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

2. chapter 2

Spearhead: Foundations of Sand

Part 2

Chapter 3

Paradigm Shifts

12:19 ZULU

July 15th

Spearhead – Scientific Support Division Labs

Brigadier General Samantha Carter was in heaven. She had…well, there was no good way to put it…she had 'dumped' all her paperwork on her long-suffering 2IC, Colonel DeSoto and spent the past six hours down among the tech staff of the SSD labs, working out the kinks of over half a dozen projects simultaneously. Despite her promotions and increased responsibilities, her first love has always been science and her superiors, O'Neill in particular, had always recognized this and allowed her extreme latitude when it came to getting involved in the numerous and varied projects of the SSD.

Though highly intelligent, she was also possessed of a personal honesty that compelled her to admit that she wasn't the smartest person in the world. Her primacy among the scientists of the SSD in the early days of the war was mainly due to the limited number of scientists with the level of security clearance necessary to work with wormholes, anti-gravity generators and other advanced technologies. Now that the entire world, or more accurately entire worlds and their scientific establishments were being exposed to highly advanced technologies, the SGC no longer needed to rely on her genius alone.

She snorted softly at her thoughts. She was still a damned fine scientist and she could still show some of the test bench scientists a thing or two about practical quantum physics and wormholes.

"General, I still don't see how we can get the emitter output over 84%…" One of the engineers called out in frustration. They were currently working on the 'Shadow' Electronic Warfare spacecraft, something that had been in development for almost a year now, in response to the sensor/communication jamming technologies Bast had deployed so effectively around the time she had taken Gryphon. With a shape somewhere between the Sabre and the Pegasus, essentially an elongated triangle, it mounted a triangular rotating dish on a dorsal fin, similar to the Air Force AWACS aircraft. That was where the similarities ended however because the Shadow was not merely a long-range sensor platform, it was also a electronic warfare vessel, built to counter Bast jamming and emit its own but also a first strike unit, utilizing active stealth emissions to cloak the vessel from any sensor apparatus that it had the frequency for which it operated on.

Assuming they could get the damn thing to work.

Early this morning, however, she had been woken up to learn that a single scout had managed to break the blockade of Gryphon with a data package detailing everything that had happened on that world for the past year. The information had been shocking to say the least, but the details of the battles fought, both victories and defeats, had been incredible and even now, the war planners were going over everything with a fine toothcomb, analyzing strategies of a ground invasion and occupation that they hadn't really been exposed to, how the Gryphon Army had handled it, the lessons learnt, information that had been hard won and was almost as precious as the knowledge that the Gryphonese still fought on.

Damn but the Alliance was proud of those people. They had done their part and tied down the better part of Bast's military machine for over twelve months and now, it was time to finish the job.

Which brought her back to the 'Shadow', a key element in the plan to re-take Gryphon. The data from Gryphon had included gigabytes of info on Gryphonese tactical and strategic operations within a jamming environment and the tricks and techniques they had evolved to deal with the jamming. They had done wonders with what they had but they were obviously lacking the technical base to develop the technology further than the short-range countermeasures they had.

"You've been trying to raise the efficiency of each emitter but you keep hitting a brick wall due to the limitations of the materials involved." Carter explained as she continued to fiddle with emitter modules on the inert dish of the Shadow. "Maybe the Asgard have a better resonator chamber but Alliance materials science isn't quite in their league yet."

"So what are you doing then?" The engineer asked wildly.

Carter grinned. "What we humans do best, Chief, adapt. Instead of boosting the efficiency of the emitter, I'm reducing the size of each emitter node. They're oversized anyway, 'cause there's always someone, usually a man, who thinks bigger is always better…" She shook her head at the tech's mildly sheepish look. "Anyway, reducing each emitter's size doesn't affect the performance we've already achieved but it does allow us to cram more emitters into the available space. By hooking them up in parallel and re-writing a few lines of synchronization code, we should get a exponential increase in overall system efficiency."

"But that's…so…" The tech struggled to find the words.

"Inelegant?" Carter supplied. At his jerky, hesitant nod (he hadn't forgotten that she was a one-star General, despite her current activities.), she chuckled softly. "As General O'Neill told me once, 'it doesn't have to be pretty, it only has to work.'"

Nine hours later, after a lot of extra effort, it worked.

Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Sir Henry Patterson, scanned the array of Ground Force Generals before and sighed. "We only have so much troop lift capacity, gentlemen. You're going to have to cut your first wave Marine force back by at least ten 10%."

"And plan on losing anywhere from ten to twenty Orcas if we are unable to successfully suppress ground fire as they go in." Admiral Serena interjected. This was a joint meeting between the top people of both Fleet and Ground Forces, essentially a top-level review of the data that had escaped from Gryphon and its integration into the plan to retake the planet. Various mid-to-low level planners were doing a more in depth review of the data but senior staff wanted to get a feel for how their initial plans would play out, now that they had some idea of the defenses Hek'at had set up around Gryphon.

General Stuart looked at his ground commanders and frowned. "That means we might lose an entire Marine battalion to ground fire, and the ability to transport another battalion in the second wave."

"Can't we simply stand off until all ground fire has been suppressed?" Admiral Marakesh wondered out loud.

One of the other General's shook his head. "You'd never be able to target something that wasn't firing at you. Plus, fighting the Gryphonese has taught the Jaffa a lot as well, such as going for transports in particular. Hek'at's anti-air people will hold their most potent fire until they see the transports. We're going to have to do it the hard way. We blow away anything that resembles an anti-air emplacement and then we send in the transports with a heavy fighter/bomber escort. Hopefully, we'll be able to paste anything that opens up before it does too much damage."

"I think the Tollan corvettes might make a good escort. They're small and more than fast enough to cover the Orcas, they also have enough firepower to take on anything smaller than an Al'kesh with relative ease." Admiral Serena added.

Patterson nodded and made a small note of all these ideas. "Now, the big question, do we send the assault wave in before or after the 'Wraith' units go in?"

"After." Stuart replied firmly. The unanimous nods from everyone else made the big question a relatively simple one.

Before the data from Gryphon had arrived, the assault wave had been planned to go in first, Patterson wondered why and said so.

"It's the numbers of Jaffa we'll be dealing with, Admiral. Over three million Jaffa on the planet? It's unprecedented. We figured we'd be dealing with maybe five hundred thousand, maybe three quarters of a million, tops. But three? That gives Hek'at enough Jaffa to pin down everything Gryphon has and still maintain a garrison at Wakazi that will be close to fifty thousand, and that's an entire third of the first assault wave we were going to send across the entire planet. We need the 'Wraiths' to get in and secure the Stargate, both as a distraction and to clear it for us to start bringing in the rest of the liberation force."

Nearly a million troops were assembled across the Alliance, a combined force of units from each world that would help to retake Gryphon in a battle that promised to be bloody as would be protracted. Jaffa were not known for surrendering.

"Why so many Jaffa?" Patterson asked curiously.

General Stuart shrugged. "I talked it over with some of our Tok'ra liaisons. It seems Gryphon is something of an anomaly of the standard operating procedure of the System Lords whose only historical precedent is Earth. Typically, System Lords prefer small populations, easy to manage, to control. There are exceptions but even the most populous slave world has about one hundred million inhabitants and those are damned rare, mainly manufacturing centers like the Dal'cor shipyards we hit earlier in the month. We believe she has the same intentions for Gryphon, writ large."

"Gryphon has a population of over three billion…" Patterson murmured.

"Yep." Stuart confirmed. "The last System Lord to hold a world that populous was Ra."

"Earth." Serena breathed out softly.

"Yeah but Ra realized we were more trouble than we were worth and abandoned us for 10,000 years. Thanks to that oversight, O'Neill and Dr Jackson opened the door for us and now we're toppling the System Lords one by one." Stuart sighed heavily. "But to return to the issue, Bast's only real plentiful resource is her Jaffa Legions. The System Lords have millions of them. Now we've put a dent in them, for sure, and a lot are tied down going against the Separatists but make no mistake, folks, we are going up against a three million man army that will not surrender and are no doubt fortifying positions among the Sanctuary cities they have captured which means orbital bombardments are out of the question. And we can't blockade them and starve them out 'cause we'd be starving the civilians in the cities with them."

"The Jaffa lost hundreds of thousands of Jaffa talking those cities…" Marakesh whispered in rising horror.

Stuart and the other Ground Force Generals looked grim. "Yeah, we're gonna get just as bloody taking them back."

July 19th 2010

Union Mothership Fist of the Gods

Wakazi Base, Gryphon

Jaffa Second Ok'ran strolled onto the bridge of the Mothership to be greeted by Hek'at frowning darkly at the report in his hand. Ok'ran sighed quietly and continued walking to the main console. The Jaffa on duty there made to relinquish his post to the Second but Ok'ran gestured for him to remain. Ok'ran merely glanced over the displays, updating himself with all the current activities that were occurring on and around Gryphon.

After the Gryphon military had foolishly expended a significant portion of its remaining forces to get a courier out of the system, three more Sanctuary cities had fallen to the Jaffa Legions. Soon after though, they had run headfirst into the stubborn brick wall that was the remainder of the Gryphon resistance force. They had regained a tenuous stalemate once more which, truth be told, was all right with Ok'ran at least because it was hell trying to subdue these Sanctuary cities. Though barely a fraction of the natives actively resisted the occupation, the ones that did fought like animals for every street corner, every building, and every room!

Still, they were losing ground before the staggering numbers of Jaffa Bast was throwing at the problem.

He frowned. That really wasn't like her. Usually she would come up with some technological marvel to overcome a problem. Sending in over three million Jaffa to subdue a world seemed like a roundabout way to achieve one's goals but it was better than destroying.

"Ok'ran." Hek'at called out.

Breaking away from his musings, Ok'ran immediately moved before his old friend. "First Prime?"

"Read this…" Hek'at ordered, passing him a slate-like display pad. "…tell me what you think."

It was a series of reports on the last six weeks worth of Tau'ri raids. Initially things had been quiet and then suddenly activity ramped upwards sharply, right across the board. Strike was followed by counter-strike. Three weeks ago, military actions were at an all time high, only equaled by the battle above the Tau'ri homeworld itself, then, all of a sudden, activity ceased. Fleets suddenly disappeared. Scouts no longer probed for weak spots.

Uh-oh, Ok'ran thought, alarm bells going off in his head. Looking up, those same bells were apparently ringing in Hek'at's head as well.

"Why does an army suddenly go quiet for no apparent reason…especially when they have us on the defensive?" Hek'at asked conversationally. The Jaffa on the bridge seemed to shift to hear the exchange without actually moving.

Ok'ran smiled. His friend was always teaching. "The same reason a young Jaffa not five summers old suddenly goes quiet. He's up to mischief."

Hek'at nodded. "They're coming soon, old friend. I can feel it in my bones. There hasn't been a better time for them to strike."

"Two more Hat'ak's arrived last night." Ok'ran reported, mind awash with figures and calculations. "That brings us to seven Shal'kra's, eighteen Hat'ak's and nine Brel'keht's. The new missiles will effectively remove the fighters and bombers from the equation but we still don't have enough warships to stop O'Neill if he comes in force."

Looking thoughtful, Hek'at waved away his friends conclusion. "Bah, to have enough ships he would have to strip his defenses to the bone. His Alliance has too many politicians, they would never allow him to do such a thing." Hek'at, despite having lived under a religious dictatorship for his entire life, knew quite well the fundamental weaknesses of other political systems. He had used those weaknesses to his advantage when invading other worlds.

Ok'ran grimaced with distaste. "To rely on the attitudes of politicians, even backstabbing Tau'ri ones, is dangerous, Hek'at."

Despite the grimness of the situation, Hek'at had to laugh. "It's all we have, old friend."

July 30th 2010

Emergency Alliance Council Meeting, Chamber of Light, Sintesia

"Preparations are proceeding apace. In less than a week, the first Alliance battlegroups will be dispatched on a carefully crafted departure schedule that will result in a simultaneous strike on five important Union worlds. Less the six hours later, the second wave of Alliance battlegroups will hit another seven targets."

The nineteen Council members, each representing their world or worlds in the Alliance, stared dispassionately at O'Neill as he explained the overall plan to liberate Gryphon.

"With these strikes, we hope to cause Bast to assign what little reserves she has to reinforce the places we hit. The strikes have been carefully planned to hit worlds that have had ships pulled away to reinforce Gryphon. Hitting these worlds will lead Bast to conclude that we have no intention of attacking Gryphon and that we are using our current numerical superiority to destroy her weakened worlds. Each battlegroup, however, will have but a limited amount of time in which to cause whatever the damage they can and then depart for the Rally Point. Our goal is destruction, merely distraction."

As O'Neill explained the plan, his long-time aide, Colonel Katherine Krupskaya manipulated the holographic display, timing the appearance of various bits of information with his presentation. The massive hologram showed the lines of approach from each of the battlegroups to their targets and from there to the Rally Point.

The Sintesian representative, Councilor M'Thal, leaned forward intently, his voice like gravel. "The Rally Point is less than ten light years from Gryphon, General, will Hek'at not have emplaced sensors in the system to warning against the very thing you are trying to do?"

O'Neill shook his head. "The system's sun is a late-stage brown-dwarf. The gravitational eddies prevent any long-term sensor station being placed there. Hek'at has, instead, assigned a light Mothership, capable of navigating the gravitational disruptions, to act as an early warning watchdog. Our ships will, however, arrive within minutes of each other, right after we destroy the Mothership using some new stealthy assets we have developed."

Councilor M'Thal appeared satisfied and O'Neill continued with his explanation of the plan to liberate Gryphon.

"…and once we have secured as much of the planet as possible, Grand Fleet will advance on Sohag." He concluded.

Unfortunately, Councilor Doman Fadil, from Entrica, had been waiting for this moment. "You get ahead of yourself, General." Fadil spoke firmly into the silence. "The Council has approved the pans to liberate Gryphon but we still feel that a strike on Sohag is…over ambitious, to say the least."

"Speak for yourself, Fadil." Councillor Lowtru, from Polaris, called out, his powerful voice booming across the Chamber of Light, at odds with his diminutive appearance. "The Polarian Government supports O'Neill's plan to strike Sohag completely."

"But the risk…" Councillor Ansala of the Hwa'mee responded in the penetrating whisper of his species.

"Is negligible." M'Thal concluded flatly.

Doman Fadil frowned heavily. "Strong words, Councilor, from a species whose only point of contact with the System Lords, is on a distant colony world. How daring would you be if your homeworld had been bombarded from orbit? If 4 million of your people had been obliterated, your cities turned to ash!"

M'Thal growled at the Entrican councilor. "The Earthers lost 30 million at the Battle of Sol, I do not hear them whining about the risk! This is war, Councilor!"

"Gentlemen, please!" Councilor Illiana Kutsov pleaded. "Let us not fight amongst each other! The enemy is out there and it is to the enemy to which we must take this fight!"

"We agreee." A sibilant hiss interjected.

All eyes in the Chamber of Light turned to the Susparti representative, Zuuth Maal.

"We have heard your words, and we find ourselves in agreement." The reptilian Ambassador announced.

Doman Fadil smiled broadly. "I'm glad to see the wisdom of the Susparti race…"

"Not you…" Zuuth Maal interrupted calmly before pointing to O'Neill. "Him."

O'Neill felt his eyebrows shooting upwards of their own accord. "Ambassador…?"

Zuuth Maal let his jaw drop low, a sign of sheer amusement among his kind. "We have heard your words, O'Neill. They are of a kind of wisdom which is needed if you are to win this war."

"But…" Fadil began hesitantly.

"No." The Susparti overrode him. "A soldier's choice is not always the best option, especially in times of peace, but listening to our soldiers has kept the Susparti alive and untouched for three hundred of your years. The Susparti Empire has made its decision. Launch you attack upon Sohag, end the reign of Bast, and the Empire will join your Alliance in this and all future endeavours."

With great effort, O'Neill kept his face impassive, but inside, he was screaming wildly with joy.

Hiding a grin, Kutsov surveyed the assembled councilors. "This is a serious issue. The participation of the Susparti Empire in our Alliance would be beneficial to all but all voices in the Alliance are heard. Does anyone want to oppose this motion?"

Predictably, Doman Fadil stood up with an overstated imperiousness about him. "The Entrican people protest the blatant blackmail inherent in the Susparti offer." He stated flatly. "If the Empire will withhold its support on the rejection of its conditions then I say they are not worth having as allies."

The Susparti hissed dangerously. "Your words hold a certain 'warm-blooded' logic to them, Councilor, which is the only reason I do not offer 'challenge' right now. The Empire wishes to see Bast dead and if the Alliance cannot see the need for her removal, especially when a golden opportunity for that removal stares them in the face, I say that you are not worth having as allies."

"That certainly gave us our due." M'Thal rumbled quietly. A small titter of laughter rose from the Councilors nearest to him.

"We'll put it to a vote, then." Kutsov concluded. "Those in favour of the Sohag strike, please signal your support…"

Lights appeared in front of each Councilor and it was immediately apparent the majority was in support of the motion.

"Those against…" Kutsov continued, purely as a formality, as only four lights appear. "The resolution passes." She announced with a grin.

O'Neill casually put his hands in his pockets and turned to the Susparti Ambassador. "Welcome to the Alliance, Councilor."

The meeting had dissolved fairly quickly after the vote. Doman Fadil had stormed out in anger, two of the Councilors that had voted with him, followed in his wake.

The rest of the Council had risen and formally welcomed Zuuth Maal into the Alliance. Now they were all drinking and talking casually, in small groups, about the integration of the Empire and the rest of the Alliance, the possible cultural problems and the inevitable benefits that would result in that integration.

Councilor Kutsov sidled up to O'Neill, a drink in her hand and a wide grin on her face. "You never cease to amaze me, O'Neill."

"How so, Councilor?" O'Neill asked wryly.

"Well, you did just pull the political coup of the century." Kutsov replied. "You managed to overcome your Council opposition to the Sohag strike and you brought the Susparti Empire into the Alliance…and all in the space of a minute. I sincerely hope we never find ourselves on opposite sides of an argument, General."

"It was hardly intentional." He commented with some amusement. "And I was barely responsible for any of it."

"Hah!" Kutsov responded with lordly, and loud, disdain. "You American's are too self-effacing. You should be more acknowledging of your strength and your victories. You should let your enemies know that you are a force to be reckoned with. We Russians know this, all too well."

"Maybe so, Councilor, but I still had no idea that Zuuth Maal was going to make the offer he did."

Kutsov shook her head pityingly. "Fine, continue to preach your innocence. You and I know better and I will make sure your enemies know better as well, since you are too 'humble' to do so yourself."

She took a sip of her wine and looked at O'Neill in contemplation. "What are your plans, now that you have approval for Sohag?"

O'Neill sighed heavily. "A quick tour of the shipyards and then I'll join Patterson on the new flagship of the Second Fleet."

Kutsov eyed him closely. "You intend to go into battle with the Fleet? You are a ground combat specialist, are you not?"

"I'm a little of everything these days, Councilor, being SAC-SGC, but I would go regardless. I'm their superior officer and rank doesn't confer immunity from risk."

"A noble, if idiotic sentiment." Kutsov replied, only to be rewarded with a raised eyebrow from O'Neill. She smiled. "Out of the entire Alliance, you have the most experience at fighting the Goa'uld. You have personally killed numerous System Lords, blazes, you killed Ra himself. Your leadership, knowledge and abilities are unmatched and you would risk all of that to be a mere bystander in a battle that you could make no substantive contribution?"

"Yes." O'Neill replied simply.

"Well said." A cultured British accent called out from behind the pair. O'Neill and Kutsov turned to be met by the sight of Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Sir Henry Patterson approaching.

"Admiral!" The Russian Councilor greeted him heartily. "I was just explaining O'Neill's foolishness to him, I would appreciate your support in turning him from this reckless endevour."

"No doubt you would, Councilor, but you will not have it." Patterson replied calmly. "I would welcome O'Neill on the bridge of my vessel."

Kutsov glared at the Admiral and then at O'Neill. "What foolishness infects the minds of you both?"

O'Neill shared a knowing look with Patterson and then tried to explain his reasoning to the Councilor, who was a good woman and a good leader, but who lived in a different world to that of O'Neill. "Councilor, and this is no reflection upon you or the Council for things work differently in your world, but in our world, a bad leader will tell his troops, 'Go, there!'. A good leader will say, 'Follow me!'"

Kutsov looked thoughtful for many seconds. "I believe I…understand." She exhaled heavily. "Go with God, General."

She walked away and left the two men alone.

"Are you ready, Jack?" Patterson asked quietly.

"Follow me." O'Neill ordered firmly and started to walk towards the exit.

Patterson smiled, his eyes glittering in anticipation. "Right behind you, sir."

Throne Room, Fortress Palace, Sohag

"And her forces overran two of our patrols this morning in that sector, another patrol is late reporting in. I don't anticipate it's doing so, either." Bast concluded darkly. "She has accused me of destroying her supply depot in the Lantaro Sector. No doubt the work of O'Neill and his pet Jaffa. It's the situation with Lord Yu all over again. These Separatist refuse to see the threat the Tau'ri have become and so blame me for every defeat the Tau'ri inflict upon them."

A large hologram of Hek'at floated before her throne, for he was still at Gryphon, overseeing the defenses for the inevitable liberation attempt by the Alliance.

"What do you intend to do?" Hek'at probed cautiously. Their relationship was still considerably frosty and he couldn't quite bring himself to be as casual with her as he would have liked.

Bast sighed. "I will do what I must. I ordered local counterattacks along that entire front. Hopefully, Hera will see reason and cease her harassment of my ships."

Hek'at felt is his heart twist for not so long ago, she would have said 'our ships'. "Can I still have the ships from Lady Asphe'khat?"

Bast nodded. "I will issue the orders after we finish but this will leave our reserves dangerously depleted. Hek'at, you are to preserve your Mothership force as much as it is possible to do so. If the Tau'ri come in force, retreat. Surrender Gryphon space to them. Right now, your ships are more important than a planet full of barely suppressed slaves. Leave your Jaffa to fight on in the cities. Gryphon will run with blood and maybe, just maybe, the Alliance will choke to death on it."

Hek'at frowned but nodded in assent. "And if Hera doesn't cease her raids?"

"Then I will crush her." Bast growled.

Chapter 4

Cannon to the left of them, cannon to the right of them,

Cannon in front of them, volleyed and thundered…

T- 59h:01m:55s

August 8th 2010

Alliance Carrier ENS Daniel Jackson

Grand Fleet Staging Area, Polaris System

O'Neill stood next to Carter and Captain Franklin DuPont, CO of the Second Fleet flag carrier, at the front of the bridge, gazing out of the huge glasteel viewport. Serried ranks of destroyers, cruisers and battleships glittered in vastness of space. Before them lay the Alliance Grand Fleet, the entire First, Second and Third Fleets, combined with every Home Defense Force vessel that could be safely spared.

Though many of these ships were Alliance standard designs such as the Prometheus class destroyers, even more of the ships came in a myriad of forms unique to each race that designed it.

Bulbous, flattened silver spheres of the Tollan mixed with blocky, functional-looking vessels of the Polaris Navy. Spiky, charcoal gray, tree-like vessels of the Adenan mixed with narrow, copper-hued, blade-shaped Susparti cruisers and dreadnoughts.

Waves of fighters and bombers from all races streaked through the ranks of ships, adding a scale to the panorama that defied description.

Every vessel that was spaceworthy had been pressed into service and it was an impressive sigh to behold.

"Flag to General O'Neill." A voice rang out over the bridge speakers.

O'Neill glanced at DuPont and looked up at the ceiling as he responded. "O'Neill here."

"Sir, the final fleet elements are acknowledging ready. Admiral Patterson reports Grand Fleet operational status green and requests permission to begin Operation Yellowbrick."

Taking a deep breath, he passed his gaze over the vast fleet before him. Thousands of men and women ready to fight and die on his word. The events of the next week would hopefully shorten the course of the war. He hoped the weight of sending so many young people to their deaths would become easier to bear while simultaneously pray that it wouldn't.

He let out a long, slow breath. "Proceed."

T- 55h:42m:13s

Union Mothership Fist of the Gods

Hek'at rolled out of bed in annoyance. His head had finally hit the pillow after a long day of fighting around Gryphon and he had been sleeping soundly until about four hours ago when he had woken up suddenly, heart racing and mind awash with a 'feeling' of a fathomless tide approaching.

He had tried kel'no'reem for almost two hours but found he could not calm his thoughts to get past the first shel'nok, the first level of attainment, let alone reach a state of meditative bliss. He had tried to sleep once more but found he could not do that either.

Giving up on his rest and ignoring his feelings, he started to put his armour back on. Maybe he and Ok'ran could go and join the front for a while. Combat always did settle his nerves.

T- 48h:08m:26s

Alliance Carrier ENS Daniel Jackson

Admiral Patterson stood on the Flag bridge of the ENS Daniel Jackson and watched the strategic repeater display intently. Commander Crayven, the Tactical Action Officer, stood beside him with an oversized datapad.

"TF 2.1 reports ready in all aspects. They're scheduled to jump in five minutes." Crayven reported, glancing at the timeline display.

Patterson nodded absently as he watched the blips that represented Task Forces 1.1, 1.2 and 1.3 as they headed out in three different directions towards their targets across six thousand light years. For the past day, ever since O'Neill had given the order to proceed, a battlegroup had jumped into hyperspace on a precise schedule. The entire first stage of Operation Yellowbrick was what was called a 'time on target' attack. Each of the seven battlegroups would drop out of hyperspace at their target at the same moment, with a margin of five minutes either side of the planned moment.

The targets were fairly well defended but each battlegroup had been tailored to have just enough force to be confident of seriously damaging the Union defenses and withdrawing with minimal trouble. Some of the targets were particularly well defended and the four battlegroups had been paired up for the initial strike. From there, they would jump onto a second set of targets, of slightly lesser importance, and hit those defences too. By this point it would be hoped that twelve key Union worlds would be screaming for reinforcements and everything Bast had would go to those worlds, leaving their true target vulnerable.

In less than two days, they would emerge from hyperspace simultaneously and the fighting would begin.

T- 04h:47m:16s

Chamber of Light, Sintesia

The Chamber of Light was relatively empty at the moment. Only a few aides flitted around, here and their, watching the small group of people sat near the center of the chamber, waiting to fulfill any request they may have. The massive hologram was operation, showing a large-scale star map, with icons representing the Alliance battlegroups as they sped through hyperspace, on their way to make the initial strikes in this fight that would lead them to Sohag.

Councilors Iliana Kutsov of Earth, Doman Fadil of Entrica, M'Thul of Sintesia, Althin of Tollana and Zuuth Maal of Susparti were sat casually at a table, near to the center of the Chamber of Light, at a place usually occupied by minor Chamber officials such as the archivists, researchers, etc.

They had been there for several hours, keeping an eye on the dispersion of the fleet as they talked about numerous things, in a less formal setting, where appearances sometimes held sway more than reality. They had talked about the Susparti Empire, the problems the Alliance has had integrating other, less 'human' cultures and about the Alliance in general, it's aims and it's obligations.

"I have to say, I was quite surprised to learn that the Asgard were only protecting around four hundred worlds across the entire Galaxy, I would have assumed there were thousands of cultures out there…" Fadil remarked as he took a sip of a hot Earth drink, coffee, that was becoming a major export item across the Alliance.

Councilor Althin smiled slightly. "A side effect of having faster-than-light drives capable of crossing the Galaxy in a little more than three of your days…You tend to miss the worlds that don't broadcast their presence to the Galaxy at large. Being able to get anywhere relatively quickly doesn't engender careful exploration of space. Even the Tollan are not immune to this…quirk. Barely fifty years ago, we came across a world with a steam-age civilization, in a system less than two hundred light years from Tollana. In over a millennia of space travel, we still had civilizations and entire star systems, effectively on our doorstep, that we hadn't bothered to explore."

"The Galaxy is big place. Too big for minds as small as ours to comprehend." M'Thul commented quietly.

The Tollan Councilor nodded sagely. "Assuming a five hundred light year buffer around the Alliance member worlds, we have effectively claimed nearly 7% of the Galaxy. The Goa'uld Union can claim close to 28% while the System Lord Separatists control nearly 35%. That's 70% of the Galaxy claimed and yet, combined, we all probably have an actual presence in less than 20% of the star systems. Only the Universe knows what goes on in the Galaxy we have overlooked, ignores or not yet reached. All of which pales compared to Stargate Command's new operations in the Pegasus Galaxy. While after two months we've barely even scratched the surface of that new location, the Atlantis unit is already reporting both fascinating and disturbing events in equal measure."

Iliana Kutsov, recognizing herself as the only Russian present, felt it her duty to bring the conversation to more practical matters. "We have enough trouble with the parasitic aliens in our own Galaxy already, let us not go searching for new troubles until we have our current ones in hand."

Althin inclined his head in acknowledgement and gazed up at the holographic display. "Do you think they will successful?"

Zuuth Maal hissed in amusement. "You wish to pierce the veils of time and find out before the battle is joined?"

The Tollan Councilor was taken aback. "I merely wish someone to echo my hopes that we will be successful."

The reptilian being shook her head. "You cannot know the future. I know the relative strength of our force. We have made assumptions about the enemies. We cannot know how the battle will go until it is joined. To wish otherwise would be to invite doubt and despair."

The hulking bear-like form of M'Thul studied the Susparti carefully. "So you are confident of success?"

Zuuth Maal gave her species version of a frown. "I know that in war, there are the victors and the defeated. It is possible that we may be defeated. Defeats happen to the fastest, the strongest. I place my confidence not in battles of ships and swords, I am confident in the self-destructive nature of the Goa'uld. The nature that will be their ultimate undoing."

"If we lose today, so be it. Sitting here, I cannot affect that outcome. But I know that tomorrow, in the end, we will ultimately win."

T 00h:03m:12s

August 11th 2010

Command Central, Fortress Palace, Sohag

"Second?" The Jaffa manning the communications console called out.

The Jaffa Second currently in charge of Command Central, here at the centre of the union, sighed heavily. It had been a peaceful night up until this point. Was Hera causing his God trouble again? "Yes?"

The Jaffa at the console looked troubled. "We just received a garbled transmission from our outpost on Fen'dhak. It was hard to tell but it sounded like they were under attack."

"Raise them!" The Second ordered.

The Jaffa frowned. "I already tried once I had lost the signal…I can't get through." His console beeped urgently once more. "Second…we are now receiving a distress call from Ragesh 3, the depot there is under attack. It's the Tau'ri."

Two Union worlds thousands of light years apart, attacked, at the same time? This did not sound good. "Sound the alert. Send a signal to Hek'at informing him of the situation, I'm going to notify the Lady Bast. We need her wisdom."

Lord Kiptakanae carefully studied the way Bast entered Command Central, her Jaffa Praetorian Guard fluidly moving alongside her, protecting her with great diligence, even her, in the heart of Union territory. Why, one would think she didn't trust her allies…

The irony was not lost on him. He and the other senior Union System Lords stood around the large chamber, aloof and unconcerned but in reality, very, very concerned.

"Once again, we dance to the tune that O'Neill plays. Tell me, Bast, do you ever get tired of being led by the nose?" He asked her sneeringly. Casually, he left his position against a wall and moved slowly in Bast's direction. The guards followed his path with their eyes but made no other discernible movement.

"Why Lord Kiptakanae, how wonderful to see you again. I do enjoy the morale-lifting remarks with which you seek share with our Union. You realize that membership is quite voluntarily? There is no threat of force holding you here if you wish to leave." Bast replied caustically. The little tyrant had been becoming more and more spiteful over the past year and she was becoming incredibly weary of it.

Kiptakanae smiled and placed his hands behind his back. "I believe in this Union, Lady Bast, I have faith in this Union. I simply lack faith in you."

Bast glared at him and was going to respond when another Union world signaled its distress, it's icon on the large holographic display blinking crimson death. "We have not the time to bandy words, Kiptakanae, and a Union to fight for." And with that, she turned her back and moved up next to the main console.

Insult aside, Kiptakanae was satisfied, his test had been successful. Had anyone noticed, the ring placed upon his little finger, glowed with an internal yellow light. What would be mistaken for pure ornamentation was in fact a highly miniaturized sensor, capable of detecting certain emissions used when scanning for weapons. While Bast's Praetorian Guard were very diligent, they apparently trusted the corridor scanners to detect unauthorized weaponry.

The scanners ignored the ribbon devices worn by each of the System Lords as a matter of course. Even now, with her back turned to him, he could simply lift his hand and sending a powerful wave of energy at her. Unfortunately, that's all it could project; a blunt, unfocussed wall of energy that would be effectively disappated by the personal shields the System Lords wore as a matter of course. No what was needed was an ak'rit'ar, a device similar in appearance to a ribbon device but much more powerful, incredible focused and more than capable of piercing a personal shield in one shot. Unfortunately, it was incredibly easy to detect by weapon scanners and no System Lord would contemplate wearing one around another System Lord for they really had only one function which was to kill other System Lords.

Lord Yu had provided him with an ak'rit'ar and he had found a way to get the disassembled device into Command Central. Each of the components were hidden around the room right now, everything but the glove. Now that he knew he could assemble the weapon without being detected the instant the last piece clicked into place and it powered up, he would wear the glove, disguised as his ribbon device.

As Bast began to spit out orders, Kiptakanae kept his face carefully expressionless but inside, his smile was ghoulish. Next time, Lady Bast, I will take your life and, despite Yu's fond wishes, the union shall be mine...

Union Mothership Fist of the Gods

Twenty minutes after the first strikes began, Bast finally made a direct communication with her First Prime. He had intercepted messages of course, picked up whispers of Alliance vessels erupting from hyperspace to blow away a Mothership and the disappearing just as quickly but since he was in Gryphon, he was effectively out of the loop. Everything was being governed from Central Command on Sohag and he had no choice but to wait until official word from there."

'Incoming signal from Sohag." Ok'ran announced. Bast's face flickered onto the main screen.

"I'm sorry Hek'at, but I have to divert the warships you were promised. Contrary to what we thought, O'Neill is ignoring Gryphon and going after other worlds in the Alliance that we have stripped of defenses in order to boost yours."

Hek'at nodded in reluctant agreement.

"We need to even out the deployments otherwise O'Neill is simply going to bounce from each lightly defended in the Union to the other." He suggested. "Do you want me to dispatch any ships fro Gryphon?"

Bast took a moment to consider the offer. "No. Hold on to what you have. I'll use the last of the reserves to beef up the defenses around the Union and bring back the Motherships that are attacking Hera. We've taken two of her frontier worlds, that should be enough punishment for now so we'll simply hold what we've got."

Again, Hek'at could do nothing but nod in agreement. He had been so sure that O'Neill would attack Gryphon that these other strikes had left him completely off-balance. Which is no doubt why he had done it.

A day later…

Alliance Carrier ENS Daniel Jackson

"All right, Carriers, pull back to Point Tango. Destroyer Group 4, move to cover the Susparti Dreadnought. Cruiser Wings 2 and 3, fall back to Mobile Position 1."

O'Neill watched as Admiral of the Fleet Patterson moved his ships with the skill of a samurai master. Like a blade, he used his ships to slash through the enemy formation, cutting a squadron away and battering it into uselessness before doing it again to another part of the enemy.

This was the last strike before the Jackson Battlegroup made for the Rally Point. While Patterson had been busy managing the fight, O'Neill had kept tabs and the rest of the Fleet, which was engaged in six other strikes in systems spread out across six thousand light years. Though each battlegroup had taken losses, they had inflicted more on an unprepared and tactically outnumbered foe. Tok'ra Intelligence had just sent a couple of messages that indicated large-scale ship movements with the Union but they appeared to be re-assignment of ships. Bast appeared to have swallowed the bait and was reassigning every spare ship she had to worlds they had hit and worlds they had no intention of hitting.

He would have to call the first stage of this operation a success.

O'Neill returned his attention to the battle which was beginning to wind down as Patterson tried to disengage from the Motherships defending the repair and resupply world they had chosen to attack.

"The lead Motherships are slowing, Admiral. The appear to be breaking off pursuit." A sensor officer called out.

Patterson nodded. "They're there to defend, not chase." He was satisfied though. A cruiser and three destroyers for two Hat'ak's and six Brel'keht's was a good enough exchange rate for him, especially since the defending force had been larger than they had expected.

"As soon as the Battlegroup clears the gravity well, assume jump formation and head for the Rally Point. Our work here is done."

Interlude

There are moments in battles when you can feel the initiative slipping away, the feeling the enemy is outpacing the ability of you to keep up with. Of course, there are times when you can feel that the armies under your command are slipping their leash, that they have gained too much momentum and you are no longer in control of events. The tide of war is a capricious beast. It can swing either way with no regard for good, for evil, for time or fate. We are at its mercy and we can calculate odds, prepare redundancies but in the end, we are subject to its whims.

Tplus 37h:14m:19s

Kurasaki, Sanctury City #12, Gryphon

Colonel Kerr Avon, CO of SG-Omega, leaned tiredly against the shattered Katana tank. Gunfire sounded in the near distance, echoing of the shattered city blocks, but he ignored it. It wasn't headed in his direction. His combat armor was scratched, dented and worn. The active matrix skin hadn't worked for months and the armor had a glassy appearance on the chest, his right shoulder and his left thigh, each area testament to the heavy plasma blast his armor had absorbed.

"Beta Platoon is engaged in quadrant 5, Kerr." A familiar voice reported wearily.

Colonel Avon looked up at the armored figure beside him and sighed. "Any regulars nearby, Jonas?"

Jonas Quinn shook his head. "They went in to dig out the 316th but were unable to get past the Jaffa skirmish line. There was four Scorpions in support of the attack and the 316th was effectively wiped out."

"Damn." Avon cursed, bouncing a fist off the wrecked tank. That had been the last company-sized formation in the quadrant. "Notify Command, tell them…tell them, 'Jaffa have taken Quadrant 5. We are falling back to Quadrant 4.' "

"And Beta Platoon?" Quinn asked heavily. Ever since Major Capini had been killed four months ago, Captain Jonas Quinn had become SG-Omega's 2IC. When they had first arrived, the thought of Jonas, the Chief Technical Officer, as 2IC would have made everyone, including Jonas, laugh. Now, after a year fighting for every inch of dirt that was Gryphon, Jonas Quinn was as much a combat veteran as any of SG-Omega.

Colonel Kerr Avon thanked the Gods that Quinn had survived and risen to the challenge of combat and leadership. "Tell Beta to disengage and expedite. Quadrant 5 is gonna be swarming with Jaffa soon and we need to figure out how the hell we're gonna stop 'em in Quadrant 4."

As Jonas moved off, issuing orders and passing on reports, Avon looked up at the darkening sky. "Come on, O'Neill, save our butts…"

End of Interlude

August 13th 2010

Outskirts of the Gryphon System

Just outside the Oort cloud, a spherical region of ice asteroids that delineated the boundary of a Solar System, space warped and twisted and with a flash of light, a small black shape dropped out of hyperspace.

Triangular, matt-black and with a rotating dish mounted on a dorsal fin, the Shadow class electronic warfare fighter/bomber immediately cut its engines to minimal operating levels and drifted silently into the cloud of ice and rock.

The same event happened all around the Gryphon system as thirteen other Shadow craft emerged from hyperspace like the proverbial thieves in the night. Silently and very, very stealthily, they drifted in-system, each heading towards a specific area in the outer system.

Major Thomas 'Cypher' Westfield scanned his readouts intently, yet with faint glee, as he maneuvered his Shadow around the massive asteroids. His mission was to remove all Jaffa system-range sensor and jamming capabilities. Grand Fleet would be arriving soon and they would need to be able to co-ordinate with each other if they were to win this battle.

As a Captain, he had flown electronic warfare EA-6 'Intruders' off the deck of the USS Enterprise for eight years before she was decommissioned and he transferred to the new Alliance Fighter Corp, four years earlier. His old bird didn't have a fifth of the capabilities of his new ride, though, and he expertly began to analyse the very weak but increasing emanations from the Jaffa sensor/jamming stations. In less than a minute, he had a good read on them and began to program his own emitters with a counter signal that would effectively cloak his Shadow fighter/bomber from their sensors.

Unseen and unheard, the Shadow craft slipped closer to Gryphon, intent on mayhem.

Union Mothership Fist of the Gods

The Jaffa at the command console frowned deeply as it beeped softly but insistently.

"A problem, Dro'ac?" Hek'at asked quietly.

Second Dro'ac grunted in annoyance. "Sensor station 7 just went offline."

The fourteen platforms of the early warning sensor/jamming network were relatively new technology and despite having been used successfully by the Jaffa Legions for the past year, they were still prone to occasional mechanical failure. In the event one station failed, the other two stations nearest the failure would increase power to cover the gap. An effective system-wide jamming blanket could be maintained with as little as nine platforms, as long as they were spread out in optimum positions.

The sudden loss of one station was of usually of little immediate concern, however, the widespread attacks the Tau'ri had inflicted over the past couple of days had left everyone tense and on edge. They were beginning to jump at shadows…

"Dispatch a tel'tac with a repair crew to station 7." Hek'at ordered tightly.

Dro'ac moved to comply with his orders when the console beeped even more urgently. The Jaffa looked up at Hek'at in alarm. "First Prime, we just lost contact with platforms 8 and 10"

Heads across the bridge turned at that. Hek'at lifted himself out of the command throne and moved next to Dro'ac. The platforms should have detected an approaching Tau'ri vessel. "Mechanical failure?"

"Unknown." Dro'ac replied disgustedly. "The data-feed was fine right up until the fek'shoa-damned machine went offline."

Hek'at senior Second and old friend, Ok'ran cursed all technology, moved over to a secondary control station and began furiously manipulating the console. "Three widely spaced stations don't go offline all at the same time for no reason!"

"Programming error?" Dro'ac wondered.

Hek'at shook his head and glanced at his friend, Ok'ran, across the bridge of the 'Fist of the God's, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding. "All the platforms have the same programming. Why would a software error affect just those three?" The First Prime's mind whirled with possibilities and could only come to a single conclusion, no matter how grim that conclusion was. O'Neill was making his move. As if to confirm that supposition, an alarm began to sound.

"Five more sensor stations just went down!" Dro'ac called out tensely. "Jamming intensity now down by 42%!" A second alarm went off, intensifying the first and then both suddenly shut off, the sudden silence almost strange after the sudden alert. "The last six stations just went dead. Station 12 sensors picked up an extremely faint return just before it went quiet. Too weak to get a positive ID, there was a strange variance to the emission signature but there's a high probability it was Tau'ri."

"Of course it was. Order all ships to full readiness!" Hek'at commanded. "Prepare all surface Legions for local counter-attack. Once the Gryphon military realise the Tau'ri have returned to liberate them, they'll be coming out of the woodwork like Tarkalian worms."

Ok'ran walked slowly over to Hek'at in the ensuing activity of the bridge as they prepared for battle.

"What do you intend to do, old friend?" He asked quietly. "The jamming field is down, and odds are they'll be able to overcome any local jamming we put out…"

Hek'at shrugged slightly. "There's not much room for complex strategies and tactical feints here at Gryphon, anyway." He replied. "O'Neill covets what we have, the planet, which means they have to come to us to get it. They can hardly make us walk into a minefield, now, can they?"

Ok'ran grinned faintly in mild satisfaction. "A straight up fight then."

Hek'at shrugged as a new alarm sounded and Tau'ri vessels began to blink into existence. "Possibly. Remember, Ok'ran, we can't afford to lose too many ships…"

The other Jaffa grimaced. "Hek'at, what's the point of having a Fleet if we're afraid to get it damaged? We may as well engrave invitations for the Tau'ri to come and take our worlds at will…"

The First Prime raised his hand to stop his friend's tirade. His frustration was obvious and understandable. "I never meant we wouldn't fight, Ok'ran, only that we have to choose the time and place to make our stand. If O'Neill's coming to us, it means he's brought enough ships to make him confident of winning. It that's the case, why give him his victory? Instead, let us withdraw, bleeding him in the process with the new weapons and live to fight again at a time and place of our choosing. Never fight on your opponents chosen battlefield, old friend, it generally means he has tricks and resources you can't see…and that will catch you when you're not looking."

Nodding at the wisdom of the statement, Ok'ran turned to watch the display, as the wave of Alliance ships swept towards them.

Alliance Carrier ENS Ark Royal, Third Fleet

As First and Third Fleet shook down into their assault formations, Admiral Kent grimaced slightly as the blips on the tactical hologram that denoted the Motherships, moved closer together, into a familiar, mutually supportive formation. He glanced at his Tactical Action Officer, Commander Singh, who shrugged in silent reply. Neither of them expected to catch them flatfooted.

"First Fleet is launching fighters." The Ark Royal's Flight Ops officer, Captain Matthews, announced tightly.

"Admiral, I've raised the planet, sir! General Roberts would like to speak with you!" The Communications officer called excitedly.

"Onscreen." Kent replied.

For the first time in over a year, a strong, clear transmission was made between the planet of Gryphon and an orbiting Alliance vessel. General Robert's stern visage appeared on the main viewscreen but softened noticeably as he saw the Admiral. Nobody on the planet had forgotten how Kent had almost died trying to defend their world.

"It's good to see you, Admiral." Roberts greeted him.

"Likewise, General." Kent replied simply.

"I have eighteen squadrons of fighters and six of bombers I can have airborne in less than five minutes…" The General announced.

Admiral Kent smiled widely and tried to ignore the sudden unwholesome glee that had appeared in the eyes of his Flight Ops officer. The mission planners for this fight had been unable to anticipate what, if any, resources the Gryphonese might have left and so they had been told to not even try. They had developed a plan that relied only on what they could bring with them.

To make matters worse, Admiral Patterson had decreed that they were to try and retake Gryphon without using Second Fleet, their reserve force. He wanted to keep it untouched and intact for when they went up against Sohag.

The planners had merely shook their heads and tried to accommodate the Admiral's demands as best they could but none of them expected the Fleet to be able to pull it off. To learn now, however, that they had an additional four Wings of fighters and bombers!

Things were looking up.

"Co-ordinate with Captain Matthews, General, but don't get too eager! Hold your line for now, you can be the anvil while the Fleet becomes the hammer." Kent explained.

Roberts simply smiled. 'Acknowledged, Admiral. We've held the line for over a year, I think we can hold it a few more hours. Roberts out." And the General disappeared from the viewscreen and a tactical display replaced his transmission.

"Incoming orders from Fleet Prime, sir!" The Communications officer reported. "Fleet Admiral Patterson has released us to advance on the planet."

"Excellent." Kent replied with a feral smile. "Helm, take us in."

The Nimitz, under Rear Admiral Han and the Ark Royal, the great carriers of the First and Third Fleets, advanced slowly, a battleship and a handful of destroyer escorts providing cover as the rest of the fleet advanced, separating into five smaller battlegroups, each centered around an Ares-class battleship or Susparti Dreadnought.

Squadron after squadron of fighters and bombers launched from the carriers, the battleships and the cruisers. Even the destroyers could carry a half squadron of fighters, which they launched now.

The first wave of bombers, eight full squadrons, formed up, escorted by twelve squadrons of fighters. All in all, nearly two hundred and forty fighters and bombers, mainly of Alliance ship-types but interspersed with native squadrons from Sintesia, Adena and Suspartii, charged forward towards the Motherships, along with a wing of Tollan corvettes, vessels smaller than destroyers but larger than fighters, which provided a little extra hitting power. Before the Fleet engaged those massive pyramids, Admiral Kent wanted them shaken up a little first.

Sensors beeped for attention as a veritable swarm of udajeets launched from the Motherships, screaming forward to engage the assault wave before they could attack.

Wing Commander Karl Bekker, formerly of the South African Air Force, raised his eyebrows in surprise. The Death Gliders were coming straight in with minimal evasive maneuvers.

"Coming in dumb, boss." His wingman called out over the radio.

"Yeah…" Bekker replied cautiously. "Maybe they're green." Similar reactions were being repeated among the rest of the pilots in the fleet for if the Jaffa entered firing range in the same manner, the Anti-Fighter Missiles would rip them to pieces.

Seconds passed and the range closed rapidly. The tone of good targeting locks rang in every pilot's helmets and they readied themselves for combat. Bekker was becoming increasingly apprehensive at the Jaffa's bold and seemingly suicidal approach and as the Death Gliders finally entered extreme firing range, he came to a decision.

"All fighters, fire at will!" He ordered, far earlier than was expected.

Almost as one, a hundred and forty odd fighters fired first one and then another AFM. At such extreme range, flight time was almost ten seconds but before the missiles were barely halfway there, something strange happened.

The Sabre's sensitive Asgard-derived sensors detected numerous small, spherical objects detaching from the Death Gliders and accelerating towards the assault wave of fighters and bombers rapidly.

Bekker looked at his displays, which registered no target locks coming from the Death Gliders.

"Are they missiles?" His wingman barely had time to call out before the Alliance AFM's exploded amongst the Death Gliders, cutting huge swaths amongst their number.

Whatever they were, Bekker thought, they're on independent guidance. Alliance AFM's required pilots to keep their Sabre's oriented on their targets to ensure a constant lock. The loss of almost half the Death Gliders hadn't seemed to affect the strange objects whatsoever.

"Go evasive!" Bekker ordered.

Seconds later, the swarm of spherical missiles entered the Alliance formation. Several spheres flashed by his fighter, none seeming to alter course in any way to track the maneuvering fighters and bombers. Perhaps they had been affected by the Death Glider's destruction after all, he thought, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face, when suddenly everything turned into chaos.

"We're being locked up!" His wingman called out as seemingly every alarm in Bekker's cockpit went off.

"No shit!" Bekker growled and tried to get his Sabre to turn even tighter in his evasive maneuver.

Before the Alliance fighters and bombers had a chance to get clear, every sphere the Death Gliders had fired suddenly exploded as one. Numerous, small sub-munitions flew out from the explosions in all directions. Each submunition seemed to aim itself at an Alliance fighter before exploding and spraying them with shield penetrating flechettes.

Alliance Sabre fighters and Pegasus bombers simply exploded. So did the Adenan Hornet strikefighters and the single squadron of Sintesian interceptors. Susparti Stingers and the Tollan corvettes fared slightly better but only for a minute or two until their onboard reactors finally overloaded from the damage and catastrophically failed. Five planes, ten, entire squadrons disappeared in balls of flame. None escaped the carnage, and few survived the attack.

Out of the two hundred and forty fighters and bombers leading the attack, less than sixty cleared the devastation, along with barely half the corvettes, each unit trailing flame or wreckage as their pilots tried to nurse their craft back towards the carriers.

Panicked calls filled the communication channels as the rest of the Fleet tried to figure out what the hell had happened.

On the bridge of his Shal'kra-class Mothership, Hek'at watched the devastation of the Tau'ri fighter forces with utter satisfaction. "Surprise..."

Alliance Carrier ENS Daniel Jackson, Second Fleet

Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Sir Henry Patterson felt the blood drain from his face as several others on in the Flag CIC cried out in shock. O'Neill leaned heavily against the hand-rail, knuckles white under the tight grip.

"What in the hell just happened?!" Carter demanded, as angry as O'Neill had ever seen her. Not waiting for an answer, she strode over to a console and began to review the sensor logs.

The Lieutenant in charge of the sensor section shook his head and brought his attention back to his work. Clearing his throat, he spoke softly in the quiet of the CIC. "Two seconds before the spheres entered the assault wave formation, sensors recorded an energy spike from each unit."

"Arming themselves…" Carter concluded as she watched an enhanced reply of the detonations. "Damn, just like our AFM's." She cursed quietly. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the Admiral. "Sir, these things are clearly Goa'uld versions of our AFM's. These…'maces', for lack of better word, carry around twenty submunitions, each one an unguided AFM warhead which penetrate our shields just as effectively as our AFM's penetrate theirs." She concluded.

"Dear God…" Patterson breathed out, visualising the damage this new weapon could wreak amongst the Fighter Corp.

"Admiral…" Commander Crayven, Patterson's Tactical Action Officer called out. "The surviving Death Gliders are being reinforced and appear to be moving to attack the First and Third Fleet battlegroups! Admiral Kent is launching the remainder of his fighter groups but their numbers are about even and with this new weapon…"

"Have the Gryphon fighter forces been engaged yet?" He demanded hotly.

"Negative, Admiral." The TAO replied.

Patterson spent several precious seconds coming to a decision. "Order half of Gryphon's birds to engage Hek'at forces and for Christ's sake, tell them to watch out for those 'maces'."

The Daniel Jackson's Flight Ops officer stepped forward. "Advise them to keep their formations dispersed as much as possible and try to destroy any of the maces before they have a chance to arm and detonate. They're large enough to have chance of success."

Patterson nodded in agreement at his officer's quick thinking. "And after you've done that…prepare to take Second Fleet into the fight!"

There was a moment's hesitation, barely a second, and then his staff jumped into action. When everybody was immersed in their tasks, O'Neill moved quietly up next to the Admiral of the Fleet. "What are you thinking, Admiral?"

The British Admiral grimaced slightly. "I know we wanted to try and take Gryphon without using Second Fleet but Kent's going to need the Jackson's fighter wings. Fighter casualties are going to be far worse than anything we had allowed for in the initial ops plan. Jack, you might want to consider holding off on the Sohag strike…"

"No way, Admiral." O'Neill replied flatly. "You know as well as I that if we don't take this opportunity now, it'll be years before we get another shot and the butchers bill will be even worse."

"Then we go with what we have," Patterson yielded. "But those maces are going to keep our fighters and bombers suppressed to a serious degree. I'm not sure if we have enough firepower to slug it out against Bast's defenses on Sohag with just our heavy metal alone."

O'Neill looked thoughtful for a moment before seemingly coming to a conclusion. "Worry about Gryphon for the moment, Admiral. I'll see what I can do about organizing some reinforcements." And then he walked away, towards General Carter. He whispered a few words in her ear and the both of them left the Flag CIC quietly.

Patterson had wanted to ask O'Neill just where he was planning to get his reinforcements from since they had already stripped the Alliance defenses to the bone to form the Grand Fleet but the rising hum of the hyperspace engines meant he had no time. They were going into battle.

The serried ranks of Motherships, numerous golden pyramids, of all sizes, fired yet another massive salvo of plasma bursts at the approaching Alliance ships as the remnants of each sides fighter forces regrouped. With the use of Bast's new tash'khat missiles and the Alliance AFM's, future fighter combat promised to be very bloody and very short, with both sides engaging each other in an orgy of mutual destruction.

Hek'at, seeing the hesitation in the Alliance forces before him after the shocking defeat of their fighter attack, pressed home his advantage and ordered half his ships to advance. The massive pyramids began to move forward, slowly at first but rapidly increasing in speed. Although he had orders to preserve his forces and not to engage in the massive toe-to-toe battle that would result in the destruction of his valuable ships, he saw an opportunity here. The Alliance Fighter Corp was their most effective offensive weapon, far more so than their heavy ships which, until recently, lacked the power to go one-on-one with a Goa'uld vessel; with the fighters and bombers effectively neutralized, he might actually defeat, or at least drive off, the Alliance attack, despite their overwhelming numbers.

As the advancing group of Motherships rapidly closed the distance, space warped and twisted around the space between the Motherships and the Alliance fleet.

Hek'at winced with unpleasant surprise as a second group of Alliance ships screamed out of hyperspace right at the edge of Gryphon's gravity well. Barely half the size the original force, the reinforcements consisted of but a single carrier but were more numerous in the heavier battleships and cruisers. Almost instantly, the new Alliance ships began to pour ion cannon fire into the front elements of the advancing Motherships. Taken by surprise, the Mothership formation fell apart as they tried to evade the sudden obstacle in their path and avoid the incoming fire.

Ion bolts slammed into the Goa'uld shields, which flared with an intense orange glow as they tried to dissipate the intense energies being flung at them. The attack seemed to jolt the Jaffa out of their shock as the Motherships began to return fire. The two forces closed rapidly, flinging plasma blasts and ion bolts at each other, shields collapsed, armour splintered and shattered, explosions wracked vessels on both sides as the skirmish soon dissolved into chaos. Patterson was achieving his objective though, he was pushing the advancing Motherships back, giving Admiral Kent time to re-group.

Union Mothership Fist of the Gods

Hek'at eyed the holographic display with scant favour as it showed the primary group of Alliance ships beginning to move in his general direction, apparently starting to recover from their shock loss of so many fighters. Their course appeared to on a curve that would swing around the battle in the center of the field and allow them to engage his vessels holding the line at Gryphon.

"First Prime, that new carrier battlegroup is launching more fighters!" A Jaffa reported in surprise.

Hek'at looked toward the new arrivals on the tactical display and, noting the Jaffa's expression, smiled briefly. "They're not cowards, Tro'san. Though their fighter losses will be just as hideous as ours, thanks to our respective flechette weapons, they do not shirk from doing what must be done. Order udajeet Group Two to engage those fighters but for the rest of the udajeets, their primary target is that new carrier…and commence broad spectrum jamming. Whoever is in charge over there, and I am sure it is their Admiral Patterson, is both cunning and bold but he has brought his ships into the gravity well from which he cannot readily escape. We must deal with him quickly before the larger initial group of ships can engage us."

"Jaffa, Kree!" The Jaffa replied immediately. Hek'at turned back to the display and watched the large blip that hovered just at the rear of the mass of ships that were hopelessly intermeshed.

"You should not have brought your vessel so close, my friend." He murmured quietly.

A new wave of udajeet swept towards the attacking Alliance fighters and fired their tash'khat missiles once more. The Alliance fighters replied by volleying their AFM's, at which point both groups began evasive maneuvers in order to evade the incoming fire. Missiles and 'maces' exploded and a thousand new stars were born as flechettes pierced shields with impunity and fighters on both sides began to die.

A relatively small group of udajeets held back from this savage conflict, waited until the still plentiful survivors were engaged with each other and then shot forward at a breakneck pace, under the cover of heavy jamming, towards the command carrier that support this engagement, the ENS Daniel Jackson.

The Area Defense Officer onboard the Jackson growled as he adjusted his sensors to burn through the intense jamming being emitted from those Motherships. Alone, the carrier's sensors, although powerful, were being overwhelmed by the sheer power available to the Motherships. He had, however, an extra trick up his sleeve. The new Shadow electronic warfare craft were orbiting the battle, albeit at a safe distance, under stealth. Taking a risk, he opened a data-link feed that was currently unaffected by the jamming, to three of the Shadows and requested their sensor data. Almost immediately information poured over the encrypted, burst transmission data-link and he overlayed their sensor input with the carrier's, building up a composite image that wasn't perfect but showed more than enough. With alarm, he slammed his hand down on his com-link as he simultaneously began to orient his point defense batteries.

"Admiral, incoming Gliders, three echelons worth, heading right for us, sir!" He reported urgently.

Patterson cursed as the new composite overview appeared on the main tactical display. "Have the battlegroup come about and get us clear of the gravity well! Launch the reserve fighters and get our destroyer screen back!"

O'Neill watched as the Flag Staff jumped to comply with his orders and Patterson shook his head in frustration. "I screwed up, old boy. I let us get too deep into Gryphon's gravity well…"

"We needed to intervene, Henry." O'Neill replied quietly. "Kent needed time to regroup, time which we've bought him. Now concentrate on getting us out of this." He advised softly.

Patterson nodded grimly and turned to the display once more. The six reserve fighters had launched and were streaking towards the incoming Death Gliders, firing AFM's for all they were worth. Less than a squadron of destroyers were what remained of the carrier's screen and they quickly slid into position, locking in the data-linked point defense net and interposing themselves between the carrier and the oncoming enemy.

A handful of Death Gliders died from AFM's before the reserve fighters were smashed aside, hardly slowing the swarming horde of Gliders. Seconds later, the destroyer screen opened fire with its point defenses. Fire poured from numerous auto-cannon installations, filling space with trinium alloy flechettes that ripped through shields and light armour with ease. More and more Death Gliders died but still they came on. Half the remnants of lead echelon of Death Gliders broke away from the charging and altered course slightly, towards one of the destroyers, the McKinley, that was moving to interpose itself between them and their target. Weapons blazing, plasma blasts from the gliders slammed into the small but relatively powerful destroyer. The McKinley's shields barely held under the pounding but it's Captain resolutely held her position, remaining in their path, silently urging the Death Gliders to break off.

Her mental urgings broke off abruptly as the three remaining Death Gliders held their suicidal course and slammed one after the other into the port side of the destroyer. Internal explosions racked the McKinley and all its weapons stopped firing, its power plant automatically shutting down before it could explode. The remainder of the Death Gliders streaked past the crippled vessel and dived towards the fleeing carrier with now obvious suicidal intent.

The point defenses on the carrier and the surrounding destroyers fired with even more intensity and steadily, one by one, the Death Gliders continued to die. For a moment, Patterson thought they had stopped the suicide attack, but it was not to be. Five Gliders had managed to accelerate past the storm of flechettes, into the clear for a few precious seconds. Weapons blazing, three Gliders slammed into the carrier's powerful shields.

The massive vessel heaved with the impact and numerous crewmen and women that were unsecured, slammed against bulkheads and against consoles.

"Aft and starboard shields are down!" The ADO called out. "We've taken damage to…"

O'Neill never found out what they had taken damage to as the last two Death Gliders slammed into the carrier, one behind the bridge and one amidships, with terrific force. Consoles across the Flag CIC exploded, sending their operators flying. The ceiling bulkhead exploded near to Admiral Patterson and the supporting structure collapsed around him and Commander Crayven, his TAO, who pushed the senior man to the floor while simultaneously trying to cover him with his body.

O'Neill turned in his seat to look over at Sam, who was similarly strapped into a chair near the sensor station. He opened his mouth to speak but was forced to clamp down on a surge of pain as his seat straps cut deeply into him as he was thrown forward hard as the lights flickered and died, plunging everything into darkness.

Alliance Carrier ENS Ark Royal

"Admiral, the Jackson…" An ensign reported fearfully.

Kent watched the secondary display grimly. "I see it." He replied quietly. The Daniel Jackson appeared to be relatively intact albeit with massive damage to several areas. Powerless and adrift, the carrier hung silently in space as the combatants across the battlefield seemed to pause in order to take stock of the sight.

Commander Singh, the Ark Royal's TAO, pointed towards the tactical display and blips that represented the Goa'uld Fleet, which were beginning to move away from the battlefield. "Hek'at's withdrawing, Admiral."

Glancing at the main display, Admiral Kent quickly came to a decision. "We've only got time for one pass before they clear the gravity well. All ships, except for the carriers, increase to flank speed! Concentrate your fire and take out as many of the enemy as you can, while you can."

Union Mothership Fist of the Gods

Hek'at sighed with satisfaction. They had inflicted significant casualties upon the Tau'ri today and he would love to remain in order to finish the job but Bast had given him his orders. He was to preserve his forces at any cost, even if that cost was giving up Gryphon, something he and his Jaffa had fought and died to suppress for the better part of a year. However much that grated, he knew she was right. The Union was severely lacking in Motherships at the moment, fighting their two-front war, and Gryphon wasn't worth the price of losing the war. Besides, despite the damage he had inflicted here today, the Alliance had more than enough ships present, to overcome the rest of his forces.

"All ships, fall back. We leave the Tau'ri to Tal'mac and our Jaffa on the ground now. We are going home."

As Hek'at forces began to pull away from the rapidly closing Alliance ships, a squadron of destroyers streaked forward and charged right up to a Hat'ak, pelting it continually with ion bursts. The Mothership's shields flickered wildly as its return fire found one destroyer and ripped it apart. Several plasma bursts also slammed into the aft section of a destroyer gutting its drive section, leaving the small ship to drift powerless and out of the fight.

Luckily for the crew of the helpless destroyer, a King William class cruiser, the ENS Rodger Young, had been close on their heels and its follow on volley of ion bolts brought the Motherships shields down completely. Almost without pause, its particle lance sent an intensely powerful beam of energy raking across the unshielded hull of the Mothership. The hull melted and ran as the beam cut deep into its vitals.

Flame and wreckage erupted in the beam's wake and the Mothership shuddered with internal explosions. The cruiser deftly glided out of the way as a long-range volley of ion cannon fire, from the Ares class battleships that paced the retreating Motherships, swept in and slammed against the ruined face of the Hat'ak. It was all too much and the Hat'ak simply exploded.

A Shal'kra and three Brel'keht's also joined the Hat'ak in death before, one by one, the Motherships escaped into hyperspace.

Slowing down, the destroyers and cruisers came about and headed back to the battleships, dreadnoughts and carriers. Many of the Fleet were angry that the Goa'uld occupation force had decided to retreat. Though they had taken losses, the damage inflicted upon the enemy had been generally light compared to the fact that the total annihilation of the force had been the objective. No one had expected them to run for it and even now, Fleet analysts were going over observed data on enemy ship numbers over the course of the conflict, for the Union was beginning to show a serious sensitivity to ship losses, even more so than usual.

Perhaps, the analysts began to question, they were lacking ships even more than was generally believed.

In the background, the blue, green and white orb of Gryphon hung in the background. The analysis of enemy numbers could, however, wait. They had a planet to liberate.

Alliance Carrier ENS Daniel Jackson

Consoles sparked and small fires flickered around the CIC, giving off small amounts of light as O'Neill lifted his head up to look around and grunted in pain. The straps had held but his shoulders were very sore. Ruthlessly ignoring the pain, he pressed the release on the chair and staggered upright. The smoky atmosphere that floated above the chair made him choke but he turned towards the last place he saw Carter and found she was also getting to her feet. She appeared to have a nasty gash near her left temple. "You okay, Carter?"

She leaned heavily against a nearby console but nodded wearily. "Shaken but okay, Jack."

O'Neill bit back a sigh of relief and gestured to the Damage Control repeater station. Damage Control was the domain of the ship's commander, Captain DuPont, but the Flag CIC had a repeater console that allowed the Admiral to stay advised of the ship's status. "See if you can find out what's going on with the rest of the ship."

As Carter nodded her acknowledgement, O'Neill gingerly made his way across the wreckage of the CIC, to the mass of debris under which the Admiral was buried, along with his TAO, Commander Crayven. A painfully young ensign was desperately ripping at the debris to get at the Admiral, straining to lift a heavy sheet of armour plating.

O'Neill swiftly grabbed the end of the wreckage opposite to the ensign and grunted audibly as he tried to lift his end up. The wreckage shifted slightly and with their combined efforts, they managed to slide the twisted metal sheet to one side. The ensign gasped as the cleared wreckage revealed the bloody and shattered body of Commander Crayven.

A barely audible groan emanated from under the body and O'Neill flinched in shock. Eyes wide, the ensign gingerly tried to shift the lifeless body of the TAO. The man's shoulders moved to one side slightly but the rest of his body was hopelessly twisted and trapped with the rest of the wreckage in an unholy tangle of metal and flesh. It was enough however, the reveal the deathly pale face of Lord Sir Henry Patterson, Admiral of the Fleet.

"Henry…" O'Neill called out with worry.

The older man's eyes opened slowly to reveal his left eye complete red from ruptured blood vessels. "Jack…the fleet?"

O'Neill exhaled heavily. He didn't know what the hell was going on outside the hull of the ship. "Hek'at was beginning to fall back when we were hit. We've taken a beating but we're still here so I'd have to say Gryphon's ours again."

Patterson closed his eyes in satisfaction. "Good." He replied softly and fell silent.

Slowly, O'Neill reached out and placed two fingers against the Admiral's neck. There was a pulse, weak but there nonetheless. He looked towards the ensign. "See if you can get a medic up here and stay with him."

"Aye, General." The ensign replied softly and O'Neill climbed heavily to his feet. The Flag CIC was a scene from Hell itself and closely resembled an abattoir with the dead strewn across the wreckage like so much battered meat. He purposefully made his way over to Carter who was working furiously with a surviving Lieutenant from the weapons section.

"The ship's a mess, Jack." Carter reported. "We've got fires on all decks. Hanger bays 4, 5 and 6 are completely gutted…I'll be amazed if anyone survived down there. Engines are offline, so are shields, weapons and main power. Life-support's on auxiliary power and damage control teams are trying to get to the damaged trunk lines to get the mains back on line before we run out of battery power."

"Communications?" O'Neill asked.

Carter worked the console for several seconds before grunting in slight but wry amusement. "Communications actually has power, it's just the receiver/transmitter array was taken out by the kamikaze."

O'Neill sighed. "Do what you can to help." He replied before turning away to help find any survivors.

Chapter 5

D-Day Redux

04:11 ZULU

August 14th 2010

Defense Command Centre, Edo City, Gryphon

Staring at the bright green 'ready status' icon of the ENS Daniel Jackson, General Tyler shook his head in wonder. It had taken several hours for the rescue units dispatched from the other ships of Grand Fleet to finally bring the damage to the ENS Daniel Jackson under control. Almost half the crew had been killed in the primary and secondary explosions and the carrier would be in the yard for several months as a result but O'Neill and the survivors had, somehow, managed to get the carrier back into limited operation. A few squadrons of fighters and bombers had re-embarked the carrier but most had been reassigned to the rest of Grand Fleet to make up for the losses to the Death Glider's new weapon.

The real worry so far was Fleet Admiral Patterson. He was in a critical but stable condition in the Royal Palace's hospital wing, receiving the best care he could get from the Royal Family's personal doctors. With Patterson injured, there was some debate as to who would lead Grand Fleet in action against Sohag. Most expected command to fall to Admiral Kent but there was no clear line of succession. A significant number of Fleet personnel, both human and alien, felt that Admiral J'Thuk should be elevated to Fleet Admiral. Admiral J'Thuk, now once again in command of Second Fleet now that the Daniel Jackson was out of action, had brooked no argument and had stated to O'Neill that he had no interest in commanding Grand Fleet while Admiral Kent was available, noting that Kent had been acting as the de facto commander since Patterson was injured anyway, and was doing a fine job of it. While embarrassed by his Sintesian friend's confidence, Kent quickly assumed official command of Grand Fleet and had his aide spend a few moments to draw up a clear command hierarchy amongst the senior admirals of the Fleet.

Though Tyler was generally in awe of the Alliance and its members, he took a kind of perverse pleasure in noting that they weren't perfect and that they made mistakes just like any other sentient. In this case, it would appear to have been a blindspot caused by having so many individual navies contributing to the Alliance whole, no one want the responsibility of drawing up a hierarchy that would place one admiral over another and possibly causing an interstellar diplomatic faux pas.

All this rank wrangling lasted but a short while and mattered little in the short term.

The rest of Grand Fleet was still in the Gryphon inner system, replenishing supplies from their colliers, readying themselves for the final hyperspace jump to Sohag. They were merely waiting to rearms and themselves and to see how the initial assaults on Gryphon fared.

Earlier, Tyler had observed General Roberts in discussion with the King and Queen in front of the main display. The King and Queen were obviously horrified to see so many deaths to the Alliance forces as they had hit Hek'at's fleet hard but try as he might, he couldn't share their horror…yet. This was not because he was a cold, hard man, but because the total deaths from the fighting in space were but a tithe of the total casualties that were soon to be inflicted on both sides as the Gryphon Army, now backed with heavy Alliance support, moved in to take the fourteen occupied sanctuary cities from a massive, well equipped and well entrenched Jaffa force.

The King and Queen had now removed themselves to the observation lounge that overlooked the command center when O'Neill had finally arrived.

The Jackson had taken up a stationary orbit around Gryphon, along with the dozens of massive troop transports that had arrived from staging points around the Alliance. Almost a million soldiers were currently in system, waiting amongst the transports. The majority of these were earmarked for Gryphon but four of the transports, each carrying around twenty thousand troops, were heading to Sohag with Grand Fleet.

General Tyler tore his eyes away from the diamond dust specks of Grand Fleet on the secondary display and looked towards General Roberts. The final pieces were in position. Fifteen hundred Orca assault shuttles, packed with 150,000 troops, took up formation, awaiting the word to begin.

He also had the last of his reserve divisions ready for a major counter attack on the occupied Sanctuary cities that would also hopefully distract the Jaffa as the assault birds made their runs under the shield canopies.

It was time.

Roberts stepped up to the main console that overlooked to array of consoles and their operators. "Initiate 'Redemption'."

As one officer activated the 'Redemption' timeline, another officer sent out the pre-arranged communication signal to Spearhead.

Command Centre, Spearhead

Major DeSoto took a deep breath as the signal arrived and turned to Sgt Jenkins, who sat at the command console. "Dial it up." He ordered.

"Aye, sir." Jenkins replied. His fingers blurred over the keyboard and seconds later, the Stargate rumbled to life. Everyone watched intently as the chevrons locked into place, one after the other. Though it felt like a lifetime, the last chevron finally locked into place and the Stargate exploded into life.

DeSoto said nothing as he let his people do their jobs. Sgt. Jenkins signaled for the techs in the Gate Facility to send the assault probes through.

The entire Command Centre watched the viewscreen intently as the first of the heavily armoured probes rolled up the ramp.

General Foster, CO of the 'Spartans', stood before the Stargate, along with his assembled unit, and watched the squat assault probes trundle forward. Based on the old MALP vehicle, they had added thick armour and a twin railgun mount that gave the vehicle a punch way out of proportion to its size. The squat 'mini-tank' rolled up to the shimmering, quicksilver surface of the wormhole and drove straight in, behind it, another seven vehicles fearlessly followed the lead probe into the wormhole.

Previous attempts at dialing the Stargate on Gryphon had shown that Bast utilizing the Iris technology they had left behind. More than a few Stargates on key Union worlds were being outfitted with Iris shields built by Bast. This had long caused a problem among the Assault Corp, forcing them to pick other targets or other methods of infiltration such as dropships from orbit.

Today, with the help of the Tollan, they were going to rewrite the book on wormhole assaults.

The assault probe was fitted with an Alliance phase unit, based on Tollan tech, that allowed its wearer to pass through solid matter unhindered for up to two minutes. The same technology that, thanks to a tactical review written by Teal'c earlier in the year, was being outfitted to the Mod 3 Combat Armour; the same armour with which his Spartans had spent the past two months training in and were now wearing.

Lt Col Samuel Lyman glanced at the General and then returned his gaze to the repeater display that showed the feed from the probe. "Think all this new tech will work, General? Because I gotta say, being turned into a thin smear of jam at the other end of this here wormhole isn't all that appealing."

Foster shrugged helplessly. "I'm from the old school, Sam. I grew up with the M-16 and we only used computers to keep track of the payroll. Now, every third soldier is a computer whiz and we can travel fast-than-light. You and that armour of yours could whip a regiment of pre-Alliance main battle tanks and we're holding this discussion on another planet. Sam, if I think about the technology too much, I'd have to admit defeat and retire."

Lyman smiled wryly. "So why haven't you retired?"

The static on the repeater screen cleared to show a familiar hall, full of Jaffa. Almost instantly, the Jaffa began to open fire on the probe to completely no effect. At least initially. The Phase Device had a very limited operational lifetime before having to shut down. This wan't due to any particular power issues as Carter had initially theorized but more to do with the long term effect of phasing on the molecules of an object. If an object was to phase for more than 271 seconds, the 'inertia' attached to the phased molecules would become permanent and would be unable to rejoin their original phase. Therefore, the standard operating time of the Alliance Phase unit was 150 seconds, at which point, the device automatically pushed its wearer back into phase with the rest of the universe.

As it did with the probe now.

Foster gestured to the screen. "Cause despite all the technology we have, they'll never be a substitute for an intelligent, well-trained, ground pounder."

Despite the armor, the first assault probe was wrecked by staff weapon fire in less than a minute. A minute, however, was more than long enough for the other seven vehicles to arrive and form a half circle around the Stargate. Staff blasts and railgun fire flew back and forth, numerous Jaffa died but one by one, the rest of the probes began to die with them.

As the telemetry from the forth probe went offline, the General turned to Colonel Lyman. "Send the first wave, Sam."

Lyman gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement and press the recessed button on his neck plate, deploying his helmet around his head in seconds. Fully outfitted for battle, the Lt Colonel pointed towards the first group of armoured troops near the base of the ramp. "1st Platoon, phase shift and move out!"

The ramp shook as the lead platoon, followed swiftly by Lyman and his 2IC, ran up towards the wormhole. As they ran forward, each soldier seemed to shimmer and fade slightly as they engaged their phase devices and ran into the wormhole.

Embarkation Chamber, Wakazi Base

The Jaffa Second Tal'mac flinched as a railgun round slammed into the overturned cargo container he was using for cover and cursed as it nearly punched through. The damned Tau'ri machines were dying but they had managed to clear an area around the base of the Chappa'ai and it was only a matter of time before Alliance soldiers began pouring through the Chappa'ai.

Peering over the lip of the container, Tal'mac eyed the damned Iris with complete disgust. The Chappa'ai had exploded to life and he had ordered the Iris closed. This happened every other week as the Tau'ri kept testing their defenses. This time however, those squat metal monsters had simply trundled through the metal shield as if it wasn't there! Sliding back behind the container, he grunted in mild satisfaction. Fortunately, his Jaffa were always prepared and they had dispatched the first probe in short order but the others had followed quickly and pushed them back from the wormhole and for the life of him, he didn't know how he was going to be able to stop the Tau'ri from coming through!

"Second, look!" Another Jaffa called out. Spinning upright, Tal'mac turned to face the Chappa'ai, only to see an armoured soldier suddenly standing in front of the Iris. Shimmering like a heatwave, the soldier quickly ran down to the half circle of dead machines and took cover. A steady stream of Alliance soldiers began to appear through the Iris and followed suit.

A few Jaffa opened fire at the soldiers but their staff blasts simply passed through them like ghosts, hitting the metal shield behind them.

"Aim for the soldiers that are already behind cover!" He ordered with frustration. He knew the obviously Tollan devices would keep them safe for at least a minute until the began to run the risk of being permanently phased and the units had to be turned off. A loud WHOOSH filled the large chamber of the Gryphonese facility as a missile flew out from the Tau'ri positions and slammed into a group of Jaffa on the far side of the hall. The subsequent explosion ripped the group apart and the shockwave rocked everyone in the large but essentially enclosed area.

That missile had just taken out his ready reserve force before it had had a chance to alter the battle to any extent and he lacked the numbers to overrun their positions in a mass charge. There was no choice; the Alliance had managed to secure the Chappa'ai. Tal'mac spat a particularly vile Jaffa curse and grabbed the Jaffa who acted as his communications officer. "Have all units fall back to the second level! Recall a Legion, no two, from the base perimeter…the 1241st and 894th I think, and have them meet us on the second level. We'll barricade there and hopefully keep them bottled up down here!"

His brain told him that none of it really mattered, especially against these new armoured Alliance troops. The Union Fleet had been kicked out of the Gryphon system and he didn't think the Alliance would allow it to fall into Goa'uld hands once more. His orders from Hek'at had been to stay behind and hold out for as long as possible. Quietly, the big First Prime had told him that if he felt that further fighting would prove pointless, he would be allowed to surrender his forces with no shame.

The very idea had shocked Tal'mac to the core and his instant denial of any such surrender had caused Hek'at to smiled softly and with great sadness.

Now, as he watched his, HIS, Jaffa fall back, dying under the weapons of the Alliance for what was effectively a lost cause, the idea of surrender didn't seem so impossible.

Goa'uld Union High Command, Sohag

Bast stared unblinkingly at the hologram of the local section of the Galaxy, her face blank with concentration.

Gryphon was a lost cause. It had taken that world and the futile attack on Earth to prove to her that invading a fully prepared world with a near equal tech base was a losing proposition in the long run against a multi-world polity like the Alliance.

What was O'Neill's next move going to be? She shook her head. There was simply too many opportunities for him. She found herself unable to do nothing but react to his moves and that was a losing proposition. She needed to turn it around, dammit!

The glowing red icon of the Alliance fleet burned brightly neared the sphere that represented Gryphon. His Fleet was the main threat at the moment. In another year, enough construction would come on line in order to allow her to resume an offensive posture but the Tau'ri could use that year to build even more ships.

Think!

They were losing the war. A conventional war. She needed something unconventional.

The red glow of the Alliance fleet burned in her mind. Suddenly, she turned to the Jaffa Second attending her. "Order the guardian Motherships from all the Core Worlds within two days travel to converge on Sohag with all speed!"

The Second hesitated. That order would leave a lot of the Core Worlds uncovered.

Bast smiled with surprising patience. "I know it sounds crazy but send the order." She prodded gently.

The Second nodded with severely suppressed reluctance and moved to comply with her order. As she watched him go, Bast thought hard about what she was about to do. The Alliance Fleet was now an impressive force of ships and they have shown themselves to have an impressive capacity for building them quickly. If she could destroy it or at least severely damage that fleet to a certain extent, it wouldn't alter the overall balance of power insomuch as it would provide the Union with enough breathing room to regroup.

Pulling every Mothership from the defenses of the Core Worlds to preemptively attack the Alliance Fleet was an incredible risk but it was so unconventional that there was no way O'Neill would expect it.

Assuming the Jaffa on Gryphon could keep them occupied for another four days…

ENS Daniel Jackson

As he made his way along a secondary corridor on his way to the bridge, O'Neill squeezed past two damage control crew that were leaning inside a damaged bulkhead, repairing severed control runs and power feeds. Slowly but surely, the Jackson was coming back to life. Even now, the surviving embarked Assault Force troopers were ceasing their limited but helpful efforts at damage control as more and more qualified engineers were brought aboard. Those same troopers were now getting prepared for the assault on the besieged Gryphon Sanctuary cities.

They only had to wait a little longer before the Spartans who, even as repairs were still ongoing, were driving hard against the heart of Wakazi. From orbit, Intelligence had watched with satisfaction as numerous Jaffa were being pulled off the defensive perimeter around Wakazi in order to counter the unexpected threat at their center. O'Neill sent a silent thanks once more to Teal'c who had convinced the right people to utilize the Tollan phase technology in a 'politically acceptable' way.

Unbidden, O'Neill let out a snort of disgust at the thought that sending a phased Naquadria bomb through the Stargate was tantamount to genocide and totally unacceptable, but sending their soldiers through a wormhole one by one to be killed as it they were entering a meat grinder was acceptable?

Politicians!

Level 6, Wakazi Base, Gryphon

Eight hours after the initial Stargate assault, Lt Col Samuel Lyman swiped a sleeve across his dirty face and took stock of the suddenly silent corridors of the sixth level in Wakazi Base. His men and women had fallen back to their positions on the fifth level and the Jaffa were regrouping on the seventh. There were eleven floors between the Gate Embarkation Chamber and the surface of Wakazi and nearly every corridor in-between was strewn with hundreds of Jaffa and Alliance soldiers dead. The fighting had been fierce and bloody as he and the Spartans simultaneously held off counter-attacks and advanced section by bloody section. The Jaffa commander had the Stargate recharge periods timed to a nicety and was throwing everything he had at them everytime the twenty minute cooling off period came round.

Fortunately, the Spartans, in their Mod 3 Combat Armour, were an exceptionally tough nut to crack and though their lines had bent, they had held and the vast numbers of Jaffa on the surface were forced by the confined corridors of the base to attack his defenses in a relative trickle, rather than the flood they would have been on the surface.

Looking at his 2IC, Lyman grimaced tiredly as the trudged down a secured corridor. Equally tired troopers sat heavily along the sides as they took what was essentially their first break in six hours of constant fighting. "How many Legions do you think we've pulled off the line so far?"

Major LeHavre gave a Gallic shrug. "We have around three hundred dead and twice that wounded. The Jaffa dead are knee deep in some places, no? They must have taken nearly three times that. I'd say we've wiped out the better part of a Legion and tied down yet another three. Intelligence stated that Wakazi was being held by fifteen to twenty Legions, so…" He trailed off expectantly.

Lyman nodded. "We've put a dent in them all right." He came to a decision, though his men were far from fought out, they needed time to regroup. "Have the Spartans dig in and hold. I'm calling in the orbital assault!"

ENS Ark Royal, Grand Fleet Flagship

Fleet Admiral Kent stood in front of the massive bridge viewport and stared morosely at the brutally wounded carrier, the ENS Daniel Jackson. The damage was finally under control but from the outside, the shattered hanger bays were a gaping wound that no amount of damage control could hide. The fact that she had held together was a testament to the designers of the class.

Kent's TAO, Commander Singh, strode up to the Admiral holding a datapad. "Admiral, we've received a signal from the surface, sir…its Lt Col Lyman. He says he's pushed as far as he can for now, and requests we send in the assault while he regroups."

Taking the datapad from Commander Singh, Kent read Lyman's transmission and looked up, out of the viewport, towards the serried ranks of assault shuttles, packed full of Alliance Marines, awaiting his word.

"Send them in, Commander, and notify General Roberts to initiate his counter-attack."

Hundreds upon hundreds of pilots received the attack order from the Fleet Flag and, almost as one, punched their engines to full power and screamed towards Gryphon on dozens of different courses. All heading to either Wakazi or the first seven occupied Sanctuary cities to be liberated.

Onboard Dropship 67-Charlie, of Fleet Assault Wing Tango, War-Major J'Nal gripped the flight controls in his massive paws, his snout stretched back in smile.

"You really dig this shit, huh?" A youthful voice commented beside him.

The bear-like Sintesian turned to look at his co-pilot, Ensign Rawley. "Kid, I was dropping on Jaffa while you were still in your mother's pouch."

"Enabling ATMO flight surfaces…Human's don't have pouches, 'Nal." Rawley stated and smiled absently as the dropship begin to rattle. They were beginning to hit atmosphere.

"Confirm ATMO. We're in the track. The humans on Altair IV have pouches…" J'Nal countered as they pierced the atmosphere and the air turned to flame outside the ship.

Ensign Rawley flipped several controls and shook his head. "They don't count. They used to be Jaffa, ten thousand years ago, till the System Lords forgot about them."

The view outside began to clear as quickly as it had been obscured and far below them, in the distance, they could see the massive military city of Wakazi.

Orange flashes winked across the cityscape and, seconds later, plasma bursts began to explode all around them.

"INCOMING!" Some other dropship pilot called out over the radio. Quite uselessly, J'Nal thought. "There go the corvettes." He announced as the larger Tollan craft accelerated forward and began to intercept incoming plasma blasts with precise bursts from their fast tracking cannons. They couldn't stop them all but they managed to reduce the incoming fire by a significant percentage. A small corner of his mind noted that this defensive fire was as nothing compared to what was expected from the Fortress Palace on Sohag. Rumor Central had it that there was something new and very hush, hush in the wind regarding that upcoming attack, something that wouldn't require the Fleet Assault Wings to commit suicide dropping in on Core World defenses.

"Range to target, six hundred klicks." Rawley announced and pushed a button that activated the intercom to the troops in the bay. "Hang on, ladies and gentlemen, things are about to get a little rough."

"Time to get low, kid." J'Nal growled in anticipation and pushed the flight controls forward. The nose of the dropship pitched forward steeply and the speed increased rapidly as the small craft screamed towards the ground like a comet.

Rawley glanced out the window and checked his displays. "The rest of the group is with still with us, Major."

"Good." J'Nal murmured. "We're on final approach." The dropship rocked as a plasma blast exploded close by. The flak bursts were increasing in intensity and accuracy as the range dropped rapidly. A Tollan corvette dropped in front of the assault wave and, cannons blazing, intercepted a heavy and well targeted volley of plasma fire. Unfortunately, the crew's single-minded determination to protect the transports allowed a second, almost simultaneous volley of plasma blasts to slam into the corvette. It's shields coruscated in energy. Blast after blast slammed into the protective skin of energy that ultimately failed. Raw energy ate away at the incredibly strong alloy, ripping into the heart of the corvette which exploded in a smear of flame.

Jaw clenched tight, J'Nal silently said a prayer for the brave souls of the corvette and jammed the stick forward, dumping altitude rapidly, as another volley of plasma swept towards them.

Wakazi Base, Kesh quadrant (Sector Nine)

Jaffa Second T'oak cursed as the volley of fire from one of his energy cannons of anti-aircraft battery Kesh-12 flew over the top of an Alliance dropship that nimbly dropped several metres. "Retarget and fire again, you near-sighted dogs!" He shouted at his gunners.

Suddenly, something screamed low over their heads and slammed into a heavy artillery regiment six hundred metres behind them. The massive explosion and its resulting shockwave rocked them hard and several Jaffa muttered prayers to the Gods.

"Fire, damn you all!" T'oak screamed as the cloud of dropships and their fighter escorts close rapidly. "FIRE!"

The energy weapons of anti-air battery Kesh-12 opened fire and plasma blasts filled the air around the Alliance craft. The streams of fire reached out like individual fingers of flame and as they touched the incoming Alliance ships, they exploded into smears of flame, wreckage and shattered bodies.

As T'oak saw at least a corvette, three dropships and two bombers explode, he cheered along with his men. As they wildly celebrated their victory, the Second scanned the sky and saw two bombers streak under the canopy shield toward them, two orange flames blossoming to life underneath each of their wings.

T'oak drew back in alarm and turned to alert his still celebrating men to the danger but stopped. They wouldn't able to get clear in time anyway. Let them enjoy their last moments. At least we have done our duty.

Four AGM-265 Wolverine missiles slammed in and around the light cannons of battery Kesh-12 and the world of T'oak and his Jaffa turned to flame.

"Hold on!" J'Nal growled out as he jerked the controls of his Orca dropship and slammed the bulky vessel into the dusty surface of Gryphon.

Ensign Rawley punched a switch on the control panel and the main doors in the rear swung open. Small launchers on the back of the dropship flipped open and began firing numerous multi-spectral smoke canisters in all directions, creating a billowing cloud that prevented positive locks from Jaffa weaponry.

"Clear the bay!" The crew chief in back screamed as he slammed his controls and released the drop harnesses that secured the troops in their seats.

Shouting almost incoherently, the company commanders and NCO's led their men rapidly out of the back of the dropship and into the protective smoke cloud. Along massive stretches of the shattered Wakazi perimeter, thousands of Alliance Ground Force troops were deploying into the remains of the Jaffa lines. Cratered trenches still provided a modicum of cover that allowed the ground Force to gain a foothold in and around Wakazi.

Though the outer perimeter of the Jaffa-held Wakazi defenses had been essentially destroyed in several sectors, the inner line of defense was practically untouched. Several flights of Pegasus bombers streaked over the heads of the Alliance infantry and plastered the Jaffa lines with a hurricane of missiles and ion cannon fire. Explosions rippled across the line but an answering storm of staff blasts and energy cannon fire blotted several bombers from the sky before the others retreated to a safe distance.

"Are all our people out?" War-Major J'Nal asked his co-pilot. Jaffa artillery was had shifted from the now under-cover Alliance troops and their energy shells were beginning to fall in and around the grounded dropships.

Rawley nodded in the affirmative as the crew chief in back had just signaled their empty status with a green light. "Good to go!"

Without hesitation, J'Nal slammed the throttles forward and pulled back on the control stick. The whine of the anti-grav units increased as the AG clusters along to bottom of the craft pushed the dropship into the air. The main drives kicked in and the Orca shot forward, away from the landing zone, keeping low until they were clear of the shield and the long-range anti-aircraft batteries. The other Orcas of Assault Wing Tango were spread out behind them.

J'Nal, having completed his part of the assault, relaxed slightly. The rest is up to them.

Alliance Marines swarmed across the wreckage of the Jaffa perimeter. Staff blasts slammed into the ground in and around them. They replied with autocannon, railgun and light ion cannon fire. Energy flew back and forth and soldiers died but the Jaffa Legions were shaken by the overwhelming speed of the Alliance assault.

Jaffa tactics were to drop the men off far from the front and march into battle. Using any craft smaller than a Mothership to land soldiers under fire had never been widely used, but then, the System Lords were never known for their subtlety. Simply landing a Mothership on their enemy's position usually sufficed to overcome any foe.

Regardless, the Jaffa had experienced such assaults before, albeit on a far smaller scale and the experienced veterans amongst the Jaffa contingent were calling in for massive fire support to smash the Alliance beachhead before it could expand further.

Unfortunately, with the exception of one or two particularly well situated commanders, as the Jaffa tried their communicators, all they were met with was the banshee squeal of a powerful jamming signal.

Second Tal'mac sighed heavily as his field command post, an armoured weapons locker on the surface, but near the center of Wakazi, was rocked from a nearby explosion. That one had been close. He grimaced wryly at his own unwitting joke. His 'command post' was little more than a well-defended bunker. Nearly all of his communications were being jammed and his Second's mobile command posts were being picked off one by one.

Like valkyries, the Alliance had swept down over his outer defenses and entire sections of the line had seemed to dissolve. Where Jaffa had stood facing outward, now stood Tau'ri, facing inward. He told himself that it wasn't his men's fault, that Hek'at had captured this base easily enough the first time, why shouldn't it be hard a second time. As long as the attacker has the initiative and enough men, there was very little he would be able to do. He certainly hadn't expected to have to fight an enemy inside his own base but no one had expected them to walk right through the metal shield the Tau'ri called the Iris.

Who would have thought that since the damned Tollan's had joined the Alliance , they would practically give them the phasing technology that they had jealously guarded for hundreds of years, allowing their soldiers to pierce the defenses he had erected around the chappa'ai. Diverting soldiers from the perimeter in order to retake the chappa'ai had only resulted in a weakened perimeter, hundreds of dead Jaffa in the corridors of the base, and an interstellar gateway that was still in enemy hands. He felt a dark suspicion that the movement of Jaffa had been an intentional objective.

"The chappa'ai is active once more." A Jaffa announced from across the bunker.

Damn.

Another 38 minutes of incoming reinforcements…figure about one hundred soldiers every minute…this position was simply untenable.

"Begin pulling our remaining cohorts back from inside the base. We can't retake the chappa'ai and we sure as hell can't match them for numbers anymore…"

Another Jaffa looked up from his map tablet. "And go where? Another three Legion-equivalents are heading in from the west!"

"Then we'll fight our way out!" Tal'mac roared in reply. He stormed over to the Jaffa with the tablet and ripped it from his grasp. "Bring all our reserves to the northern perimeter, there's a gap there we can exploit! We'll load everyone onto the remaining al'kesh and pra'kesh transports and head for Kawa."

"Kawa's being attacked as well!" Another Jaffa exclaimed with a little more panic in his voice than Tal'mac would have liked.

"Yes but not as hard as here. If we storm north, we can counter-attack from their rear and, Bast willing, punch through to Kawa." Tal'mac countered and suddenly, an idea occurred to him. Thinking furiously, he accessed the map tablet and brought up his planetary troop deployments.

"New orders!" He called out after a moment's scrutiny of the tablet. "I want every available erg of power directed to our remaining emitters. We need to pierce the jamming and get a signal to the other occupation forces…have them make a fighting withdrawal to the cities of Kawa, Okisoto, Isi and Agawa. We'll consolidate our remaining forces and make the price of retaking those four cities too high for the Alliance to contemplate."

Defense Command Centre, Edo City, Gryphon

General Roberts held his hands tightly behind his back as he studied the numerous secondary repeater displays that were arrayed in front of his command desk. He was too nervous to sit. Each display showed the various assaults that were occurring all over the planet. The Jaffa were being pushed hard on all fronts, especially amongst sthe recently taken Sanctuary cities where they hadn't had all that long to fortify their positions.

"The secondary divisions are moving in now." General Tyler commented from beside him.

Roberts nodded absently as he studied the Wakazi attack with added focus. Their troop dispositions had begun to change across the entire base, it looked like…

"Lt Col Lyman is reporting all Jaffa inside the base have pulled back." A communication tech reported in rising jubiliation. "His forces are advancing through base once more and are encountering zero opposition."

Another technician looked up at the General. "The line of defenses in the south of Wakazi are pulling back, collapsing in on themselves."

Tyler growled in satisfaction. "A general retreat."

"To where?" Roberts wondered out loud. The displays showed the Jaffa assembling in the northern sectors of the base. The east and western flanks of the Jaffa perimeter were keeping his troops back in an astounding display of firepower but they wouldn't be able to keep such concentrations up for long.

The electronic warfare officer stepped away from his technicians, who were sat in a enclosed cubby hole to one side of the Command Centre, and addressed the General. "Sir, we've just picked up a powerful signal emanating from the centre of Wakazi. It's Jaffa battle encoding and we're blocking a lot of the signal but they must have some heavy duty emitters going 'cause there's some leakage anyway, at least on a local scale."

"It's not going interstellar then?" Tyler demanded.

The EWO shook his head. "If it had been tightbeamed then yes but this was wide-cast, it'll be lucky to get picked up beyond atmosphere, but there was just too much power for us to jam completely. Everybody on the planet will have heard it."

"It was broadcast in the clear?" Roberts asked curiously.

"A wideband signal." The EWO acknowledged. "But heavily encrypted. We have the signal but we've not had much luck in decoding Jaffa battle encrypt. Neither has the rest of the Alliance as far as I know."

"Probably an all units signal for a general retreat…" Tyler concluded cautiously.

The General grunted in acknowledgement and turned back to watch the drama unfold. It was playing out spookily similar to how the Jaffa took Wakazi in the first place. As the secondary divisions closed in from the south, the Jaffa mobile assets regrouped to the north under continuous fire and began to withdraw from the base. Numerous dug in Jaffa elements remained across the entire base, just enough to prevent the Army from immediately pursuing the retreating Jaffa.

Large Jaffa transports and a handful of al'kesh bombers rose up and flew slowly north as their Scorpions and Bug transports stomped steadily in pursuit. A cloud of Death Gliders, at least four echelons, flew above them, ready to repulse any attempt at strafing the retreating column.

"They're heading for Kawa." Roberts murmured quietly.

Beside him, Tyler sighed heavily. "We're getting withdrawals across the board except for Kawa, Okisoto, Isi and Agawa. We hadn't pushed too hard in those cities cause there aren't all that many of our people there anymore and the Jaffa are very secure."

Both the Generals watched as ragtag streams of Jaffa, still in their hundreds of thousands with masses of equipment despite their losses, head towards the four heavily occupied and well defended cities.

They would take the better part of two days to get there, with the Gryphon Army and Air Corp continually harassing them but arrive they would, and those four cities would be a blister on the face of Gryphon that would not be easily removed.

"General Roberts?" A familiar voice called out somewhat hesitantly from behind him.

Roberts spun round with a surprised expression on his face. "You're Majesty." He greeted Queen Anne, who stood near the doorway of the Command Centre, unsure as to whether it was okay to disturb her commanders at such a time.

"I've been watching the signal feed in the throne room with my husband…" She announced, "…but I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by all the raw data and would like to hear a brief status report from you if that would be possible."

Roberts glanced at Tyler, who himself was surpressing a grin, and turned back to the queen with a solemn but proud expression on his face. "Your Highness, I beg to report that as of ten minutes ago we have secured the Stargate and regained control of the planet."

For a second or two, her expression remained blank but as his words finally penetrate her conciousness, she bowed her head and gripped herself tightly. Oh, she had dreamed of this day for over a year! After a minute of blissful awareness, she looked up at Roberts, he eyes bright with unshed tears. "Thank you, General…my thanks to you all." She said, now addressing the entire command centre. "I don't have the words to express my gratitude and my respect for what you have all accomplished, I…"

She trailed off, literally unable to form the words past the unexpected lump in her throat.

Roberts smiled tightly. "Troops, ATTEN-TION!"

All around the command centre, the officers and technicians stood as one, and placed a closed fist across their heart in the way of a Gryphon salute.

The Queen looked across the sea of faces, some who where crying unashamedly with pride, and felt their love for her and their world multiply a thousand-fold. They had had held against the entire Union war machine for over a year, contesting every inch of dirt, every blade of grass, every house, every room. Never flinching, never running away.

With men and women such as these, anything was possible.

End of Part 2