Disclaimer: I don't own any of the TV shows/video games/books involved in this crossover. I don't make any profit from my work on this story.
A/N: Again, sorry for the long wait. Let me know if I should continue with this, as I'm thinking about doing a rewrite that would change things quite dramatically.
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Eden System, Operation Redemption in progress
The Relentless shuddered violently as her entire port-side lit up from the muzzle flashes of more than a hundred guns, and barely four hundred kilometres distant, a pair of upgraded Ha'taks disintegrated under the brutal mix of rail spikes, laser bursts and plasma bolts, leaving no debris larger than a human body behind.
Beside her hung the twisted wreck of a battle cruiser, its engines still glowing as they maintained pace with the rest of the fleet. Space all around the flagship was a blur of explosions, flashes of light and fighter craft moving at speeds unattainable by larger craft. Lines of energy connected ships to one another over the vast expanse of the empty battleground that space in the Eden system had become. Empty excepting those ships, and those that had been destroyed and left behind.
The Relentless fired again, savaging a small group of standard Ha'taks with her dorsal Particle Accelerator Cannons, then brought down half a dozen Al'kesh with AFM fire from her defensive batteries. All nine dreadnoughts were still active, and all were reaping just as heavy a toll on the enemy as the flagship was, and the Goa'uld had completely ignored the superdreadnoughts, a severe tactical error on their part that no human or Tau commander would have made.
Those eight ships were spamming the limited point-defence of the enemy ships with missile fire, leaving them wide open for strikes from the much more powerful warheads the smaller Allied ships carried.
Aboard the Relentless, things appeared much calmer than one would believe. The bridge was silent bar a few quietly murmured reports, and Admiral Porcini sat in his command chair, face white as a sheet and gripping his armrests so hard his hands ached, staring at the tactical display before him.
Of the ships he had arrived with, two battleships, five battle cruisers and nearly two dozen heavy and light cruisers were gone from his display. Nearly thirty thousand people had operated those ships; less than a tenth of those had been able to evacuate from them.
"Enemy battleships entering energy weapon range, sir," Captain Silas Greene reported to him, and Porcini nodded, not moving his eyes from the display.
"Code Omega from Caspian, sir!," the ensign at Communications shouted, and the bridge fell into a deathly silence as the Destroyed In Action code for the dreadnought Caspian fluttered to life on the primary TAC board. "She was hit by three enemy battleships at once, sir. Analysis suggests a new weapon has been added to the enemies arsenal."
Even as the words left the ensigns mouth, Porcini jolted forward in his restraints and the TAC board flickered violently.
"Report!," Porcini hoarsely called as he repositioned himself.
"We were hit by hyper-accelerated ion particles, sir. Definitely came from an enemy battleship, but it left no residual radiation," Catalina reported, her avatar shimmering to life on the bridge.
"New targeting solution, all enemy battleships are to take priority," Porcini ordered.
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Apophis smirked slightly as the reinforcements Anubis had sent finally revealed their advantage over Ha'taks. True, they were bigger than Ha'taks which in itself was an advantage, but they weren't armed traditionally.
Anubis had long boasted that he had invaded Tollana, killed the Tollan and taken their technologies for himself. It had scarcely been believed, but no one had wanted to risk sending ships to Tollana to discover if it was true or not. Now Apophis knew. Anubis had Tollan Ion Cannons fitted to his Kar'taks.
All the System Lords knew of Anubis' new ship class, for Anubis himself had warned that any infraction or attempts to break away from the Union would be met with them. They sported more advanced shields and thicker armour than Ha'taks, and with Ion weapons they stood a chance of even overcoming the defences of Asgard ships.
The flagship was far away from the fighting, and Apophis was less than pleased with the progress he had seen so far. The Udajeet had once again been annihilated for little gain in a short time, and the Al'kesh had suffered terrible losses so far. Over a hundred standard Ha'taks, three dozen upgraded Ha'taks and four Kar'taks and been lost, but they were wearing down the much smaller human fleet.
Of course, without adequate glider and Al'kesh numbers, his ships could be swarmed with enemy fighters, like a man being attacked by killer wasps. One or two may not do it, but a hundred would.
"Milord, I-," an underling neared Apophis' throne, bearing a report of strange sensor contacts edging closer and closer to the planet, but did not make it far. Apophis swung his hand angrily, and visible waves of energy washed over the underling, sending the young Jaffa flying across the room to impact against one of the doors leading out of the pel'tac.
"I ordered not to be disturbed," Apophis glowered at the barely conscious Jaffa, eyes glowing and voice deeper than usual. It was unfortunate for Apophis that that Jaffa had not been able to deliver his report; it might have saved the System Lord a great deal of trouble.
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Three were moving toward the planet. Two were going after the now-identified flagship. All had their own missions, and all were carrying a payload optimised for that mission.
Commander Rachel Collison was aboard the Duntroon, a refitted SOCOM cruiser that was designed specifically for high priority 'snatch and grab' missions. This was her eighth mission in command of the Duntroon, and she was determined to make it eight-for-eight successful missions.
Coasting along side the Duntroon, the Kapooka was headed for the same target as her sister: Apophis' flagship. The mission was simple; the cruisers were to bombard the flagship until its shields were down, then fire boarding torpedoes loaded with shock troopers and their specialised payloads. Once aboard, the missions success would come down to the men onboard the flagship and whether or not they could take Apophis alive. With Apophis in their custody, hopefully they would have a bargaining chip that would force the Goa'uld to accept peace talks.
If not, they could have plenty of extra Intel from a high ranking official, so to speak. In any case, Collison had to get in close first, past a pair of light cruisers that had elected to stay with the flagship, then survive whatever weapons the flagship itself had while pounding its shields flat. It was neither the most difficult nor the most simple to achieve objective she had ever been given.
"Entering energy weapon range now, ma'am. Shall I disengage the cloak?," Lieutenant Leslie Baron asked.
"Do so, and immediately launch all nukes in the tubes at those escorts. We'll use the Ion cannon and plasma cannons to deal with the flagship," Collison ordered, reciting the thoroughly thought out plan from memory. Commander Shelton Gatsby would be doing the same over on the Kapooka.
In unison, the twin ships appeared on Goa'uld sensors in full, seconds before two dozen nukes flashed into existence, covering the three thousand kilometres to their targets in a split second, and two miniature suns were born right outside of Apophis' flagship.
Before the light had faded, plasma bolts flashed from the two cruisers as they split up, moving to hit the flagship from all sides. Aquamarine bolts of energy hammered against the golden hued shields of the flagship with frequent intensity for several long moments, before the flagship was speared from both port and starboard by two streams of hyper-accelerated ion particles.
As the shields were battered and beaten, the flagship finally began firing in response, golden plasma bolts lashing out in rabid defence at the two cruisers, the smaller ships' shields reacting to the fast moving energy globes and easily repelling the attack even as the cruisers continued hammering the flagship with plasma bolts of their own.
Planet killing quantities of plasma were hurled back and forth between just these three ships, it was humbling for Collison to think of the battleline twenty light seconds away and the mass of firepower being thrown through the cold depths of space.
"Enemy shields down, launching boarding torpedoes!," Lt. Baron shouted, dragging Collison from her brief reverie in time to watch eight torpedoes fly out from the bow of her ship and crash hard into the flagship.
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The corridors of Apophis' flagship were crawling with his Kull warriors and most skilled Jaffa, so he was naturally unconcerned about the boarding action. The warriors which guarded him and his ship, however, were concerned.
Particularly when two human warriors of such incredible skill and efficiency to be dubbed 'demons' by the few who survived their attacks long enough to tell brief tales to their comrades were running rampant about the ship just minutes after the torpedoes breached the ships hull.
Rounding a corner right into a patrol made up of four Jaffa and two Kull warriors, Spartan-089 blanched behind his golden faceplate and swung his green-armoured fist on a reflex, caving in the chest piece of the nearest Jaffa and killing the warrior instantly. Another warrior swung his staff weapon like a club, hoping to catch the genetically altered super-soldier off-guard. 089 caught it with his right hand in a crushing grip, pulled on it and sent the warrior crashing into his outstretched right fist, breaking the jaw and cheekbone of the Jaffa in question.
One of the Kull warriors fired a series of plasma bolts at the Spartan's chest, only for a green blur to take the soldiers place and for all but one round to miss entirely. 089 grabbed the outstretched arm of that Kull warrior and wrenched it sharply around, swinging the warrior in a wide arc before tossing it into the last two Jaffa, knocking both off their feet.
The other Kull warrior backed up a step, firing madly at the Spartan only to have the plasma splash harmlessly against a golden band of energy that protected the Mark V Mjolnir Battle Suit and the soldier who wore it. That warrior made it a few feet more before a hail of rail spikes hammered it to a bloody smear across the floor and wall.
Three Shock Troopers, rifles shouldered, stepped around the corner, two moving to finish off the Jaffa struggling to raise their weapons and the unconscious Kull warrior, the other moving to stand beside the unmoving Spartan.
"Real impressive, sir," the trooper beside 089 said with a low whistle. "But I still don't know where we're going, so we can keep this up all day or we can try to take someone alive to guide us around."
"Were it so easy," 089 spoke, and the trooper blinked several times rapidly behind his faceplate as a surprisingly smooth, cultured voice escaped the speakers on the Spartans helmet. "I don't think they'll even let themselves be taken alive."
As he spoke, the two Jaffa lunged at the troopers and were immediately cut down, as if to prove his point.
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David Taulen sat in his cockpit, taking in long, slow breaths to keep himself calm. Almost as soon as the remaining craft from the defence forces had returned to Eden's atmosphere, they had been grounded at the Carason River Air Base, about one hundred and ninety kilometres south-west of the planets capital.
Now, with his Shrike fully repaired and rearmed, he was preparing for the inevitable order that would finally send his squadron back out to kick some Goa'uld butt. There weren't many fighters left, but if what they'd been told about the fight going on up there was true, then every little bit would be a help.
The majority of the squadrons had been split up and given overall command of a small group of fighter drones. While small and not particularly powerful, the drones were very fast and agile, and taking into consideration the fact that Goa'uld fighters lacked shields, the nose mounted gatling laser would prove deadly enough. The gunboats would have to be dealt with by the more heavily armed Shrikes and Sabres that still remained functional.
A blinking green light on his HUD and a particularly irritating beeping noise told Taulen that he had to get in the air. He goosed the throttle on the VTOL engines, rose a good fifty metres straight up, and with an ear-shattering sonic boom that was imitated dozens of times over by other fighters and the accompanying drones, took off skyward.
He passed through clouds quickly enough to set them swirling, and the active shields of his reliable fighter glowed hot as atmospheric friction began to take its toll. Despite the inertial dampeners, he was pressed back into his seat as the sky above him faded rapidly from the light blue common to most terra-compatible worlds to the star studded pitch black of space.
Now high above the world, Taulen could see far distant explosions that were probably twenty seconds old, or older. To him, it was like looking into the past. What was not looking into the past were the glaring detonations of nearby nukes erupting in amongst the small number of enemy heavy ships still in orbit.
"Okay, boys and girls, time to kick these assholes back to wherever the hell they came from!," Commander Mbutu called out over the TAC-link. "There are still a lot of fighters and gunboats in the area, and I for damn sure want 'em outta my sky before reinforcement dropships show up!"
Affirmatives rang out over the subspace frequency as Taulen eyeballed his sensor suite; a lot of death gliders had taken note of the human craft and were already moving in on them.
"Heads up, we got bogies incoming," an unfamiliar voice spoke in his ear-bud, clearly stating that other pilots had taken note of the same threat Taulen had. Tactical orders began rolling out, but for the most part Taulen ignored them, taking deep breaths. He goosed the throttle again and was pushed back in his seat as he led the charge against his enemy counterparts, the three fighter drones assigned to his craft following without hesitation.
Entering AMRAAM range, he fired off two of his precious missiles. The twin missiles streaked away from him at incredible speed, joined barely a moment later by dozens more as other fighters followed his lead. Seconds later, ball explosions marked the death of Goa'uld fighter craft and Taulen grinned tautly, adrenalin already pumping through his veins in anticipation of the coming fight.
The approach seemed to take forever and last not a moment at the same time, then all at once he was in the thick of it. Plasma washed by his craft and laser pulses split the darkness of space , and he yanked the control yoke in all directions, squeezing the firing stud over and over again, forever seeking his next kill.
A gunboat came from nowhere, the much more powerful cannon it mounted destroying a nearby Sabre and sending a pair of bolts crashing against Taulens shields. Face blank, Taulen banked sharply to starboard, advanced targeting systems already acquiring information on the gunboat and sending it to the missiles in the Shrikes belly.
With a push of a button, two more missiles shot out from the Shrike even as it turned away from the gunboat, the fire-and-forget systems having all that they needed to track down and destroy their target. The two warheads battered down the gunboats shields and left it wide open for a pair of fighter drones to drill with laser pulses. The ship didn't detonate, but the crew was doubtlessly dead judging by the melted an perforated cockpit area and surrounding hull.
"We've got three stealth cruisers in need of assistance at 94-by-86-by-17, thirteen grand away," Taulen heard another pilot say, and immediately he swung around onto the designated heading. There, off in the distance, not even distinguishable by human eyes but picked up easily enough by the zoom function of his HUD, were three large specks surrounding by pulsing coronas of energy as they fended off what were undoubtedly fighter craft.
Without hesitation, Taulen moved off at speed toward the cruisers, joined by eight other pilots and twenty or so drones. Heart pumping fast despite the calm expression on his face, Taulen had only one thought in mind: gotta keep racking up those kills.
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Michael Cortez found himself standing in a small chamber, a room which was dominated by a large throne atop a pedestal in the very centre of the room. The chamber was dark, the only light coming from a single spotlight somewhere above the throne, illuminating it and erasing any doubt anyone might have had that the throne was of a great deal of importance.
"So, how does this work?," he heard Peters ask gruffly as the other man moved past Cortez to stand right in front of the throne.
"It is quite simple, I assure you. All you must do is sit upon the throne and think; the technology operates off of the brainwaves of the being operating it," Reticent Observer answered, floating alongside Cortez and K'Ton as they too moved closer to the throne.
"So, I just think about what I want it to do, and it'll do it?," Peters asked, eyebrow raised behind his faceplate.
"That's what I said, unless my memory core has been jostled loose," the Monitor replied tartly; apparently, it didn't like repeating itself.
"Smart arse," Peters mumbled under his breath as he removed his helmet. Setting it on the floor beside him, Peters clambered up onto the throne and sat on it, putting his hands upon two palm-sized half-spheres that protruded from the ends of the armrests. "Here goes nothing."
Peters closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the image of one of the alien ships still in orbit being destroyed and hoping it was enough for the chair to work with. Nothing yet. He drew in a breath, held it and concentrated as hard as he could. Veins began popping up on his forehead and his face began to turn red as he shook slightly in the throne, willing the weapons to activate and destroy the invaders.
"Damn it," he muttered, finally giving up. He turned to look at Cortez. "Looks like it's up to you, pal."
"Yeah," Cortez said, grimacing. "Looks like."
Cortez handed the rail rifle over to K'Ton, then began making his way to the chair as Peters stepped down from the dais and retrieved his helmet. Cortez passed Peters on the way, the other man patting him quickly on the should and murmuring "Good luck" as they passed each other.
The Monitor spoke as Cortez settled into the surprisingly comfortable throne.
"The orbiting ships have begun firing on the surface at random, but several are concentrating their fire on the mountain range above us," Reticent Observer stated, and Cortez sighed in exasperation. He had to get this right, because if he didn't, the ships in orbit would probably pummel the mountain range until it collapsed on top of them.
Cortez closed his eyes, unknowingly imagining the same scene Peters had. He concentrated hard, visualising enemy ships exploding as they were struck by the unimaginable weapons that this throne commanded.
Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes, looked at the hopeful look on Peters face, the sickened one on K'Ton's and the impassive glow of the Monitor's 'eye'. He couldn't let them down. He closed his eyes again, concentrating even harder, urging the weapons to activate and smite the ships in orbit, but it was not to be.
"Fuck!," Cortez swore, jumping down from the dais in a fury. "I can't make it work either! We're fucked if they keep hitting the mountains."
"Is there anything else we can do?," Peters asked the Monitor. "Any other weapons or anything at all?"
The floor quaked beneath their feet unexpectedly, and dust fell from the high ceiling of the large room.
"No. As I said before, the only weapons with the necessary range to reach those ships were Alteran platforms," Reticent Observer answered, shaking itself from side to side to get rid of some dust that had landed on it.
"Alteran? I thought you said this was a Lantean weapon," Cortez said, moving closer to the Monitor.
"Yes," it answered. "That particular sub-species went by many different names. It is usually a matter of preference of an individual as to what they are called."
"Sub-species?," Peters muttered, and Cortez glanced at him sideways, then turned his attention back to the Monitor, opened his mouth to speak.
"Weapons platform activated," Reticent Observer said, then floated between Peters and Cortez, coming to a stop a short distance from the throne.
Cortez stared at the throne, eyes wide.
"I'll be damned," Peters whispered.
"Yeah," Cortez answered, then looked again to the Monitor.
"How interesting," the little machine said in an odd tone of voice, the gentle glow emanating from it changing to a faint orange colour as it gazed at the throne and it's occupant. K'Ton's large eyes were squeezed together tightly, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he used the ancient weapon.
A hologram erupted in front of the chair, like some kind of tactical display one might find on the bridge of a Navy warship, showing a stream of tiny projectiles leaving the surface of Eden Prime and hurtling into space.
"How interesting, indeed," the Monitor said again.
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"How the hell did they spot us?," Commander Keiji Nakamura shouted as his stealth cruiser was hammered by dozens of fighters and gunboats. The three cruiser assigned to deliver much needed reinforcements to the capital city had been under active ECM and were using the ACSIS, so in theory they should have been completely undetectable, even by each other except at short range, say within two or three hundred kilometres.
"Unknown," Ensign Kerensky stated flatly. "But there's nothing we can do about it now, sir."
"Point, ensign. Looks like we have to fight our way to the planet. Put out a request for any Allied fighter assistance, then max out our sub-lights," Nakamura said, settling into his command chair and strapping in.
The orders were carried out with quiet efficiency, and the shuddering of his vessel ceased as the shields were finally activated. Looking out the view-port, Nakamura spied a trio of Goa'uld fighters firing maniacally into the dorsal shields several hundred metres away, then breaking off as the local Laser Net defence cannons returned fire. None survived to make a second run.
"Allied fighters incoming, sir," another ensign reported. "IFF tags read as…Eden Defence Force, sir!"
"Survivors from the first battle? Or a Goa'uld trap?," Nakamura pondered aloud.
"Sir, if I may," Kerensky started, "the Goa'uld seem to be tactically inept, I'm not even sure they could come up with a trap like that on their own. IFF tags are virtually impossible to duplicate, because they are all created line-by-line by AIs, and the Goa'uld can't know enough about our planes to remove the actual chips and install them on their own craft, and I doubt they could figure out how to pilot the actual craft either. I really think they're survivors, sir."
"Let's hail them and find out," Nakamura said after a moment.
"Aye, sir," Kerensky said, fiddling with his console momentarily. "Line open and clear, sir. Whenever you're ready."
Nakamura nodded his thanks to the ensign, then started speaking.
"This is Commander Nakamura of the SOCOM cruiser Daintree to incoming EDF craft. Thunder," the commander said. There was silence for a long time over the sub-space frequency, and Nakamura was beginning to think that the Goa'uld had set up a trap when…
"This is Captain David Taulen of the EDF Strike Fighter Corps to Commander Nakamura. Flash, sir. We're friendlies, and it looks like you could use a hand," a masculine voice finally answered, and Nakamura couldn't help but smile ever so slightly.
"That we could, Captain, that we could," the commander said, then relaxed slightly in his chair and watched the tactical display as the blips of those Allied fighters closed in.
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Apophis glared disbelievingly at the rapidly cooling mass of plasma that had been four Ha'taks coming to the aid of the flagship. They had been destroyed by weapons that were as terrifying as they were recognisable: Alteran drones. The yellow, squid-like projectiles had completely ignored the shields of those ships and torn them apart from the inside out.
He had not counted on the presence of such weapons on this world, and even if he had he would never have believed that the humans would know about them and how to activate them.
"Why is that human fleet still in my space?," Apophis snarled at Rya'c. "And why are the infiltrators not dead yet?"
"My Lord," Rya'c answered, bowing his head low. "I will personally see to the destruction of the infiltrators, and the human fleet cannot hope to survive our numbers."
"Your punishment will be severe if you are wrong," Apophis stated, then waved his hand in dismissal. Rya'c bowed again, walking backwards several feet, before about-facing and stalking out of the pel'tac.
This is my chance, Rya'c thought to himself as he passed a view port that was dotted with far-distant explosions. I must speak with the infiltrators.
Rya'c moved quickly through the corridors of the mothership, walking past roving patrols of Jaffa or Kull warriors and fortified positions that included a mix of both plus staff cannon support. As he passed through, ever watchful for human warriors, he overheard conversations, all of them pertaining to the ambitious attack on the mothership.
"…nothing could stop them…"
"…like some kind of demon, it killed everyone…"
"…even the mighty Kull warriors fell before them…"
Everywhere he went, it was always the same. Fear was spreading through the ship quickly as rumours of unstoppable green monsters infected the hearts and minds of the Jaffa who sought to defend their ship and protect their god.
The humans, it seemed, where ever full of surprises. The further Rya'c moved from the pel'tac and Apophis, the fewer Jaffa there were to be seen. After perhaps ten minutes or so of making his way through a series of corridors and cross-sections, Rya'c came to a small storage chamber. The door was dented and scorched, the wall around it scored by plasma and projectiles, and one unusual imprint that looked very much like some one had punched the wall. But that was impossible, the trinium-naquadah composite that the walls were made from was far too resilient for something like that.
Hefting his staff weapon experimentally, Rya'c looked cautiously about the corridor, then moved closer to the door, putting his ear up against it to try and hear what was going on on the other side. He heard shouting, the firing of staff weapons and the unfamiliar whine of human weaponry, then nothing.
The door was ruined, no way for Rya'c to pass through it from this side, so he had to find a way into the storage chamber or to the other corridor the room opened up into if he wanted to speak with the humans.
With a clear objective in mind, Rya'c turned from the door and made his way further down the corridor, headed for a cross-section that would hopefully lead to the next corridor over. He turned the corner calmly, and never even saw it coming.
A grey fist flashed from around the corner, slamming into the side of Rya'c's head and sending him spinning away, the grip on his staff weapon loosening, sending the long weapon skittering across the floor.
"Don't move, dumbass," a gruff voice said from behind him, and Rya'c turned around, rubbing his jaw, to see two grey-armoured humans pointing unusual-looking weapons at him. Reluctantly, Rya'c held his hands out to his side to show he presented no threat.
One of the humans took two quick steps forward. "On your knees pal, and put your hands on your head."
Seeing no other choice, Rya'c complied. He eyed them warily, unsure of how to proceed. He had been so set on finding the humans and speaking with them, but now that he was confronted with them, he had no idea what to say.
The two humans were completely silent, just standing there, one with his weapon trained on Rya'c, the other carefully scanning the surrounding corridors for signs of danger. Suddenly, from somewhere not too far away, Rya'c heard staff fire and screaming erupt.
One scream in particular carried on for some time, before being cut off abruptly. Rya'c winced, and looked around at the other corridors branching off from the intersection. The corridor to his immediate left was darkened, as though something had damage the light emitting diodes that generally lit the path aboard most Goa'uld ships.
Around the corner of that corridor, appeared two more humans, and one giant green monster with a single golden eye. Rya'c swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the monster, and whispered the word 'demon' quietly to himself. The humans and the accompanying monster came to a halt a short distance from where Rya'c was being held at gunpoint, and the two humans that had captured him seemed to be carrying a silent conversation with the new arrivals.
After a few short moments, the monster turned to face Rya'c, the golden eye capturing his reflection.
"Who are you, and how do we access the bridge?," a deep, gravely voice came from the monster, and Rya'c blinked several times rapidly in surprise.
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A/N: Okay, so I know that for my comeback chapter, this wasn't all that impressive, but I wrote basically the whole thing in the last couple of days while I had some downtime.
I have begun working on Part Three of this long-ass chapter, so hopefully I won't leave you hanging for another four months before it is posted. I have also started on the next chapter involving the Magnus and all the folks of the Twelve Colonies, so I'll leave it up to all of you as to which one is posted next, if you wish for me to continue.
Let me know what you all think or at least let me know if there is anyone out there still interested in this fic.
