2: Allies

October 22nd, 2023

It was a quiet morning within the SGC. No teams were off world for the time being, and the embarkation room was the picture of quiet. John stood at the conference room window, looking down upon the gate-room absently, mug of warm coffee in one hand as he mulled over recent troubles. Behind him was the long, glazed wooden conference table, surrounded by vacant chairs whilst, at the far end, a more recent addition was situated. That addition was a large LED display showing a map of the Milky Way galaxy. Numerous points were marked in red, denoted by the names and/or computer designations of the planets and stars they orbited. It was routinely updated with new information brought back by teams returning from off-world, and it was, in the simplest terms, a map of the war.

John sometimes found himself looking at it for extended periods, sometimes thinking of the places marked upon it that he knew of, even more so those planets he had visited before. The display was fixed to the wall, overtaking the window that looked on into the office of General Floyd Janssen, the current commander of the facility. Janssen was not in there at the moment, presumably busy elsewhere with Air Force General business. John shifted his gaze from the embarkation room below and towards the war map once again, the light fittings inside the conference room offering a pleasant white fluorescence.

The Calsharan home-world was marked first and foremost, nestled in some distant corner of the galaxy. From there, the Calsharan advance had progressed, with numerous minor worlds being annexed across the galaxy by expeditions made through the stargates of those worlds. Primitive human populations were being subjugated, with any useful resources being taken whilst mines and the like were opened up on the more resource-rich planets. The Calsharan space fleets, of which there were several, were marked as well. However, information as to their whereabouts were sparse at best, with their estimated locations being broad and of no real help. Galaxies were vast, after all. A smattering of dots upon a simplified map of one did not show the real nuances, as there were still countless more planets between each subjugated world.

It was the important ones that were detailed most: the Free Jaffa Nation, effectively severed down the middle by the Calsharan advance. And the makalvari, specifically the Republic of Makvar, which was close to the major Calsharan colony systems and as such was seeing a lot of the fighting. And there, far across the galaxy from all of this, lay Earth. Little more than a pale blue dot, with nary a (known) threat in any close astronomical proximity. No wonder the powers that be here on Earth had no interest in getting involved. John could understand this, in a way: the galaxy was vast, and what was happening was likely to stay far and away from them. On that note, it was just as likely to find its way to Earth, especially as they already had a history with the Calsharan people. After all, a former member of the team, a Captain Joanne Bowers, had gone back in time and become the founder of their civilisation, uniting the disparate clans and colonies into one fighting force. All to respond to a great threat, an alien species from beyond the reaches of the galaxy that the Calsharans, under 'Visala' as Joanne had become known, had beaten back. And now that threat was returning, although they were yet to make their presence widely known.

John knew they were out there. Everyone on his team knew as much, as did General Janssen. Nobody outside of Stargate Command seemed too concerned. Myths and legends, rumours of monstrous beings and demonic creatures on the prowl. It was not anything your usual Washington DC politician would believe. The only time they might is if Satan himself stumbled into Congress, and even then the folks inside would probably see nothing out of the ordinary.

It was a mess, in the simplest sense. A grand mess that encompassed a large chunk of the galaxy. And here they were, sitting back and allowing the Calsharans to expand their empire and increase their strength. One day they would come for Earth. Give it time and their ships would be jumping into the solar system en masse, no doubt declaring that they 'came in peace'. A more renegade element of their military had already tried to launch a covert biological strike against Earth several months prior, one that John and the others had stopped. In turn, that had only revealed the existence of a deeper conspiracy here on Earth, where a battle-station more than three miles long had been constructed in secret near Jupiter. Who had built it and why, truly? Joanne had taken that ship back with her, ironically for it to serve as the basis for modern Calsharan technology. It was no wonder they had such an edge over everybody else.

During the years between his time on the Atlantis expedition and his leading SG-1, John had lived a fairly mundane life. Off-world trips had been rare, and he had spent much of his time semi-retired with the odd assignment to train new recruits. It had been simpler then, if somewhat boring. To be dragged back into it all had been a blessing and a curse. He was doing what he had come to love, and in turn he had to deal with a multitude of headaches, not to mention all those people (human or otherwise) who wanted to kill him.

That thought only put his mind to his latest mission, one that had seen him plunge headlong into a warzone and come out with little more than an alien computer for his trouble. The Calsharan Major Ravus had been dead on arrival, despite the best efforts made to revive him. They had a good knowledge of Calsharan physiology, and as such knew how best to try and resuscitate one of them, but Ravus had simply been too far gone. He had died, taking his valuable information with him, among which was the means to decrypt the computer he had brought along. He had mentioned, in his original communication with the SGC, that he had information pertaining to a dangerous new weapon. Whatever it was, John had a feeling they would not be finding out too much about it anytime soon. Not unless some miracle occurred over in the computer lab.

Staying on the sidelines of this war, especially when allies such as the Free Jaffa were fighting and dying, did not sit at all well with John. For the better part of a year they had sat back and allowed the war to run its course, offering some support in the form of weapons and supplies, much of which was handed to the Jaffa. Even that was fairly minor, as the higher-ups did not want to waste too much valuable materiel on a war they had no part in. All the while they sat back and allowed the figurative Calsharan alligator to eat up others, hoping that it did not set its eyes upon them. John had since given up trying to convince those politicians running the show that the Calsharans would set their sights on Earth eventually; that allowing them to conquer and build their empire and expand their war machine was a mistake. Despite his record, many still saw him as a bit of a rogue, notorious for taking matters into his own hands when orders may have dictated otherwise.

He took a sip of his coffee. It was lukewarm now, and he winced when it hit his tongue. The temperature and bitter flavour saw him tip the remainder of the cup into the small dustbin at one corner of the room. As he did so, he heard a voice sound from the doorway further behind him:

"Is the coffee no good, Colonel Sheppard?" Aithris. John turned around, watching as the alien warrior strode inside, wearing a set of green fatigues much the same as those John wore. Aithris' were a fair size larger, and the short sleeves only accentuated his muscular arms.

"It's terrible," John replied. "And I made it." He put the mug down upon the conference table, offering Aithris a slightly quirked brow. "What brings you up here?"

"I could ask you that same question, Colonel." Aithris stopped a short distance before him. He appeared his usual stoic self, a quality John had figured was more of a front for him. Aithris had lost a lot in the past several months, first his father and then his home-world. 'Sanctuary' had been the Nomad home-world for three hundred years, and it had been obliterated during a Calsharan attack. John had been there and seen it happen, had tried to do all he could to stop it. Instead of going off with the survivors to their new colony, Aithris had stayed behind and joined the team. He was one of the finest fighters John had ever seen, fighting with a finesse that spoke of years of training and plenty of experience.

"I came looking for you," Aithris added. "I don't know if you've been told, but the makalvari representative is on his way."

"What?" John frowned. The makalvari were an ally, in some minor, roundabout way. Even so, John did not entirely trust them, even more so now when their effort in the war was becoming so desperate.

"Captain Kav'rak, he should be here any minute." Aithris glanced towards the windows and towards the stargate below. "He's here to get that computer Ravus gave us."

"No one told me that," John remarked, some small spike of anger rising in him. He did not appreciate being left out of the loop, especially when it concerned something of potentially great importance.

"It happened on short notice," Aithris said. He walked up to the windows, with John sidling up alongside him. "It was part of the agreement, that we kept them apprised of all goings-on to do with the Calsharans. That includes intelligence gathered."

"I'm familiar with the 'agreement'," John replied, unable to keep himself from sounding a little sour. He had been there when the 'agreement' had been signed, and he had looked on with mixed feelings as the makalvari military official, Brigade Leader Tav'kar, had signed the formal document before the Vice President, the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defence. There had also been a bunch of other officials there from Washington, and the whole thing had been almost ceremonial in nature. Tav'kar had been joined by Captain Kav'rak and a pair of armoured bodyguards, with the Captain looking especially dour as the whole occasion had played out. Unsurprisingly, the makalvari had left before the subsequent dinner had been ready, leaving the human officials to mingle amongst themselves and pat each other on the back whilst enjoying some good, proper food.

"I think they were very interested in that computer, at least according to what I've heard," Aithris said. "They clearly think it's important."

"And they're coming here?" That was unusual. After that whole 'ceremony', there had been very few visits from the makalvari. Most communication with them was conducted over radio and video-link through an active stargate.

"Apparently." As if on cue, the stargate down in the embarkation room whirred to life, with chevrons lighting up in quick succession. The voice of the control room's chief technician sounded throughout the facility:

"Off-world activation. General Janssen report to the gate-room."

"That must be them," Aithris said. He turned to John, offering him a wry smile. This, in turn, bared a pair of pointed canines that sat slightly ahead of blunter, almost human-like, teeth. Like the forward incisors on a cat, complete with a slight overbite. "Maybe you and I should go and meet with the esteemed Captain?"

John nodded his head in agreement. If this was about the computer he had risked his life to get a hold of, then by all means he was going to stick his head in and find out what was going on and why the makalvari had decided to come by in person for a change.

He started out of the conference room, with Aithris following. The path took them down a set of steps and through the control room, where Brigadier General Floyd Janssen had just entered. He was in his blue Air Force uniform, his face carrying its usual hard frown as he paused by the seated technician and looked through the windows ahead to the stargate. The iris had closed over the shimmering event horizon, but a message flashed upon the terminal in front of the pair whilst John watched on. An identifying code had been received.

"It's the makalvari," the technician announced.

"Let them through," Janssen ordered, and he turned for the exit, only to set his eyes upon John. "I suppose you're here to tell me these guys can't be trusted?"

"Can they, sir?"

Janssen shrugged, before he walked by the Colonel and exited the control room. John followed, with Aithris close behind. Down another set of steps and along a short corridor brought them into the gate-room, where a handful of Marines stood guard whilst a very familiar alien stepped out of the wormhole, the iris having opened. Aithris paused by the doorway, with John following Janssen towards the foot of the ramp before the stargate.

Most of those here who had met a makalvari often referred to them as the 'birds', given the avian-like appearance these aliens carried. Captain Kav'rak was, from what John understood, in his thirties if one were to liken his age to that of a human's. He was tall, with a powerful athletic build and deep grey skin, his eyes a stark yellow in colour and his head shaped with a noticeable beak-like snout which was lined with short, pointed teeth. The legs of a makalvari were digitigrade, wherein the heels of the feet did not touch the ground, akin to something on a cat or a dog. Kav'rak's head sprouted a sizable plume of deep black feathers, and he wore a shining gold chain around his neck. To add to the pomp, his dark green, almost black uniform was adorned with multiple-coloured ribbons, indicating his past awards and commendations of which there were several. A decorated officer and, as John had gathered, an aristocrat who hailed from a powerful family on his home-world. Makalvari society was heavily class-based, and whilst Captain Kav'rak enjoyed rank and influence, not to mention material wealth, it was readily apparent that his two bodyguards in rugged sets of red and brown armour hailed from harder backgrounds. This was not a merit-based society in the slightest.

A door slid open at the other side, with a uniformed technician hurrying into the room. He carried with him the Calsharan data-pad, something that caught John's eye immediately.

"Hold on, General," he said, catching Janssen's attention. "You're not thinking…"

Janssen held up a hand, a signal to stop. John obeyed, despite his growing unease.

"General." Kav'rak's voice was gravelly, his mouth partially open in what John assumed was his attempt at a friendly smile. The makalvari Captain paused at the foot of the ramp, with him offering the General a four-digited hand in greeting. Janssen shook it briefly. Behind the pair of makalvari bodyguards, the pulsing event horizon vanished, the light of the stargate's chevrons going with it. The flashing lights about the room that denoted an active wormhole also switched off, with the place falling quiet.

"Hello, Captain." Janssen looked to the makalvari officer and nodded his head. "I understand you could help us with what we've found?"

"That is so," Kav'rak replied. He looked about the room then, settling his eyes upon John. "Colonel Sheppard, a pleasure to see you."

"Is it, really?" John asked him. Kav'rak just managed that same toothy smile again.

"If you want it to be," he answered. He looked to Aithris, who lingered by the doorway at the left with his arms folded over his chest, violet eyes set in a scrutinising frown. "And the noble Nomad Aithris. I find it unusual that you have thrown in your lot with these humans."

"I have my reasons," Aithris stated.

"Don't we all?" Kav'rak shifted his attention back to General Janssen. "Now, General, as stated in our discussion earlier, I have specialists back home well-versed in Calsharan computer encryption. I can practically guarantee you that we will have that computer unlocked in a matter of days." He put out a hand, his yellow eyes flitting over to the technician who stood nearby carrying the data-pad. "I do understand any trepidation you have in handing it over, but the efficiency at which our specialists will unlock the secrets on that device will benefit both of our peoples."

"I'm surprised you guys came running here so quickly," John interjected, catching the Captain's eye. "Almost as if you're worried about what we might find on it."

"We agreed to share intelligence," Kav'rak countered, his voice taking on a grimmer tone. "And since we are best equipped to uncover this intelligence you have most recently gathered, then it is only logical to let us work on it. The benefit will be mutual."

"Uh-huh." John was unconvinced. "You guys only come round when it suits you, and you sure as hell don't share everything you find out."

"I am not in charge of what is shared," Kav'rak said. "I am simply the messenger. Besides, Colonel, General Janssen here has already agreed to hand it over."

John looked to Janssen, who nodded his head. His expression was grim, betraying some degree of uncertainty.

"If they can unlock it fast, then we'll be better off." Janssen did not sound entirely convinced, but it was apparent that their own people were unlikely to figure it out anytime soon. John would have thought there was some Ancient-built computer somewhere, such as on Atlantis, that might help. Yet, he did not know where Atlantis was, in fact it seemed no one around here did. Apparently, that was above his security clearance, which was ironic seeing as how he had been one of the first on Atlantis when the expedition had set off. His clearance was high, but apparently it could go even higher.

"This is the biggest break we've had in months," John said. "And we're just going to hand it over?"

"They do need it more than we do, Colonel." Janssen was right, of course. The makalvari were bearing the brunt of the Calsharan assault. They need all the help they could get. "And they are our allies."

"When it suits them, sir."

Janssen did not say anything to this. Kav'rak shot John an annoyed glance before he reached over, with the technician handing him the sleek Calsharan computer. He examined the display, turning the device about in his hands, before he tucked it under one arm and gave the General a satisfied nod.

"Very good, General. We shall keep in touch."

Janssen motioned up to the people in the control room. They were to start dialling the makalvari home-world, with Kav'rak and his escort stepping off of the ramp while the stargate whirred into life, the inner ring clunking as each chevron gradually locked.

"How goes the war, anyway?" John asked Kav'rak, genuinely curious. The makalvari Captain eyed him suspiciously, as if detecting some underlying meaning to the question. Did he seriously think John wanted to hear of his people being routinely beaten and pushed further and further back?

"Well enough," Kav'rak lied, and John knew right away it was a lie. A lie based on pride, for Captain Kav'rak would not admit defeat and neither would most proper officers in his people's armed forces.

Ahead, the wormhole activated once more, casting the group in its pleasant and pulsing blue-white light. Kav'rak started up the ramp, joined by his bodyguards. Janssen and the others watched them go, with John feeling that they had just handed off something critical. Would they see it again? He would not hold his breath for that one.

"We'll be in touch," Kav'rak declared, a few steps before he went into the shimmering puddle of energy. His escort followed, and a moment later the wormhole dissipated. Once again, a relative quiet fell across the embarkation room. Janssen turned to John, no doubt looking to pre-empt any complaints he made.

"You look troubled, Colonel." Janssen had an excellent grasp on the obvious, it seemed. "You're worrying over nothing. It took some doing, but we used some of the Calsharan tech we've recovered to copy everything on that data-pad."

John cocked one brow, surprised to hear this, and he met the General's suddenly light-hearted gaze. A smile was on his face, and he patted John on the back. John, in turn, replied with a smirk of his own. He supposed he should have known better, that Janssen would not be so naïve enough to hand over potentially sensitive data without keeping a copy for himself.

"Just in case," Janssen said, before he started for the exit. "Just in case."


"We don't know nearly enough about them." Daniel talked in that fast, eager fashion he often adopted whenever he spoke of a subject that greatly interested him. In this case, it was the makalvari, their current 'allies' in the fight against the Calsharan war of expansion. He did so whilst he picked at his Caesar salad with a fork, picking up a piece of grilled chicken that he in turn put to his mouth. Seated across from Aithris in the SGC's cafeteria, Daniel looked to the Nomad with keen interest, searching for his opinion. Aithris, meanwhile, munched quietly on some lettuce. His salad lacked the meat, as his people were vegetarians.

It was roughly midday, so that lunchtime rush was starting up. The cafeteria was becoming busy, with most of the tables occupied by at least one person. A television at the corner was switched on, and a pair of airmen sat on the sofas before it, watching the football game being broadcast with varying levels of glee and disappointment. The former whenever their team scored, the latter whenever one of their players fumbled and lost the ball.

"You've had experience with them," Daniel continued, swallowing the piece of chicken.

"I told you all I know," Aithris replied. He was preoccupied, something that had become rather frequent for him lately. He thought of home, or what counted as 'home' these days: the Nomad settlement on the planet designated as P4T-991 was little more than a village, complete with modest timber homes. With the help of the humans of Earth, his people were gradually building up a thriving community. And yet, of the three million of his people who had lived on Sanctuary, only about twenty thousand had escaped alive. Barely a drop in the ocean, as the humans might say. His kind were, from all appearances, an endangered species.

"What about their technology?" Daniel asked. "It has to be similar to what the Calsharans have, surely?"

"Similar in some ways, but a little less advanced," Aithris answered, meeting the archaeologist's gaze. He had come to consider Daniel a friend, as well as Colonel Sheppard and Sergeant Tarasovna. They had all helped him, had gone to some lengths to help his people. The least he could do was return the favour however he might. Even so, he did find himself longing for home, that is, the home he had lost. The village on that non-descript remote world did not feel much like home at all, and the only one there he had any real connection with was his mother. She had encouraged him to stay here and fight alongside the humans of Earth, had more or less made it clear that it was his 'destiny'. She said little more about the visions she had, visions of the future that nearly always seemed to come to pass. She no doubt knew more than she was letting on, but she knew better than to say as much. If the powers behind the universe wanted him here, with SG-1, then that is exactly where he would remain. And, at the end of the day, he really did not mind it here.

"They rely much on ballistic weapons, as your people do," he continued. "Things such as 'magnetic rail guns', similar to those you mount on your starships."

"Jonas told me about their home-world," Daniel said, and he shovelled another bunch of leaves into his mouth. He chewed quickly, swallowing in turn in order to speak clearly again. "A lot of water, a lot of tropical islands. And their royal palace is a sight to see, or so he says."

Jonas Quinn was an old acquaintance of Daniel's, a human from a world called 'Langara'. It was he who had brought the makalvari's attention to Earth, allowing for the alliance to be made. Jonas was now an 'advisor' here of sorts, essentially living as a political refugee as the government on his home-world was apparently intent on imprisoning him. He, along with Captain Kav'rak, had been on Langara and had witnessed what they now knew to be a 'Herald': a creature at the service of the 'Void Demons' Aithris' own people had spent so long preparing to fight, and the Herald had been colluding with corrupt elements of the Langaran government. Not to mention, the Herald had also corrupted the Nomad people's own overseer, Torrant, in an effort to prevent Joanne Bowers' trip to the past. Heralds were merely advance agents sent ahead of the main force to corrupt and subvert, and they had a knack for picking out those people in positions of power mostly likely to turn corrupt.

"Theirs is a very aristocratic society," Aithris said. "If you are born a poor makalvari, then you will likely remain as much. And even, if by some good fortune, you amass wealth for yourself, the higher echelons of that society still will not accept you. You are who you are through birth, and not by what you make of yourself, as goes the makalvari way."

"There are some societies on Earth much the same." Daniel took a gulp of his apple juice. "It's kind of backwards, admittedly, but it's not our position to judge. They have their ways and we have ours."

"Much of their armed forces consists of the poor and desperate." Aithris had researched the makalvari to some degree, during his younger years whilst being trained for the elite guard on Sanctuary. "It's seen as a last resort for most people. Of course, their more recent conflicts have resulted in conscription across the board. A lot of reluctant soldiers bolster their ranks. In all honesty, Daniel, I think it's a miracle they have held out as long as they have. They have been in near constant fighting with the Calsharans for years, with cease-fires happening every so often. This latest conflict is the largest one they've faced, and they won't last. I give them months, not years, before the Calsharans are marching through the streets of their capital." Aithris gave a light shrug then, noticing the concerned frown Daniel gave. "That's simply my view. It may not happen, but it is likely to."

"We should be helping them more."

"But you won't. And I don't mean you personally, Daniel. I mean the people of this world. Your leaders are content to allow the Calsharans to place as many worlds as they can under their heels. It is wise, to save yourselves for when the true enemy appears, but it won't help much if the Calsharans strike Earth with the greater strength they would have acquired from expanding their holdings."

Daniel nodded his head. The Calsharans had already tried and failed to strike Earth once, and that had been by a renegade faction of their military. What would happen if an entire fleet decided to show? Would Earth's own space-fleet be capable of holding them off?

"The true enemy," Daniel repeated. "We haven't seen any of them for months."

"They're out there," Aithris countered, and he could not keep his voice from adopting a more serious, biting tone. "We saw one of them on Sanctuary. One of their servants."

"We all know they're out there. They just seem to be taking their time." Daniel had done his research, found the odd writing here and there on far away worlds that hinted towards this galactic menace. Rumours and legends mostly, which made attempting to work out just what it was they truly faced all the more difficult.

There followed a pause. Daniel finished off his salad, whilst Aithris picked absently at his food with a fork. He did not feel too hungry now, and he gently pushed the bowl aside, leaving the fork in it.

"Something wrong?" Daniel asked him, his concern genuine.

"I'm not hungry," Aithris said.

"There's more to it than that, I can tell. Your eyes, Aithris." Daniel gave a friendly smile. "They say a lot."

"Am I so easy to read?"

"Not too easy, but I can tell you're preoccupied." Daniel took up a fork then, pushing aside the empty bowl in front of him and moving into its place a plate whereupon a vanilla slice was situated. "I know the look, because I usually see it on myself when I look in the mirror." He pointed a finger to his short brown hair, gesturing to the flecks of grey visible within it. "I keep seeing these grey hairs as well. Sometimes I think I'm getting too old for this kind of thing, but then I realise there's nothing else I'd rather be doing."

"You have a place here, as I do."

"Destiny, you could say?"

"I'm sure my mother would." Aithris watched as Daniel put the fork to the vanilla slice, attempting to cut through the top layer of icing and pastry. Instead, the force applied only encouraged the custard filling to spill out the sides.

"Ah, damn." Daniel shovelled some of the filling into his mouth. "These things can be tricky."

"Use your fingers."

"The icing will get them all sticky." Daniel sliced through some of the pastry, icing included. He stuck the fork in it and put it past his lips.

"You know as well as I do, Daniel, that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty," Aithris stated, offering the archaeologist a wry smile. "Or sticky, in this case."


As with a military facility at the scale of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, there were a number of rooms that had gone out of use over the years, relegated for storage and, in some cases, that storage was for things well beyond their use-by date. This even included things such as outdated radio equipment and flak jackets dating back from the Vietnam War, odds and ends that had since been superseded by more sophisticated equipment. And yet, as with most militaries, they were reluctant to throw out everything old. In some crisis or shortage of materiel, one might get some use out of a radio that would have been at home in a World War II movie. It was within one of these old stores, specifically a room deep within the complex put aside for archiving purposes, that Jonas Quinn was digging around.

He did so with relish, perusing one old document after another, and as he sifted through them he was sure to organize them in a more efficient manner if need be, correcting any mistakes made during the initial procedure. The room was large and mostly dark, with Jonas seated at a desk in one corner, cast in the yellowish light of an old desk lamp. Cardboard boxes piled full of old files surrounded him, with scores more layered upon the shelves all around. He had been down here for days, searching for something he could not quite discern. It was simply a feeling he had, that somewhere in the bowels of the SGC he would find the break they needed. Sometimes, one simply had to go back through history to find an answer for today's problems.

Jonas was dressed in a black top and drab green cargo trousers, typical off-duty wear for someone on the base. Once, he had carried the features of a young and almost naïve intellectual and budding politician. Now, his face was becoming increasingly lined as the years went on, his hands were callused from living rough and fighting a guerrilla war during the Ori occupation of Langara and his neck, specifically the left-hand side, sported a noticeable scar that was a good three inches in length. One of his foes had almost slashed open his jugular, and it was by quick reflexes and sheer luck that it had missed the important artery.

And now, Jonas was in exile. Again. It was not the first time his own people's government had branded him a traitor. It did sting a little, seeing as how he had helped lead them out of the darkness of the Ori occupation. Another darkness had taken hold on Langara, and he sought refuge here on Earth whilst he attempted to uncover just what that darkness was.

Jonas had his focus set on the file in front of him when he heard the door open behind him, the old hinges squeaking loudly. Turning about on his chair, Jonas felt some relief to see that it was only Daniel. Even though the occupation had ended years ago, he could not help but remain alert at all times, ready to catch out any enemy who tried to jump him when he was distracted, or even asleep. He sometimes had to remind himself that here on Earth, within this complex, such an occurrence was very unlikely.

"Still down here?" Daniel asked him. He had a plate in his hands, and upon it was a vanilla slice complete with fork and napkin. "I brought you something to eat. Even I have to stop my work and eat sometimes." He walked over to the desk and set the plate down. "That is, sometimes."

"It's fascinating stuff," Jonas said, and he motioned to the file open before him. "Like this one here, it talks about some kind of alien insect with a large stinger?"

Daniel frowned, and he used one finger to push his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah, we ah, try to forget about some of these." He looked about the opened boxes placed on the desk and upon the floor around it. Jonas was certainly engrossed in it all. "I thought you went through all these years ago?"

"I did. Now I'm going through them all again, and that includes every other file pertaining to every other SG team and every piece of research done on alien technology and texts found on those missions." Jonas had pages of notes before him as well, covered in his hurried scrawl. "I feel like we could find something that might help us."

"Like what?"

"Anything." Jonas gave a light shrug. "You never know."

"No, I guess you don't." Daniel was an open-minded sort, so he was not one to judge Jonas' growing obsession with all the old mission reports. "You just stop every now and then, get some sleep, all right? A lack of sleep can make people a little, you know…" He put a finger by his temple and did a quick circular motion with it. His meaning was clear. Jonas chuckled.

"Sure, Daniel. I'll be sure not to go crazy."

Before either of them could speak further, an announcement sounded through the facility's PA system, coupled with the familiar alert bell of activity in the gate-room.

"Unscheduled off-world activation." The technician's voice was somewhat muffled through the dusty speaker in the archive room.

"I should probably check that out," Daniel said, and he hurried out of the room. Jonas was again left to his research, and the quietness and solitude was something he did not mind at all.


There was no chaos in the gate-room, thankfully. In fact, the unscheduled wormhole was deactivated some time before Daniel found his way back to the control room. Instead, the activity seemed focused within the conference room. An unexpected visitor had arrived, yet it was someone he knew well. He walked in to find Janssen and John there, along with the welcome sight of Jaffa Master Bra'tac, outfitted in his old First Prime armour complete with cape. The armour itself bore some scratches and scorch marks, and his ageing face with its short white goatee beard was covered in a layer of sweat and dirt. He had been through recent trouble, judging from his appearance, and as Daniel entered the old Jaffa turned around to greet him.

"Daniel Jackson." Bra'tac stepped towards him, grasping his forearm in the traditional Jaffa greeting. "It is good to see you again." His brown eyes appeared weary, his expression having lightened up only briefly. Something much grimmer took hold of him then, and he released the archaeologist's arm.

Bra'tac was old, even for a Jaffa. And yet, he was still going, pushing on through every day and fighting in the war. For a time, he had been a member of the Free Jaffa Nation's ruling council. One of the most respected council members, and a legend among his people. The Calsharan attack had put a stop to his political career, and in short order Bra'tac had gone back to being the warrior of old, even if his age might have made such a thing more difficult than before. Daniel was always happy to see him, although that gladness was quickly tempered by the old master's grave expression.

"What's brought you here?" Daniel asked him. Janssen and John stood nearby, and both appeared almost as concerned as Bra'tac clearly was. They knew something he did not, and Daniel got the impression he was about to find out what.

"The war, Daniel Jackson." Bra'tac shook his head in a solemn gesture. "The Calsharan occupation of Chulak continues. Our fight to liberate that world has suffered a crippling blow." He paused, as if the news itself was simply too difficult to deliver. He pushed on after a moment, despite his apparent misgivings: "Teal'c has been captured and his life hangs in the balance. Our forces are stretched thin, and he is held deep within enemy territory. I came here to seek help for a rescue. We know him well, you and I. He would not wish for us to spend resources to save him at such a crucial juncture, but if the people of the Tauri were to become involved…"

"Captured?" Daniel was shocked, to say the least. He had not seen much of Teal'c for some time, especially since the war had started. From his understanding, he was a leader in the fight against the Calsharan aggressors, as one would expect from him. An important leader in that sense, as so many Jaffa saw him as a hero, much in the same way they did Bra'tac.

"Indeed," Bra'tac replied. "I know your people wish to keep out of this conflict, a decision I do not agree with. However, if you were to help in the retrieval of Master Teal'c, then I can promise the support of myself and those who follow me in your fight with this other enemy, these 'Demons' you informed me about some time ago." The old man was smart enough to bring something of his own to the table, instead of simply coming by and asking for help without anything to offer in return. If the Calsharans were to be beaten back, then the Free Jaffa would certainly be a help in whatever fights that followed, be it against the 'Void Demons' or anything else for that matter. After all, the Free Jaffa were an ally, had been since the Goa'uld had been defeated. To abandon them now, in the face of Calsharan aggression, had been wrong on a level Daniel found almost intolerable. Hence the support that was routinely passed on to the Jaffa, in the form of weapons and supplies. A token effort and hardly enough to change the tide of the war, but it was better than nothing.

"General?" Daniel looked to Janssen. He would be the one to make the decision on this and judging from his grim expression he seemed to be considering it. John turned to the General as well, his mind already made in favour of the rescue. Even if John did not necessarily know Teal'c all that well, he was not one to leave a man behind, no matter what.

"We'll need intel," Janssen said suddenly, after a pause. "And then we'll decide."