AN: Hey look! It's the League! (sorta…)

Thanks to Luli27 and Skunk and Hedgehog for reviewing. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. You so totally rock.

OSCOSCOSCOSC

Chapter Fifteen: An Extraordinary Invitation

"Mai'tac, mai'tac, mai'tac!" Daria swore as she swung the door to her room shut behind her, a bit harder than she had intended. It had been nearly four months since she had left Holmes to his own investigations at Reichenbach Falls, and the month called June was coming on wet and rainy, like May had been, and April before that. Since her return from Switzerland, she'd had no word of her objective, no hint to the doings of the Black Hawks. Between that, her superiors' growing discontent, the constant rain, and the London police sniffing around in their continued search for her 'uncle', Daria had had a very bad time of it.

She had just come from another session of prodding her contacts for information and, once again, absolutely nothing had come of it. No wonder she was experiencing such mounting frustration

"Mai'tac!" she growled again. There was a tinkling sound behind her, causing her to reign in her temper quickly. She turned to look towards the source of the noise. Her telekinetic powers had just broken another of the obnoxious little china figures on the mantle.

There were other issues, besides the disappearance of the Hawks. Random acts of terrorism were breaking out across Europe. Two months ago, soldiers in a group of heavily armored metal transports had staged an attack on the old Bank of England, making away with thousands of pounds worth of gold, valuables, and documents. The papers had reported that the soldiers were German, but it seemed that Germany itself flatly denied ordering the attack. In addition, not four weeks after that, a division of British soldiers had attack a zeppelin production factory in Germany, but Her Majesty's government denied ordering that attack. Other attacks had been reported in other European countries, each seeking to lay the blame for their grievances at the feet of another. The confusion was muddying the waters beyond all hope of sorting things out, and the single good bit of information she'd been able to turn up in weeks was that it would only take a tiny spark to set off a world war.

Daria rested her forehead on the cool glass of the window. There was nothing in her collected information about the attacks that even hinted at the presence of the Hawks, who had long been known for their distinctive style. Their methods involved attacks of opportunity on particularly vulnerable targets- schools, training facilities, medical establishments, or government buildings. They weren't known for targeting economic targets, not right off the bat. They preferred to stir up the terror that hitting traditionally 'off-limits' sites generated first, then they would go in to destroy economic bases in order to damage governments, limit military action, and start riots. The pressures from both inside and out would cause an ill-prepared civilization to collapse within months.

No, what she was seeing was not the Hawks' style at all. And since the Hawks didn't seem to be involved, she was about ready to call it quits. Daria wanted to go home, to see her friends (few though they might be) and her own people. Most of all, she never wanted to see a corset again.

If the Hawks have any sense, they'll have left too, she thought bitterly.

"Miss?"

Daria whirled, but it was only Danielle, the maidservant, looking apprehensive. Over the past several months, Daria's staff had become somewhat used to her displays of temper. The fact that she had not dismissed a single one of them and arranged for generous bonuses every time there was rainfall for more than three days straight had earned her their gratitude. But none of the people working for her were stupid. They had figured out that disturbing Mistress Nelson in one of her tempers ways a quick way to a grilling.

The Tau'ka composed herself. "Yes? What is it, Danielle?"

The girl shifted nervously. "There's a gentleman in the front hall, Miss. He says he wants to speak with you, if you have the time."

Daria frowned. "A gentleman? Did he give you his name?"

"He says his name is Reed, Miss."

She didn't know that name, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt to meet this gentleman. "Very well then," she said. "Have Ana Lee make up some tea if you would be so kind."

"And some of those cress sandwiches you like so much?"

"If she has any made up. Then kindly let Mr. Reed know that I will be down momentarily."

Danielle curtsied and left the room. The Tau'ka waited until she had left before gesturing. The shards of china from the unfortunate porcelain figure flew from where they lay and into the trash bin.

Reed turned out to be a pallid young man dressed in a crisp black suit, with short ginger hair that matched his goatee. Daria scrutinized him closely. His manner of dress and the way he stood put him firmly in the 'bureaucrat, clerk, or some other form of paperpusher' category.

She waved her odd visitor into a seat in the parlor. "May I help you, Mister…?" she trailed off tactfully.

"My name is Sanderson Reed," he said, his words clipped and precise. His rather colorless eyes flicked towards Danielle as she brought in the requested tray of tea and cress sandwiches. Reed's gaze was watchful, but stern. He didn't speak further until the maidservant had left and Daria had begun to pour the tea herself.

"I am a representative of Her Majesty's British Government," Reed said without preamble.

Daria frowned slightly. "What does the Government want with me?" she asked in an innocent tone as she took a sip of her tea.

"Your help, Miss Noclaf."

She choked as Reed addressed her by her real name. "Excuse me?" she said coldly, dropping all pretense of civility. The pallid paperpusher looked altogether too pleased with himself.

"Oh, we know all about you, my dear. There is another of your kind who is in contact with my superior. I was told to give you this message. 'Tek-ma-tet, Konack'ashe Dhar'ya N'claf.'" He pronounced the Goa'uld words carefully to avoid tripping over them

Daria's eyes narrowed. 'Tek-ma-tet' was a formal greeting, used to greet one who was superior to the speaker, and 'Dhar'ya N'claf' was the Goa'uld pronunciation of her own name. It was the term 'Konack'ashe' that finally made her relax slightly. It meant, loosely, 'special agent' and was only used among the Tau'ka- specifically, among the Tau'ka's Intelligence branch. The message was, as far as she could tell, legitimate. She folded her arms over her chest.

"Fine. What do you want me for?"

Reed smiled. "While I did not understand the meaning of the message, apparently you did. Good. As I understand it, you have been keeping abreast of recent events." He waited for her curt nod before continuing. "Then you know what the situation is. Nations are striking at nations- the entire Continent is a powder keg just waiting to go up in a tremendous explosion."

"This still doesn't explain why you want to pull me from my assignment, Reed."

"We, that is, my superiors, want you to join a team of unique individuals put together to combat this threat. I was also told to give you this." Reed pulled a sheet of paper from the small briefcase he carried.

Daria examined it. It wasn't a sheet of paper, she realized. It was a photograph. The setting was dimly lit, but the figure closest to the camera could be made out. The man's features were familiar, and light glinted off his eyes in a way that was only too distinctive. Abruptly she handed the picture back to Reed.

"I'm in," she told the bureaucrat.

He smiled, pleased. "Good. Do you know where the Albion Museum is? On Tottenham Road?"

She nodded.

"Good," Reed said. "Be there at four o'clock in the afternoon in two days time. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in."