AN: Apparently 'Defusal' isn't a word. Ok then? Seeing excellent discussion on SB and to a lesser extent on the other forums, so let's all continue that shall we?
This serves as the end of the first arc. After this we'll have a succession of short 'debrief' chapters, specifically looking at some of the learnings they've got during this arc, which also enables me to really get things moving with the story. This arc has been 'Vulcan', the next will be 'Ares', so while we'll be stopping at several of the stations of canon for a short time the service will be diverted significantly afterwards.
Incidentally, I'm beginning an experiment to improve readership. This mean I'll be changing the times and dates of the next few updates. As said before, this one is the last of an arc, so the next few will be short, but regular enough to see if my hypothesis regarding readers will work. While the majority of readers are Anglospheric, a significant proportion are from the former Warsaw Pact (which given the subject matter is unsurprising), as such I'm not sure which times are best to post at.
-x-
The chase was on.
Wheels skidding in the mud and braches flying in all directions as the armoured car ploughed through them SG-2 and Captain Ivanovich sped after the smoking alien craft.
After being struck by Vulcan's weapon on their way through the pass the team had brought up the rear of the column, and had arrived too late to do anything but protect the artillery and the camp supplies. They had made two runs of ammunition in trucks to replenish Major Reniv's forces standing guard at the entrance to Vulcan's pyramid, the first time neither time coming under fire as the first attack had, leading Ivanovich to suggest to the Major that the alien god was out of ammunition. Unfortunately, Reniv had already thought of that but nevertheless Ivanovich was pleased with himself.
Suslov had taken him aside after he'd led the first attack on the Minotaur and the Beastman army, and had given him some more to think about regarding his conduct on the mission, and the Captain as worried he'd disappointed his superior by not making more progress during the mission. Indeed, it was frequently rather disheartening hearing all the other officers talk about the exploits of Colonel Durov during the war and how much more important the officer had been during the Great Patriotic War.
But this was a chance not only to help himself (which Ivanovich knew he shouldn't be considering as a good Communist) but the Union (which was rather more important) as well.
"I can't maintain this speed Captain!" called the driver, one of the regimental soldiers Ivanovich had grabbed when he'd seen the escape of Vulcan's machine.
"We must!" he replied, shouldering his way through his team toward the front of the armoured car. "If he crashes he can't be allowed to escape, who knows whether he has a secondary escape route."
"Yes sir." Said the driver, "But-" and he grunted as he wrenched the wheel, swerving violently to the right, throwing Ivanovich against the left side of the door, his head bouncing off the frame painfully, "Sorry sir!"
"It's fine, just drive!" he said, kneading under his beret.
"That's what I was saying sir. I can't get through here, before at the bottom of the valley there was space between the trees, but here there are too many rocks, I can't get us though, not fast anyway."
Ivanovich fumed. But he refused to fail because of a few rocks. "Then stop here." He told the driver, "We're dismounting!"
The armoured car skidded to a stop, and though they'd no doubt miss its armour and turret SG-2 swiftly unloaded their equipment and started off into the forest.
SG-2 was the tactical response team, they went through the gate whenever other teams needed immediate support and like the Roman First Cohort, they stood at double strength, with two machineguns, automatic rifles and a marksman. They also took more grenades, of all types, than the other teams, so Ivanovich knew he would be well equipped to fight a god.
However, anything more than that was outside their remit, because though they were the best trained in tactics and marksmanship, unlike the other teams like SG-1 they had none of the support personnel attached, and except for the new teams they had the least experience off world.
Ivanovich's thighs burned as he ran up the hill, but he led his team on, racing away from the now useless transport and following a trail of smoke hanging in the air toward Vulcan's crash site. However, the smoke was rapidly dissipating in the mountain wind, and Ivanovich soon to his radio operator, "How much further and which way?" he asked quickly, catching his breath after the run.
The question and response did not take long and they soon had another bearing. As they reached the bottom of the first hill and followed along a small creek heading west he heard the drone of Mikhailov's biplane, coming up behind them. They ran on with the aerial officer above them radioing down directions. However, after a series of seemingly random turns through the trees and up another rise Ivanovich began to smell an acrid stench, and when he looked up he saw the wreckage Vulcan's craft had made when it crashed through the canopy with broken branches littering the forest floor and hanging down by their bark above them.
Ivanovich took the radio, "Mikhailov, we're here, but I don't see the crash site."
"You're right on it, I can see you." Came the reply, "It's 50 metres west of you, do you see that mountain with the round top?"
He looked up, "Yes I have it."
"The crash is between you and that. But you'll have to go around it, the ground is too steep. I advise that you break your team into two and flank."
Ivanovich nodded and did so with orders to converge and drive Vulcan toward the steep side of the hill to prevent any escape. They climbed down anyway, going round the side, almost climbing between each tree to keep themselves from stumbling and falling uncontrollably all the way down.
Then they heard gunshots and saw Mikhailov diving toward the canopy, pistol in one hand firing rapidly.
"What's he doing?" asked one of the soldiers in amazement.
"Doesn't matter." Replied Ivanovich, "Faster!"
And again they moved off, now catching sight of a large grey body lying before them, but also the golden light of the staff weapon as Vulcan fired back at Mikhailov.
"Onotov." said the Captain, turning to their marksman "you and Petrov stay here, fire at him to make him run, remember, we want him alive. I'll take him once he's running."
They nodded and moved toward a small ditch, carbine and machine gun ready in their hands.
Ivanovich moved closer, making as little noise as possible and coming up around the side of the crashed spacecraft. He looked up and saw Mikhailov coming around for another pass, this time his weapon silent, evidently lacking the time to reload. It cost him though, as while he stooped like a hawk on a rabbit, Ivanovich heard the whooshes of Vulcan's staff, and saw three golden bolts strike Mikhailov's plane.
Ivanovich knew he had to move. He ran forward, Petrov opening up with the machine gun after the Captain's signal, and driving Vulcan toward Ivanovich.
The god, or false god, was a young man with a sharp face, his hair closely cropped to his skull. He wore a short robe of intermediate colour and a golden bracelet, as well as carrying a pack over one shoulder. Seeing the running Soviet, he turned, switching targets from Mikhailov's burning plane which was already going down, to fire two bolts at Ivanovich. The first soared overhead with a hiss while Ivanovich dodged the second, ducking low and to the left.
He closed the distance before Vulcan could fire again and leapt toward him, Ivanovich ramming his shoulder into the god's waist and bearing him to the ground.
SG-2 came up behind, with Ivanovich's section throwing themselves over the god as their Captain had done. But their opponent seemed incredibly strong, freeing an arm swiftly even with Ivanovich pinning it to a rock. Vulcan struck one soldier with a punch, knocking him cold, and threw another to the side as if a child. Ivanovich saw him put two kicks into Dragolov and then had the wind knocked out of him as Ivanovich himself was struck back, seeming to hang in the air before thudding into the side of the alien craft.
Just like the craft, Ivanovich felt as if an 88mm shell had it him and not Vulcan's foot, and he staggered up, amazement dawning on his face as Vulcan threw off the last man and ran off toward his fallen staff.
"Get him!" the Captain shouted, starting forward himself, clutching his side with one arm and drawing his pistol with the other.
The others had rallied and also started off after the god, Dragolov again catching up before he was thrown back again.
Two shots rang out, Onotov's carbine, with one catching Vulcan in the leg in a little red bloom.
The god fell down with a cry, still some metres from his staff weapon, but he turned swiftly, and his hand seemed to glow, and after that a wave of energy swept out, throwing three men back bodily just as far as his punches had.
Onotov struck again, and another round flew with incredible speed, striking Vulcan in the shoulder just as the god prepared another attack, his arm going limp. He god snarled something in a strangely deep voice.
Ivanovich reached him and trained his pistol, "Stop or die!".
But Vulcan did neither and instead started to cough, rolling over onto his hands and knees.
None of the Soviets approach him, and trained their own weapons on him in case of treachery.
The god spoke, something indistinct, and seemed to mutter to himself. Then he was violently sick and again Ivanovich watched amazed as a long pale worm emerged from the god's mouth. Then without any warning Vulcan picked up a large stone from the forest floor and brought it down on the worm, almost cutting it in half with the force of the blow.
Vulcan rolled over next to the thing he'd killed, lying flat on his back and breathing heavily. A smile crossed his face and he regarded Ivanovich, "Salve brother, and thank you. You've freed me."
"Be quiet and stay still. If you move you die." Replied Ivanovich, and the Soviets approach slightly, their weapons still trained.
"I will, and gladly." Said Vulcan, he breathed again, inhaling carefully and smiled, "Did you find an old man at the pyramid as well?"
Ivanovich frowned, rather feeling that he was missing something. He gave orders for the radio to be brought up and it swiftly was, allowing him to relay the question and their situation back to Colonel Durov's command.
"Yes, a dead one." Came the reply, somewhat muffled and not a voice Ivanovich recognised. The speaker said nothing in congratulation or to give further orders. "Ask him about a metal sphere with blinking lights."
"A dead old man." Repeated back Ivanovich.
Vulcan's face fell, "A shame." He said, "I'd hoped he would have been able to survive the demon. What about a ball, about this large?" and he held his hand about half a metre off the floor, prompting shouting from the Soviets for him to stay still.
The look on Ivanovich's face seemed to answer the question and Vulcan's face blanched, "You must not touch it!" he cried, "The Demon set it to destroy you!"
"It's a bomb." Reported Ivanovich into the radio.
"We gathered that." Came the reply immediately, "How do we defuse it?"
Vulcan pleaded for the microphone and the Captain grudgingly gave it to him, satisfied he couldn't do any harm with it while guarded by six men with Kalashnikovs.
A shout drew his attention and he turned and saw Mikhailov walking up, gripping the shoulder of Petrov and limping. He went to the officer and grasped him by the hand. "Well done comrade! Well done!" the man said to Ivanovich.
The latter smiled, "Thank you, and thanks to you as well, but why did you try to strafe him with just a pistol?"
Mikhailov gave a wry smile. "I found the crash site easy enough but you were too far behind, he'd packed up something in a bag and looked like he was about to run for it. Better to lose a plane than lose him in the woods I thought."
Ivanovich nodded, the attack, ineffective as it was had indeed distracted Vulcan long enough for them to take him. "It was well done regardless."
Mikhailov looked toward the prisoner. "He seems…" he began and trailed off.
Ivanovich nodded, "Either he's a very good liar or there's a lot more we don't understand still." He said.
They continued their discussion for another minute or so, but Ivanovich eventually suggested Mikhailov sit down, as he thought the man's leg was probably broken, and should be attended to before he put any weight on it. Mikhailov replied that the force necessary for a man to be propelled five metres in a single hit was enough that Ivanovich himself should probably be seen to as well.
The Captains smiled wryly at each other but Mikhailov went to rest as advised while Ivanovich came back to the group, favouring his uninjured side and winching as each step send a jolt of pain through his torso.
"Sir." Said Dragolov and handed him the radio.
"This is Ivanovich."
"Ivanovich, this is Durov, Dr. Diakonoff is preparing to perform the procedure the prisoner supplied. If you don't hear from us within a minute, or if anything else unusual happens, kill him. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir." Said Ivanovich firmly. He cocked his pistol and held it ready. One of the SG-2 members with medical training was tending to Vulcan's wounds but retreated at Ivanovich's signal.
They were silent for a short time, and Ivanovich knew that if Vulcan had deceived them it was likely the whole program would be set back significantly. Alternatively, if Vulcan had indeed decided to help them for some reason then all his treasures included his energy weapons and his escape craft would be preserved for study.
But just as Ivanovich was reading himself to execute the prisoner the radio crackled again. "Ivanovich, this is Durov, the device is inert, defusal successful."
Grins broke out across the team and even Vulcan smiled.
"Keep that crash site secure." Continued Colonel Durov, "Suslov is on his way, we will reach you in 30 minutes."
"Yes sir!" replied Ivanovich and he relinquished the radio. He closed his eyes and sighed, again wincing slightly as his ribs twinged. He looked around, taking in the scene again.
On one side of the clearing, among all the broken branches, lay Vulcan's ship, but without any discernible door or opening. It's engines at the rear, composed of two large boxes with concentric circles still glowed a dull blue, and there seemed to be a brown sludge leaking from the seam of one of the boxes.
Ivanovich frowned, "Vasil," he addressed Dragolov, "You had your flask in the car correct?"
Dragolov nodded.
"Wash it out and put the snake in it." He said, gesturing to the dead creature sitting in the sun. "Petrov, empty your canteen and take some samples of that stuff." His small knowledge of chemistry told him that it might react to the steel or the water residue, but he also knew that preserving a sample inside a sealed container might be of some assistance to the scientists back at the base.
The men busied themselves, Dragolov jogging off toward where they'd left their vehicle and Petrov drinking the rest of his water before setting off toward the engines. Satisfied that the situation was under control Ivanovich went to sit down himself, and opened his jacket to see a dark blot growing across all his left side. He poked it and hissed in pain.
"Sir." Said the medic, and Ivanovich waved him to start work.
When he opened his eyes again Suslov was shaking him. "Captain, are you alright?" the Major asked.
Ivanovich nodded, not even realising he'd fallen asleep. He made to stand but Suslov pushed him down gently by the shoulder. "Stay there and rest comrade, you took a bad hit. The Colonel will be here soon and we can finally get some answers."
He watched, in somewhat of a daze as Suslov took charge, more soldiers arriving. Vulcan's guard had increased and several of the support vehicles had joined them, taking up station over the ridge to overlook the camp. Eventually he saw Colonel Durov step out of an armoured car, his face stern and commanding. He strode over to Ivanovich and greeted him, with Ivanovich standing, feeling much better.
"A fine result Captain!" exclaimed the Colonel. "Shall we see to the prisoner?" and they walked over to Vulcan, who's leg was bandaged and arm in a sling to support his wounds till the Regimental doctors could arrive.
The fallen god looked up as they approached and nodded at Durov. "You are the leader?" he asked.
Durov nodded.
"Then I thank you most of all." Said Vulcan bowing his head. "The Demon had enslaved us for centuries."
Durov said nothing.
The prisoner sighed, looking down at the golden device on his wrist. "I suppose I should tell you about the Goa'uld."