Chapter 14

Location: Terra Nova System, Asteroid Belt

Date: February 16, 2025

Time: 1200 Hours

Over a week had gone by and she hadn't faced him again. Going on two, sometimes three flights a day Ensign Patricia "Midas" Sinclair had racked up an undefeated record. Well, she was undefeated with the exception of her very first engagement with the General himself. None of her comrades could touch her in the air, not with a Banshee at her fingertips. The jet-black flying wing had become an extension of herself, making the agile strike fighter dance as if it were weightless. In many cases it was weightless.

They had so far moved from the basic combat maneuvers in atmosphere to forging a path forward into zero-gee combat for Earth's fighters. They had a huge list of maneuvers and tactics that ha to memorize and try. Sometimes these tactics were worthless, and tossed from the training regimen as new tactics were learned in their place. They'd mastered the art of flight mostly, but they still had a long way to go. They were all combat pilots, and they had to know how to fight in space where traditional logic did not necessarily apply. Some learned faster than others, and Ensign Sinclair was one of the gifted few who just got it.

"Nugget Flight, Control," came the call over the radio to the flight of four Banshees flying in a standard four-ship formation in the emptiness of the training space outside orbit of Terra Nova.

"Control, Nugget Lead, we copy," Sinclair called out in response. She'd quickly rose through the ranks, achieving the title of flight leader, having a group of four F/A-302B Banshees at her command during exercises larger than two aircraft.

"Standby for contact report…" the man said calmly, "Four bogeys bearing zero-three-four off your nose at Bravo zero-one-zero. Distance fifteen thousand miles and closing fast."

"Copy Control, four bogeys bearing zero-three-four, Bravo zero-one-zero," the young pilot replied, calling off the bearing, the vertical angle, Alpha meaning above them, and Bravo meaning below them. There were no altitudes in space, instead it was all angles instead of feet.

"Bogeys are marked on HUD," the control officer sitting back in comfort of a control room on Terra Nova reminded her as the red marks appeared on her helmet's HUD.

"Roger that Control, Nugget Flight vector to close and engage. Section One vector to zero-five-zero Bravo zero-two-five, section two vector to zero-one-zero Bravo zero."

"Copy Midas, Bullet breaking…now," her other section lead called out, banking his Banshee hard right with his wingman, Cajun, right next to him.

Both were able fliers, former USAF F-16 pilots who had earned themselves some interesting call-signs since joining the EDF. Ensign Don Thresher, callsign Bullet, had earned his callsign one night when he'd jumped into a taxi while drunk after their first liberty. The problem was a Lithuanian guy had jumped in as well, equally drunk. One thing led to another and his real callsign BULIT, stood for Beat Up Lithuanian In a Taxi. Ensign Mike Auburn, his wingman, was classified very quickly as an LSU fan when, during a room inspection, the Drill Instructor found a pair of LSU underwear in his drawer and the name stuck.

The four fighters split into two formations of two Banshees each. They had no real clue what sort of bogeys the instructors were looking to throw at them. Sometimes they were given Death Gliders, sometimes Ori fighters, sometimes Wraith Darts, and sometimes other Banshees, the most dangerous of the four designs. But these simulated bogeys were no Banshees.

Sinclair, with her wingman Jockey, pushed the throttle forward. Her fighter closed the distance, and she began to try for a missile lock with her Space Sparrows, hearing the beeps going off in her ears. She now saw the images appear within the red squares on her HUD. She saw these shapes were dark grey, and triple pointed.

"Heads up Nugget Flight! We've got new birds coming at us," she called out, trying to search through the many briefings and classes she'd had on the many fighter designs she and the rest of the pilots were expected to recognize in the event they encounter them.

"I can identify!" Jockey called out before the name came to her mind, "Make four Colonial Vipers. Potentially hostile."

"Copy that," Sinclair responded, easing her finger off of the trigger. Potentially hostile didn't mean kill on sight, their rules of engagement with potentially hostile contacts was more complex than that. But right as she said the growling of her Space Sparrow's target lock sang in her ears.

"We copy your last Jockey," Bullet replied, "Holding fire."

"Keep missile locks," Sinclair said, "They're potentially hostile. Control, Nugget Lead, we have visual ID on bogeys. Make four Colonial Vipers."

"Roger that Nugget Lead, attempting to contact bogeys and ascertain intentions."

"Boss these guys are always launched from a ship of some kind, where is it?" Jockey asked calmly, searching the local space and his scanner for evidence of the source for these Vipers.

Not programmed into the simulation that's where, Sinclair rolled her eyes at the obvious reason. They hadn't been trained in anti-ship tactics quite yet. That was the Mohican Gunship jockeys who got that training first. They'd had a few sorties alongside these bigger, meaner craft, escorting them on attack runs against both ground targets and simulated ships. But they'd never had the weapons needed to take on one of those ships, the Valkyrie Anti-Ship Missile. So she wasn't expecting a Colonial warship to show up. She had more pressing concerns.

"Nugget Lead, Control," the man called out after a moment, "Colonial Vipers have refused contact and are continuing on an intercept course."

The rest of the Banshee pilots tensed up, their fingers hovering over the triggers. They really wanted to splash these fighters, their classes had taught them that these particular fighters were equally as maneuverable as the average Banshee, and very much capable of bringing down their shields with a volley of their high caliber guns. Their instructors taught them that the best way to engage a Viper was from a distance, and to avoid tangling with them in a tight turning match. Needless to say the four Banshee pilots were itching for something to happen before the Vipers closed the gap and took the initiative by taking this encounter into a turning match.

Then their HUD lit up red around the edges, they were being lit up by the Colonials' targeting radar, or whatever their version was. This was a clear sign of aggression, and the rules engagement allowed for this, they were clear to engage.

"Nugget Lead is lit up!" she called out, "Engaging! Fox-Two, Fox-Two!"

She hit the trigger rapidly twice in a row, and off came two simulated missiles. Immediately the calls for Fox-Two fires from her flight went flying at the Vipers. She saw, in addition her two missiles, an additional four were flying at the hostile flight of four Vipers. Immediately upon their firing the Vipers loosed their own missiles. This triggered a now instinctive response amongst their own formation.

"Missiles in the air! Break, break, break!" Sinclair called out, jinking away from the incoming missile.

The buzzing and red glow in her HUD disappeared as the Vipers lost lock on her Banshee and she looked up to see that the missiles were streaking overhead as the Vipers, way off in the distance, were bouncing around like pinballs as their own missiles streaked towards their targets. The Vipers were very, very nimble, but their missiles were fact and locked on. It seemed almost too easy, even as the Vipers fired away long streams of gunfire to swat at the missiles they bored in, and struck each Viper right dead center.

There were four consecutive simulated fireballs and their HUD's flashed white as their missiles impacted and Sinclar smiled with smug pride at the ease of this victory. More and more victories seemed to be getting this easy. It was actually sort of a let-down to tell the truth, she'd been somewhat excited to engage one of the more formidable fighters the galaxy had to offer. But protocol was protocol, and their first choice of weapons was to engage with missiles and not risk themselves. They'd already intercepted three flights of Wraith Darts that flight, and they were somewhat tired. But that didn't mean they didn't want more.

"All Vipers destroyed, Nugget Flight is…" Sinclair called onto the radio, checking her HUD and saw her fellow Banshees were just fine, "Green. No casualties."

"Copy Nugget Lead, return to base."

"Dammit," she grumbled, "Roger, returning home."

The four birds turned for home, unaware that they were being watched by the commander of their own proud branch. General Mitchell had been watching the intercept mission with rapt attention, and to say he was not wowed by the rather bland performance was an understatement. He'd ordered the fighters to start practicing intercepts on Colonial Vipers and Raptors while the Mohicans and fleet were practicing attack runs against Colonial warships of every measured class.

Things were developing with those nutjobs, and his pilots needed to be prepared to face them if they were called upon early. And judging by recent sensor data was becoming quite likely. The Fleet was diving into its combat exercises, dueling ship-to-ship with simulated Banshees testing the point defense measures of their escorts and their Battle Carriers. Some were conducting short range patrols, learning their craft on the job. But their formal activation couldn't come soon enough. From the intelligence they had the Colonial Fleet was quite a bit larger than theirs, it had decades of experience in space, and had fought several large scale wars. Meanwhile Earth's fleet was a relative newcomer, only one of their Battle Carriers had ever fired a shot in anger, and the other ships had only been the minority of an allied fleet or operating by themselves. It was very rapidly becoming clear that Earth's fleet would need years to properly come to a high state of readiness, at least to their standards. And there were oh so few peoples whose standards were as high as Earth's.

Location: P6R-111

"Wow, never thought we'd make it here," O'Neill said calmly as he and the rest of SG-1 stepped through the gate into the thickly overcast afternoon.

"P6R is one of the few planets that's been able to prosper on this scale since the Gou'ald were destroyed, it's almost required for an SG Team to come check up on them and see if there's anyone worth meeting," Brenda said calmly as she adjusted her baseball cap on her head.

She walked down to meet with the welcoming party that was always here to greet new arrivals. Beside her was Dr. Walt right beside her with his favorite headwear, a fedora with a simple white ostrich feather, well discolored and worn from many years of use. The team was a bit more relaxed at the moment, they didn't have their helmets on, the planet was secure, their weapons were clipped to their vests and just vaguely kept in contact with their owners' fingers. They had their armor on of course, but compared to last time their camouflage was much different. This time around it was EDF Tropic, a mix of Multicam Tropic and Singapore's Woodland patterns. They all had either a ball cap, patrol cap, or boonie hats on their heads as they walked through, looking around for any signs of danger.

They found none, but unbeknownst the SG Team there was danger to be found here. Two black clothed individuals, a man and a woman, each carrying a carbine had seen them walk through the Stargate and as one rolled with a camera the other radioed in. They'd hidden themselves in a small bar/diner, hidden behind hanging bead curtains with many different patrons moving back and forth across their field of vision. There was no way SG-1 could have seen them with everything going on.

"Greetings noble Taur'i," Min Sun spoke to Brenda calmly, giving her a bow, "I am glad you were able to come."

"It is our honor your grace," Brenda replied, "I would like you to meet my translator, Dr. Walt."

Dr. Walt bowed in respect, and then spoke a word of greeting in Mandarin, to which Min Sun smiled ear to ear at hearing his native tongue. The two exchanged some pleasantries in Mandarin, and then Brenda turned to the rest of the team.

"I'd like you to meet the rest of SG-1, and that man there is Colonel Jack O'Neill, the commander of the military portion of the team."

"The O'Neill?" Min asked in awe at the mere mention of his name.

"Two point oh," O'Neill chirped smugly.

"It is a great honor," Min responded, bowing the deepest of any of them.

"To you as well sir. Now, I trust we are here for a reason?"

"Ah, yes," Min replied, "A group of explorers came through the chapa'ai last night. They'd said they'd heard of the Taur'i and asked if we could introduce them to you. And so, here you are."

"These strangers?" Brenda asked, her curiosity peaked, "What can you tell us about them?"

"I don't remember everything, there were so many visitors last night it was rather difficult to remember. But they did look as you do, with firearms like yours."

"Did they give you a name?" Dr. Walt asked.

"They did, however…I can't recall it."

"That's fine, where are they now?" Brenda asked.

"There were many of them, more than you came with, but one of their leaders and a few others went to the palace. The rest are exploring our city I'm sure that you'll see them about," then the Stargate began turning once again and this got his attention, "Ah, if you'll excuse me."

O'Neill nodded to Brenda and waved SG-1 over to his position where they gathered around.

"Okay, these people want peaceful contact, no need to walk in with a dozen troops in front of them, Blanton, take Gibson and go with Jackson and Dr. Walt, keep an eye on things report back on your status when you make contact. The rest of us, split into your teams, take a look around, and don't do anything stupid."

"Copy that sir," Rosario chuckled, "Team Two on me, come doctors," she said calmly, waving their biologist and geologist to follow along with them.

"Mind if I tag along?" Dr. Tew, their medical assistant, asked as he walked up behind them, looking to add himself to that team.

"The more the merrier," Hailey grumbled nonchalantly as they walked along the long artificial dock and market, leaving the other half of SG-1 behind.

"Jackson, Dr. Walt, if you'll follow me please?" Major Blanton confidently responded as he stepped forward waving the two along to follow him, "Gibson, on our six."

"Oh I see how it is, send the guy you don't like to where it's most dangerous huh?" Gibson grumbled, but he didn't mean it. Messing around, so long as it was harmless, was what he did.

"Alright, the rest of you on me," O'Neill called out, waving everyone left to follow him.

The team he now had with him was commanded by Blanton, with Captain Pauley, Lieutenant Holden, and Lieutenant Newbold. The civilians he had under his command were the two tech specialists, Dr. Underwood, and Dr. Ellis (Better known as Ruby due to her insistence her mother was Dr. Ellis), and lastly their medical specialist, Dr. Lawson. Needless to say he had quite a lot of personality under his command right now.

"So…" Underwood said calmly, looking enviously at the source of a wafting scent of cooking pork, chicken, and fish, "Before we go we might wanna…fuel up real fast."

O'Neill and the others looked at the spot he was looking at, seeing a white walled restaurant with a series of tables within a large inner veranda and an open kitchen underneath the roof with smoked and cooking meats hanging or spinning on rotisseries. The place seemed to be filled mostly by visitors judging by their own apparels and skin colors. O'Neill felt his stomach reacting to the smells and sights of food, as every SG Team's protocol was not to eat a meal before a trip through the Stargate.

"We can spare…" O'Neill looked at his watch, seeing that they had plenty of time, "oh let's say a maximum of a half hour."

"Sounds good to me," Dr. Lawson, better known to them as Cat, shrugged her shoulders, "The food here is known to be quite safe as long as it's cooked."

"Let's eat!" Underwood whooped in anticipation and went to the entrance and bowed in politeness and waved to his Ruby and Cat, "Ladies first."

"Why thank you," Cat chuckled, flipping Underwood's hat off as she passed by.

They all walked in as a rumble off in the distance got the four soldiers' attention.

"Great, can't stay out of the rain even on a different planet can we?" Pauley grumbled as he looked at the dark foreboding thunderheads rolling in.

"Good thing this stuff is hydrophobic for the most part," Newbold responded equally grimly, holding his M-506's stock against his waist with the weapon almost on display for anyone with bad intentions to see and understand that they were not to be trifled with.

"I wonder if we can reserve a table though," O'Neill mused good-naturedly as he walked in, glad that this was all the problems they would have to face today. He could live with rain, rain wasn't like getting shot at.

As the Newbold followed him inside Captain Pauley stopped to see Lieutenant Holden not going in. She was their young brunette sniper, and she was looking around, her eyes scanning back and forth. Something had her on alert, and Pauley picked up on it and walked over next to her, facing towards her so they were both looking in opposite directions.

"We're being watched sir," she said with a low whisper.

"Look at where we are Lieutenant, everyone's watching us," Pauley grumbled to her.

"It's not like that Captain, we're-we're being scoped out, I can feel it," she responded, trying to pin down what and who was examining them.

"Alright, do a quick sweep, stay within twenty meters of us. If you do see whoever's watching us report back and get your ass back here. Do not engage," Pauley nodded, knowing she was not going to let this go until she was able to search and satisfy that itching feeling in the back of her mind.

"I'll right back sir," Holden said and then turned and walked into the maze of market stands and disappeared amongst the crowd now starting to thin out as drops of rain began coming down.

Another rumble of thunder made Pauley look into the sky and back away into the courtyard as everyone else began moving inside with an old man eagerly beckoning them forward. He walked in as O'Neill noticed the absence of Holden immediately when Pauley walked in.

"Holden?" he asked.

"Went to sweep the market, said she felt like we were being scoped out."

"She's still jumpy as hell," O'Neill said, "Better get used to being the center of attention or she'll be nothing but frayed nerves by the end of the month."

"That's what I told her sir. Best to let her figure it out."

Holden was going to figure it out, she'd ducked into the long market building and ascended to the second floor balcony where she could have a bird's eye view of the area. This market was quite large, going all the way down the kilometer of dock to the city. From time to time it split into a four-way street with sub-docks branching away from it. The boxy sails of ships coming and going or at dock were everywhere, and the people moving through the market were thick as flees. But that was starting to change, the market stands were beginning to close up, meaning less people to get in the way, and a better chance of seeing the people Holden was sure were watching SG-1.

She carefully walked well away from the balcony railing down the length of the dock for a little while, sometimes having to shoo away people trying to sell something. But then she saw exactly what she was looking for when she got to a bunch of silk hanging from the overhanging roof and took a knee behind a table covered in the rolls of fine cloth. She was seeing two black clothed individuals with light helmets, goggles and short carbines in their hands moving carefully from point to point across from her team. She couldn't get a good look at them but she was sure that this was them.

Without a word she got down a flight of stairs and rushed across the cobble stone street and got into the building where she knew those two men were moving behind. She carefully inched her way around to a point where she could see them doing the exact same thing she was doing. They were both leaning against the wall, keeping an eye on where the others had just gone into. One held a camera in his hand that recording everything while the other one was watching carefully for anyone coming around behind them with his carbine held tightly.

Holden knew that she couldn't engage them, she was alone, and they were just watching them. So she did the next best thing. She took a small cylindrical camera she had on her shoulder, unclipped it, and then aimed it at the two soldiers watching the restaurant. She wanted to get this on film, and she did, but there was a problem. She'd left her rear wide open, and paid for it.

"Hands in the air," a feminine voice growled from behind her.

Holden whirled around, dropping her camera and grasped onto her M-518, ready to bring it to her shoulder. But that plan was cancelled before it began. She had two more near identically equipped individuals aiming a carbine and a SAW right at her. This sight sent a gut wrenching fear into her as the two other soldiers she'd been watching came running over. All she could do was to do as they said, and give them a death glare as best she could.

"Police her weapons," the woman, a tanned short-haired woman slightly shorter than Holden, ordered the man with the SAW.

"Yes ma'am," the man said and carefully unbuckled her DMR and leaned it against the wall before spinning her around and removing her pistol and knife.

"What the frak?" one of the watchers stuttered at the sight of Holden right there as their comrade patted her down for more weapons.

"You were being watched," the woman said with annoyance and handed one of them her rifle.

"Oh frak, what now? We can't let her go now!"

"If you know what's good for you that might be your best option," Holden said, putting her hands on her head, and began reaching for the mike in her ear so that the others would know what'd transpired.

"No you don't!" the SAW gunner snapped, yanking both hands off her head and then grabbed the visible black wire coming from her ear and traced it back to where it plugged in with her armor's comms suit on her back and unplugged it, much to Holden's annoyance.

"What was she trying to do?" the woman said, looking at what he'd done.

"Alert the other Earthers," he said, "Yeah, we definitely can't just let her go."

"No we can't," their officer responded, "Shit…" she growled in frustration, "I guess I know how they felt when they captured Dean. Frakkin' no win situation. Alright we're takin' her to that inn. Sorry about this, we didn't want it to go this way. You'd do the same thing, in fact you have."

Lieutenant Holden didn't say a thing. She just gritted her teeth as she felt her arms pulled to her sides. One of them grabbed her by the handle of her backpack and was yanked her into moving along with them. She was forced to fall in behind the commander of the foursome with the other two on both sides, keeping her in a loose bubble as they carefully skirted around, moving away from her own comrades and towards dangerous territory. Needless to say, this was not good.

As one half of SG-1 relaxed, unaware one of their own had been kidnapped (against the will of both parties to be fair), the other half was off exploring. Major Rosario had her team going through the market, looking at numerous stands as they were shutting down for the day due to the impending storm.

"Whoa, check this out," Dr. Lopez called out as he saw a building at the end of the branch dock they were on. What he'd found was a series of large slabs of what appeared to be either marble or granite stacked outside a building with a large ship and several different cranes all built around it to offload the heavy cargo.

"Yeah…rocks," Lieutenant Baird grumbled as he walked over and gave one of the slabs a soft tap with his foot.

"Oh he's just a geologist, have some patience," Dr. White chuckled as he absentmindedly looked through his own samples of flowers he's gathered at a vendor for a few blank silver coins issued for the purpose of trade. The EDF had produced thousands of them with its matter synthesizers as gold was still a fairly universal trading commodity.

"Oh and what're you doing that's so important with your flowers there amigo?" Dr. Lopez responded with equal contempt as he ran a testing tile along the granite pieces.

"Well if you must know I am unraveling a new ecosystem, you're looking at rocks," the biologist replied as he sat down on a bench as he continued his examination.

"Pinche puto," Dr. Lopez scoffed.

"Hey!" Rosario snapped loudly, "calmarse o estaran siento!"

"Siento, siento," Lopez waved her down, well aware that she'd probably live up to her threats.

"What'd she say?" Dr. White replied, curious as to what she had said.

"She said shutup or you both will be sorry," Hailey responded as she looked through a stand that had several items she was recognizing, "Major, check this out."

"What is it Hailey?" Rosario grumbled as she came up next to her second-in-command as Hailey picked up a red crystal.

"Gou'ald data crystals," she responded, looking at it through the light for any imperfections, "Good condition too."

"How much?" Rosario asked, digging into her pack for a bag of silver coins.

"No," the old woman behind the table replied, "Sold."

"Sold?" Hailey asked, "To who?"

"Me," a young voice said calmly as a young black-haired man with a backwards facing ball-cap dressed entirely in black stepped in between them, "Here you are."

"See?" the vendor took a small golden rectangular prism rubber-banded together and then responded to the two women, "Sold. See, gold."

"Pleasure doing business," the man responded confidently and took the crystal along with three other crystals and wrapped them in a white cloth before putting them in a backpack he slung over his shoulder. They both saw he was wearing a military-looking get-up, with a poncho on over his uniform and his sleeves rolled up so they couldn't see any actual markings.

"Hold on," Hailey snapped as he began walking away, grabbing his pack.

"What? I didn't steal this stuff, or did you not pay attention just now?" the curly haired man responded with an air of arrogance equal to those who had reason for being arrogant.

"Do you have any idea what those things are? Or do you just like buying things?" Hailey snapped back.

"And how might you know gorgeous?" he chuckled back to her.

A furious flash of red went right across Hailey's cheeks at this particular tease. Normally Hailey would just start wailing on him but she couldn't afford another instance of that on her record. So she fought down the frustration and decided to verbally make him look bad.

"I probably know more than you do, those crystals are Gou'ald data storage units."

"Gou'ald data storage…" the man mumbled, looking at her in curiosity, "Well, they're certainly not going to the rock people. These are mine now."

"You have no idea what you're working with," Hailey chased after him as he began walking away.

"Oh I don't? I must be a fool then, because a 3-D mapping of the crystals' molecular structure and atomic bonds must not be how I start," the man said as he continued walking away and they just kept getting farther and farther away before he turned up the street to the right.

"No, it's more complicated than that!"

"Hailey!" Rosario yelled after her, just now becoming aware that her team XO and tech specialist had just about run off.

Hailey stopped as she got to the corner in time to see that the man she'd been following, unconsciously, had led her to his own team, five black clothed individuals, three carrying carbines and another carrying a machine gun, all saw the bright green camo uniform of Hailey walk around the corner right on next to their own civilian charge.

"Doc, what the frak have you been…" one of them stuttered as they realized that there was a problem here. He furrowed his brow as he tried to recognize something familiar about Hailey's uniform and equipment. Then he found it within a recent memory, "Hey you, hold on!"

"Shit!" Hailey snapped and turned to ran, heading right back towards her team mates. Hailey had a photographic memory so she knew exactly who these people were.

Instead of running full tilt she felt her backpack get grabbed as she turned. It was the Colonial she'd been talking with, he'd seen that his own comrades wanted to speak with her, so he'd just decided to try and help, and he let her know that.

"What're you…" Hailey roared, turning around brought her rifle to the man's face in an attempt to get him to let go.

"We just want to talk," he said, holding a hand out in front of the barrel of her rifle, trying to calm her down, "Hear us out."

"Put the weapon down," several Colonials uneasily said to Hailey as they reached the two.

"We just want to talk," the man said calmly, but Hailey didn't back down, "Uh…my name's Dr. Cruz, I'm our team's tech specialist. You?"

Hailey didn't budge from her position. She didn't trust Colonials, and with good reason, she'd been shot by one the last time they'd came across one another. It wasn't an injuring blow in the least, but that tends to eliminate the possibility of trust.

"Let me go, now," Hailey just growled, "and back off."

"Okay, but please hear us out," the man said calmly, slowly letting go of the handle on her backpack and backed away, hands in the air.

"Right…" the Colonial officer said uneasily, "Now lower your weapon, no need for anyone to get hurt."

"Good advice," Major Rosario piped up from out of nowhere.

The Colonials looked up to the second floor of the market building next to them to see three more members of SG-1. They had seen that Hailey had gotten into a bit of a pickle, so they'd flanked the group she'd gotten into a standoff with, ascending the stairs quietly until they were able to announce themselves. They each had a rifle or SAW on each Colonial below them, who were surprised at the presence of more Earthers.

"Now," Rosario calmly said, "No one's done anything to anyone here. So let's just calm down."

However at that moment Lieutenant Holden, and her four captors, walked around the corner to see this Mexican Standoff developing before them. She'd been caught trying to catch some Colonial look-outs herself, and due to the Colonials' paranoia for their own safety they'd decided it best to just bring her along. It wasn't the best decision, but it they just couldn't trust her not to turn around alert her comrades who were as likely to start shooting as they were to take off running before they could speak to them.

"Oh frak," their officer growled, shoving everyone back behind a building.

"There a problem?" Holden chirped, having a pretty good idea as to what was going on.

"Shut up!" the Colonial woman snapped, her mind racing to figure out what to do now, "Shit! This is not good, this is not good…"

"Eltee?" one of the men asked her.

"Section Two is in a standoff with an Earth team. They see this," she pointed out, motioning to Holden, "We could have a shootout."

"Well that's not good, for you," Holden chuckled, confident in her comrades' abilities.

"Since when did you think you'd win?" one of the men snapped defensively, "Last you're the one who's captured."

"Yet I'm not the one who's got the problem of being on the moral low ground."

"Hey, you're the ones who kidnapped one of our people on Kobol, and your people fired the first shots at our troops on a planet outside our territory not too long ago."

"Oh yeah, Major Blanton," Holden chuckled, remembering the story that their XO loved telling, "And to be fair she sought those Aussies out and I wasn't there."

"Oh so you're familiar with those incidents," the Colonial lieutenant responded, rolling her eyes as she looked around the corner at the developing situation.

"Well you're dealing with that team," Holden noted with a shrug.

"You were there?!" one of the others snapped, grabbing her by the hard cloth-covered armored piece on her upper chest and shoved her against the wall.

"A little pissy your guys couldn't handle us?" Holden smirked, right in his face.

"Arrogant bitch," the man hissed.

"That's enough sarge," the lieutenant snapped quickly, knowing that Holden was just poking and poking, trying to deliberately keep them off balance mentally, "And you need to seriously shut up," she said directly to Holden, "I've got cuffs and tape in my pack and I will use them."

"Please don't, you'll only piss her off," a new voice belonging to Colonel O'Neill called out.

The Colonials turned around, coming face-to-face with O'Neill, Captain Pauley, and Lieutenant Newbold aiming their weapons at them with Dr. Underwood, Dr. Ellis, and Dr. Lawson all poking their heads out from around the corner.

"Shit…" one of the Colonials grumbled as he put his hands up.

"Holden, grab your stuff," Pauley ordered his DM quickly.

The brunette walked over to one of the Colonials with a smug smirk on her face as she retrieved her rifle, pistol, and combat knife. The Colonial was simply pissed, he'd gone from the captor to the captured.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way but…" Holden chuckled, mimicking the Colonial officer, "Move it."

Colonel O'Neill grinned in contentment at the Colonials who glared at him before motioning for them to walk. The rest of the SG-1 team forced them forward with their civilians right behind them, watching in curiosity. They walked into the open, just in time for them to see their comrades in a Mexican Standoff with another portion of SG-1. When they saw their comrades with hands held high they knew they'd been out-done this day. Their commander ordered them to lower their weapons, and they all gathered into a group. But they had gotten a call out. SG-1 only had about half of the Colonials that were on this planet.

Unknown to all of them the small negotiation team of Brenda Jackson, Dr. Walt, Major Blanton, and Lieutenant Gibson had already made it to the large palace standing proudly at the foot of the dock, across a large public square. They'd jogged inside the massive open red doors, unaware they were being watched from several angles by the remaining half of the Colonial Recon Team. At this point the Colonials didn't know about the fate of their comrades, but they sure recognized them.

"Extraordinary," Dr. Walt breathed as they entered the grand courtyard of the palace.

Surrounding them was a tall wall with guards standing at attention holding spears with long yellow and red flags flapping in the wind. There were large straight-edged buildings on three sides of them with their blue-green tiles shedding off some of the rain now beginning to fall. There was a large fountain in the middle of the courtyard with an intricately carved quintuplet of Asian dragons with water coming from their mouths and overflowing from the elevated platform they were on. Large trees were scattered in a pair of parallel lines going towards the main palace building. Each was covered in bright yellow flowers that were raining onto the stone ground with each blow of the wind.

"Looks familiar," Brenda mumbled under her breath as she walked in, leading them in.

"Yes, very reminiscent of the Forbidden Palace," Walt responded, "I've been there before and I must say this is…"

"Another league of cool," Gibson said with complete admiration for his surroundings.

"Well it does seem to certainly be bigger, with more complex additions such as running water obviously," Walt said as they passed the dragon fountain.

"I'd bet the Chinese were not all that happy to see their great palace got one-upped when they first saw this place," Blanton chuckled, knowing the Sinocentrism habits of their Chinese teams.

"Pillocks," Walt snapped, "I almost forgot."

The older man pulled out a camera and began snapping pictures as they walked towards the entrance which was a tall flight of ten stairs with guards standing on both sides, not holding muskets, but holding Staff Weapons. This was a clear sign that this was once a Gou'ald controlled planet, and these people had taken what was once a weapon of oppression and turned it into one of honor in the hands of their Royal Guards.

They entered the building, astounded to see a massive entranceway with tall red columns with three levels of balconies built amongst them. Expensive embellishments were everywhere, and a green jade floor echoed every sound of their wet boots. They walked onto the floor and noticed a gold symbol molded into the floor that they recognized.

"The symbol of Yu," Walt said with amazement, kneeling down and taking off his hat to inspect the floor, "We always suspected…but it seems this is pretty affirmative confirmation gents, and lady."

"Blanton, this is O'Neill," the Major's radio crackled in his ear.

"I read you Colonel," Blanton responded, turning away from his comrades to answer the call.

"Be advised Major, we've caught ourselves some Colonials. Keep your eyes open."

"Don't worry sir, we're in the palace now, should be making contact with…" Blanton trailed off, his eyes catching sight of something in a branching hallway.

He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he knew he saw something or someone.

"Blanton!"

"Wait one sir," Blanton said, aiming his rifle down the hall as he walked towards it.

He cleared the rows of columns, seeing nothing but torches and unlit candles. He then went to the hall, and poked his head in, and saw nothing. This was somewhat of a concern, as he could have swore he saw something.

"It was nothing sir," Blanton responded, "We'll get Jackson and Walt to the meeting and keep our eyes open."

"Very well, O'Neill out."

"Jackson, Doc, come on, we've got places to be!"

The foursome walked out of the entryway, and made their way through the halls, passing several rooms with secretaries working on scrolls, musicians, and even some concubines that actively flirted with them as they passed. The whole time they were being watched, Colonial troops shadowed them from within several of these rooms, moving into the hall and stayed around the corner as they followed them. By the time they made their way to a large open room the SG-1 team could just feel that something was wrong.

The room was rather large, with a single long table in the center of the room with cushions for sitting around it. A long paper window was directly across from the entrance to the room and many different tapestries and flags and banners were hanging from the walls and ceiling all along the lengths of the walls. The floor was soft carpet, and the burning incense and candles on the table provided more light than the ever-darkening sun, thanks to the cloud cover, could provide.

"Wow, nice place," Brenda chirped as she walked in, unaware of the danger around them.

"Isn't it?" a new raspy male voice called out.

Low and behold came a man from behind a hanging tapestry, aiming his carbine from the hip. His black uniform clearly indicated that he was Colonial, and he wasn't alone. Five more Colonials emerged from the cover of the walls, aiming their weapons at the Earthers, each was yelling for them to drop their weapons, don't move, hands up, and so on.

The four Earthers moved to escape, but four more Colonials ran inside from the door they'd just entered from, aiming their weapons at them. The yelling continued for several moments as Blanton came up with a plan and put his left hand to his belt, and grasped onto the pin of a flash bang grenade and held his right hand in the air and then pointed his pointer finger up. It was a sign for 'hold on' and the Colonials saw this and the yelling died down.

He continued pulling on the pin with his thumb, and pulled the flash off of its place and then spoke to Brenda who had backed up near him and as had Dr. Walt.

"I've got a plan," Blanton whispered, "It might get us killed, but if it works it'll be seriously badass. Cool?"

"Absolutely not!" Walt responded, "I will do no such thing."

"Cool…" Blanton said carefully, ignoring the older man entirely.

"Blanton…" Brenda whispered, trying to get his attention.

"Flash out."

The faces of the Colonials was one of confusion, it was just so out of the blue. But the flash bang grenade the fell to the floor was certainly enough for them to notice, and instinct took over.

"Grenade!" each of the Colonials roared in unison and ducked away, opening a hole for the SG-1 team to rush forward.

"Run!" Blanton roared, and he grabbed Brenda and Dr. Walt and shoved them forward.

The flash bang rolled on the floor and a second later it detonated in a powerful bang and a bright flash, as the name would suggest it might. The Colonials had turned away, but the confined space, even as big as the room was, didn't numb down the effects by much. The two Earther military personnel were able to keep their momentum going forward, and ran clean through the paper window/wall in front of them and fell onto the sloping of the bluish green roof tiles, and tumbled. They took a great many of the tiles with them, tumbling off of the roof, and fell a full floor to smash into another set of paper windows and tumbled into a kitchen, sending pots, pans, food, cups, and all matter of utensils flying in all directions.

"Dammit…" Blanton groaned, shoving a few metal woks off of his chest as he sat up, aiming his rifle at the hole they'd just come through, "Gibson, Walt, Jackson, sound off."

"Major remind me to kick your ass," Gibson groaned, getting up off of the ground, brushing off hundreds of grains of rice that had gotten onto his uniform.

"Jackson? Walt?" Blanton called out, looking around in the mess they'd made, but his stomach dropped at the lack of two civilians, "Oh crap."

When the flash had gone off the two civilians had been too disoriented. They just couldn't make it, and had fallen onto the ground. Dr. Walt was the first to get his bearings, and rushed to grab Brenda who was still holding her hands over her eyes.

"Damned grenade!" she screamed, "I looked right fucking at it!"

"Bad idea," the Colonial commander said calmly, and both Earth civilians looked up into the barrels of four Colonial rifles, pointing right at them. Walt, in classic British tact, just couldn't leave the situation be without a few words being said.

"Oh bugger."

It took me a bit longer but I did it. This one I had to really be very careful with, lest I have one side do something stupid, or too stupid I guess would be the correct term. There are a few things that aren't entirely realistic but these teams are still new to their jobs, with the exception of O'Neill. Neither wants to start a war, and yet both don't want contact with the other unless they have the upper hand, that leads to some tense moments, as you will see later on.

Unfortunately tragedy has occurred since I began writing this chapter. In Brussels the evil cowardice of terror has struck again. The dead have yet to be completely counted, and the wounded are still not out of the woods. So I would like to ask that if you do pray, you pray for the victims and the victims' families who are going through this tragic moment. And to the people of Belgium, of whom you have given me 155 views this month (I am not sure how correct this is I am using Google Translate):

Plus forts ennemis vous ont attaqué. Vous êtes toujours là.

Next Chapter Preview: The Colonials cross a line without knowing it.