Potential

by Texan

What happens when SG1, with resident Immortals, meet up with the Battlestar Galactica? A war that could span the universe

8. Persistence, Pt 4

Persistence

Part 3 of the Potentials Series

Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible.

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Part 4

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The Halsey was once again in a void of nothingness. Everywhere there was white light, but nothing visible on sensors or to the naked eye could determine the source of the light. Around the Halsey, crews went about conducting routine maintenance. The Forge deck was busily churning out munitions to replace those that had been expended in the last universe.

On deck eight, a batch of pilots was undergoing advanced training in the simulators on the holodeck. It was to this place that Carmen Ibañez was brought to, to undergo basic flight training in Major Carter's holographic simulators.

"Pilot Ibañez. That sounds wrong. Do you have a rank?"

"Lieutenant, ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am'. It makes me feel old. Try Major instead."

"Yes Major."

"Ok then. The first simulator we're going to put you into is that of our F-302 Mustang fighters. These are space superiority fighters armed with plasma-based lasers and six missiles, three per wing. The F-302 is capable of a limited hyperspace jump which when you are facing extreme odds, can mean the difference between life and death. Using a hyperspatial jump, you can put enough distance between you and your opponents such that escape becomes easier. The most you can jump is approximately five light minutes in one go. That will give you enough of an advantage to retreat to fight another day. The simulator will start you off against Goa'uld Udajeet type fighters. Once you can hold your own against them, I'll make it harder."

"Harder? You mean you're starting me off with the easy stuff?"

"Yes. Standard procedure."

"Start me off at the highest level, Major. Let me show you I can perform at that level."

"Very well. Your funeral."

Carmen entered the simulator and put on the communications gear. The rear controls were slaved to her own up front, so she could control the plane and fight as well. The controls proved somewhat intuitive to her and after a bit of flying alone, she felt she was ready for the enemy. Major Carter saw this and re-armed Carmen's fighter, and re-set the fuel levels to full indications.

The first thing Carmen saw was an even half dozen pyramid-type ships. Her fighter was part of a flight of eighteen F-302 fighters, though the other seventeen ships were computer generated. The AI systems aboard were equivalent to poorly trained Jaffa.

As she maneuvered her fighter to make a strafing run, Major Carter was joined in the simulator control room by Colonel Starbuck and Teal'c.

"Major. Is this our new hotshot pilot?"

"She is. She thought the initial level was too weak for her talents. So I loaded up the 302 exam program. But instead of loading the ship killer missiles on her fighter, I loaded them on one in her flight. As you know, this particular mission is used to prep our flight leads. So far, she's behaving as if she's the only one out there. She's not covering her wingmen, and she's far too reckless with her fighter."

"She has no style, no technique. But there is raw talent within her. The Ancient would not have recommended her if there was no talent."

"That's true Teal'c. You think she can be trained to fly and fight?"

"I believe this is possible."

"I think she can hack it, Major. Between Teal'c and myself, we can turn out one hell of a pilot. The ranks of pilots we've already trained are proof of that. But we're going to have to break her of a few bad habits first."

"Good luck gentlemen. I think you're gonna need it."

In the simulator, Lieutenant Ibañez was in trouble. Her flight had been shot down and she was alone against insurmountable odds. She had fired off all of her missiles without getting decent targeting locks first, much to her chagrin. She was firing her lasers so much that they were dangerously close to overheating, and when that happened, she would be defenseless. Her finger was locked on the trigger and she was flying like a drunkard. She had what some people called 'buck fever'. She also had what some might refer to as tunnel vision. She had eyes only for the fighter twisting and turning to get away from her constant stream of fire, and was unaware of the large mass of fighters sitting calmly on her six. She was blissfully unaware until her fighter started to come apart under the concentrated fire of the fighters behind her. An instant later, she was standing in a room criss-crossed with glowing yellow lines set against a black background.

"I find her raw talent quite agreeable, Colonel Starbuck. She has much potential to be a decent pilot. But if she continues as she is, the only thing she will accomplish is an early and premature death."

"While I wouldn't have put it quite like that, my big friend, I'd have to say I agree with you. She wouldn't last two microns against the Cylons."

"Where did Major Carter go off to?"

"She has other duties to attend to. You, on the other hand, have classes to begin."

"Classes?"

"I will give you instruction in basic flight tactics. Colonel Starbuck will give you the advanced lessons. We will begin at 0800 hours tomorrow. Rest well."

In a separate, but smaller holodeck, Alex was standing with Rico and Flores, going over a basic introduction to Alliance weaponry for the upcoming battle simulation he was giving them. To better test their abilities, he'd said to them.

"Mr. Rico. Ms. Flores. Allow me to introduce you to the standard weapons of the ground forces of the Alliance. Most of our troopers use the P-90. It is a projectile weapon, not unlike the ones common to your Terran Federation. It is fed by a fifty round magazine which is loaded horizontally across the top of the weapon. The spent cases are ejected out the bottom of the grip in the stock. The next projectile weapon is a handgun, useful for close quarters combat. It is fed from a double stack eighteen round magazine and can fire in either single shot or three round mode.

"Next on the list is something we picked up a few universes ago. The locals there called it a PPG, or Pulsed Plasma Gun. It comes in both handgun and rifle configurations and is fed by what is called a helium capsule, or cap. The weapon supercharges a packet of helium transforming it into a packet of helium plasma, which can burn through a target if the target is hit repeatedly. However, because such a small amount of plasma is ejected from the weapon, one shot is not fatal. Multiple shots can also be survivable. It will all depend on how resilient a target you are attempting to take down.

"From another universe, we picked up these very nice next set of weapons. They also had a Federation, based on Earth. Their 'empire', for lack of a better word, stretches across over ten thousand light years, with over a thousand member worlds, and hundreds of colonies. Needless to say, the enemy they faced was an empire that made theirs look like yours.

"First is what they called a phaser pistol. It comes in a number of forms, ranging from a handheld unit shaped like a cracker, to something that looks more like an upside down 'L', to a compressed phaser rifle. All of these weapons have a variable setting, ranging from stun to kill to vaporize. The nice thing is, if you find yourself trapped somewhere, where it's either raining or snowing, you can set your phaser to stun, and shoot it at a rock. The rock will glow with radiant energy and keep you warm.

"You will find that the enemies in the simulation will use some variations of the weapons I've gone over here. The simulation is a standard training operation that all of our troopers have gone through at some point. Let's go over your objectives. Then you can examine what intelligence we have, and plan your assault. Your first objective is to approach the target covertly. If the enemy spots you, it's all over. Next you have to enter the enemy structure and find their computer core. In order for this mission to succeed, you'll have to download a copy of that computer core, without being discovered. Your last objective is to get back to the Stargate and get off the planet.

"You will be ringed down to the planet by a cloaked Al'kesh. The cargo hold of the Al'kesh will have all the gear you could possibly need. You will face a combination of Jaffa and Cylon warriors. Here's one free hint for you. Cylons that are golden in color are usually leadership caste. Any questions?"

"None sir!"

"Now, are you ready to begin the simulation?"

"We're ready, sir!"

"Alright then. Step through that door there, and you'll find yourself aboard the Al'kesh. The ring in the center of the cargo hold is where you need to stand. Within the ring, that is. Good luck."

Rico and Flores stepped through the door to find themselves standing within a very spacious cargo hold. There were weapon and equipment lockers along the walls of the hold. Rico went up to a locker labeled clothing and took a look. After a glance at Dizzy, both of them stripped down and put on the digitally enhanced camouflage uniforms. The next locker held all manner of web gear and backpacks, ranging from day packs to expedition type packs. Each of them selected one that would enable them to carry a single day's worth of supplies. Then they turned to the weapons lockers. Each of them drew phase pistols and put them in the appropriate holsters. Flores drew a P-90 and twelve magazines. Rico tried the PPG rifle and stuffed fifty caps into his front pockets. Each of them drew eight fragmentation grenades and clipped them to the fronts of their vests.

Though Alex had given them enough information to find their way around the equipment lockers, and to select a decent load out, he hadn't told them everything. He'd neglected to mention what the round balls that Rico was looking at were. He'd neglected to tell them what a zat gun or staff weapon were capable of. He didn't tell them about the portable shield generators, or the Dominion cloaking technology. He wanted to see what they were capable of. He wanted to test their ability to adapt to strange and adverse situations. In short, he wanted to see how much un-teaching he was going to have to go through before turning out two well trained soldiers. Course, when one considered that Alex had not told them how to use a Stargate, or how to recognize a Goa'uld computer core, it was clearly evident that the mission was doomed to failure. But they'd had a chance to ask questions, and hadn't availed themselves of that opportunity.

"You ready Diz?"

"Ready as I'll ever be Johnny."

The two of them stood in the middle of the ring inscribed into the center of the hold and nearly jumped a foot into the air as the rings leapt up around them. A flash of light and a new set of rings found them inside a small cave. The rings dropped back into the ground, and there was no way to tell where they were.

The walls of the cave had some sort of luminescent algae, so it wasn't pitch black in the cave. Though Rico wished for a moment for some night vision gear. But only for a moment as they left the inner part of the cave and saw bright daylight beckoning to them from the entrance. The two of them moved as stealthily as possible, but without knowing the full extent of enemy troop disposition, it would be a near impossibility to find the target building without running across a patrol or two.

The cave was becoming a distant memory in their minds, along with the near misses with the two dozen patrols they nearly stumbled on. A mixture of foot and air patrols were everywhere on this planet, but the thick growth of the forest around them helped them. Suddenly, Rico dropped to his stomach as he breached the top of a small rise in the terrain. Flores dropped alongside him and both stared with something akin to awe at the massive structure that lay before them.

It was a pyramid. More massive in sheer size than what he remembered of the Khufu pyramid in his Egypt. It took his breath away. Dizzy looked at Rico for a moment before she spoke.

"So, Rico, how in the hell are we supposed to get in there?"

"I was thinking maybe a diversion, but there's just so many of them. Any ideas Diz?"

"I don't think there's any way we can accomplish the mission. Uhm, Rico? Alex said something about leaving via Stargate. So, ah, what's a Stargate?"

"I think you're right. I think we're screwed. What say we take as many of them as we can before they take us?"

"Go charging in? Or stay here on the high ground and bring them to us?"

"High ground, I think."

"High ground it is."

They were preparing to dig in when the ground disappeared to be replaced by criss-crossed yellow lines on a black background.

"The simulation is over. Had you continued with your plan, a follow-up raid would have been launched to rescue you from the prison cells you would have ended up in, and to complete your original mission. However, with the enemy now expecting us to attack, the odds on success of a follow-on mission would have been low."

"Why rescue us? Why risk it?"

"We don't leave anyone behind. The simulation you just took part in is considered the graduation exercise for our troopers. You'll see that one again in maybe three months. A new class has just started and you will join that class. I will be one of the instructors, along with Colonel O'Neill, Commander Pierson, and Teal'c among others. You're dismissed for now. Report back here for your first class at 0800 tomorrow."

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The Halsey was still in the nothing dimension, that way station between universes where Tok'Ra allowed them to rest up before jumping to their next destination. Systems in dire need of maintenance had been brought back to full operational status. The last universe they'd been in had only stressed the flight crews and aircraft, but not the major offensive weapons of the ship. But even those had undergone their routine maintenance per schedule.

And where was Marco? Where any good Admiral should be. In his office, completing yet more paperwork. Even though most of the Halsey was fully computerized, even though the Ferengi and the Federation had installed numerous upgrades that moved them to a ninety-nine percent paper free environment, there were still computerized reports that needed his approval. So when the knock came at his door, he was grateful to whomever it was that was 'interrupting' his work. Eternally grateful.

"Come!"

"Good morning, Admiral. I have that report you asked for."

"Oh? Which report might that be, Commander Roberts?"

"The promotions list you asked Bud and I to work on."

"Ah. The good list. Excellent! What about award recommendations?"

"Also here sir."

"Very good. This makes my day a whole lot brighter, Commander. Any other good news for me?"

"Actually sir, there is. Bud and I wanted you to be the first to know, that we're expecting a child in a little less than eight months from now."

"Congratulations Harriet! I'm sure the child will be strong and wise. I wonder how many others will be conceived on this voyage of ours?"

"Doctor Scully told me this was the first one."

"Hopefully, Commander, your child will not be the last. We have one more task to perform for Tok'Ra, and then we can go home. Tell me the truth, Harriet. Do you want your child to be born in space, or at home in Virginia?"

"Just so long as our child has all ten fingers and all ten toes, and just so long as everything works the way it's supposed to, then it doesn't matter to me where our child is born. But, I think Bud wants it born here on the Halsey. He's like that, Admiral."

"I could tell. Thank you Commander. I'll go over the list before lunch and get it back to your team for appropriate follow-up action."

"Of course, Admiral."

It was a long list, but Marco managed to get through the promotions list before lunch. He would tackle the award recommendations after a good meal. There were quite a number of names he recognized on the list for promotion. Alex Phillipson had been recommended for promotion to Captain by his peers. He deserved that after all the work he'd done to get his strike team through so many missions in one piece. Alex had recommended the members of his unit for promotions as well. Captain Phillipson would soon have a strike team composed almost entirely of Sergeants of one rank or another.

Some of the Bridge officers under his command were also on the list, at his and others recommendations. Lieutenant Jameson was on the list for lieutenant commander. The helm officer, Ensign Rivera, was also on the list for lieutenant. It was a shame he couldn't promote the Anla'shok they'd taken on as part of the crew before the left Babylon 5. The Ranger crews of the two WhiteStar cruisers had performed above and beyond the call of duty during their battles with the Borg. He couldn't promote them, but he damned sure could give them medals. And maybe something more? He have to check to see if a gift was possible. In fact, the more he looked at the two lists before him, the more he saw that the majority of the promotions and awards earned had been during the Borg campaign. Two and a half years, fighting an enemy that wanted to take them over, quite literally take them over. Before that, about three months at Babylon 5, and after the Borg, less than two weeks in that fascist Terran Federation space. It was hard for him to imagine an Earth where the reigning government was a Fascist one. He'd thought for a moment that the Starfleeters were somewhat fascist. But in light of what he'd seen in that last universe, the Starfleeters were more pacifistic than fascistic.

But in retrospect, the universe of Starfleet and their United Federation was closer to Paradise than anything he'd seen in his travels, but even their Paradise had its snakes. He'd seen three universes that were different from his own, but there was one thing that was the same in all of those places. The battle between Good and Evil was ever present.

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Primary Mess Hall

AIS Halsey

"Admiral's on the deck!"

"At ease. Ladies and gentlemen, one of the proudest and happiest duties that I have performed in my centuries of life is the awarding of citations and the promotion to higher rank to those deserving of such. We started our journey some three years ago. Our original mission was to test the systems aboard the Halsey to the best of our ability. As a sort of compromise, I was selected to serve as her first Admiral. I think that was done more for the reason that my team and I designed this great vessel, but my opinion and a couple of dollars might buy y'all one of those Klingon Raktajeenos that have become quite popular on this ship. But that's beside the point. It gives me great pleasure to announce the following promotions.

"Lieutenant Geoffrey Jameson. For attention to duty in the face of battle, for keeping the Halsey running efficiently, and for being one hell of a watch officer, you are promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander in the Alliance Navy, pursuant to approval by the Alliance Council. Ensign Vittorio Rivera, for actions during the battle to defend Babylon 5 and for actions during the Borg campaign, promotion to Lieutenant."

The list went on and on for a bit over an hour. Promotions made to various personnel for their actions during combat and not. But before it was over, there were a few left to give out.

"Lieutenant Alexander Phillipson. It is the judgment of your peers and of your team that you have performed so far above and beyond the call of duty that you be raised in rank to Captain. For uncommon valor during the ground battles of System J25, I present you with the Alliance Star for Heroism, and the Alliance Dagger of Exemplary Service. For uncommon courage in the face of overwhelming odds during the siege of the Beta Quadrant Primary Nexus, two Clusters for your Heroism Star, and the Alliance Sash of Distinguished Service. And for tactical cunning for your part in leading a prong of the final assault against the Borg, the Alliance Staff of Valor. Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Alexander Phillipson!"

After the applause died down a bit, Marius called their attention for one more presentation.

"Shai Alyt Teraan. You have lead your crews well. Were you to be a member of the Alliance, I would recommend your promotion to Admiral. But you are not and I regret that I can not do this. For actions above and beyond the call of duty during the Borg campaign, for charging your ship at the enemy, though your ship was badly damaged, I award to you and your crew, the Alliance Star for Heroism. Though you, Shai Alyt Teraan, were grievously wounded in the battle of the First World, you still held on to your command and helped turn the tide in our favor. For this action, I award you the Alliance Sash of Distinguished Service.

"Shai Alyt Teraan. I have asked our Forge officers to prepare a special gift for you. When our journey home is complete, you will be granted leave to return home to Minbar and to the Army of Light. Though your two WhiteStars will remain here, you will be given a new ship with which to make the journey. The Forge deck will be busily churning out one Defiant-class heavy escort for your usage. I asked them to enlarge the standard model so that a few extras will be available for you in your fight against those you call Shadows. In addition to jump engines with which you are so familiar, we have included our hyperspace window generators, hyperlaunch drives, and warp engines. The races in your universe do not have matter teleportation, but we have included Asgard, Ancient, and Starfleet matter transportation devices. The weapons suites are those that you have become familiar with; type XII phaser cannons and phase shifting torpedoes. All this, plus room for one hundred ground troopers, will make the vessel you go home in a most formidable one. I trust that you will use the ship wisely.

"Your race, the Minbari, have for millennia looked upon the Vorlons as your guides. Once upon a time, eons ago, the Vorlons and the Shadows, looked upon the Ancients as guides, as teachers. Perhaps in time, the younger races of your universe, will look upon you in the same way. The gift we give you today, in honor of the sacrifices you and your crews have made, can be used for good or ill. I, for one, pray that you use it for the good of all. Use it to help you stand on the bridge, where none may pass."

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Marco was back in his office, this time not looking at paperwork, but just sitting there. Staring at his desktop.

"Marius. Something troubles you?"

"Hello Tok'Ra. No, it's nothing major. I just wonder what has been happening at home while we've been traipsing through the multi-verse fixing things you and your kind should have fixed long ago."

"If it's any consolation, when you have completed your last mission for the Ancients, you will be returned to your home universe and only three months will have elapsed."

"I guess that's a good thing, yes?"

"It can be, young one. But there are many trials ahead of you and your crew. Once you return to your home, I will grant Doctor Jackson access to that which he has been seeking, a full record of the Ancients and where we went. For though your battle with the Goa'uld is still pending, there are other races, far more insidious than they. Races, which I am sad to say, very nearly defeated us, the Ancients. It forced us to do things which you would believe abhorrent in the extreme. Doctor Jackson seeks the lost city of the Ancients. I can tell you that this lost city is the Atlantis of your legends, though it is not located on Earth. Earth is our home, inasmuch as it is yours. The Ancients evolved on your world, and left it long ago, to travel to a new place. There we found an enemy that forced us to retreat back to Earth, where we began the Immortal project. And your Earth is the place from which we evolved to a higher plane of existence."

"I'm sure that Daniel will like that. Proving the existence of Atlantis will be a boon to his reputation. Then again, proving that the pyramids were far older than previously believed did not do well for his academic reputation."

"Yet he was proven correct in his theories."

"He was. One of our great philosophers wrote that change is the most difficult thing to accomplish."

"It is. But it is true simply because so many are unwilling to change. The Gathering set into motion certain events that will change the way the Tau'ri are viewed on the galactic stage. For like it or not, you are of the Tau'ri. You have lived among them for centuries. In time, you will be given the opportunity to evolve, but I would ask that you not do so. Once you do, it will become next to impossible to do more than guide the younger races. But there are many millennia to pass before you have need of that decision. Until then, as other Immortals say, watch your head, Marius."

"Thanks Tok'Ra."

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Nothingness lay before them. Nothingness lay behind them. Nothingness lay all around them. It had been an uneventful month since their last incursion into normal space. The three Terran Federation soldiers had adapted well to shipboard life. Pilot Lieutenant Ibañez had quickly mastered the intricacies of the F-302 and had advanced easily enough to the Thunderbolt fighter that was now the standard atmospheric and space borne fighter in the various squadrons. There were a few Mustang fighters left, and a few of the revised Colonial Vipers. Those fighters were very good at interception missions. They had proven themselves time and again against the Borg, a race which used capital ships exclusively. And so the Cydonia and the Tollana still used the Viper Mk III exclusively of all other fighter types, while the Ryan and the Kelowna used the F-302 Mustang. But the rest of the fleet had opted for the Thunderbolt, including the two Nova-dreadnoughts whose launch bays had been retrofitted to accept the Thunderbolts. The remaining F-302 fighters had long ago been returned to the Forge deck to build other fighters.

Using the captured Borg data devices, and the data libraries given or bought from the other Federation (Starfleet) races, a single squadron of modified Peregrine-class fighters had been built. Though these fighters were actually too large to be considered as such, they were being put to use as command and control vessels for the other fighter squadrons. They carried a crew of eight; a pilot and navigator, an engineer and life support officer, and four weapons systems specialists, one of which also watched over the shields of the small vessel. The Halsey fleet had been using the Danube-class scout ships as command and control units for the fighter squadrons, and to this end, the Peregrines fit in readily, freeing up the scout ships for other duties. Hardpoints were added to the Peregrines, enabling them to carry four phase shifting missiles externally, in addition to the micro-photon torpedo launchers, four of which were built into each wing, the way World War II fighters had guns mounted in their wings.

Ibañez was performing so well, according to Colonel Starbuck, that her next bit of instruction would be on the Peregrine, where she would become commander of a crew. Marius wondered how that would work, considering how head strong Carmen was. In the case of Rico and Flores, the two of them had mastered the entry level simulations, each showing a particular leadership ability. Flores could see the large strategic picture and so her training was designed to give her experience commanding a large group of ground units. Rico, on the other hand, had a gift for viewing the immediate tactical picture, and his training was designed around the leadership of a small squad of troopers.

By the time the Halsey returned to her home universe, those three would be ready to go home, to resume their fight against the Arachnids. Marius was planning on sending them home in a Defiant escort.

"Mr. Jameson. System status?"

"All systems show green across the board. We are ready to proceed sir."

"Very well, Commander. You have the conn. Take us back into the breach."

"Aye sir."

"Sensors. I want a detailed scan the moment we emerge into the clear."

"Sensor station, aye sir!"

"Weps. As soon as we make transition, I want full shields, and all weapons to yellow alert."

"Weapons station, aye sir!"

"Flight ops. Once we're in the clear, I want two squadrons on CAP, and two more on long range patrol. Launch the Brazos and the Salado for long range sensor duties."

"Flight operations, aye-aye sir!"

"Jump. Now!"

It was a transition that never ceased to amaze him. The movement without the sense of moving, from total white nothingness, to stars that reminded him of home. As per Commander Jameson's orders, Marius saw the sensor officer bring full power to the sensors at his disposal. Weapons were brought on-line and into stand-by mode. Shields went to full power. And on the flight deck, two squadrons of Thunderbolts launched quickly for the CAP, with a second pair of Thunderbolt squadrons launching soon thereafter. Colonel Starbuck made a request of the bridge to launch one Peregrine on a training sortie, and Commander Jameson granted the request. Marius knew full well that Ibañez was about to earn her command wings.

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Long range patrol squadron Red-Alpha

The patrol had passed into a new planetary system. There were some minor indications of life, but it was not humanoid life. They were at the extreme edge of their range, and preparing to turn around, when one member of the patrol picked up something.

"Red leader, Red-seven. I'm picking up weapons fire on long range scans. Intense weapons fire."

"Distance to target?"

"Approximately eight light-seconds."

"Roger that. Can you pick up anything else?"

"Starting to pick up life signs now sir. They are the extreme limit of sensor range. Showing multiple vessels. Some with human life signs, others with non-human life signs."

"Roger that. Break. Red-Alpha leader to Red-Beta leader, how copy, over?."

"Read you two-by, Red-Alpha. What have you got?"

"Looks like a furball in progress. Am vectoring to investigate. Sending you our coordinates."

"Roger. I have them here. You're too far out of our range for an assist. We are headed back to the barn to refuel. We'll join you as soon as we can."

"Roger that, Red-Beta. Break. Halsey control, Red-Alpha Leader."

"Halsey control here. We read you loud and clear Red-Alpha. Report please."

"Halsey control, we're picking up life signs, human and non-human, and what looks to be a lot of weapons fire, approximately eight light seconds from our position."

"Roger that. Stand by."

"Admiral? Any advice?"

"Send them in. And back them up."

"Ah, Red-Alpha leader. You are cleared to investigate. Return fire only if fired upon. Halsey moving to back you up. Activate your beacon so we can home in on your signal."

"Roger that, Halsey control. Moving to intercept and investigate."

"Peregrine training flight, Halsey control."

"We read you Halsey control."

"Say state."

"Full load, weps and fuel. Training crew plus instructor aboard."

"Affirmative. Proceed at once to location given by Red-Alpha Leader to render assistance. Contact Red-Alpha leader on frequency six."

"Confirmed. Peregrine moving out."

Red-Alpha patrol wasn't all that far away from the Halsey. She could make the distance traverse in five minutes. But she had to pull the CAP fighters in first. In the time it took the Halsey to do that, the Peregrine could be on station assisting the fighters. And even a little bit of additional firepower could signify the difference between victory and defeat.

Nine Thunderbolts screamed into the area occupied by one ISS APC and the 58th and 59th fighter squadrons. Three members of the 58th Wildcards were aboard the ISS APC, two as pilots and one as a gunner, trying to fight off the Chig fighters that had appeared from nowhere. Within the APC were the survivors of the Tellus and Vesta colonies, the first two colonies that Earth had attempted, and the first two locations where the Chigs had attacked.

There was a Chig representative on the Saratoga at the moment, trying to negotiate peace with the Earth representative, but a deadlock in the negotiations caused the Chig fighters to attack now. The fighters of the 59th were giving a good accounting of themselves, guiding the second ISS APC back to the Saratoga, but the 58th was having problems. The Chigs seemed to know that there were family members aboard the APC, that the Wildcards guarded so fiercely. Perhaps it was good to attack their family, and perhaps it was bad. To the Chigs, all it meant was the possible elimination of a fighter squadron that had vexed them at almost every turn.

They were the squadron that held the line at the Battle of the Belt, buying time for the fleet to arrive. They were the squadron that had defeated their best fighter pilots. They were the squadron that should have died long ago, but continued to fly and fight against odds that would have made even themselves run in fear. But Chigs understood no fear other than what the Wildcards had caused them to fear.

"Vansen! What the hell are those!"

"I have no clue. I hope they're on our side, though."

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"Seven to leader. That big boxcar with retro-rockets. I read numerous human life signs aboard. Looks like those elongated triangular shaped craft are making strafing runs at it. The other fighters read as human pilots. Looks like they're trying to defend the boxcar."

"I see it, Red-Seven. Red-Five! Check six!"

The Chig fighters had already discovered that the new fighters had humans aboard. They simply reasoned that these were a new class of human fighter craft. One of their fighters turned hard onto the tail of the new fighter and fired at it repeatedly, striking only the shield bubble and making it glow briefly.

"Lead, I'm taking fire. Request permission to give as good as I'm taking!"

"Granted. Red-Alpha flight, let's take'em out!"

The Thunderbolts moved in to the fight, firing phased plasma spears at the enemy, breaking them apart on the first pass and making the enemy regroup. Pairs of Thunderbolts moved off, double teaming the enemy fighters, for which they had no name. But there were so many of them, that without additional help from the Halsey, they thought they would be sorely pressed to fight it out, until, and much to their amazement, they saw that the enemy fighters had no shields. But they did have some sort of ablative armor that took repeated hits before they fell. It wouldn't be until after the fight that someone would realize their weapons had been set at training levels for the practice that Red-Alpha leader had wanted the squadron to get in on the way home.

In the midst of the battle, the Peregrine arrived. Colonel Starbuck saw the tactical situation at once. The Thunderbolts were dealing with the enemy fighters, but some of the enemy were still making strafing runs at the large box thing with rockets. To him, it looked like a fourth millennium cargo freighter, something the Colonies hadn't flown in at least six thousand yahrens. What better test of their mettle, he thought, than an actual battle? He let Pilot Commander Ibañez continue in command. Her reaction was both gratefulness for retaining command and swiftness into the fight.

"Shields to full. Weapons, target the enemy fighters harassing the cargo pod. I want them out of my sky!"

"Aye ma'am!"

Transporter officer, standby to pick up survivors. Medic, stand by to receive wounded."

"Aye ma'am!"

"Yes ma'am!"

While the Peregrine was a tried and true design, her crew was not. They had been together for about a month, going through various aspects of the flight training program. As a Peregrine crew, they'd been together less than four days. Ibañez sat at the pilot's station. Gone were the touch screens that the Starfleeters liked so much. They had been replaced by a throttle control and flight stick. She sat on a raised dais in the center of the small command deck of the Peregrine. Below and to her right, was the co-pilot's station, who could take over for her in the event she was incapacitated, but normally served the crew as the navigation officer. Below and to her left was one of the gunners, manning the forward looking Type VIII phasers, and the forward peripheral phaser strips, the former for tackling other fighters, the latter for defending themselves against incoming missiles or torpedoes.

Below and immediately behind her were engineering and life support stations. Behind her and to either side, were two additional gunnery stations. Either side controlled their respective Type VI phaser turret, and the strip phasers available to them. A final crew trainee sat in the last gunnery station and controlled an aft facing turret that had both a Type VIII phaser and a pair of heavy duty rail guns on either side of the turret, but which turned with the turret. Colonel Starbuck was nominally along as their instructor, but they needed no instruction. One by one, the enemy fighters fell beneath the fiery onslaught of the heavy caliber phaser fire. Though it was not the type of phasers found on a capital ship, they still stung anything they touched.

It felt like an eternity to those in combat, but before long, the enemy had been obliterated, and the remaining human fighters had stopped where they were, taking up defensive positions around their cargo vessel.

"This is Captain Shane Vansen to unidentified fighters. Identify and state your intentions."

"Captain Vansen. I am Lieutenant Mortimer of the AIS Halsey. We mean you no harm. If you have wounded, our carrier will be here momentarily."

"We do have wounded aboard. Our ship is shot to all to hell and we might have problems landing on your carrier, but the offer is appreciated."

"Roger that. Stand by. Break. Halsey control?"

"We read you loud and clear, Captain Vansen, you should see us on your scanners any second now."

"'Phousse? You see anything...uhm, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed. The Halsey had appeared in a burst of star light, and had begun launching waves of fighters. Said fighters were now taking up station keeping around the Halsey.

"Captain Vansen. Halsey here. Do you require assistance?"

"We have wounded aboard. Can you bring us aboard?"

"Aye, we can do that. Stop your engines. The Peregrine will take you under tow and bring you aboard. Medics will be standing by on the hangar deck."

"What about our fighter escort?"

"They're welcome to come aboard as well. We can ferry you to your final destination."

"Thanks for the assist Halsey. Vansen out."

"What do you suppose they meant by a tow, Shane?"

"I expect we're about to find out."

The Peregrine had maneuvered itself to a position just forward of the ISS APC. An instant after they were in position, a light beam of sorts sprang out from behind the Peregrine and grappled the APC, taking it under tow. The two remaining fighters of the 58th followed the ISS APC into the Halsey, setting down on the deck near it, but following the hand signals of the deck crews. Their cockpits came up almost in synch with one another, and they pulled their helmets off almost as one. West and Hawkes dropped to the solid ground beneath their feet and raced over to the side door of the APC. They could see white-shirted medics running up to the APC as well, some with some kind of floating gurneys, others with packs of medical gear.

The door opened, and Wang called for medics as soon as it was fully open. The wounded were mostly ambulatory, but some did require the floaters. Wang, the gunner, had numerous cuts and scrapes on his person from being tossed about the confines of the gunner's station. The two fighters were alright, as were the two pilots of the cargo vehicle, but they were the only ones. Irregardless of their physical condition or their protests to the truth thereof, they were brought to the nearest aid station to the hangar decks. The passengers of the cargo vehicle all looked malnourished and some appeared to have suffered the ill effects of interrogation, but that was the opinion of Colonel O'Neill, who happened to the be in his office above the hangar decks when the call with wounded came in. Commander Jameson had already passed along details to him, regarding the fight and the news that this was a first contact situation. He was waiting for Mulder and Daniel to join him before he made the intros, but the looks of those armed pilots made him want to rush in there before things got out of hand.

The pilots in question, with Vansen at the lead, were watching over one of their own get treated by a medic. West, another pilot, was standing by a woman on a floating gurney as she was led to a healing station, where a Tok'ra with a healing device stood by waiting to assist. Fortunately, none of the wounded aboard the cargo vessel were in need of a sarcophagus, but that was a good thing, right? Some good food, and plenty of rest, and these good folks would be on their way to wherever home is. The pilots, on the other hand, were getting antsy. He could see it in their eyes. They wanted out of the aid station.

"Major Scully? Everything alright here?"

"Colonel. Yes. Everything will be find as soon as these pilots agree to routine scans. We don't want them contaminating our own crews."

"No, we certainly don't want that. You see folks, it's like this. We don't know where you're from, and you don't know where we're from. We could have some disease your unfamiliar with and vice-versa. It's just a routine precaution. It won't hurt. I promise."

"And who the hell are you?"

"At ease Captain. I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, wing commander for the AIS Halsey."

"Sir!"

"As you were. Now, just let the Doc look you over. Then I'll take you to the bar and the first round will be on me."

"Ok. I can live with that."

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Ten minutes later

Officer's Mess

"And this is the Officer's Mess. Like I said earlier, I'm buying the first round. Now, how 'bout we get acquainted?"

"You wouldn't happen to play guitar too, would you Colonel?"

"Me? Play the guitar? Nope. Why do you ask?"

"Cause you remind us of someone we know."

"Must be a nice guy then."

"He is. I am Shane Vansen, Captain, USMC, 58th fighter squadron, assigned to the USS Saratoga."

"Nathan West, Lieutenant, USMC, 58th fighter squadron."

"Cooper Hawkes, Lieutenant, USMC, 58th."

"Vanessa Damphousse, Lieutenant, USMC, 58th."

"The other member of your squadron is still in sick bay, yes?"

"That would be Paul Wang, also a Lieutenant, and also a member of the 58th Wildcards."

"And you're all Jarheads, right?"

"Yes. And you're a Swabbie?"

"Hell no. Air Force. Though I regret to say I do have some good friends in the Corps."

"Oh great! A real honest to God fly-boy!"

"That's fly-boy, sir!"

"This is good beer sir!"

"Admiral's on deck!"

"As you were. Looks like you're making some new friends, Jack. Care to do the introductions?"

"Yeahsureyoubetcha. Captain Shane Vansen, Lieutenants Nathan West, Cooper Hawkes and Vanessa Damphousse. This is Admiral Marco Ramos, task force commander, and Captain of the Halsey."

"Pleasure to meet you all. Tell me about yourselves and your enemy?"

"Sir, I really need to check in with our carrier. We're overdue as it is."

"Of course, this way please."

Marius led them forward of the mess deck and up eight decks to the Combat Information Center beneath the Bridge. A communications officer was standing by to transmit a signal to their carrier. All they needed was the appropriate frequency.

"Captain Vansen, just tell the communications chief the frequency so we can raise your carrier."

She preferred to dial it in herself and after a few seconds instruction, she keyed in the correct frequency.

"Saratoga, Saratoga, Queen Six, how copy, over?"

"Queen Six, we read you five by five. Status of mission?"

"All POWs accounted for and undergoing treatment."

With Vansen talking, Marco motioned to the Chief of the watch to home in on the signal. He plotted the position of the ship she was communicating with at approximately twenty-three light minutes out from their current location. The location was passed to navigation which quickly plotted a course to intercept, awaiting the watch officer's word to move. The Sensor officer launched a cloaked probe to the target area, with results coming back fairly quickly. The initial scans showed several vessels, moving slowly through space, headed for the planetary system where the Halsey was currently located. Scans of the large vessel indicated it was just under two thousand feet in length and fairly well armed. But scans did not reveal the presence of any sort of shielding technology, or any sort of anti-matter, naquadah, or tylium based engine systems. It did, however, detect fusion power plants and a wormhole generator.

"...Affirmative Saratoga. We seem to have made some new friends here. Sir, I'm not familiar with First Contact protocols. I think it best that you come here sir. Ahh, one moment sir."

"Captain Vansen, we have a lock on the position of your fleet. We can be there shortly. Please ask your Fleet Commander not to fire on us."

"Commodore, our new friends here claim they have a lock on your position. They can be there in a few minutes. They ask the fleet not to fire on them when they appear."

"That is doable. We await your arrival, Queen Six."

"Affirmative, Queen Six out."

"Well, Admiral. The ball is in your court now."

"Good. Let's move this up to the Bridge."

----------------------------------------

"Admiral's on deck!"

"As you were. What's our status, Commander Jameson?"

"All boards show green sir. The ship is ready in all respects. All fighters accounted for, and all escorts docked and locked."

"Very well. I have the Conn. Navigator, is your course locked in?"

"Course locked in sir."

"Very well. Proceed."

was a short jump. The hyperspace jump engines opened a portal into hyperspace, and the ship zoomed into it. It was a little different here than it had been in the Babylon 5 universe. Instead of mostly red with traces of black, it was mostly black with traces of red and orange. The swirl patterns were captivating and mesmerizing.

"Sir, some sort of anomaly forming five hundred thousand kilometers off the starboard bow!"

"What sort of anomaly? Put it up on the screen!"

"There sir!"

What the bridge crew of the Saratoga were witnessing was the vortex of a vessel exiting hyperspace. It was a blue vortex, streaked with black and white and it seemed to form a cone facing inward to something they couldn't read. But from within the vortex a number of ships emerged. The first scans of the largest ship indicated it was at least three miles in length, dwarfing and relegating the Saratoga to the status of bathtub toy. The Saratoga, a John F. Kennedy-class carrier was the largest class of vessel the United Nations Space Forces had in space. That another race had constructed something that large spoke volumes of the technological and scientific advancements of that race. The vessel was now turning toward the fleet, and smaller ships were separating from the larger vessel.

"Saratoga, we presume?"

"Affirmative. And you are?"

"Alliance Strike Carrier Halsey, at your service. Request permission to come along side to transfer your wayward fighters and cargo vessel."

"Affirmative. You are cleared to approach to within eight thousand meters."

"Well Commodore Ross, looks like there's another player in the galactic playground. Any idea who they are?"

"Mr. Wayne, I fully realize that Aerotech has its claws in everything, but the meeting with the enemy representative should have taught you at least something!"

"And what would that be?"

"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Wayne. Life has a funny way of making it come true."

The ISS APC and its fighter escort had left the Halsey and already docked with the Saratoga, considering the two ships were so close to one another. The Saratoga had one fighter squadron in the air as a fleet CAP. The Halsey launched two squadrons of Thunderbolts to supplement that CAP. The fact that her escort cruisers had detached themselves from their mooring stations and were taking up their normal station keeping positions greatly increased the Halsey's scanning range. The show of force wasn't lost on those inside the Saratoga, especially to the Aerotech representative.

"Captain Vansen. Report!"

"Sir! Their medics tended to the wounded, and their fighters made short work of the two squadrons of Chig fighters that jumped us."

"Are they willing to meet in person?"

"They are sir. They asked me to contact them when I'm in a conference room, though I'm not entirely sure why."

"Let's go to the main conference room then, and contact them."

----------------------------------------

"Halsey. Captain Vansen here. I'm in the conference room now."

"Excellent. Hold the channel open on your end so we can narrow the coordinates to a small enough field. We'll be sending over our First Contact team and a small contingent of escorts. Is that agreeable?"

"It is. We'll prep the launch deck to receive your ship."

"Unnecessary. Our team is transporting over now."

Vansen looked at Commodore Ross for a brief instant wondering what the speaker on the Halsey meant when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see soldiers appear out of thin air, deposited upright on the deck by a flash of brilliant white light.

"Well, you folks sure know how to make an entrance! I'm Commodore Glenn van Ross. I believe you've already met Captain Vansen."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Major Fox Mulder, Chief of Alliance Diplomatic Services aboard the Halsey. My colleagues, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and Dr. Dana Scully. Our escort team is headed by Captain Alex Phillipson."

"Welcome, all of you. May I ask what that was that brought you here?"

It was a standard meet and greet and it would go according to some unwritten plan. And while the Halsey team was meeting with the commanding officer of the Saratoga, a second meeting was preparing to begin. In truth, however, it was the third meeting in this place that would concern historic promises and such. But the second meeting was something of a mystery.

----------------------------------------

Aerotech Board of Directors

"Is the communications link with our agent aboard the Saratoga ready in all respects?"

"It is. The link is triple encrypted and completely secure. The light-cubed gear is fully operational, and the link is now active."

"Mr. Wayne. Please explain your actions during the meeting with the alien representative."

"I revealed nothing, sir. The Chig made the usual accusations, but I revealed nothing. The mission to recover the survivors of Tellus and Vesta almost went according to plan."

"Explain."

"We anticipated the Chig response. We anticipated that they would attack the returning transports. We expected the 58th would be assigned to the escort mission. That much went according to plan. The 58th were assigned and the Chig did indeed attack the returning transports. At this point, however, what we hoped for and what actually happened went their separate ways. We had hoped that the 58th and the returning transports would be destroyed. However, a heretofore unknown race intervened."

"Do we know anything about them?"

"Here's the real kicker, sir. They are human. If I didn't know any better sir, I'd say that they are from Earth. I have some images that I'm transmitting on a sub-channel. Their main vessel is what they call a strike carrier and as you can see, it is several times the length of the Saratoga. Shortly after they arrived they deployed eight of what I am told they call battlecruisers, which as you can see in the third image are capable of launching fighters. In the fourth image you will see them deploying fighters of a type I am unfamiliar with. It is not a design I have ever seen anywhere on Earth. But it is the next image, number five, that should concern us the most. It was actually the first image taken. It shows the alien fleet emerging from an energy vortex. The limited sensor scans available to me aboard the Saratoga indicate the vortex was actually an opening into an unknown dimension of space. From what I have been able to determine, based on interviews with the pilots of the 58th, these other 'Humans', they call themselves Tow Ree or something that sounds like that. Regardless of what they call themselves, the pilots told me these people have at least four or five different methods of achieving Faster-Than-Light travel. They also have at least three methods of point to point teleportation, and one incredible method of inter-planetary travel at the individual level."

"Incredible! What is happening there now?"

"Commodore Ross is holding an initial round of meetings with them. I was unable to place any listening devices within the room due to the short notice in arrival time. With a bit more warning, I can bug any room they decide to use in the future. I will know more after Ross concludes the initial meeting."

"Excellent. Contact us at that time. In the meantime, we will prepare a team of first contact specialists to assist you. It may be that we will be able to 'negotiate' for their advanced technologies, but only if you are unable to obtain their secrets by the usual methods."

"Of course sir. Saratoga out."

----------------------------------------

Aerotech Board Room

"So, it would seem there is a new player in the galactic playground."

"Do you have any information on them?"

"Not at the moment. The ship designs are not familiar to us."

"Will they pose a threat to the Project?"

"That remains to be seen Madame Secretary."

----------------------------------------

Elsewhere...

"Tok'Ra. I wondered when you would come to call."

"I trust all is well with you young one?"

"Only an Ancient could get away with calling me, Amanda, a member of the Q Continuum, 'young one'. I expected you eventually. Q tells me you and your offspring performed quite well with the Starfleeters. I fully expected them to welcome you with open arms. I knew Picard, in another incarnation of my life. I thought he would be more trusting, truthfully."

"People change, young one. If you knew Picard, then how could you be here?"

"My parents were members of the Continuum. They chose to disregard our policies and took human form. While in that form, they conceived me. It was not until I was in my early twenties that my abilities began to emerge. At that time, the Continuum became aware of me. Q came to me and offered the opportunity of a lifetime. And so I joined him. Eventually, he sent me back in time and to this universe, to watch over the Humans of this place. I have found them to be refreshing. They are something of a conundrum to me. My only experience with Humans was the ones I grew up with. These have faced just as much adversity as the history I am more familiar with. But where Federation Earth had its Eugenics wars and a Third World War, this Earth had an AI war and now a war in interstellar space. It took my Earth over a century to recover from a nuclear war, and I am grateful that the humans I watch over have not taken that drastic step."

"You are wise beyond your years, Amanda. The task which you set out for us, it is complete?"

"It is and it is not. There are plots within plots at play here. By accomplishing what I asked of you, a new path has been opened. One that I did not expect. I am not familiar with your Earth or with any of the wars you have fought. But here, there is apparently a conspiracy of humans attempting to conceal the truth. I have also detected some manipulation of the timeline here, though it is difficult to trace. I have some evidence of a dimensional incursion, but I have no idea who or what caused it."

"Perhaps if I encourage my 'offspring' to enter into formal negotiations with these Humans you watch over, something will fall out into the open. You and I must watch over our charges, to see to it that nothing amiss occurs, yes?"

"Yes."

"They are meeting now. Shall we join them?"

"Yes. But we cannot allow ourselves to be seen. Not until we determine whether the dimensional incursion is related to this conspiracy."

"If it is a conspiracy to conceal the truth, then it will take a Fox to ferret out the culprits."

"A cryptic answer. Should I now say, 'the game is afoot?'"

----------------------------------------

Saratoga

"The device we used is called a transporter beam. It was a gift from one of our allies, the Asgard. Our Alliance is made up of several member worlds and it was born out of a need for mutual defense. We face an enemy at home intent on one of two possible outcomes; enslavement or barring that, annihilation. But we are far from home, and we are attempting to return to our home system. One of our long range patrols detected weapons fire and the order was given to investigate. And now we are here, seated opposite you."

"My only regret is that my wing commander could not be here for this historic occasion. He was wounded in the explosion aboard ship some days ago. We had a peace envoy from the Chig government aboard and we were attempting to negotiate a settlement, but it was a trap. The envoy was wearing some sort of explosive device and Colonel McQueen was seriously wounded in the blast. I regret that our doctors can do nothing for him."

"We can. We have the technology to completely heal him, if you would allow this."

"You would do this?"

"We would. As a sign of good faith."

"I will have him brought here. Excuse me a moment."

----------------------------------------

"Mulder to Halsey."

"Go ahead, Major."

"We've offered medical assistance to one of their officers who was severely wounded in a recent accident. Scully will be taking care of him, however I suspect he may need the use of a sarcophagus."

"Understood Mulder. We'll stand by on the transporters."

----------------------------------------

Corridor outside Saratoga Medical

"Commodore! I understand our guests have come aboard?"

"They are in meeting room five."

"Good! I'd love to meet them, if you could arrange an introduction?"

"I guess that would be alright. They've offered to heal McQueen. I'm here to get him up there."

"Let me help you with the gurney, Commodore."

----------------------------------------

"Doctor Scully. Here is your new patient, Lieutenant Colonel TC McQueen."

"Allow me to examine him?"

"Of course."

"Scully to Halsey, please route me through to the infirmary."

"Medical. D'Fir here."

"D'Fir, I have a patient here that requires your special attentions. He is suffering from several broken bones, and smoke and heat damaged lungs. He has burns on approximately eight percent of his body. Severe third degree burns. Instead of beaming him there, I wish you to beam over with a healing device and with a standard medical kit."

"Of course. I will collect my kit and beam over shortly."

----------------------------------------

"Major Mulder, if I may present Mr. Allan Wayne? He is our Aerotech representative. Aerotech is the company responsible for producing the fighters and ships of our fleet, along with the colonization of our few colonies."

"Pleasure to meet you, Major Mulder. On behalf of Aerotech, I am fully authorized to begin negotiations with your fleet, that is, if there is anything that you require?"

"Actually yes, though I am uncertain how well you can handle this particular item. The majority of our technology is based on a naturally occurring mineral that we call tylium. Our supplies of raw tylium are running low and we have been unable to secure a source of this material. This is the chemical structure of the mineral in question. If you have access to this, we are perfectly willing to pay for a substantial amount of it."

Mulder knew that their stocks of tylium and its refined form, solium, were plentiful. This was a test of sorts, to see what a 'company' representative would make of the request. From the moment this Allan Wayne walked in with the Commodore, Wayne had looked upon the members of his team like a kid drooling over candy in a sweets factory. He could see the unbridled lust in his eyes. Lust for new technologies. In a great number of ways, this Allan Wayne reminded Mulder of Spender. The hair on the back of his neck was at full attention. Something was definitely off in regards to Mr. Wayne.

"I'll transmit this message to our R&D department back home. To be honest, I'm not much of a chemist, so I'm afraid I don't recognize what this tylium might be called here. But I'm sure they will and come up with a location or a decent substitute."

"My thanks to you, Mr. Wayne."

As Mulder thanked Wayne, there was a flash of brilliant white light, and D'Fir appeared. She immediately moved over to stand by Dana, who was examining her patient with a medical tricorder, a device whose technology had been given to them by the Federation. D'Fir pulled out the healing device and slipped it on over her hand. A few seconds later, the device began to emit a soft warm glow, and D'Fir ran the device slowly up and down over the patient's body. Dana, meanwhile, was using a bone knitter to mend the broken bones in McQueen's legs and chest, before switching to the dermal regenerator to repair the burned skin on the patient's body. There was a significant amount of damage to repair, and so it took some moments to fix a great deal of the damage. McQueen would need a few more treatments with the healing device to completely repair the damaged lung tissue, and a few more sessions with the dermal regenerator to heal the remaining burn scars, but it was a good first step, as there was only so much stress that Dana and D'Fir wished to impart onto the patient.

Off to one side, Ross and Wayne stood in something close to sheer awe as the heavier burn damaged skin began to disappear only to be replaced by slightly scarred skin. With the explanation of more treatments yet to be completed, both of the men were left to wonder at the sheer technological prowess exhibited by these people. The Commodore thought of all the good that could come from such devices; too many soldiers he knew were back home, having been horribly disfigured as a result of this war. Wayne, on the other hand, saw that a much different application was possible. Aerotech operatives in the field could interrogate someone as brutally as was necessary to get the needed result, and then restore them to full health. It would allow them to send a most unique message to all those who opposed them; the prisoner talked and they weren't even tortured!

"Commodore, with your permission, we would like to transport Colonel McQueen back to our vessel to continue his treatments. If you wish, you may join him at this time and I will arrange a short introductory meeting with our Admiral and if you like, a tour of our ship?"

"I think I would like that a lot."

"Major Mulder? May I also see your ship?"

"I don't see that as a problem, Mr. Wayne. Of course."

"Mulder to Halsey."

"Halsey."

"We are ready to transport back. We will be joined by Commodore Ross, a medical patient, and an aide to the Commodore."

"Adjusting transporters to compensate for additional mass. Ready."

It was a unique sensation for Wayne, this transporter beam. One instant he was standing in the conference room and the next he was on a completely different ship. In many respects this vessel Halsey was similar on the inside to the Saratoga. The walls were made of metal. Ok, so it was the only thing he could think of, but it was at least one thing. He wondered at the possibilities of being the Aerotech man to bring home the secrets of all this new technology. A spot on the Board was within his grasp, possibly even a directorship! It was certainly an area in which he excelled, that of manipulating others to do his bidding. He wondered if these Tau'ri were familiar with Earth confidence games. Perhaps they had their own version of these games, perhaps not. But it would be worth the effort to try.

Scully and D'Fir took their patient down to the infirmary where he was placed into a sarcophagus for quicker healing. Scully was perplexed, as was D'Fir, for the moment, by the 'nipple' on the back of McQueen's neck. Scully wondered if it was something that was unique to McQueen alone, or if it was something peculiar to this particular version of humanity. But was it a mystery worth exploring? Never let it be said that Scully didn't like mysteries.

Mulder had a problem. His guts were telling him that Wayne was not to be trusted. It wasn't something he could pinpoint, at least not yet. He needed to study the man and the people who knew him best. That would mean interviews with the Commodore, his aides, and perhaps the members of the 58th Wildcards that they'd rescued earlier? But he did not want to come across as pressing them for information. Something more informal perhaps?

----------------------------------------

Next Evening

Mulder had played a card in this new game. He had convinced Admiral Ramos that the best way to get to know these new Earth humans was to throw a little party. To get them at ease and to ply them with alcohol so that they would interact more freely. He doubted that any of them had ever tried Romulan Ale, Centauri Brevari, or Colonial Ambrosia. By inviting the members of the Halsey patrol and the crew of the Peregrine to the gathering, perhaps he could obtain information by means other than his own conversations. The party would be held in one of the auxiliary mess halls, and hours before it began, he was in the room with a team from security, planting microscopic microphones and video cameras around the room so as to pick up everything possible.

"Distinguished guests from the Saratoga. On behalf of the Alliance of Independent Systems, I bid you welcome to the AIS Admiral Halsey. We wanted to show you our hospitality and the endless advantages of our technology. All of the food and drinks you will be served are created through our replicator technology. The system is easy to use and so long as the pattern for the food or drink is already programmed into the system, we can create almost anything you could ask for. Allow me to demonstrate. Computer, one mug, slightly chilled, Ramos Mint Brew."

The replicator complied with the request, and a cool frosty mug of the Admiral's favorite brew, one of his own recipes, appeared on the pad.

"Commodore? Anything in particular you like?"

"I'd like a good Whiskey."

"Then you'll enjoy this. Computer, one bottle, liter size, fifty year old Laphroaig. Commodore, this particular brand was introduced to me by a good friend; my Executive Officer. I think you'll find it may become a favorite of yours as well."

On the replicator pad, a bottle of fifty year old whiskey had appeared, along with four small glasses. The Admiral poured one for the Commodore and one for himself. The look on the Commodore's face told it all.

"Admiral, I've had my fair share of whiskey's, both good and bad, but this is quite exceptional. A shame we don't have this one back home. Perhaps I could talk you into giving me a few thousand cases?"

"I think something could be arranged."

Wayne was taking all of this in with not even a stumble in his step. Aerotech was a major Earth corporation that had been in contact with other alien species for well over one hundred years. But the contacts were kept extreme corporate secrets. From the New Mexico Grays, to the Chigs on Tellus and Vesta, to the Sibonites of Regula Three, they'd negotiated for advances and released them slowly over time into the market place on Earth. It had kept them at the top of the pack, among the other mega corporations. The replicator tech was similar to something the Sibonites used, though the Tau'rian Replicator seemed more refined. These Tau'ri were certainly more advanced than his Earth, but they also were the most similar species to his own kind that he'd ever run across. Though all of the species that his Earth had run across, publicly and secretly, were bi-pedal, none were as closely related in appearance as these Tau'ri. In fact, the resemblance was most uncanny.

"You attention please. I had promised myself that this affair would have a minimum of interruptions, but this might be something of interest to our guests. Approximately forty-two months ago ship's time, our strike fleet was involved in a war against a very powerful enemy. We had allies who were equally powerful. The images you will see were taken and compiled from the various gun cameras and sensor recordings of the battle at System J25. This little film will showcase our technologies and allow you a glimpse of the type beings we Tau'ri are."

For the personnel of the Saratoga, seeing such a large fleet attacking a few dozen vessels was something of a shocker. But seeing those few dozen geometric vessels wipe the floor with the larger fleet was completely unexpected. The strange blue vortices were very much in evidence but here they were used as weapons. Ships poured out of them in some spots as the geometric ships were torn apart by the intense energies at play within the energy vortices. It was a dance of laser light and energy torpedo writ large against the backdrop of a planetary system. Though it was a beautiful thing to see, in these intricate dances of fighter and capital ship, the fighter pilots in the room recognized the desperation in the moves of the allied pilots and the pain in the faces of those who were there and who survived to fight another day.

For the pilots who had survived the battle at J25, seeing the moves made by comrades brought back many memories. For Ibañez, who had not been with the Halsey at the time of that battle, and who had missed out on the entire Borg war, the sight of her instructor pilots flying and fighting brought to the fore all of the lessons they were trying to impart on to her. Colonel Starbuck had told her of the effectiveness of the Cylon pinwheel attack and the devastation it could wring on an unsuspecting enemy. In the holographic imagery before her, she saw entire squadrons of Mustang fighters fly into pinwheels to attack what she knew were Borg troop ships and interceptors. She also knew that the Tau'ri no longer flew the F-302 interceptors. They had abandoned that design in the favor of what had now been designated the A-310 Thunderbolt.

Here and there around the room, fighter pilots gravitated towards fighter pilots and fleet officers felt the pull of other fleet officers. It seemed that though their uniforms were different, a pilot could recognize another pilot and a Marine could easily tell another Marine, even if the planets of origin were different. The only time that had not been true, in the travels of the Halsey, had been when the Tau'ri Marines had met the Starfleet Marines. Those Marines had been so in name only, and had been treated as little less than common soldiers by the Tau'ri Marines aboard the Halsey.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think of our hospitality?"

"I find it quite refreshing, Major Mulder."

"How so?"

"You have to understand where we are coming from, sir. Our first chance to make first contact went drastically wrong. Now we're in a war for our very survival. Certainly our record for making friends out here in space is not the best."

"So you're oh-for-one in the first contact column, or at least you were before you met us. Now you're one-and-one on the column, and it looks like your luck as a species is improving."

"I for one, want to see us come out on top in this war. Your ships obviously have some weaponry that would make a big difference in our war. But what could we have that would interest your forces?"

"Oh I think we could find something that would interest us. And I'm sure we could make the exchange worthwhile to your forces. But I'm curious in one aspect, Mr. Wayne."

"Curious about what, Major?"

"The Commodore described you as a company representative. I wonder if I should be discussing this exchange with your government or with you? Certainly, both have a vested interest in the negotiations, but as a corporation, you stand to benefit the most by this exchange, yes?"

"That would be true under normal circumstances, Major, but we're in this war for the species, sir, and we have no other options. That I happened to be on the Saratoga when contact was first made with your forces, was sheer coincidence. I was on the ship leading a contingent of engineers as they interviewed the pilots of the Hammerhead squadrons. There have been many requests for minor modifications forwarded to us by the military. Some were very minor indeed and some would have meant a complete revision of sensor suites or armament panels and so the engineers were there to talk things out to see if changes were warranted or not."

"I see. Uhm, if I might make a request?"

"Of course, Major. Please do."

"In order to determine if your Hammerhead fighters might be of use to our own forces, we wondered if perhaps some of our more experienced pilots might borrow a few for a few days, to test them in dissimilar combat against our own fighters."

"I think that could be arranged."

----------------------------------------

"Well Commodore, what do you think of that whiskey?"

"It's a mighty fine blend, Admiral. Makes me want to pick up my guitar and sing the blues."

"I play a mean fiddle, maybe we could find a bass and jam a little?"

"That might be fun."

----------------------------------------

Infirmary

"D'Fir, I think we should forego the remainder of the treatments and put McQueen in the sarcophagus."

"I agree Dana. It would certainly repair the damage faster. I'm a bit worried about the 'nipple' that we can't seem to identify though."

"I've told Mulder about it. He said he would find out what that was about."

"Good. I'll have the patient transferred to a sarcophagus for immediate treatment."

"Well done."

----------------------------------------

Mess Hall

"Captain Vansen?"

"Major Mulder. How might I help you, sir?"

"Doctor Scully down in the infirmary found something on your Colonel McQueen that she can't seem to identify and I wondered if perhaps you could assist us with this small item?"

"If I can sir, though I am no medic."

"Understood. It seems she and her staff found what they are terming a 'nipple' on the back of McQueen's neck. The fact that he also did not have a scar from where a normal umbilical cord would have been on one of us, leads her to believe that the 'nipple' is the remains of an umbilical cord. Is that a fair assessment?"

"It is for a tank, sir."

"Tank? Explain please."

"McQueen is an in-vitro, sir. During the AI war, our losses were so severe that the Earth forces experimented with creating a race strictly for warfare. The In-Vitros are gestated and grown inside of tanks. They are withdrawn from the tanks fully grown and then sent to school where they learn all those trades that normal humans no longer want to do. They were seen as less than human because they weren't 'created' in the normal fashion."

"They're clones?"

"No. Each one is genetically unique. During the AI war, a lot of in-vitros were pressed into military service. Afterwards, instead of coming home to waiting families, they were shipped to off-world mining facilities and press-ganged into slavery. I have an in-vitro for a commanding officer and an in-vitro in my unit. Frankly, I'm ashamed at how we've treated tanks in the past."

"Second class citizens?"

"Less than that even. Even slaves back in the 19th century had more rights than tanks."

"You keep calling them tanks. Why?"

"They were gestated in cylindrical tanks. Their umbilical cord was connected at the back of the neck."

"And they were created as slaves?"

"No. Not slaves. They were created to fight a war, but when the war ended, they were sent to work in the mines."

"Cruel fate."

"Indeed Major Mulder. Did you take part in that campaign?"

"The Borg Campaign? Not as a pilot no, though I did play a role in the capture of one of the Borg Queens. I serve as head of the Diplomatic section. I also served as an interrogator for prisoners."

"Is that because you know how to talk to people?"

"No. I did that because of what I did before I joined the Alliance Military. On my home world, I was an agent in our Bureau of Investigations. A profiler, specifically. My degree in Criminal Psychology prepared me for identifying all things criminal. In that respect, it also helped me to categorize the Borg as a sociopathic species bent on assimilating everything and everyone into their Collective. They couldn't achieve their goal of perfection, so they wanted everyone in the universe to be like them. Can you imagine a fate worse than death, Captain?"

"What can be worse than death?"

"The fate that these Borg had for others in their part of the universe. To be made a part of the Collective and have absolutely no say in what you do, and not have the ability to think for yourself for the rest of your life. We called it a 'Living Death'."

"I can't begin to imagine something like that."

"So, mind if I ask a business question?"

"If you want to buy something, I suggest talking to the Commodore."

"No, nothing like that. Just, well, Mr. Wayne of your Aerotech Industries is of the opinion that the Alliance should be negotiating with him and not with your legitimate government. I'm just trying to figure out why that would be the case?"

"Personally, Major, I wouldn't trust any Aerotech person as far as I could throw the Saratoga. I'd say you're better off with the government, but I'd probably be wrong. The current UN Secretary General used to be with Aerotech, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's convenient. Thank you Captain, for the information. It should make our upcoming talks all the more interesting."

Allan Wayne was intently watching the holographic imagery. The battle scenes were intense and he was avidly watching all of the displayed technologies therein. Already he knew he would have a long report to send back after this meeting. Admiral Ramos came up alongside him.

"Mr. Wayne. Everything alright sir?"

"Admiral. Sorry. I'm just amazed at your technology and at that battle your forces fought! Such a diverse fleet you have and so many different types of ships and fighters! Perhaps you could identify a few for me?"

"Of course! Those curved ones are F-302 Mustang fighters. We use them as attack platforms. The long semi-cylindrical ones with the short delta shaped wings are Mk III Cobra interceptors. The X-shaped ones with the negligible nose are also attack fighters. SA-105 Aurora Starfury. The ones with the long nose are SA-310 Thunderbolts. Both Starfury types are classified as attack interceptors as they can both carry a decent number of anti-fighter missiles, but the Thunderbolt can also carry anti-ship torpedoes, so it also serves as a bomber platform for us. The large winged fighters are Peregrines. They have up to eight people on the crew deck and we utilize them as command and control units for the fighter squadrons."

"Many thanks Admiral. Perhaps, if you could, might I obtain a copy of this footage with an introductory message giving us the names and classes of the vessels involved? It would help Aerotech decide which technologies are the most pressing for us."

"That can be arranged sir. I'll see to it myself."

"Again, thank you Admiral."

----------------------------------------

Some hours later

VIP Quarters

Saratoga

It had taken him by surprise, the sheer naivety of these other humans. To be so open about sharing their technology! Imagine! But he'd spent the better part of the last four hours now going over the film in detail for his report to the Aerotech Board. And now he was as ready as he could be.

"…connection established. Security protocols engaged…"

"What news Allan?"

"Mr. Director. As I mentioned earlier, I was invited, along with the crew of the Saratoga, to go over to the Halsey for a relaxed evening. These Tow-ree humans are a most unique sort of people. They seem to take all of their technology for granted. In just three hours aboard the Halsey, I saw more examples of devices that each alone could revolutionize the way we do business on Earth."

"Give us an example, Allan?"

"I'm sending two data streams via sub-channel, sirs. One is my own personal recording of the evening's festivities. The other is a film of a battle these Tow-ree participated in their recent past. They called it the Battle of System J25. My report is attached to the second file. I'd suggest you read it before and after watching the film. You'll understand why when you do that. The most amazing thing I saw earlier, was something the Tow-ree Admiral called a replicator. It had an aural interface. All one has to do is speak to it and ask for anything you desire, and the machine creates it! I tested it myself by asking for a simple chicken salad sandwich, and I have to say, that I've never had a better sandwich!"

"But how does it work?"

"The Admiral explained it simply. The machine has a pattern stored for hundreds of thousands of possible foods and drinks. When an order is given, it accesses those patterns, and replicates the item. The truly wonderful thing is that any type of matter can be fed into the machine. You could feed it ship-board waste, which I'm told they do, and it will produce something useful or edible! The Admiral indicated that the device rearranges matter at the molecular level."

"What else?"

"They use multiple methods for achieving FTL travel. They have at least six different fighter designs, and hundreds of designs for ships. The most amazing thing, however, is that these people gained space travel less than ten years ago!"

"Impossible! How could they have come so far so fast?"

"I'm told they made contact with a friendly species of aliens called Asgard, that have helped them advance to the stars. Another thing I learned is that this fleet fell through what we would call a black hole and ended up in this part of the galaxy, but that at home, they are involved in a war that has been waged for the better part of the last ten thousand years!"

"What sort of warfare?"

"Initially, it was planetary based, but only recently has it moved in to the space arena. The small flotilla of ships here, apparently represents the bulk of their fleet."

"Anxious to get home are they?"

"Very anxious, sirs."

"Did you forward our request for trade negotiations?"

"Yes. But they indicated that they would rather deal with a planetary government, than an individual company."

"Not a problem. Secretary General Hayden is in our pocket, as it were."

"When should I expect the diplomatic team?"

"As our man there, you are authorized on behalf of the UN to commence preliminary talks with them."

"Of course. I will contact you at this time tomorrow with my progress report."

"End transmission."

----------------------------------------

Halsey

Admiral's Quarters

It had been a long and tiring day for him, but he had much yet to do. It was just that he lacked the proper concentration at the moment. Which was why he had moved his furniture aside to create a clear space in which to meditate. Marius kneeled in the middle of the room, his head held high, and his blade in his hands, the point on the floor. He was aware of every tick of the clock, aware of the distant hum of the engines, aware of the subtle throb of the air circulation systems. The road to this place had been a long one, and it had been paved with the dead bodies of so many. Twenty-six hundred years of life. The endless death was enough to drive one insane, and he guessed that in some small way, all Immortals were insane. It was a wonder that more of them didn't snap under the pressure of so much stress.

The sword was balanced before him, yet it was as if it wasn't there. This meditation technique had been taught to him by Ramirez so many centuries ago. It centered his mind and allowed all of the stress to melt away, at least for the moment. The technique was a close cousin to the Jaffa Kelno'reem meditation, and it had been created to take the person into a deep trance, where all of their mental prowess could be focused on a single task.

Finally, his eyes opened and Marius turned to the task at hand.

"Computer. Access all scans of carrier vessel Saratoga and display."

"Standard image."

"Approximate measurements?"

"Vessel is five hundred and twenty-six meters in length with a beam width of two hundred and forty-five meters. The dorsal tower is sixty-eight meters in height and the ventral structure is forty meters. All measurements rounded to nearest whole unit."

"From the visual scans, estimate the number of launch bays."

"There are twenty-eight hangar bay openings, along either side of the vessel, fourteen per side."

"Souls on board?"

"Scans of biological entities indicates approximately six thousand crew aboard carrier vessel."

"Is enough scan data available to extrapolate interior schematics? Enough to rebuild such a vessel?"

"Negative. There is sufficient scan data available to extrapolate exterior surfaces only."

"Very well. Extrapolate exterior surfaces and save to a file. Given overall exterior dimensions, would there be enough room within the vessel to place standard hyperlaunch drives, jump drives, and warp drives?"

"Affirmative."

"Excellent. Save all data to a file. No further instructions."

Marius had just closed the file when an alert klaxon began to ring. He pressed his comm-link on the back of his right wrist and contacted the bridge. Of all the nice technology they'd obtained in their journeys, he liked these wrist mounted comm-links the best. Even more so than the silly looking insignia badges the UFP wore. Then again, considering that the Alliance personnel wore their insignia on their shoulders, such a comm-badge would look out of place on their uniforms.

"Bridge. Jameson here, Admiral."

"What's going on?"

"Our sensors are reading a dimensional distortion. It's not anywhere nearby."

"Launch probes to investigate. Notify the Saratoga that we've picked up something on our extreme range scanners and are launching probes to clarify the scans. We wouldn't want them shooting down our probes now."

"Affirmative sir. I will inform you when we have more data. Bridge out."

The vessel was small and sleek. Its surface seemed to absorb all light around it, rendering it almost invisible to the unaided eye and to the most intense artificial scanners. There were no discernable engine structures or weapons. And if it hadn't been for the fact that one of the probes launched by the Halsey nearly impacted the small vessel, then it would have gone undiscovered. The probe in question sent a burst transmission back to the Halsey in the instant before it self-destructed, so as not to pose a hazard to space navigation.

The crew of the vessel were not native to this space. They were not native to this universe. Their technology allowed them to breach the barriers between dimensions at will, though for the moment, they could only come to this place. Their scientific prowess told them that for each dimension they wished to enter, they needed a completely different set of equations. Thus far, only the equations for this particular universe had borne fruit. Thus far, only this particular crew had been lucky. The race they represented had lost dozens of other ships and crews with failed equations. But they had persevered, and they had at the very least proven that this type of travel was possible.

The universe they were from had a planet named Earth as well, but it wasn't even remotely of any importance. The planet in their universe was a backwater that had long since been dropped from the list of 'places to visit, things to see' for galactic travel. It was also a planet that was extremely xenophobic, much like this one here. It was something they used to their advantage, to sell them new, well, new for the Earthers and old for them, technologies. Each time they visited this place, the natives left the negotiations table sure that they had pulled the wool over the eyes of these visitors, but in fact it was the other way round.

"Admiral, probe unit Alpha-Six nearly collided with an unidentified vessel, then self-destructed per design."

"Any data on the vessel?"

"Negative sir. Forwarding the best image we have to your system, sir."

"Got it now. Well, now, what do we have here? Jameson? Any other vessels detected yet?"

"Negative sir. Just the one."

"Open a channel to Commodore Ross, if you please, and make sure it's secure."

"Aye sir."

----------------------------------------

"Ross here. Admiral? Do you know what time it is?"

"A little after zero-dark-thirty, Commodore."

"Ah, well. Just so you know."

"Are we secure Jameson?"

"Negative sir. Showing a change in the checksum data stream. Tap is on receiving end, sir."

"What? What are you going on about Admiral? This line is secure!"

"Negative sir. We're showing fault in the checksum data stream that underlies this transmission. Stand by one. Jameson, do you have a lock on the Commodore?"

"Aye sir."

"Beam him to my office, Commander."

"Beam? Wh…"

"…at?"

"Sorry about that Commodore, but it was necessary. If you'll tell my computer what size clothing you wear, it'll give you a generic ship suit to wear."

"What's the meaning of this Admiral?"

"Please, Commodore. Tell it what size you need. I've no desire to have this meeting with you in boxers and a tee-shirt."

"Laugh while you can, funny man."

----------------------------------------

A few minutes later

"Feel better Commodore?"

"Much, Admiral. Now, mind telling me why you had to bring me over like you did?"

"Our sensors detected a tap on your side of the conversation. What I'm about to show you is for your eyes alone, sir. A few hours ago, our sensors detected a dimensional incursion wave. What that means is that someone not from around here, that is, this universal dimension, appeared. We launched a series of cloaked probes to the approximate location and one of probes sent this back. Any idea what it is?"

Commodore Ross looked at the photograph. It was of a sleek ship with no discernable engines or other features.

"Can't say that I've ever seen anything like this, but, it does bear a striking resemblance to something I read about while I was at the Academy."

"Oh?"

"Back in the last century, after the Second World War, there was a supposed crash of an alien vessel in New Mexico."

"Roswell?"

"Uhm, no. Artesia, I believe it was. In any case, the US Government dismissed it as a hoax at the time, but the people there all described a ship like this one."

"Hmm. So many similarities, yet so many differences."

"What?"

"Commodore, what I'm about to tell you can go no further than this room. Do I have your word on that?"

"Admiral, I'm fully cognizant of the rules of classified briefings. You have my word, however, that nothing will be said of this meeting."

"Good. What I'm about to tell you may shock you, but I swear by everything I believe in that it is true. The reason we, that is to say, this ship, can detect dimensional incursions is because we are from a parallel dimension ourselves. I was born on Earth. My Earth and your Earth have similar histories it seems. The other thing I must tell you is that while I may seem human, I am actually of a race called Immortals. In every respect, Immortals are human. The one difference is that a normal Earth born human will eventually die, while an Immortal will live forever.

"As I said, I was born on Earth, in what is today on my world, called Spain. I was born around 500 BC. I have lived among the Humans on my earth for two and a half millennia. Fairly recently, by our calendar, news of our Immortality came out to the public at large. Immortals were given the right to form our own off-world colony on Earth's only satellite. We formed a governing council, and I was elected as the first President of said council.

"We were asked to come here, Commodore, to help resolve an issue of grave concern for your world. Whether that issue has been resolved or not, remains to be seen."

"Who asked you to come here?"

"The one whom Immortals call the Creator. You see, Commodore, Immortals were created, much like how your people tried to create life. Your race built the AIs to be soldiers and servants. Your people created the Invitroes to be a race of slave-soldiers and slave-workers. Our Creator created Immortals to act as guardians and teachers for the mortal humans on our Earth."

"I can't imagine that your Earth had the ability to create life artificially 500 years before the birth of Christ!"

"Oh well, I was born around 500 BC, but I'm not considered an elder of my race. There are several who are far older than I. And it wasn't humanity that create us. It was a race whom we call the Ancients."

"Ancients?"

"For millions of years they lived among the stars. Earth is their home; it is where they evolved. They were there before mortal humanity came into existence. In their early travels among the stars, they encountered a race far, far older than they. They called them the Progenitors. It was this first race that seeded the universe with a form of life not unlike their own. They encountered the Ancients and gave them the gift of ever-lasting life. They charged them with the task of overseeing the growth of these newly planted species among the stars. Shortly after that, the Progenitors passed into the next phase of their evolution. In the fullness of time, the Ancients also evolved, but they created Immortals first to take over their duties."

Marius felt Tok'Ra's approach. It was a feeling of warmth that flowed over and through his body. It was the Quickening of their father-creator.

"Marius, you do know how I do not like to be referred to as your Creator."

"Wha? Who? Uhm, I think I need a drink."

Commodore Ross was looking at a glowing ball of gas in front of him. It had appeared out of thin air!

"Easy now, Commodore Glenn van Ross. I will not hurt you."

"You know my name?"

"I know much about your species, Commodore. As Marius has already told you, I asked him to come here. It seems that you have discovered the secondary issue at play here Marius."

"The dimensional incursion, you mean?"

"The one who looks over this place, this universe, has been unable to identify the root cause of these incursions. As you might imagine, omnipotent or not, it does take quite a bit to oversee a universe."

"Why did he call you Marius? The one who oversees this place? Who might that be?"

"My birth name, Commodore, is Gaius Marius Augustus. As to the overseer of this universe, I'll let Tok'Ra cover that issue."

"Tok'Ra? What, er, who, are you?"

"My dear Commodore Ross. I am an Ancient. There is no cause for alarm. I am here, as are my children, at the request of the Ancient Overseer for your universe. You are at war with a race you call the Chig. It is a war born out of misunderstanding and out of contempt. You have a corporate entity on your home world known as Aerotech Industries. They are responsible for creating the various ships of your fleet and indeed most of the equipment your fleet uses. But why create weapons of war if not to use them? Your Aerotech Industries created this war for you Humans. If you indeed want peace with the Chig, then you must first arrest those responsible for creating this war.

"The Chig have been known to Aerotech Industries for some decades. They ignored their claims of territories when they launched the Tellus and Vesta colonial missions. The Chig responded by eradicating those colonies, for indeed, they had been located on worlds already colonized by the Chig. Though they might have been blameless at the beginning of this fiasco, they are not without blame at this point, for surely the entire blame for this mess can be placed squarely at the feet of those within Aerotech Industries.

"Long ago, when the universe was young, my kind roamed the stars as explorers. We have fought and won and fought and lost more wars than all of your combined histories put together. There are races in the universe far more insidiously evil than any you can imagine. I am one of a very few of my kind chosen to remain behind to guide the younger races. It is a honor and a duty that I take very seriously."

"I've seen no evidence of any such 'guide' here."

"You've not seen her for she chooses not be seen, yet she is here."

There was a flash of light in the room, more brilliant than a supernova that lasted for a few mere nano-seconds, but it was long enough to catch the attention of all in the room. Those who had survived the encounters with Q in the Federation universe recognized the entrance flash of a member of that Continuum.

"Oh great. A Q. There goes the neighborhood."

"I beg your pardon! While I may be a Q, I choose not to interfere directly as other Q do."

It was a woman, fairly young in appearance, that was in their midst. Dressed in a long flowing robe that was both transparent and opaque at the same time. Commodore Ross could feel a caring warmth radiating from her. His most primitive of instincts told him that this being meant him no harm.

"I meant no disrespect Q. But you have to admit that after having dealt with other Q, I might be a bit wary."

"If I were in your shoes and had dealt with Q, I would be wary too. But do not think of me as a Q. Call me Amanda."

"A Q with a sense of humor. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Be kind Admiral, less I decide to turn you into a frog for a bit."

"Uhm, no thanks. I'll be good!"

"So what are you? A God? Is that what you would have us believe?"

"No. I am not a God. Neither is Tok'Ra for that matter. He and I belong to the same type of species. Ours is one that is long-lived. Very long lived. I have been watching over your world since the first of your kind learned to walk up-right. Before that, I was human, in another universe. I know what it is to make a mistake. But I also know what it is to fix a mistake. I must do now something I should have done when this stupid war of yours started."

Amanda snapped her fingers and alarms began blaring out all over the fleet. The ships of the Tau'ri fleet, and those of the Saratoga battle group were caught, as if by a hand, and were swept across the stars. In mere seconds, the two groups of ships found themselves in Earth space. Amanda snapped her fingers again, and a large battle group of Chig vessels suddenly appeared in the same space. A third snap of her fingers rendered all weapons systems and drive systems temporarily inoperable, save for station keeping thrusters.

Marius pressed the com-link on the back of his wrist and called the bridge.

"Bridge! What the hell just happened!"

"I 'aven't the foggiest, sahr!"

"Take it easy Mr. Jameson. Your accent is slipping."

"Apologies, sir. We don't know what hit us. But we're not where we were. Astrogation puts us in the Sol system, in Earth orbit if you can believe it, sir."

"Knowing full well the power of a Q, I do indeed believe it."

"Admiral Ramos? What just happened?"

"Our dear resident Q decided to move our little party and our fleets into Earth orbit. Beyond that, I'd suggest you ask her."

"Well, Miss Q?"

"Please Commodore Ross, call me Amanda. I did this so your investigative services would have full access to those responsible for this war, and so that you can carry out negotiations with your enemy. I'm sure that Admiral Ramos will gladly provide security for the negotiations."

"We will gladly do so. War is a terrible thing and if indeed this one was not meant to be then, yes, we will provide security for the negotiations. We will even mediate these negotiations. Your Earth is not my Earth. Your war is not our war. We have no vested interest in your affairs. And if not myself, then perhaps one of the other alien members of my crew?"

"Alien members, Admiral?"

"Alien members Commodore. We have Klingons, Tok'ra, Borg, Betazeds, Minbari, and Colonials aboard. Though I'd recommend the Betazeds. They'll keep both sides honest in this mess."

"I'll take it under consideration and pass along your offer."

"That's more than fair, sir. In the meantime, Commodore, I will be tasking my fleet to track down these dimensional incursions and see just what the hell is going on."

----------------------------------------

Earth Space

A day later

The alien vessel that had made the dimensional incursion a day before had traveled quickly to the Chig home world and had traded new technologies to them. Advanced cloning methods, newer weapon designs, faster computational devices. For this was the business they were in; commercial trade. In one fell swoop upon entering this universe, they had discovered two distinct races that probably would never have met and if they had met, would have been friendly towards one another, as neither race could live well in the atmospheric conditions of the other race. But where was the profit in keeping these two races on friendly terms?

They had first come to this blue planet over a local century ago. They had wanted to observe the local population in their reaction to visitors from the stars, so they had cobbled together a small ship, put in it enough pieces of alien matter to make up three creatures, and dropped the ship into a barren field. They had laughed long and hard at the reactions of the locals. Then they played on that reaction. Random abductions. Random sightings. Crop circles. Mysterious bits of messages received on numerous antenna arrays. All the while working with a select few to advance the technological level to a point where they wouldn't feel so bad about invading their world and claiming it for their own. An outpost for a new universe. An outpost from which to begin building a new universal empire.

They had made the jump between dimensions a few local days previously and had gone directly to the Chig home world to sell them the very latest in technological advancements, deciding to stop by Earth on their way back to their jumping off point. As they entered the Sol system, they found a lot of ships on their sensors that shouldn't be there. Too many ships, of so many different designs. Too many ships with multiple forms of engine technology, multiple types of weapons, and, of all things, multiple types of shield technologies! Perhaps they were just in time to witness another First Contact situation for the Earthers? The small crew resolved to observe quietly. The rigged their craft for full stealth mode, a type of condition that up to now had kept them unseen by the Earthers sensory nets.

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Three days later

Admiral's Office

"Thank you for coming to see me, Major Carter. I've been thinking on a few things of late, and I need an opinion."

"Anything I can do to help, I will."

"Good. In going over the records of the Colonial skirmishes with the Cylons, I found a number of similarities in terms of tactics. The Cylons use sheer numbers to try and overwhelm the defending fighters of a carrier or fleet. The Cylons are like our former Borg enemies in one respect only; they are both cybernetic organisms. I dare not imagine an alliance between the Goa'uld and the Borg. Such a joining would overwhelm our own universe and I fear we would be soundly defeated. Fortunately, the Cylons are not the Borg.

"To this end, I studied their tactics, and found a startling similarity with the tactics employed by the Japanese and the Germans during World War II. They attack in large numbers, they show no mercy, and they are not above using suicide tactics to win the day. I've no desire to pit our own pilots against suicidal machines. Ships and cities in that war put up walls of anti-aircraft fire in an attempt to shoot down incoming enemy planes. We use anti-fighter batteries on our ships, but these are simple laser cannons. I know that engineering and science crews have been hard at work retro-fitting the anti-fighter laser batteries with pulse phaser cannons, for greater ranger and more power, but the idea I'd like to float past you is a modification of one of our existing ships

"During our war with the Borg, we used modified Federation J-class transports as light escort carriers. We also used their J-class transports as just that, transports. What I propose is to modify the J-class again. We take the standard transport and place anti-fighter rail gun turrets atop the cargo pods. We can utilize the existing cargo space as munitions magazines. Add in phaser strips to the periphery of the vessel and we now have a dedicated anti-fighter platform that provides one more level of defense for the larger cap ships. Moving on to another design, again from Starfleet, we have the Defiant-class heavy escort. The weapons are already as massive as we can make them, shy of adding Vorlon cannons, but that would make the ship too unwieldy. So my question to you is, how quickly can we begin producing hull sections for these two new ship classes?"

"Actually, sir, since the Forge Deck has no other outstanding orders, we can start production immediately on both ship classes. We can assign the Nightingale to building the Defiant-class ships and the Attendant to either building new flak ships or modifying our existing transports."

"I like the way you think, Major. I do have another ship in mind, but I'm not real sure what category it would fall under."

"Oh?"

"First of all, which is our most powerful beam weapon?"

"The Vorlon cannon or the Shadow Slicer, but not by much. The Type XII phaser is a close second, along with either the Romulan or Klingon disruptors, with Borg plasma beams a very close third."

"Ok, what about missile type weaponry? Include torpedoes in your assessment."

"Our own phase shifting Shipwrecks are quite powerful, but the Federation tri-cobalt torpedoes make all others pale in comparison. If we apply the phase shifting technology to these tri-cobalt torps, we'll have a weapon that neither the Goa'uld nor the Cylons could defend against. In the limited simulations we've run, pitting standard tri-cobalt torpedoes against Goa'uld Cheops class motherships, and given their odd desire for clustering together in tight groups, the explosion caused by the torpedo generally took out at least two motherships with one blast."

"Good. What we want then is a small ship, perhaps a crew of about forty to fifty, with the beam weapon emplacements of the types you mentioned, and launchers for standard and phase shifting tri-cobalt torpedoes. Instead of building a new type of ship, let's modify the existing J-class design again. Heavy beam weapon emplacements, torpedo and missile launchers, automated feed systems for the launchers, extensive sensor arrays, and limited crew. With our version of shields, and updated weaponry, these will become the system patrol ships. Adding another group of cargo pods gives the ability to add on a few fighters for limited scouting sorties."

"Sounds good sir. I'll have my staff draw up the plans you need."

"Excellent Major. And now, for some rest. Two more days before we can begin the business at hand. The business I've been dreading these last few days. You know, I really hate diplomatic meetings."

"Can't say I blame you sir. But better you than me, sir."

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Next Day

Sol Space

Red-Alpha squadron was on their third pass through the system when the sensors pinged on a target that hadn't been there in an earlier pass. Had they been using the same sensors as the Hammerhead squadron that they were sharing this duty with, they wouldn't have seen the contact. But theirs were sensors derived from a combination of many species, and were somewhat more able to detect all the myriad oddities of the universe. Such was this oddity. A quick laser-link communication to the lead pilot in the 35th Wildcats determined that they saw no contact where the pilots of Red-Alpha did.

As they drew to within eight thousand meters of the object, all of the pilots in both squadrons could make out a vague outline of a ship that was occluding the stars behind it. Red-Alpha leader called for backup, and two more squadrons of Thunderbolts moved in their direction along with a pair of Peregrine command ships. The Peregrines came into the area under cloak, and the fighters flew past as if seeing nothing. The two command ships approached to within five hundred meters of the ship, before dropping their cloaks and activating their tractor beams. The small alien ship suddenly found itself unable to move, and very shortly surrounded by several dozen fighters. The Peregrines moved towards the Halsey, with their captive ship under tow. Attempts to hail the ship had gone unanswered.

Within the alien ship there was chaos and bedlam. They had thought themselves invisible and they had been proven wrong. They had thought the Earthers primitive and perhaps that was true, but it was not true of these others here. Two of their ships had approached to within half a metra and had been completely unseen either by sensors or by their own eyes! They had strained their engines almost to the point of overload, but could not escape the tractor beam that held them firmly. They had chosen not to answer the hails that had come over every frequency they had monitored for the Earthers.

The two ships that held them in their grasp pulled them towards the largest ship they had ever seen! It pulled them along and into the ship and set them down gracefully on the deck. Before any of them within could do anything, the ship was surrounded by over a dozen creatures wearing, of all things, what looked like metallic armor and capped by large bird-like heads. No, there were also some dog-like heads. This was something entirely new! Perhaps these were new players in this part of the galaxy and perhaps there was an opportunity to trade?

"Attention the ship! You will open your hatches and debark or we will be forced to cut your ship open. You have one minute to comply!"

"First, what should we do?"

"We open the hatches, Second. Make sure Third and Fourth are present as well."

"As you command, First."

The hatch on the side of the ship opened and a small gangplank flowed out to meet the floor at an angle. The security crews in their Jaffa armor, all the better to intimidate those within, stood fast and primed their staff weapons. Several of them gasped as small blue-gray aliens emerged. Not a one of them stood over five feet in height, but except for their blue-gray skin, they were human in appearance, with a slight epicanthic fold to their eyes. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Greetings. I am called First. Why have you captured my ship?"

"First you said? I am Admiral Marco Ramos, commander of the Alliance First Battle Group. May I ask, what species you are?"

"Li-Nezha. Answer my question, human."

"The Earthers could not identify your ship. As we are providing mediation and security for the upcoming peace negotiations, we felt it best to bring you aboard and begin a dialogue."

"The Earthers? You are not of them?"

"No. We are of the Alliance of Independent Systems."

Through an earpiece in his ear, Marius heard the following from Doctor Jackson.

"…They might have a different skin tone, but their eyes have that Asian fold to them. The name Li-Nezha appears in Chinese mythology. Li-Nezha was the boy child God of trickery and general all around prankster…"

"Never heard of you."

"Well, like you, we're not from around here."

"Oh?"

"Our scanners confirm that your ship has a different quantum signature than the Earthers. You are not from this dimension. Neither are we. We're just passing through."

"So are we."

"You shouldn't lie, First. It's not beneficial for any sort of future relations between our peoples."

"How do you know I'm not speaking the truth?"

"Because your ship and others like it have been seen on this Earth for decades. No, I rather think you are more than just passing through this area."

"Admiral. It's Jameson, sir. We've gotten remote access to their archives with a little help from Amanda. These aliens are selling weapons technologies to both sides in the current conflict, pitting one against the other. No reason yet for it, though."

"Well, First. It seems you've been rather naughty as the Earthers would say. Selling weapons technologies to both sides in this conflict. Shameful behavior for a race with the ability to move between dimensions."

"There is no way you could know that!"

"Tell me, First. Are their legends among your people of a race that lived long ago? A race that seeded the multi-verse with life?"

"The Fore Runners. Yes. There are such legends."

"Would you believe we have two of them on our ship?"

"Not without evidence of this fact."

The Immortals felt the Quickening growing in their minds. They knew Tok'Ra was coming. The Li-Nezha looked up as a golden cloud materialized in their midst. It was a wonder to behold, this cloud, for within it was a second cloud; a silver cloud, that slowly took shape into the form of a human. A human female.

"Li-Nezha. You're almost as bad as Q. Tricksters of your galaxy. You should know better than to interfere with another sentient race."

"You compare us to the vile and loathsome Q? How dare you!"

"Ah. So you are aware of the Continuum. Good. It will make my task all the more easier. Tell me, First, do you respect the Q?"

"The Q are the chosen of the Fore Runners. We respect them highly. How do you know of the Q?"

"I am one. I am the Q who oversees this universe. You have interfered with the species in this place and you must make amends to both species. Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else the Continuum will not be so merciful as I am being. They will erase your kind from history. I am granting you the opportunity to make amends and to leave this place peacefully. You must never return here."

"Erased from history? No. That is something none of us want. Very well, Q. We will make amends to the species here. It is perhaps fortunate that both of them will be at the peace talks?"

"In your case, it is most fortunate."

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AIS Halsey

Diplomatic Offices

The parties were arriving at the same time as Marius. Three representatives each from either side with Mulder, Jackson, and himself as mediators. The Earthers had sent their Secretary General of the United Nations, Diane Hayden, and Allan Wayne, of Aerotech. Commodore Ross of the Saratoga was along as their token military representative.

Marius found it odd, that Earth would send a representative from a private company to these negotiations, but then when looked at in conjunction with other things going on here, perhaps it wasn't so odd. He felt a tremor in his Quickening, and saw the rest of the room freeze.

"Young one."

"Tok'Ra. And Amanda as well. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Beware the Earthers, Marius. The one calling herself Secretary General was once the same as the other. He is the current heard of Aerotech and she is the former head, and both are pawns of the Li-Nezha. There is a movement afoot here to conceal the truth from all on Earth. Our best advice to you is that when you sit down, you must endeavor to keep these two sets of humanoids at the table until their differences are resolved. Make sure there are plenty of cameras and microphones in the room. You will want your ship to broadcast the proceedings as far and as wide as possible."

"Thank you. Now, I must attend my duties."

Marius did as the two higher beings had suggested and opened the room to broadcast.

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Offices of Global Network News

Broadcast Central

"…so what you're telling me is that you are the communications officer aboard the Halsey, correct?"

"That is affirmative, sir."

"And you will be sending us a signal for rebroadcast of the peace talks?"

"Also correct, sir."

"Hell son, send it on down!"

On hundreds of thousands of televisions around the globe, the message was the same, a generic 'Please, Stand By'. Then a talking head appeared, known far and wide as a trusted reporter to them. There was breaking news, he told them, of the War. The UN Secretary General was preparing to meet with the Chig representative to discuss their surrender. There was also some third party acting as mediator between the two warring parties. The image of the reporter shrank down to a small window in the upper left corner as the image from the Halsey took up most of the screen.

"…Good. I see we have a picture now. Folks, for the majority of us on Earth, this will be the first time we see the face of our enemy. I'm told that the three people to the right side of the screen are the UN Secretary General and two aides. The three 'people' on the left side are the Chig equivalent of our own Secretary General. And the three in the middle are the mediators. They are representatives of some unknown race that the USS Saratoga recently encountered in deep space. I am told that these people call themselves Ta-ree. Excuse me, Tow-Ree, and that they are from a distant part of the universe, and that they are explorers. As most in our audience know, the Saratoga was one of the many carriers that took part in the Battle of the Belt and it is home to the famous 58th Wildcard Squadron. Apparently all we have going on at the moment as what seem to be basic introductions. We're going to listen in on the frequency now, and interrupt as necessary to explain the proceedings…"

"On behalf of the Alliance of Independent Systems, and on the member worlds represented aboard the Halsey, I welcome both parties to these negotiations. My name is Major Fox Mulder and myself and my aides will attempt to help you reach a compromise suitable to both sides. For the benefit of myself and my aides, if only one representative from either side could speak at a time, I'm sure we'll find that these proceedings will advance apace.

"While I understand that both sides have valid reasons for beginning this war betwixt yourselves, I seek to understand these reasons, so please bear with me if it seems at times that we are covering ground that has already been covered. That said, please, Chig Representative, explain why your forces attacked the Human colonies at Tellus and Vesta."

"The Humans were warned not to encroach on our territorial space. The one called Hayden was aware of our territorial limits."

"I was not! This is the first I've heard of these so-called territorial limits!"

"Untrue. You were there, in the system you call Epsilon Eridani. We found your probe, the one you called Pioneer 10, as it entered our space. We deciphered the messages you put on there. We sought to make peaceful contact. We invited you to meet us at the Eridani system. You, Hayden, and others like you, claimed to be acting for your world. We signed treaty in good faith. Yet you still sent colonists to one of our nursery worlds. We merely defended our young ones."

"Nothing but bold faced lies! I never met with you nor did I sign any treaty with you!"

"As I have no way of determining who is telling the truth, I'm afraid I must ask a higher power for guidance in this matter."

As all of Earth watched, the one called Mulder took to one knee and appeared to pray for guidance. As his lips moved to some unheard prayers, the camera panned up and right just in time to capture the formation of a silver cloud that moved and coalesced over the form of Major Mulder.

"Naughty Humans. And here I thought it was against your most Holy of Laws to lie? Yet I forget that you are a politician and among your kind it is acceptable for politicians to lie. Shall I show your world the truth Human Hayden? Shall I show your world the record of your meetings in the Eridani system?"

"Who, uh, er, what are you?"

"Consider me the Guardian Spirit of the Universe. I have watched over the varied species of this plane for billions of years. I have taken over the form of the one you know as Mulder, for to see my true form would render you blind in awe of my radiance."

On Earth, on a thousand thousand television sets, the words 'Technical difficulties, please stand by…' suddenly appeared. It would later be attributed to an unexpected solar flare interfering with the signal from the conference ship, but in actuality it was due to the official UN censor inside the main satellite download site cutting the incoming feed to the networks. But it wasn't the only site, and many smaller networks took up the slack in the feed, broadcasting the events to their loyal viewers, without the interruptions from the network talking heads. With no play-by-play, the viewers were left to make their own judgments about the events taking place at the conference. In truth, many, far too many, were tired of the lies by the current slate of politicians and of the lies told by the politicians before them. News that the war was caused by an Earth corporation did not sit well with them.

It started in the smaller cities first, with angry citizens taking to the streets. The average citizen can take a lot of things. Sacrifices in times of war are one thing, when the war is legitimate, but when it is a war caused not by an error on the part of the legitimate government, but rather on the fault of a greedy corporation, then the citizen can only take so much. It is said that greed is one of the deadliest sins out there, and in this case, it would prove deadly to the offices of the Aerotech Corporation. Citizens marched on their local town halls, demanding a cessation of hostilities, and demanding justice. They wanted Aerotech and its officers, current and past, to pay for their crimes against humanity.

To the average citizen on the street, the fault of the deaths of the colonists at Tellus and Vesta, could be laid squarely at the feet of UN Secretary General Hayden, who, as chairwoman of the board of Aerotech, authorized the missions to colonize those two worlds. Worlds, which, had already been claimed by the Chig.

The average citizen of Earth wanted the simple things in life. A roof over their heads, medical help when necessary, three meals a day, the right to engage in leisurely pursuits, and the right to practice their religion as they saw fit. They didn't want this war. In thousands and thousands of small cities across the globe, the news footage turned from coverage of the peace talks, to coverage of the rising citizen's movement. Even with full blown censorship in place due to the war, word of the peaceful protest spread far and wide, eventually coming to a small part of Nevada where Aerotech had its headquarters, and to Virginia where the Aerotech shipyards were located. It also spread to New York, where the UN was situated.

Aboard the Halsey, Amanda had made her presence known to all the major players, using a bit of subterfuge.

"Secretary Hayden, the human race does not breathe methane, and the Chigs do not breathe oxygen, yet you chose to invade their worlds, and to invade their sovereign territory. The two races can yet be friends, provided the treaty you sign here today is obeyed by all. There will come a time, when Chig and Human may fight along side one another, but that is still far in your future. For now, the two races can pool their resources. There are many systems with habitable planets. Some systems have planets with oxygen atmospheres, some with methane environments. In some regions, those planets exist in the same system. You can work together, which benefits both races. Or you can annihilate one another, benefiting neither race."

"We can never have peace with such as they!"

"Perhaps, Secretary Hayden, you are too quick to judge. In any case, the decision is now out of your hands. Commodore, it is perhaps wise at this juncture that you contact your United Earth Forces headquarters on Earth for guidance."

"Why?"

"Trust me on this."

Major Mulder showed the Commodore where he could use a communications console in relative privacy. The Commodore learned, much to his surprise, that the UN on Earth had met in emergency session and had called for the immediate resignation of the Secretary General. Additionally, the UN and the UEF had immediately suspended all contracts with Aerotech pending an investigation by the World Court into charges of crimes against humanity perpetrated by Aerotech and its current and former board of directors. For the moment, permission to negotiate was given to Commodore Glenn van Ross as he was the ranking officer on site. His orders further stated that he was to take Secretary Hayden and Director Wayne into immediate custody pending trial.

And just like that, the war between the Chigs and the Humans was over. It would take a while for the news to spread to all the reaches of either fleet, and in the meantime there would be skirmishes between the two fleets. But in the end, the Chigs would return to their part of space and the Humans would honor the borders of known Chig space. Major Mulder and Doctor Jackson managed to get both parties to agree to a neutral line of space as a buffer between the two governments. A line in space one cubic parsec wide along the common border between Chig and Human space. And in the middle of that neutral zone, would be one station where the two races could meet to air their differences in relative peace, without resorting to outright warfare. The galaxy had just become a bit safer, and all because the average citizen on the street could stomach no more lies.

In the wake of the peace conference, the Li-Nezha made private overtures to both legitimate governments and offered to help with the rebuilding of their damaged cities. It was a small token of a peaceful gesture made by the race that had incited Aerotech to go to war with the Chig.

The UEF and the UN were both grateful to the AIS Halsey and her ships, and allowed them to stay in Earth space while they completed some overdue maintenance programs. In addition to fixing what needed fixing, they were also granted permission to do a little mining and the cargo holds of the various ships filled up quickly. One specially fitted Defiant had been completed for the Minbari aboard to take home, which they were scheduled to return home soon. A second slightly modified Defiant-class heavy escort had been built for the three members of the Terran Federation, who had completed their training, and were all too eager to return to their own universe.

The UEF had been gracious about letting the Halsey use the James Lovell Orbital Assembly Facility for a few weeks, during which the Forge deck was able to churn out hull sections for four Defiant-class heavy escorts, and two additional Hyperion-class heavy cruisers. The lead ship of the Hyperion class was, aptly named, the Hyperion, with the second vessel dubbed the Bunker Hill; they joined the Lexington and Concord as escorts in the fleet. The heavy escorts were christened Defiant, Victory, Valor, and Honor.

When the time came at last to leave this final mission universe, there was no great fanfare. Commodore Ross appeared on the main view screen with a message of farewell.

"Halsey, without your help, this war might have gone on until we'd destroyed ourselves. Now we have a viable chance for peace and the Chig and ourselves are eagerly taking that chance. For that we owe you a round of thanks. I have been authorized by the UEF to transmit to you, via a sub channel, a full database of our technology, including the plans and specifications for all of our current capital ships and fighters and support vessels. I have been further charged with presenting you with the UEF John F Kennedy. This vessel is the lead ship in the class and also the oldest ship in the class. It was due to be mothballed with the war now over. It is fitting to present it to you in your time of need. It has a full compliment of fighter and support squadrons aboard. It is our sincere hope that you can use them to win your own war. God speed and good hunting. Ross, Earth, out."

"Communications, signal the fleet. Prepare to jump. And, Jump!"

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Once again they were surround by an absolute white nothingness. But this time it was different. Their missions, the tasks that Tok'Ra had set out for them were completed. Now, when they jumped again, it would be the jump that would take them home. Three years spent jumping from universe to universe, fighting wars for others. Three years in which the crew of the Halsey and her support fleet had become as a family. The crews were now, without a doubt, the most experienced space fairing soldiers Earth possessed. But Tok'Ra assured them he would manipulate time one final time in their favor, and when they returned only three months will have passed.

"Mr. Jameson, what's the first thing you want to do when you get home?"

"I've in mind a good steak and a tall pint of ale, sir. And you, sir?"

"A cow or two, a few cases of beer, and lots and lots of rest and relaxation, and not necessarily in that order."

"Aye aye sir. Fleet reports ready to jump at your command, sir."

"Jump!"

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