Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and all characters therein are the property of Richard Dean Anderson, Michael Greenberg et al. No money is being made from this story and no infringement of copyright is intended. All original characters are the property of C.D. Stewart.
Summary: This (shortish) story is set time-wise roughly about 150 years after what in real-life would be the end of both real-action series, Stargate: SG-1 and Stargate: Atlantis. I am assuming that Stargate SG-1 will end after ten seasons (2008) and Atlantis also after ten seasons (2015). Rating: T/PG.
QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT
Chapter 2
Chemosh had taken in his name from an ancient Caananite deity, and had been deposed in antiquity by Ra, who nearly annihilated him. Chemosh's desperate flight led him to a small backwater solar system that had been a minor Ancient colony. Luckily for Chemosh and his Queen, Ashtoreth, and their few remaining Jaffa and slaves, the few still working bits of Ancient technology left in the badly decayed ruins included a cloaking device similar to what Nirrti would stumble over centuries later.
For centuries while the System Lords jockeyed for position, Chemosh concentrated on rebuilding vast Jaffa armies, eventually managing to cloak the entire planet from sensors just in case anyone investigated the backwater system. Undisturbed, he was able to engender slavish devotion and fanatical loyalty in his Jaffa. Finally Chemosh had no choice but to re-emerge when Ashtoreth and her host were killed in an accident at around the same time his planetary cloak – never that stable to start with – began to fail as the power source (Chemosh didn't know it was a ZPM) finally became exhausted. Without a queen to spawn fresh larvae since Ashtoreth had spawned no daughter, Chemosh's Jaffa would begin to die when the current new larvae ran out and the rest matured into the adults who would reject a Jaffa and that Chemosh had always killed anyway to prevent any usurpation.
Chemosh emerged find Baal newly defeated, apparently by the upstart slave-world of the Tau'ri, as he was completely unaware of the existence of replicators, Ancients, a semi-ascended Anubis – or the Ori. Chemosh's plan had been simple - swiftly eliminate any 'threat' from the Tau'ri once and for all, and take his place in the current power vacuum as the only System Lord in the known galaxy.
Chemosh had appeared over the Northern Hemisphere that bright summer's day, using his communication technology to 'beam' images of himself on the bridge of his flagship and those of the two accompanying Motherships to all humanity from the technical West to primitive tribes deep in isolated jungles and even those scarce few on both Poles.
The world had come to a standstill as people poured into the streets to see; his awesome Pyramid hovering high above central London, Chemosh had demanded the instant and abject worship of the slave race or else be annihilated. Stepping out onto the balcony of Buckingham Palace, a diminutive white-haired woman in a smart powder-blue suit calmly declared that on the contrary, she was giving Chemosh the opportunity to flee or surrender to the people of Earth.
Chemosh had roared that he had already destroyed their 'much vaunted' SG-1 en route to the Tau'ri Homeworld and that they were doomed. Raising one eyebrow in a manner very reminiscent of Teal'c, the British Queen had smiled and retorted that the Goa'uld Apophis had made the same claim, as had Hathor…and Heru-Ur…and Cronos…and Osiris…and Sokar…and Anubis…and Baal…
Chemosh had bellowed at his First Prime to blast the 'crone and her dot of an island' into atoms. With the exquisite timing of the truly cosmically lucky, energy rings suddenly appeared on the bridge of the second Mothership, disappearing to reveal an SG-1 comprised of Teal'c, Sam, Daniel and General Jack O'Neill. The four immediately opened fire, having been 'ringed' aboard by a Tok'ra 'Jaffa' who had stumbled across Chemosh's fleet heading towards Earth and made haste to infiltrate the unknown System Lord's army.
The Tok'Ra had found out Chemosh's plan to destroy Earth whilst luring SG-1 into a fatal ambush by virtue of fake intelligence about a nebulous 'great danger'. Not believing Chemosh to be too terrible a threat, the Tok'Ra operative Usath/Rimak had still been aware that Chemosh blundering about like an enraged bull could cause a lot of trouble given how clueless the Goa'uld was regarding current galactic events. The operative had been able to warn the rest of the Tok'Ra; some had hastened to the world Chemosh had chosen and were waiting when SG-1, having been warned of a 'threat to Earth' on the planet they'd initially 'gated to, arrived to investigate the situation.
Used to millennia of slavish adoration by his Jaffa and killing all other symbiotes upon maturity meant the idea of betrayal never even occurred to Chemosh and his internal security systems had been virtually non-existent. Greatly surprised to be met by the Tok'Ra and warned about a Goa'uld instead of the Ori as they exited the Stargate, SG-1 had had little trouble defeating Chemosh's small contingent of Jaffa left in ambush or getting about the second Mothership with the help of the Tok'Ra operative already aboard.
Chemosh had spent millennia training his Jaffa in what had been the most up-to-date battle techniques then. Thousands of years of doing battle only in simulations that they always ended up winning had left the Jaffa completely unequipped physically or psychologically to face an enemy that fought back and who could make you die for real. Chemosh, though he didn't realise it, possessed a vast army of 'warriors' who looked stupendous but who had all the genuine fighting skills of last week's lettuce. None of them were able to cope with any deviation from the expected battle plan, think on their feet, or perhaps more importantly, use individual initiative to take charge and redirect focus.
Having to abruptly raise defensive shields against his own companion Mothership had thwarted Chemosh's ability to fire at the surface and he had howled with fury as the few Jaffa there fell in seconds and SG-1 took over the second Mothership's bridge. Unaware that every unfolding moment was still being broadcast heartbeat by heartbeat to their world entire, SG-1 had simply set about doing what they did best: beating the bad guys…in style.
On the ground Queen Elizabeth II had simply called out an order for the entire Armed Forces of Britain & the Commonwealth to launch an immediate assault on Chemosh's forces, the media cameras transmitting her command around the globe. The HMS Ark Royal aircraft carrier and HMS Victory, both at dock on the Thames, had promptly launched missiles and fighters at the Motherships, followed within thirty minutes by almost every fighter plane in the British Isles converging over London like Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds on a gigantic scale. Meanwhile, Sam Carter had blasted away with the captured Mothership's weapons the instant Chemosh dropped his own shields to allow the death gliders to engage the approaching British fighters and scored critical hits that had drowned the Goa'uld's shrieked imprecations.
At the time same, U.S. President Hayes' hastily transmitted personal command had had the USS Nimitz and USS Enterprise aircraft carriers, in the vicinity of the English Channel, launching their own fighters; the Russians, French, Germans and Scandinavians following suit, followed in turn by the Chinese, Japanese, Australians, Canadians and anyone who had an Air Force.
While the death-gliders had superior fire-power and denser material construction, the F18s and F22s had vastly greater manoeuvrability. Lt Colonel Cameron Mitchell and his squadrons of F302s, 303s and even a couple of F304s had arrived to show how it was done; with Mitchell commanding the airborne forces and giving everyone a lesson in 'Fighting Goa'uld 101' literally on the fly, all the pilots grasped that if two ordinary fighters fired simultaneously the missiles had enough 'oomph' to penetrate the death-glider's shields, which lacked the power of a Mothership's defensive shielding.
While the three Motherships had operational defence shields, the all-out assault from the ground and the battle to regain his usurped Mothership distracted a woefully unprepared Chemosh in two directions, while the arrival of General George Hammond and Colonel Pendergast aboard the Prometheus had forced the third into its own firefight.
All the while, the world had watched SG-1 both hold the beleaguered bridge of the second Mothership against great odds and use the Mothership's weapons against the other two and the death-gliders in a desperate battle to 'destroy first' before Chemosh's flagship destroyed their Mothership. Chemosh had believed the trap he set for SG-1 on the world they gated to worked, courtesy of a false report from Usath/Rimak, the Tok'ra Jaffa who had infiltrated his fleet. In this belief, Chemosh had thus proceeded to gamble upon throwing everything he had at Earth with the purpose of annihilating all Tau'ri resistance with the power of his Jaffa army; once so committed, he could not take the usual Goa'uld M.O. of abandoning his armies and hiding out, as this time he would be hunted down and destroyed.
Chemosh and his flagship suddenly exploded in a blast of superheated metal and painfully bright light seconds after the Prometheus despatched the third Mothership in the same fashion; the worldwide watchers dropped shielding arms from watering eyes to look at the events unfolding on the wrecked bridge of the second and now solely remaining Mothership.
Not knowing of her six billion strong audience, Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter had pressed the Con controls desperately and turned to General O'Neill: "Sir, Chemosh booby-trapped the Motherships each with a naqahdriah bomb. He didn't have time to arm them on the other two Motherships, but the bomb aboard this one is activated and counting down. If it detonates there'll be ninety-percent spatial –"
"Carter, Cliff Notes!" barked O'Neill as he concentrated on preventing the Mothership's complement of Jaffa, unaware their master was dead, from forcing their way into the bridge.
"Sir, the bomb would destroy most of Europe but this ship has enough power to contain the blast if we redirect the power output back inwards to form a force bubble around the device," Carter uttered in one non-pausing breath.
"And the coup de but is…?" O'Neill shot back over his shoulder.
"There will be no power left for us to utilise any other systems," Teal'c intoned, his serious face showing no emotion.
Sam Carter had nodded. "From the moment I divert power we'll have no shields or weapons or life support…or ability to use the transportation rings even if we could fight our way through the Jaffa to get to them. We also won't have any power to decelerate as the Mothership descends - I can safely divert enough power to throw a small protection shield around the bridge itself, but that's all."
"What's the danger to Earth?" Daniel Jackson had asked as calmly as if enquiring about the possibility of rain the next day, even as he fired an MP5 in controlled bursts at the frenzied Jaffa trying to get in through the narrow but increasingly wide gap they had forced in the bridge doors.
"None, our trajectory will take us into the Atlantic and the Mothership will mostly break apart and burn up safely in the atmosphere – nothing more than a pretty light show. The bridge's force field will keep us safe in a protective 'bubble' and prevent any damage." She took a deep breath, "But we'll end up on the Atlantic seabed at way below crush depth. If the air runs out first, we'll asphyxiate. If the force field collapses first, we'll be crushed. Not even Asgard transport beams will work at those depths."
Jack O'Neill said nothing for a beat, then, "How much of Europe buys it if Chemosh's little party pooper goes boom?"
"All of it," Samantha Carter said softly, "plus the British Isles, most of Eastern Russia, Iceland and Greenland. Basically, New Zealand is a really good place to be right now."
"Divert the power," O'Neill had ordered as casually as if asking for a cup of coffee; in later years, most of the documentaries had psychobabblers commenting and expounding on the casual sangfroid of four people who were 'so blatantly unsurprised at being in a situation where they would die saving the world it was clear such situations had, to them, become perilously close to routine'.
Colonel Carter had obeyed the injunction and almost instantly the Mothership had seemed to scream as the tremendous atmospheric forces began to pull it in a dozen directions simultaneously. Within minutes hordes of death-gliders launched as the Jaffa frantically abandoned the doomed Mothership disintegrating around them, adding to the menace facing those on the ground. The faster Earth fighter planes were winning, but each fighter required two missiles for one death-glider and more and more F-16s and F-18s were being forced to retreat and land as they ran out of weapons and their ships' gun batteries became exhausted.
Six billion pairs of eyes watched transfixed as Carter moved away from the bridge controls to stand at the bridge's traditional triangular-shaped, window-like main view-screen and actually smiled down at the approaching sapphire expanse of the 'Blue Planet'. No longer required to prevent entry into the bridge by the Jaffa, the three men had sauntered across to join her as coolly as if they were on a picnic in the park; no heroic speeches, no tears, no high drama. It would come to be one of the defining moments of visual media: the image of four people moving to stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, calmly contemplating the view as the ocean's surface loomed ever larger with the ship ripping itself apart around them.
A single, very battered and actually smoking Goa'uld Alkesh shuttle had shot past the Prometheus like a bullet, gaining inexorably on the Mothership. A pallid and bruised-faced woman incongruously garbed in studs and leather like a cheap-rate sadomasochistic porn actress called out to Daniel.
"Vala?" Daniel Jackson's startled, hopeful voice had echoed on a thousand subsequent programmes. "How did you get here? What happened to you?"
"Do you want me to see if I can get close enough for you to use the rings on my Alkesh to come aboard?" Vala had snapped, "Or do you really want to spend your impending messy death in idle chatter about how my day has been total kek'hak so far?"
"Okay, door number one," Daniel appeased instantly.
"It could work!" Carter had declared, "But we'll have to shut down the shield around the bridge. We'll only have a second to transfer to the Alkesh!"
"My men have always said my timing was impeccable – ah!"
"Vala!"
That cry from four throats had echoed around the globe.
Jaffa death-gliders had fired at the shuttle despite desperate attempts by Cameron Mitchell and his planes to distract them. Vala was directly above the bridge of the Mothership, now the sole remnant existing literally in a bubble, matching her speed to the plunging object, but in order to use the rings she would have to drop her own shields for several minutes, and the Jaffa simply would not miss at such close range.
"Vala, forget it!" Jack O'Neill had ordered, SG-1 able to see the death-gliders swarming like molested bees. "Get clear!"
A huge ship, massive in scale, gleaming and bright, appeared through thunderous storm clouds. Many of those watching had gaped as they saw the bridge of this ship, with a Roswell Grey seated in the command chair. "Jaffa of the Goa'uld Chemosh," the words had resounded, though softly spoken. "I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet, aboard the O'Neill Class Flagship the Daniel Jackson. The former Jaffa known as Teal'c who is a member of SG-1, no longer requires a larval Goa'uld to live. His immune system functions by means of a chemical known as Tretonin. All Jaffa in this galaxy are now free and self-determining. All Jaffa who surrender immediately to the Tau'ri will be given a lifetime supply of Tretonin and have the larval Goa'uld they carry removed. No Jaffa need ever be enslaved by the Goa'uld again. I repeat, all Jaffa who surrender immediately will be released from enslavement to Goa'uld symbiotes."
It was the stuff of epic drama: over ninety percent of the Jaffa had immediately ceased firing, and they had turned and obliterated the few who resisted. Other Asgard ships had appeared over London as the now surrendering death-gliders began to land surrounded by fighter planes. They began identifying themselves, ostensibly to the Jaffa, piggy-backing their transmissions onto Chemosh's relay as they were aware of the need to prevent any of the Earth forces firing on them because they didn't know which side they were coming to reinforce: Vice-Supreme Commander Freya aboard the O'Neill Class warship Samantha Carter, High Commander Peneghal of the O'Neill Class warship Teal'c, Commander Baldur of the Valhalla and Commander Garwun of the Ragnarok, both Valkyrie-class warships.
At that point, SG-1 had been more involved in staying alive. The instant the Jaffa were no longer a threat, Vala Mal Doran had dropped the Alkesh shields and prepared to activate the rings. Huddling together in the middle of the bridge, Sam had set the shield to collapse after a three-second delay and then jumped back into the group. The rings had dropped around them the instant the shield collapsed and they disappeared a hundredth of a second before the now unprotected bridge section struck the surface of the Atlantic and hurtled down until it was crushed into annihilation by the pressures. The world had seen Vala's Alkesh set down on the broad expanse of London's Mall and the doors open for all five occupants to be greeted by an awestruck silence that lasted until after Special Branch had whisked them inside the palace where the queen, injured by a blast from a death-glider, was being treated.
Continued in Chapter 3…
© 2005, C. D. Stewart