The Earth Defence Force and the Stargate
by Fred Herriot
Based on Urusei Yatsura, created by Takahashi Rumiko; Ikkitōsen, created by Shiozaki Yūji; and Stargate SG-1, created by Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner.
Including characters/situations from Koihime Musō, created by BaseSon; Top Gun, created by Ehud Yonay, Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr.; and Under Siege, created by J.F. Lawton and Andrew Davis.
This is a sequel to Phoenix From the Ashes. This story also contains characters and situations from the fanfic series Urusei Yatsura - The Senior Year, created by Mike Smith and Fred Herriot.
WRITER'S PREFACE: While I never mentioned anything about the Stargate system in Phoenix From The Ashes, in my Restart Deluge - The Emperor's Army storyline at the Anime Addventure (which did inspire much of the events in the main story), I did include the Stargate SG-1 characters and their situation vis-à-vis the Goa'uld in some of the episodes. This side story was directly inspired by that older storyline. This side story begins on the first Friday in September of 2010, which puts it eight weeks after the return of the Task Force to Yaminokuni as shown in Part 48 of the main story.
I decided to separate this story from Phoenix From The Ashes due to the heavy influence of the Stargate universe in this storyline.
As always, writer's notes will appear at the end of the story text.
H.M.C.S. Haida, in geo-synchronous orbit over Welland, Ontario . . .
"So they're settling in well?"
"As well as could be expected for semi-trained - yet incredibly eager! - reservists coming in from all over the country to help augment the ship's company now that all the plank owners are off doing their BMQ and BMOQ over in sunny Saint-Jean," Chief Petty Officer 1st Class Jacques Beaulieu stated as he sat down in one of the visitor's chairs in the captain's personal office, located on the senior officers' quarters level in the forward superstructure of the Canadian starship; atop his own commanding officer, the wing commander of 21 Space Wing and the commanding officer of the 1st Battalion of the Regiment of Canadian Guards would have quarters at this level, serviced by a special pantry section of the ship's team of wardroom stewards.
"All the reserve division COs pass on their apologies for not being able to cram in more standard training before they got called up here, by the way," Commander David Choquette, Haida's executive officer - she had not sailed with such on the mission to Yaminokuni, which had stunned the former commandant of the Canadian Forces Fleet School in Halifax - then added. "But given how swelled up they are with new recruits that they need to process and all that - now that Parliament's pretty much given its nod to allowing manning ceilings to be totally taken off - they'll be more than busy running BMQs, BMOQs and naval environmental training courses non-stop to get them ready enough to face trades training. Once THAT happens, folks in Québec City and elsewhere are going to be swamped. Other facilities across the country won't escape it either." A shake of the head. "This must have been what the start of World War Two was like."
"Well, fortunately, Avalonian recruits do have a certain advantage Terran recruits don't possess," the commanding officer of the Dominion's first true starship then mused. "Sometimes, their telepathy and empathy really intimidate me, but right now, it's saving millions of man-hours and training dollars in getting people prepped to do their jobs." At this, Captain (Navy) Brian Gamblin chuckled. "Thank God they don't want to take it all away from us. This IS our solar system after all; we've got the inherent right to defend it from all comers. They're just helping us along."
"A lot different from all the sci-fi shows about people infiltrating us and invading us," Beaulieu stated. "Like V, Battlestar Galactica and the rest . . . "
"It does remind me of one show, though," Choquette mused.
"What's that, Dave?" Gamblin asked.
"Alien Nation. Made by the same man who created the original V series back in the 1980s. Story of alien refugees who fled to Earth after being enslaved by another race." The executive officer then laughed. "Damn! It's exactly like that!"
"Were they able to interbreed with us, sir?" the coxswain asked.
Choquette blinked, and then he shook his head. "Can't remember."
"Well, in this case, we CAN and ARE starting to intermingle with the alien refugees now living with us. In fact, they're encouraging it since it'll give the human race as a whole a massive boost evolutionally to something most experts say we wouldn't have reached for thousands of years naturally," Gamblin stated before sipping his coffee; it was early in the forenoon watch and it was a quiet Friday for the newest ship in the Canadian Navy as she worked up to full operational status, which would probably be achieved in two years' time. Of course, the neighbouring alien races would have to be party to that plan. So far, the potential hostile races - the Urusians and the Ipraedies chief amongst them, with the Niphentaxians a distant third - had been very nice and quiet in the wake of the Avalonian liberation. No doubt, the potential combined threat of the Noukiites, the Seifukusu Dominion AND the Avalonians with all their advanced technology were keeping the more ambitious planners in Onishuto and Ipraedos City from getting too ambitious. And given the amount of destruction the liberation had caused the Niphentaxians - along with the final downfall of the "One True Faith" - any hostile response from Lumukyō (which, rumour had it, might go back to its former name "New Hollywood" soon) was next to impossible. "Amazing that even the most conservative groups on the planet have been welcoming to the Avalonians."
"Sir, it's easy," Beaulieu stated. "The Avalonians are freakin' designer clones! You can make them with any skin colour, program them to speak any language and they could - within reason - fit it anywhere on the planet. Heck, groups of them went out to find all the critically-threatened language and social groups like the Ainu in Japan almost within a week of their coming here en masse! Of course people are going to want them around. They're the most unprejudiced people you'll ever meet and they WANT to do everything they can to help us better ourselves as a people."
"Well, they DO have their prejudices, Chief," Choquette reminded him.
"Aye, sir, that's true. But the prejudices are actually quite humane and can easily be accepted by most folks. Treating kids with decency and ensuring no child abuse. No one on the planet would complain about that." Beaulieu paused for a moment as he considered something else, and then he added, "But given that they're all women - and bisexual ones at that! - chances are there the religious fringe lunatics will sooner or later get up in arms and move to try to do something to hurt or cage them."
"True, but Avalonian civilian advisors are already helping police forces in the States hunt down whackos like that idiot who made that mess at Waco some years back, the one that provoked that McVeigh moron to blow up that building in Oklahoma City," Gamblin stated. "Atop that, given that Afghanistan and Pakistan were selected to be represented in the E.D.F. in the first round, the governments in Kābul and Islāmābād both know that if they're going to get people aboard the Mirwais Khan Hotak and the Muhammad Ali Jinnah, they need to have stable societies or else the Director won't let them play with their new toys. The Ṭālibān and al-Qā'idah are probably learning that they may soon be sacrificed to the desires of their home nations' leaders not to be left out of the 'Great Space Race.' What they'll do as a result . . .?" A shrug.
The others nodded. A chime then echoed through the room. "Ops to Captain."
"Captain. Go ahead, Lieutenant."
"Sorry to bother you, sir, but we're picking up an odd reading that matches something in the Gamma File," Lieutenant (Navy) Michelle Anderson, who was the officer of the watch, called up from her position in the operations room. "It's a Stargate."
Silence.
"A Stargate? On EARTH?" Gamblin demanded.
"Affirmative, sir! And it's in Cheyenne Mountain!"
More silence.
"Have you signalled Arizona?"
"Affirmative, sir! Captain Kazanski's having kittens over there! The signal's gone to Yamato as well; automatically relayed to the Director!"
A moan. "Joy!" Gamblin snarled as he tapped controls. "Captain to Security."
"Security, Tremblay."
"Doug, I need every MP and infantryman you can muster on the ship with Lawgivers and Peacemakers in the materialiser rooms! And I want it NOW!"
"Yes, sir!"
2568 kilometres west of Welland, under a mountain near Colorado Springs . . .
"I tell you, the thing is moving!"
Before her co-workers from the 721st Security Forces Squadron could react to her words, Senior Airman Carol Weterings was on her feet and walking away from the poker table towards the grate ramp leading up to the tarp-covered circular object at least fifteen feet in diameter at one end of the storage room located deep within the NORAD command bunker complex, though said bunker room was technically not part of either the bi-national American/Canadian aerospace defence network or the recently-formed United States Northern Command. As she moved up the ramp, the sudden surge of wind within the chamber began to increase as the tables began to rattle, causing her co-workers to all get up and look around before they moved to reach for their Beretta M-9s.
Suddenly, the very air became alive with a ringing noise as showers of energy appeared on both sides of the ramp leading to the now-exposed circular metal ring, which had triangular reddish lights set up at every forty degree point on the arc from the very top as the inner ring began to rapidly spin. Said showers then solidified into a dozen men and women in a mixture of Canadian Forces field CADPATs and naval combat dress, all armed with very futuristic rifle-like weapons that reminded the American service personnel of the Heckler & Koch G11 battle rifle system that had been developed in the latter part of the previous century. All of them had a crowned unit identifying patch at the bottom of their rank insignia marked HAIDA, save for the infantry personnel, all of whom wore either CG or GC under their rank insignia, their berets or camouflage boonie hats bearing the crowned ten-point star of the Canadian Guards. Leading them was a scowling man in CADPATs with army captain's rank and the thunderbird hat badge of the Canadian Forces Military Police on his red beret. On seeing him, Weterings straightened herself, saluting. "Captain!" she called out.
Douglas Tremblay looked over, and then returned the salute. "Airman. Sorry to drop in on you unexpectedly, but we've got us an incursion event happening now!"
"'Incursion event,' Captain?" one of the other USAF personnel from 721 SFS - and the current detail commander watching over the "thing" - Staff Sergeant Jason McAfee, asked as he came up to stand beside the Canadian, M4A1 carbine in hand.
Tremblay stared at him. "Weren't you briefed on the Stargate, Sergeant?"
"No, sir. Not a bit!"
"Oh, fuck!" the captain snarled, which made the American security personnel gape in shock on hearing the Canadian officer make such a ripe oath. "Okay, get your people behind a table. Don't fire unless you feel you have to; we've got the weapons to handle what's coming through right now! HAS A CHEVRON LOCKED ON THIS THING?"
"One just locked, Captain!" an infantryman to the left of the boarding ramp yelled out. "Can't tell where it's coming from, though!"
Tremblay spat out. "Alright, assume it's hostile! Heavy stun!"
"YESSIR!" everyone barked out.
Drawing out his own Lawgiver, Tremblay ordered, "Move back, Sergeant!"
"Yes, sir!" McAfee said as he doubled back to where his co-workers were, all crouched beside the poker table - which had been set on its side - and waited.
One of the two side doors then opened, revealing a scowling United States Marine Corps captain in BDUs. "Hey, Doug! What's the sitch?" Captain Michael Amos asked.
"One chevron's locked, don't know where it's coming from, Mike," Tremblay said as a section of Marines with Peacemaker rifles came in to back up the Canadian mixed military police and infantry team from Haida. "Wait! Second one . . .!"
"Chevron Two locked, Captain!" a sergeant from Haida called out.
"Where's the control unit for this thing?" Amos demanded.
"We don't even know what it IS, Captain!" McAfee called out.
The Marine captain looked over, and then blinked. "You weren't BRIEFED on this thing?" he demanded as another hard clang! indicated the third chevron had just locked in place. "Goddamn it! Who's in charge of this blasted abortion, anyway?"
"Is your CO talking to the admiral about this?" Tremblay asked.
"Yeah, he is!"
The two captains gazed into each other's eyes, and then Amos grimaced, making his already dark skin turn a very nasty shade of black. "Consider it hostile until proven otherwise, Captain Tremblay?" he asked his counterpart from Haida.
"That's my call, Captain Amos," the Canadian officer said, nodding.
Both men then turned as the fourth chevron locked into place. "Listen up, Thunderbirds!" Tremblay barked out. "Like I just said: We have a hostile incursion event! Shoot the instant anyone walks through the event horizon! Heavy stun!"
"Ditto with you, Marines!" Amos barked. "Shoot 'em as they come through!"
"YESSIR!" "AYE-AYE, SIR!" came from two dozen mouths as the fifth chevron clacked into place, causing the wind in the chamber to pick up considerably.
Silence then fell as two more chevrons - the last being the one at the very top of the ring - clicked into place. A second later, a loud WHOOSH! filled the room as a wall composed of a silvery water-like substance filled the space in the middle of the ring, sending out a geyser that nearly reached all the way to where Tremblay and Amos were standing. Both captains ducked slightly as the geyser faded back into the wall now formed in the middle of the aperture, and then silence fell . . .
KLANG!
Everyone tensed on seeing a silver ball somewhat smaller than the average basketball drop out of the portal to land on the top of the ramp. A second later, a projection wave of energy reached out to scan the room, specifically focusing on five people. One of them was Senior Airman Carol Weterings. One was one of the Marines that had just come in from Arizona, Lance Corporal Nellie Saunderhausen. The other three were Canadians, two military police personnel - Master Seaman Lynn Prichard and Corporal Wendy Cavendish - and one infantry soldier, Guardsman Blanche Lachelle.
"It's interested in women," Amos whispered.
"Won't be taking ours!" Tremblay said as he levelled his Lawgiver and fired.
The bolt of energy shattered the device in one blast of energy. "Um, Captains, what the hell's goin' on here?" Staff Sergeant McAfee demanded.
"You'll be told in a minute, Sergeant," Amos said . . .
. . . as someone then stepped out of the shimmering wall.
He didn't get the chance to realise he was waltzing directly into a free-fire zone; the instant he was in the clear, two dozen Peacemakers opened up with a storm of energy that slammed him from everywhere in the space holding the Chappa'ai in place. As the armoured man dropped off the boarding ramp to crash into the floor by two of the Canadians from Haida, more armoured figures came through. They themselves were instantly shot at, their bodies overwhelmed by the torrents of neural disruptive power they were certainly not expecting on coming to the Tau'ri homeworld. Within a minute, six more armoured figures had been savagely knocked down by the powerful Zephyrite battle rifles. Just as the reception party was about to relax, an eighth figure - this one in solid gold armour - then emerged. Two bolts of energy slammed into his body thanks to Lawgiver shots from both Douglas Tremblay and Michael Amos. As he dropped face-first onto the boarding ramp, the Marine nodded in approval. "Nice shot."
"Thanks. I keep in practice," the military police officer said, smirking.
"Scan them all!" Gunnery Sergeant Steven Black then barked out. "Tricorders!"
"Scanning now, Gunny!" a Marine corporal said as he tapped controls on his portable device, and then he blinked as the readings came out. "Holy shit . . . "
"What is it?" Tremblay asked.
"They're symbiotics, Captain! Just like it says in the Gamma File!"
A sigh. "Wonderful!" Amos growled. "Your brig or ours?"
Tremblay smirked. "Do all of them have pouches in their bodies, Corporal?"
The corporal blinked, and then tapped controls on his machine. As he was doing that, the other visitors from the Earth Defence Force were moving to seize the rod-like weapons that had been brought by the aliens. "All save our boy in gold, sir."
"That's a Goa'uld, then," Amos concluded. "Alright, Marines, get them all up to Arizona save for the boy in gold. Strip them of everything, including clothing. Leave the snakes in their pouches alone; they can't survive without them. Individual cells!"
"AYE-AYE, CAPTAIN!" the people under his command barked.
"What about the other one, Captain?" Warrant Officer Don Glas, the division petty officer for Haida's on-board military police group, then asked.
"Same orders Captain Amos gave his men, but be VERY cautious, Don!" Tremblay said. "His symbiont is to be considered hotter than Chernobyl! Everyone is to wear HAZMAT suits when they're stripping this idiot of everything before tossing him into a cell. And if you see something come out of him, feel free to blast it into atoms!"
A smirk. "Yes, sir!"
H.M.C.S. Haida, an hour later . . .
"Permission to come aboard, Captain?"
"Permission granted, General. If we knew someone of your rank was coming aboard, I would have had a proper side party here for you."
The balding major general in the blue duty uniform of the United States Air Force smiled as he took Brian Gamblin's hand in his own. "There's no need for that anyway, son," George Hammond then said. "This was my last posting before I was to finally retire. To have THIS happen . . .!" He then sighed, shaking his head. "I like to thank you personally for sending your boys down there to stop these . . . "
"Goa'uld and Jaffa," Gamblin said as he guided Hammond out of the materialiser room into the hallway, where a turbolift station was located. Once inside, the captain called out, "Regulating Flats." As the machine then shifted aft towards the central part of the Canadian starship's hull, he gazed on the visiting officer. "According to what we overheard the White House sent to Arizona, you bumped into these people about the same time the First Tag Race was happening. Why didn't you call the MIBs?"
"Well, Project: Giza has been ongoing ever since Professor Langford found the damned thing in the desert of Egypt back in 1928," Hammond stated. "It was originally run by Army Intelligence until the Air Force was founded in '47, then switched to our control. We've been in that line of mentality ever since we first found it!" A sigh. "After the mission to Abydos, it was decided to shut it all down. We weren't expecting more of these aliens to suddenly show up and try to attack Earth." He then gazed on the Canadian officer. "How'd you people learn about these things?"
"Partially from Mister Ki and Miss Hakaru; the Sagussans - at least the Fourth Republic - knew of the Stargates and what they could do. Partially from the Director herself; she's friends with a Noukiite free warrior who's had run-ins with the Goa'uld and the Jaffa before," Gamblin stated. "As a matter of fact, once the Lady K'ekhech gets here to personally identify our guest, we might have a reunion of sorts."
The turbo car then stopped, the doors opening into the corridor where the ship's security force was headquartered, along with the coxswain as it was traditional in the Canadian Navy for the senior non-commissioned officer of any ship to also be in charge of all disciplinary matters. Awaiting them was Chief Petty Officer 1st Class Beaulieu. "Captain. General. You're just in time. The Director's here."
"Oh, wonderful!" Gamblin muttered as he rolled his eyes. "Where is she?"
"BOW TO YOUR GOD!"
Hearing that, both officers exchanged a look. "By the sounds of it, the Director is already starting the interrogation," Gamblin muttered. "This way, sir."
Both walked down to the forward end of the compartment, where Haida's two dozen brig cells were located. One of them was being watched by two scowling military policemen with Peacemaker rifles at the ready as they gazed inside. Both of them tensed on seeing their commanding officer approach with an American air force two-star, and then they relaxed as Gamblin waved them at ease. Also standing there was Douglas Tremblay. "So how is our guest from another world, Doug?" Gamblin asked as he gazed on the military police division officer, crossing his hands behind his back.
"Fit to be tied, sir," Tremblay stated with a smirk. "Doesn't like the accommodations and he's been cryin' like a baby because we took his toys away."
"Well, isn't that too bad?" Gamblin said.
"BOW TO ME! I COMMAND IT!"
"No."
That deceptively quiet voice made George Hammond look to see a calm-looking Moroboshi Hiromi seated in the lone chair at one end of the brig space. Save for a simple bed and a stall area for a wash basin and a toilet, the room was totally bare. The reborn emperor wasn't alone in the brig, though; also present was a scowling dark-skinned, slender yet muscular man looking to be in his early thirties at the most, now dressed in a plain martial arts gi-like uniform with a simple belt wrapped around his waist. He was on his feet glaring wrathfully at the slender woman sitting there, looking at him as if he was some annoying cockroach that was disturbing her dinner.
"I AM YOUR GOD!" the man thundered.
"You're a pretender to the word. Almost all your kind are that way." Hiromi then smirked. "Save for the smarter ones who declared themselves 'Tok'ra.'"
He jolted as if she had stabbed him with a live wire. "You will be made to bow to me, woman!" he snarled, his eyes glowing with energy. "Your impertinence will not be forgiven! You will be used as a host for my mate . . .!"
"Pity that you put a symbiont into me, the regenerative enzymes in my body would kill it in minutes," she countered. "The blessings of having ra'naquadah in my blood."
He froze, his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at her. "Impossible . . . "
"What makes you say that?" she asked.
"You cannot be Ra'kalach!" he snarled. "They died out ten thousand years ago!"
"Oh, really?" she asked. "Then explain the Lady K'ekhech."
A fearful sucked-in breath of air made him stagger. "How do you know her?"
"She's a friend of the family," she explained. "She aided my brother in helping my sisters and I be free of his mind several months ago. All using bioroid bodies born of the DNA of the Ra'kalach themselves. Strange that you nor your brother and sister System Lords never heard of Project: Avalon. I find it disappointing. A race as experienced and as knowledgeable as the Goa'uld being tricked by a people like the Niphentaxians?" She then smirked. "Oh, forgot. You would call them 'Na'kalach.'"
A snort and laugh. "THEM? Who gave those mindless fools the right to touch that created by the Knowledge Bringers?" he demanded.
"Sadly, luck was against the Avalonians the day the Niphentaxians stumbled onto them," Hiromi stated. "Such is the twists and turns the Te'a makes in our lives. Fortunately, it's been rectified and the Na'kalach were rendered impotent. But since the Na'kalach's allies seemed not to care for them, the Avalonians decided as a group to hurt them in return by taking the Tau'ri homeworld for themselves."
Silence.
"I . . . see," he then stated. "Do you lead these . . . Avalonians here?"
A shake of the head. "No. I am Director of the Earth Defence Force. A force of fifty ships built with the technology of the Ra'kalach by two Tau'ri warriors who were kidnapped as children by the Ipraedies, the green-skinned ones outspin of this world." As his face twisted in disgust - no doubt, this fellow had encountered those of that race before - she added, "Since another race, the Urusians - the horn-headed ones with the tapered ears on the tiger-striped world near the hearth world of the Pakalach - desired to ensure the Ipraedies did not take this world, my friends had to hurry to build the ships, but they were several months too late. Still, no lasting damage was done by the Urusians and the Pakalach make them go home when the Avalonians sought refuge - and a new world and society to call their own - here."
He took that in, and then he nodded. "I can see why you were so much on guard when we came through the Chappa'ai to seek a new host for my wife."
"The Lady Amaunet, you mean?"
He perked. "You know of her?"
"I know you are Apophis, the most powerful of the System Lords now that Ra has been terminally dealt with," she stated. "Kyech - the Lady K'ekhech - told me of your encounter with her on Ch'eng-ch'ehek a year ago; you were seeking out a place to build a Jaffa training camp but never knew the Pakalach had claimed the world as their own and that many herds of k'oni had been shifted to that world due to the rather large serpent population there. You - or one of your warriors; I know not which it was - destroyed a grove the Lady K'ekhech had taken a personal liking to, thus arousing her anger and making you confront a creature you couldn't shoot down." A smirk. "Much like dealing with even the most kind-hearted of the Yizibajohei, wouldn't you think?"
He turned VERY pale on hearing that word from her. "You are allied with THEM?"
A snort. "Of course not. There is no government on that world to ally with and my planet has enough problems on its own to deal with to be importing them from other worlds. Especially that one!" Hiromi then smirked. "Still, Kyech-san spared your life, Apophis-san, so I am willing to show mercy to you in the same manner. And perhaps even help you help your mate be allowed to live her life again."
"How?" he asked, clearly surprised by her offer. "Our symbionts cannot survive in the body of one of the Ra'kalach. We need a Tau'ri body so she could truly live."
"There is one other way to do this."
"How?"
"Tre'cha. The soul-transfer." Hiromi then smiled. "It's considered quite important amongst the Avalonians. What I would offer you is the cloned body of one of the ladies that were in the chamber back on Earth when you came in. We would then take the Lady Amaunet's mei'na - her soul - and move it into the new body. She would have to give up the ability to live in different bodies from that point on. But look at the advantages: Telepathy, empathy, an eight-century lifespan . . . and no more questions about having to worry about the potential consequences of her and you bearing a harcesis between yourselves. It would be easy to augment your current body's DNA with the DNA strands that makes Avalonians the way they are. And you two can live the rest of your lives . . . and even more, start a dynasty that will help unite your people."
"You speak HERESY!"
Watching this from their vantage point, both Brian Gamblin and George Hammond were surprised at how pale Apophis had become on hearing Hiromi's suggestion. "I speak only of a means by which your society can survive and thrive," she said as she stood up. "I would - for your wife's sake most of all - think hard about such an offer, Lord Apophis. To ensure you do not anger anyone else, you will remain here for the time being. Perhaps your Jaffa might be more easily persuaded to this end."
With that, she made a motion with her hand. One of the MPs deactivated the barrier that kept Apophis trapped inside his cell to allow the reborn emperor to walk out while the other levelled his Peacemaker on him as she stepped clear. "General Hammond," she said, nodding to the American officer. "My quarters are this way. I would like to hear everything about your Project: Giza and your people's recent trip to Abydos. I would also like to get the chance to meet Jack O'Neill if possible."
"I can certainly arrange that, Director," Hammond stated . . .
U.S.S. Arizona, in geo-synchronous orbit over Phoenix, Arizona . . .
"So you took the precaution of having Avalonian volunteers from NOSC Phoenix help out in moving these Jaffa from the transporter room to the brig . . . and while they were in transit, the snakes inside their bodies tried to possess them?"
"Aye, sir," Commander Jennifer Turner, the chief medical officer of the American starship, said as she gazed apologetically at Captain Tom Kazanski. "They had just been stripped of their armour and clothes and were about to be dressed in the two-piece suits we got from the replicators when those things came flying out of their pouches to try to penetrate the skins of the corpsmen involved in putting them into the brig." A sigh. "Fortunately, the regenerative enzymes in their bloodstreams attacked those things right away, forcing them out of their bodies. The corpsmen attacked only suffered a little nausea. Those things all expired within about ten minutes; they couldn't muster the strength to get back into their hosts' pouches and the corpsmen were too busy trying to make sure everything was alright with themselves."
The man still respectfully known in the American fighter pilot community even to this day as "Mister Iceman" sighed as he stared at the still figures in the recovery room of his ship's main sickbay. On seven of the beds, seven very young girls were now sleeping, dressed in plain white robes. "I take it that even if their original bodies expired, the souls of these aliens were saved . . . " He nodded to the sleeping girls.
"Yes, sir. Each corpsman had a friend helping out; the friends were the ones that did this. Tre'cha was automatic in all the cases," Turner stated. "As you'll probably know, sir, all Avalonian hospital corpsmen were all pre-programmed with those skills even before they went off to basic and trades training at Great Lakes."
A nod. "What about the Jaffa?"
"All in suspended animation now," she reported. "Without those snakes - or whatever the devil those things're called! - they simply can't survive. Their immunity system is tied down to those pouches and the snakes inside them. We're considering doing DNA-recombination therapy to help them be converted into baseline human - or at least Terran-turned-Avalonian - but I don't feel confident enough to make that type of judgement call without input from higher authority, Tom."
He nodded; Jennifer Turner was his squadron flight surgeon when he commanded Fighter Squadron 14 (the Tophatters) aboard U.S.S. Enterprise nearly a decade ago after the trauma of 9/11, so he was more than happy to get her aboard as his CMO when Arizona was commissioned. "How are these kids adjusting?" he asked.
"They're still unconscious. According to some of the initial mind-scans done by Chief Bradley, they're at the emotional equivalent of early teen years on Earth, so the bodies were prepared at about fourteen years of age." Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman Heidi Bradley was the current senior non-commissioned officer in Arizona's Medical Department - a Master Chief Hospital Corpsman Ellen Wynthrop was due to be posted from the National Naval Medical Centre in Bethesda, Maryland as the senior NCO medic for the whole of the ship and her affiliated air and ground units in a month - and one of the first full-time U.S. Navy personnel to have undergone a "body swap" to become an Avalonian when it was offered. Given the added advantage of telepathy and empathy, she was a greater asset to Doctor Turner now than her many years of experience as an independent duty corpsman serving aboard ships and with various Marine Corps units would normally have given her. "Would you believe none of them have names?"
Kazanski gaped. "You're kidding me!"
A shake of the head. "No. From what Heidi was able to discover, they're not given their own indigenous names until they're considered 'mature' enough to take their first body for themselves," Turner explained. "Supposedly, it's a very important ceremony for their kind," she sarcastically added. "It allows them to be seen by their peers as having the right 'conquering spirit.' Or so the chief thinks."
A moan. "Good grief! Scalphunter was involved in THIS?"
Turner gaped at him. "Scalphunter? You mean Jack O'Neill? The Air Force spec ops officer that helped bail you and Ron out of Iraq after the first Gulf War?"
"Yeah, that's him," Kazanski affirmed with a nod. "Jack was asked to lead the mission to the planet Abydos around the time the Director's brother was dealing with the Tag Race. He just lost his kid thanks to a stupid accident with a gun; guess he didn't care if he came back from this trip or not!" A sigh. "Poor guy . . . "
"Is the Director going to talk to him?"
A snort. "She's be stupid NOT to talk to him!"
"Where . . .?"
Both of them tensed on hearing that weak voice, and then Turner tapped the control to lower the security field so she could walk over to one of the beds. Kazanski followed her; he was quick to spot the two scowling Marines with Peacemakers at port arms standing on the other side of the doorway. Smirking at the thoughtfulness of the members of the 72nd Marine Expeditionary Unit, the former F-14 Tomcat pilot moved to stand close to the bed where a blinking girl with long dark brown hair and hazel eyes was now starting to look around, the confusion and curiosity on her face quite plain for all to see. She was quick to sense Jennifer Turner walk over to the monitor unit beside her bed, and then she turned as she spotted the captain approach from the other direction. "Where am I . . .?" she asked in a weak yet clear voice. "What's happened to me?"
"Well, you tried to possess one of my volunteer corpsman when they were moving your hosts to the brig deck on the ship," the doctor stated. "Unfortunately, her regenerative enzymes decided you were a parasite and gave you a fatal dose of meson radiation poisoning to start breaking down the cells of your original body. Fortunately, though, another corpsman was quite willing to save your soul before it was lost, then it was dumped into the body you now have." A sigh. "The body you will now have to live with for the rest of your life. All approximately eight hundred years of it, of course."
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
And then . . .
"That's not possible . . . "
"Oh, it's quite possible," Turner stated as she gave the confused girl a smile. "Can you sense your original body inside the body you have right now?"
The girl blinked, and then she closed her eyes for a moment before a horrified gasp escaped her. "No . . . " she moaned. "Where's Teal'c? Where's Teal'c?"
"Who's Teal'c?" Kazanski asked.
She gazed at him, and then she noted his shoulder boards with the four gold stripes on them, topped with an inverted gold star. A glance to Turner revealed her rank of three stripes with a gold oak leaf emblazoned with a silver acorn in the middle. "Are you . . . the First Prime of this ship?" she asked the former pilot.
"I'm the commanding officer, if that's what you mean," Kazanski stated. "Which one was this girl taken out of?" he then asked the doctor.
Turner tapped controls to project a holographic image over the bed. "Is this the person you're talking about?" she asked as the image of a bald, dark-skinned and quite muscular man with a golden circular tattoo on his forehead appeared.
The girl looked, and then she nodded. "That is Teal'c."
"He's in suspended animation now," the doctor explained. "We won't allow him to die, but he couldn't survive without the symbiont - you, in other words - in him."
"You must give him another prim'ta."
Turner blinked. "Is that what you call yourselves at that stage of life?"
A nod. "Yes." A pause. "How is it the Tau'ri possess this power?"
"What power?" Kazanski asked.
"The power to shift my soul to this body?" the girl asked, a strong hint of both fear and awe appearing in her voice. "Only the Ra'kalach had that power." She then closed her eyes. "But they've been dead for over ten thousand years!"
"What did the Ra'kalach call themselves? Do you know?" Turner asked.
A shake of the head. "No. But we call them that because . . . it is said that they could see the very Power of the Gods Themselves in their souls."
Kazanski blinked. "The Te'a."
Turner nodded. "Well, if what you just told us is true, we can conclude that the 'Ra'kalach' - as you call them - were a race known as the Sagussans," she then said as she gazed on the young girl. "And yes, they've been gone for many millennia. But they created a great factory ship, as large as the largest city you can dream of, by which bioroids - artificially-created organic humanoids - could be born." She then reached over to tap the bridge of the girl's nose, which made her giggle. "You now have a bioroid body. In their terms, you are a 'Goa'uld-turned-Avalonian.'"
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
And then . . .
"I am . . . one of the Ra'kalach . . .?"
"In a way, yes," Turner said.
The girl blinked, and then a shudder ran through her as her eyes teared. "I've sinned . . .!" she moaned. "I've sinned . . . I've sinned . . . I've sinned . . .!"
Surprised by that cry of shame as the girl curled in on herself, Turner could only blink before she exchanged a surprised look with Kazanski . . .
H.M.C.S. Haida, two hours later . . .
"The child wept when you revealed what happened to her?"
Jennifer Turner nodded. "Yes, Director. Even if she doesn't really understand what her purpose in life is - she did receive a lot of information passed through her from her parent before she was placed into the Jaffa warrior's body - she DOES look upon the Ra'kalach as beings that are, if not gods themselves, at least as close to divine as her worldview would permit. To actually BECOME one of them . . . "
"Is a heresy," George Hammond finished.
"Damn!" Brian Gamblin breathed out.
"So there goes that idea," Tom Kazanski stated. As he was the effective military second-in-command of the whole of the Earth Defence Force, he was allowed to sit to Hiromi's left, with Haida's commanding officer to her right; everyone was currently in the director's private meeting room near her personal quarters on the Canadian starship. The visiting American Air Force general was seated beside Arizona's commanding officer, with the American ship's chief doctor beside him. "If we try to offer this to Apophis' wife, she'll probably turn it down in an instant," he then added. "We're back to square one again. They'll want a Terran woman."
Hiromi hummed. "I wonder why. General Hammond, was there any effort made by Colonel O'Neill's people on the mission to Abydos to gather any sort of cultural or social information on the Goa'uld? What I know of them - even if it was of much greater strategic import given what just happened in Colorado - doesn't cover any aspects of their society, their history or any of the cultural mores."
A sigh. "Sadly, we weren't able to get anything of that nature, Director. The scientist that was assigned to the colonel's team, a Doctor Daniel Jackson, died in the mission saving the lives of the others of the team; if it wasn't for him, they wouldn't have been able to get back to Earth. Would the Lady K'ekhech know more?"
"Hopefully, she will. Unfortunately, when we spoke of the Goa'uld during our stay on Okusei, it was a brief conversation explaining their capabilities, their control over the Jaffa and their unwillingness to be civil with any other race, especially of the hominoid variety," the reborn emperor stated. "I don't want to push it all the way to a deep mind-probe of Lord Apophis; while it would give us all the answers we want to seek, it would be tantamount to mind-raping and that is a loathsome thing for an Avalonian to do, even to the representative of a potential enemy race."
"What about the Stargate itself?" Gamblin asked.
Hiromi perked. "What do you mean?"
"We can't leave the damned thing in a place where we can't keep a close eye on it, Director," Haida's commanding officer stated. "Not that I'm knocking down all the efforts General Hammond and his people have made in keeping it secure, but given what it's capable of doing, it's a virtual hole in our defences and one we can't afford to keep open. Couldn't we shift it to a new base - say Civano Naval Space Station where Arizona is going to have her ground base - and put our people around it?"
The Americans all blinked at the Canadian officer's suggestion. "Why not Canadian Forces Base Niagara, Captain?" Hammond asked.
"You're the people who found the thing, General," Gamblin stated, smiling.
Laughter around the table. "It would also give an added argument to the founding of the new SEAL team the Pentagon wants to give the Force, Hiromi," Kazanski added. "Much that I will never knock down the Air Force's Special Operations Forces given that it was Jack O'Neill who led the mission to Abydos - not to mention saving mine and Slider's lives back in Iraq - I would personally feel more comfortable with Navy SEALs, back by Force Recon Marines, keeping a eye on something like a Stargate."
"Is Lieutenant Ryback willing to come back to work full-time?" Hiromi asked.
Kazanski nodded. "I could persuade him."
"'Ryback?'" Hammond asked.
"Casey Ryback," Arizona's commanding officer replied. "Lieutenant in the SEALs when he retired back in 1994. He was a chief petty officer involved in Operation: Nifty Package during the Panama invasion, but his team nearly got wiped out because of faulty intel and he lashed out as his CO because of it. Lost his security clearance, wound up being a cook on the Missouri for her last deployment to 'Frisco . . . "
Hammond gaped. "Oh, I remember that! You mean he was the cook that took down that whole team practically by himself before they could offload the Tomahawks from that ship?" After Kazanski nodded, he then sat back in his chair before he remembered something else. "Wasn't he also the one who was involved in the matter with that hijacked train in 1995 that was involved with some other idiot Company thing . . .?"
The Iceman smirked. "Same man."
The Air Force officer nodded. "That was something."
"As we speak, General, a hundred and twenty Avalonians are undergoing full SEAL training to form a team of their own. Most likely, they will help form SEAL Team 72 and be placed under the Force's direction with Captain Kazanski as the administrative formation commander in his place as captain of Arizona," Hiromi stated. "Much to the total despair of all the instructors at the Naval Special Warfare Center in Coronado, everything they try to do to wash out the recruits hasn't budged any of them." As laughter filled the room - the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL course was quite notorious for its average eighty percent dropout rate among recruits - she added, "Captain Kazanski, would Colonel O'Neill be familiar with Lieutenant Ryback?"
"I would think so."
"Then it's time we got them involved in this," the reborn emperor stated . . .
Silver Creek, Minnesota (78 kilometres northeast of Duluth), that evening . . .
"Colonel O'Neill?"
"Who's asking?"
A chuckle. "Still collecting scalps, Hunter?"
The man now perched on the roof of his cottage some distance away from the main highway connecting Duluth to Thunder Bay in Ontario perked on hearing his old Air Force special operations call sign, and then he looked over. "Ice?"
"Who else it'd be?"
A delighted laugh, and then Jack O'Neill got up from his perch where he had been viewing the stars through a telescope, then came over to the ladder to climb down to the ground, where a smiling blond man in a Navy flight jacket with four stripes on his shoulder boards was standing. "Hey, Tom! What are you doing here?" he asked as he took the captain's hand in his own. "You on leave or something?"
A sigh. "Unfortunately, it's official business," Kazanski warned. "C'mon over; I got someone you'd want to meet." With that, they headed over to the front porch of the cottage, where a rather large and muscular man in relaxed clothing was waiting for them. "Jack, this here's Casey Ryback; he was the SEAL involved with that garbage with the Tomahawks from the Missouri a few years back. Casey, this is Jack O'Neill. He's probably the best Air Force spec ops fighter you'll ever meet."
"Pleasure to meet you, Colonel," Ryback said as he held out his hand.
O'Neill shook it. "Pleased to meet you, Chief . . .!" He caught himself. "Oh, wait! You were a lieutenant before you finally retired before that business with that train, right?" At the Nova Scotia native's embarrassed nod, O'Neill waved them both inside. "Would you guys care for some beer or something soft to drink?"
"Non-alcoholic, Jack," Kazanski stated. "The lieutenant and I are on government time right now and unfortunately, you'll be that way quite soon, too."
"Why?"
"Something came through the Stargate this morning," Ryback reported.
O'Neill stopped, his eyes widening . . .
To be continued . . .