The words had interrupted Zhukov's dreams of storms of radio-guided bombs falling on enemy positions. "What'd you mean 'no one can fly it'?"
While the marshal of course kept up to date on all major developments of the program, he was a busy man and the weekly briefings hadn't conveyed anything like this.
Durov took the question, "I can." He said simply, "Corporal Borishov can, and Gaius can. Goa'uld technology is, well for want of a better word, 'locked', possibly to prevent the slaves rising up with the Goa'uld's weapons. Gaius and I are about the same with the matter transmutation device Vulcan created, but I'm a better pilot, possibly because I can fly normal planes as well. We've been testing everyone we can with Goa'uld equipment to see if anyone else can activate it and we've got…" he tapped the table, looking around.
"Captain Dzhon Pastukhov of the Air Force." Put in Abramovich.
"Yes Pastukhov, he can activate the technology so we've requisitioned him too, but the problem remains that humans don't generally have the ability to use the telepathic interfaces common to Goa'uld technology, not nearly as well as a Goa'uld or Jaffa can. For example, a Ha'tak can apparently be flown with a small crew because most control systems are telepathic, but that also prevents anyone without the proper training or parasite from using it." Durov paused, "However, the Tel'taks are still very useful. They don't have defence fields, and the hull isn't too thick, but they can go in any direction, even straight up, and get anywhere on the planet in two hours. We managed to fit about 30 men into this bomber variant we've made so potentially they could be inserted to a battlefield and then supported by the craft's sensors or weapons."
Zhukov nodded, his aide was tugging at his sleeve but he leaned forward, "What about their radar profile? If they were smaller they'd make a good covert transport as you say, but with the size of it I can't see how we'd get them past an attentive operator."
Abramovich tapped his watch surreptitiously as Durov continued, "The shape of the Tel'tak makes it look smaller to radar than it is, but the main advantage is its climbing ability. It can come in and take off fast enough to escape any interceptor because it can go into space. We also know the communications technology on the ship can send out its own sort of waves but frankly I need to learn more about how radar works before I'd be able to create a countermeasure."
Abramovich forestalled further discussion with another rap on the table. "Alright I think we'll leave it there for now and take a recess for lunch. We've detailed most of the key issues and certainly more will come out in the working groups. Thank you all." And with that the officers and civilians stood to exchange salutes as Zhukov departed, Durov escorting him out after at the whispered order of Abramovich.
"A very interesting conference Colonel." Remarked the marshal they walked to the lifts. "I'd like to have stayed further but I'm barely back here for a few days before I have to head back east. It's a good thing you installed the ring platforms or I wouldn't have been able to make the trip at all."
"We've made a great deal of progress sir."
Zhukov nodded, "Yes both you and Abramovich know what you're doing. I know Vasilevsky was sceptical of including so many civilians but it seems to have worked out."
Durov considered it, while some in the base would have preferred to run the Program entirely by and for the military, they'd acknowledged that they simply didn't have the expertise to do so, and in time the scientists and historians had proven themselves, "We do work best when we include others." Durov answered, "General Kharchenko had the idea of farming out our theorising to cadets and that worked very well, 'write a paper on the use of 50km range divisional artillery' and so on."
"Yes things are going well." Zhukov concluded. "But there's so much still to be done, particularly in Moscow. The Boss is happy, but there's others who we haven't told about the Program and therefore don't understand the significance of the changes we're making. Look at the Navy! They don't know why they've been told not to plan any new ships in 20 years' time. Or even the Army, now I thought they'd be easier, but the effort needed to reform them into something that could even try to combat a Goa'uld attack is enormous. It seems we need to aggregate and disaggregate corps level formations at will, even down to independent action companies who'd be able to respond to a Jaffa attack after orbital bombardment…" Zhukov shook his head.
Just then two muddy men rounded the corner of a corridor in front of them, their rifles slung over their shoulders.
Durov's face lit up, "Konstan! Is that you under there?"
The men halted, alarmed by the sudden appearance of their superior and of Zhukov, before saluting quickly. "Yes Colonel!" replied one.
"Did you get him?"
The man nodded again.
"Excellent!" Durov turned to Zhukov, "Our first live Goa'uld capture sir."
"Really?"
While they'd taken several minor Goa'uld during the last two years, most had been mortally wounded or killed during battles, with one of Ba'al's underlings being executed by his Jaffa escort just like Lord Mott had been.
"Sir…" Zhukov's aide whined, but the marshal shushed him.
"You go back and get my plane ready, I want to see this!"
Durov ordered the men to lead the both of them on to the prisoner.
"A Goa'uld in an Unas host had been extracting slave tribute from a transplanted Celtic community. We found this unusual because the Goa'uld don't use Unas hosts anymore, and because the Celts were Christians."
"Christians!" exclaimed Zhukov, "I thought the Goa'uld had all left a thousand years before Christ?"
"So did we, but we know Sokar, who seems to be some sort of exile System Lord, was on Earth abducting people at least as late as 800AD or so."
"And who's this 'Sokar' posing as?" asked Zhukov, "He'd be a pagan god to these Celts I'd have thought?"
"He's an Egyptian underworld god, but-" and before Durov could finish they heard shouts in front of them and a door opened, a man being thrown out.
Durov had reached for a holster he wasn't wearing and Zhukov stopped dead with a cry.
"Give us your rifles and get in there!" ordered the marshal and they quickly followed the soldiers into the room, toward bestial roars and crashing.
Durov's boot skidded on the floor as he turned, rifle up, breaching through the door to see several men wrestling with the Unas. Dimitri had one of its arms pinned behind its back while two men had the legs, stopping the creature from getting any leverage and using its symbiote-given strength. The Goa'uld struggled under them, the claws of its left hand bloody from its strikes against another man nearby, it wore the tattered remnants of a straightjacket which had clearly failed to restrain it.
"Stay on him Dimitri!" shouted Durov as he went forward, bringing the butt of his rifle up to strike the creature on the chin as it tried to rise.
The two men who'd escorted them in leapt forward tacked it to the ground again, one trying to get his arm around the creature's massive neck.
The five men on the Unas managed to wrestle him into the waiting cell with Durov and Zhukov covering them in case of another escape. The door slammed shut and its bolt screeched as the Goa'uld pounded on the door. Dimitri fumbled with the lock before collapsing back against the wall with a sigh of relief. "Thanks for that Colonel." The big man said, "I put a whole magazine into him before we hauled him back, I thought that would have put him out for longer."
Zhukov regarded the newly promoted Captain with a smile, his eyes lingering on the crucifix that had slipped out from around Dimitri's neck. "Good work Captain." Said the marshal, "Are you injured?" he asked, holding out a hand to haul the big man up.
Dimitri seemed to take no more than ordinary account of Zhukov's rank, and even seemed not to recognise the marshal, but he saluted well and then went to see to his men.
The two other officers approached the cell door, within they saw only the baleful glowing eyes of the Goa'uld, light from the outside glinting off its scaled host.
"You do not know what you have done." The creature said, its voice deep and malignant. "The tortures my master will inflict on you will be legendary."
"Who do you serve?" demanded Zhukov.
"Your wretched souls will kindle the fires of Netu." The beast spat, "Satan will burn this world!"
Zhukov regarded the Goa'uld coolly, his eyes dark and hard. "No." he said quietly, "I don't think he will."