Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate: Sg-1, Stargate: Atlantis or any other television programs, video games, books or movies used in the telling of this story. I make no money off of this work of fiction, and would rather not be sued anytime soon as I make very little money and need it to pay the bills, buy food and pay for the ridiculous cost of fuel.

To Elaur: Thanks for the review, glad you like the story so far. As far as your suggestions go, I was intending to add in a little Star Wars at some point, just wasn't sure which era to go with or how I could make it work, but I'll find a way. As for the Minbari, I'm afraid I don't know enough about them to make them viable yet, it's been a long time since I saw Babylon 5 (movies or TV series), but I'll see what I can do.

To Ogi: Thank you. Glad you liked the battle and my AU history. Sadly, it seems that in order for a story like this to work properly, there has to be at least some politics involved, something I wish I could avoid but can't, I'm afraid. Hopefully I should have the Covenant making their debut in the next chapter.

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March 12th, 2187

Assaultech Industries Headquarters

Michael Cortez's Office

As the head of the Theoretical Energy Manipulation Division at the sector headquarters of the largest weapons research company in existence, it was Michael Cortez's job to ensure that all of the personnel were evacuated before he himself had to leave. It was also his job to make copies of all the advanced research underway at the facility and to destroy the originals, to ensure that none of the new weapons systems, shield generators or personal combat armour designs fell into the invaders hands.

For Cortez, his day had been getting exponentially worse since the moment he woke up to discover that he had been burgled during the night, and the very expensive engagement ring that he had intended to give to his girlfriend of three years at dinner on Saturday night had been stolen, along with a 150 year old gold watch that had belonged to his great-grandfather.

Now, his home was being invaded by religious aliens and he was to be one of the last people to get to a bunker. With what seemed like the thousandth sigh to escape his lips in the past hour, Cortez exchanged another full data crystal with an empty one and continued the upload. Each crystal was able to contain ten terabytes of information, and he had nine full and six more to go, and that was just his department. There were a half dozen other departments in the building, each one containing just as much vital information as his own.

At thirty four, he was young for his position, but lead it with a maturity not often seen, even in the older division heads. Five feet and ten inches tall, with dark brown hair that extended to just below his ears and was forever getting into his eyes, themselves also dark brown, and with the body of a professional soldier, he cut an impressive figure.

It made sense that he would have such a well maintained physique, considering he joined the Marine Corps at eighteen to pay for his college tuition, and the strict diet and training regimen of humanity's finest had stuck with him, even after ten years of no longer being in the service.

Cortez was alone in the building, aside from the eight man Marine escort waiting in the lobby and two other division heads, and to say that he was eager to leave would be an understatement of epic proportions. It wasn't that he was worried for his life, although he was, so much as he was fearful for the thirty one year old woman who had captured his heart, one Emily Griffin.

His anxiety increased tenfold as an ear shattering boom reverberated through the building and an impressive cloud of debris and molten earth was flung high into the air from a location roughly six city blocks away, evidence of orbital bombardment.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, snapping his head back around to face the computer station he was working at. "Come on you piece of shit, hurry up!"

With a soft beep, the computer ejected the now-full data crystal, and Cortez quickly put it with the other full ones, putting another empty in its place. He returned his attention to the view out the window, the late night air now aglow with the fires that the orbital bombardment had set off.

High above the city, in orbit, the skies were ravaged with explosions, indicating that there had to be at least some human ships or defence platforms still in the fight. Cortez continued to watch as several streaks of light headed toward the planet from orbit at phenomenal speed, followed by many more. In all, he estimated perhaps fifty or so of these 'falling stars' had appeared before no more came.

Whatever the streaks were, it was clear that they were not blasts from the high-powered plasma weapons the enemy used, nor were they any other kind of weapon that Cortez had seen before. So engrossed was he in the events happening above, that he never noticed a bony hand reach out from the shadows of his rather large office, grasping for his shoulder.

The hand came down on his right shoulder, and with a yelp of fright, Cortez spun, grabbing the hand and yanking with all his considerable might, dragging the offender up close. In a lightning-quick series of movements, he pushed back on the arm that he now held and swung in behind his would-be attacker, pulling it up at a sharp angle behind the other mans back and grabbing his throat from behind with his left hand, Just as he began applying pressure, preparing to snap the mans neck, a shout from behind distracted him.

"Mikey, no!," the voice said, and Cortez spun, still grasping his assailant, to face the third person now in his office. "Take it easy man, it's just me and K'Ton!"

The other man was Peter Smidts, head of the Nanotechnology Division, and after hearing what the other human had said, he realised that the person he had very nearly killed was in fact K'Ton, the Tau who head up the Advanced Genetics and Engineering Division. Instantly, Cortez released his friend and adopted a sheepish expression.

"Sorry, man. I guess I'm just a little jumpy," Cortez offered an apology, his voice quiet as he contemplated the fact that he had very nearly killed one of his closest friends. For his part, K'Ton didn't seem overly phased.

"It is not a problem, Michael. Perfectly understandable, considering I approached you whilst your attention was elsewhere, amidst an invasion of all things," K'Ton said, if anything sounding even more apologetic than Cortez had.

"Listen, K'Ton and I just finished up with our departments, and everyone else is gone already. We were just stopping by to see if you needed any help," Smidts stated, glancing nervously out of Cortez's window. As the other man spoke, Cortez Once again exchanged a full crystal for an empty one.

"No thanks, I think I've got it covered. You guys should head on, get to a bunker before the shit really hist the fan," Cortez replied, turning his attention once more to the sky outside. There were no more explosions, and seeing as no more shots had been fired into the city, he assumed that that one shot was an accident, and the aliens intended to take the city - maybe even the whole colony - intact. Which meant they would be landing troops.

"No, Michael. I will stay with you until you are ready to leave," K'Ton said firmly, clearly not willing to leave his friend behind. Smidts nodded his agreement instantly. Although Cortez didn't particularly want to be completely alone at the moment, he also didn't want anyone risking their lives for his sake.

"I don't think -," Cortez's answer was cut off as another earth shattering boom resonated through the air, and behind him, out the window, an immense pressure wave shattered every window on every building within just over three kilometres of the impact sight of an overcharged staff cannon shot from one of the Ha'taks in orbit. The three men inside Cortez's office had barely enough time to drop to the floor behind Cortez's desk as the supposedly shatter-proof glass window exploded into a million pieces.

As the echoing boom died down, Cortez and his two companions slowly stood from behind the ravaged desk. The office was a ruin, the computer totalled, the plush chair shredded, even the small fern Cortez kept in the corner was decimated.

"I think that's our queue to leave," Smidts said, eyes wide as he surveyed the damage both within the office and the rest of the city outside. Cortez scooped up the data crystal case, his stomach dropping as he realized he would not be able to extract all the files from the central computer now that there was practically nothing left of it.

The case the crystals were contained in was known to many as the 'Black Box'. It was a black suitcase, lined with synthetic diamond and an ultra strong, and incredibly rare, metal called Duranium. Rail gun rounds couldn't even scratch it, laser and plasma weapons did little more than make black scorch marks on its surface, it was completely invulnerable to any kind of radiation and was able to withstand more than 40 thousand pounds per square inch of pressure.

The Box itself was designed to be able to withstand sustained orbital bombardments. When it came to protecting its scientific secrets, Assaultech Industries was willing to go to just about any length. So, while the already full crystals were completely safe, the ones that had yet to be filled and the one already in the computer were destroyed completely beyond recovery.

"Right," Cortez said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

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March 13th, 1287

1.2 Parsecs From Eden System

Camden Sector Fleet, Command Dreadnought Relentless

The Relentless and the 240 other ships that made up the Camden Sector Fleet had been sitting just outside of the Eden system for nearly a day now, and tensions were running high among all one hundred thousand-odd Naval personnel that crewed the ships.

Once word of the failure of the Orbital Defence Grid and the local defence forces to maintain orbital superiority had reached HICOM, the Sector Fleet had been ordered to an all-stop. The CSF was originally going to emerge from hyperspace behind the invasion force, and sandwich the ships between the ODGs guns and the fleets.

With the ODG out of commission, the fleet had been forced to halt their advance and wait for the next four days for reinforcements from the TRN 12th fleet and the UNSC 2nd fleet. In the meantime, the primary hyperspace routes into and out of Eden were being prowled by Wolf Packs of Darden-class destroyers, nimble warships designed specifically to take on much larger ships, equipped with a spinal Particle Accelerator Cannon each and working in groups of four.

Powerless now to do anything but follow his orders, Rear Admiral Artemis Porcini had spent the majority of the previous twenty four hours going over the hourly updates on the situation in Eden, delivered via burst communication from a number of Recon Drones that the fleet ha launched upon arriving at their current coordinates.

The news, as was to be expected, was grim. There was evidence of orbital bombardment in the three major cities, First City, the capitol, and Harper and Julius, with Julius having taken the brunt of the fire. Estimated casualties were in the millions, and were it not for the bunkers, that estimate would have been much higher. To top it all off, the enemy had had reinforcements trickling in ever since taking orbit, between three and eight ships arriving every half hour.

With no other recourse, Porcini continued doing what he had been doing, drawing up plans for a three-pronged assault and praying that the reinforcements were early.

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March 13th, 2187

Location Unknown

UNSC SOCOM Stealth Cruiser Magnus

Repairs to the Magnus were coming along nicely, nearly 20 percent ahead of schedule in fact, and morale was surprisingly high. The Magnus' crew had been informed of their situation, and of Siobhan's fairly low estimation of their chances of getting back to Earth or Tau territories in their lifetime. The fact was that the Magnus was hopelessly lost.

Sure the crew had the coordinates for every colony in Allied territory, but they did them no good without their current coordinates in relation to the colonies. This was one of the main reasons why space exploration was slow and methodical; in order to make long range trips through hyperspace, the inter-dimensional space-time rift that made Faster-Than-Light travel possible, the exploring party had to have 'home' coordinates, the coordinates in relation to other known points of interest, and the 'destination' coordinates, the coordinates in relation to the home coordinates and any other given point.

It was a lengthy process, one that human minds, as they were, were ill suited for. Even the most advanced and sophisticated SAIs (Sentient Artificial Intelligences, Siobhan for reference) had tremendous difficulty calculating an accurate hyperspace jump without known 'home' coordinates.

There was one good thing about their situation, however, and that was that it looked like they weren't completely alone. The anomalous readings within the nearby Ionic Nebula that had been assumed to be a planetary body had now been confirmed to actually be a large terrestrial plant. Not only was the plant habitable, but it also appeared to be inhabited by what looked like the beginnings of a small colony.

Even better, from what the RDs were able to ascertain, the colonists were human. One small group of humans on a backwater planet outside of known space had not been much of a surprise; it had long been theorised that the Progenitors may have taken small groups of humans throughout history and transplanted them to other worlds to see how they adapted and grew as a society. Even the very human-like Goa'uld had not been as much of a surprise for the veterans-to-the-strange as one would think. Human remains had been discovered on worlds where no human, as far as Earth history was concerned, had ever been before.

But this was remarkable. Humans so far from Earth that they were almost in another galaxy entirely, not to mention the incredible odds of the Magnus literally stumbling into a system inhabited by them. There was no mistaking that they were human, either. The Goa'uld had different life signatures to average humans, and these people did too, but not nearly on the level of the Goa'uld. In this case, it was more akin to genetic drift than being a part of a completely different species.

And so here they were, the highest ranking officers on the Magnus, trying to decide exactly what they should do about this new predicament: initiate contact and hope for the best, or steer clear and hope that Siobhan was able to get them home sometime in the next decade. Both propositions had their fair share of risk involved.

"The facts are this, gentlemen," Siobhan stated, her normally clear and highly detailed holographic 'body' now glowing a faint blue, lines of coding running through her form as she accessed and analysed any number of programs while she ran diagnostics on the Magnus' internal systems and gave the briefing at the same time. "We may be as far as one-to-three kilo parsecs from known space at the moment. We do not have long range communications, and even if we did, it would take years for anything we might send to reach anyone. We are currently operating at 63 percent nominal combat capacity. And we are less than a parsec from a settlement of unknown humans."

The room, containing just five people, Chief of Engineering Marcus Powell, Commander Albert Burrows, Sergeant Major James Allen (SOCOM), Colonel Thomas Locitz (Marine Corps) and Elder T'Mak (TRN Liaison and SFC), was completely silent as the occupants waited for their AI companion to finish her opening statements.

"Other than the fact that they are human and that they use, as far as we can tell, archaic technologies, we know nothing about the people that chose this system's only planetary body on which to settle," Siobhan paused a moment to clear her throat, something which wasn't necessary but which she found helped humans relate to her more easily. "As far as making contact with them goes, I'm open to suggestions."

The five breathing occupants all looked around at each other, seemingly trying to gauge each others reactions and see who would be most likely to have an idea that would be pertinent to the situation at hand. Colonel Locitz surprised everyone, himself included, when he spoke.

"I say we contact them when the Magnus is at better than 75 percent combat functionality, then offer a trade. Whatever they might need from us in exchange for local star charts," the man said, his voice grizzled from decades of smoking cigars and barking orders.

"And some non-irradiated food, most of our stores took a beating during our transition here," Powell added, scratching his slightly hawkish nose. "We've got about three months supply left, which sounds like a lot, but considering we were loaded up with consumables to last us four times that long, it means we're in a bad way if we're really stuck here indefinitely."

Siobhan nodded thoughtfully, another unnecessary task, and turned her attention back to Commander Burrows.

"It's a solid plan, sir. At 75 percent or higher combat functionality, I believe we would be able to stave off the two purpose-built warships the drones identified long enough to make an escape to hyperspace if things turned nasty, and if we had reliable star charts, the chances that I would be able to calculate an accurate trajectory back to Allied territory would increase by thirty-three-point-three-nine percent."

"Then we are agreed. Continue with the repairs until we are adequately able to defend ourselves if they turn out to be hostile, then make contact and hope they have accurate star charts for us," Burrows stated, leaning back in his comfortable synthetic leather chair. There were nods all around the table. A thirty three percent increase in their chances was better than nothing, and pushed their total chance of success up to just over forty five percent.

"If you want to make face-to-face contact with them, I can have a Shock Trooper unit escorting you," Colonel Locitz said.

"We don't want to scare the crap out of them, Tom," Burrows replied. "James, would your team be willing to be my escort should we attempt such contact?"

Locitz frowned, looking like he wanted to say something, then changed his mind when he realized the Commander was right. They had no idea how these new people would react to two-and-a-half metres and 320 kilograms of power-armoured Shock trooper, let alone an eight man unit of the venerable soldiers.

"We're ready for whatever you need us for, sir," the Spectre replied with absolute conviction. Burrows nodded to the other man, turned to Powell and was about to ask a question regarding the performance of the Nano-Fabricators, when a soft musical chime echoed through the room and a familiar voice spoke.

"Commander Burrows, sir, I'm sorry to interrupt the meeting, but you requested to be notified if anything unusual showed up on sensors." It was Lee Mercer, the young Lt. that had roused Burrows from his dream shortly after the cataclysmic hyperspace transition that dumped them in the middle of the unknown regions of space to the galactic west of Allied territories.

Burrows jabbed his index finger onto the comm. button built into the meeting room table.

"It's fine, lieutenant, what is it you've got for me?"

There was silence for a short time on the other end, then, "I'm not sure, sir. It looks like a hyperspace shadow, but it's moving nearly ten times faster than any hyper-capable vessel I've seen before. I think you and Siobhan had better take a look, sir."

The end of that sentence was met with shocked silence from everyone in the room, even Siobhan looked genuinely unsettled, something that was certainly possibly given the near-perfect Emotion Algorithms an SAI was gifted with at 'birth'. Ten times faster than anything on records. That should have been impossible, considering that even in hyperspace there were limits as to a ships top speed, and the fastest Allied vessels were capable of just over 80 percent top hyper speed.

"Siobhan, get to the bridge and set Condition One throughout the ship, status Combat Alert Alpha," Burrows ordered, the AI instantly disappearing and reappearing a nano-second later on the bridge. Almost as soon as she was gone, klaxons began blaring throughout the ship and the 900-plus people aboard scurried to their battle stations.

Even as Burrows hurried out of the room and broke into a run for the bridge, he could hear Colonel Locitz barking orders to counter-boarding teams and Marine units and COE Powell speaking a little more calmly into his wrist-communicator, making sure the damage control and crisis response teams knew their places. Burrows charged past a pair of power-armoured Marines bustling down the corridor to their defence positions, then took a hard left.

He followed the new corridor for just over sixty metres, past an armoury and a small group of engineers hastily plasma-welding battle plating to the walls, past an automated defence drone, hovering on its anti-gravity repulsers and tracking its twin-linked plasma cannon along the length of the corridor, then around a Tau technician working on an atmosphere control panel and around another corner, turning right this time.

Burrows was now as close to the outer hull as one could be and still be on the ship. He manoeuvred his way around gunnery crews as they moved to the three rail guns positioned along the ninety metres of corridor, sparing a glance to the auto-loading mechanisms as the slotted fresh fifty-round magazines of 220mm High-Explosive Anti-Ship rail gun rounds. Finally, he made it to the end of the corridor, turned left and dashed the last forty metres that would take him to an elevator that took him to deck thirty-one, right below the bridge. From there, he would need to cross another forty metres of corridor before reaching the smaller lift that would deposit him on the bridge.

When finally he arrived at his destination, he found his bridge-crew hard at work, making final checks for the auto-targeting Laser Net defence grid and heavy laser cannons, completely ignoring his presence save for Lieutenant Mercer, who immediately stepped away from the control console and saluted his CO. All in all, the trip from Briefing Room Three to the bridge had taken just over forty seconds, which would have been exceptional for a non-augmented human, but for a military man with all the 'upgrades' available, it was passable.

"What's the status of the object, Lt.?," Burrows asked, barely even panting.

"We detected the object moving at super-luminal speeds just over sixty seconds ago on our extreme range sensors, sir. Since then, the object has moved just over half a light-year, moving towards the planet hidden in the nebula," Mercer dutifully responded, sparing a nervous glance at the console that indicated the movement of the object.

"At that speed, it'll reach the planet in 92 seconds, sir," Siobhan added in her calculations. "Given the fairly primitive nature of the vessels orbiting the planet, and considering the enormous power and the technology required to move at such speeds, I'm assuming the object is not human in origin. It could be a hostile ship that intends to destroy the humans."

"If that's the case, sir, then I think we have no choice but to intervene if we want to gain the favour of the locals," Mercer said, watching his commanders face closely for any hint of emotion. There was none.

"If we do that, Lt., it places this ship and everyone aboard it at risk," Burrows replied tersely. He wasn't about to kill everyone on the Magnus just to try and save somebody that, for all he knew, would just as soon blow them out of the sky as look at them, or were possibly even allied with whomever or whatever was on the ship heading for the planet. If it was a ship at all.

"Sir, if we don't do something, then we're all dead anyway, because there is no way I'll be able to plot an even remotely accurate long range jump to get us home if those people are killed," Siobhan said. She didn't want to put her human comrades at risk any more than the commander did, but she also knew that without local star charts, she would be only able to make thirty light-year jumps at most without a huge miscalculation that could end with them emerging into a sun.

Something flickered in the commanders eyes, and Mercer knew that they had swayed him. Better to die quickly and on your feet than spending the rest of your life trapped onboard a ship to die of starvation, dehydration or even old age.

"Siobhan," Burrows said with deceptive calm.

"Sir?"

"Plot the jump."

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The cruiser glided easily through the slip-stream, its shields and weapons deactivated, passive sensors scanning the swirling multi-coloured eddies of the 11th dimension. The fleet from which it had travelled had detected the presence of food in much larger quantities than had been seen in one place for nearly 400 years. Better still, from what the immensely powerful sensors of the super-dreadnought that commanded the fleet had been able to determine, there were even ships present, meaning there would be at least some sport to be had for the hunter-gatherers.

The fleet had been moving away from home for a long time, ever since the Unending Wars had been lost centuries ago and the fleet was forced to take as many ships and people as it could and search for a new home, one far away from the Dark Ones that had ended the greatest stellar empire the galaxy had ever seen.

With so much fresh food, they would be able to feed the impoverished citizens of the city-ships that the fleet now protected. Thos aboard the cruiser could barely wait, their stomachs howling for the delight of finally tasting real food again. Soon, they would have all that was needed to keep their rations afloat. Very soon.

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March 13th, 2187, That Same Time

High Command, Epsilon Eridani System, High Orbit of planet Bastion

Orbital Command Facility Imperial

After spending 48 hours in quarantine to ensure there were no communicable diseases either the Allies or his group could transfer to one another, Selmak of the Tok'ra, and his two companions from the fledgling Free Jaffa Nation, were finally freed from the Quarantine Zone and escorted to a large and somewhat plush (for a military installation) briefing room.

The trio were greeted by a small group of individuals, humans in a variety of uniforms with decorative ribbons and pieces of some kind of precious metals, and bald, large eyed and well built aliens that reminded Selmak of over-sized Asgard, dressed in ceremonial robes.

None of them looked particularly pleased to see the three men, something which Selmak put down to the many physical similarities between himself and a Goa'uld, and of course the Jaffa. From what he had heard before leaving on this diplomatic mission, Apophis was invading a human world, so Selmak could hardly blame the assembled dignitaries in the room for the hostile looks he was receiving.

One particularly menacing-looking human leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the large wooden table that dominated the room, and looked Selmak square in the eye.

"We have a great deal to discuss, you and I," the human stated in a voice that brooked no argument. Selmak could not help but feel intimidated by the large man.

This may be unpleasant…

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A/N: Sorry for the shorter-than-usual update, but I've got quite a lot on my plate at the moment and I wanted to get the set up for the next chapter done. Speaking of which, the next chapter will be dealing with the ground assault on Eden Prime, the interrogation of Selmak and his Jaffa buddies, what the scouting party at P3Y-737 turned up, the revelation of just who the humans orbiting the planet in the Ionic Nebula are and who wants to eat them, and the Covenant and the Asgard both make themselves known in a rather spectacular fashion.

It'll also reveal what Baal is up to when it comes to securing his position as Supreme System Lord, and how he plans to overcome Anubis, who sent the two Ha'taks to P3Y-737, and the Allies will be encountering a new Goa'uld warship.