56: Foundation

"Well, Mister President, aren't you pleased that I chose not to go?" Janssen spoke a little louder than he had meant to, and as such John could hear his side of the conversation clear as day from where he was seated in the conference room. General Janssen had his office door wide open and, for the past twenty minutes, he had been in a heated discussion with the President of the United States.

"Yes, well there's nothing I could do about that, sir. I have a ship to run down here, so-to-speak, and playing along with Banachek's political games is not part of my job description. You've allowed me a great deal of leeway in operating this place, and I am grateful for that. Problem is, Mister President, is that we're still a small operation. The SGC is not a big place by any stretch. If you want to start rebuilding Earth's defences, then maybe you could kick some more of that money our way, just a little?" Another pause followed. Janssen listened carefully, seated at his desk with a frown etched upon his ageing features.

Out in the conference room, John sat alone. He had his attention directed towards the main display screen at one end of the room. It was hooked into a variety of online feeds, and he flicked through one after the other, going from one news channel to the next. He had the sound muted for now, although so far all the talk on them was about the attack, specifically the attacks carried out on ground targets by 'alien spacecraft of unknown origin'. Cities had been bombed across the world and flooding had occurred on the coastlines of many South-East Asian nations, all the way up to China and Japan. The energy beam that had struck the ocean floor for all of ten, maybe fifteen seconds had somehow disrupted the tides and currents enough to result in flooding across many coastlines facing the Pacific Ocean. The clean-up would be ongoing for months, and that was not to mention the bombings that the alien craft had carried out.

Even now, John saw footage from places such as London and Moscow and Washington DC. The enemy had targeted capital cities, knowing which ones to strike. Most of the alien fighters had been shot down after their initial raids, whilst a few had fled back into space. The death toll was high, presumably in the millions, and the damage extensive. With so many dead world leaders lost in the battle at Anchorpoint station, the overall diplomatic chaos was seeing disputes erupt all over the world. The public were demanding answers, with no clear ones forthcoming. Fires still raged in some of the damaged cities. The world had changed in a drastic way, and John knew that sooner or later, the fallout would hit the SGC. For now, the stargate remained a secret, buried under the now well-known existence of Earth's own ships and the alien foes that they had been intended to fight. And now many of those ships had been blown to pieces, with their remains still floating in orbit.

'Accountability' was a word that had been thrown around a lot the past couple of days. People wanted someone to blame. Director Thomas Banachek had made himself scarce, although rumour was he had friends in high places who were working hard to shift the blame from him. John did not think it was his fault, not really. No one could have foreseen this, especially when there were some even more powerful people at the top selling out and in league with the 'Void Demons', or at least their representatives.

"I'm glad we agree on something, Mister President," Janssen said. John looked towards the doorway of the General's office, getting a hint that maybe the discussion was coming to a close. "We'll have to discuss this further, once things have settled down. I'm glad to hear you got out okay during the bombing. Give my regards to your wife. Goodbye, Mister President. We'll speak again soon." He hung up the phone and rose from his chair, adjusting the collar of his uniform before he strode out of the office. As expected, Janssen's face wore a firm expression, one marked with lines brought on more by the ongoing headaches his job provided and less by his age. He looked to John and some visible relief splayed across his features.

"All right Colonel, I'm sorry that took so long. The Commander-in-Chief had a lot to say."

"I imagine he did, sir." John watched as Janssen stopped by his usual spot at the head of the table. He remained standing, hands clasping the top of the leather-bound chair. "It's surprising that the White House is still intact. Usually that's what the aliens go after first in the movies."

Janssen frowned at this remark. John gave him a shrug, knowing full well the seriousness of the situation. Still, one had to joke about these things. No use getting pulled down into some sort of depression because of it. At least, that was John's view of it. Their losses were great, there was no denying that. However, they needed to pick themselves up and press on, otherwise their enemies would only be granted further opportunity to wreak further damage.

"Shame about the Pentagon, though," Janssen replied, his frown loosening somewhat.

"Most of the important stuff was underground, so I think we'll recover from that loss well enough." Homeworld Command had been headquartered underneath the Pentagon. It had survived a bombing conducted by the Lucian Alliance years before, although this latest attack had almost levelled the Pentagon complex as a whole. Again, it seemed their enemies had known what targets to go after, even though the attack craft had been few in number and scattered. They had struck what they could before bugging out, either that or simply getting blasted out of the sky. None had come to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, perhaps a stroke of luck. Had that capital ship not been destroyed then it was not a stretch to think that its main weapon would have been turned upon the mountain.

"Things could have been a lot worse," John said.

"Definitely," Janssen added. "One hell of a piece of work you managed up there, Colonel. It'll make those bastards think twice about coming after us again."

From how the attack had played out, it was apparent that their enemy had not counted on Atlantis getting involved. That capital ship, the one that had destroyed so many of their cruisers, would have presumably used its main weapon to annihilate strategic targets across the Earth, perhaps even destroy entire cities. The small amount of attack ships it had deployed had launched their suicide attacks only after the main vessel had been destroyed. So yes, things could have been much worse. A million casualties were better than half a billion dead, although that was a small consolation to those people who had lost loved ones in the attacks. John and his team had saved the world and they had exposed a conspiracy whilst doing it, one in which the secretive cabal running things behind the scenes had been found out as being in league with the enemy itself. McKay seemed convinced they were fighting the Devil himself, which was strange coming from someone like him. John had seen plenty of crazy over the years, but even that seemed a step too far.

"If they do, sir, we won't have Atlantis to save us." That was the harsh truth of it: Atlantis was as much of a wreck as the ships that had been lost.

"What about the people responsible for this? The ones controlling Atlantis?" Janssen had read his report, as well as the ones made by the other team members. For all that they had learned, there were still some things that remained up-in-the-air.

"That's something I left off of the official records, sir. McKay may have unearthed the identities of the other conspirators, the remaining six of the 'Seven'. The 'Old Man' was just part of the problem."

Janssen nodded in understanding. He had allowed them to go to Atlantis when those higher up the chain had outright instructed him not to get the SGC involved. Whilst John and the others had been on Atlantis fighting, Janssen had been here engaged in a war of words with the various government officials who had called in, shady sorts who had wanted him to keep his people away from Atlantis and the source of the message that had been sent from it. McKay's message that is, his call for help that John would have answered regardless of whether he had received Janssen's go-ahead. In the wake of this latest destruction, it seemed that the President himself was firmly on board with what Janssen had done. The heat, it seemed, would not be so focussed upon him in the aftermath of this disaster.

"He's holding onto the information," John added. "Aithris expressed an interest in following up on it himself. I told him to hold off on doing anything crazy." The Nomad had sworn to fight evil, specifically the evil of the 'Void Demons' in whatever form it took. That included human associates, so his eagerness to get to hunting them down had rendered even John a little taken aback. Then again, Aithris took his job very seriously. Not to mention, he was very good at what he did. If any one individual was capable of finding these people and delivering the justice they deserved, it would be him.

"Well, whatever we do, it can't be on record," Janssen stated. He shook his head slowly, his face grim. "These people, they're above the law. They could have both of his killed, 'suicided'. Right now, though, they're probably going to ground. They'd know their time is limited."

"Which might make them desperate," John said. "If we've cut them off from their alien friends, then they might do something dangerous. We should find them and deal with them, soon." John saw the frown that Janssen had fixed upon him and gave a shrug. "It's just a suggestion, sir."

"I know." Janssen scratched at his chin, mulling it over. There followed a pause, as both men considered the complexities of the situation and the uncertainties that went with them all. Nothing was clear-cut anymore, black-and-white or just plain straightforward; John much preferred it when it was clear what had to be done, like it often had been during his time fighting the Wraith in the Pegasus galaxy. There, they had known who the enemy was up-front. Now, they were not even sure just what kind of opponents they were up against, and McKay's talk about the 'Devil' seemed a little extreme, even for someone who had experienced all manner of alien-related craziness over the past fifteen to twenty years.

"This is a war, Colonel," Janssen said suddenly. "And it's not just the Calsharans we have to worry about."

"We don't have the intel on the Void Demons to put up an effective resistance."

"But we will eventually," Janssen countered. He motioned for John to follow, and he started for the door. "Come on, Colonel. There's something I want to show you. I had it put together while you were off saving Atlantis."

"Trying to save it, at least." John rose from his chair and followed the General out into the corridor. His tone, as he spoke this latest sentence, became appropriately sour. Atlantis could have been their best defence against this new enemy, and with it gone they were left with only a few cruisers. Even the outpost in Antarctica could not be relied upon, not with its drone complement dwindling. There would have been hardly enough to fight off another ship like the one that had laid waste to so much of Earth's space-fleet. Of course, the lack of a control chair put a serious damper on that potential plan of action anyway.

"Don't blame yourself for its loss, John. Its sacrifice saved countless lives." Janssen lead the way down the corridor, taking them to a door near the far end that would have normally opened onto a storage space. However, this had changed, and as they approached it slid open and an airman walked out, moving off to attend to his own duties. Inside, the storage space had been cleared, with shelving units pushed against the walls or otherwise removed altogether. The clutter which would have otherwise been prevalent in this space was also gone, replaced with computer workstations and monitors. One large screen was at the wall, and in the centre was a rectangular table fitted with holographic projection technology. The star-map that had been in the conference room now took up the large LCD display on the wall, denoting the locations of known worlds of importance, as well as the frontlines of the war against the Calsharans that both the makalvari and Jaffa were engaged in.

"A proper war-room," Janssen said, stepping inside and gesturing to the setup as a whole. There was a hint of pride in his voice. "In here, we can corroborate all intel received from our off-world teams and allies in order to keep track of the conflict with the Calsharans, as well as any sightings of similar ships to the ones that attacked us. So far, we've received word from the Tok'ra that a ship not dissimilar to the one you destroyed has been sighted in what used to be a territory belonging to the System Lord Chronus." Janssen stopped before the star-map, pointing a finger to a sector indicated by a green marker. "There are several human-inhabited planets there. Primitive cultures, so we can't say what this enemy intends for those people."

"Nothing good, probably." John stopped by the central table. A female staff officer there had been tapping away at a computer connected to it. She seemed to be inputting the latest batch of intelligence, judging from the way a few small points on the galaxy map shifted.

"Something Doctor Jackson mentioned in his report does suggest something as to their intentions," Janssen said, and John turned to him again. The General's face was a grim mask, his eyes narrowed as he regarded the many markers and lines on the elaborate galaxy map. "It's something the Herald said, when they encountered him at the hotel in Pittsburgh. Something about 'subverting and corrupting' God's creation."

"That's vague," John remarked.

"Is it really, though?" The General asked, and he turned to John again. "They attacked us because we're a threat to them. They had their claws in us long before then, seeing as how these conspirators are in league with them. Maybe they don't necessarily want to destroy us, not unless we prove to be too much trouble. We've seen multiple species under their command, the Herald and even that imp-like creature you met on Sanctuary. And now this other form, the one that Aithris and Natalia met, the praying mantis from Hell. It's not just one race we're fighting, it's several. And they all answer to the same masters."

"They're a conglomeration, so what? We'll fight them all the same."

"How did they become a conglomeration? Did they subjugate these species, change them, alter them?" Janssen scratched at his chin. "It's a theory Jonas Quinn mentioned earlier, when I debriefed him. And I think Daniel had something similar in mind. If they are here to corrupt and subvert, then turning an entire species to their needs would certainly qualify."

He had a point, one John had not really thought about. If they had so far met only subjects of whoever was in charge, then just what did the ones in charge look like? What were they really fighting? The Herald and the imps and the mantis, they could very well have all been minions to something else. Something even more dangerous, no less, which in itself was a sobering thought.

Before he could voice his thoughts on the matter, a familiar alert sounded throughout the facility. A man's voice cut through the PA system, making the expected announcement: "Unscheduled off-world activation. All personnel to their assigned stations."

"Looks like we have unexpected guests, Colonel," Janssen said, and he moved briskly for the corridor.

"Mind if I tag along, sir?" John asked him, falling into step after the General.

"Whatever you want, Colonel. I might need the help."


After the battle in orbit, the alert status within Stargate Command was heightened. That meant a much more prepared response to an unscheduled set of visitors, complete with armed Marines positioned within the embarkation room with their weapons trained upon the stargate itself. The iris remained closed, the wormhole's wavering light casting wobbling, shifting shapes against the wall behind it. None attempted to venture through, and so nothing struck the iris from the other side. Rather, a video signal was received, and on it a familiar figure appeared, asking to meet and promising to come unarmed. After some consideration, Janssen relented, although he ensured the guard presence about the facility was greatly increased.

John had last seen Toron Kavellan, the older brother of former SG-1 team member Valkas, several months before on the Calsharan home-world. Toron had been a dutiful, law-abiding and loyal soldier to the Calsharans, an officer within their space fleet and the favourite son of the pair's father. He came now in a blue and grey uniform that John had never seen before, one that was significantly different to the usual all-black getups Calsharan officers often wore. Toron was joined by a pair of soldiers outfitted similarly, although as promised none stepped through the now opened stargate armed. They were run through the usual checks, ensuring that none carried biological weapons or implanted explosives or anything of the sort. As such, it was about three hours before they were finally allowed to sit down in the conference room for the intended meeting.

Daniel joined John in the conference room, as did Richard Woolsey. Janssen took his seat at the head of the table, with John, Daniel and Woolsey sitting along one side with the Calsharans opposite them. Toron carried a distinct resemblance to his younger brother, although John detected a hardness in his gaze that Valkas had lacked. This was the look of someone who had seen their fair share of fighting, and the visible limp he carried suggested that it had been very recent.

"You must find this unusual," Toron said, after an awkward silence. He, and his two associates, were both typically bulky for males of their species. As such, the chairs they sat within audibly squeaked with each movement they made, for they had not been designed with Calsharan frames in mind. "This meeting, I mean. But the situation back home necessitates that I seek assistance outside of the usual channels."

"Assistance?" Daniel scratched at his chin, curious. "You want our help?"

"Whatever you can give." Toron noticed the bemused and disbelieving looks from the humans seated across from him. As expected, they did not buy it. "The Calsharan Systems Union has fallen under the grip of a tyrant. A rebellion has arisen on a few of the major colony worlds. I have come from Vargania, one of those colonies. We were forced to fight off a sizeable attack force sent by the High Protector and commanded by none other than Supreme Commander Rila Cassalis."

"Cassalis?" John perked up when he heard this name. "She's still around?"

"She was," Toron answered. "But it looks like the High Protector has denounced her as a traitor, framed her as such after her failure to stop the rebellion on Vargania. She has disappeared, having fled. And she is not the reason I'm here. The High Protector and his followers, they are why I'm here. I have, in a way, become the de facto head of this rebellion. It's not a position I asked for, but it is the role I have taken."

"A rebellion?" Daniel nodded his head, fascinated. "I thought the Calsharans were a unified people?"

"The major colonies always sustained a degree of autonomy, as outlined in the Articles of Foundation that were drafted by Visala and other leaders more than one-thousand years ago. The new High Protector, Tarva Garall, rose to his position through an assassination plot that we have evidence of. He was not chosen for the role; he did not gain it legitimately. That is why we rebel, because he would have every Calsharan world carry out his will. He would strip the likes of Vargania of whatever independence they have. Not to mention, the war he started, a war of expansion driven by his own ambitions to dominate as much of the galaxy as possible, has cost nearly a million Calsharan lives so far. This is a war with no end in sight."

John heard the conviction in Toron's voice. He believed in what he said, and strangely enough John found himself believing it as well. Sure, this whole thing could still be some kind of elaborate setup, but it seemed less likely now. It was strange, to be speaking to Calsharans after having killed so many of them on Dalabrai. Then again, from the sound of things it appeared that Toron had needed to kill a fair few of his own kind recently.

"You want our help in this rebellion?" Woolsey asked.

"It's a civil war now," Toron said. "I know that we have a powerful enemy out there, and I know that they are likely to make themselves known soon. The earlier this civil war can end, the better a state we will be in to fight them, as we did one-thousand years ago. I believe that we can become allies, but not until the High Protector is removed." He spoke earnestly, his eyes flitting between the humans before him. He must have noticed something was a little off, for he paused and an uncertain frown crossed his rough-hewn, scaly features. "Is there something wrong?"

"Helping you for the guarantee of an alliance is a great offer, really," Janssen said, and Toron turned to him. "But you've come at one hell of a time. We were attacked by the very enemy you're probably referring to. They destroyed a large portion of our fleet. We're down to maybe three ships at most and we're reeling from damage done to several of our major cities. We can still offer our help, but it won't be much. Probably not enough to turn this civil war into your favour."

There followed an awkward pause as Toron thought this over. He spoke in hushed tones to his two compatriots for a moment, doing so in their native tongue. As such, what words John did catch he did not understand. Daniel, however, understood things a little better. He leaned his head closer to John's, speaking to him in a whisper:

"They weren't expecting this," he translated. As the trio continued speaking quietly amongst themselves, Daniel listened further, trying to pick up on what he could: "Toron still wants our help. The other two, not so much."

"So, you faced this enemy?" Toron directed the question to Janssen, but it was John who answered.
"That's right, we faced them and we beat them." Toron fixed his reptilian eyes upon John, firmly. "We destroyed one of their capital ships. Parts of the wreck are still floating in orbit, if you need any proof."

"I don't doubt you, Colonel Sheppard," Toron said. "I suspect that even with your fleet in such a state, you could still assist us. The humans of Earth have a reputation for getting things done and for meddling with foes far more powerful than they are. You brought down the Goa'uld and the Replicators, you even defeated the Ori."

"All three of which your people were conveniently spared from," John remarked.

"The galaxy is a vast place, Colonel. What may be your problem is not necessarily going to be any close to being ours as well." He paused briefly, considering what else to add. "Your people have been divided for as long as you have existed. We Calsharans have lived under a unified government for centuries. A civil war was unheard of, and yet here we are."

"You really want our help?" John had his doubts as to just how much help they might be. Toron nodded his head in the affirmative.

"I was told by an old friend of mine that the humans of Earth would make a formidable ally in the war to come," Toron explained. "Perhaps because our two peoples are much closer than most realise. It may come as a surprise to you, but I am one of the few who know of the part Joanne Bowers' played in our history." This was indeed a surprise to hear from him. From what John understood, the knowledge that Joanne had in fact been Visala was something the Calsharans had actively buried, a protected secret kept as such by their Vigilants of Varondaar.

"I think our two peoples are meant to work together," Toron added. He sounded sincere enough, although the looks his two companions wore suggested that they were not as keen on the idea as he was. "So, again, any help you can offer would be appreciated. And, in turn, it would better guarantee an alliance against the real enemy, these 'Demons' that Visala fought one-thousand years ago."

"And I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement," Woolsey said, ever the diplomat. "What kind of strength does your rebellion have?"

"We have three major colonies on board," Toron said. "Vargania and Tornya, both of which are two of the oldest and most populous colonies. Arkava is the third, but they are smaller and do not have the same kind of military strength as the other two. There are three other major colony worlds, but they remain aligned with the home-world and the High Protector's government. That might change, given time, but for now the Union is split almost evenly."

"Do you think your chances are good?" Daniel asked him.

"Good, yes. Guaranteed of success?" Toron shook his head. "No, not at all. Not in any prolonged conflict. That's part of why I'm here. We need the outside help, if not now then soon." He leaned forwards where he sat, eyeing Janssen and then John and the others in turn. "Our two peoples are meant to work together; I believe this to be the case. The sooner you help us put an end to this civil war, the better off we will all be when the real fight, the fight against the ancient enemy, begins. And it will begin, soon. I'm convinced of this. If they attacked you, then they'll strike elsewhere, that much is a given." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. There was no denying that he made a valid point. John glanced over at Janssen, trying to get a read on what the General was thinking. As was often the case with Janssen, he wore a firm yet near-unreadable expression. He was thinking carefully and betraying little about those thoughts to others around him.

"We can make this official, once we've reached an agreement," Woolsey said, eager to get things on paper as if to satisfy his bureaucratic tendencies. "Of course, the President will need to be advised of the situation, as will our allies across the world." He looked to Toron, his features wearing a pleasant expression. "Tell me, if the Union is split, does your side have an official name as yet?"

Toron took a moment to reply, as it was clear that this was something he himself had not really thought about.

"There are talks about an official alliance, but it is still some time away from any proper ratification," he finally said. "I did hear talk that it may be a 'Federation' of independent worlds, but that is likely to change."

"And you come here with the authority to make any arrangement made between our two peoples official?"

"Of course I do, Mister Woolsey. I would not be here otherwise." He reached out one hand, offering it for a handshake. A human gesture, although it seemed that some 'human' things had also been adopted by the Calsharans. Further evidence of their intertwined history, no less. "For now, do I have your word that you will, at the very least, consider the offer I have made?"

"You have our word." It was Janssen who said this, and he rose from his chair and took the Calsharan Captain's hand in his own. He shook it firmly, or as firmly as he could when compared to the powerful grip of a Calsharan. John, for the first time in days, felt some semblance that maybe something would finally go their way. It was a fleeting sensation, made so by the uncertainties surrounding this latest discussion. There were no guarantees, just a handshake deal that neither side had any need to adhere to. Even if things were printed on paper with signatures, there was still no telling how trustworthy the Calsharans could be as a whole. Even so, a civil war provided opportunities, and John knew that Janssen saw those opportunities as much as he did. Daniel and Woolsey no doubt saw them as well. When a rival state was being torn apart by internal conflict, it provided fertile ground for actions that would have previously been unfeasible. Things could be done to steer the Calsharans in such a way that it would benefit the people of Earth.

To assume Toron was not wary of such agendas would be naïve. For now, both sides would simply wait and see how things went. Earth's interstellar military capabilities had been greatly reduced and the Calsharan Union had been torn in half; the timing on both seemed too good to be true. Had the 'Void Demons' done something with the Calsharans to spur this conflict into action?

"I hope this is the start of a beneficial relationship between our two peoples," Woolsey said, and he rose from his chair and took Toron's hand for a shake of his own. He met the Calsharan's gaze with warmth and a friendly smile, both finely tuned through years of diplomatic work. "If only it could be under better, less serious circumstances."

"Trying times make unusual allies," Toron remarked.