Chapter 2

Though it was clearly a storage chamber that had simply been hastily and crudely outfitted to serve as a waiting room, it was remarkably comfortable, especially after the rear-numbing cross country drive. Maddock had left them here while he and Taylor went to arrange their first meeting with the base's commanding officer.

"Okay, Martin, I have a question for you. Basically…why are so many bases always under a damn mountain?" Halverson said, staring at Nesbitt as he and Llewellyn devoured the contents of the 'light reading material' Maddock had left for them – a thick ring bound manual detailing the history, design and construction of the base.

"Actually, the geo team apparently like to call it the 'Tor', according to this." Nesbitt said happily, looking up from the book. "As for why…well, you couldn't wish for a better site for the base. You've got several hundred metres of solid granite on all sides, especially with the Tor directly above us. And being this far down has other benefits – for instance, they're looking into building a geothermal power plant at Site 03 to run the base in future, though that's way down the line."

"What's running it now? Naquadah generators?" Moffatt asked casually.

"Nope. Couldn't get Pentagon permission for those...least not on a permanent basis. So we've got a bank of mobile gas turbine generators, but we'll soon be getting a Rolls-Royce Core H Pressurised Water Reactor instead. They 'borrowed' it from the next Astute-class submarine. You could just about power Southampton with it!" Llewellyn said happily.

Halverson paused, untangling and translating the technical and military terms.

"Wait...are you telling me we're going to be sharing this base with a nuclear bloody reactor?" she said loudly.

"Elise, relax. Once they get Site 03 up and running, it'll be in a different cave around a mile and a half away. And we'll only be relying on it for a while anyway...at least until a more permanent solution than borrowing the heart of a Royal Navy sub can be found." Nesbitt said.

"Navy's doing their nut, according to some of these notes." Llewellyn said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Anyway, I've had a quick look at the geological survey. We've basically got a massive slab of granite hanging over us right now that should be able to take an unbelievable amount of punishment. The whole thing, the Tor and the cave system, is bloody tough and remarkably stable and as such, they say it should enjoy excellent protection from the elements and orbital strike." Nesbitt continued cheerfully.

Halverson frowned, and while Nesbitt didn't see as his eyes plunged back to the manual, Moffatt did, and leaned over from her seat, nudging Elise's arm.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure I like the words 'enjoy' and 'orbital strike' in the same sentence." Halverson groaned. Moffatt grinned.

"Look at it this way." Nesbitt said. "There could be another raging blizzard up on the surface right now and we wouldn't know. More than a thousand feet of rock between us and the air above."

"See, that doesn't actually make me feel any better." Halverson said sarcastically.

Taylor walked into the room, closely followed by Maddock.

"He's ready for us now."

Most of the base differed significantly from the pattern of construction used for the SGC and almost every offworld base, consisting largely of tunnels of varying sizes simply cut out of the rock and left as exposed granite rather than walls of moulded, reinforced concrete. Taylor didn't know if it was simply an early phase of construction or if this was how the tunnels were intended to remain.

"Reminds me of the tunnels in the Rock of Gibraltar." Llewellyn said.

Other than construction equipment and supplies scattered everywhere, the base was austere. Apart from lights, occasional ventilation ducts hung from the ceiling and the odd power cable, each tunnel they walked through seemed mostly empty. Large parts of the facility seemed to be off limits and still very much under construction – they passed entire sections that were still pitch black, and the vast majority of the people they encountered were part of the construction crews.

"I'm not sure how to put this, Captain, but I don't see how this can become operational in a few days like you said. And I expected more, you know, people. Other than builders and electricians, that is." Taylor said. From the mumbles of agreement, he wasn't the only one with the same concerns.

"There may have been a few...hiccups." Maddock said, his tone somewhere between conspiratorial and apologetic. Before Taylor could answer, they turned a corner, faced with the first section of the facility that looked finished, evidenced by the doors, reinforced concrete wall and bright lighting.

"Here we are. Sir, SG-27 reporting for duty." Maddock said as he opened the double doors to reveal a large, well lit conference room dominated by a substantial table. There wasn't a single hint of exposed rock, and the walls were occupied by a variety of charts, maps, rosters and a pair of large display screens.

Taylor returned his attention to the conference room's sole occupant. Sat at the far end of the table was a hard faced man with a wiry build in Army barrack dress. He appeared to be in his late fifties, a balding head otherwise covered with black hair flecked with silver, his entire appearance and demeanour reinforcing the air of refined intimidation he gave off. He didn't react to their arrival, his eyes fixed to the form in front of him, a stack of paperwork next to him. Taylor immediately noticed the crown and three pips on the officer's shoulders.

"Sir!" he barked, saluting. Llewellyn, Jarvis and Moffatt instantly followed suit.

The officer briefly glanced up from his paperwork, surveying the new arrivals with cold, steel grey eyes, then looked back down at the file in front of him as if they were of no consequence, signing it swiftly.

"At ease. Sit down, all of you. No, this side. Captain Maddock, would you mind telling me where the other bloody team is? I was under the impression they arrived six hours ago." He said, his voice hard and commanding, his tone disinterested and humourless.

"I'll go and get them sir." Maddock said, nodding and leaving promptly, pulling the doors closed behind him.

The six members of Taylor's team quickly filled seats along one side of the table, but found themselves waiting for the officer to finish reviewing and signing a slew of forms. Just as Taylor was opening his mouth to say something, the doors opened again.

Of the six people who entered the room, four were in military dress, the other two in casual civilian clothes. Taylor recognised all of them instantly, nodding and smiling slightly at the tall black man leading them.

"SG-26 reporting for duty sir."

"No, you're not. Sit down, and I'll begin the briefing."

As Major Hamilton and his team found seats directly opposite Taylor's team, hiding the bemused expressions on their faces with varying degrees of success, the officer leaned back in his chair, fixing the two teams with a cold stare.

"I'm sure you've worked it out by now, but I'll say it all the same. I am the commanding officer of this facility, Brigadier James Webber. Let me get one thing straight right now – this is not Stargate Command, and you are no longer SG teams. Technically, this is still the Epsilon Site, at least until that sodding handover ceremony. To the British government, however, this is Project Vidar Site One – to the MoD, myself and the men and women in this command, it's Lyngvi Garrison."

There was a knock on the briefing room door, and a woman in a Royal Air Force uniform, her blonde hair scraped into a bun, walked in carrying a stack of identical files.

"Thank you, Sergeant." Webber said as she moved around the table, placing a file in front of each person seated.

"The SWRS, as I'm sure you're aware and as the files that Sergeant Gibson is handing you detail, has changed a great deal. It is not the small, experimental group attached to a US command it used to be. Now, it is a fully fledged armed force of the United Kingdom, albeit the smallest of the services."

Taylor looked over at Hamilton, both of them impressed.

"Officially, we're supposed to be a completely separate operation from the SGC. We all know we're going to be working closely with them, and that we'll be reliant on them for shipping supplies, personnel and the like, and we will of course be adopting several of their tried and tested systems largely in the interests of efficiency and interoperability, but there are some things we will do our own way. What that means is that while we will be using MALPs, IDCs and the US planetary naming protocol, we are not using the American designation system in use at the SGC. So, as of now, you're no longer SG-26 and SG-27. Instead, Major Taylor, you are now the commanding officer of 1 Lyngvi Reconnaissance. Major Hamilton, you're the CO of 2 Lyngvi Reconnaissance."

"Uh, Brigadier, sir…are you sure that's the right way around? I mean, Major Hamilton's team was the first…" Nesbitt said, tentatively.

"Yes, Dr Nesbitt, I'm sure." Webber said, fixing the physicist with a withering stare that made a Wraith handshake seem friendly by comparison. The Brigadier was clearly not a fan of being corrected or interrupted – especially by civilians, it seemed. Webber took a deep breath, and appeared to mellow slightly.

"So now we have our very own offworld base and Stargate program." Taylor said, smiling. Webber, however, was not.

"Major, understand that the United Kingdom just gave up its best chance of owning a 304 to pay for this operation...as well as losing the two as-yet unannounced Astute class subs and keeping the L85 in service into the 2020s. God only knows what the impact will be on our campaigns on Earth. None of this would exist had you not met the Fenrir, and we would have a ship by now." Webber said sternly. As the implications of Lyngvi Garrison's very existence began to set in, Webber continued.

"Just as well, really; bloody Air Force and Navy couldn't decide who'd get control of the damned thing if we did get a 304."

Webber cleared his throat before continuing.

"Our mission here is to prevent a major Fenrir incursion into the Milky Way. That means eliminating the lot out there right now, and preventing the rest from exiting the Void Prison. Yes, corporal."

"Why us, sir? Isn't this more in the SGC's remit?" Moffatt asked.

"Why us? Have you even been paying attention to the interstellar political scene? Corporal, Stargate Command are currently spreading themselves thin across the whole sodding galaxy." The Brigadier began counting things off on his fingers angrily. "They're dividing their rather limited resources between combating the Lucian Alliance, supporting the Atlantis Expedition, eradicating kassa plantations, mopping up the mess of the Ori invasion – oh yes, that one still refuses to go away – and dealing with Goa'uld remnants and non-aligned Jaffa fundamentalists as they stick their heads up. And on top of all that, they've got that bloody Icarus Base fiasco to deal with, among other things." He growled.

Taylor considered this.

"When you put it like that, I expect the IOA practically bit General Bullock's hand off."

His reply was a simple grunt of affirmation from Webber.

"The stark reality of it all is that for the SGC, a thousand escaped werewolves are a low priority mission with disproportionate risks and resource demands attached, when held up against the bigger picture. They've done what they can, and admirably, but they have had no significant advances in months."

"However, for us, they are our one and only priority. The agreement with the IOA and the US Homeworld Command gives us jurisdiction over the Fenrir threat and a region of space roughly three thousand light years in diameter, centred on the Void Prison. This is not just another offworld base, this is a purpose built front line facility dedicated to a single, grim mission. The UK government are in an unenviable but unique position. Nobody else wants this job, and nobody else is willing to pay for it either."

Webber paused, a successful means of ensuring all eyes and all attention were focused on him.

"Our mission is simple – stop the Fenrir from becoming a major threat. Our mission is not, however, easy. Despite the swift construction of this base and the copious funding of the IOA and the UK government, we are in the same position as much of the British armed forces – we are woefully ill-equipped to execute our objective, especially since the MoD, in all its wisdom, ordered the operational start date be moved forward two months, regardless of the facts that this base was already a month behind schedule, three hundred and seventy million pounds over budget, and key personnel hadn't been even been briefed on the existence of the Stargate or prepared up to a week before being assigned here."

The last sentence had carried a degree of barely disguised venom, and Taylor found himself thinking it very likely Webber was talking as much about himself as any of the other personnel. It would certainly explain his attitude, and it sounded exactly like the kind of thing General Bullock would do, especially if he was being pressured to show results – indeed, Taylor and his team had been given very little time to prepare for their new posting.

"Right now this command has only two authorised offworld units – both of which are seated at this table. However, four more units will be stationed here before the end of the month, with others joining in the coming year if the MoD can clear it with General Turnbull at the Nevada Offworld Training Establishment. We have no ships, few allies, our base is half-finished, over-budget, barely operational and far behind schedule, and on top of all that we have precious little advanced technology at our disposal."

Hamilton smirked.

"Never stopped us before, sir."

"Quite. What I want to know from you is this: how the hell do we go about defeating these buggers? After the Battle of Lyngvi the SGC made sod all progress, most of the time coming across them by accident, and then nearly always too late. On the one occasion they directly encountered the Fenrir they lost most of an SG team. Only your team, Major," Webber said, indicating Taylor, "seems to have had any kind of repeat success with them – and then it was largely in terms of getting out alive. Now they've got a bloody warship and despite the best efforts of the Tok'ra, Jaffa and SGC intelligence we haven't got a clue where they might be or what they're doing. So, suggestions."

"We don't know anything about them, basically. What we need is intelligence, any scrap of information we can get on them." Hamilton said.

"True, but we can't exactly infiltrate their ranks, even if we bloody knew where to find them. Somehow I doubt they'll be fooled by squaddies in Halloween costumes." Webber replied dryly, resulting in a few chuckles.

"They're taking people, almost certainly too many to just be for food." Moffatt said, suppressing a shiver at the reality of that statement. "Presumably, they're building a slave labour force – SG-15 observed them doing this at least once, so they're likely to try again. So what if we infiltrated them?"

"Good idea, but too risky. The Fenrir take these people somewhere, and we don't know what happens to them once they cease to be useful. We don't yet have the resources to track or extract any team that goes undercover, and there are far too many unknowns and risks at this point. It puts us in a catch-22 situation: we need intelligence to know how to get intelligence, so that will have to be put on the back burner for a later date. But it is worth considering."

Halverson looked around the room.

"The Vanir. Our best bet for finding out anything about the Fenrir is the Vanir."

"Ah, yes. The Asgard faction. I'm given to understand we know next to nothing about this race as well; at least, nothing of practical value." Webber said.

"That's precisely my point. What we know is this: the Vanir fought the Fenrir thousands of years ago, and isolated them from the rest of the galaxy. At some point after that, the Vanir simply vanished. In over a decade of operation, the SGC never encountered a single reference, artefact or hint that there was another race or faction of Asgard."

"Well, we didn't find out there were Asgard living in Pegasus until last year." Nesbitt said.

"True. The Asgard in general seemed a lot more careful about what they left around than, say, the Ancients or the Goa'uld. But my point is there's nothing in the Asgard Legacy, either, and barely anything on the Fenrir beyond a single description of a bronze age race."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you'd think there would be a warning of some description. Hell, just a sign next to their Stargate address saying 'Come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty big pointy teeth'."

Taylor smiled at his own joke, though he was the only one. Halverson glared at him briefly before continuing.

"Anyway...there must have been a good reason why they did what they did, and why they apparently vanished, and I'd bet a sufficient investigation into the Vanir would turn up no end of intelligence on the Fenrir."

Taylor frowned.

"Intelligence that will be ten thousand years old, give or take." He said.

"But it would give us a lot of context, background...the SGC has been using millennia old information – and artefacts – to fight battles for more than a decade. Let me ask all of you this." Halverson began, exasperated. "How much do we know about the Fenrir? I mean actually know. We built an entire offworld base specifically for the purpose of fighting an enemy that we know next to nothing about. We can't exactly ask one of them, and I'd think we've already used up our good luck when it comes to finding convenient artefacts filled with information on them."

"Your point, doctor?" Webber said tersely.

"Brigadier, I'd suggest making it a standing order for offworld units to look into the Vanir just as much as the Fenrir. They are more likely to be the key to understanding everything and giving us something to work with. And it stands to reason that if they had so much to do with the Fenrir, the best place to look is going to be this region of space. I mean, we already know there are certain myths common to this sector of the galaxy that revolve around wolves and the apocalypse...I can only think of one race that instilled those beliefs."

Webber mused on this, then nodded.

"Noted. You've made a convincing case – though right now, you are our only two offworld teams. The rest will be arriving within the next few weeks. Well, we have ideas to think about. Right now, we need to get this base operational and ready for the official handover in nine days."

Webber finished, and glanced around the table.

"And on that bombshell, I think we should conclude this briefing. Major Taylor, Captain Maddock will issue your team with the relevant identification, documentation and have you all logged on to the base computer and assigned quarters. After that, I suggest you all get some sleep to aid the adjustment to local time, then familiarise yourself with the base and your roles within it. In two days we have the George Hammond arriving in orbit on a supply run, and the delivery and installation of the Stargate to contend with. Worse still, we've got to plan for a visit by a dozen MoD, DoD, IOA, and US and British government dignitaries. I'll take alien werewolves any bloody day of the week over them."

Taking a deep breath, Taylor knocked on the door.

"Yes."

Webber's office seemed to be larger than Landry's at the SGC, but it was also more isolated, with no windows and only the single door. It was also barely decorated beyond what was required for him to do his job – Taylor couldn't decide whether he thought that meant the Brigadier didn't place much stock in personal items, if they simply hadn't been shipped from Earth yet, or if the officer wasn't counting on staying long.

Turning, Taylor saw that Webber's office wasn't entirely undecorated. A row of badges sat on the wall next to the door. Immediately he recognised them as the constituents of the SWRS. He could see those of the British Army, Royal Navy and Royal Air Force along the top, while underneath sat those of individual regiments and units within the three services that had contributed the most to the personnel of the new service – among them the Royal Marines, Paras, SAS, SBS, SRR...but the largest badge, the one mounted most prominently in the centre of the entire display was one he didn't immediately recognise, which surprised him.

It was a sword, passing vertically through a Stargate and behind Earth's point of origin symbol. Underneath the gate was a banner declaring 'Stand firm'. Taylor allowed a slight grin onto his face – for the first time since it's inception, the Special Warfare and Reconnaissance Service had it's own badge.

"They only finalised the design a fortnight ago. I'm still not sure about the motto, but it hardly matters now. What do you want Major?" Webber said, barely looking up long enough from yet more paperwork to irritably indicate Taylor should take the seat in front of his desk.

"Just trying to get a better handle on the situation, sir. Things have moved so quickly, I'm still catching up. Less than a week ago I was sure my career was over, now I'm heading up the flagship unit of an SWRS that's barely recognisable to me. To be honest, I'm surprised it's me – Ham's got to be at least as capable, and a lot less..." Taylor searched for the right word.

"Controversial? Understand this. While I – and the MoD, I should add – am satisfied Major Hamilton's team have performed competently, I felt that your team was a better choice for the flagship unit of this command." he said, glancing at Taylor. "Mainly because you're the unit with the most experience with the Fenrir."

Taylor mulled it over. It made sense, and while he and Hamilton had enjoyed a strong working relationship since joining the Stargate Program, he allowed himself a tiny spark of smugness at suddenly taking the top spot.

"Understood. Still, there's so much I don't know about all of this. It's a little shocking."

Webber put his pen down and leaned forward.

"Major, one week ago I had never heard more than whispers of the Stargate program, nor did I have much of an idea – or care, if I'm honest – that there was life anywhere other than Earth. If you think you've had it tough, try having to learn about twelve years of classified ops and a galaxy of new politics that completely alter your world view in the space of a few days, in order to prepare for commanding a base on an alien bloody planet to fight werewolves."

"You got up to speed on the entire Stargate program and galactic politics in one week?" Taylor said, impressed and shocked.

"Anything can be accomplished if you're prepared to put your mind to it. Besides, there were primers, and I'll admit many of the finer details still elude me."

Webber glared at Taylor briefly, then seemed to reconsider something.

"I expect, however, you're more concerned with why the Ministry of Defence has changed it's mind about you so often and treated you the way it has. As I understand it Major, the MoD weren't entirely sure what to do with you, and by extension your team. I've heard several rumours that you came within a gnat's testicle of being kicked out of the Stargate program altogether. Your track record is simultaneously very impressive and very disturbing. I can see why you were chosen for UK Stargate operations...I can also see why you were quickly dropped from them."

"Could you elaborate?" Taylor said, carefully minding his tone. Again, Webber glared at him for a second, then retrieved a file from his desk. The slightly worn edges and ease with which he found it suggested it was frequently read and referred to, and when Taylor glanced at the inverted title, he saw it was his own personnel file. He started to feel a little uneasy.

"From what I've read, I believe you have demonstrated exceptional – and I do not use the term lightly – tactical ability, in both planning and execution. You were singled out from a pool of fifty-seven candidates largely because of your initiative, your talent for adapting readily to even the most challenging and unconventional of situations and for being extremely resourceful. Clearly these are all qualities needed in Stargate field operations."

Taylor was slightly surprised at Webber's glowing appraisal of his skills.

"However, those same qualities can be read as problematic – your command style unnerves some of the higher-ups, you make sweeping decisions with little thought for the bigger picture...frankly, as I'm sure you damn well know, you should have been promoted to Major years before you were inducted into the SWRS."

"I had suspected as much."

"Your team were kept on active stand-down more as a contingency than anything else, given the problems putting the new teams through training. Had General Bullock had his way, you would most certainly be looking for work in the security or PMC fields right now, despite some of the problems I understand we've had with them recently. As it is, you have some supporters on both sides of the Atlantic who defended your actions and were able to keep you on in some form – despite our frequent issues, British and American forces work well together, so we have a number of people in the Pentagon who'll fight for us. I know that you were kept out of the loop deliberately – apparently it was considered unlikely that any of you would be hopping through the gate for much longer. What you turned up a while back on, ah, P2…"

"P2C-355?" Taylor prompted after a few seconds.

"Hmm. What you found there eventually convinced General Bullock's department that you were of some use to Project Vidar, but the official line is that the cost and difficulty of building this base made simultaneously running an operation out of the SGC untenable."

"With respect, sir, that's – "

"Utter rubbish. I know. However, since it was never certain you would be returning to the SGC, it was felt you didn't need to know about any of these developments – and I mean you in particular, Major, and the rest of your team by extension, since to many you are personally to blame for the Fenrir crisis."

Taylor opened his mouth to protest, but quickly thought better of it. Webber, however, seemed to notice.

"Truth be told, I'm inclined to side with them going by what I've read. Because of your reckless behaviour and misplaced priorities, the IOA is now faced with yet another dire threat to all life in the galaxy. However, I also recognise that your actions gave us vital early warning of the Fenrir threat and a chance, no matter how slim, to do something about it. But your methods left much to be desired. I expect you to perform your duties in this command with greater understanding of what is at stake."

Taylor nodded sombrely.

"I'm aware other members of your team were allowed to remain with the Stargate Program in other capacities, at least for a short time. So here you are. As for how you're here…it's quite simple. I'm sure you don't need telling how persuasive General Bullock can be when he puts his mind to it. In short, he successfully convinced the IOA, the Prime Minister and the Pentagon, in that order, that the United Kingdom had to take responsibility for the Fenrir situation, given that we caused it. The result is this." Webber said, indicating the base with a small movement of his hand.

Turning back to his paperwork, something occurred to Webber just as Taylor began to rise out of the seat. The Brigadier's tone changed.

"This operation, this base, the entire SWRS...it has fierce opposition, and not just in our government. You see this paperwork? I'm drowning in it – the whole damn base is drowning in it, and it's been done on purpose. Our operational date was revised – brought forward by three months. Somebody, and I don't yet know who, is putting every obstacle they can muster in our way. Somebody is determined to see us fail, and I don't know why. This concerns me. Despite our task being so monumentally important, we are being set up to fail, probably to satisfy somebody's political agenda, with every possible obstacle placed in our path to ensure we do not succeed. We've been given a deadline."

"Sir?"

"In nine days, a swarm of IOA bureaucrats are going to traipse through the Stargate. The reason I've been told they're coming is to witness and participate in the handover ceremony to see this facility become officially operational and officially British, but I am damn well aware they are also coming to inspect this place from top to bottom and to scrutinise everything we do. If we have not begun to carry out Stargate operations by the time they arrive, we will in all likelihood be shut down on the spot. Frankly, Major, I requested your presence on this base, against the 'recommendation' of General Bullock, because we are so desperately short of experienced personnel. I need your expertise to get this facility ready to send people we don't have through a Stargate that isn't installed yet, using weapons and equipment we can't buy because we're over-budget and drowning in bureaucratic bull. On top of that, you are to assist me in cutting through this bloody red tape. We need to have at least one team offworld, and soon. Nine days, Major, or we're all going to be back on Earth with no hope of defeating the Fenrir."

"Attention all personnel – the Stargate is now in transit. Estimated time to arrival is forty minutes. Sections B through G are to be evacuated and sealed by sixteen hundred Zulu. Critical personnel, report to your designated stations. Non-essential personnel must remain out of mission critical areas until otherwise advised. Off-duty personnel are advised to remain in their quarters for the duration of the installation. We are now at alert level amber."

Sergeant Gibson's announcement over the PA system had the desired effect. Although the base's staff knew of the importance of the Stargate installation, and had been preparing for it for some time, the announcement generated a flurry of activity. The small number of blast doors that had been installed were sealed, choke points were manned by the few guards present and construction crews downed tools. Everybody was all too aware that the base would be at it's most vulnerable during the installation. Nobody was taking any chances.

With a light machine gun in his hands, Jarvis stood in the large tunnel that threaded through the entire facility, allowing surface access from the cavern destined to hold the Stargate. Alongside him were a dozen other soldiers, all waiting for the large, heavy steel door set in the wall to retract. This would be his first proper look at the cavern that would shortly become home to the Stargate. He'd caught fleeting, shadowed glimpses of it in the few days since arriving at the Garrison, but now he was about to enter it and see it properly for the first time. Clutching the Minimi and feeling the almost comforting weight of his Osprey body armour and webbing, he and the rest of the defence team stepped forward as the heavy, rumbling door slid into the recessed compartment in the cave wall.

"Blimey." he muttered as he gazed around the chamber.

The roughly elliptical cavern was easily large enough to fit an Olympic swimming pool with plenty of room to spare, its walls and high, naturally arched ceiling composed of craggy, mottled grey rock. The floor, however, was clearly artificial – a perfectly level and unbroken expanse of concrete, with the odd exception of a deep and wide trench extending several metres from the far wall. It put him in mind of an oversized mechanic's inspection pit. The metal rig sat in the end of the trench closest to him – clearly designed to hold something heavy, round and upright – gave him a good idea of its intended use.

Almost a dozen people occupied the cavern's floor, most of them engineers, scientists and technicians. The majority of them wore hard hats and high visibility vests, some milling around waiting for the large hangar-style door in the left wall of the cave to open again, this time to admit the Stargate. Others shouted frantically to each other as they tried to finish last minute adjustments to the gate's cradle and the three huge power lines occupying the trench behind it. Several of them wielded angle grinders, showers of sparks cascading off the mount and skittering across the floor while others yelled angrily and urgently to each other.

"Bit big, isn't it?" Jarvis said, indicating the whole cave as he sidled up to Nesbitt. He stepped carefully over the black cables that seemed to snake everywhere across the floor. Much like the rest of the base, the entire cavern had a distinctly unfinished feel to it, from the mobile trailer mounted floodlights in each corner to the sheer lack of combat shelter beyond a few pallets of construction materials and crates stacked along the cave walls. A crude mezzanine level that circled the room had been formed from metal walkways bolted to the rock several metres off the ground, but as yet it lacked any kind of guard rail or cover. Nevertheless, Jarvis could see soldiers with SA80s slowly patrolling it.

"As I understand it, they didn't have much choice – it's the best of the really deep caves, the rock is incredibly tough and stable, and the next cave along is a wee bit damp. Besides, did you ever hear of the problems the SGC had moving large items through the gate?"

"No." Jarvis said. It was an answer clearly intended to cut short this particular thread of the conversation, but Nesbitt either didn't notice or wasn't being shut up that easily.

"When they had to send that rocket to K'tau, they came close to knocking down walls and remodelling everywhere to do it. Hell, they even briefly considered taking the gate out of the mountain and temporarily setting up at Vandenburg. Somehow, I don't think we'd have the same problem here. I mean, look at all this space!" Nesbitt said, grinning.

Jarvis merely grunted in response, carefully noting the number of soldiers in the room and their positions. He felt edgy – though the Stargate now had an Iris, it had to be left open during the installation so the gate could be more easily carried and manoeuvred into position, all the while leaving the base extremely vulnerable to attack by the Fenrir.

"I'd have thought there would be more people for this kind of job." Jarvis said after a while. Nesbitt nodded in grim agreement.

"If I'm honest Colin, I'm not looking forward to this...Gareth was telling me we don't have half the personnel or equipment we really should have for the operation, but the MoD's breathing down our necks to get the Stargate installed ASAP, way ahead of schedule." Nesbitt said in what would have been a conspiratorial whisper had he not had to raise his voice over the din of the engineers with angle grinders making last minute adjustments to the Stargate mount.

"Yeah, well, this whole op isn't looking half as slick as it first did."

"Tell me about it. I mean, I'm incredibly happy to be made head of the research department, and to have my own lab and everything...I just wished the department consisted of more than just me and a temporary assistant. And that the lab currently had doors, network access and electricity. But I'm sure that'll all be sorted soon enough. Still, wish I could tell my son."

"Yeah, well, I wish I could still watch the bloody football." Jarvis moaned.

He turned and looked at Nesbitt as something occurred to him.

"Head of research, huh? Not bad."

Nesbitt simply grinned. From Jarvis, that was the equivalent of being grabbed in a congratulatory bear hug or having your hand excitably shaken until it was sore.

"Where's Dave? I'd have thought he'd want to see this." Nesbitt asked.

"The Major's busy. Wanting to see it and being able to see it are two very different things, especially given his workload. Last I heard, he was – "

He was cut off by the roar of a powerful diesel engine in the adjoining tunnel, and slowly the large metal door began to slide open.

"Bloody hell, that's a big truck..." Nesbitt said, staring at the angular, solid-looking dark olive drab vehicle that had pulled up alongside the now open door, the Stargate held upright on it's flatbed trailer.

"Oshkosh 1070F. It's a tank transporter." Jarvis said with barely any interest as a heavy duty forklift truck approached the upright ring.

"Well...if you'll excuse me, I'm actually supposed to be in the control room, working on interfacing the dialling computer. This," Nesbitt said, gesturing to the Stargate and everybody milling around, "is more of an engineering job than scientific. At least until they're ready for the power lines."

"Dialling computer? I thought we had a DHD." Jarvis said, confused. He glanced up - high on the right wall of the cave was the control room, still largely under construction, it's slanted, mesh-reinforced windows providing a good but relatively safe view of the entire cavern.

"We do, but it, ah, took a few hits during what they're calling the Battle of Lyngvi and now works somewhat erratically. Besides, dialling computer offers plenty of benefits over a DHD, especially for this kind of set-up."

"So...why do they need you for the power lines? Isn't that 'just' engineering too?"

Nesbitt gave him a slightly bemused, quizzical look.

"You don't know?"

"Obviously not. Know what?" Jarvis said, scowling.

Nesbitt took a deep breath, his mood visibly dropping.

"The Ministry of Defence want the Stargate capable of dialling in to the Void Prison again."

The enormity of the statement took a moment to sink into Jarvis' mind.

"Wait...what? They actually want to be able to send us through to Werewolf Central?" Jarvis said, shocked.

"I'm afraid so. It's not something we'll be doing lightly, I suppose, not least because until we get Site 03 up and running we're barely going to be able to generate the power for dialling the Prison – it'll be a hell of a lot easier once we get the reactor. But according to Webber, it's an option we have to have. And since I'm the bloke who worked out how it did this and how the Vanir reactor connected to the Stargate originally...guess what."

Jarvis grunted again. Realising that was what passed for an impressed response with the red-headed Royal Marine, Nesbitt nodded to himself and headed for the metal steps leading first to the crude mezzanine and then the control room itself.

For the next half an hour, Jarvis watched with undisguised boredom as the Stargate was lowered and manoeuvred at an achingly slow pace by the forklift into the extremely solid looking mount, waved into position by a team of extremely stressed Royal Engineers that looked too small for the operation in hand.

Far too small, Jarvis realised hurriedly.

The Stargate dropped. It didn't have far to fall, and by some miracle it stayed upright, but when twenty-nine metric tonnes of naquadah drops unexpectedly, it doesn't go unnoticed. As the gate slammed into the waiting steel rig with an incredibly loud clunk, something metallic underneath it made a stuttering groaning noise and promptly sheared off explosively. The engineers clustered around the gate were already running and shouting, but by the way at least one of them was doubled over and clutching his chest, the man next to him yelling frantically, they hadn't escaped unscathed.

Swearing under his breath, Jarvis ran to the intercom and pressed the button.

"Medical team to the gate...cave."