Three are moving out." The speaker announced.

On the tactical hologram, two larger groups lifted off from two other Sanctury Cities on the far
side of Gryphon. Both groups were composed of Sabres and Pegasus bombers and their targets
were two Hat'ak class Motherships patrolling that area of space.

By now, the console operators were talking to each other, calling out contacts and coordinating
the operation. It was mainly a psychological thing since everybody involved knew the plan
intimately and the jamming made communications sporadic at best. The effort at
communications mainly let the pilots know that they weren't alone.

Mothership 'Fist of the Gods', Wakazi Base, Gryphon

The Jaffa Second, Mak'an, who was in command of the Gryphon Siege forces during Hek'at's
absence growled as two new groups of small craft rose up from the surface and headed
towards the Mothership squadron in Sector 3-19.

His orders were straightforward. Keep the Gryphonese in. Keep the Alliance out. "All ships to
full alert! Send two echelons of udajeets to suppress that initial squadron of fighters and order
the 'Blood Axe' to support Squadron 3-19!"

As the Jaffa manning the consoles on the bridge of the grounded Mothership complied with his
orders, Mak'an sat back in mild satisfaction. The Gryphonese attack would soon be put down
and…

"Second! A fourth group of fighters and bombers has been detected!"

Mak'an glared at the Jaffa for giving such a useless report. "How many and where?!"

The Jaffa looked up from his console in consternation. "We see at least forty aircraft, eight
hundred kilometers out, barely a kilometer off the ground, heading right for us!"

"Fek'shoa! Recall echelons 3 and 4! Get them down here now!" Mak'an ordered tightly.

Roberts glanced at the time hack as it passed over the third marker. Less than four minutes had
passed at this point and now, there were no more markers for at least ten more, at which point
the timeline branched into four separate choices. This was the trickiest part of the operation.
The Jaffa in command could do several things and it was his response that dictated the next
action. They weren't relying on him to do anything in particular, for having a plan that relied on
the enemy doing a particular thing was always a sure method for disaster. No, the Jaffa's
response merely dictated the form of the Gryphon forces next move, a move that would come
in…nine minutes, even if the Jaffa commander made no response at all.

The seconds ticked by as the three groups of fighters and bombers fought tenaciously against
steadily mounting opposition.

A noise of satisfaction came from a nearby officer. He was stood behind a console operator,
monitoring the attack upon the command Mothership parked at the overrun Wakazi base. The
officer turned round with a grim smile on his face. "Sir, Unit Four has cleared the sky of
udajeets over Wakazi and has commenced an attack on the Mothership."

Roberts nodded calmly and glanced at the tactical display. Another officer looked tensely up at
him.

"General, the majority of the Death Glider forces in orbit are heading down to Wakazi! Nearly
two hundred fifty birds."

Roberts winced. Unit Four had taken some losses in the attack and only numbered thirty-six.
One of his available options anticipated this sort of reaction to his attacks and it was time to try
some sleight of hand.

"Option Three, Tyler." Roberts ordered.

Tyler nodded and pressed the appropriate commands. Three of the four branches disappeared
and the time hack crossed over into the remaining timeline and passed the next marker.

"Unit Smoke is heading out." The speakers announced calmly. "All Mirror Units are on hot
standby."

Unit Smoke consisted of two squadrons of Sabres, escorting the large but fast Royal transport,
launching from Edo and looking for all the world like an evacuation of the Royal Family. In
reality, the King and Queen were still in the Palace bunker but the enemy couldn't know that and
the Royal transport made a mighty tempting target.

The cigar-shaped transport burned ions at a tremendous rate as it accelerated out of the
atmosphere and headed away from the planet's gravity well. The Sabres kept pace easily and
their pilots scanned the space around them for enemy Death Gliders.

Mak'an was beginning to get worried. His initial fleet dispositions had ensured that no matter
which way the Gryphonese forces might try to break the blockade, he would have a Mothership
or at least an echelon of udajeets in position to intercept.

The problem was that the Gryphonese were hitting his forces hard, throwing so many assets in
so many directions, he was being forces to strip the blockade of ships to reinforce the initial
intercepting forces that were steadily being ground away.

The plan was a losing proposition for the Gryphonese of course. Their position was untenable,
for they lacked the power projection to hold any short-term gains they might secure and they
were paying a high price for it; but he had a growing suspicion that they were setting him up for
something else. Something they were willing to pay that price for…

"New contact leaving the capital city! One transport and twenty-four fighters!"

"A transport?" Mak'an responded in surprise. "Show me!"

The tactical hologram disappeared to be replaced with a wire frame image of the Royal
transport. It was fast, with heavy defensive weaponry and heavily escorted. Clearly someone
important was onboard and that someone was trying to make an escape.

This was it! Everything else was a feint, a distraction to allow an evacuation of the enemy
leaders. This could not be allowed! "Have Mothership squadron 5-9 make a short intercept
jump. I want that transport captured or at the very least, destroyed!"

"Jaffa, kree!" The bridge Jaffa replied.

General Tyler smiled in satisfaction as two Motherships, high above the plane of ecliptic,
disappear from their sensors, only to reappear seconds later, right in the path of Unit Smoke's
course out of the system. The Royal Transport began evasive maneuvers as the Sabres
screamed forward to engage the cloud of Death Gliders that was erupting from the two
Motherships.

"They've taken the bait, sir!" Tyler called out to Roberts. "And the rest of the blockade force
has spread out to cover the relocated Motherships but gaps are beginning to appear in their
net!"

General Roberts nodded grimly. "Order all units to press their distraction attacks home and then
launch all Mirror couriers!"

"Yes, sir!"

In the primary hanger in the Manticore City-Shipyards, six stripped down Sabres powered up
their anti-grav units and floated off the bay floor.

Commander Kirsty 'Razor' Stephanovich shifted herself deeper into her seat and ran her eye
over the displays one last time. Everything looked good. She looked up, out of the cockpit
towards the control station, high above the hanger. There the Hanger Boss saw all the green
lights on his repeater displays and nodded in satisfaction.

"Mirror Units, prepare for launch. May light shine in all the dark places you walk." The Hanger
Boss intoned over the com-link.

Razor smiled at the Gryphon benediction and steeled herself for what was quite possibly the last
five minutes of her life. Behind her, in a shielded container, sat the data storage unit that this
entire operation was about. A copy sat in every other Mirror Unit Sabre, multiplying the chances
of the message getting out.

"Mirror Lead, launch!"

She barely had time to look up before the first Sabre screamed out of the hanger bay and
immediately shot up into the sky. The second Sabre was hot on its heels, barely clearing the
hanger entrance before the third Sabre shot forward.

Last in line, Razor took a deep breath, just as the fifth Sabre howled forward…blasting out the
bay doors…

She slammed her throttles to their forward stops and was rewarded by inertia slamming her
back into her seat. A small corner of her mind reflected that the inertial dampers actually
negated 99% of the g-effects she was actually under and had she not be using dampers, she'd
be nothing but a bio-matter smear against the back of the cockpit.

Her Sabre shot past the doors and into the sky. Pulling sharply on the stick, the nose of the
fighter went vertical and the sky rapidly darkened. The other five Sabres could been seen
trailing ahead of her, their ion engines creating five bright stars for her to follow, even as the sky
around her turned to black and the stars appeared.

"New contacts!" The Jaffa at the sensor station called out.

Mak'an turned from the communication console operator with whom he had been conferring
with and looked up at the tactical hologram. Six new blips were rising up from the planet's
surface…fast. "Identify!" He ordered.

The other Jaffa shook his head. "The appear to be enemy fighters but their drive power is
almost half again the norm and their speed almost double. No energy signatures indicating
active weapons."

"Scouts." Mak'an concluded flatly. His mind was abuzz. Why where these fast but unarmed
scouts launching now? What use could six be? Suicide craft?! "What are their projected
courses?!" He called out with urgency. His engaged Mothership's udajeet compliments were all
committed and a dedicated suicide craft would be hard to shoot down with a Motherships
weapons alone.

Instead of replying, the Jaffa simply brought the courses up on the tactical display. Mak'an paled
as he saw that the courses were nowhere near his Motherships. In fact, they were flying
straight down, away from the plane of ecliptic, directly towards the equidistant gaps between
Motherships as the massive vessels had spread out to fill the spaces left open by the
Motherships stripped from the blockade to intercept earlier feints.

"Recall all udajeets! Intercept those Tau'ri scouts!" He demanded.

Another Second looked up from his console. "But what about the transport? We've almost got it
turned around…"

Mak'an felt the pressure suddenly increase ten-fold. He was almost positive everything up to
this point had been a feint so as to allow the scouts to escape but that transport…damn! He
couldn't take the risk. "Keep that group on the transport! Everything else goes after those
scouts!"

Alarms began to bleep with increasing urgency as Stephanovich's avionics registered numerous
echelons of Death Gliders locking on to her Sabre. The other Sabres were now peeling away
from each other, heading for the gaps around the lone Hat'ak Mothership in this south polar
sector around the planet. She smiled tightly as the Mothership began to move in one direction
before turning sharply and heading in another, the Jaffa commander obviously having a hard
time deciding which of the six couriers to engage.

A new tone sounded as six Death Gliders launched from the hangerbay of that Mothership and
headed to intercept the rest of the Mirror units as they continued to break for deep space. They
had to get clear of the gravity well of the planet before they could engage their hyperdrives and
thought the earlier feints had removed the rest of the considerable Death Glider fleet, this last
echelon, obviously held in reserve for exactly a situation like this made their mad dash a race.

And it was going to be close. The Death Gliders would enter energy range just before they
cleared the gravity well. The Jaffa would be able to make exactly one pass before the Sabres
could jump. Damn, it was going to be close.

"Lead, Six." The crisp voice of her commanding officer called out.

"Six." 'Razor' replied tersely.

"Angle off, Six." He ordered just as curtly.

She shook her head, even though he couldn't see it, even though as she acknowledge his order.
"Roger, Lead. See you back at the barn."

Typing in a couple of quick commands, her computer generated a new course that angled away
from the Death Gliders in front of her and the Gliders behind her. It added an extra thirty two
seconds of flight time before she could jump but it also put her another five seconds out of the
Jaffa pilots engagement envelope. Being last in line, she was the only plane far enough away
from either group for it to make a difference.

Unable to shake the feeling of abandoning her friends, she pulled back on the stick and her
Sabre angled tightly away from the others.

Mak'an watched the single blip fly away from the expanding group of its compatriots and felt his
emotions sink. The breakaway of six udajeets from the pursuing forces that smoothly turned
onto a new intercept course with no orders brought a small measure of satisfaction at their
obvious competence but that still didn't stop him from acknowledging that that fighter was
probably going to get away.

"Tau'ri fighters entering firing range of the blocking udajeets." A Jaffa announced.

The remaining five Sabres began to swerve from side to side as their raced for their gaps in the
Mothership line. Unfortunately for Ensign 'Trojan' Wilkes, Mirror 3, the lone Hat'ak had chosen it
as its target and the relatively massive bulk of the golden pyramid and its oversized charcoal
colored superstructure interposed itself right where Mirror 3 had planned to make its jump to
hyperspace. Orange blasts of plasma erupted from the batteries on the Mothership and filled
the space around the Sabre as 'Trojan' wrenched his fighter into tight, evasive turns.

Inevitably, the plasma blasts bracketed the Sabre and forced it to fly down a channel long
enough for one of the intercepting Death Gliders to streak in and pump a quick volley of plasma
bursts into the stripped down fighter. The shields flared, flickered and died, several plasma
bursts slamming into the reduced armour and ripping Mirror 3 to pieces.

Stephanovich heard 'Trojan' scream as his fighter disintegrated around him and his transmission
ended abruptly. Pushing aside her remorse, she adjusted her Sabre back onto its optimum
course and tried to ignore the chatter from the other Mirror units as they were destroyed one by
one.

Two more Sabres died instantly as the intercepting Death Gliders made their single pass, guns
blazing. Another one took serious damage to their hyperdrive system and was unable to make it
to hyperspace and had begun to engage his pursuers while the last Sabre, Mirror 2, had taken
some damage to his life support systems.

"I'm gonna make the jump anyway…" he called out to 'Razor'. "…a little luck and I might even
survive long enough. Either way, the Alliance will be able to pick up my fighter and the data."

'Razor' grimaced. It was gonna take over two weeks to get to Alliance territory with the
hyperdrives on the Sabres and although the life support systems had been seriously upgraded to
handle such a long term trip, the odds of a damaged system being able to last that long
were…risky. "Understood. Good luck, 'Wheels'…" She replied just before his engines flared,
space seemingly twisting around him and with a flash, he shot into hyperspace.

Glancing at the sensor display, she saw the firefights that still raged across the Gryphon system
and the wreckage from those battles that drifted away into the dark.

"I hope this was worth the price." She remarked sadly. The computer beeped for her attention
as the gravity well of the Gryphon had faded enough for her to safely engage her hyperdrive. A
bright flash and her Sabre rattled violently as a series of plasma bursts erupted all around her.

Without hesitation she slammed her throttles forward and jumped into hyperspace.

Defence Command Centre, Edo City, Gryphon

General Roberts watched with no little relief as the two surviving Sabre couriers flickered and
disappeared into hyperspace. The Command Centre let loose a cheer.

"All right, settle down!" General Tyler ordered sternly. "We've still got people fighting up
there…begin pulling back our units, let's see if we can disengage our ships with a minimum of
casualties!"

The command staff became serious once more and began to send out new orders, plotting new
vectors and bringing their people back home.

"We did it." Roberts commented softly, quietly enough so that only Tyler could hear him.

"Aye." Tyler acknowledged as his people returned to their duties. "But the price…"

"Needed to be paid." The senior man added remorselessly. "If we don't let the Alliance know
how desperate our situation is and get help, we're done for as an independent world." He shook
his head. "How many did we lose?"

Tyler glanced at his boards, his face grim. "About what we expected. A little more than four
squadrons of fighters, three of bombers…we lost the Royal Transport as well."

Roberts sighed. "Bring our people home, Tyler. I'll be in my quarters."

Tyler saluted as the General stood up and walked slowly from the Command Center, lost in
thought.

18 hours later
Hat'ak Class Mothersip 'God's Thunder'

Hek'at walked onto the bridge and saw Ok'ran already at the main console.

"Arrival in one minute." Ok'ran informed the First Prime.

Hek'at nodded and sat down on the command throne. The seconds ticked by silently until the
main console beeped twice. "Exiting hyperspace." OK'ran announced.

The 'God's Thunder' shuddered as the hyperspace conduit opened up and decanted the
Mothership into normal space. A Jaffa at the sensor station frowned and looked up at Ok'ran.
"Second…?"

"I see it." Ok'ran replied gruffly. Hek'at looked at his friend enquiringly who answer to the
unspoken question without turning from his console, which he was working furiously. "We
almost ran into a big chunk of wreckage. It appears to be part of the secondary superstructure
of a Hat'ak."

"What?!" Hek'at exclaimed.

Ok'ran grimaced as data flashed across his console. "Several Motherships on the perimeter are
showing signs of damage…the 'Sword of Wrath' appears to be missing large parts of its
secondary superstructure." He finished with mild irony.

"Incoming signal from the 'Fist of the Gods'!" A Jaffa announced.

"Put Mak'an through." Hek'at replied with building anger.

The face of the Second appeared on the main screen and Hek'at glared at him. "Report!" He
barked.

"First Prime…' Mak'an acknowledged. "…less than twenty hours ago, the forces of Gryphon
staged a massive attack on our orbital forces. Their attack was repulsed but two of their
fighters managed to break through the blockade."

Ok'ran glanced at the First Prime who was quietly seething. "Transmit the records of the battle,
Jaffa. I will review the action and you had best pray to Bast that I do not find you at fault or you
will be guarding the most distant outpost I can find by the end of the week."

"Immediately, First Prime." Mak'an replied quickly and cut the connection. Data files begin to
spill into the ship's computers and Hek'at began to replay the battle on his throne's built in
holographic display.

In the ensuing silence, Ok'ran left the main console and moved up next to Hek'at, watching the
small hologram that floated in front of the throne intently. "So they've gotten out." He
commented heavily.

Hek'at nodded absently as he watched the Gyphonese send wave after wave of fighters out in all
directions, skillfully drawing Mak'an's forces out of position with a series of feints until the final
group of scout fighters had made an impressively fast break for deep space. Mak'an had
redeemed himself somewhat by holding some fighters in reserve that had been responsible for
eliminating most of the scouts but two had escaped.

"What do you think it was about?" Ok'ran wondered.

Hek'at shrugged. "Could be any number of things. None of which would be good for us."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Retaliate." Hek'at replied absently. "They lost a substantial portion of their remaining forces
trying to get a message out. No doubt it was a request for help from the rest of the Tau'ri fleet
but their losses have left several of their sanctuary cities vulnerable. Let us try and take these
cities before O'Neill arrives. It will mean more commitment of his forces to try and dig us out."

"You think he'll succeed in retaking Gryphon?" Ok'ran asked in surprise.

"It's possible. If he attacks before we can get our new construction on line…" Hek'at replied,
trailing off grimly. He shook his head. "Regardless, I intend to make it as difficult for him as
possible. Begin distributing the stores of tash'khat missiles to the other Motherships and begin
the Jaffa pilots in instruction on their usage. We don't have enough for live fire exercises but dry
runs will be enough for now."

"What are you going to do?" Ok'ran asked softly.

Hek'at gave a tight smile. "Talk to Bast. Maybe she can spare some ships."

OK'ran's expression showed what he thought of the odds of that happening.

June 30th 2010
Fort Khan, Eastern Siberia, Earth

Colonel Bannon stepped off the ramp of the Orca transport and breathed out heavily in the arctic
cold. With some amazement she watched her breath glitter and freeze before falling to the
ground as snow. Master Sergeant Powell, her ever present shadow grunted in mild
amusement, seemingly unaffected by the biting cold than his was by any other form of
discomfort. The large figure of Teal'c clumped down the ramp, silently remembering the last
time he was in this part of the planet, O'Neill had pushed him out of the plane at twenty
thousand feet. Master Sergeant Booth grimaced as he sank slightly into the snow. He hated the
snow.

A white suited figure came trudging up to them out of the blinding snow, his face hidden and his
voice muffled within the heavy fur lining of his hood. "Welcome to Siberia!"

The man in the white suit led them through the howling wind and snow towards a large
concrete bunker with a heavy metal door. The door opened as they approached and the group
jogged straight inside, the door slamming shut behind them.

Standing inside a small antechamber, a wave of heat seemed to hit them and Bannon almost
staggered in shock, her face seemingly to be on fire.

"You get used to the transition. It's good, it tells you your nerves aren't frostbitten." The other
man announced in the sudden quiet.

Bannon, Teal'c and the two Master Sergeants looked at the man as he pulled down his hood.
His face was long, all harsh angles and deep clefts like a canyon as if he had been weathered
over the course of millennia. "Brigadier General Foster, of the 'Spartans'." The older man
introduced himself.

Colonel Bannon and Master Sergeants Powell and Booth snapped to attention in small confines
of the antechamber and Foster returned their salute with a quiet smile. Teal'c simply bowed as
best he could.

"I'm sorry, sir, we didn't expect you to bring us in yourself…" Bannon began apologetically.

Foster waved her off as he began to pull off his thick coat. A row of similar coats hung on a
rack along the entire wall. "Relax, Colonel. I needed the fresh air and I'm more than a little
intrigued as to you presence here. Carter was a little short on details."

As Powell hung their coats up, Bannon met the General's gaze. "I have a mission for the
Spartans, sir."

"When DeSoto told me you had been sent to Siberia, I thought he was exaggerating…" Bannon
explained wryly.

"Nope." Foster replied with apparent pride in the fact he had been exiled about as far away
from civilization you could get while still being on Earth. "We're thousands of kilometers from
practically anywhere decent except for SGC (East). Khabarovsk is only a few hundred klicks that
way." He added, pointing towards the far wall. "This place was built as a backup facility in case
the Jaffa secured a beachhead during their invasion. Now it's a hardship post. Officially, we're
a secondary support unit for Khabarovsk but in reality, we're left out here to our own devices.
Out of sight and out of mind for the mucky mucks at Headquarters."

Foster had led his four visitors out of the antechamber, past the main security checkpoint and
into the Main Corridor.

Fort Khan was an almost entirely subterranean base. This only surface elements being the
landing pad, elevator/hangers, the main entrance and two concentric rings of defense posts,
surrounding the base. The Main Corridor ran straight for almost a kilometer, with large sub
corridors branching off every one hundred metres and smaller corridors branching of from
there. Barracks, stores, gymnasiums, cafeterias, firing ranges, motor pools. Despite being a
hardship post, the base was lavishly equipped.

A large number of these Forts had been hurriedly constructed around the world just before the
Goa'uld invasion. Fortunately, the invasion had been beaten off before the Jaffa could breakout
of their beachheads but these bases had intended to be self sufficient points of resistance,
should Earth's primary defenses be overrun.

This was Bannon's first time seeing one of these Forts, having spent the majority of the past ten
years on Spearhead. "This is very impressive, General." She commented as they were led into
the main conference room, not just talking about the base. The 12,417 men and women, both
line troops and support staff, of the Spartans had incredibly high morale, were motivated
and well trained, despite having been essentially exiled for the past six months.

Foster nodded appreciatively at her comment. "We don't like to sit on out butts around here."
He replied humorously as he sat down with mild fanfare. The others sat down round the table
as an aide entered and passed out mugs of coffee and sugar.

"So tell me what the Spartans can do for you, Colonel…" As he took a sip from his mug, which
had a single silver star enameled on it.

Bannon took a deep breath and outlined her plan.

She talked for almost twenty minutes and Foster listened silently throughout. When she
finished, she swallowed the dregs of her coffee and stared at the General expectantly as he
stared off into space. After almost a minute, Foster sighed heavily and studied the four soldiers
before him.

"Colonel Bannon, that has got to be one of the most insane, reckless and suicidal plans I have
ever heard in my life." He remarked heavily. "But I think its pure genius and Carter was right to
adopt it for this attack instead of that command center you planned to hit before. Its something
we can only make work once and Sohag would be the best place to use it." He smiled ferally.
"Count the Spartans in, Colonel."

Colonel Bannon smiled. Bast was never gonna know what hit her.

Interlude

The war had been going on for almost a decade now and as with most things, the pace of the
war ebbed and flowed. The people involved in the war are generally too caught up to really
notice such things for they are almost always grateful for the quiet periods whereas inversely,
they are too busy during the intense periods to not the difference between the two.

The attack on Earth by Bast had been the most intense point of the war so far.

As the capabilities of the Alliance grew, so did the possibilities of increased carnage and
destruction. The months after the Battle of Sol had been relatively quiet. Both sides recouped
their losses and prepared themselves for the end game, for, though it may not register on a
conscious level, the participants in war tend to feel when the turning point approaches, when
that one battle that could decide the war was near. At such times, both sides become almost
frenetic with move and countermove in order to tilt that final battle in their favor.

Now, almost five months after that momentous battle around Earth, the players in this great
game began to move their pieces once more…

July 6th 2010
Dal'cor Shipyards, Union Core Territories

"Three echelons of Death Gliders and a Hat'ak closing in, bearing 249, mark 014!" The sensor
officer called out. "Designating the Hat'ak 'Hostile 7'

Admiral Kent looked at the display calmly and turned to his new tactical action officer,
Commander Singh. "Have the Louisville, the Kutsu and their destroyer screen move to intercept
'Hostile 7'."

"Aye, sir." Commander Singh replied.

Third Fleet was fighting its way in-system, trying to get at the Shipyards here, deep in the Core
Territory of the Goa'uld Union. Three Shal'kra's and six Hat'ak's were nearing completion and
Admiral Patterson wanted those ships destroyed before they had a chance to be finished.

For nine days, Third Fleet had snuck from system to nebula, evading ever increasing Union
patrols in order to make a surprise deep strike against a supposedly secure rear area. With a
little luck, the damage to the Union morale would be more effective than the damage to the
enemy ships.

"Admiral, 'Hostile 3' has been destroyed and 'Hostile 1' is beginning to fall back with heavy
damage. We lost the Orinoko and the Southampton, though."

"Status of 'Hostile 2'?" Kent inquired emotionlessly. Two destroyers in exchange for a Shal'kra
was a good exchange rate, no matter how horrific that cold calculation meant in lives lost. The
Flag CIC shook as the ENS Ark Royal received some long-range fire from a couple of flanking
Motherships. He eyed their icons on the display but said nothing as Captain Tyler, CO of the Ark
Royal, maneuvered her vessel clear and brought up her destroyer screen to cover the big
carrier.

"'Hostile 2' is holding the line on the right. He's got guts, sir…" The sensor officer replied
daringly.

Admiral Kent smiled tightly at the officer's remark. "Quite. But his position is untenable since
the left flank is collapsing." He turned to the Fighter Ops officer. "Major, I want a hole opened
up to the shipyards."

The Air Force Major nodded and began issuing orders to Third Fleet's squadrons.

A wave of forty-eight Pegasus bombers launched from the Ark Royal as a wing of Sabres,
already holding position nearby, streaked in against the three Hat'ak's that still tried to hold the
left flank together.

The Sabres carved a path though a cloud of defending Death Gliders, covering the Pegasus
bombers as they charged against the three Motherships, pelting them with light ion cannon fire,
rail gun rounds and flechette missiles. Naquadria enhanced bombs flashed against their
shielding and as the bombers returned to the carrier, having lost eleven of their number, three
heavily damaged Motherships drifted slowly, crippled, out of position.

"Order BatCruRon 32 to make a micro-jump to these co-ordinates." The Admiral
ordered, pressing a series of numbers into the computer.

The Ares-class battleships of Battleship Squadron 32 that had stayed back from the line of combat and provided lone-range
fire support now ceased fire and increased power to their engines. One by one, the three
battleships, and their cruiser escort, oriented themselves on the Admiral's co-ordinates and, with a twisting of the fabric
of reality, jumped into hyperspace.

Seconds later they appeared in high orbit of the planet, directly above the shipyards, right at the edge of the planet's gravity well. They had,
however, something to do first. The damaged Shal'kra class Mothership, 'Hostile 1' had pulled
back to cover the shipyards while its crew tried to make repairs to whatever systems it could.
The sudden appearance of three Alliance battleships alongside them had put all their efforts for
naught.

Three full broadsides fired as one and the Shal'kra-class Heavy Mothership simply exploded.

The battleships re-oriented themselves and their gun batteries turned to face the surface
shipyards

Heavy Ion cannon bolts pelted the surface installations. The shields protecting the shipyards
held for several minutes but the fire was as concentrated as it was intense and the shield failed
in several areas around the shipyard. Ion bolts slammed into the nearly built Motherships,
destroying months of work and killing hundreds of unfortunate engineers and workers.

"Incoming hyperspace signatures!" A lieutenant called out.

"Number and locus?" Commander Singh demanded.

The lieutenant spent several seconds refining his sensor readings. "Eight Motherships…Hat'ak's,
I think…they got caught by the seventh planet's gravity well and appear to have been brought
out prematurely. They're well into the outer system but they'll be here in less the eight
minutes."

Commander Singh turned to Admiral Kent with a grin. "I guess God does remember whose side
he's supposed to be on."

"We caught a break with that one, all right." Kent replied. 'Time to wrap this up. Recall all
fighters! Have the fleet regroup at these co-ordinates and prepare to jump to Withdrawal Point
Beta!"

"Aye, sir." Singh replied.

Still exchanging fire, Third Fleet turned away from their engagements and headed upwards,
away from the plane of ecliptic. Fighters and bombers flew back to their ships, the Death
Gliders that continued to chase them down were blotted out of the sky by data-linked point
defense from the entire battlegroup.

As the last squadrons returned to the hangers of their respective ships, the Third Fleet finally
cleared the planet's gravity well and jumped into hyperspace.

The eight Hat'ak's tracked their initial trajectory and made a calculated guess as to where they
were heading. One by one, the Motherships jumped into hyperspace in hot pursuit but
regardless of the results of their essentially futile chase, the damage had been done.

Of the three Shal'kra's and six Hat'ak's under construction, all were damaged to some extent,
some heavily, with one of the Shal'kra's and two of the Hat'ak's totally destroyed. The Jaffa in
charge of the Yard stared at the destruction despairingly.

Maybe if he could salvage the remaining ships, Bast would kill him quickly and only once.

July 10th 2010
Entrica System

Hek'at stood on the bridge of the 'Fist of the Gods' and exhaled with complete satisfaction.

"The Alliance ships are falling back." A Jaffa announced.

"To the orbital minefields?" Hek'at asked expectantly.

The same Jaffa nodded.

Smiling, Hek'at walked casually back to his command throne. The Dal'cor attack by the Alliance
had been a stroke of genius and had hurt the Union far more than he would like to admit.

Fortunately, two things had prevented it from being a disaster of monumental proportions.
Firstly, the latest and largest production run of the tash'khat missile had departed Dal'cor before
that strike, so there was now more than enough to outfit the majority of the udajeet fleet.
Secondly, none of the udajeets defending Dal'cor had been outfitted with the new missiles due
to the yards supposedly 'secure' position, deep within Union Territory.

This meant that the Alliance still didn't know about the missile and thus it could be used to
maximum effect in a place of his choosing. He had order Ok'ran to send a highly secure
message to that effect to the rest of the fleet. No one was to use the new missiles until he said
so.

"Bring the fleet to a position just outside the range of the mines." Hek'at ordered. "And prepare
for extreme range orbital bombardment."

"Jaffa, kree!"

The Shal'kra-class Mothership and its four surviving escorts glided smoothly into position just
beyond the firing range of the outermost mines, protecting the planet Entrica.

The Alliance Fleet elements protecting the planet had been taken heavy casualties and had
withdrawn to the orbital defenses in anticipation of a general assault but Hek'at had no intention
of driving into the very teeth of his enemy's defenses. Instead, his Motherships diverted as
much power to their weapons as they could spare and began to fire waves of plasma bursts
down upon the planet.

The extreme range at which the mines held them back meant two things; first, that nearly fifty
percent of the plasma intensity would have dissipated by the time they impacted with the surface
and secondly, the accuracy of these blasts would be almost non-existent.

Neither of these things mattered greatly to Hek'at at the moment because he had no intention of
taking Entrica. This raid was purely for destruction. The reduced plasma blasts rained heavily
down upon the continents and the cities of Entrica. Blast after blast slammed into the shielded
cities but many other blasts slammed into the landscape around the cities. Crops burned,
smaller towns and villages were destroyed and people died. In a stroke of luck, several plasma
blasts impacted against a fault line and caused the tectonic plates to slip, causing a massive
earthquake, which ripped through several nearby cities, leveling buildings and killing even more
people, despite their shields.

"Reading massive damage to the surface in several regions." One Jaffa reported.

Hek'at nodded in satisfaction. "And the Tau'ri ships?"

"They've regrouped and are heading to intercept us. They appear to be towing a number of
orbital weapons platforms…" Another Jaffa replied.

"Now that's a clever move." Hek'at acknowledged, his respect for his opponent raising several
notches. The heavily damaged Alliance ships could never hope to push back his forces in their
current state but those orbital weapon platforms would definitely go a long way towards evening
out those odds.

"Regardless, we've achieved what we came here to do. Set a course for Gryphon and jump to
hyperspace as soon as we clear the gravity well." Hek'at ordered.

"Jaffa, kree!"

Fires burned across Entrica, visible even from space, as the remnants of the Entrican defense
fleet tried to close with the Motherships. The massive pyramid vessels, however, ignored the
incensed Entricans and rotated smoothly as they steadily accelerated away from the planet.
Moments later, reality warped and twisted and in a blinding flash of light, the five Motherships
jumped into hyperspace.

The commander of the defense fleet gritted his teeth in frustration and turned his ships around.
Despite doing everything possible to defend the world below, the fires on the planet's surface
burned into his mind with a guilt that would haunt him forever.

July 13th 2010
Regional Supply Depot, Separatist territory of System Lord Hera

Teal'c shifted uncomfortably in the Jaffa armour he had worn for so long as First Prime to
Apophis. He was sure that the discomfort was purely mental but knowing that didn't make the
irritation go away. The smoke from the battle drifted aimlessly across the open area around the
Stargate as the rest of the rebel Jaffa, nearly five hundred in all, bega to appear from the depths
of the surrounding forest. Dead Jaffa belonging to Hera, with the copper-hued helmets of a
bull's head lay dead, strewn around the Stargate, mixed in with a handful of dead rebel Jaffa,
wearing the golden helmets of a cats head, exact duplicates of Bast's Jaffa.

Nearly a kilometer away, a medium sized supply depot of Hera's burned brightly as the surviving
Jaffa tried desperately to put out the fires before more volatile supplies could explode. Several
small explosions rippled across the compound as continued testament to that losing battle.

Teal'c frowned darkly as the Rebel dead were retrieved and taken back through the Stargate,
back to Spearhead. They needed to leave evidence for the Separatist System Lord Hera that
Bast had performed this strike but early on in the war, it had become apparent that the Goa'uld
of both factions had been reviving the dead for intelligence on SGC operations and if Hera did
revive one of the dead Rebel Jaffa, the entire operation would soon become worse than useless.
Fortunately, two things were going to make this mission a success. Firstly, enough of Hera's
surviving Jaffa had seen that it was Jaffa 'belonging' to Bast that had caused the destruction of
the depot, but the thing that would really confirm it was the two dead Jaffa that actually
belonged to Bast that had been killed three days ago in a previous skirmish. Kept on ice until
now, Teal'c oversaw the careful positioning of the bodies nearby that made it look as if they had
been overlooked in the hurried departure.

Shouts in the distance signaled the approaching forces of Hera and Teal'c snapped his fingers,
signaling the remaining Rebels to return through the 'Gate. In the distance, the whine of a
Death Glider could be heard with rising intensity. Looking over the area one last time, he
nodded to himself, acknowledging that even Master Bra'tac would be proud of the deception he
had perpetrated here today.

As he ran back to the Stargate, his last thought before throwing himself through the shimmering
pool of light was that he wished he could see Bast's face when Hera launched a strike in
retaliation for this attack.

End of Interlude

03:42 ZULU
July 15th 2010
Outskirts of the Polaris system

At this distance, the light from the sun of this Alliance system was but a dim glow, the pinprick
ball of light almost indistinguishable from the stars surrounding it.

The sensor satellite than scanned this section of the solar system was but a dark gray sphere
against the backdrop of space. Indeed, you could really only tell its location from the way it
occluded the stars as it passed. Although it had active sensors, they required a command from
the Defense Net Control Centre on Polaris to be activated. Instead, the satellite relied upon its
passive sensors to detect intruders.

Of far less range and resolution, the passive sensors had no trouble picking up the warping of
reality as localized radiation increased and space itself seemed to open up to disgorge a small
fighter.

Exhausted, dirty and cramped after spending sixteen days in the increasingly tight confines of the
Sabre's cockpit, constantly avoiding Jaffa patrols, Commander Kirsty 'Razor' Stephanovich sighed
with heartfelt relief as she engaged her engines for the last time and sent her Sabre streaking
insystem.

Her perilous journey was over.

End of Part 1