The C-130 cargo plane banked as it curved across the white bleached landscape below towards the other side of the Atlantic. Daniel was curled up in a corner reading a dusty tome. Sam was asleep in her seat, and Jack was staring out the window unseeing. Sitting in uncomfortable flip down seats in the holds of aircraft on the way to the next mission was something Jack thought he had left behind when he left Black Ops and joined the SGC. Stargates were slightly more immediate form of transport, although possibly slightly more disconcerting.
Teal'c ducked under a cable and joined Jack in the seats next to the window. For a while they sat in companionable silence, before Teal'c spoke up.
"O'Neill, I wish to know what we might be facing on this mission. Are these 'Brits' a hostile enemy?"
"Er... not exactly, no. They're our allies in many things on Earth, but not all the time. You see, we originally America was founded by a group of settlers who left Britain and then split off by declaring independence."
"I see," Teal'c replied – although he didn't really. Tau'ri politics still confused him, and the many films he watched were often not the best guide to the real world.
"Ah, they're great guys really. Bit of an obsession with tea, always complaining about the weather, and they don't play hockey on ice, but other than that, good people to work with. You'd have to ask Daniel more about the history, though."
Teal'c slowly nodded. He decided to refrain from asking why O'Neill felt so strongly about hockey being played on ice.
Sam was arising from sleep as the plane touched down on the wet runway and braked to a stop. She was then very rudely awakened by a voice in her ear.
"Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty! Rise and shine!" said the Colonel, waving his hand in front of her face.
"Sir... could you keep it down, please?" sighed Carter.
"Let me think.. Nope! We've got places to be, and we need that brain of yours to work the science bit out."
As the plane taxied to a stop, the rear ramp screeched and descended towards the ground, gradually revealing the dark, wet and cold scene before them. The Hercules had parked next to a hanger which had the doors partially open, spilling light across the tarmac and illuminating the shadowy shapes of fighter jets parked up. Behind they could see the control tower, and behind that, a flagpole carrying both the RAF flag and the Union Flag. In front of the jets, however, were two drab olive trucks, with a car parked up between them. As the ramp descended further, several figures were revealed. The man who looked like he was in charge stepped forward and onto the ramp as it hit the ground. As the man came into the light cast by the aircraft, SG-1 saw a balding, grey haired man wearing a blue uniform and a plastic jacket. He was wearing a peaked cap and was obviously an officer. The Colonel saluted, although he wasn't sure if he outranked the man or not – he could only see a pattern of blue lines on the front of the jacket which he presumed was some sort of rank.
"Colonel O'Neill? I'm Group Captain Clayton. I'm here to brief you on the situation fully on the way to Porton Down – I presume that's all your kit in the bags?" he asked, pointing at the selection of black holdalls strapped down in the hold, now being unstrapped by a man and a women in combat uniform.
"Yep, that's all our stuff. And the plane, that's ours. But I guess you won't want to carry that with us, Captain?" the Colonel joked. The 'Captain' simply raised his eyebrows at the O'Neill sense of humour and gestured that they should follow him into the waiting car. As he turned he seemed to notice that the large mass in the corner, was not, in fact, part of the wall, but a person, some sort of gold tattoo on his forehead. It was all the man could do not to stare as the huge man maneuvered into his seat.
Once they were all settled the vehicles began to move off the tarmac towards the road. They were being driven by another man in combat uniform, with an armed guard in the front seat. SG-1 and Clayton crammed into the back. Clayton took off his plastic jacket( making a lot of noise, reminiscent of a crisp packet, or so Jack thought – no good for stealth.)
"So...SG-1? The situation is like this. We have a lab at Porton Down. It's underground, high security, and so on. Or so we thought. About 24 hours ago, an... aircraft – of some kind, looked like a small pyramid – just appeared out of thin air over the sea. Or, that's what radar are telling us it did, anyway. Just waltzed it's way through all the air defences like they weren't there, and hovered over the lab. It stayed for about 10 minutes, then... vanished. I just can't believe it..." he trailed off, running his hands through his thinning hair and looking out the window as they passed the gate of the airbase and onto the main road.
"When we got inside the lab, it was chaos. Blood everywhere, bodies strewn over the floor... I had several good friends die in there. They all seemed to have died of severe burn wounds, possibly from some sort of weapon. They'd obviously been trying to get into the main lab, and they took most of the things we had in there. We were testing some sort of energy generation device – you'll have to ask the scientists exactly what. When we did a headcount, the chief scientist, his assistant, and 3 guards were missing,"
"Hang on second," interrupted Daniel. "We were told only two people were taken."
"No, five, I'm afraid. The security tapes have been blanked, so we really have no idea what happened in there – or how anyone even got in there! I'm told you're some sort of team that might know what's going on." Looking at the four people in the car in front of him, Clayton was not entirely sure they fitted the normal definition of the word 'team'. There was the two USAF officers, although both of them seemed a bit different to the normal cocky flyboys he'd met from America. There was the bespectacled and scruffy haired man in the seat beside them, who certainly did not look military. And then there was the huge man in the seat behind them. There was almost something...otherworldly about him.
"There's no easy way to say this, but bluntly, we're out of our depth. We need your help – or so I'm told. Really, we have no idea what's going on. The top brass have been muttering about gateways or something, and the ship.. well, it was like nothing I've ever seen. It would be awfully good if you could help out."
Sam shifted in her seat and sighed. "Well, sir, I think we'd better give you a little briefing of our own first, before we start..."
Jack smiled internally. There was only one thing that was better than revealing the existence of the Stargate – and that was watching people seeing it dial for the first time. That never got old.