Star Granger Season 5 - Chapter 19
Thoughts
"speech"
"Goa'uld speech"
SG SG SG SG SG SG SG
July 9th 2004 - Moon base
I look at the image on my screen and chortle. Can't stop actually.
Stars, I miss Daniel on some days.
A knock on the door brings in R, then Harry, then Peers, all shaking with mirth. It's a lovely image, actually. Keira's crater, with all the allied flags proudly fluttering about in the Martian wind.
Next image shows the same place with a person standing in front of the camera. She's a lovely young blonde woman, dressed in one of our EVA suits, but foregone the headgear for a bubble of almost nothing covering her head in its place. She also gives out an aura of distinct dottiness, what with that stick stuck behind her ear, her radish earrings, and this permanently inquisitive look on her face.
It's the third image though, which has us pissing our pants. In it, a paper picture of the same place without the proud flags is held in front of the camera. Footage also includes the woman's voice, clearly distorted by thin air and the strong winds.
"Carry on dear," she says. "No frogs here to film."
"What was she doing on Mars?" Peers asks us.
"Chasing rainbows most likely," Harry laughs as he answers.
An officer I have never even seen before appears at my door at that moment. "SGC is asking for you to visit, ma'am," he tells me "Said it's quite urgent."
For once, I have lots of volunteers for the visit. In the end, R beets Peers and Harry by seniority.
Good! I won't have to do this 'urgent' incredulity all by my lonesome.
We are led to the conference room and are met by a full cadre of Generals, plus nice Mr Davis. He's a Lieutenant Colonel now, so he might not be able to do all the actual work for all these Generals for much longer. They all wear their most severe faces, except for Davis, who smiles at us in a welcoming way, and the young Elisabeth, who is sitting at the head of the table, smirking slightly.
On the screen, in front of us, are the expected images.
"NASA's MER-B 'Oppy'," Elisabeth deadpans. "What did that woman do there?" she then asks, clearly curious.
"Was looking for moon frogs," I answer.
"Couldn't find any on Earth's moon. She reckons they were probably extinct on our moon, but might have migrated to other parts," R elaborates with a fond smile.
Jack rolls his eyes at this. "Do you even understand the damage that Loony girl did to NASA credibility?" He lectures.
Like I give a pin…
"Buddy," I answer curtly. "Luna can walk on Mars till the cows come home. It's the land of the free, and all."
"Coffee?" Davis offers, and R smiles thankfully.
"It leaked," General Hammond explains the obvious, "and now the internet is full of conspiracy theories, going back to the sixties."
"Once more," Jack agrees.
"Didn't you warn NASA not to go that way?" R then asks Elisabeth.
"We don't have the capacity to look into their missions," she answers ruefully. "Also, very few people there actually know about us, so we don't really have a place to voice our opinions."
"Turns out they wanted to take rock samples from some meteorite, which has supposedly landed thereabouts, to solve some scientific conundrum," Jack adds derisively.
"Don't they know to ask, at the least?" R further inquires.
Not so simple as it turns out. NASA employs about twenty thousand. Almost fifty thousand including contractors. Almost none are aware of the real US space activities. Most wouldn't have passed the SGC's security clearance in any case.
Nevermind our own.
"If we tried and revealed our activities to NASA at large, the Russians would have probably known within the week," Lieutenant Colonel Davis tells us, to everyone's agreement.
"Isn't it a wee bit of a wasteful way, to keep a secret, though?" R asks.
Weir just shrugs.
"It's not like the President can call O'Keefe to his office, give him an engraved pen, and thank him for NASA's long and distinguished service for the American people?" General Hammond argues quite convincingly.
"The Chinese will know within the hour," Davis can only agree.
It's at this moment that an airman knocks at the door. "WIB for you, ma'am," he tells R.
With Elisabeth's permission, she picks up the phone. "The Tria located the replicators," she updates us, after listening for a long moment. She then points at the screen, looking at Elisabeth. A few clicks on Weir's keyboard display a rather familiar star-chart on screen.
"Such a shame," Jack deadpans.
Aschen?
Our whole company is on our way to the rings, when R and I notice a familiar face walking towards us in the corridor.
"Better be careful with this chap, mate," I tell Jack softly.
"Dr Rush?" he asks, surprised. "He's almost as annoying as McCay. Practically a Genius. He's even English!" he adds, like it explains everything, or should impress us at the very least.
"Scottish," I correct him.
"True," comes Elisabeth's voice from behind us. "We were very much surprised you didn't hire him yourselves."
"We did," R replies. "A few years back, for almost a couple of months."
"Does he remember?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
July 11th 2004 - Aschen city
Naturally, our first instinct was to rush. Two divisions, the Tria, a division of Nox ships, as well as a small fleet of Asgard ones, were already at the edge of the destabilised space. Thing is, destabilised space doesn't turn stable on command. It will take those ships more than a decade to reach Aschen orbit at sublight, or a few centuries of patience, waiting for space around these ends to stabilise enough for hyperspace travel.
"They found a way to slowly travel through, Miss Keira," Thor told us, as a response to our inquiry regarding the method the replicators have used to reach the same said planet.
"It is not fast enough to escape ambushes, or reach protected locations, but we were not here to stop them in time," an Asgard commander named Aegir elaborates.
"Probably noticed the destabilising field, and reckoned we are hiding Neutronium here," Jeremy remarks darkly.
Being destroyed by replicators is not what we planned for the Aschen people, limited sympathy aside.
Both our and the Asgard Alcubierre based torpedoes can still pass through. I can see Jeremy giving R a troubled look.
We should have built a few warp powered ships…
Yet, vaporising the whole system, local population including, is a last-ditch kind of solution. What we truly need to do is go in and get some intel. Now, waiting for space to stabilise back is a tad of a long-term solution, but reconnecting local Ports can be done with nothing but a thought. Except, fighting replicators through the Port is not something any of us have built our forces towards. It will require some careful planning and preparations.
The Atlantis chair attendant nods slightly and the Port connects smoothly. First images from the other side show the atrium to the local government building. The Aschen must have moved this Port there, in an effort to reconnect, since we destroyed the one which originally stood there during our last visit. The hall is empty. The few people visible rush around the surrounding corridors and away. Damage to the building is clearly visible as well.
We try to send the probe out of the building, but it's stopped by a forcefield at the atrium's edge.
No choice but to head there ourselves.
We're an eclectic group heading through. Harry and I are given. Captain Deignan and his marine sergeant, who were with me on Anubis' flagship, will join us. When we reach the Port, we find Fleur there, suited. Plumage is already growing along her arms.
Poor dear must be terrified.
"You might need me there," she says, and I hug her tightly.
SGC are sending Colonel Mitchel and Sam. We might need her scientific expertise. We have no one in the force with both her knowledge and brilliance, and her ability when plasma and bullets start flying. Teal'c will be joining us too. I can certainly see longing in Jack's eyes. Leading a field unit was much more up his alley than commanding a fleet from behind a desk.
Two Asgard will also join us. They are from the young adventurous generation. A Nox will join us as well. He's the closest thing they have to security personnel. He's also focused in a way that makes my skin crawl. Apparently, when it comes to mechanical bugs killing psychopathic human civilizations, Nox can get rather blood, well - electron-thirsty?
"Biohazard warning from the drone," a sensor officer tells us before heading through and we secure our helmets on. Except for Fleur who is using a Bubblehead Charm instead. She has become a tad claustrophobic ever since Praclarush. Didn't set foot inside the Seahorse too, ever since.
"We need a high lookout," Cameron remarks, as soon as the Port disconnects behind our backs.
Last time around, we had HMS Mermaid in orbit, and a couple of folded Bricks to carry us around. This time, there is only one place with a view we are familiar enough with to pop in uninvited.
Borren's flat is still well equipped and sophisticated. Still mid of the former century modern. Apparently, dear Borren was too engaged to redecorate. Still offers that marvellous view over the river and downtown below too. This is, for most, the reason we came visiting once more. The neighbourhood isn't as upscale and fashionable as it used to be, though. Electricity is off. Kitchen is clean, yet shows signs of conserved food use for most. Standing on the wide open balcony, we can't ignore the clear signs of fire and the smoke rising from parts of the city below. Strange mechanical devices are crawling over the land and floating in the skies.
"This isn't a war… It never was a war, any more than there's war between ants and men." I hear Harry mis-quotes.
And the battle's just begun
There's many lost, but tell me who has won?
The trenches dug within our hearts
And mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart
This place needs an infusion of blanks to buy us time," the captain says as a mechanical creature passes in front of the balcony, thankfully not scanning us. The Asgard beside him nods in agreement.
"Did you do this?" comes a cold, even voice from behind our backs. Borren is standing there. Impassive look on his face, clothes are dark, and not a hair out of place. His clothes are not ironed, though, and he blinks a tad too often.
"Is this your retribution?" he further asks, pointing his hand at the ruined city below.
I take a peek at his mind. Lines are blurry now. In some places lights leak around, disturbing the flow. There are a few clear feelings shining there.
"That's anger," I tell him with a sad smile.
"Partially," Harry agrees to his first question.
"Not our retribution," Sam answers the second one at the same time.
Borren blinks. He then blinks again, as he notices the Asgards in our group. He blinks once more, when he notices their state of attire, and where they hold their hands.
"Asgard," I tell him. "And he is a Nox," I explain. "Humans are far from being the only race in the galaxy."
"Who sent the machines?" He asks coldly.
"That feeling is hate," I explain softly.
"Beware of it," Harry adds.
"It's the path to the dark side, buddy." Cameron is channelling Jack here.
"Indeed!" Teal'c concludes.
I roll my eyes at all this rubbish, but it's the Nox representative who answers the actual question.
"Not all races in the universe are living ones," he says in his people's serene way. "For what you did, and planned to keep doing, we had no choice but to isolate you."
"The replicators recognised it and determined we are hiding something important here, Mr Borren," an Asgard explains.
"Would you like to come with us and see how we might help your people?" Harry asks, and Borren nods without a word.
"Then sign here," I tell him and hand him my tablet.
Back inside the flat, Borren's two children sit wordlessly at the dinner table. His son has a trace of a tear on his cheek. Borren's much better half is in an armchair, reading a book. She has an impressive library behind her. I step closer and take a look at her books.
"For my own part, if a book is well written, I always find it too short," I tell her kindly.
She looks up to me, with a face devoid of any expression, then surprises me by rising up and handing me a book from a shelf. It's written in English, though things like this have ceased to surprise me in the grand scheme of the galaxy. I nod thankfully towards her and return to my friends, to see Borren standing at the doors to the balcony, looking at his wife.
"And this is love," I tell him softly.
Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Back at the local government building more people are around, looking at us as our Nox friend has the Port connect smoothly with no visible effort. Borren looks up to them, with not a word and a face devoid of any expression.
"We are about to send back a swarm of black coloured replicators," Harry calls to our spectators. "You should let those spread. They will buy us time to help you."
The remains of the security system open fire on us, with no results. Cameron is sending a signal back using the SGC's identification device, signalling it is us wishing to come back home. He waits for a return signal to notify us that this connection is now directed to a viable Port and not the one opened to space, in front of several armed and ready Asgard ships.
Right as the clear signal finally arrives, the security system's fire is diverted towards something behind us. Soon enough, a few replicator-constructs land among us. We are protected, at least for a short while, by our personal shields. Still, our SG friends don't faff around and open fire on them using their shotguns. Fleur proves her usefulness, by melting two of the larger constructs with well placed balls of fire.
"Above," calls a voice from the surrounding balcony.
"Look up!" Teal'c alerts us, as he changes his aim.
Fleur screams in fright, as a construct lands right on top of her. She then lobs another, much larger fireball up with a furious shout. It melts most of the replicator-construct above us, but turns out to not be such a grand idea since their molten remains now rain down on us. Harry and I both vanish a couple of constructs too, but others are already crawling on the ceiling above us in an effort to reach our position.
"Go, go!" orders the captain.
Harry and I are the last to leave.
"We'll be back," I promise our spectators, and vanish another construct.
"This Port will stay connected to one of your agriculture planets, for you to evacuate." Harry calls to them, before we're both through.
Back from Aschen, our first stop are the bio-contamination scanners at the relay station.
"You are well" announces the Nox on duty. We then head onwards to the moon base.
"We need to send blanks through," calls captain Deignan. "They don't have long," he adds, and I notice Borren blink at his words. He's been following us, not saying a word, yet clearly noticing every detail.
I'll need to explain the contract to him. Nothing gained if he'll just forget everything when back.
"Tactical?" Peers offers, and leads us to the tactical review conference room. The Aschen star system is already displayed. Information is fresh, after a few cubesats were deployed to the vicinity by torpedoes while we were visiting. It isn't live, since subspace is distabled and the local port disconnected.
"I will call Asgard for blank supplies, captain Deignan," offers the Asgard woman,
Female?
"Please call Nolan and tell him I'll be late?" R asks Ethan, her assistant.
Another Sunday at the office.
"We need a Port there, in orbit, for communications and deliveries." Peers remarks. Timing is haphazardly perfect as the information presented in front of us suddenly updates.
"Aschen probably connected to evacuate," Harry says softly.
"What we need is people on location to guide our systems," Victoria snaps a little. "Can't do surgical attacks remotely, from lightyears away."
Not that we know how to actually handle this fight. The blanks we have available are only a delaying weapon.
"Must be so confusing for you," I hear Harry telling Borren beside him. Borren is still standing impassively, doing his best to follow everything which happens around him, yet clearly struggles to understand it all.
"This is the Aschen who tried to kill us all?" General Hammond's voice reaches us from behind. Probably just arrived back here from Earth. "Why did you do this, son?" he asks Borren in that patronising tone high ranking officers tend to use when trying to be nice to younger people and subordinates.
"They came to us," Borren answers, nodding at Jack. "It was convenient." he adds, clearly not understanding the issue.
"The convenient thing right now is to cascade-fail a power crystal near your sun and vapourise the system," Gabriel remarks, with a just-as-detached voice, and Jack nods in agreement.
Now, Nox don't do 'alarmed'. They don't give 'pointed looks' as well, yet their representative turns and focuses on Gab.
"Asgard Command is sending five million blank replicators," the Asgard woman returns and updates us.
"Alright!" R takes control of the discussion. "We need ideas."
"Cause we didn't explore the Aschen moons yet," Peers agrees ruefully. "There might be moon frogs there," he adds with a slight smile, and the Nox turns back to look at the display. He's annoyed,
Well, a tad less serene,
About Nox weapon annulling magic, tech, or whatever they might call it, not affecting the replicators. Probably, since the replicators don't reckon themselves to be weapons. Like ours, Nox ZPE-based systems a quirky and intent-influenced. The Lantean use was, and still is, much more scientific, making their system much more limited, but robust and dependable.
"We need to find a way to send a Port there and fold space around it." Victoria tells us.
"Can you set something like this to mount on a torpedo?" Jeremy asks Kazuko, who shrugs.
"Not in a day," she answers.
"Shame Bricks can't pass through," Peers sighs.
"Lantean shuttles can," R offers.
"Lantean shuttles can't fold." Victoria answers. "Reckon Lantean cloak will hold?" she asks the Asgards in the room, who just shrug.
"You never can tell with bees," Harry answers, and before anyone can re-evaluate his sanity, the intercom pings.
"I'm sending you a memory to display," Fleur's voice says before she disconnects. She and captain Deignan are at our door, even before the footage is accessed. It's the captain's memory of our return: Running to the port; The constructs attacking us; Fleur shrike of fright; then…
"Run this memory again, please?" Peers orders. Then again…
"The Bubblehead Charm," I whisper.
"Deflectors!" Kazuko exclaims.
"Our ships have never physically encountered the replicators," Victoria's voice is contemplative.
Luckily, since we never have our deflectors on, while not travelling through hyperspace. The only reason we developed those was to get Calvin off our collective proverbial backs. Victoria moves R from her spot at the head of the table and is already typing in the orders to change that fact.
"We need visuals on the Port landing ramp in Aschen city," R instructs the shift officer. It takes a bit of a while, since the port there is engaged. Had to wait till there was no actual mass in transit, disconnect it manually, then reconnect from our side. When the images arrive, we see the Aschen Port platform and hall full with citizens fleeing to other parts. Local security forces are present around, covering their retreat with gunfire. In front of the platform, though, just around the place where Fleur was standing, is a circle of single, disconnected, quite inert, replicator blocks.
"Send out the blanks to help cover their evacuation," Peers orders, while we all watch.
"How long for some deflector-torpedoes for testing, you reckon?" R asks Jeremy.
"I'm… uncertain?" Kazuko answers.
Can I help in any way?" Boren inquires.
July 12th 2004 - Cambridge
"The galaxy is at an actual risk, you know?" Sam complains about being invited, dragged actually, to this quint Cambridge street, at this particular day. "I have an important job to do."
"Pff," Keira dismissed her derisively. "Nothing to do till Kazuko, Jeremy, and Albert sort out the equipment with the Nox."
"Might need my help," I half heartedly offer. Nothing much for me to actually do, and nothing at all that Harry or Bill can't do themselves.
Today is mildly weathered. Overcast, yet surprisingly not drizzling. Certainly an indoor kind of a day.
Keira leads us to a detached home. Proprietors must truly appreciate their privacy since the place is surrounded with a tall shrubbery. One can hardly see the roof tips above it. She rings and announces herself.
No name on the bell.
We are led through a sparsely furnished home to the back garden deck. There's a small pond beyond it. It reminds me a bit of Monet home in Giverny, which is quite the compliment. Waiting out there is a thin person on an elaborated wheelchair.
Honestly? I ain't worthy!
"Dr Samantha Carter," Sam is introduced to our host. By the look of it, she feels as honoured as I do. "Probably Earth's leading expert on wormhole mechanics," Keira introduces Sam to our esteemed host.
"Fiction-almost kind of theoretical," he smiles. "What institution are you with?" he asks her kindly.
"Experimental, actually," Keira smirks.
"US Air-force," Sam mumbles. "Used to fly F16s for the 14th." she adds lamely.
Not much for credentials in our current company.
Soon enough conversation deteriorates to discuss black holes.
"Gravity doesn't pass through wormholes," our host remarks softly. His tone of voice is a bit like what Sappho used, back then, when we didn't even know what 'subspace' was.
At her side of the table, Keira smirks over her cup of hot tea.
"What I used to tell everyone myself!" Sam enthusiastically agrees. "Till reality came," she mumbles.
"And pulled you through that wormhole you're experimenting with in your F16!" Keira teases her. Sam frowns at this. Being teased, professionally, in front of one of the very uniquely few people on Earth, she can professionally look up to no less, isn't something she finds amusing.
"F16s are not designed to go through," she snarks at Keira. "And its avionics will probably not react well to spaghettification," she adds in an afterthought.
Once more, conversation deteriorates, in that it turns much too scientific for me to actually follow. Conversation veers from black holes to wormholes, and our experimental experience with both, to power requirements, and then to power generation.
"And your thoughts?" our host finally asks me, in an effort to involve me in the conversation.
Power generation is my business, after all.
"Sadly, I have not the pleasure of fully understanding you," I roll my eyes at the bunch of them. After the last six years, and my recent undergraduate in Physics and Computer-Science, I'm certainly not as much of an ignoramus as I used to be, yet in this prestigious company, my hard earned knowledge feels more like the popular sort, albeit about a century more advanced than which is common on Earth. As such, I'm prone to silly mistakes.
"Britanioum?" He asks me, raising an eyebrow.
"It was convenient at the time," I shrug. "But Hydrogen-fusion reactors are about to make all this nonsense obsolete," I add and regret my words almost immediately.
This was an utterly daft thing to say in current company!
Our host keeps his eyebrow raised and turns his wheelchair to face Keira. Behind his back, the circling motions Sam is making with her right hand's pointing finger at her temple tells me she reckons I'm mad as a hatter.
"World's politics isn't ready for E equals MC square," Keira deadpans.
Time to delicately change the subject.
Our host does it smoothly himself, though. "Given the chance, wouldn't you like to go through this wormhole, you're experimenting on, and see what's on the other side?" he asks Sam with a smile. "It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon," he quotes.
"Only a few find the way, some don't recognize it when they do – some… don't ever want to," I answer.
It is time to part our way.
Still have a galaxy to save, and all.
"In a way, I'm envious of what you do," our host tells me with a wishful smile, when at the doors. "Always dreamt of going out to space. Probably a fancy dream in my condition."
My first instinct is to reach for my bag and the tablet in it. Taking him to space isn't an issue at all. Then I'm reminded of just who this person is, and how famous he is.
And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home
Oh, no, no, no
"Will you do it?" Sam asks when we're out and away.
"This is something for R and the Prime Minister to decide," I sigh.
"Can the Ancients and Nox heal him?" Sam further asks, and I sigh again.
"'Heal?' doubtful. His condition is genetic. You can't heal him without creating a new body for him, and engineer it out of his DNA," I answer, not bothering to elaborate on the chance of any of our advanced friends willing to do such a thing.
I'm a rocket man
Rocket man, burning out his fuse up here alone
"Rolling back his symptoms? Likely, but what would you then tell the world?"
NASA's MER-B "Opportunity" (nick-named 'Oppy') was part of the Mars Exploration Rover program. It was launched 2003 and landed, together with its brother MER-A 'Spirit', on Jan 2004. It is known as the rover which travelled the farthest on a foreign planet to date. It far exceeded its planned 90-day program, and went on roving for more than 15 years, travelling 45.16 km on Mars' surface, till it was stopped by a storm on June 2018.
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!
