Star Granger Season 5 - Chapter 10
Thoughts
"speech"
"Goa'uld speech"
SG SG SG SG SG SG SG
December 13th 2002 - New Scotland Yard
This is such a cock-up!
"On the 11th of December, at the same time the Senator was shot, I was nowhere even remotely close to that location," I state levelly again.
Fifty and something thousands lightyears away, as things stand.
"So you have said," DCI Escott replies calmly. "Yet you said nothing regarding your location at the time. Nor did you offer any proof to that claim."
"It is…"
"Classified," the inspector completes my sentence. "Yet we have these," he adds. Once again we watch together the video of me coming down the stairs, from the flat the Senator was shot from. The video ends with the clear image of me dropping the murder weapon to the bin, at the bottom of the stairs.
"Rather daft of me to leave evidence behind like this," I deadpan.
"No one ever said murderers are clever," the inspector replies and I can only shrug in agreement. "By the way, since you weren't there to shoot the Senator, can you perhaps explain those images?" DCI Escott asks.
"A few ideas, actually," I reply.
I can't believe Mages are involved, though. Especially not the Americans. Personal cloaking devices? Mobile holographic emitters? Shapeshifting aliens?
The Inspector is looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.
"Sorry inspector," I tell him. "But that would be…"
"Classified," the inspector completes my sentence once more.
Such a cock-up…
Honestly - Normally, R would have been our go to person for intervention, but she is away and Harry, as her substitute, is too close to me to intervene in my name.
Also, he can't expose himself as the acting director of a secret government project.
Stefan would have been the next 'right' person, but he has just been replaced. Dame Eliza Manningham-Buller, his replacement, is most certainly a formidable woman, and capable director manager for the illustrious MI5, but is yet to be signed to our activities. In any case, the fact that I'm now known to be well connected to various secret services is a real problem in itself. Obviously, the Prime Minister can't intervene directly and personally with police activities as well.
I can easily be out of this dreary interrogation room within two shakes, or Minister Scrimgeour can set me free. However, this place is too well surveilled and documented for it to be a clean act, so the BCE will suffer for it, and as a result - the security of Earth and the whole galaxy.
So I wait.
"Since we sit here, with nothing to do, would you like my formal statement about the bartender?" I ask.
DCI Escott is properly surprised by this offer. "What happened there?" he asks.
"The twit just looked on, while someone slipped rape drug into my drink," I shrug. "Do you guys have one of our holographic displays around here? I'll just show you," I offer.
Too curious to let this pass, the inspector walks out and is back, about half an hour later, with an emitter and a female colleague. She is introduced as the inspector in charge of 'The End's' case. I touch my ring to the interface,
Just for the show of it,
And the bar sequence is cast into the room. I then pause at the image of Mr barman looking down on Mr Whitehouse's hand, over my almost-a-pint.
"You carry a body camera, Miss?" inspector Escott asks in surprise, and earns a loud snort from me.
"Sir," I answer. "I own and head one of the world's leading tech companies. Certainly one of the few most innovative ones. The amount of tech I carry on my person will surprise even Q, was he a real person. Naturally, most of it is,"
"Classified," The inspector deadpans.
"We will need your ring, ma'am." He tells me.
I look down at my hand in surprise. "There is nothing on it for you to find," I answer softly.
"You would be surprised…" he starts saying, but there's a knock at the door, and a man walks in. He introduces himself as Assistant Commissioner David Veness. Clearly an important person.
"I have just got off the phone with the Director Manager of the MI5. She assured me of the fact that Miss Granger here indeed has a solid alibi, and that said facts are indeed highly classified," he updates his officers. "You are free to go, miss. We are sorry for your inconvenience."
I wave his apology with a gracious smile.
They were just doing their work and were quite professional at doing it.
"What can be done about this chap," I ask, pointing at the barman's holograph, still being cast into the room.
Nothing much apparently. He didn't actually do anything at all.
Literally!
He was already detained and interrogated twice and had to be released. The MET held a drug heist on the club, a fortnight after the events, It is closed now, by an administrative order, for all that was found. Will only open back in a couple of weeks' time. Still, I take the time to properly file my statement.
On paper!
It'll establish the facts and will give a formal excuse for me being here in the first place.
I need to go and meet the new Director Manager of the MI5 to thank her.
Then, cut the barman's bollocks off...
December 16rd 2002 - Diagon Alley
Once more I'm sitting alone at Florean's having a warm butterbeer. On the cover of The Times newspaper I'm reading is the image of the dear, dear Senator, who apparently was only wounded, in coma, and hidden away 'for his own safety'. In an envelope underneath it are our initial end-of-the-year reports. Once more we did well, and the exchequer is quite delighted regarding.
Christmas cheer is at its highest, and the alley is sparking with decorations and lights. Just in front of the ice-cream place is a new shop selling flying suits and as far as the queue in front of it indicates - it's one of this Christmas' most sought after presents.
The Superman/Supergirl suits displayed in the shop's front certainly amuses me.
"Miss Granger," a dry and rather unliked voice pulls my attention away from my tablet.
"Please have a seat, Mr Snape," I invite him, just as coldly and unkindly. "Can I get you some tea? A butterbeer?" I don't forget my manners.
I can see his face twitch for the slight, yet he sits and declines my offer.
What? His Professorship hasn't survived the old man's death for long!
Since I derive no pleasure from being in his company,
Just why am I doing this again?
I get right to the point of this meeting. "Do you ever dream, Mr Snape?" I ask, and enjoy his sneer at my rather personal question.
"I reckoned so far," I remark and tap my finger on the cover of the book laid on the table, then move it in front of him. He sneers again, and though he's certainly a capable person, he has nothing on the late lord Zipachna. Nevermind a Malfoy.
Ophiuchus? Can't really get over this…
The book is clearly a normal one. Paperback and light blue. Quite a thick one as well. 'Sleep and Dreams - A Sourcebook' says the title.
"We have made a thorough research into Occlumency, this last year, Mr Snape. I highly recommend that you read this book and consider the implications."
With that, I rise from my seat. "Have a merry Christmas," I tell him, turn, and walk towards Gringotts.
The manager invited me to visit and see their re-education efforts. Also have a few requests regarding their new ships.
January 6th 2003 - Moon compex
It's the first workday of the new year. The first day since coming back that I'm allowed back to work.
I'm already tired.
It's just another manic Monday
I wish it was Sunday
'Cause that's my fun day
My I don't have to run day
It's all so tedious. New tech is being developed all around, and I just can't find any of this exciting.
Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.
Ted was ready to pack in for the Navy's insistence on even larger ships than the new Destroyers. There's just no bloody need or reason!
Our next-gen ships, still on the drawing boards, go the smaller and better armed way, just like the Asgard did. Even now, the most powerful ship in our little fleet is the old-yet-upgraded HMS Mermaid, with its experimental crystal based power system. Using this, our next generation of ships will be able to do without the three reactors, and two generators, enabling a substantial downsizing of the design while still maintaining an important hike in armament and protection.
Our latest destroyers show no actual advantage over our regular Frigates, if not for those slightly better accommodations, that command conference room, and the golden plated heads. Well, Those Frigates which have gone through their refit, at the least.
Meanwhile the newly minted Marines Commandos brigade is holding ground warfare exercises, and Harry is busy holding off military demands for a second brigade, armoured vehicles, troop carriers, and the likes.
What's the use? We're not about to conquer and hold any planets, and space superiority is done in space, by battleships?!
There are also the constant calls for the use of various technologies in Afghanistan. It's only 'small' things - Lifesigns detectors, to locate Taliban hideouts; transporters to get our troops in there. Like the Russians and the Chinese are not closely following our efforts and will immediately recognise the upscale of our military capabilities.
Like we aren't magically bound from doing this, for as long as the Magical world is still hidden…
Fortuitously, Harry has the full support of the Prime Minister's office - for now. There are talks about converting the WIB into a formal strategic space agency, giving us legitimacy, authority, and clear lines of command. All this will have to wait till R's back at her desk, since Harry, sadly, doesn't carry either the authority, or the respect she does.
Luckily for me, there is always an emergency to pull me out of my office and wondering thoughts.
"I wouldn't recommend it," I hear Harry telling General Hammond. He certainly doesn't like this reply. By the look on his face, he doesn't like making the action Harry is warning him against as well.
"They are allies," he answers. "Jonas' people and homeworld. We need to do something."
"Prometheus has neither the shields nor the weapons to stand against more than one of Anubis' ships. Nevermind his command ship," Peers answers matter-of-factly.
And we still have no bloody idea just what happened to the Seahorse.
"We won't dare unless pressed with our back to the wall," Victoria adds softly.
"Prometheus is in hyperspace already," the General shrugs. "SG1 and a couple of other teams are on the planet to help. We're committed," he updates us.
"You should better come over here," Harry invites him, and disconnects.
"Can you please hail Atlantis?" He then asks communications.
Takes some fifteen long minutes before Captain Helia is online. The Lantean were kind enough and went on running Atlantis on Greenwich time, so they are awake about when we are.
"Alright?" Harry asks, and she smiles thinly.
"To what do I have the pleasure?" She asks.
"Might have an issue, is the Tria ready?"
Helia is all business now. The Tria's repairs and upgrades were completed and tested, as were the new weapons installed. She was also loaded with enough drones for an extended battle day. Those were taken from Earth, Vis-Uban and Atlantis' very limited reserves. It only has a skeleton crew though, and will take a couple of hours to be readied for launch.
"You should better come over," Harry offers.
"Asgard can't help," I update the gathered people, after a short call with Thor. "Replicators," I add needlessly. "They are also not willing to break the treaty, for now."
Command group is short and to the point. We get the five-minute update from General Hammond about the situation:
The Langara planet is divided into three nations, long at war with each other. They have suffered horrendous losses as of late by one of the warring nations testing their new and shiny Naquadria bomb on enemy population.
Honestly, they might be better off having Anubis enslave them all.
Anubis is there for the said Naquadria, probably to augment his ship's power generation to the level needed by his new mysterious weapon. Judging by the sad state of HMS Seahorse - we wouldn't like this to happen. SGC tried to use this emergency to force the warring nations to cooperate. A tad hypocritical of them, what with both Russia and China still having no clue regarding our off world adventures. Nevermind the Arab countries, Africas, and South-Americas.
Jonas and Teal'c are on Anubis ship, hopefully hiding in some out-of-the-way corner and looking for a way off ship.
On the planet, status turns desperate.
"How much of an ally are the Langarians for you?" Peers asks General Hammond bluntly.
"They are a free, relatively advanced human society?" he answers, as if it's helpful in any way. Clearly, he doesn't fully understand the question.
"Do we risk our crews and ships, risk disclosing our existence to Earth's general population, disclose Earth as a power to the galaxy, reveal strategic assets to the enemy, and deplete very limited, irreplaceable strategic armaments, to try and help them?" Harry elaborates. "We don't have the time for discussions and approvals, so I'll take your lead on this."
He actually does this command thing very well!
I can also see the weight of all these souls - those we might save, those we won't and especially - those we'll put at higher risk, weighing on his.
The General understands now, and nods after a short deliberation.
"Go" Harry tells Captain Helia softly. "Please tell your commander to not risk the ship, and conserve drone use," he suggests, and practically orders her to stay behind. She nods slightly, and heads to the comm.
"Two divisions?" Peers consults Victoria. She nods and heads towards the rings. She won't be staying this one out.
"Alert Commander Caniff," she orders control on her way.
We are sending our best there.
"Aren't you going to face him?" I ask Harry softly, for only him to hear. I receive a pointed stare in response.
"Only when we have a good plan in hand, and after R is back in command," he answers just as softly.
Near us and over Shipyard, two of our divisions open their hyperspace windows and wink out.
"If you have communications, tell them five hours and to keep safe," Harry instructs the General. "Also, tell Teal'c and Jonas to get off Anubis' ship. We won't have the time nor the ability to wait, or hold fancy rescue missions."
General Hammond nods grimly and goes to call SGC.
It's almost three hours later that we are notified that the Tria is on her way to Langara as well.
Now we wait…
"There's something you all need to see," Harry invites the gathered people to the conference room, while we wait.
In there we all watch my memory of our little knee up with Anubis over Praclarush. Him sustaining our attacks. This stream of yellow lights coming out of his hands to attack us. Anubis's personal shield breaks under the Sergeant's handgun's bullet. Then, finally Anubis' body evaporating into a cloud of black smoke.
General Hammond raises an eyebrow at my Patronus, though he has already seen one before.
"Botched ascension?" Captain Helia asks, quite alarmed.
"Probably," I answer.
"Won't be certain till I see him with my own eyes," Harry replies.
"So, Anubis is dead?" Hammond jumps to the wrong conclusion.
"It means that Anubis can't be killed for the time being," Harry explains patiently.
"Please instruct your men not to engage Anubis directly, under any circumstances," I add softly.
"For the time being?" The General asks us to clarify, rightly disturbed.
"For as long as I am yet to see him with my own eyes," Harry concludes.
All this time, Captain Helia looks at Anubis' image frozen on the display, thinking. "You are…" she suddenly exclaims towards Harry, but luckily, I manage to stop her with a raised finger.
First to Langara is HMS Mermaid. Normally, we travel in grouped divisions, yet time here is of quite a critical essence. Next to arrive will be both Destroyers - the Fluffy and Cockatrice, about 15 minutes later. We have no idea when exactly to expect the Tria there. Her new hyperspace engines are faster than ours, by a scale, but are yet to be tested under full load. Also, Merlin only knows just when and where USS Prometheus will appear. Its Hyperspace engines are still Goa'uld based and we have no contact with it while hyperspace travelling.
I use the word "arrive" carefully - our tactics these days are leading us to refrain from close encounters of the military kind - as much as we can.
HMS Mermaid drops out of hyperspace about a light-day away from the Langara planet and immediately releases three torpedoes. On display, tactical improves immediately, then improves again as those torpedoes release clocked sensor satellites over the planet. Anubis isn't there with his whole fleet. Just a dozen of improved Ha'tak ships, as opposed to the thirty something we encountered over Praclarush.
Theoretically, this is a fleet we can handle. Especially when backed up by the Tria. On the other hand, we still have no idea what Anubis battleship is capable of. We're also not sure what the repercussions of us standing up to him here will be, and whether we, nevermind the Langarians, are ready for said repercussions.
What we want is for this fleet to go elsewhere.
On the Mermaid, Charles asks to hail Anubis fleet. We, at the moon command centre, can only watch the info which is relayed to us.
=Anubis fleet!= He calls. =I am Commander Charles Caniff onboard WIB ship Mermaid. Langara is an allied planet under our protection. You are required to leave this sector of space, or you will be fired upon,= he announces levelly.
It takes some time for a response to come. General Hammond uses the time for an update with his teams on the ground, finally having robust communication with them.
"Thank god you're here," Jack tells him.
We can probably guess which one he means this time.
"Things are getting desperate here. We have Jaffa ground forces on the planet."
"When are you sending more troops to help us?" Insists a military looking bloke, who butts into O'Neill's conversation. "They brought only eight men," he adds derisively.
Honestly?
"There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves," I remark, not too quietly. By the look on the man's face, I have succeeded in being overheard.
On another part of the screen some unknown Goa'uld shows himself and declares that the mighty god Anubis does not respond to threats from unknown commanders. Certainly not those who don't even brave showing their ships.
=Very well,= Charles replies and disconnects. He makes a hand motion to his weapons officer, who, in turn, presses a button on his post.
On tactical, the yellow blinking lights on three of Anubis' ships turns red. Visual shows explosions appear on three of the ships, though all seem to hold despite the damage delivered. These are the mines previously distributed by HMS Sphinx over Praclarush. Seconds later, both HMS Cerberus and French destroyer Cockatrice fall out of their hyperspace windows.
On the other side of the control room, Harry just joined the conversation with the Langarian military twit, telling him, after politely introducing himself, that rumours regarding the Langarians ability to do war precede them, therefore we are confident in their ability to handle a few Jaffa by themselves. The man bristles, but Harry cuts him short.
"Shoot enough armour-piercing ammo at them, and they're dead," Harry tells him, quite dismissively. The grimace on that man's face shows that even though Harry had been named the acting director - our boy hasn't lost his touch.
We can hear Jack twisting the knife saying - "A common enemy might do you, Langarians, some good."
Wee hypocritical of him, given the fact that neither the US, nor us are anxious to reveal our extraterrestrial adventures to other countries, nevermind our enemies.
It's a tad strange for me to follow all this from afar and not be involved in any way. Usually, on a ship, even the time spent waiting is tense and filled with preparations. Here, in command, we have clear tactical, ongoing communication with our ships, visual of both bridges and battle showing, but it's mostly sitting on one's arse and waiting.
Meanwhile, over Langara, Charles opens communications once more and calls again for Anubis' fleet to withdraw. Obviously, Victoria is in command, but he was the first there to present himself to the enemy. They then launch three torpedoes at the fleet. Thing is - those represent almost half of the cluster-torpedoes available to them. These are lethal and useful, but the manufacturing process of them is ghastly.
Results are a mixed affair. One torpedo reached its target and hit it. That ship doesn't explode, yet is clearly disabled. Second torpedo is a complete miss. I mean it reaches the intended ship, which is Anubis command one, but explodes outside its shields.
"Timing needs some work," Albert sighs, before anyone manages to remark regarding. It does some damage to the shields, but no more than your regular torpedo does. The third torpedo is frustrating. Timing works right and a small cloud of warheads are released inside that same flagship's shields, yet miss the ship itself completely - again, only doing some superficial damage.
"Warheads need some," Peers starts.
"Faster propulsion," Jeremy agrees.
Langara surface battle turns into a bloody thing. The Langara nations are currently at the technological level at which Earth used to be at about the end of the second world war. It means that they certainly have the weapons to fight the Goa'uld ground troops, but their communications and control systems are, well - rather primitive. Their armies are naturally set to fight each other more than cooperate with each other too. The locals are pouring units into the battleground, which is a small town, not far from one of their capital cities. They have little in the way of actual information from the battlefield, other than the fact that 'casualties are horrendous'.
At the same time coastal air defences opened fire on the neighbouring country's aeroplanes carrying an airborne brigade for reinforcements, since no one updated the local commander about this new common enemy at the gates. Local armoured forces also engaged a convoy from the other country. That General was updated, and disregarded his orders, believing that all this 'space invaders nonsense' is a ruse by the enemy to invade his homeland.
In space, our three ships have no choice but to close range, so as not to deplete their torpedoes. Now, our prototype new cannon has managed to shoot an Al'kesh from three quarters of a light second, but that ship was stationary. It was also old and had Apophis-grade shields only. For this, they will have to be closer. Much closer.
"Let's probe this ship's capabilities," Victoria offers, and three points show on the battle control display, some 175 thousands klicks from the fleet in orbit. A second later our three ships wink out, then drop out of hyperspace at those locations. At this range they can certainly hit a target, but penetrating Anubis-grade shields will take ages. Still, Anubis' fleet can't disregard them any more, and three of his ships move out to engage.
Sod's law makes it that USS Prometheus chooses this exact moment to appear. In the corner of my eye, I see Harry face palms at this.
Just what was needed right now.
Now, the Americans might be new to space warfare, but stupid they are not, and they have watched the same films and shows we did. They have also watched us battling Goa'uld on several occasions. Point is that they know well not to drop out of hyper in an enemy occupied orbit. USS Prometheus actually dropped in at a respectable range of about a hundred thousand kilometres above it. Thing is our ships have just persuaded those three lovely and much upgraded Ha'tak ships to follow, and USS Prometheus appeared right between them.
The Prometheus is armed with an array of rail-guns and missiles which will do her no good against Anubis-grade shields. Those will be rather useless against any Ha'tak shields, actually. She is also equipped with our former generation cannons - those same that we used to battle Anubis ships over Tollana,
Is it really almost a year and a half ago?
Those are definitely effective against Anubis ships. Especially when used in grouped targeting against the right soft spots. Point is, Prometheus is also equipped with your bog-standard Ha'tak shields, the design of which is mostly taken from Improved. Those will do bugger all against Anubis upgraded weapons. Certainly not at that ridiculous range.
To add fuel to the fire, USS Prometheus also releases its contingent of fighters as soon as it drops out of hyperspace. It was probably pre-ordered as a force multiplier before her arrival. Might have even been a decent idea in most situations - certainly if the ship was the sole friendly above an occupied orbit, as it was expected to be when sent into battle. Still, the fighter's survivability, so close to Anubis' ships, is uninspiring.
"Shit!" I hear General Hammond summarises the situation rather eloquently.
"Take us in!" Victoria's clear order sounds over the comm.
"Ma'am?" one of the new control officers chooses this exact moment to pull my attention and earns a frown. "It's the Director," he tells me quietly, so as not to disturb the gathered crowd. "She asks you to come to Jane's place?" he tells me with some uncertainty.
Right now?!
"Says it's rather urgent," he adds.
Huge shout, once more, to flyboy38, my beta, who takes the time to make sure the story is a much better read.
Also to Dalwolf For doing Brit-Picking for, well - you all, and help my British characters stay British.
I am eternally grateful!
