My goodness, this story is going by fast. I can't believe chapter four is already here. Who knew that this story could keep my attention long enough? Who would dream that someone would actually read this? Are you tired of useless questions? Well, so am I! Sorry for the drabble.
Important information: Now that I'm starting the SG-1 side of the story, I have to start dealing with problems of when to set it in the series. Well, here goes:
This story takes place sometime after Daniel de-ascends, but before General Hammond leaves SG-1. Also, since I like the character, I'm keeping Doctor Fraiser alive. She's one of my favorite characters, and if this messes up the timeline, well, too bad! Here we go, Chapter 4…
By the way, I own none of the characters used in this story, their respective companies own them. Darn it. Stupid .com bubble burst. Anyway, here we go, chapter four.
Colonel Jack O'Neill was in bliss, his head resting on the soft pillow. It wasn't often that he was able to get a full eight hours of sleep, and he intended not to be conscious for all of it. All he had to do was to stop moving, let the exhaustion take over, let himself fall into dreamland…
"Colonel O'Neill," The intercom on the wall crackled, dastardly bringing him back to the land of the awake.
Jack rolled away from the evil intercom, attempting to ignore the voices calling him back to duty.
"Colonel O'Neill…" the intercom said again, intent on winning this battle of wits.
Jack countered by covering his head with the pillow, getting the upper hand with his ability to move, something the intercom did not posses.
But the vile communication apparatus would have none of it, parrying O'Neill's maneuver with one of its own. "Colonel O'Neill, please respond," it said even louder, piercing the sonic protection of the down pillow.
The colonel grunted and rolled over, eventually staring at the belt on the floor. He wondered if he still had his sidearm with him, but, no, he had already checked it into the armory when he got back from off-world.
Jack sighed, staring at the intercom. One day, the intercom would fall.
A deep yawn had surrounded his face, and he covered his mouth, not wishing to be rude to the passerby. Jack was told, by the airman on the intercom, that General
Hammond had called a meeting that SG-1 was to attend, and he would be told was the purpose of the meeting was when he arrived in the conference room. Normally, the general was not as mysterious as this when it came to meetings, but when he was, he usually had a good reason.
Now, Colonel O'Neill could think of three good reasons why Hammond wouldn't want someone else to know why he was meeting with SG-1. One: it could deal with a development concerning a mission O'Neill's team went on that was later deeply classified for some reason, there certainly are a bunch of those to look back on. Two: there might be a possible foothold situation, and SG-1 might be the only team the general could trust at the moment. Three, and this was definitely not the colonel's favorite: the NID might be involved. Jack clenched his fist as he walked; trying to suppress is anger. Everybody knew of his hated of the NID. Well, maybe "hated" is too strong a word, more like a vehement dislike for the NID, including everything they do, and everyone who works for them.
Fifteen minutes and a quick cup of coffee later, Jack finally entered the conference room, and he could see that his team had already taken their prospective places at the table. Samantha Cater was busy flipping through papers in the file she brought with her, probably performing head calculations on the formulas in front of her. Daniel Jackson also brought a folder with him, but he was scribbling furiously on a notepad; Jack often thought that the man was a living Rosetta stone. Teal'c was sitting silently in his chair, staring out into space, complacent with his own thoughts. He was also the first to react to Jack's presence.
"O'Neill," he stated, bringing the others out of their self-imposed mental exile.
"Oh, hey, didn't hear you come in," Cater said, shuffling papers back into her folder.
Daniel was doing the same, "Yeah, you kinda crept up on us," he added.
"It's good to see you're finally here," General Hammond said as he walked through his office door.
"Well, you know, sir, it's not like I had anything else to do, like sleeping, for instance," Jack responded, sipping the last of his coffee.
"Let's get started, shall we?" Hammond changed the subject, "I'm sure you're all wondering why I brought you here." He moved to the end of the table, picked up a small gray remote, and pointed it at the large television screen facing them. "The images I am about to show you were taken six hours ago from a deep space monitoring station in Alaska," and with a press on the remote, the general brought up the images in question.
A star field appeared in their view, low detailed by SG-1's standards. Text was visible in the lower right corner, stating when the image was taken, where above the Earth the image was taken, and who took the image. But the focus of the image was clear, for right in the center, was a starship. The ship had a dark hue to it, and if it wasn't for the green glow of its engines, it could have easily blended into space. Its overall shape was that of a dart, whether this was for atmospheric flight or for speed was unknown. Hammond cycled to another image, but the ship was in relatively in the same position, only drifting slightly. The general went through more pictures, with the craft moving slightly each time, until he stopped at an image which showed the mystery ship, but also had a strange object close to it, almost like a blob, just slightly out of focus. In the next image, it was clear what the blob was.
"A cloaked scout ship," Daniel said, fascinated by this turn of events, "Are any To'kra operating in the area?"
"I don't think so," Sam answered, "But I'll check the local mission list they gave us."
"Actually, we don't think the ship belongs to the To'kra," General Hammond added.
"Then whose ship is it?" Daniel asked.
"Just Watch," the general replied.
He tapped the remote once again, and another image appeared on the screen. The scout vessel and the mystery ship were still there, but a bright flash of light appeared between them, as if it had been willed into existence.
"Weapons fire…" Cater said, confused by the new development.
Another image was brought up. The mystery ship's nose was heavily damaged, and it was moving under the scout ship, most likely attempting to escape. But the scout ship had turned and followed the other craft's descent. In the next image, the mysterious ship's midsection was in the process of an explosion, the damage from another blast from the scout ship. Cycling through another image, it appeared that the scout ship had its attention else where, for its nose was no longer pointed at the mystery vessel. In another image, a bright light had appeared under the scout ship, a ring transporter being used. And in the last image, the ship was in the process of re-cloaking, the battle complete.
"But that's not all we have though," Hammond said, "We also picked up two radio communications from one of our long-range communication satellites. The first was a basic distress signal, but the second one is the one I want you all to hear." He pressed a button on the remote, and the audio file played:
"Thanks for responding to the beacon, ran into a little nebula trouble on the way here. Say, if you could tow us to the nearest ship repair depot, we would gladly pay you for your trouble."
"They were asking for help," Daniel exclaimed, "They were asking for help, and the scout ship fired at them!"
"But who would attack a defenseless ship like that?" Cater said, stunned.
"The NID," Jack spat, as if it were a curse word, "This falls right under their 'protect Earth at any cost" routine."
"I agree," Teal'c add, "This course of action is characteristic of the group."
"That's what we think too," Hammond said, "But this time, they messed up. Whatever they took aboard their ship is emitting an unusual power signature that's been bleeding through their cloak. And with the Prometheus's advanced sensors, we've been able to track them to a warehouse in Colorado Springs."
"So we go there and recover whatever they may have taken from that other ship." Jack said, ready to roll.
"Or whoever," Daniel added, "There's still the possibility that pilot of that ship is still alive."
"Right, or whoever," O'Neill parroted, "So, General, when do we leave?"
Hammond smiled to himself; Jack could be so predictable sometimes. "SG-1 and SG-3 leaves for Colorado Springs in thirty minutes. The NID's gotten too confident and made a mistake, it's time that we capitalize on it."