Potential

by Texan

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

10. In the Eyes of a Ranger

In the Eyes of the Ranger

Back-story to the Potentials series by Texan

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It was like being caught in a Texas-sized tornado, Jake Sheridan thought, and it felt like that more and more lately. After ten-plus years in his current incarnation as a Texas Ranger, Jake had thought about moving on, but the world-wide revelation of the existence of Immortals made that a moot point. Then had come the offer from Mako, First Protector of Immortal Luna, to head up the security division for the Immortal Embassies and Consular offices. It had been an excellent offer and he'd taken it. That had been over six months ago and it had been a hectic six months! After moving to a new residence on Luna, he'd been briefed in on the goings-on regarding politics on Earth, Mars, and Luna. The news of Senator Kinsey's announcement regarding Immortals had prompted the Immortal Council to issue a travel advisory for all Immortals on Earth.

Jake had spent six weeks learning how to fly a shuttle so he could visit the facilities on Earth and Mars. His shuttle was part of the Lunar fleet, and as such was armed. Its weapons, however, would only be deployed if the shuttle pilot set the alert condition to red, and only pilots coded to the particular shuttle could set that condition. It was a failsafe so that if the shuttle were stolen while he was Earth-side, no one else, in theory, could deploy those weapons. Though of course, it was just a theory.

Jake had settled into his new role well enough. He had kept in touch with Olivia Benson whom he had met just over a year ago in New York City while tracking down a serial killer. Olivia was a detective with the New York Police Department's Special Victim's Unit. They were taking things slowly, one step at a time, trying not to rush things. Both wanted something special. But at least when he was in Texas, she could hop on a plane and visit or vice versa. Her going to Luna would be another matter altogether. But for the moment that didn't matter. Jake was in a shuttle headed to Earth, to go over the security at the Washington, D.C., embassy. The one thing in his favor was that the embassy had a large enough area within the walls to allow him to set the shuttle down at the embassy, thus negating the need for extra security on this trip.

"Independence Control, this is Lunar shuttle Echo Sierra on approach. Requesting atmospheric insertion vectors for the Washington embassy."

"Ah, roger that Echo Sierra. Stand by for vectors."

"Standing by."

"Lunar shuttle, we have a request from a VIP for transit to the Colonial Embassy at your destination. Are you equipped to handle passengers?"

"Roger that, Control. Awaiting vectors for docking."

The last thing Jake wanted to do was pick up a passenger. He wanted to get on the ground quickly so he could meet with Liv, who was waiting for him at the embassy. They had booked into the Hotel Washington on the Mall for the weekend. Then Monday morning, he would drop her at Union Station for her trip back to New York, and he would go on to the embassy to look over the security arrangements. A passenger would mean an extra few minutes in the air and that meant a few minutes less with Liv. Sometimes he hated duty.

"Lunar shuttle, we show hard dock on the outer ring."

"Confirm Control. I show hard dock as well. Standing by to receive VIP."

"They're on their way."

"They?"

Jake had no more uttered his question than a voice called out to him from the airlock.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted. Have a seat and get strapped in. I apologize for the lack of comfortable seating. I was not expecting to have any passengers."

"Nonsense. We just preferred to take a shuttle rather than have our molecules spread out between here and the Embassy."

"Amen to that! I'm Jacob Sheridan, but you can call me Jake."

"Colonel Sheba, flight commander, Silver Spar squadron."

"Commander Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you folks."

Jake executed a smooth separation from the space station, triggering his communications gear as he did so. "Independence Control, I have clean separation from the station. Requesting atmospheric insertion vectors."

"Roger that, Lunar Shuttle. Transmitting vectors now. Contact Andrews approach control on Guard when entering the Air Defense Interdiction Zone."

"Affirmative Independence Control. Lunar shuttle, out."

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"So, you folks going down to DC on business or pleasure?"

"Both, actually. I have a meeting at the embassy with representatives from the…err…five permanent members of your UN Security Council. Colonel Sheba is accompanying me as a bodyguard. After the meetings, we hope to see some of your capital city."

"I see. I too am going down for both business and pleasure. Pleasure first, for once."

"What is it you do, Mr. Sheridan?"

"My official title is Protector. I am going down to oversee the security arrangements for the Lunar embassy. I'll spend a few days Earth-side, then go back to Luna for more paperwork."

"Ah yes. Paperwork. The bane of every working person in the universe."

"Ain't that the truth!"

The conversation continued in spurts and pauses as Jake brought the shuttle down into the atmosphere and into the regular air traffic patterns. Then Jake was all business as he contacted Andrews control.

"Andrews approach, this is Lunar shuttle Echo Sierra on Guard, how copy?"

"Shuttle Echo Sierra, we read you five by five."

"Affirmative Andrews approach. Requesting vectors for approach and landing at Lunar Embassy in DC. Weapons are safed. Repeat, weapons are safed."

"Confirmed weapons safe. Transmitting vectors for approach and landing. At this time, we are launching an interceptor flight to escort you in to your final destination."

"Understood, Andrews. Lunar shuttle out."

The Capitol city by night seemed to take on a very different character than what possessed it by day. The shadows cast by the buildings and monuments almost called out to a person's very soul. It could almost be said that the very buildings were alive and at night they seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that their human occupants had left them alone.

For his first solo flight into the atmosphere, Jake had done well. His military escort had peeled off as he landed at the embassy and returned to their normal flight patterns over the city. Despite all the changes and added security in the wake of the September 11th terrorist attack, there were still military flights over the city. It would be some time before the advanced defensive systems that the IDB were working on would be ready for field testing and more time still before those same systems could be installed in cities around the world. But there would be a time, hopefully not too far in the future, when American cities would be protected against terrorists.

The very philosophy of terrorism was abhorrent to nature, or at least to Jake's nature. His long career in law enforcement, interspersed with short tours of duty in the military made the idea of a terrorist seem impossible to the strict code by which he lived. His opinion was shared by many but voiced by few. When a terrorist is captured, they should be taken to their execution forthwith. A trial for a terrorist was like a book for a dead man; both were useless. But of course, there was this whole idea of martyrdom, which was not a hard concept to grasp, but still seemed, well, just plain wrong.

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Las Vegas, Nevada

It was an apartment that could be found in any city in the US. A wide open floor plan with hardwood floors and just enough area rugs to offset the feeling of a cold floor on bare feet. It wasn't in a high rise like could be found in New York or Los Angeles. It was a third floor apartment.

The downstairs neighbors had called the police only a half hour ago to report what sounded like a fight above them. Two police officers had arrived to investigate the complaint and after speaking with the neighbors, they'd gone on upstairs to speak with the now quiet residents. The door was ajar and caution being the better part of valor, both officers drew their guns.

The smell hit them first. Intense copper. The scene was surreal. Blood was spattered on the walls in vibrant slash patterns. One of the officers ran outside quickly and lost what little he had eaten not more than an hour before during his dinner break. The other one still inside saw the body first, laying askew near the fireplace. The head, however, was over by the couch some feet away. He quickly called for a crime scene unit and for backup. Lots of backup. Lots and lots of backup.

"What have you got for us, Brass?"

"This one came disassembled. Have a look and let me know what you think?"

"Sure. Sara, get on the camera. Warrick, walkthrough. Nick, you're with me."

There was just as much blood now as there had been when the first officers on the scene had found the body. But the one who called it in had missed the message on the wall. 'Everything dies' was written in blood, and beneath it 'Immortals lie, Immortals die.' It was a unique message meant for a unique target. As they started to photograph the scene, Brass came in.

"Griss, looks like we've got two more headless bodies. One in an apartment just off the Strip. The other across town. The officers on the scene tell me the writings on the wall are the same as here."

"That can't be good."

"No. You suppose these men claimed to be Immortals and someone killed them to prove otherwise?"

"I won't know that until I examine the evidence. But I thought the whole idea behind Immortality was that they couldn't be killed?"

The look on Gil Grissom's face was that of a man full of unanswered questions. It mirrored the look of Brass' face. Unanswered questions. That's all a crime scene was at the beginning, unanswered questions. It took a critical and analytical mind to examine the evidence recovered to answer those questions. The moment he got back into his office he placed a call to a friend of his. He'd met the Commandant of the Texas Rangers twenty years earlier during a seminar for law enforcement. He'd heard that there was an Immortal among the Texas Rangers and he wanted to borrow his expertise for the duration of this case. But the Immortal Texas Ranger had moved on and was now living on Luna. So Brass placed a call to the Lunar Embassy in the nation's capitol and requested the services of Jacob Sheridan, Immortal Protector.

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Hotel Washington

They had slept late, Jake and Liv. After spending several hours walking along the National Mall and taking in the various memorials, they'd enjoyed a quiet dinner for two at a quiet Italian restaurant in Georgetown before returning to their room for a night filled not with sex or love making, but the warm comfort of each other's arms.

It was Sunday morning in the capitol city. Olivia awoke to the sounds of running water as Jake took a shower. She slipped quietly from the bed and went to join him in the shower. After all, it was always a good idea to conserve water, wasn't it? More than an hour later, they emerged from the shower. Not because they were tired of standing, but rather because they had used all the hot water. They fell heavily on the bed, satiated with pleasure and fell into a light doze. Jake awoke some time later. He wasn't sure what exactly had woken him, but he looked to the side and saw the light on the phone blinking.

"Front desk."

"Yes, this is Mr. Sheridan. You have a message for me?"

"Ah yes, Mr. Sheridan. A messenger came by just a short while ago. You are requested to contact your local office as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

Olivia noticed the strange look on Jake's face as he placed the handset back on its base.

"What's up Jake?"

"Had a message to call the 'local office'. Give me a few minutes will ya?"

"Sure. I'm gonna take a shower. A real one this time."

"Spoilsport."

Jake grinned as Olivia sashayed into the bathroom before picking up the phone again.

"Thank you for calling the Lunar Embassy. How may I direct your call?"

"This is Protector Sheridan. I was told to contact the embassy?"

"Yes sir. One moment sir while I connect your call."

A moment later a different voice, all business, came on the line.

"Security office."

"This is Protector Sheridan. You have something for me?"

"Not sure sir. Luna forwarded a request for your services by the Clark County Sheriff's department. Looks like there were three beheadings there last night."

"Immortals?"

"Unknown at this time sir. The Council is conducting a roll call to see if anyone Earth-side is missing. But you know how it is with our kind, sir."

"All too well, I'm afraid. Very well, can you send a car for me?"

"On the way sir."

A few moments later Olivia emerged from the bathroom wrapped in one of the hotel's robes.

"So, did you make your call, Jake?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, duty calls Liv. Unless you can get some more time off?"

"Depends. What's going on?"

"Las Vegas Sheriff's Office wants a consult. Looks like three headless bodies turned up last night."

"Immortals?"

"That was my first guess, but there aren't many details coming out of Nevada. The shuttle is assigned to me, so I guess that will put me there pretty quick-like. Want to come along? If it isn't an Immortal doing the killing or if any of the victims aren't Immortal then I could certainly use another perspective."

"Let me call my boss. I think I have two weeks of vacation time coming."

"You do that. I'll grab a shower, then we can head to the Embassy."

"Ok."

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Las Vegas

CSI Unit

"Griss, we've got another one. Dismembered body. Different message though."

"What was the message?"

"Colonial or Alien. Same difference. Kill them all."

"That makes four so far. Whoever's doing this had a busy night."

"I hope that's all though."

"Amen to that, Brass. Any luck getting through to this expert?"

"I've contacted the Lunar Embassy in DC. They're making arrangements to get him here today."

"Sounds good."

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Lunar Embassy

Wisconsin Ave, NW

"Protector Sheridan. There's been a fourth killing. A Colonial officer assigned to Nellis as an instructor pilot. Part of their agreement with the US government."

"Oh damn. That is not good news. Have you contacted their embassy?"

"Affirmative. Commander Apollo and his aide are on there way here. They want to go with you to Las Vegas to retrieve to the body."

"Of course. I assume I'll be flying into Nellis?"

"You assume correctly, Protector. The shuttle is ready in all respects. First Protector Mako has issued authorization for you to draw your choice of weapons."

"How kind of him. What do you have in the armory?"

"Colonial laser pistols. Standard issue nine millimeter pistols. Zats."

"Give me two of each."

"Two?"

"Detective Benson will be joining me."

"Of course, Protector. I'll send the Colonials to the shuttle pad the moment they arrive."

"Good. I'll prep the shuttle for immediate launch."

Three hours later, the four of them were driving into the parking lot of the Las Vegas Sheriff's Department CSI unit. They had landed at Nellis AFB, and after checking in with the base commander, had been granted a HumVee for the duration of their stay. The two Colonials, Apollo and Sheba, had opted to wear their standard issue laser pistols. Jake was wearing a Zat on one leg, a laser pistol in a shoulder holster, and a sword baton in his belt. Olivia had opted for her service pistol and one backup weapon. It was fifteen hundred hours, not quite nineteen hours since the discovery of the first body when they walked into the building.

"Hello. I'm looking for Captain Brass?"

"You've found him."

"Sir. Protector Sheridan at your disposal. I understand you requested my services?"

"We did. But I was under the impression only you would be coming here?"

"This is Commander Apollo and Colonel Sheba of the Colonial fleet. They are here for the body of their man. This lovely woman is Detective Olivia Benson of the Special Victims Unit of the NYPD."

"Oh? Have there been similar murders in New York?"

"Not that I know of. But Jake and I have worked together in the past and he asked for my help on this one."

"We have four bodies so far. One has been positively identified as a Colonial instructor pilot. The other three we have been unable to identify as yet."

"I see. May I see the three unidentified bodies?"

"Of course. This way."

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"So, Mr. Grissom. Tell me about this first body."

"Perhaps you should tell me what you see, Mr. Sheridan?"

"Very well. Caucasian male. Mid thirties. Some superficial slash wounds on the upper arms and across the torso. There are hesitation marks on the neck and upper torso. Whoever the killer is was unsure about this first kill. The cut on the neck wasn't clean either. Either the perpetrator was a very new Immortal, or the person you seek is not one of us."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The lack of burns around the neck for one. I'd appreciate it if what I'm about to say is kept to the occupants of this room. If it appears in a report, well, it would be the end of all Immortals. That being said, the only way to kill one of us is to separate the body from the head. The resulting event is the release of energies, a transference if you will. The winner gets the loser's soul, for lack of a better term. The energies transfer the sum total of memories and experiences of the previous owner. This is most often observable by a severe electrical disturbance at the site surrounding the murder. Well, look here. There are metal fragments in the wound and around the bone. Can you date the metal for me?"

"I think we can do that. Why?"

"Immortals tend to use well-made blades. During the Middle Ages, any blacksmith worth his salt could make a sword. But, only a true sword-smith could make a blade that would stand the test of time."

"I see. Do you use a well-made blade?"

"I use the blade that I carried at the time of my first death. A CSA cavalry saber. That blade is safe on the moon."

"Are you carrying a blade now?"

"I try not to go out in public without one. Just a standard 440 steel blade. This one slides into a baton so I don't always have to use lethal force."

"That's understandable. Do you recognize any of these men?"

"No. Not off hand. I'll contact Luna and see if they have anything on these bodies for me."

"You can use my office if you like."

"Thanks."

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"Mako."

"It's Jake, sir. I'm transmitting three photographs that I need to have compared against the database of Immortals. But my first guess is that these are not of our kind, sir. No signs of any electrical disturbances at either of the three crime scenes. I've asked the locals to date the metal fragments recovered from the bodies."

"Very well Jacob. I will order a search of the Watcher Archives at once. But I too have news. More bodies have been discovered. We have three in Los Angeles, three in Seattle, three in Cleveland, and three in Atlanta. Thus far, only one Colonial has been killed, there in Las Vegas. The deaths are being covered on local media, but if someone puts the evidence together, there could be a national panic."

"Not something we want. Have requests for assistance come in from those other cities?"

"Yes, from all of them. They all had similar messages written in blood near the decapitated bodies. I have put in a request to Stargate Command for assistance from one of the strike teams. As of 2100 Colorado time, Duncan MacLeod's team will be on stand down. One of his team members, however, is being flown out to your location as we speak. Expect her arrival."

"Who will be joining me?"

"Her name is Cierdwyn. She is a psychologist. I believe she has some experience in the criminal aspects of that science."

"Her help will be greatly appreciated. My shuttle, sir, has some analytical equipment aboard. I'd like to move it closer to my location. Perhaps MacLeod's team can be assigned as security for the shuttle?"

"Negative. His team can better serve you on the ground at the various crime scenes. I will request a security team from the SGC. Luna out."

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"Captain Brass, Mr. Grissom. I have news. Mostly bad, but some good."

"Bad news first please. It will give us something better to look forward to."

"Interesting philosophy, Mr. Grissom. Bad news first then. The Protector's office on Luna has informed me of the discovery of more decapitated bodies in each of four other cities: Seattle, Los Angeles, Cleveland, and Atlanta all reported three headless bodies each. The story for the moment is being kept out of the national media, but that won't hold true for long. It would seem, at least at first glance, that there is a concerted effort to ferret out the remaining Immortals on Earth. All this means is that I will be working here in your fair city until the cases are resolved. To this end, I am requesting privileges in your parking area to station my shuttle here. I have some analytical equipment aboard that may be of some use. Additionally, some help is being flown in at the request of the Immortal Council. The first to arrive is Cierdwyn, a psychologist, who will be arriving in a few hours. After her, are four Immortals, who will work out of the facilities on my shuttle and be tasked with coordinating the investigations in the other affected cities."

"How large is your shuttle?"

"I'll need about five parking spaces assigned to me. The shuttle will be parked there, and there will be a security team assigned to protect the shuttle from the inquisitive. I will be driving the HumVee back to Nellis and bring the shuttle back with me. I would request, then, that someone take me to a car rental facility to obtain some vehicles for the crew coming in. And if you would recommend a decent hotel in the area, I'd appreciate it. In the meantime, I will be contacting these other police departments to determine if the crime scenes are as identical as we are led to believe."

"Very well. We will continue with our investigation. You expect to be back here soon I take it?"

"Hopefully within the hour. Thank you gentlemen, for your help so far."

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"Ah, Commander Apollo. I trust all is well?"

"It is not. Whomever has done this to my pilot must be brought to justice."

"And whomever they are, they will be. On that I give you my word."

"Where are you going, Protector Sheridan?"

"I have been informed of similar deaths in four other cities. As a result, the Immortal Council has given me some help for this case. You are welcome to assist or to assign someone from your government to assist me on the case."

"Unfortunately, I am needed in Washington for those trade negotiations I mentioned. The instructor pilot had a Viper here for his use. I will be returning to Nellis to take that Viper back to your Capitol first, then to Mars. I will leave Colonel Sheba here to assist you."

"Very good, Commander. I am returning to Nellis as well. Perhaps we could go together?"

"Thank you."

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"Olivia. Hey."

"Hey you. I wondered when you were gonna finish up in your meeting."

"Hell, you know how it is. A cop's work is never done."

"I know. Believe me, I know that one. Any leads?"

"Maybe. The perp wasn't one of us. His or her blade left behind some slivers in the wounds. And there were hesitation marks on the bodies. Even a newly risen Immortal receives training with a sword before going out into the world. The first time I took a head, there was no hesitation. It was either me or him and there was simply no other choice. But thankfully, it's not something I enjoy doing and so I avoid it whenever possible. But that's how I know it wasn't one of my kind."

"I spoke to Cragen a while ago. They've got a serial killer on the loose. He needs me back there."

"I understand. I'll drop you at the airport on my way to Nellis."

"For some reason, Fate doesn't seem to want us together for long, Jake."

"Fate be damned! When this case is over with, you and I are going to take an extended vacation. We'll take a shuttle and take a tour around the system. You game for that?"

"The solar system? You mean, as in outer space?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. So, you up for that?"

"Hmm, sex in zero G. Sounds interesting."

"And we'd be the ultimate members of the 'Mile High Club'!"

"Count me in. You watch yourself, Ranger. I want you coming back to me."

"Count on it, Detective."

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Somewhere in Maryland

"Yes."

"The first step is complete. All agents report mission complete."

"Excellent. Proceed at once to next targets. And prepare an appropriate press leak."

"Understood."

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Las Vegas CSI Unit

The Next Day

The Watcher Archives had come back with no matches to the photographs transmitted to Luna, though it meant next to nothing. There were too many Immortals in the Archives for which modern photographs did not exist. The examination by the local coroner indicated that the deaths two nights previously had been perpetrated by four different persons. It was the angle of the blade strikes, according to the forensic evidence, that indicated this.

Radio carbon dating of the blade slivers was spread across a spectrum of at least fifty years. It told him only that all of the bladed weapons used by the perps were current production, certainly not something that the average Immortal would be caught dead with. There were so few masters of the art of sword-smithing that if a good quality blade had been used, it would have been easier to trace.

The metal composition told him the bladed weapons were probably something along the lines of machetes, which were good for cutting, but not really a weapon of choice for the type of fighting that Immortals generally engaged in.

The initial reports from the crime scenes in the other four cities had been faxed in just a few hours before. Multiple strike angles, hesitation marks, and in one case, the cutting weapon, all pointed to the possibility of a group of persons out there cutting off heads, and trying to get a particular message across to the audience. It was a message that the Immortal Council did not want in the public domain.

One of the bodies in Atlanta reportedly had a tattoo on the inside of the wrist. After a quick call to the Atlanta PD, a photo of said tattoo was in his hands. It was, undeniably, a Watcher tattoo. Jake walked out briskly to the shuttle to open a secure data link to Luna.

"Mako, it's me. We might have a problem. I'm transmitting another photo for you to check. This one from one of the bodies in Atlanta. The body had a tattoo on the inside of the wrist. It sure as hell looks like one a Watcher would wear."

"One moment. I am adding Dawson to this circuit."

"Dawson."

"Mr. Dawson, Jake Sheridan here. You are aware of the current spate of beheadings on Earth, yes?"

"I am. My people have been checking their own sources and no Immortals are missing."

"Any Watchers missing? The reason I ask is that a body in the Atlanta triple beheading has a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. I need to know if he's one of yours."

"Send me the image. I'll get back to you as soon as I know."

"Thanks. Sheridan out."

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"Mr. Sheridan?"

"Captain Brass. What can I do for you?"

"Come out here to the break room. It looks like the killings in the other cities have made the news."

"Shit-fuck-crap-hell!"

Sheridan walked out of the office he was using to go over the autopsy results and in to the break room. Sure enough, there was a talking head on the tube going on about the recent spate of killings in five US cities.

"…we now have confirmed reports of sixteen deaths spread across five US cities. Early indications are that the victims were targeted for execution by an as yet unidentified party or parties. In Las Vegas, the killers also took the life of Captain Circe, who had been temporarily stationed at Nellis Air Force Base as part of an exchange program with the US military and the Colonial Military. The names of the other fifteen victims have not yet been released pending notification of their families, but we have several unconfirmed reports that the victims may have been masquerading as Immortals…"

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Jake had been running on fumes for the better part of the last twenty-four hours and he knew he was headed for a hard crash against the wall, so he went to his hotel room to sleep for a few hours. He had given initial sets of orders to Duncan's team. Cierdwyn was, for the moment, working out of a borrowed office in the CSI unit, attempting to come up with some sort of profile for them to follow. Ramirez was on a flight headed to Atlanta to liaison with the police there. Peter Sennes had been sent to Cleveland, Amanda to Seattle and Duncan to Los Angeles. For Jake, the opportunity to meet the Ramirez himself had been priceless. He hoped that Ramirez would find something useful in Atlanta, but if not, he also hoped that with his knowledge, they'd be able to come up with some type of solution.

The door opened and his bed beckoned him. He fell onto it bonelessly. Just as his mind began to relax into a nice beta state, he felt the hair on the back on his neck rise. Someone was in his room! He rolled over casually, his hand moving to the Zat still in its holster on his leg. In one swift movement, he'd pulled and fired at a human shaped shadow he'd seen out of the corner of his eye. A grunt and a sizzle of electricity preceded a body falling to the floor. Some minutes later, the now tied up body groaned as consciousness came to the fore.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

"My name is unimportant. The information I have for you, however, is very important."

"Ok, Mr. Unimportant. What's this info you have for me?"

"You're looking for some people that have been taking heads?"

"What do you know about this case? Tell me now!"

"What I know would scare you, Mr. Sheridan. Or should I call you Ranger? Or is the title Protector more appropriate?"

As Jake stood there, listening to this man rant off his current and past titles, he pressed a button on his watch, under the pretense of checking the time. It activated a direct transmission line to the Protectorate's Office on Luna. The office couldn't contact him on that link, but he could transmit out. The incoming link activated a recorder on Luna, and immediately notified the duty officer on shift.

"So you know my titles, past and present. So what? What else do you know?"

"I know who's responsible for ordering the deaths. I know what his plans are."

"And just how in the hell do you know this? More importantly, why in the hell did you choose me, of all people, to contact? Especially in such a clandestine manner?"

"Let's just say I owe Fox Mulder a hundred lifetimes worth of favors. For getting rid of the Consortium leadership. But you know, you kill one head, and another springs up in its place. You can't kill off the Consortium. The conspiracy has always existed. It traces its roots back to Judas Iscariot, who betrayed...well, you know who he betrayed."

"I think I need to sit down now."

"Might be a good idea, Ranger."

"So tell me what you know, Mr. Unimportant."

"Alex. Call me Alex."

"Jake. Nice to meet you Alex."

"I'd say likewise, but that remains to be seen. As I said, Mulder and his colleagues, or is the word cohorts? Anyway, Mulder had collected enough evidence against the Consortium. Enough to put them all away for dozens of lifetimes. In a lot of countries, what they did would have got them shot, burned, and buried in a deep dark hole somewhere. But I understood Mulder's intent on sparing the world the pain of learning just how cruel as a species we could be. I understand why he recommended the leadership be prosecuted off-world. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the sentence was handed down. But I also understand why I was left out of the proceedings. As a high ranking foot soldier for the Consortium, I was tasked with doing a lot of the really dirty jobs. They took my arm, exposed me to the 'Black Cancer', and pretty much screwed up my life from the very beginning."

"Ok, so you have a few axes to grind. Say the word, and I'll have you in protective custody on Luna."

"I don't think you get it, do you? There isn't anywhere in the galaxy where I would be safe."

"No one has reach like that."

"The Consortium does."

"I do not envy your life at all, Alex. But in a way, I would guess it is much like mine. Always having to hide my true identity. Always running in fear of my life. It's a harsh life."

"At least when I die, I know it will be the end. But you go on and on. I think it would drive me insane."

"It's been known to happen among my kind. Seeing so much death. Knowing that a loved one will eventually die of disease or old age is but one of the cruel twists of fate that the Ancients have granted us as our inheritance. But I do understand why they created us. I know they said it was as guardians for mortal men, but I think it was something baser. The need to propagate their species. Whether they're twenty years old or twenty thousand years old, the need has always been the same, hasn't it?"

"I think I'm going to like working with you Jake. You're someone that understands me."

"Ok, well, before we get all mushy here, how about that info?"

"Yes well, it was something I had to say. In any case, I was contacted some months ago by a man who has assumed full and total control of what's left of the Consortium. He has brought in from the cold a large number of the rogue NID elements. Unlike the former incarnation of the Consortium, this new chief is keeping control all to himself. His goals for the moment are rather simple. He wants to discredit Jack Ryan, so the Consortium can put its own candidate into the White House."

"Kinsey? Kinsey is their candidate?"

"The man is as crooked as the universe is infinitely large. He is assisting the new Consortium leader in exchange for promising to turn over the Stargate and all of its benefits to the Consortium. He wants all Immortals rounded up for testing. He wants the Colonials to turn over all of their technologies and he wants them killed off."

"Ok, well. That is not the kind of news I was expecting today."

"As I said, they tried to recruit me for this current terror operation, but I refused. It's one thing to assist the Consortium in carrying out research that was supposed to free us from the Alien threat. Quite another to assist them in taking over the US, especially when their current leader is certifiably mad as a hatter."

"Do you know their current plan?"

"The first step was to strike in five cities. What little additional information I have obtained is that the time table of beheadings every two weeks has been moved up considerably. As soon as each team in the target city is done, they are to move on to the next target city. I have a partial list of target cities for you. At least the next three targets for a particular team, the same one that just struck here in Las Vegas. I also have information that leads me to believe there are a total of five target cities per team in the US. After the next set of beheadings, they're supposed to rendezvous at a game ranch somewhere in Texas, for a two week rest period. Then they'll take their killing spree off-shore. They want other nations to fear Immortals. So tell me, Jake, are you a 'player' in the Game?"

"How in the hell do you know about that?"

"The Consortium knows. When enough deaths have been reported on a global level, they plan to leak details of your Game. What is the goal of the Game? Only one will survive and that one will have power over all mortal man? What do you think that kind of information will do to the population of the world?"

"Oh…My…God."

"From Vegas, the local team moves on to Dallas. Then to Washington, D.C. Another team has New York City as a target."

"Are they choosing their targets at random?"

"I have no idea how they are choosing their targets. For all I know, they're advertising in the local paper."

"How do I get in touch with you, in case I need more info?"

"I will contact you from time to time. Or, you can advertise on this website. It's a singles board. Leave a message for 'One-Armed-Bandit'."

"Thanks. I'll do that. Anything else you have for me?"

"Just this. Because it was Immortals and Ancients that put away the old leadership, you now all have targets on your heads. And because the Colonials are working so closely with you, they have targets on them by association. And all of this falls right into Kinsey's platform, that Earth and indeed the universe, belongs to man and man alone."

"Any idea how he plans to discredit the current President?"

"Yes. And it's one that I'm sure that Jack Ryan is already trying to fight off. Kinsey plans to leak Ryan's entire classified history."

"I don't know what the man has done, but if it was in the name of national security, then it has to remain secret. If it gets out, I'm sure the consequences will be very, very, very bad."

"Add a few billion more 'verys', and it might approach how bad it will get."

"Thanks Alex. This might be enough to get things rolling in the right direction now. Sorry about the Zat."

"S'ok. You didn't know who I was. But since you did apologize, I'll give you a freebie. One of the next targets they've identified in Dallas is a Watcher."

"That will help us a lot. I won't say good-bye Alex, cause I hope you'll come back. If you ever want off Earth, just say the word."

"I'll keep that in mind, Jake."

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Jake waited until at least thirty minutes had passed before he contacted Luna from the secure confines of his shuttle. He wanted to make sure that no one had followed him from the hotel to the shuttle. He had to be sure.

"Mako? I take it you heard the transmission?"

"Yes. It is worrisome, Jacob. What these men are planning, it scares even me, and I had thought nothing could scare me any longer."

"I have checked with Dawson. There are no active Watchers in the entirety of the Dallas metropolitan area. But there is one retired Watcher there. He's a football fan and has season tickets for the local team."

"Have you notified him of the potential threat to his life?"

"We are sending one of our security people to him, just as a routine check, but we will provide him with a panic button, just in case."

"Mako, I think I will recall most of MacLeod's team and send them to Dallas. We need to put this retired Watcher under discreet surveillance. If he is the target, maybe we can pick up the assassins as well. If we can get one of them, maybe we can get the others before the Consortium's plan comes to fruition. I don't know about you or the other Immortals on Luna, but I do not want to be on Earth if the news of the Game leaks out. We'll become targets. Targets with bulls-eyes so big it will mean our death to set foot on this planet. I don't know about you, but I like it down here."

"Brief MacLeod's team in on the news. I'll inform the Council. Luck be with you, Jacob."

"Luck be with us all, Mako."

The news as delivered by this man Alex was thoroughly unwelcome. It was also downright frightful. Jake had never contemplated the news of Immortality getting out to the public at large. The idea of the Game would scare the public and it would be a return to the dark ages for all Immortals. Jake was not at all interested in being burnt at the stake. He put a call into MacLeod.

"Jake! What news?"

"Nothing good. I need you and your team mates back here as quickly as possible. Sheba and I will be going up to Independence Station to pick up a trio of highly modified shuttles. We'll be exchanging my current shuttle for the three new ones. She will take one and tow the second, while I take the third. One will be on loan to her, the second assigned to your team, and the third for me. The rest of the news I'll brief you in on when you arrive."

"Any chance we can get picked up by one of the shuttles?"

"Alert your team to stand by at their current locations. As soon as we get back with the shuttles, I'll ask Sheba to assist me in picking up you and your team."

"Excellent, Jake. I'll alert them and get them to hold at present locations."

"Affirmative."

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The exchange of shuttles had gone without a hitch. The IDB had finally built a specially designed shuttle for law enforcement. The LE shuttle had a cloaking device, shields, and a full weapons suite. The shuttle was a bit larger than the standard shuttles that the IC Protectorate division had been using. There were four fold-away bunks along either rear wall, a basic level forensics suite, and a communications suite that would enable the pilot to intercept any communications anywhere, encrypted or otherwise. And because the shuttle was larger, it had comfortable seating for six, and less than comfortable fold-away seating for an additional six. The LE shuttle had one additional item that the previous model shuttle did not. It had an armory aboard the vessel that included Zat guns, Colonial blasters, Jaffa Staff weapons, FN P-90s, M-16s with sub-barrel grenade launchers, and IMI Desert Eagles in 50 AE. There were enough weapons to outfit twelve people.

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Dallas, Texas

Three Days Later

With the entire team in Dallas watching over the retired Watcher, and with local law enforcement having been made aware of the surveillance mission, the team had settled in for the duration. Here and there, they thought they'd picked up a tail for the Watcher, but it was never the same vehicle twice, nor was it the same person twice. Either someone knew of their surveillance, or the target or targets hadn't moved in yet. It was a waiting game that was getting on their nerves.

Jake had dropped Olivia off in New York a few days previously, having asked her to pass along a general warning to the Police Department there. There wasn't much more they could do but watch and wait. After the visit from Krycek, and the news that their suspects had already moved on to the next set of cities, Jake had pulled the plug on their activities in Las Vegas, asking the CSI department there to forward any new findings to his mobile fax aboard the shuttle.

Jake had just settled in for the early morning shift of watching over the Watcher when the alert channel in the shuttle began sounding a tone.

"Shuttle LE-2, Lunar Control. Respond please."

"LE-2 here. Read you loud and clear, Control."

"Protector Sheridan. Be advised Independence Control has issued a system wide alert. We have multiple unknown contacts heading into the system. Luna, Indy, and Mars are launching whatever is available. We need your three shuttles to launch at once and form up a defense line in Earth orbit."

"Holy shit! I mean, understood Lunar Control. I'll get on the horn to the other shuttles and have them form up on me."

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

"Sheridan to Duncan, you copy?"

"Aye, I copy. I was asleep you know."

"Figured you would be. Listen, Lunar Control has advised me our shuttles are needed for system defense. Multiple unknown contacts headed in to the system. Hand off your surveillance mission to the locals, get your gunner and meet me at Carswell. On the double, Duncan. It sounds like the shit has hit the fan upstairs!"

"Aye, I'm moving now!"

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"Sheridan to Sheba, you awake over there?"

"I heard your message to Duncan. Connor and I are standing by for orders."

"Excellent!"

The three Law Enforcement shuttles lifted straight up from Carswell heading into the upper atmosphere at Mach 3. Jake had never been a combat pilot, always preferring service in infantry units. He let Colonel Sheba take the lead as he and Duncan took up flanking positions around their flight leader. Beside him, Ramirez was powering up the weapons and making the shuttle ready to fight in all respects. If this were an assault by either Anubis or the Cylons, Jake thought to himself, then I am seriously screwed if they need the services of an LE shuttle.

Though the LE class shuttles were armed, they only had light weapons. A single missile launcher on a retractable rotary pod holding nine Venom missiles, and a pair of small rail guns located one on each stub wing of the shuttle. That plus the shielding would be their only defense if this was indeed an attack by their enemy.

On the LIDAR screen in front of him, he could see the two Prometheus class battlecruisers taking up defensive positions. Both had their squadrons out and flying about, though one was taking up position with the line of LE shuttles over Earth. Jake had placed the fleet common channel on the overhead and could hear the news that the Daedalus was moving up to defend the inner system. F-302s and Vipers were launching at regular intervals and were lining up ready to meet the approaching unknowns. The next sight Jake saw would be forever etched onto his brain.

"Colonel! In front of us! What in the Hell is that!"

"Holy frak!"

Space seemed to blossom inward in a spiral of mottled blues and blacks. There were perhaps an even half dozen of these openings in the fabric of space and for the split second before any ships appeared, pilots and command personnel across the system held their collective breaths. Then one massive ship appeared from the central blue vortex, followed closely by other ships from the other vortices.

"Independence Control. Independence Control. This is the AIS Admiral Halsey. Rumors of our deaths have been greatly exaggerated. Permission to approach Independence station."

"Permission is…granted."

They were back. Jake breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn't be exposed to a hard vacuum this day. A sigh of relief that he wouldn't face combat as an untested pilot. A sigh of relief that he could now leave the defense of the system in the very capable hands of actual pilots. Beside him, Ramirez also breathed in relief.

"Our illustrious President certainly knows how to make a grand entrance, does he not Jacob?"

"Indeed he does. I'm just grateful it's him and not Anubis or the Cylons. I had no desire to face space combat when I woke up this evening. Give me a battle on solid ground any day. This pilot stuff is for the birds!"

"Well said, young one! Well said."

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

Anyone watching the news on television that early morning would have seen the 'Breaking News' banner flashing on their set. After three months listed as Missing in Action or Presumed Dead, the Alliance of Independent Systems Strike Carrier Halsey had returned home, bringing with it a small fleet of vessels.

Some hours later, Jacob and his compatriots returned to Dallas to continue with their surveillance, only to learn that the local police had not done their jobs as well as advertised. In the few hours that they had been gone, the retired Watcher had been abducted! Fortunately, the Watcher in question had been contacted by his former employer some days previously and had been given a locator beacon. It wasn't anything fancy like the molar implants the Immortals wore while on Earth. No, this particular locator beacon had only a five mile range and was set into the crucifix this particular Watcher wore about his neck.

With three shuttles flying over the area, and a borrowed helicopter from the local Ranger office, the signal was quickly located and triangulated to a small warehouse on the northern side of Dallas. The strike team waited for darkness to fall before moving in. Sheba waited high above in a shuttle to render assistance if it was needed, while Jake led Duncan's strike team in to retrieve the Watcher.

It was a nondescript warehouse in an area of unused buildings. Local police didn't patrol the area often, but for this night's mission, the locals had been told to stand off completely until called in. Duncan was on point, and Amanda was by his side, waiting for the chance to defeat any sort of locks on the building. Peter Sennes had proven himself to the SGC as a more than competent shot, and so Jake assigned him a sniper rifle borrowed from the local Ranger office, and put him atop a nearby cellular tower, to watch over the building and its occupants. There were other snipers out here as well, each covering a different part of the building. He had placed them all on an encrypted radio set and was listening to their chatter as he moved into position behind Duncan and Amanda. Ramirez was a few steps behind him, covering their six.

"West side. No movement."

"East side. Shadows moving in the window. Unable to determine more."

"South side. No movement."

"North side. Have team in sight. No movement otherwise."

They had come to a door and Jake took a moment to visually scan it, looking for tell-tale sensors or wires, but there were none. He nodded to Amanda who made quick work of defeating the locks. The Immortals moved in stealthily into an exterior hallway. The crept along at a near snail's pace, not wanting to alert the man or men in the interior of the building that they'd been compromised. In the distance, they could hear moaning and the dull impacts of a fist on flesh. Then they heard muffled comments and some laughter. There was more than one man in the target area.

At a juncture in the hallway, the team split up, with Duncan and Jake going left, and Amanda and Ramirez going right. Each team came onto a door that seemed to lead where they wanted to go. Miraculously the doors were both unlocked. Jake peered in cautiously and noted that the lights in the room were focused on the three men standing around an older gentleman that was tied to a chair. The older man, presumably the Watcher, was covered in bruises and blood. It made Jake angry to view it. The one advantage they had at the moment was that the lights were all pretty much casting their light at the center of the room, leaving the walls in shadow. Jake pressed the button on his radio once, indicating that Amanda and Ramirez should split up again and move in.

A moment later, they were in position to take the three men and to free the Watcher. Jake pressed the transmit button twice, waited a few seconds, then twice more, alerting the exterior team that they were preparing to move in. As one of the men in the center of the room was preparing to strike the man tied to the chair, a trio of zat blasts rang out. Three men fell to the floor, encased in writhing energy streams. Jake ran in to the center of the room while Duncan covered him from his position.

"Mr. Richards? Can you hear me?"

"I hear you just fine. Just can't see you."

"Good. Ramirez! Get a medic! Duncan, get these men secured. We'll need to move them to a safe house for interrogation."

"Who are you people?"

"Jacob Sheridan, Immortal Protectorate Division, at your service sir."

"Thanks, Sheridan. I thought fer sure these asswipes were gonna kill me!"

"Not anymore. Ramirez, you and Amanda stay with Mr. Richards. Make sure he gets anything he needs."

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Pre-Dawn hours

Safe House

South of Fort Worth

The Watcher was safely ensconced in a room at Parkland Memorial hospital, with round the clock security provided by the MP detachment at Carswell. The remaining Immortals had come in with Colonel Sheba to the safe house to get settled in before the interrogation.

A call had come in from Luna shortly after they'd brought their three prisoners there, with the news that two members of the US Government had been assigned to the case by President Ryan, as a favor to President Marius. Jake had sent Sheba to await their arrival at Carswell and to bring them back to their location. About an hour after Sheba had left, Jake directed her up to Independence Station to pick up a third person.

The sun had been up for perhaps an hour when the shuttle landed. Sheba stepped off first, followed by two middle aged men, and one tall blonde man wearing all black. Jake wondered who they could be. But for the moment, he was more concerned with making enough breakfast for everyone. His team certainly deserved a well cooked meal after last night's activities. Or was that earlier this morning? In any case, a good and hearty meal would cap off the events just right. Jake kept shooing people out of the kitchen to allow him a chance to make the meal, but Duncan did come in to make several pots of coffee and a few pitchers of fresh orange juice. Duncan watched as Jake expertly flipped stacks of pancakes on the large flat griddle in the kitchen. The bacon was drying on several sheets of paper towels, to drain away the excess grease.

His team mates were already gathered round the large table in the adjacent dining room as the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen had dragged them there.

"Jake? Where did you learn to cook in such quantities?"

"England. I pulled two straight weeks of KP duty just before my unit loaded up to cross the channel. That was the sixth of June, 1944."

"What a bloody mess that was!"

"Ain't it the truth, though! I thought I'd never get off that damned beach! All those damnable shells coming in and exploding all over the place. I swore to myself, if I got out of that mess in one piece, I wouldn't ever join up again. Kept my promise for maybe five years. I may promise myself a lot, but when it comes down to protecting my country, I do my part. Ahh, Colonel Sheba! Just in time for breakfast. Y'all pull up some extra chairs for our guests. There's plenty for everyone, so just dig in. I'm Jacob Sheridan. You three must be the 'specialists' Mako told me about?"

"Inspector Patrick O'Day, FBI."

"General John Clark, Rainbow."

"Byron. Temporarily assigned to your protectorate division. Your President thought my particular talent could be of some use to you."

"Oh? What talent might that be?"

"I'm a telepath. A P12 rated telepath, formerly assigned to the enforcement division of Psi Corps."

"Oh. Well. Ok then. Never heard of this Psi Corps, but if'n you say so, Byron. Pull up a chair, and grab yourself a plate. There's plenty to go round. After we've had our fill, we can get started with the interrogations."

"Interrogations? Plural?"

"We captured the three men sent to this fair city to terrorize it, General Clark. They've already been identified as Consortium foot soldiers, so as far as I'm concerned, anything we get out of them here today, won't be used in any court anywhere. These men are nothing but terrorists. They have a plan to upset the upcoming national elections. I'm not going to allow that to happen. These men will tell all they know. Then we will find some place to put them until they can be suitably convinced not to talk about their ordeal. Or mind wiped like the former leaders of the Consortium.

"So, Byron? What does your being a telepath mean?"

"I can read a person's mind and influence their actions and thoughts. I can read a person and tell if they are being truthful or not. As the rating increases, so does the potential one has for influencing others."

"Could you demonstrate? On me?"

"If you insist. Open your mind and relax."

Byron stared at the man in front of him. He wanted a demonstration. Well, he'd give him one. He felt the man's aura. It teemed with raw power. He had never felt anything like it before! He saw a quick succession of images flash through the man's mind. Warfare. Two centuries of warfare. Brutal imagery. Men blown apart by land mines. Men with their bodies town in two by shrapnel and cannon fire. Others losing their heads in one on one combat. The most recent image was that of a brute of a man. A man that had wanted to enslave all mortals everywhere in the universe. Images of what the brute had done. Victims flayed alive. Victims boiled in oil. Victims encased in coffin like structures with hundreds of metal spikes lining the interior. And victims beheaded. He felt physically repulsed by all that he saw.

Then the imagery changed. A lone man on horseback riding under green shady trees. A farmhouse in the distance. A burnt out ruin of a farmhouse and what looked like arrows buried into the trees and into the wood frame of the house. Sadness. He felt immense sadness at what the man had witnessed. The death of his parents at the hands of a marauding band of Indians. Byron pulled back from within his mind and opened his eyes.

"I am told that by the standards of your race, you are a young one, yet you have seen so much death and destruction? How do you stay sane?"

"One day at a time, Byron. One day at a time."

The people assembled adjourned to the patio where three men were chained to a sturdy post. The remnants of their breakfast lay close by.

"Damned Immortals! You have no idea just who you're messing with! When the others find out, they'll take all of your heads!"

"Such brave words for a man about to die. You do realize that anything that happens here will stay here, right? That the method for your interrogation will be brutal in the extreme. That because of those methods, you can never be allowed to leave here alive. Just thought you should know."

The men blanched at the implication of Sheridan's statement. But one by one, their faces turned to those of steely resolve. They would reveal nothing to this upstart of an alien creature. A creature that called itself an Immortal.

"What do you think, Ramirez? A sharp blade to start with? Removal of a few segments of fingers perhaps?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps you should start with a less vital organ, like one of which they have two apiece?"

"I like that. So, gentlemen, which will it be? Lung or kidney?"

"You're insane! We have rights! You can't do this to us!"

"Correction gentlemen. You have no rights. You don't exist. In fact, we can find no trace of your existence in any database anywhere. To me, that smells of black ops. You know the risks associated with your jobs. Just consider this a new risk to look forward to. Ramirez? Would you hand me a dagger?"

"This knife is a ceremonial dagger of Egyptian heritage. It probably saw service during the reign of some Pharaoh. You should be honored that I will use it to extract a kidney!"

"Get that damned thing away from me! What are you? An animal!"

"Talk now. Last chance. Tell you what, tell me where you were going after your business in town and I'll not take your kidney?"

"A game ranch in west Texas. Pope County. That's all I know!"

"Game ranch eh? Ok. You can keep your kidney. But since you were the one I saw beating on that man, well, I'll be generous and start with your fingers. One knuckle at a time."

Behind him, Byron finally saw what Jake was attempting to do. Though Immortals were not trained telepaths in the sense of his own training, he could still feel the waves of mental power emanating from Sheridan. He was attempting to impart the images of torture onto the prisoner's mind. It was a decent attempt, but one that would not succeed without his more skilled talents. So he helped him, just a little.

The other two prisoners saw their friend scream in pain and anguish as he lost the tips of all fingers on his right hand. As their interrogator was preparing to move on to the next segment of the bloody fingers, the prisoner on the left spoke rapidly and loudly.

"It wasn't our idea! We were ordered to do these things by a very powerful man. He wants to be the next President of the United States! He promised us all Immortality once your secret was figured out! We would become like you! Stop! Please!"

"No. I want to know where the rest of your killing teams are."

"New York. Chicago. DC. Denver. And us here!"

"Ok. We'll stop after you tell me one more thing."

"What?"

"When are you supposed to arrive at the game ranch, and what is the name of the ranch?"

"A week from yesterday. Buck's Game Ranch."

"Thank you very much for the information. Inspector O'Day? Would it be possible to place these three someplace safe until we can resolve this matter?"

"Let me answer that. I think we can arrange something. Let me make a phone call."

"Of course, General."

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

"Foley."

"Ed. It's John. I need a favor."

"If it's in my power, sure. What do you need?"

"A place to stash three of the people responsible for the nationwide killings. There are more to track down, but we have three in our custody and well, Jack asked me to help on this."

"Where are you?"

"A ranch on the shores of Lake Alvarado in Texas."

"Give me a sec. How long you been in on this case, John?"

"Jack called me yesterday. Asked me to help out. Are we secure?"

"Always."

"One of these guys just implicated Kinsey. Not by name, but in a pretty decent description."

"Oh shit. He's the Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee! Ok. Here's a place for you to stash those three. There's a small town in west Texas called Salt Flat. We have a secure facility there. What are you driving?"

"Lunar Shuttle."

"Ok. I'll get on the phone to the manager there. The facility is just outside of town. Set your transponder to 242.46, and you'll pick up the correct beacon."

"Thanks Ed."

"Anytime, John. Anytime."

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

"Alright. I've got a place for you. And it's in west Texas as well."

"Good. General, if you would take charge of the prisoners and get them to their destination, we'll go on to Pope county and set up a base of operations."

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West Texas

Pope County

Colonel Sheba had taken one of the shuttles and flown to Salt Flat, Texas. On her shuttle was General John Clark with the three prisoners. Duncan and Amanda had also gone along to watch over the prisoners. The rest had piled into the two remaining shuttles and flown to Pope County. Shuttles two and three had spilt apart over the county to do a quick and dirty mapping of the area and both had been tagged by a powerful airborne search radar. A few moments later, both had been tagged by a very powerful ground based radar.

"SGC. Hammond speaking."

"Sir. Jake Sheridan here. Just a quick question for you sir. We're over Pope County in Texas. The trail of these killers has lead us here. Both of my shuttles have just been 'tagged' by both a ground based and an airborne radar platform. But I swear sir, we can't see a damned thing either in the air or on the ground. Does the military have something going on in this area?"

"Do you know the type of radar, Mr. Sheridan?"

"The database indicates the airborne one was an AN/APG-66. The other one is AN/SPY-1."

"One moment while I check with NORAD."

Jake waited exactly four minutes before he had his answer.

"Mr. Sheridan. The AN/APG-66 type radar set is commonly installed on the F-16, and NORAD has none operating in your area at the moment. The AN/SPY-1 radar; well, that one is commonly found on an AEGIS class cruiser. While there are some test facilities that use them from ground based installations, there are none in your area. Please keep me updated. NORAD wants to know the reason for the inquiry."

"As soon as we figure out what's going on sir, I'll let you know. Thanks for the quick response. You have yourself a good day sir."

"Likewise, Ranger."

The fact that both shuttles had been tagged when operating in their supposed stealth modes had Jake a bit worried. The types of radar that had tagged him were also something of a concern, but as he could neither see any aircraft nor any ocean near him, he put the matter to the back of his mind. They put down in a rest area some tens of miles from the nearest town and it was decided that Jake and Byron would go in first using one of the two Hummers that had been left there for them for that purpose. The Air Force MPs had closed off the roads leading into the rest facility and there were now armed guards at the entrance and exit. Signs on the road leading to the rest station had been changed to reflect its unavailability. Both shuttles were now under camouflaged nets that had been strung through the few scraggly trees the station offered.

While the others were getting their equipment unpacked and ready for use, Jake and Byron drove the remaining few miles into town. It was a small town like any other in West Texas. The main street down the middle of town was also the highway. The sign post at the town limits read 'Boganville. Pop. 219'. There was a barber shop and drugstore that promised a lunch counter, a small office whose sign read 'Boganville Weekly', and a lot of people walking about. Strangely enough, almost all of them were dressed in white. White shirts or white pants, or white jackets. It was the damnedest thing Jake had ever seen. He pulled up in front of the local Sheriff's office and parked the HumVee. Both men exited the vehicle and entered the small Sheriff's station. A bell jingled overhead as the door opened.

"Howdy! You folks just passing through?"

"Something like that. Name's Jake Sheridan, Texas Ranger. This is my partner Byron Atkins. Is the Sheriff available?"

"You got her. Sheriff Caitlin O'Shannessy. How can I help you, Ranger?"

"Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff. We'd like some information about a game ranch in these here parts. Buck's Game Ranch I believe it was."

"Oh Lord. What've they done now?"

"Done? They've had trouble before?"

"Some years back, mid 80s it was. The Sheriff back then, Bogan was his name; town's named for his family. He used to pick up drifters and use them for hunts. He made a lot of money before some vigilantes took the Sheriff out. But things have been pretty quiet out there since then."

"I see. Might I ask you another question?"

"Shoot."

"Why do all the folks in this town have a thing for white?"

"Oh that. There's a small research firm up the road. All their employees wear something white. It's a company thing, or so I'm told. They like to come in to town to eat at LuLu's across the road there. Best BBQ this side of the Mississippi!"

"I'll take your word for it, Sheriff. Say, there wouldn't happen to be a motel or something round here?"

"Motel burned down last year. Hasn't been rebuilt. Sorry. Next town over has one though. About sixty miles as the crow flies."

"Thanks. How about a camping spot?"

"Well, we got an empty lot where the motel was. You can camp there if'n ya want. No law against it that I can think of."

"Thanks Sheriff. We'll be talking again soon. So what do ya say Byron, lunch?"

"Excellent suggestion, Jacob."

The two of them walked out of the Sheriff's office. Jake felt that the Sheriff had told the truth but had skirted a whole lot more than she let on. But while Jake might have only felt that, Byron knew it for certain. The minute they were in the HumVee and the privacy circuits engaged, Byron turned to Jake.

"She didn't tell the whole truth. I got a few images. She was broadcasting rather loudly in there. When you mentioned the people dressed in white, an image of a man dressed entirely in white came to her mind. A man with glasses and an eye patch. When she spoke of vigilantes, the image that was on her mind was of a big black and white…helicopter, I believe is the term. A helicopter that fired guns and rockets of some type at the former Sheriff."

"Interesting. She said it happened in the middle 1980s. Did she lie about that?"

"No. Why?"

"I was in the El Paso office during the 80s. If there had been a helicopter with guns and rockets shooting up a town, the Rangers would've heard about it. But nothing comes to mind. Hell, a helo with any kind of armament is military. The military doesn't just go off shooting up small town Sheriff's Office for any kind of reason. It might be something worth looking into. Let's head on back to our 'hotel'."

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At the Same Time

Sheriff O'Shannessy had wasted no time in peaking out the window to get a look at the two Rangers. The HumVee was military issue which in of itself was odd. The second Ranger though, he had her really spooked though. He just stood there the entire time while Sheridan asked his questions, almost as if he were reading her mind. But that's silly! No one can read minds.

"Briggs."

"Michael, it's me, Caitlin."

"Caitlin! You've been too much of a stranger of late. You never write or visit. And now, a phone call out of the blue. Everything's ok?"

"For the moment, everything's fine. A couple of Texas Rangers just left here."

"Rangers? In Boganville? What did they want?"

"They were asking about the game ranch. And the thing is Michael, they left here in a military HumVee. It even has one of the tracking numbers stenciled on the rear bumper."

"Civilian law enforcement riding around in a military issue vehicle? That's almost unheard of. Did you get that number?"

"Yeah. Six-One-Two-Five-Nine-Five."

The man known as Archangel scribbled a note to an aide to check on that vehicle. The aide went to a nearby computer and accessed the military's database. The intelligence agency known in higher circles as the Firm had access to almost every database on the planet. They were still trying to figure out how to access those files that weren't on any kind of network anywhere. But their biggest challenge had come recently. They wanted, desperately wanted in fact, to access the databases of the Immortals and the Colonials. His aide handed him a slip of paper with the requested information

"Ok. According to the military, that particular vehicle is on loan to an Air Force outfit. Hmmm. Maybe it's time I went to visit you. I'll be there tonight. With String."

"Ok. I'll be waiting."

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By the time Jake and Byron returned to the rest station, Colonel Sheba and the others had already arrived. While Byron went to get something to drink, Jake went over to talk to Clark.

"General, might I have a word?"

"Protector Sheridan. Call me John."

"Call me Jake then. Everyone else does."

"What's on your mind Jake?"

"Byron and I went in to speak to the local Sheriff about the game ranch. She was edgy and I picked up on it. Like she wasn't telling the whole truth. She gave us a pack of lies about what happened to her predecessor. Said a group of vigilantes gunned him down. The only thing truthful about her statement was the gunning down part. Byron picked up on her thoughts. He said she was 'broadcasting rather loudly'. The images he got were of a black and white helicopter with guns and rockets shooting at the Sheriff."

"Sounds military. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Something odd. It's a small town, population 219. But there just happens to be a research firm just north of town. I noticed that a lot of the townsfolk were wearing white. Dresses, pants, shirts, jackets. At least something on them was white. When I asked the Sheriff about that, Byron says an image of a man dressed entirely in white, with glasses and an eye patch flashed through her mind. And another thing, on our way here, we flew over the county to make some maps. We got 'tagged' by both airborne and ground based radars. NORAD, via the SGC, said that the airborne set goes with an F-16, while the ground based one belongs on an AEGIS cruiser."

"Ok. Now that is definitely weird. Let me check with my own sources to see if they know of anything."

"Ok. I'm going to go speak with the guard detachment we have. Something about this place sets the hairs on the back of my neck to rise up. Don't know what it is though that's causing it."

"Hmph. Trust those feelings Jake. Those kinds of feelings got me out of a lot of trouble in 'Nam."

"You were there, eh?"

"Yep. SOG."

"1st of the 7th. Ia Drang."

"That was a hell of a mess, or so I heard at the time."

"It was worse than that. Much worse."

"Ok. I've got a call to make."

"See you in a bit."

Whatever was making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up to attention was also affecting the Air Force detachment that was providing security for him and his team. After a quick chat with the Sergeant commanding the unit, Jake authorized the breaking out of weapons to all parties. It was just a feeling, but his feelings had saved him enough times for him to trust them implicitly.

The night was turning cold. Jake and his team sat around a campfire discussing strategy for the coming days. They all knew there was a serious deadline looming in front of them. The interrogations a few days before had revealed the coming meeting of the killing teams at the Game Ranch. Numerous options were put out and discarded as undoable, but they knew that they had to come up with something to infiltrate the ranch.

The map of the ranch showed a high perimeter game fence, and there were some strange readings on the sensors of that particular fence. It would require a stealthy recon to examine the fence up close and personal. General Clark intimated that some military installations had ground sensors around them, and that if this game ranch was indeed owned or rented by the Consortium, that the strange readings could very well be some sort of echo from that type of sensor. It put a thought into Amanda's head, and she went into one of the shuttles to pull up the sensor information from the military nets they had access to. She emerged a short time later with her discoveries.

"Jake, I checked on what General Clark mentioned. If this place does have ground sensors, then we could be in for some serious trouble making a ground approach."

"How so?"

"From what I could find out, those sensors have a radial range of approximately one mile, and odds are they are placed so that there is plenty of overlap in coverage. Usually they're set only to detect heavier objects like vehicles, but out here, they could be set to detect something lighter, like us for instance."

"Ok. That makes a ground approach rather difficult. Any suggestions?"

Before anyone could speak, there was a far off howl, like a wolf or coyote, and the search radar on the shuttle began screaming for attention. In one movement, everyone gathered around the fire ran to the shuttles. The screens showed a fast moving object, but whatever it was, it was heavily stealthed. The radar sets were having a difficult time tracking the object, but the speed indication was above Mach 1.

"Stealth fighter?"

"Can't be. The F-117A is only subsonic."

"What about the bomber version?"

"Also subsonic."

"So what is it, General Clark?"

"I have no clue Jake. There's nothing in the US Military inventory that's stealthed and flies above Mach 1."

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Research Firm

North of Boganville, TX

Caitlin had heard from one of the townsfolk that the rest stop south of town was closed for repairs. It had struck her as odd and so she had called in to a friend at the Texas Department of Highways and asked about the maintenance schedule. She had been informed that nothing was on the calendar for her neck of the woods, and she had passed that info along to Michael. He had, in turn, passed the info onto the String and St. John when they had arrived to pick him up for the hop to Texas.

As they approached the area of the rest stop, Stringfellow Hawke, pilot of the advanced helicopter ordered the whisper mode activated, and the quiet noise of the rotors became even quieter; less than a whisper in the night sky. They had hovered just out of visual range of the encampment and taken numerous photographs that were saved for later inspection. As they came in a little closer, the sensors aboard the helicopter detected the energy of an active radar sweep.

"String, active radar from the target area."

"Type?"

"AN/APG-77?"

"Was that a question, Michael?"

"Those are only supposed to be on the new F-22 Raptors. The targets down there sure as hell aren't Raptors!"

"Let's head back to base and go over the photos. Maybe Cait has found out something else."

"Sure."

The helicopter had rocketed away at over Mach 1, its engines screaming in their characteristic wolf-like howl.

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Encampment

"Whatever it was, it's gone now. Radar is quiet. Let's turn in. I'm gonna fire off a message to Mako on Luna to bring him up to date. I think we need to plan on being up and around by say, oh-eight-hundred?"

"Sounds good to me Jake. Means I get to sleep in a bit."

"Night John. Night all."

Jake engaged the privacy mode on the video communications array and contact Mako. He was surprised to find him still at his desk on Luna.

"What news Sheridan?"

"We're in place in an encampment just outside of the city of Boganville, Texas. It's a small place, population of 219. But there just happens to be some sort of research firm located just north of town. Our encampment is just south of town. Also, not sure if it's related to the matter at hand, but twice now, we've been 'painted' by radar sweeps that from everything we can find out, is either from an F-16, or an Aegis class cruiser. Now, considering just how far we are from the nearest ocean, I'm going to rule out the cruiser, but if it was an F-16, then it's also stealthed. That tells me it's probably some experimental model the military is testing, but General Clark is unable to find out for certain. Maybe you can discreetly poke around from up there?"

"I'll see what I can find out. What about the target?"

"That's going to be a tough nut to crack. We over flew the target area. There's a high fence around the perimeter, and what looks like ground based sensors inside and outside of the fence line. Unless we're invited in, it's going to be damned hard to sneak in. Those ground based sensors will pick us up a mile out. If we inserted a team via shuttle, well, we may have stealth tech on the shuttles, but they're still visible to the naked eye. We're still going over the data, but we're facing a time crunch. The other foot soldiers of the Consortium, according to what the interrogations revealed, are due to arrive at the game ranch by week's end."

"I'll check with the President. Maybe there's another way in. The man brought back a lot of technology from wherever he was, so maybe there's a technological way around the insertion problem."

"Thanks, Mako. By the way, just where did that guy Byron come from? I mean, he's a bit on the silent side, and I sense a bit of rage buried beneath his cool exterior. He said he's a Psi Cop, which I really have no idea what that means?"

"Apparently our President made a lot of friends wherever he was. Byron is a friend of someone he met. There are more like him, telepaths that is. They are fleeing persecution by their government for their special abilities. The Council has offered them asylum, and since he was a law enforcement officer, Marius asked me to give him a job, while he thinks on the Council's offer."

"Well, whether he's telepathic, or just damned insightful, he did help during the interrogations and during the interview with the local Sheriff today. If he stays on at Luna, it would be a good idea to hire him on permanently for the Protectorate Division."

"I'll take that under advisement, Sheridan. I'll get back to you after I've spoken with the President. Luna out."

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The Next Day

0630

The insistent chime from the communications array woke up Sheridan a little earlier than he had expected. The sun was just beginning to peek out on the horizon, but already the cool of the night was vanishing in the face of the building heat. It promised to be another hot day in West Texas. He looked through the cockpit window to the small seating area outside the shuttle and saw that one of the security detachment was making breakfast for everyone. 'I could certainly use a good cup of coffee' thought Sheridan.

"Good morning, Jake."

"Morning, Mako. Anything good for me?"

"Well, the Protectorate Division has been authorized the usage of some new equipment. Under Presidential authority, you are to return the three shuttles you have now to Luna to exchange them for one, possibly two SF model Peregrines. I really think you'll only need one, but the President has authorized two for you if you so desire. It is a highly modified version of the Peregrine Gunboat now in use by the Alliance fleet."

"A Gunboat? Uhm, I don't think we need that much firepower here?"

"Still, the Council is insistent that all PD personnel be issued these craft. They are more maneuverable than a standard LE shuttle, and they have more firepower in the event of an attack on the solar system. It has 3 decks; command and medical, engineering and berthing, and troop deployment. It has the standard stealth package of the LE shuttles, and it has a cloaking device that will render it invisible to the naked eye."

"Ok, that solves part of our insertion problem."

"There's more. The President and the Council have authorized the usage of personal cloaking fields for PD personnel. There aren't a whole lot of them in stock as yet, as they are rather low on the priority building list. We've been given six of them. We've also been given six 'mimic' devices. These will allow you to appear, at least externally, as any other person on the planet. Unfortunately, they have a very short display life. Only thirty minutes."

"Well, even thirty minutes can mean success in this situation. I'll wake up the other pilots and we'll head up there for our new ship. Only one, I think Mako."

"As you say, Jacob. I'll expect you within the hour."

"Sheridan out."

Jake walked out of the shuttle and made a beeline for the coffee pot. He inhaled the aroma like it was the nectar of the Gods and drank deeply from his first mug.

"Damn Sergeant! I haven't had coffee that good since I was in green like you! I thought I made good coffee, but that's really good. Is there a secret?"

"Were you Air Force, sir?"

"Nah. 1st of the 7th. Viet Nam."

"An officer?"

"Hell no. A corporal, if you can believe it."

The Sergeant, who had been calling him 'sir' for so long, had himself a good laugh. He felt more at ease around this Immortal now.

"A corporal. I'll be damned. I'd a thought you Immortals would be officers or some such."

"Others maybe. But I worked hard to stay a non-com. I took good care of the men under me, and made sure 'my' Sergeants always survived. But let me tell you what, that damn fiasco that's known now as Viet Nam, was a nightmare of Biblical proportions. And a clusterfuck of galactic size."

"Amen to that, sir."

"Call me Jake. Or if you have to use a title, try Ranger. I've been a Texas Ranger for so long that I don't think I'll get used to not being called that."

"Alright, Ranger. The secret to the coffee is to add a bit of salt to the brew mixture. It intensifies the flavor quite a bit."

"I can taste it. I think we're gonna need it today. Make sure there's always a full pot around over the next few days."

"You got it."

One by one, the rest of the team filtered in to the eating/seating area. Clark took one sip of the coffee and mumbled something that sounded like 'Port Gee', but Jake wasn't sure. He briefed the other two pilots on the call from Luna and the three of them went to the shuttles in preparation to leave. Ramirez was left in charge of the strike team, while Inspector O'Day and General Clark said something about making a supply run into town.

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Luna

0800 CST

When Colonel Sheba had gotten her first look at the new Gunboat, all she had said was something about 'getting one for herself'. It was shaped like a fighter. It looked and smelled like a fighter, and later on, when they were flying it back to Earth, it performed like a fighter. If Jake didn't know any better, he'd swear she was in love with the thing. It had a full weapons suite that made the LE shuttles look like children's toys. A multi-barreled rail gun under the nose, something called pulse phaser cannons in the wing tips, and four micro-torpedo launchers in each wing, and a multi-barreled rail gun mounted on the ventral or bottom side of the craft, to either side of the rear loading hatch. Those last two guns were designed to provide covering fire for troops during recovery or deployment. But it was the personal cloaking fields that got Jake's attention. He put one on and activated it and promptly disappeared from view. He could see all around him clearly, but while Duncan could still feel his Quickening, he could not see him. 'With a dozen of these, the South would've won the war!' Jake thought.

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Encampment

0930 CST

The small ship came down in full stealth mode, with cloaking field engaged. It decloaked after it was on the ground, seated on its landing gear. The others in the campsite were startled to see the small craft in their midst, but they were expecting it. As had been done with the shuttles, camouflage netting was quickly thrown over the ship, disguising it from overhead. Clark and O'Day had left a short time earlier on their 'supply' run into town.

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

Clark and O'Day walked into the local diner and ordered some coffee and biscuits. Both were watching the crowd around them. Too many people dressed all in white. It would've been an odd thing to see in DC, let alone here in the middle of nowhere. Both looked up as a woman with fiery red hair approached their table. Both noticed the badge on her chest.

"You gentlemen passing through town?"

"Yes ma'am. On our way to the Guadalupe Mountains to do a bit of hiking. We had business in Odessa, but we got done early."

"I see. Well, hope you two have fun hiking. Y'all have yourself a good day now."

Clark looked at O'Day and saw the agreement in his eyes. The Sheriff had rather casually interrogated them. Both also agreed with Jacob. There was more to this town that than what was evident on its surface. They stopped at a small grocery store across the main street from the diner to pick up the 'supplies' the Sergeant had requested.

It didn't take them long to return to the encampment. Both shared their observations with Sheridan's team. Byron put in his own two cents. During the ruckus the night before, his mind had touched on the minds of three others, but he said those minds were not in the encampment. He could only guess that what ever aircraft was overhead had been the source, and because of that, he speculated that the aircraft had been close by. Jake took over the meeting and began handing out some new equipment.

"Alright folks. I have no idea what that aircraft was last night. Luna is unable to find anything out. General Clark is unable to find anything out. So either we have something really weird, or the military isn't telling anyone what they're testing. Personally, I'm hoping for the military answer, cause I think my life is weird enough as it is.

Next item. The new Peregrine is a nice little ship, able to defend itself against anything we might encounter here on Earth, and anything Anubis or the Cylons might decide to send our way. Colonel Sheba is the only combat qualified pilot we have, so I'm giving her control of the aircraft. Sergeant Williams, the head of the Air Force detachment providing security to our campsite, is going to loan us two of his men to assist Sheba on the flight deck. They're in there now going over the systems.

"The Council has authorized all of us to draw weapons. While we were on Luna, word came in of another trio of killings. At the moment, we are unsure if they are related to the case at hand or if one of the killing teams was running behind schedule. As such, the Council acting through Mako have authorized the use of some new weapons. The first is something called a Type-1 phaser. President Marius called it a 'Cricket' but I have really no idea why, though. It's small and can be easily concealed somewhere on your person. It has eight settings, from light stun to heavy disintegration. It has a small battery, and is good for one hundred shots on the heaviest setting and four hundred on the lightest setting.

"Next is something called a Phased Plasma Gun or PPG. It has three settings; stun, kill, and burn. It has a smaller magazine, about two inches long called a cap. I want everyone wearing these in a holster, wherever you feel it the most comfortable. Try to keep your weapons on stun, unless there's no other choice. We've also been issued the heavier, rifle version of the PPG, called a Phased Plasma Rifle, or PPR. The cap on the PPG has a capacity of twelve stun shots, whereas the PPR has 64 stun shots. The PPR can also fire plasma and stun grenades. So if we need the additional firepower, we'll have it.

"The best part is that all of these weapons will be coded to your unique DNA, so if the bad guys take it away from you, all that will happen is that they'll get a shock; enough to drop them on the spot, like a Taser round.

In the event that one of us is hurt and requires medical attention, the medical bay on the ship has something called an Emergency Medical Hologram, or EMH. I'm told that the EMH can treat any injury better than the best equipped hospital on the planet.

"The last item is something that will help us on our first infiltration mission today. Our new ship has been equipped with a stealth field that renders it invisible to both RADAR and LIDAR, and a cloaking field to make it invisible to the naked eye. We've also been issued six personal cloaking fields. I'll walk into the ship and activate it. Tell me if you can see me?"

Jake walked into the ship, switched on the field, and walked out. The Immortals in the group could still sense his presence, and Byron could feel his mind, but none could see him. The field bent all visible light around the subject, rendering the wearer invisible to the naked eye. A quick check via a scanner showed the infra-red spectrum was also gone, showing no heat source where there should be one. Jake made a few circuits around the seating area before switching the device off. Plans were made to infiltrate with a three man team via the cloaked ship that evening. They would plant listening devices in as many rooms as possible, along with a few covert cameras to catch the men in question with the magic of digital film.

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Research Center

The Firm

North of Boganville

1000 hours CST

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs was a unique man among the intelligence community. At the ripe 'old age' of fifty, he'd survived a goodly part of the bad old days of the Cold War. But not without scars, visible or otherwise. He'd seen too many good men and women killed, all in the name of protecting the US and its interests. And now all of that was over and the US and its former enemy, the Soviet Union, were supposed to be the best of friends. Hell, even Sergey Golovko, the head of what used to be the KGB, was friends with their own President! For the first time in his life, there was a man sitting in the seat of power in the United States that understood intelligence operations. The new President had increased the budget at the CIA, and that had trickled down to his own agency, known as The Firm.

When the time came to retire the aircraft the Firm had built, the aircraft code named Airwolf it had instead been upgraded because of the influx of funds. The RADAR had been upgraded as had most of the systems, making it still as formidable an aircraft as the day it had rolled out of the construction hangar in California. It was unfortunate that with the discovery of alien technology in the hands of the Air Force, and now plainly evident in the solar system in the hands of the Immortals on Luna and the Colonials on Mars, that the helicopter known as Airwolf was no longer unique.

Caitlin O'Shannessy had walked in with news of two strangers passing through town. Though she hadn't gotten their names, she did say their posture screamed 'COP' to her. Whoever was interested in Boganville was trying to be discreet about it, but failing miserably. Michael pointed at one of his aides, Marella, and she activated the wall screen and dimmed the lights. The first image was of the encampment just south of town.

"Infra-red showed a number of heat sources from the area you scanned last night. Looks like about a dozen people gathered around a campfire. These scattered six sources might be a roving patrol of some kind. There are also three faint sources here, here, and here, that may be vehicles of some kind. The telemetry you recorded has been verified as an active sweep of an AN/APG-77 radar set, of the type commonly found in the F-22 Raptor. Odds are, it was in passive mode, but it seems it might have picked up Airwolf at the point when you started picking up the active targeting sweeps.

"The next images come from the surveillance cameras around town. This is from early yesterday, when the two Rangers showed up. The vehicle they're in, while not overtly military, is still military. The dark haired man has been positively identified as Jacob Sheridan, a former Texas Ranger, now living on Luna. The blonde man is a cipher. We can't seem to find anything at all about him. He's not associated with any law enforcement agency that we can determine.

"These images are from this morning. The rugged looking one we've identified as John Clark. From what we have access to, his official rank is that of Brigadier General, and he is supposedly currently in England, where he serves as the 'Six' in the Rainbow unit. The man opposite him is Patrick O'Day, a senior inspector with the FBI. Both of them are supposedly good friends with President Ryan. During the attempted kidnapping of the President's children late last year, Inspector O'Day happened to rescue the youngest of the President's children. Whatever is going on here, these men in the photos are definitely some heavy hitters."

"Speculation?"

"Caitlin did say that the Ranger and his partner were asking about the Game Ranch, so something is going on that we need to be aware of. We have a Lunar Resident, who odds are is an Immortal, the head of a multi-national anti-terrorist unit, and an inspector from the FBI that we've positively identified. Maybe we need to take a look around the Game Ranch ourselves?"

"I think you're right Marella. Let's plan it out for tonight. String, you and your brother take Airwolf and get as much info as you can. I think Cait and Marella should go in the front door. Cait in the capacity of friendly local Sheriff helping out, Ms. Marella who is looking for a place to hold a corporate retreat?"

"Works for me Michael."

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Buck's Game Ranch

1830 CST

The sun had finally gone down in the west. Caitlin and Marella had driven up to the main gate and had been let in by the staff at the Ranch. There were no other guests at the moment, and so the staff had treated the lovely lady in the white dress to the grand tour of the facilities, extolling on the virtues of West Texas for the corporate retreat she was attempting to organize. Outside, a hunter would be hard pressed to hear the silent whispering 'chop-chop-chop' of the stealthed helicopter operating in whisper mode, against the utter stillness of the twilight West Texas sky.

Michael sat at the engineer's position in the small-ish back cabin of the helicopter, watching over the various digital readouts and screens. For the era when the helicopter was originally created, the multi-function screens were a thing of the future. But now, they were more and more commonplace aboard military equipment. St. John Hawke sat in the co-pilot's seat, paying attention to the outside terrain, while his brother, Stringfellow, saw to the actual piloting.

"Picking up an intermittent signal on radar. Almost like an echo of us. Maybe those craft we took pictures of last night?"

"Give me one active sweep."

"Ok."

Elsewhere, but in the same area of sky, the cloaked Peregrine was hovering over a spot near the main buildings of the ranch. A three man team had been deployed. Amanda, Duncan, and Clark had gone in to see what they could see and to plant as many audio and video bugs as they possibly could. All three were wearing the cloaking fields, and so were invisible to any staff they came across. Colonel Sheba was in the command chair, piloting the craft, with Corporal Joe Spears at the sensor/navigation console, and Sergeant David Dennis at the engineering/weapons console.

"Colonel, picking up an active radar. Airborne. Very near to us."

"Can you pin point it, Spears?"

"Yes! Got it. Bearing 322 relative. Distance three-quarters of a mile? Nothing on visual though."

"Continue to monitor. As soon as the strike team gets back, we'll try to see who it is."

"Roger that ma'am."

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Sheriff O'Shannessy was busily jabbering away with one of the staff about the local events or lack thereof in Boganville, while Marella was taking the tour of the facilities, and attempting to be as covert as possible in placing the audio bugs. Duncan saw her as she placed one of them and nonchalantly picked one up so that they could examine it later. Clark and he were placing the recording devices in the rooms and hallways, while Amanda was examining the security systems to see what all the ranch had. There were two teams there, but neither team knew about the other.

It didn't take very long to accomplish their mission for the night, and the strike team withdrew, almost five minutes ahead of the other team. Duncan led the other two back to the pick-up point and waited for the Peregrine to land and open the hatch for their withdrawal. By time they were back aboard, Spears had picked up the airborne target moving away at close to the speed of sound. Sheba made her decision quickly and followed the craft. It flew away to the west before turning north then back to the east, following a route designed to throw off any pursuit. But the cloaked ship stayed with them the entire time, making Coldsmith-Briggs think they did have some sort of atmospheric echo on the radar. Even when the helicopter settled down and taxied into the hidden hangar, he still thought it was an echo.

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Rest Area Encampment

2030 CST

The Peregrine was safely covered under the camouflaged netting and the team was meeting to discuss the presence of the helicopter. Clark had seen the woman at the ranch as she placed the bugs and was looking at the one Duncan had recovered. The woman had been unfamiliar to him, but she moved with the ease of a well-practiced professional. Now he was wondering if there was some other agency looking into the movements of the Consortium, or if their own movements had some how been revealed. He'd gotten on a secure circuit to Director Foley and had sent him the best images they had of the helicopter and of the listening device. The call back had taken less than a minute.

"John, what the hell have you people stumbled onto?"

"What do you mean?"

"The helicopter was supposedly an experimental model built for a little known intelligence agency back in the early to mid 1980's. It was reported destroyed during a weapons test. There have been rumors since then that it wasn't. If it is that helicopter, then a certain agency chief is gonna be brought in before me to explain why it's been kept a secret this long. As to the listening device, it looks like a standard NSA model. They're not running any ops in your area. I just checked on that. Whoever is out there has access to some powerful equipment. I'm gonna have to call Jack on this one. Better give Ding the heads-up…just in case."

"Affirmative. Get back to me either way."

"Count on it."

Back outside, Clark revealed most of what he had learned about the mystery craft. If they left a minimal force at the encampment, they could stage a raid of the so-called 'research firm' within the hour. Duncan's strike team had a reasonable amount of covert combat experience, but Clark would feel better with Ding's team on the ground. Course, since they had access to the Peregrine, that team could be on site with very short notice. Especially since he'd already passed along an alert message to his unit.

As it turned out, President Ryan decided to wait on using a Rainbow team. So Clark went with what he had and at 2130 hours, the strike team loaded up onto the Peregrine and took off. They were in position over the target area within minutes of take-off. Colonel Sheba was holding them at a distance of three hundred feet off the ground, but darting from one position to another, conducting a quick active sweep, and then darting to a new position. She was trying to entice the other aircraft into perhaps playing a bit, before moving in with the strike team.

Sure enough, by the time the Peregrine had completed its sixth dart and sweep maneuver, they saw the helicopter lift off and began a quartering search over the small research center. Jake and Clark were standing behind Sheba, and now Clark spoke.

"Attention to the unidentified helicopter. This Brigadier General John Clark. As I see things, we can do this one of two ways. That small helo of yours and my strike craft can duke it out, we'll win, and then we'll land a strike team to take your facility. Or we can talk in the open, where ever you'd like. Your ball."

"Our ball, then. Land here. We'll pull our security troops back. You can stay in your 'strike craft'. We'll stay in ours. Contact us on one-two-eight-point-nine, if you agree."

"We agree. Landing now."

The helicopter settled down onto its main gear, and all three occupants looked out at the space in front of them. They were waiting for some sort of aircraft to appear, and a few heartbeats later it did. Only it didn't land, it just sort of phased into existence not more than twelve feet in front of them. Each man in the helicopter appraised the craft in front of them differently. Michael Coldsmith-Briggs had the advantage of looking over the sensor data that told him the only thing in front of him was a small bird. St. John Hawke saw a craft built to fly among the stars; it looked fierce and mean and he had a sudden urge to fly one. Stringfellow Hawke saw a craft that was a match to his beloved Airwolf. The main gun underneath the nose was deployed, though he guessed it was always like that.

The wings of the strange craft before them were slightly down swept, and there were indentations on each wing; four indentations that they each guessed were meant to house weapons of some sort.

"General Clark, you copy?"

"We read you five-by-five. Showing a good encryption link on this side."

"Roger that. So, how do we start this?"

"Well, a name might be a good way."

"You can call me Archangel."

"Alright. Archangel. Tell me sir, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that. What interest does the 'Six' of a multi-national anti-terrorist organization have in West Texas? For that matter, what about the FBI inspector you were traveling with? Or the Lunar resident?"

"You seem to know quite a bit about us, Archangel. Perhaps you can tell me why your lovely female agent was placing NSA issued listening devices at the Game Ranch? Or why you are in a helicopter that was supposedly destroyed during a weapon's test in the mid 1980s?"

"So you know something of us too. How about a face to face meeting? Just you and me?"

"I'm game. After all, the firepower of this ship can single handedly lay waste to this facility here and to your helo. I'll meet you outside. Channel off."

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The two men stared at one another for a moment before either one spoke. The man calling himself Archangel had read over what little of the file was available on General Clark. He'd had a long and storied past with the agency having been recruited as a field agent by the late Admiral Greer, who himself had been a legend in the intelligence community. But the file on the man known as Archangel had not been available to Clark. Or to Director Foley for that matter. And that was something that needed correcting, as Clark saw it.

"So what is your interest in us, Archangel?"

"Let's just say I tend to get curious whenever strangers are poking around town. The research center here is charged with developing a lot of new tech for our armed forces. What's your interest in Buck's Game Ranch?"

"That, I'm afraid, is a matter of planetary security. But do tell your operative that she should be a bit more discreet when placing listening devices. My team mate saw her place the item, and he picked it up."

"Considering we were monitoring her the entire time and that we didn't see anyone else in the room, I find that highly unlikely."

"Doubting me is not a good idea at the moment. Show yourself to the nice Archangel."

Coldsmith-Briggs was momentarily taken aback by the sudden apparition of another person. The very air around him seemed to shimmer for a second as the man with dark hair appeared, only to shimmer again as he vanished. A few seconds later, he appeared again, only this time, Archangel was staring at himself! Then the doppelganger disappeared, vanishing into the night.

"You definitely have my attention now, General. It looks like you have access to the technologies of the so-called Ancients. I think you just might swing a mighty big bat."

"I've been known to play a bit. So how about we both back off some and meet at, say, 0900 for coffee at that nice little diner in town? My security people and yours can clear the place out before hand and sweep it if necessary."

"Nine a.m. it is."

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LuLu's Diner

Boganville, Texas

0900

It was amazing what one could do with a credit card in a small town like this, especially one drawn on the Immortal Bank of Luna. Jake had flashed the card at the owner and the diner suddenly became his for the duration of this meeting. Duncan's team had swept the diner for listening devices, then took up guard positions outside and inside. It was a testament to their combined paranoia over the current case when John Clark placed what he termed 'interference generators' around the restaurant and on the windows, to prevent anyone else from listening in. The shades were drawn down over the windows, to prevent anyone from visually recording the meeting for later lip-reader analysis.

They had worked quickly after their arrival, and had arranged a table and chairs in the middle of the small diner. The PPR rifles were plainly evident on the guards roving outside and all those inside wore PPGs in holsters that were obvious.

Their guests arrived at three minutes to nine, in a three vehicle convoy. Outside the diner, Amanda and Cierdwyn watched as men in white suits, with heavy weapons exited the lead and trail vehicles and took up positions opposite them. Though both women were holding PPR rifles, both also had their swords across their backs. Three men and two women walked into the diner where there were six people seated and having coffee, chatting amiably. Jake's team all stood up when the others walked in.

"Good morning, General. On time I see. That's a good start. How's the coffee this morning?"

"I don't know. We brought our own. You're welcome to some though."

"Morning, Ranger."

"Morning Sheriff. I didn't expect to see you here this morning."

"Oh, I've known Archangel for a number of years, and since this is my town, I felt I had to be here."

"Ok."

"I looked up your record. Impressive. Are you still with the Rangers?"

"No ma'am. I retired some months ago, after the news about Immortality broke. With that in the open, well, I didn't have to hide who I am anymore. Now I'm with the Immortal Protectorate Division."

"I see. So, how long have you been alive then?"

"Pretty direct, aren't you?"

"When I need to be, yes."

"I'll keep that in mind. I was with a Ranger Company back before the States War. I joined up as a cavalry officer on the correct side. Unfortunately, the correct side lost the war. I went through dozens of battles without a scratch, but some lucky Union rifleman got me at the end. I daresay, I was dead before I hit the ground. I woke up in a hospital tent as a prisoner of the Union Army."

"So you were Immortal before or after that?"

"We all start out like you Sheriff. Perfectly human. We age normally. But if we happen to die, then the gene that controls Immortality is activated and releases a surge of energy that in effect jump starts the heart, and from that point on, we don't age, we don't become ill, and we live forever."

"Must be nice, living forever that is."

"It's not. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"That's because we haven't introduced ourselves yet. My name is Marella."

"Just Marella?"

"Yes. So, is it nice? Living forever?"

"No. One would think it is, to see the world around you as it changes, but having outlived several dozen adopted children and several wives, I'd have to say it basically sucks. It has its moments though. So, allow me to introduce my team here? I'm Jacob Sheridan, Protector. This here is John Clark, whom I believe you are aware is the Commander of the Rainbow organization. Next to him is Inspector Patrick O'Day of the FBI. The fellow brooding over there is Duncan MacLeod, leader of our strike team. The tall blonde dressed all in black is Byron Atkins, also with the Protectorate Division. And this lovely lady is Colonel Sheba, of Mars."

"Immortals and Colonials in the same room with us? After trying and failing to get an audience with your two governments for so long, I should be so lucky to find you in a small West Texas town. I've either gone insane or maybe I should buy lotto tickets for tonight?"

"You look pretty sane to me, but then again, you do call yourself 'Archangel'."

"He has a point Michael. I think I'm gonna like you, Ranger. Name's Hawke. Stringfellow Hawke. Pilot. This is my brother Saint John Hawke, also a pilot. And I believe you've already met Cait."

With the introductions out of the way, the two groups sat down to begin their talks.

"So, want to tell us why you are interested in Buck's Game Ranch?"

"At the end of the week, several men are expected there. A bit of rest and relaxation before continuing their mission. They will meet with their leader who will assign them a new set of tasks. These men are responsible for murdering at least sixteen people in the United States. Three other murders have not been conclusively linked to them. One of the people killed was an instructor pilot the Colonials had loaned to Nellis in Nevada, hence the involvement of Colonel Sheba in this matter. We're not entirely sure of the goal of the murders but it seems to be an attempt to scare the citizens of the US into distrusting the Immortals and the Colonials. Again, all we have so far is circumstantial evidence, and the word of one man, but the leader is a man running for the highest office in the land."

"The man who serves as Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee?"

"That's the one."

"He's mad!"

"That's our thinking too. We're not going to arrest him just yet. We caught a lucky break last week in learning of the meeting place ahead of time. That's why we're here. We bugged the place but good last night. We hope to monitor as much as possible so we can get hard evidence against him. Evidence that can be used in a court."

"Is that why you're camped out outside of town?"

"Well, there are no bases in the area, and we do need to be close to monitor the feeds."

"Move your base camp to our research center. We have a hangar you can use, and the on-site kitchens can provide you with food. The combination of your security teams and our own should make your mission a fairly safe one."

"Is there a catch?"

"Just one. A chance to meet with your governments. At one time, The Firm was the leading intelligence agency in the field of weapons research. It seems now that we aren't. We'd like the opportunity to re-take that title."

"I don't speak for my Government, sir, but I will forward your request to the Immortal Council."

"Excellent. Then you can move out there today, as soon as we're done here. I'd love the opportunity to examine that craft of yours!"

"Hell, I just want to fly it. See how it compares with the Lady."

"The Lady, Mr. Hawke?"

"Airwolf. The helicopter we were in last night."

"Ahh. Ok. I'm not a combat experienced pilot, sir. I have had basic flight training, as a part of my duties require me to visit our various embassies around the Alliance, but I have nowhere near the experience that our President does, or even Colonel Sheba here."

"You're a combat pilot?"

"Yes. Strike group leader for the Galactica. I fly the Viper Mk II, but after flying that Peregrine gunboat, I might not ever fly a Viper again."

"That little ship you were in last night is a gunboat? All I saw was the gun under the nose."

"A multi-barreled rail gun, firing trinium projectiles. That gun will punch a hole through six feet of structural steel, and keep on going. But when you add the cannons and torpedo launchers in the wings, and the twin pair of guns at the rear ventral side, I can see why the Alliance is planning to use those as command ships for the fighter squadrons. But I'm told that the Colonial fleet will begin integrating the new SA-32A Thunderbolt fighters that the AIS Halsey has in her squadrons, and also that the Colonial military is interested in producing a few prototypes of the SA-43 Hammerhead interceptors for trials. Frankly, I'm anxious to see how the new fighters will compare to our Vipers."

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FIRM Research Center

Friday Evening

North of Boganville, Texas

They had gathered in a conference room at the FIRM's research center. The main topic on the various news programs was about the recent beheadings in Denver, Washington, DC, Chicago, and New York. Twelve more killings in what was being called a campaign of terror launched by the Immortals in an effort to take over the United States. There were leaked documents coming out of DC, allegedly from the FBI, that purported to this conspiracy. It was something that was so far from the truth as to be almost laughable. The various surveillance devices planted at the Game Ranch began to pick up activity and so all eyes and ears moved to the various monitors displaying and broadcasting the feeds from there. Though there was voice comparison software running through the voices coming from the feeds, it had yet to identify any voices. It was far too early for that as yet.

"Any news on Team 3?"

"I heard something on the radio about an attempted kidnapping that went bad cause the local Sheriff happened to be delivering a subpoena next door to the kidnap attempt."

"If that was their effort, then Team 3 had a very bad day. I wonder if the Senator has any info for us?"

"Nah, probably just more killings. Ya know, I'd rather be killing Immortals than these wannabes."

"Can Immortals be killed? I mean, isn't that like a, whatchacallit, an oxymoron?"

"The Senator seems to think that there is a method of killing the real thing. But hell, what do I know? I'm only a grunt."

"Man, if you're just a grunt, and you're the one in charge of our team, then what does that make me?"

"Hell if I know. Anyone know what ranks less than a grunt?"

"Beats the shit outta me."

"Gentlemen? I trust all went well with your assignments?"

"Yes sir."

"Team 3 will not be joining us this evening. They were captured in an attempted kidnapping. All knowledge of them has been disavowed. Now then, you've carried out your assignments quite well and the resulting media furor over these incidents has been fueled by well timed leaks to the press. I think that one more round of killings is in order before we take this operation overseas. Team 1 will remain behind after the rest of us leave. You are to sanitize this location. Leave no witnesses behind that might identify us. Team 2 will proceed to alternate location four. Accomplish your mission there, then proceed to London to commence operations there. Team 4, you are to proceed at once to Japan to begin looking for your targets there. Team 5, head for Russia.

"Gentlemen, you have exceeded all of my expectations. After the people make the right and only correct choice in November, you will be given assignments that will reflect your good service to your country. Half of you will be sent to oversee our Lunar Colony, the other half to our Martian Colony. Once there, as long as you can produce whatever we need to defend this great nation of ours, you will have a freehand to do whatever is necessary.

For now, let us enjoy all the creature comforts that men of our stature and power have come to expect. I've had a number of female companions flown in especially for this night. Enjoy your liberty pass gentlemen. And remember, Team 1. No witnesses. Have fun gentlemen."

"Anyone have any idea where location four is?"

"Not a clue, Mr. Hawke. Not a clue."

It was the only question that had come to his mind at that instant. But even then, their minds were filled with horror at what these men had planned. The implications for the upcoming national election were scary at best, terrifying at worst. The implications for the fledgling Alliance were even worse. The more immediate problem was getting the employees of the Game Ranch out alive, plus the 'professional' women that had been flown in with the good Senator. Plans were made to raid the ranch after the other teams had left and only the three members of Team 1 were to be present. Plans were also made to insert a cloaked six person team immediately, so that they would be able to plant as many bugs in the baggage and clothing of the other teams to arrest them after the left the ranch.

Early the next morning, three teams departed by vehicle and the remaining team made ready to clean up the site. The departing vehicles had been tagged during the night with GPS tracking devices. Each person on the Consortium killing team now had a shadow of two cloaked raiders.

"Hey Frankie! How we gonna do this?"

"Double tap to the head. The ladies are still asleep, but I know the staff is awake. I already had my coffee. I say we call them all in to thank them for their services and terminate them with extreme prejudice at that time. Then we each have some more fun with two or three of the ladies and then off them too. Done deal."

"Did you get with that redheaded one last night? The one that was petite? She looks like that damned Fibbie that put away that Black Lunged Bastard Spender. Man, she gave me some great head. Wish I could keep her stashed away someplace."

"Hell yeah. I'd love to keep that Scandinavian blonde! Boy let me tell you what, she did things with her cunt that could make a gay man straight!"

"Nah, if'n I had my choice, I'd keep that little Mexican gal. Damn, but she has one hell of a tight ass! And damn, but everything else about her was the best I've ever had! Think the Senator would mind if'n we each kept one?"

"Hell man, what he don't know won't hurt 'im. I say we hit our 'chosen lovelies' with a tranq dart, then take care of the rest of them. First though, let's take out the staff. Then we'll have plenty of time to have some more fun. We can leave tonight. Clean up your brass. No evidence, boys."

The entire conversation had been monitored and recorded both at the FIRM's research center, and aboard the cloaked Peregrine hovering over the ranch. The EMH was already online and prepped to receive wounded. The three killers moved into the kitchen area and began to thank them for their hospitality. On a secured and encrypted radio, the strike team members heard three clicks. Three of them pulled their Zats up and took aim. On the next click they heard, all three fired. Bolts of electrical energy appeared from nothingness and struck the three men, dropping them to the ground a second later. One of the staff had the presence of mind to say 'Holy Shit!' as the men dropped to the ground and the six member strike team materialized out of thin air.

"Nobody move!"

"What the hell? Who the hell are you people?"

"FBI! Don't move sir!"

"FBI! Do you have a warrant? How in the hell did you get in here?"

"Special circumstances, sir. No warrant necessary. My name is Patrick O'Day. Inspector, FBI. These men were planning to kill all of you and then kill the women in the other rooms. You people have unfortunately seen someone that did not want to be seen."

"Kill us? For what? For seeing that pompous jack-ass of a Congress Critter that flew in yesterday?"

"That would be the someone you weren't supposed to see."

"Rat bastard ain't gettin' my vote! You folks want some coffee or vittles maybe? While you get them in irons, that is?"

"It's not necessary, but if you wouldn't mind?"

A few minutes later, the Peregrine had landed outside and the remaining members of the Air Force security team had streamed inside and rounded up the hostages, or guests that didn't know they were hostages. Within some ten minutes of the security team moving in, a stream of white vehicles from the FIRM had arrived and disgorged enough specialists so that each person that had been tagged for death now how their own shadow. The women would be put into protective custody, until after the trial. The staff of the Game Ranch were happy to note that the FIRM had made an offer to purchase the facility and that they would remain open after this little fracas as a corporate retreat.

It was a train crossing in the middle of nowhere, but the guard bars were down and the signals were ringing. The three vehicles that had left the game ranch an hour earlier stopped. The driver in the lead vehicle looked left, then right, and saw a short train on the approach. He was in no rush to get to El Paso. The fourth strike team would meet them there, and they had planned to go into Juarez for a little fun that night. As the train approached, it seemed to slow, though the driver figured it more of an optical illusion, especially considering all that he had drunk the night before. He still had one killer of a hangover.

The passenger in the lead vehicle had his window down as he was enjoying a smoke. He heard a far off whine, that sounded like the howl of a wolf. Which was strange, because as far as he knew, there were no wolves in this desolate part of Texas. Only coyotes hereabouts, or so the staff at the ranch had told him.

The train was slowing down. The men in the three vehicles tensed as they reached for their holstered weapons. As the train pulled to a stop, the vehicles were rocked by the jet wash of a low flying supersonic aircraft. Fire erupted around them an instant later. Someone had them bracketed but good. A line of machine gun fire was stitched close to the doors on either side of their vehicles. They looked at one another as what could only be commandoes streamed out of the train, and surrounded them. All of them gave up without a fight.

The three killing teams were rounded up, hand and leg cuffed, and then blindfolded. They were marched single file up a ramp of some kind and then everything went dark as they were hit with some sort of tranquilizer. The three vehicles were pulled up next to the train, and loaded onto the flatbed cars. The train started up once again, taking the next side track that would bring it back to the FIRM.

The operations in Boganville were now complete. Sheba had ferried the twelve new prisoners to Salt Flat, and then returned to meet the others at the research center.

"Well Ranger Sheridan. You people sure know how to run an Op. Been awhile since I've had to run something like that. It's a good thing though. The bad old days of the Cold War are long behind us. Hell, the Russians I fought for so long against are now our best friends! Our President has been in the Chairman's Office at the KGB, and that man has in turn sat in the Oval Office having a cup of coffee with our President! If you had told me something like that would ever happen back in the Cold War, I'd a had a good laugh!"

"Ran a few Ops behind the curtain, eh?"

"More than a few. Did you, General?"

"Helped Gerasimov get out of the country."

"That was impressive!"

"It was at that. But your operation here, to have flown for so long under the radar as it were. How in the world did you accomplish that?"

"It wasn't easy. And unfortunately, our sponsor who's helped us for so long is apparently a power mad politician."

"But most of them are just that, Michael."

"Yes they are, String. But maybe, just maybe, we have for once a man in the Oval that isn't power mad. You know him best, General. What is your take on John Patrick Ryan?"

"How much do you know about him?"

"Well, I've heard the rumors, of his tenure as the DDI, but some of those rumors are just too outlandish to consider as truth! I mean, the best one I heard was that when he was just an analyst he helped to capture a Soviet submarine. I also heard that he managed to get on the Hotline and helped to avert a war between ourselves and the Soviets. Better yet, was the operation in Columbia."

"All of them true. I won't swear to the submarine as I wasn't there. But I was on the ground helping him find out the truth of the nuclear terrorist attack on the US, and I was the point guy in Columbia. That operation was chaired by Cutter and put together by Ritter, the then DDO. But as soon as Jack found out that the support to the troops in the field was cut off, he went down personally and got them all out. I've seen a lot of operators come and go during my stay with the Agency. Jack Ryan is one of the good guys. The man had no desire to be President. And he still doesn't want to be there. But he recognizes that he's been given one of the rarest gifts ever. The gift to put things back the way they were meant to be in the beginning. Sure, yes, things have changed. We know we're no longer alone in the universe, and we've learned we're not the only ones that call Earth, home. But if it all this had happened with Kinsey in office, well, I'd rather not think about that."

"I'm guessing you're going to tell me that the DCI wants the FIRM to come in from the cold?"

"Director Foley does want to meet with your people. But, I will put in a good word for you and your folks here."

The small plastic piece of something or other on the back of Sheridan's wrist beeped twice.

"What the heck is that?"

"Comm link. Excuse me a moment please."

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"Sheridan here."

"Protector Sheridan. I need a status report please."

"We've got all the little fish, Mako. Once we interrogate them, we should have enough evidence to convict Kinsey in any court anywhere."

"Excellent job! I knew you could handle it. And what of the other situation there?"

"I believe we have some new friends here. And they would like to meet Marius and the Colonial President."

"That can be arranged. Why don't you bring them on up here today? Bring all the prisoners as well. Our new Klingon residents have some rather interesting methods for interrogation. It may prove quite entertaining."

"We'll be up there soon. Sheridan out."

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"Well, you heard the man. If you really want to meet Marius and the Colonial President, it can be done today."

"Definitely."

"Very well then. Just you, Archangel?"

"I'd like to take my aid, Marella. And the Hawke brothers. And our lovely local sheriff, if she can skip out on her duties for a bit."

"Sure! I have a deputy available at the moment."

"Colonel Sheba? Think you could arrange for President Tigh and Commander Apollo to join us on Luna?"

"As you Tau'ri are so fond of saying, done deal."

It was all over with except for the arrest of the idiot in charge and the ensuing trial. Five three-man killing teams had been taken off the streets.

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Luna

Offices of the President

There were several people now in the office. Sheridan and his team, Inspector O'Day and General Clark, Mister Byron, Colonel Sheba, and the five people from the FIRM. They had joined Marius and two of his top aides, Marcus Constantine and Nefertiri.

"So, all went well Protector Sheridan?"

"Quite well, Mr. President. The killing teams are in the hands of the FBI and are being interrogated. They are being kept in a quite little prison in rural Virginia now and are awaiting trials. The evidence provided by them has led to several seizures of off-shore accounts controlled by Kinsey and his organization. There is evidence of his use of that money for his campaign as well, in clear violation of Federal Election laws. The trial should prove quite entertaining."

"I imagine it would be. Any idea when his arrest is scheduled?"

"Soon. Very soon."

"Excellent. I hate to be involved in politics, but Kinsey is just an accident waiting to happen. He would set back relations between Alliance members by decades at best. I'd hate to think what his intentions would be for the other Earth-based governments."

"Well, he'll have plenty of time to contemplate that in prison."

"Amen to that, Protector. Amen."

"So, Mr. Coldsmith-Briggs, I understand you wanted to meet with me?"

"Please Mr. President, call me Michael."

"Only if you call me Marco. At least among friends."

"Marco. The FIRM is very interested in a joint venture with your development bureau to create newer and better weapons for our militaries."

"I've read Protector Sheridan's report regarding your Airwolf helicopter. I must say, that for the time when it was created it was the most advanced flying machine of its type. These days, however, it is rather antiquated."

"But it served a purpose then and it still does today."

"True. A stealthy platform with a top speed of Mach one-five. That's something even the US government hasn't been able to build. But with the cloaking technologies at our disposal, it makes it obsolete."

"I'll grant you that point. But still we'd like to develop a follow on version, perhaps for use as an infantry support craft for your ground forces?"

"The idea has significant merit, Michael. Our ground forces, when they are deployed on a planet, use a combination of VTOL fighters and helicopters to provide long range strike and close air support capability. But it means that we can only carry so many of a particular type. If we were to consolidate that force multiplier into one unit, I imagine it would be something like this follow-on version you're postulating."

"It seems we're thinking alike on this one."

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American University

Presidential Debate

It was a standard debate format with first one candidate, then the other, answering a list of prepared questions, asked by a moderator. At the end of this first debate, time permitting, three people who had been 'randomly' chosen, would be allowed to ask a pre-screened question to the candidates, and both would be given ninety seconds to respond.

Kinsey was already on the record as wanting to shut down what he called a 'Pandora's Box'. Ryan, on the other hand, kept pointing to all the good things that had come to Earth and the United States as a result of the Stargate. Kinsey pointed to the fact that the US military had acted recklessly and Ryan pointed to the fact that the US Military had initiated contact with advanced races that were even now helping improve life on Earth. Their jabs and punches went back and forth, Kinsey blaming Ryan for everything wrong with the country, and Ryan calmly explaining why things were they way they were. Then it came down to the final three questions, asked by three 'randomly' selected members of the audience. Unbeknownst to Kinsey, two of the three had been purposefully pre-selected and given pre-written questions by Arnie van Damm.

"Senator Kinsey. My name is Ronald Stackmoore of Maryland. Tell me sir, if elected, will you honor the treaties signed under President Ryan's administration with the Immortals, the Colonials, and the other aliens?"

"I will honor them to a point. Sure, there is some good that has come from these treaties, but the overall picture is bleak. Our being a party to the Alliance means loosing our independence. Neither the United States in particular nor the Earth in general, I believe, is ready to give up the sense of freedom that our ancestors fought so hard to achieve."

"Mr. President, you have ninety seconds to respond."

"Thank you. The treaties worked out by the diplomatic teams of the United States have proven to be a boon for our economy. Using technology from the Immortals, we've managed to offer a blind person their sight; we've begun production on a cure for so many suffering from AIDS, and production on a vaccination against the virus that causes this dreadful disease. We've been offered trade deals that would allow the US to produce cheap and clean electrical power, and a new job market that we can export our citizens to. And of course, there are at present a dozen or so American companies producing the new personal food replicators that hold the promise of an end to world hunger."

"Mr. President. I am Sean Connors of Illinois. Tell me sir, given the recent attacks on the United States by terrorists using aircraft and biological weapons, what is your opinion of the current state of Earth?"

"I think it's time the people of Earth grew into their own and realized that there is a great big universe out there. Our destiny lies as much here on Earth as it does in the stars. Our ancestors came to the Americas and explored its lands because that need for exploration, for seeing new places, exists in us all. If we can manage to overcome our differences with one another, then we will be in the best position to expand quickly. Each and every culture on this planet can contribute something towards that end. But first, we have a war to win. And while it may not be entirely of our making, the goal is basic survival. Our brethren have come across the sea of stars to find sanctuary with us. They have, unfortunately, been pursued by an enemy that wants to extinguish all human life. This cybernetic enemy is attempting to do to the entire human species, what we stopped Hitler from doing to the Jewish people."

"Senator Kinsey, you have ninety seconds to respond."

"We have enough problems here on Earth without inviting the troubles of other races. The God I believe in will not allow His children to fade from His great plan."

"Senator Kinsey. I'm Caitlin O'Shannessy, Sheriff of Pope County, Texas. Why did you send killers into our communities to behead innocent men and women?"

"I beg your pardon! I've done no such thing!"

"I have proof of this, Senator. Undeniable proof of your orders as given to fifteen men. Orders to travel to different cities to execute innocent citizens, so that we citizens would have a fear of Immortals and of Colonials."

"I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse me of murder!"

Behind the two men on the stage at the American University in Washington, DC, a number of men and women in suits had appeared. All wore badges, and it did appear as though all were armed.

"Senator Kinsey. Good evening. I'm Inspector Patrick O'Day of the FBI. You sir, are under arrest."

"On what charge?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder. Conspiracy to kidnap citizens of the United States, of Immortal Luna, and of Colonial Mars. Conspiracy to defraud the people of the United States. Treason against the United States. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, note that anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed by the courts. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"You can't do this! Do you realize who I am? I will be President! Get away from me! You can't do this to me!"

Kinsey struggled against the men on the stage for all of about ten seconds, before he was knocked to the ground and cuffed. A moment later he was led away by Inspector O'Day.

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US District Court

Washington, DC

Arraignment

"Docket number 101506, the People versus Robert Kinsey. The charges are treason, espionage, thirty-one counts of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, twenty counts of attempted murder, fraud, conspiracy to commit fraud, and violations of the Federal Electoral Statutes."

"Quite a busy man you've been Mr. Kinsey."

"That's Senator Kinsey, your Honor."

"Not anymore. I was handed this bit of information just before I came in here. The US Senate voted unanimously just about an hour ago to strip you of all your titles. I'm told the Governor of Maryland has already chosen someone to replace you, Mister Kinsey."

"What! You fucking idiots! You can't do this to me! I'm going to be the President! I was promised that long ago! You can't do this to me!"

"Councilor, control your client!"

"Calm down Robert! Calm down and shut up!"

"You're all against me! You want to see me fail! Well, I won't have it!"

"Bailiff! Silence that man! I'm ordering a psychiatric evaluation of your client. If it is determined that he can aid in his defense, I'll hear his plea at that time. Court is in recess for fifteen minutes!"

"That's not necessary, your Honor. My client has instructed me to plead not guilty to all of the charges against him."

"Very well, the plea of 'Not Guilty' is entered on behalf of Robert Kinsey. However, the order for a psychiatric examination still stands."

"Of course, your Honor."

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The headlines around the US the next day all showed the same picture of the former Senator Kinsey being led out of a courthouse in Washington, DC, in a straight jacket. And with the elections to be held in less than a month's time, Jack Ryan was all but assured of victory. The citizens of the United States could tolerate many faults in the men they elected to the Presidency, but treason was not one of them. Nor was murder.

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US District Court

The People versus Robert Kinsey

It was a calm and crisply clear day in late October when the Honorable Thomas Wilson entered his court room. At the defense table was Robert Kinsey, former Senator from the state of Maryland, and his team of highly paid defense attorneys. Though their job was to defend him, all felt that the evidence against Kinsey would be too overwhelming for the Jury.

At the opposite table sat the Attorney General for the United States, who had elected to prosecute this man himself, for the heinous crimes he'd ordered against his fellow citizens.

"Mr. Martin, are you ready to begin your case?"

"I am, your Honor."

"Then please, proceed."

"The prosecution calls Jack O'Neill."

Several heads craned around to see the USAF Colonel, resplendent in his blue Class-A uniform with full ribbons, stride up to the witness' stand.

"Please raise your right hand and place your left on the Bible. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do."

"Please be seated."

"Would you state your name and occupation, for the record?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill United States Air Force. Currently assigned as second-in-command at Stargate Command under General Hammond, and team leader of SG-1."

"Very good, Colonel. The man on trial here today, Robert Kinsey. Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately."

"When did you first meet him?"

"The good ex-Senator turned up at the SGC near the end of our first year of operation. He was there to shut us down, claiming that the 'Gate was a danger to Earth."

"Is it a danger?"

"It's true that since we opened the Stargate we've made some serious enemies out in space, but we've also made some very powerful friends as well."

"I see. Did Mr. Kinsey succeed in shutting down the Gate?"

"He did for a short while."

"What happened?"

"We'd received intelligence that a Goa'uld System Lord named Apophis was planning to launch an attack on Earth. He was coming by ship, two ships actually. At the time the most the combined military powers of Earth could do would be to maybe launch a missile or launch one of our unarmed shuttles. We would have been slaughtered from orbit."

"But we weren't, were we?"

"No sir. My team and I 'Gated to the world where the ships were in orbit. We were able to disable the shield generator on one ship and force it into colliding with the other ship, destroying both."

"But before you were able to do that, Earth launched a missile attack, is that correct?"

"Yes. The missiles were launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base. These were nuclear warheads enhanced with naquadah. The idea was to target one missile at each ship and blow it from the sky."

"What is naquadah, Colonel?"

"It's the primary mineral used in the Stargate, and used by virtually every technology used by the Goa'uld. When added to a nuclear device, it increases the explosive power by several orders of magnitude."

"I see. Continue, please."

"Well, Vandenberg launched only two missiles. The Goa'uld did nothing to stop them. They didn't have to. They have these force fields that surround their ships. The missiles detonated harmlessly against the shields. So we went back to our plan. The charges had already been placed. It was just a matter of finding a way off the ship before they went off."

"Since you're here to testify, I'll assume that you found a way off the ship."

"We did. And we managed to steal two of their fighters in the process. Fighters that we've since studied and reverse engineered to build human versions of."

"But Kinsey had shut down the program, correct?"

"Yes. But the President felt it was more important to start it up again."

"The world owes you a great debt, Colonel."

"It was nothing."

"I have nothing more for this witness at this time your Honor, but the prosecution reserves the right to recall Colonel O'Neill should it become necessary."

"Very well. Mr. Hodges, do you have any questions for this witness?"

"I do, sir."

"Proceed."

"Colonel O'Neill, were you not at one time charged with the attempted assassination of Robert Kinsey?"

"Those charges were dropped. A case of mistaken identity."

"Even though the security camera footage from the hotel where the shot was fired clearly shows you walking out with a case, which I can only assume had a rifle in it."

"Again, it was mistaken identity."

"I beg to differ sir. I've had the imaged enhanced and enlarged. The man in the photo is you, sir. But you didn't kill him, did you. And now you're trying to smear his good name with this ridiculous testimony!"

"Objection your Honor. Asked and answered."

"Let me see that photo. Colonel, this does look very much like you. Can you explain the similarity?"

"No sir. The method used to impersonate me is classified."

"I see. Court is in recess for the moment. Mr. Martin, Mr. Hodges, my chambers, now! You too, Colonel."

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Judge's Chambers

"Colonel O'Neill, while I full well understand the need for secrecy, I do have to know that it wasn't you that attempted to assassinate the Defendant, otherwise I will be forced to instruct the jury to disregard your testimony in its entirety."

"Of course, your Honor. While I have been granted the authority to tell you, the same can not be said for either of these two gentlemen."

"I see. Gentlemen, please leave my chambers."

"I object your Honor!"

"Noted Mr. Hodges. Now, leave."

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

"Alright, Colonel. We're alone now. Tell me what is so classified?"

"Do you know, your Honor, what it means to mimic something?"

"To create a duplicate of that something, Colonel. What does this have to do with the charges Mr. Hodges leveled against you?"

"Some years ago, we had what we term a 'Foothold' situation at the SGC. Aliens came through the gate in the guise of one of our off-world teams. They wore a device that allowed them to create a holographic exterior shell of a person. We beat them back, and we recovered twelve of the devices which were examined at Area 51. The technology is way in advance of ours and we have no method for duplicating it.

"After I was arrested, an investigation was done at Area 51 and it was determined that the devices in question had been switched with fakes. The National Intelligence Directorate, or NID, had obtained the devices. One of them was programmed with my image. It was used by one of their operatives to attempt to assassinate Kinsey as he had become a threat to their rogue operations. But because they didn't want to be implicated in that effort, and because I have a well known dislike for the man, they used the device that mimicked me to pull off their charade.

"When that was discovered, Kinsey was informed, and he dropped the charges against me."

"I see. You realize, of course, that had you come to me with this story even a year ago, I would have had you committed as lacking a few marbles. But with all the news about the Stargate and aliens, well, I tend to have a more open mind these days. Let's go back into the court room now."

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

"Court is now in session."

"Regarding your objection, Mr. Martin, it is sustained. Colonel O'Neill has answered the question to my satisfaction."

"Your Honor! I object to these shady dealings!"

"Overruled, Mr. Hodges. Do you have any more questions for this witness?"

"Not at this time, your Honor."

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

"The People call Jacob Sheridan."

"Would you please state your name and occupation, for the record, sir?"

"Jacob Sheridan, Protector, Immortal Protectorate."

"Mr. Sheridan, would you please detail for us your investigation into the recent spate of killings around the country?"

"Sure thing. A few months ago, I was asked to do a consult in Las Vegas. It seems they'd had four killings there, brutal killings, where there'd been some phrases left behind on the walls written in the victim's blood."

"What were the phases, sir?"

"Everything dies. Immortals lie, Immortals die."

"Morbid thoughts. Why were you called in?"

"Because of the references to Immortals. If someone were hunting our kind, well, it pays to be vigilant against that sort of thing."

"And what did you discover during the course of your investigation?"

"That there was a conspiracy to murder innocent citizens and blame Immortals for the deaths. The idea, as I understood it, was to convince the peoples of Earth that Immortals are all bad and that we should be locked up to prevent us from taking over the planet."

"I see. Did you determine if there was any pattern to the killings?"

"If there was a pattern, then it eluded me. But we did act on information received from an informant that one of the killing teams had picked a specific target in Dallas, Texas. Acting on that information, we put the target under surveillance and captured the killing team before they could accomplish their mission."

"Did you learn anything from questioning that team?"

"We did. We learned that after they had finished their mission in Dallas, that they would be headed to a West Texas game ranch for a brief rest and a debriefing before getting their next assignment."

"I see. Please continue."

"With the cooperation of the FBI and local authorities, we obtained warrants and authorization to place that facility under surveillance."

"The video and audio tapes you submitted as evidence are the result of this surveillance?"

"They are."

"At this time your Honor, the People submit into evidence the tapes made by the investigating team."

"Objection, your Honor!"

"On what grounds?"

"My client has a right to privacy, your Honor."

"Overruled. Bailiff, play the tape."

"…Gentlemen? I trust all went well with your assignments?…"

"Identify the first speaker, Mr. Sheridan."

"Voice analysis confirms a ninety-nine point nine percent match as Robert Kinsey."

"…Yes sir…"

"And the second voice?"

"It belongs to one of the killing team members."

"…Team 3 will not be joining us this evening. They were captured in an attempted kidnapping. All knowledge of them has been disavowed. Now then, you've carried out your assignments quite well and the resulting media furor over these incidents have been fueled by well timed leaks to the press. I think that one more round of killings is in order before we take this operation overseas. Team 1 will remain behind after the rest of us leave. You are to sanitize this location. Leave no witnesses behind that might identify us. Team 2 will proceed to alternate location four. Accomplish your mission there, then proceed to London to commence operations there. Team 4, you are to proceed at once to Japan to begin looking for your targets there. Team 5, head for Russia.

Gentlemen, you have exceeded all of my expectations. After the people make the right and only correct choice in November, you will be given assignments that will reflect your good service to your country. Half of you will be sent to oversee our Lunar Colony, the other half to our Martian Colony. Once there, as long as you can produce whatever we need to defend this great nation of ours, you will have a freehand to do whatever is necessary.

For now, let us enjoy all the creature comforts that men of our stature and power have come to expect. I've had a number of female companions flown in especially for this night. Enjoy your liberty pass gentlemen. And remember, Team 1. No witnesses. Have fun gentlemen..."

"Mr. Sheridan, were you able to prevent the elimination of the witnesses?"

"Indeed, sir. My team moved in to capture the killing team just as they were about to start shooting. The remaining teams were isolated at a road crossing and captured without much incident."

"What do you think of men like Kinsey?"

"Objection your Honor! Mr. Sheridan's opinion of my client should have no bearing here!"

"I asked him that question, your Honor, in his capacity as a law enforcement officer."

"Any objections to that, Mr. Hodges?"

"Yes your Honor. Mr. Sheridan may serve as a so-called protector for Immortals, but that doesn't mean he has any relevant law enforcement experience on Earth. I demand to know if he has any sort of experience that's relevant to his opinion."

"Mr. Sheridan?"

"Ok. Well, as you might have already guessed, I am an Immortal. I became such towards the end of 1864, during the War for Southern Independence. I was a Sergeant in the Confederate Cavalry. Before that, I rode with 'Rip' Ford when he led the Rangers. Texas Rangers. I've been a part of that organization since 1858. Retired with the rank of Captain a little over a year ago to take the job on Luna."

"Mr. Hodges? Does that answer satisfy you?"

"It does your Honor. I withdraw my objection."

"Mr. Sheridan? What do you think of men like Kinsey?"

"Men like Robert Kinsey have been around since the beginning of time, and I daresay they'll be with us for a long time to come. The old phrase about being born into power or rising to power? Kinsey might not have been born into it, but he has certainly acquired it. Men like Kinsey thrive on power. They feed on it. They use everything and everyone around them to achieve it. The truly sad thing is that Kinsey believes he's doing the right thing; that all of his actions are justified."

"No more questions, your Honor."

"Mr. Hodges?"

"Just a few questions, your Honor. Mr. Sheridan, tell me about the Game."

"The game? What game?"

"Come now, Mr. Sheridan. You claim to be an Immortal, yet you don't know anything about the Game?"

"Oh. That Game. Well, I never was much of an active participant in it."

"Objection, your Honor. The culture of the Immortals is not on trial here."

"If you'll give me some leeway, your Honor, I'll tie this up in a moment."

"Objection noted, Mr. Martin. Make your point quickly, Mr. Hodges."

"The Game, Mr. Sheridan."

"I respectfully refuse to answer that question."

"Alright then, what about the Prize?"

"I respectfully refuse to answer that as well."

"Very well. Can you confirm or deny that the Game is a fight to the death where only one shall remain?"

"No comment."

"Can you confirm then, that the Prize shall be given to the one who remains, and that the One will have dominion over all mortal men?"

"With fairy tales like that one, Mr. Hodges, you'd be a good writer for Hollywierd."

"Answer the question, Mr. Sheridan."

"I'm afraid I can't answer that one."

"Can't or won't?"

"Won't."

"Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question."

"Mr. Sheridan?"

"I'm sorry, your Honor. But even we Immortals must have our classified secrets."

"Objection! If the witness will not answer, then I move that his entire testimony be stricken and the jury instructed to disregard it in its entirety!"

"Mr. Sheridan, will you answer the question?"

"I can not do so in open court your Honor. I will do so to your Honor alone."

"Very well. My chambers, if you please. The Court will take a short recess!"

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

Judge's Chambers

"What is it Mr. Sheridan, that can not be revealed in court?"

"Tell you what, your Honor. If you feel that the people of the world are ready for the information I'm about to reveal, then I'll answer the question in open court. If, however, you feel that my information will cause a global panic, then I must ask that you not reveal this information, ever, to anyone."

"Very well. What is so secret?"

"The Game. No one knows where it really began, but there are rumors in the Immortal community that it was created by a mortal with too much time on their hands at the beginning of human history. Immortals will battle one on one, until only one shall remain in the entire world. That one will have power and dominion over all of mankind. If a benevolent Immortal were to win the prize, mankind would be gifted an eternity of peace. If, however, a malevolent Immortal were to win, mankind would suffer an eternity of damnation."

"That sounds like something from the Bible, Mr. Sheridan."

"Perhaps that is where our legends come from. Remind me to introduce you to Captain Adam Pierson. I believe he's on the witness list. If the name Pierson doesn't ring a bell, then perhaps the name he traveled under for a couple thousand years might. Death. As in rides a pale horse? You see, your Honor, some human legends and myths are actually Immortals taking advantage of those fears."

"The Horsemen of the Apocalypse were real? Surely you are joking sir!"

"Nope. Methos. Kronos. Silas. Caspian. Those were their real names. But History and the Bible record them differently. Death. War. Famine. Pestilence. Would you want that kind of knowledge to leak out?"

"No! No. That would terrify everyone on the planet. Immortals would be hunted. I think it would be a return to the witch hunts of the 1600's."

"I think the witch hunts would be a mild thing in comparison. An Immortal can survive anything mortal man can attempt. Only another Immortal can kill an Immortal. That is the reason the Protectorate Division was created, sir. To police our own, because mortal man can not. Could you image a life sentence handed down to a man who will never die?"

"I can't."

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

Court Room

"Court is now in session."

"As it is coming close to the lunch hour, court will recess until 1pm. Mr. Sheridan, you may step down until after the recess."

"Thank you, your Honor."

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

Court Room

"Court is now in session."

"Your Honor, have you thought on my objection?"

"I have, Mr. Hodges. Your objection is noted, but over ruled. Mr. Sheridan's testimony will stand in the record. Mr. Martin, call your next witness."

"The People call Alex Krycek."

At the calling of that name, Kinsey looked wild-eyed for a few seconds, before resuming his calm demeanor that he'd perfected for the trial.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record."

"Alex Krycek. Currently unemployed."

"What did you do before your current unemployment, Mr. Krycek?"

"Numerous classified operations."

"I see. Do you know the defendant, Robert Kinsey?"

"Unfortunately."

"How do you know him?"

"He contacted me several weeks ago, asking me to co-ordinate his killing teams."

"Objection your Honor! What my client may or may not have said is hearsay from this witness!"

"Do you have any proof of what the defendant told you, Mr. Krycek?"

"I record all conversations I have with anyone your Honor. I've given those tapes to Mr. Martin."

"Mr. Martin, rather than have Mr. Hodges object again, would you play the tapes in question?"

"Yes your Honor."

"…Krycek. August. Meeting with Senator Robert Kinsey…"

"…good to see you again Alex. I thought those pesky FBI agents had nabbed you too."

"I'm a hard man to find, Senator. You called this meeting. What do you want?"

"I want to be President, Alex. And you are going to help me."

"I'm listening."

"I've managed to find a number of Spender's former foot soldiers. I want you to lead them in a mission."

"What sort of mission?"

"One that will make everyone on Earth distrustful of Immortals. I want people to be terrified. I want them looking at each other and wonder whether their neighbor might be a blood thirsty Immortal."

"Is that all?"

"No. I want you to find someone at the CIA who can leak Jack Ryan's unofficial history."

"Why do that? You know that doing so would bring about a resurgence of the Cold War?"

"I want to be seen as a savior to the people of these United States. If they see me as the one who saved them from that idiot Ryan, they'll elect me and let me change the law to allow me to serve for life!"

"You're a sick and twisted man, Senator."

"And you're unemployed, Alex. Can you afford the luxury of not working? Can you afford the luxury of not being on my winning team?"

"Unemployed yes, but not broke. Spender may have been a son-of-a-bitch, but he paid well. Very well. I could not do any work for the next fifty years, and still live a comfortable lifestyle. As for being on your team, Senator, I'll have to pass."

"Why Alex?"

"I don't like you. Spender was an ass, and he was power-hungry, but he was more than content to work behind the scenes, pulling strings. You're not. You want the power for yourself, and you'll stop at nothing to achieve that power, no matter who you hurt along the way."

"You don't understand Alex, but that's ok. Eventually, you'll return to the fold, and when you do, your place will be assured."

"Don't count on it, Kinsey."

"Thank you Mr. Krycek. I have no more questions for this witness, your Honor."

"Mr. Hodges?"

"Mr. Krycek. What sort of name is Krycek, anyways?"

"Eastern European."

"Oh? Are you an illegal alien, Mr. Krycek?"

"I was born in the United States, Mr. Hodges. My parents defected here during the Cold War."

"I see. Do you speak any languages besides English?"

"I'm fluent in Russian and Lithuanian. Maybe enough Spanish to get a room, a meal, and a beer."

"What sort of work did you do for the man known as Spender?"

"Classified work."

"Come now, Mr. Krycek. Spender and his ilk have gone the way of the Dodo bird. Surely you can talk about it now?"

"As far as I'm concerned, sir, that information is something I'll take to my grave with me. Classified means just that, sir; classified."

"Very well. Do you know President Ryan?"

"Not personally."

"But you do know who he is, correct?"

"Kinda hard to miss his being President."

"Correct. Do you know anything about his tenure at the CIA?"

"No more than you do sir."

"Can you tell us about what you know?"

"No. I believe that information is classified."

"But surely the people of the United States have a right to know what sort of man sits in the Oval Office?"

"I'm sure they do, but his history at the CIA, like my own covert history, is classified. I am not at liberty to discuss it."

"No more questions, your Honor."

"Mr. Krycek, you may step down."

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

"Mr. Martin, do you have any more witnesses?"

"The People rest your Honor."

"Rather than proceed, as the hour is growing late, Court will be in recess until 9am on Monday, at which time, the Defense will begin their case."

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

"Hello Alex."

"Sheridan. What can I do for you?"

"More like what I can do for you. My President would like a meeting, Alex."

"Ok. Where?"

"Luna. I have a car waiting to take us to the Lunar Embassy. There, we'll pick up a shuttle for Luna."

"Seeing as I have nothing better to do…"

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

Luna

Office of the President

"Protector. Mr. Krycek. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. That will be all Protector."

"Of course sir."

"Have a seat, Mr. Krycek. Could I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?"

"Vodka, if you have it."

"I do. So, let me thank you first off, for the timely information on Kinsey. Without it, I daresay we wouldn't have a caught a break until it was too late."

"Your welcome. Why do I get the feeling you want me to do something for you?"

"Perceptive too. I like that in a person. Ok, I'll be honest with you. Would you agree that a major part of any battle with any enemy is intelligence? That is to say, getting it before hand so the guys on the pointy end know what they're facing?"

"I'll agree with that. What's that got to do with me?"

"The Alliance agrees with that also. For thousands of years, the Tok'ra have acted in that capacity, gathering intelligence on their enemy, the Goa'uld, and sabotaging key players in this most dangerous of games. But while the Tok'ra might have the unique ability to infiltrate the enemy, they certainly act more like a small-time resistance cell, than any intelligence outfit I've ever come across. What I'd like you to consider is taking up the leadership reigns for a new intelligence agency the Alliance is putting together. One that will have agents across the galaxy. I need someone that can pay attention to the tiniest of details, yet can still see the whole picture. I think that might be you."

"You've got my attention, now. What's the catch?"

"The catch. Well, yes, I guess there would be a catch. Well, from time to time, you might have to work with someone like Sheridan. Or with Mulder, Scully, or Skinner."

"Sheridan I can handle, but the other three might want to kill me before they work with me."

"Actually it was Mulder that recommended you for the position. Skinner backed him up on that. Dana Scully will be taking over the medical research facility on Luna. Mulder will head up our diplomatic corps. Both will teach, from time to time, at the Lunar Naval Academy. Skinner has been offered a position in the Protectorate Division, with secondary duties training up a new generation of Protectors."

"Will I be based on Luna?"

"For the moment, yes. But as soon as we are able to, we will be turning an asteroid in the field into a headquarters facility for the Alliance Intelligence Directorate, complete with hangar for the ships that will be made available to your new division, and training facilities for your field agents.

"Eventually the threat of the Goa'uld will be gone, but when they fall, there will be a tremendous power vacuum in their wake. Nature abhors a vacuum. Someone else will take their place. We want to be in place across the galaxy before that happens. Any suggestions?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's my understanding that a good portion of the Goa'uld controlled worlds are primitive. At least by our standards."

"Some worlds are like the Tollan; more advanced. Some are like Kelowna; at a par with Earth of World War II. Some are like Europe of the Middle Ages. From one world to the next, it's hard to define what you'll find."

"Let me think about it?"

"Of course. If you take the position, you'd answer to me and to the Alliance Council. But by and large, you'd have free reign to carry out your primary mission. That is, to gather intelligence for use by the Alliance. Your secondary mission would be to observe worlds that have petitioned for membership in the Alliance. We could send observers, but if they know we're coming…"

"If they know you're coming, then they'll put a nice spin on things. You won't get to see the planet as it really is."

"Exactly. Your field agents would travel by gate to the more advanced worlds, or to worlds that are familiar with the gate and use it from time to time. They would also travel by scout ship. The scout ships will have Alliance transponder codes to access the ShipGate network."

"It's a lot to take in. Let me think on it overnight. I'll give you my answer in the morning."

"Sure. Take this. It sticks to the back of your hand like so. It's a communication device. Press this button to access the Lunar operator. Just ask for whomever you want, and if they're on Luna, your call will be connected. Press this button next to it to receive a call."

"No cell phone. No pager. No walkie-talkie. I'm liking this already."

"If I could recommend for a good meal, check out the 'Lunar Lander Bar and Grill' on the Atrium level in Main Dome."

"Thank you sir."

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Luna

Main Dome

Krycek had begun his walkabout with no place in mind as a destination. He hadn't left the confines of Main Dome as it covered an area of some seventy-five square miles. The one thing he noticed was that seemed to be a lot of artisans on the Moon. 'I guess when you have centuries to devote to an art, you can get quite good at it.' He thought. Main Dome was broken up into sections with each section aimed at a specific purpose. It was a well planned city. He could see construction crews flitting about in the distance. A passer-by told him they were out laying down the framework for new domes, one of which would become home to the new agricultural area the Immortals planned. Too expensive to ship stuff up here, he guessed. Eventually he came upon the Lunar Lander restaurant that President Ramos had recommended. He could see there was a line, but the hostess took one look at his com-link and moved him to the head of the line.

The hostess knew full well that the gold colored com-links were reserved for the command-level personnel on Luna, but she had no way of knowing that Krycek wasn't command-level as yet. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution. He picked a corner booth at the back of the restaurant, the better to see people as they walked in. That he picked it cause it meant a person couldn't sneak up on him was irrelevant. Or very relevant, depending on whom one spoke to. Krycek glanced at the menu long enough to order a traditional borscht from his parents homeland, and a simple meat stew. He chose tea to go with his meal, and vodka for afterwards.

His tea had arrived but he sat there, staring at the surface of the table, trying to contemplate the events of the day. Little did he realize when he awoke that morning, that he would be dining on the Moon. But he was looking down and not at the front door to the restaurant, so he didn't notice Mulder, Scully, and Skinner walk into the Lander. The first he knew of their presence was when Mulder softly cleared his throat and he looked up into their eyes.

"I hope you're not going to cause a scene Mulder."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Alex. Mind if we join you? It's always hard to get a table here."

"Not sure I'd be good company, but sure. Join me."

"Gold com-link, Alex? Accepted the President's offer?"

"Huh? Gold? What do you mean?"

"Your com-link. It's gold. That's reserved for command-level personnel."

"Explains why I got bumped to the front of the line."

"So, did you take the job?"

"Thinking about it. Not sure yet."

"You worried about Spender?"

"No one's seen or heard from him in quite some time. My brain tells me he's probably dead, but I wonder."

"He's not dead, but he'll never be the man he used to be. He chose to be mind-wiped as opposed to life in prison. All of the big shots we arrested chose the mind wipe procedure. They're all now safely ensconced on an asteroid, doing what they think is critical research for the war effort."

"What sort of research?"

"We gave them new personalities, new technical skills, but we limited those skills and those personalities. Now all they want to do is break a Goa'uld encryption code, one that the Goa'uld stopped using about the same time the Gate was buried on Earth."

"We gave them some of the first model computers to come out and told them it was the best equipment available. As far as I'm concerned, they'll be trying to crack that encryption code for the rest of their lives."

Mulder, Scully, and Skinner all saw it. Like a weight being lifted from Krycek's person. His spirit seemed to soar with the news that Spender was now just a grunt. Never again would Alex be haunted by Spender's omni-present ghost.

"You look pretty relieved there, Alex."

"I am relieved. I know what you think of me Mulder. That I played for the wrong side. Well, when one considers that the first job I did for Spender was because he was holding my one remaining family member hostage, one might begin to understand my dilemma. Even after her eventual release, Spender continued his torment of me. And because I had done something very bad, and because he had all of the evidence in that respect, my blackmailer became my employer. His threats of going to the police with evidence against me made me work all the harder for him, just so I could get those papers back. You can't imagine how relieved I am to know that he'll never torment another soul ever again!"

"Are you going to take the job?"

"I don't know. For once, I'd like to take things easy."

"Things will never be easy again Alex. We have a very real enemy out here, and even when they are gone for good, the power vacuum that they'll leave behind will be exploited by someone else."

"Your President mentioned that."

"We've all seen it happen before on Earth. Who's to say it won't happen in a more 'advanced' race?"

"Always the pessimist, eh Mulder?"

"Are you going to take the job, Alex?"

"Why are you so interested in me taking this position, Mulder?"

"I want some good to become of all the bit players in Spender's schemes. That's all we were; all of us just bit players on his stage. He controlled or tried to control, everything around him. The antagonists were, of course, the aliens and their plans for colonization. At least, that's what he had us believing. I think, the truth of it all is that he was the one primary antagonist. He orchestrated everything, putting pieces into play, encouraging them in some respects, and holding them back in others. He was both friend and enemy to all of us. He took Scully away, then gave her back. He assigned you as my friend and watcher, then turned you into an enemy. I never knew what your true motive was, especially as long as Spender was alive. There were many times that I couldn't trust even myself to do the right thing.

"But with him out of the picture, our little drama has closed for good. And beyond a few in the upper echelons of the government and the military, no one will know of our roles. Skinner, Scully, you, and me, we know. Do you want to know what Spender said to me before they wiped his memories, his personality? He said 2012. Colonization comes in 2012. Maybe it would have had the Alliance not been born. But if they come now, odds are they'll fail and no other race will be targeted by them, ever again.

"In any case, the four of us are in the best position to gather information, to help the Alliance prepare, in the off-chance that Spender might have been doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. Or the right thing for the wrong reasons. We know there's a vaccine for the alien virus. We've all seen the virus and its effects on people. I think we need a definitive answer on whether that virus is indeed alien, or just some genetically modified Earth strain. Cause if it's native to our world, then Spender played us all for fools. He and others like him played us all for fools for a few decades. But if it's not native to Earth, if it really is alien in origin, then we need to make sure that the vaccine is available to everyone on Earth, to everyone in the Alliance."

"Just the four of us working on this?"

"That's the thing, Alex. If you take the job, you'll be in a position to bring in from the cold all the agents the Consortium had at its disposal. Through them, you can find all those secret and clandestine labs they had. With their research in hand, particularly the medical research, we can determine once and for all, the truth or lack thereof, of Spender's master plan."

"So the fight continues, only know we'll have the assets and resources we need to finish this fight once and for all, is that it?"

"Tennyson said it best. '…that which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will…To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'"

"That helps, actually."

Beep-beep-beep.

"Scully here. What is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Scully. We have word from the SGC of a major battle on another planet. They are requesting medical assistance."

"On my way. Well, sorry folks, duty calls."

"I'll go with you, Agent Scully."

"I'm not an 'Agent' any more sir."

"You and Mulder will always be 'Agent' to me."

Skinner and Scully left the table and went immediately to the Ring room for transport to the SGC. Both were kitted out, Skinner going along more as a guard for Scully than as a part of the rescue operation being mounted for P3X-166, where SG-3 and 13 were under siege. After battling through the 'Gate, Scully and Skinner found their way to where Janet Fraiser was working to save one of the SG soldiers. The staff blast that erupted from the weapon of the Jaffa meant for Janet Fraiser took Dana Scully instead, with a little energy spilling off and striking a glancing blow to Doctor Fraiser. As Marius had once said to her, so she now said to Janet when she awoke. 'I did it cause I'll wake up, but you wouldn't, and then what would I tell Cassie?'

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Next Morning

Office of the President

Alex had spent most of the night after leaving Mulder's company wandering about Main Dome, watching fighters launch to join the fleet, watching cargo ships as they came in on their runs. Watching vac-suited workers mill about the uncompleted Ag Dome. Watching the Earth rise above the Lunar horizon. It was a good time to be alive, he finally realized.

"Mr. President."

"Make your decision yet?"

"Yes. And yes, I'll take the position."

"Good! And now for your first assignment."

"So soon?"

"It should be an easy one. To tell the truth, I was betting you'd say yes, so I took the liberty of arranging a meeting for you. Borrow one of the pilots in the hangar bay. Choose a good one, cause he or she will be tasked to you from here on out. You'll be meeting with your counterparts on Earth. Director Foley of the CIA. Director Golovko of the SVR. Avi ben Jakob of Mossad. And Prince Ali bin Sheik of Saudi Arabia. Each one will have a few other nations' intelligence directors or their seconds there as well. Four stops, then back here. Maybe you can convince them to 'lend' you a few analysts and agents to train up whatever people you select. Afterwards, I'll give you a couple weeks to get things started, and then you'll need to hit the ground running. The quicker we can begin to get a handle on our enemies, the better for our troops.

"If you hadn't noticed, the com-link I gave to you is gold. Not just gold-colored or gold-plated, but actual gold. As much as anything else around here, that's a status symbol of your new rank. Directors of agencies around here get that type of link. Wear it always. You'll find that it can help you get into the restaurants on Luna a lot easier than flashing a wad of bills. Second, this is a Personal Identification Card. Think of it as a combination driver's license, bank card, credit card, medical ID card, and any other kind of monetary or identification card on Earth. We've arranged with the major banks on Earth so that your card can be used in place of one of theirs. The credit line is pretty well unlimited and, theoretically, you could buy an aircraft carrier with it, but I'd sure as hell want to know why you did.

"Last, and while I'm sure you've grown fond of whatever sidearm you currently carry, I'm having a PPG issued to you. PPG stands for Phased Plasma Gun. It takes a magazine called a capsule or cap. Three settings on the gun here. Setting one stuns a target. Setting two kills a target. Setting three kills in one shot and is strong enough to burn through several layers of steel. At setting one, you get twelve shots from a cap. At setting three, you'll get maybe four shots. The best part is that the grip is DNA encoded to the user. Anyone else grabbing your gun gets a mild electrical shock when they squeeze the trigger, enough to make them drop it. It will fire only for the person it's genetically encoded to. Questions?"

"Standard procedure on Earth says that agents from the CIA aren't armed. Does that apply here?"

"Arm them. Last thing I want is more deaths on my conscious."

"Another question."

"Shoot."

"Where's my office?"

"Smart ass. Ask my aide in the outer office. He'll get you set up with an office and a personal assistant. Go on. Get out of here. I've got way too much paperwork to do."

"Thanks for the opportunity."

"Git!"

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US Federal Court

Washington, DC

0900 Monday

"…Court is now in Session. The Honorable Thomas Wilson presiding…"

"Mr. Hodges, are you ready to proceed?"

"I am, your Honor."

"Very well. Call your first witness."

"The Defense calls Robert Kinsey to the stand."

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"Please state your name and occupation for the record, sir."

"Robert Kinsey. Former US Senator."

"You say former Senator, sir. Why is that?"

"I am on trial here sir, for some perceived misdeed, and my fellow Senators were shown only some of the evidence, without allowing myself a defense, and as such they stripped me of my title."

"I am sorry for that Mr. Kinsey. In regard to these charges leveled against you, what do you have to say?"

"These charges are outright lies. I could never order men and women to perform the deeds with which I have been charged."

"So you didn't order men out into the cities of the United States to kill innocent men and women?"

"I did not."

"What of the tape recording we heard last week?"

"All I can say is that though that might be, and I stress 'MIGHT' be my voice on the tape, I never said those words. I have never been to any Game Ranches, I believe the idea of a ranch where one would hunt caged game is abhorrent in the extreme."

"How then, do you explain the evidence that the Government has entered?"

"Manufactured so as to discredit me in the upcoming elections."

"What of the charges that you revealed classified information?"

"I believe that the people of the United States have a right to know all of the secret goings on within our government. I believe that no information should be classified, for a government that does things in secret is not fulfilling the will of the people."

"But can you confirm or deny that you released this information?"

"I not only will confirm it, but given the opportunity to bring such information to the light of the public eye, I will gladly do so!"

"It's on the record that you attempted to disclose information about the Stargate Program at least twice, is that correct?"

"Again, given the opportunity I would have done so as many times as possible. The first time I went to the facility with the Stargate, I did so because I wanted to see what program was hidden under a specific line item in the defense budget of the United States. That line item was called only 'Area 52' and it had a budget then of seven point four billion dollars. The People pay their taxes and they elect people like me to make sure that we spend their hard-earned tax dollars appropriately. I went with an open mind to their facility after having been briefed on their near disasters by a Pentagon officer. But I was asked to keep an open mind about the project by the President."

"I see. Who was the President at the time?"

"Robert Fowler. He was rather taken, as I recall, with the antics of the SG-1 team. I, on the other hand, was not. I full well believe that their actions, more often than not, endangered Earth and for that reason I attempted to not only shut that program down, but to disclose the events there."

"Did you try a second time, sir?"

"I did. And it was only the intervention of the Asgard that prevented my success."

"The intervention of the Asgard? Why did they interfere in what was clearly a domestic matter?"

"I do not know the answer to that save that they demanded that unless the Stargate program remained where it was and under the leadership it had then, they would cease all dealings with us."

"The threat of an alien species kept the program in the dark, as it were?"

"It did."

"Given the opportunity, sir, would you change anything about how the program is run now that it has become public knowledge?"

"I would take the program away from the military and turn it into a civilian agency, one with full oversight by the government."

"Thank you sir. No more questions, your Honor."

"Mr. Martin?"

"Thank you, your Honor."

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"Mr. Kinsey, are you frequently given over to flights of fancy?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question?"

"You stated earlier, in reference to the audio tape, that while that may have been your voice, that you never uttered those words, correct?"

"That is correct. The voice on the tape does sound remarkably like mine, but we both know that with the new technologies available today, you could take a set of my speeches and have me say practically anything."

"I see. And would your answer be the same regarding the video tape of your meeting at the game ranch in Texas?"

"Yes. All these new technologies that we suddenly find ourselves with, from these aliens that Jack Ryan has entered into treaties with, with all of that new tech, I believe it would be very easy to create a video or audio tape of my saying or doing anything."

"So you deny these charges against you?"

"Vehemently deny these charges against me. I wanted to run nothing but an honest campaign, yet I can see my opponent has done anything but."

"How so?"

"These charges and fabricated evidence clearly indicate that Jack Ryan is behind all of it! The man is not fit for politics! Has he not repeatedly stated to the media that he has no training as a politician? I daresay, sir, that this statement alone should drive the people to vote for anyone other than President Ryan!"

"Do you know the definition of a politician, sir?"

"Of course I do. A politician is…"

"Forgive me for interrupting you sir. But would you agree to the statement that a politician is a male or female that is involved in politics or that holds a public office, and that the term politician is generally restricted in the United States to someone that is elected or appointed to such an office?"

"That is an appropriate definition."

"What sort of person could become a politician, sir? Could a farmer or a rancher become a politician?"

"Yes of course they could. Our government was founded on the principle of 'of the people, by the people, and for the people', after all."

"So, by your own statement, a person from any walk of life could hold public office?"

"Well, we tend to limit that to those who have held legitimate jobs. I mean, while a drug dealer may be qualified to run for office, I for one would not want that person to hold it. There is too much temptation to those in power to abuse the power that comes with their chosen office."

"And if a person elected to public office abuses the power of that office, what should be done to them?"

"I would say that such an abuse is a crime, and that with all crime in these United States, should be punishable by an appropriate sentence after a judgment by their peers."

"One final question, sir, just to clear my understanding of your earlier statements regarding the audio and video recordings of your person."

"It was not me that said those things, sir. Yes, I am running for the highest office in the land, however, I fully intended to run an honest and forthright campaign. That I have been charged with these abhorrent crimes speaks to the levels to which my opponents will stoop to prevent me from achieving that office."

"Thank you sir. No more questions for this witness."

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"Mr. Hodges?"

"The defense rests."

"Your Honor, at this time, the people would like to call a number of rebuttal witnesses to testify as to the statements the defendant made regarding the audio and video recordings."

"Objection! Your Honor, there was no prior notice of these so called rebuttal witnesses!"

"How many witnesses do you intend to call, Mr. Martin?"

"Enough to fully and completely rebut the defendant's testimony. We have in protective custody, the members of the assassination teams, the employees of Buck's Game Ranch, and Robert Hayden."

"Objection! Why is my client's chief of staff being called as a witness? He was certainly not on any witness list!"

"We have him on our possible list of rebuttal witnesses, your Honor."

"Overruled, Mr. Hodges. The hour is growing late. Court is in recess until tomorrow morning at which time, Mr. Martin, you may proceed with the rebuttal witnesses."

"Thank you your Honor."

"Your Honor!"

"What is it, Mr. Hodges?"

"Against my better judgment, my client wishes to make a brief statement to the court before we recess for the day."

"Please be brief, Mr. Kinsey."

"Of course. I can see the government's plan now. It should have been obvious from the start, but I had my faith placed in the judicial system. You're all against me. You have been from the start! At this time, your Honor, I would like to change my plea from not guilty, to guilty, and I ask for the Mercy of the Court."

"This is certainly something I had not expected. Very well. Let the record reflect that the defendant, Robert Kinsey, has changed his plea from not guilty to guilty. Furthermore, I am ordering an immediate psychiatric evaluation to be conducted forthwith. From your statements, Mr. Kinsey, it is evident to me that you are clearly unbalanced, sir. The sentencing hearing will be one week from today, pending the psychiatric evaluation. Court is in recess until then."

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One Week Later

Sentencing Phase

"The court, having read the documents and reports as provided by the court appointed Psychiatrist, accepts the plea of Guilty, as made by the defendant, Robert Kinsey. Before I pass sentence on this matter, I feel it my place to instruct the defendant on a simple matter, the notion of government.

"Good government, sir, never depends entirely on the laws it creates, but upon the personal qualities of those whom We the People elect to govern us. The government must always be subordinate to the will of the People. There exists, however, a limit to the force even the People may apply without destroying themselves. Judging this limit is the truest artistry of the People. Misuse of that artistry is the most fatal of sins. The will of the People can never be a tool of vengeance, never a hostage, nor a fortification against the very martyrs we have created in the name of good government. You sir, can not threaten an individual and escape the consequences.

"The oft times indeterminate wording of the very laws we strive to uphold have grown up around the necessity to hide from the People the very violence we intend upon one another. Between depriving a person of one hour of their life and depriving a person of their life, there exists only the smallest of differences. Elaborate speeches and gestures might have concealed your intentions, sir, but behind any abuse of power there remains one very evident truth. You are truly and uniquely known by that which you despise.

"Robert Kinsey, having pled guilty to the charges against you, it is the decision of this court to sentence you to one life term for each of the murders with which you have been charged, to be served concurrently. The court further decides that on the charges of fraud, you, Robert Kinsey, be sentenced to a term of no less than twelve years and no more than fifteen years on each count of fraud. Lasting, and in regards to the charge of treason, this court sentences you to life in prison, a term to be carried out after your other sentences have been fulfilled. Court is now adjourned."

"You know, Dan, I had no idea the Judge was such a fan of Frank Herbert."

"What do you mean, Pat?"

"The statement the Judge made. I recognized most of it. Straight from the pages of the Dune series. Herbert's thoughts on law and government were required readings when I was in law school."

"Hmm. It was quite appropriate though."

"Indeed it was, Dan. Indeed it was."

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New York City

After so many weeks of tracking down killers and then testifying as to their actions, Jake wanted to relax for a few days before heading back to Luna. He'd had this feeling over the last several days, as the trial wound down, that something major was coming up, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. He wasn't alone in the City this day. Patrick Martin, the Attorney General for the United States, had early on told him that he might call Byron as a witness, but that had proven unwarranted.

Of course, he had called Liv as soon as he knew where he was staying, but as he had an extra person with him that was totally unfamiliar with the city, the last thing he wanted to do was leave the man by himself in the hotel room. Liv told him to swing by the station house about six that evening, and that she would have that problem solved.

In the meantime, Connor MacLeod had asked Jake to pick up a few items for him from his storage warehouse. Jake and Byron made short work of the requested items, wondering how MacLeod's neighbors on Luna would like hearing the man play the Pipes. Jake hadn't ever heard him play, but that didn't mean very much. Bagpipes were not for the faint of heart. After Jake saw the nice display cases filled with all manner of historical items, it made Jake rather contemplative. He had many such items in his possession. Perhaps it was time to bring them out of storage as well and show them off to the world. Connor had indicated to Jake that the requested items were to be loaned to the new Lunar Museum of History and that many other Immortals would be lending pieces to the displays.

Before they knew it, it was five in the afternoon, and the two men now had to rush to make their appointment on time. Byron was feeling nothing from Jake, but that wasn't anything unusual.

As they walked into the station house, Byron was immediately assaulted with all manners of vile imagery coming from various, what he guessed were interrogation rooms. But in all honesty, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen such things before. Even in his time, in his universe, there were men and women with thoughts of violence.

"Ranger Sheridan! What brings you back to our lovely squad room?"

"Finn! Nice to see you again. Just stopping by to see Olivia. Oh, and by the way, I'm not with the Rangers anymore. Protector Sheridan, at your service, Detective. This is my partner, Byron."

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Tutuola."

"Any friend of Sheridan's, is a friend of mine. You need anything, just ask."

"Finn? Where's Liv?"

"She and Stabler have a perp in Room One. Cap should be in the observation room. Remember where that's at?"

"Refresh my memory, would you?"

"Sure. Back this way."

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"Hey Cap, look who I found!"

"Ranger! I knew you'd be back. No one stays away from the Big Apple for long."

"Well, I do try to avoid it, but I'm here strictly for pleasure. This is my partner, Byron."

"Wrapped up your last case? The one in Las Vegas?"

"Oh yeah. That one's in the bag. We put away sixteen men for that one. Five three-man killing teams, and one Presidential Candidate."

"That was your case? Ya know, I actually thought about voting for Kinsey…for all of about half a second."

"So did a lot of other people apparently. The man may be in prison now, awaiting transference to his final cell, but he still managed to get a couple million votes. So, who's the mutt you got in there?"

"Sheridan. He's guilty."

"Byron?"

"The man they have in there. His thoughts are very loud. He may have a straight face, but inside his mind, he's laughing at his perceived ineptitude of your detectives. They are questioning him regarding one rape and murder, but he has committed well over thirty of them. All of them prostitutes. Have one of your detectives ask him about bathing in their blood. Ask him why he believes himself to be their savior. Have them ask him about why he believes himself to be the reincarnation of 'Jack, The Ripper'. It should unbalance him enough."

"How could you know all that, Mr. Byron?"

"It's just Byron, actually."

"Cap, this is another one of those Immortal perks. In Byron's case, the extra gift manifested itself as an ability to read thoughts."

"Mind reading? He's got to be kidding!"

"Quite the contrary Captain. I highly doubt that Protector Sheridan ever bluffs."

"You. You. You saw what I was thinking?"

"The thought was loud enough, sir."

"Speechless, Cap? Byron does have that effect on people."

As soon as Detective Stabler asked the suspect about bathing in the victim's blood, well, it was almost as if someone had tripped a switch. The man became quite agitated and then suddenly very calm. He laughed a bit and then spoke in what sounded like a cultured British accent. He made a full confession and a pair of uniformed officers led him away to a holding cell pending his arraignment.

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Later that evening, the four of them, Benson and Sheridan, and Byron and his 'date' for the evening, Alexandra Cabot, were seated in a quiet little restaurant in upper Manhattan. It had been a pleasant evening thus far, but Sheridan was blind to the obvious looks that Byron and Benson were exchanging. But Cabot wasn't. She felt sorry for the man.

"Liv, there's something I need to say."

"Yes, Jake?"

"I got word from Luna earlier. Apparently I've impressed the Council with this last investigation. They have something else in mind for me for the next few months, and odds are I won't be getting back to Earth for a while."

"I'm sorry to hear that Jake."

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Earth Space

Peregrine Fighter

Enroute to Luna

The computer beeped for his attention, though his mind was elsewhere. The recent break-up of his budding relationship with Olivia Benson still fixed firmly in his mind. They had parted as friends, but he knew that as much as he might have wanted to spend a lifetime with her, it would be unfair to Liv. He finally glanced down at the insistent beeping and read the screen. The headlines were succinct and to the point: Former Sen. Robert Kinsey Killed in Prison.

The details were never officially released in their entirety to the media, but to those in the know, those who had investigated the man for the murders he conspired to commit, knew that he had been 'accidentally' placed into the general population area prior to his transfer to a solitary confinement area. The autopsy report was tailor made for nightmares or a horror movie. A total of ninety-three stab wounds, several major gashes, and a missing tongue. A note was left behind in Kinsey's blood: "Dead, tongue-less men speak no tales, in this life or the next."

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