"Normal speech"

"Gothic around non-Imperials."

"Mental Links."

"Ship Names."

"#Ancient to everyone#."

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AngelForm: The Star Vampire was known to me as Ersatz. Kind of a joke that I never got around to using. To paraphrase Scorpius of Farscape "time has an elastic structure rather than a rigid frame". I like to follow that. Plus it's good for introducing something's the show never got to touch like the Furlings or why the Alterans where so much more peaceful than the Ancients. You'll just have to wait and see about McKay. Serve the Emperor today, tomorrow you may be dead.

Lord of Murder: Yes it is. Ah, but the fun lies in how it does. The common man is like a worm in the gut of a corpse, trapped inside of a prison of cold flesh, helpless and uncaring, unaware even of the inevitability of its own doom.

Ferrian: Yes the Necrontyr race failed. But the Ancients succeeded using Necrontyr technology. The people were different the results the same. The most deviant of mind is often concealed in an unblemished body.

The Amazing chicken diner: I'm sorry to hear that. But it was exposition time and well a nice long ramble was necessary. I'm glad to hear you liked the fight but you'll have to wait and see about McKay. Ruthlessness is the kindness of the wise.

Skipper 1337: Thank you for the praise. Now yes the destruction of the C'tan is a problem but McKay was 'gifted' with even more of the C'tan's power, so we'll just have to see were that goes. Levi killed it because if the thing got off world; well it would be utterly unstoppable. Ortus Veriumas and the other sights the Expedition has been 'evaluating' are all to do with Ascension not just C'tan. They lack the proper codes to get at the info on C'tan. A good idea but no one knows of the damn thing and I personally would like to keep that Deus Ex Mechanicus out of the story. But if it is deemed necessary then probably. Okays, the Ori are basically a conglomerate god. They aren't demons as they are not formed from the emotions of the material races. The Chaos Gods we know are slumbering masses of emotion or vaguely connected lumps of power. The lack of unruly Psyker activity and the presence of the Others prevents too much power flowing to the Ruinous Powers. Nurgle like the other gods can't do a thing while asleep and was even less powerful the five million years ago that the plague hit. Yes there are similarities between the Furlings and the Eldar. The machine that malfunctioned and caused the disaster was just that a machine and had no emotions which could form a Chaos God. The Furlings are natural Psykers unlike the Eldar who were altered into Psykers and as such their presence hardly disrupts the Warp. In a sense they have an incredibly weak Hive Mind like the Tyranids, this prevents any malevolent beings from forming. It is better for a man to be afraid than happy.

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Attention Readers: After a staggering amount of work. I have completed the fully redone version of The Emperor Works in Weird Ways. Complete with all new Prologue. Go and check it out if you would like to see it without all those annoying mistakes.

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She was power given form. Evolution perfected. The all consuming god. The beating heart of the indomitable consciousness that had spanned infinity. The one true mother to the race known within the Imperium as the Tyranids. Everything reflected in her eyes was her prey.

A truly splendid monster.

Space swirled and deformed as pink clouds wreathed in lightening and darkness took shape. Through the dark door that led to the Warp glided through the only remaining one of the sub-species the Alliance had dubbed Progenitor. Skin thicker than some planetary crusts. Longer than any Battleship any sane race would ever build. Driven forward by the sheer mental power she commanded. The scarred remains of her birthing sacks stood testament to the failed attempts on her life. A multitude of mouths opened, teeth that had cut through shields glinted in the radiance of the local star. Eighteen different eyes and eye like structures opened to witness the cold beauty of the Universe. It was all ignored; instead they focused on the cloud of tiny metal ships that butchered her few remaining children. There was a flicker of cold anger that was quickly replaced with joy. When, and she had no doubt that it would come to pass, this prey was consumed and their own abilities added to hers, her race would be untouchable. With that thought resounding through the tattered remains of the Hive Mind she glided towards battle.

The Furling let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a purr and the groan of overstressed metal. Its senses detected that the ones that called themselves humans and the single Asgard were still blissfully unconscious. Something flickered on the edge of its perception. She was singing to her brood. The Furlings entire form rippled with electricity before it died down. The creature would be attended to later for now he had to prepare the Furlings' final weapon.

Alteran and Asgard crews stared in shock as the mammoth ship left the raging swirl of real-Warp space overlap. The bulky Asgard ships were the first to recover unleashing a barrage of particle beams and energy cannons onto the ridiculously tough skin of the Hive Progenitor. The Alterans added their own weapons a second later. If they could kill the beast now then the strange Furling device need not be activated. Alteran ships formed into squadrons and began dancing around the lumbering giant. Asgard ships charged fearlessly towards the beast.

Aboard the small fleet's flagship that the Aquila now circled, the Alteran Admiral sighed in resignation. It would take a fleet three times their size to take down this ship; maybe even more. He could sense what was coming next, the most deadly weapon in the Eurynis arsenal. If only the Furlings would hurry up with the final component. He cursed the Universe for allowing such a creature to be born. But all that was left for him and his soldiers was to fight and die.

Muscles contracted across the spine of the Progenitor. A veritable cloud of small organic blobs were forced out by powerful muscles into the void of space. Weapons fire intensified from the Alliance fleet as they went into crazy evasive patterns. The inertial dampeners screamed in protest as they protected the crew from turning themselves into paste. Rather than futilely trying to burn through the Progenitors hide, they fired into the cloud of spores. Hundreds of the biological weapons detonated as light speed neutrons and deadly photons tore their atoms apart. It didn't even make a dent in the cloud. As one the spores shrouded themselves in glowing chartreuse light. Then power of the Hive Mind was unleashed on the Alliance fleet.

The organic cloud, propelled by highly pressurized gas, swirled around the huge length of the Progenitor Hive once in an impressive display of maneuvering and speed before barreling at full speed towards the dancing Alliance ships.

The Alteran Admiral shook his head as he watched the fleet around the planet. Entering hyperspace in the presence of the larger Eurynis ships was tricky at the best of times. Before a Progenitor and her Praetorian spores it bordered on suicide. The tiny points of light struck the first ten ships as they tried to stabilize their wildly fluctuating purple hyperspace windows. Shields flared and died instantly; several of the points of light had vanished but the remainder smashed into the hulls tearing through the strongest compounds the Alliance could manufacture with ease. Energies and forces that only the science of the Furlings had even begun to understand rippled through the doomed ships. Hulls twisted and warped into bizarre shapes. The crew unlucky enough to be caught in the effects of the Praetorian impacts died in ways that broke the sanity of those who witnessed it. Kinetic impacts sent tremors through the ships, shaking apart the already weakened structures. The ten ships didn't have time to send distress signals before their cores and hyperdrives ripped themselves apart. They died in the hearts of tiny stars. Most of the remaining fleet was sucked into hyperspace before the spores struck them, a few others weren't so lucky. Striking off the edge of the unstable sub-space window sent them tumbling uncontrollably into space to be picked off by the suicidal swarm of spores.

With a growl he ordered the fleet into hyperspace to regroup at his position. The Progenitor sensing no more threats in the area, almost mocking the pitiful few ships that huge in space, descended towards one of the few towers that broke the planet's atmosphere. The old Alteran snarled at the sight. How he hated those creatures. Even though it was against everything he was supposed to believe in; he honestly wanted that thing and its entire species to roll over and die.

The Furling let out a melody of low tones that would have made most humans sigh in sheer joy. The work was finished. All that remained was the initiation device. His people would come soon. Striding over to its suit it let out a sad tone as the crystalline creature folded itself up into the small space within. Re-activated the suit walked gently over to one of the communication stations. Already it could hear the groans from Tror. The Asgard were naturally resilient; so it was of little surprise that he awoke before the humans.

"Shimmering wall of Iron fireflies, a measure of the Seas wrath. Build a castle of sand. The Pebble is apotropaic. The Mountain holds the key. Beat the drums of Lightning till she brings for blood." The Furling sang into the communicator. The old Alteran's confused face simply nodded before it vanished.

The Furling looked upon the creation that his race, in their desperation, had brought forth. A single large Dodecahedron floated in the air, spinning gently as it awaited activation. This device was power. It could unmake the Universe if used properly. Mastering it was mastering time and space and matter. Only a god should have the power and the races of the Alliance had no gods.

Tror seemed mostly awake. The increasing groans from the downed Asgard distracted it from its musing. The Furling strode over to him. It guessed there was a lot of explaining to be done.

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The CNN logo flashed up on screen before falling away to reveal the anchorman sitting at his desk. "Following President Hayes world changing announcement we have made several attempts to get an off-world report involving the war. Today a recording was given to us by the United States Airforce. It is from our reporter Norman Reign. A word of warning, the following images contain both explicit language and graphic violence that may not be suitable for all viewers; the severest cases have still been censored." The anchorman finished. He shuffled his papers as the light over him dimmed and the recording started.

"That light you can see in the distance. That is the enemy." The off screen voice of Norman Reign said. In the distance an orange glow soaked into the sky.

"Will you shut the **** up. And get your ass down." Another off screen voice growled.

"And this is Private Jonathan O'Neill. Any words for home?" Norman asked the camera don't show it but his voice betrayed his amusement.

"What did I just tell you?" Private O'Neill moaned as several other Airmen chuckled.

Their banter was ruined as a pillar of the most terribly beautiful green Norman had ever seen erased a building beside them. Norman, and his camera stared at the building behind them, when it started to disintegrate as wisps of green touched it. A startled shout echoed through the silence. Private O'Neill swore heavily as he started firing at something Norman couldn't see. Peaking over the top of the wall they had been sitting behind he saw a literal carpet of blue bugs moving towards him. The whine and click of the Replcions' movements almost overpowering the continuous roar of gun fire. A dust cloud followed behind the swarm, shrouding the flames that still burned around the crash site. The leading edge of the horde crumpled and died as concentrated weapon's fire tore them apart.

"Grenades!" Someone shouted and Norman was forced to duck as shrapnel tore into the genocidal machines.

"That is the enemy. The race known to us only as the Replicons..." He was broken from his musings when an I.G.L. rifleman grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved a P-90 into his chest.

Norman lifted his shaking hands up. A debate had raged at CNN for several hours whether or not to censor the blood. He was breathing heavily, so heavily that the gun fire couldn't mask it from the camera's microphone. "I'm not supposed to fight!" He screamed at the rifleman.

The non-Terran simply laughed at him before he threw a grenade over the wall. Sooner than Norman could throw the weapon away he was hauled to his feet by the surprisingly strong Private O'Neill.

"Defend yourself. 'Cause they don't give a **** if you don't!" Private O'Neill hissed at the journalist. This was one of the reasons he hated them; in both his lives.

The camera panned out over the killing field as Norman's head did. A wall of blue blocks had built up on the ground, even some grey ones were mixed in. The Replicons continued to pour over the rampart of their own dead. A second pillar of Gauss smashed into a part of the town's wall. The audio died for a second as several Airmen and a few I.G.L. screamed as they were flayed apart. The bodies were indistinct blurs to the audience but the dark shapes of the thrashing soldiers could be made out under the green haze.

"This is ground forces to Mysterious Typhoon. We need support. Enemy contains Authen only. Repeat Authen only. No Neos sighted." A Sergeant screamed into his radio even as he fired one handily into the oncoming mass.

The Replicons continued to pour over the landscape. The Naquadah was scare here and iron was best they could find. The Link calculated that like many of the ex-Goa'uld planets the human settlement would be built over a precious metal source. The single surviving Neo Replicon hissed as another beam of light pierced the sky and prevented its weaker Authen kin from encircling the humans. It ignored the sounds of battle as it turned to the charred remains of the ship it had spawned from. A single Heavy Gauss Cannon remained flung far from the wreckage. The weapon was carried on the backs of several Authens which rotated the device towards the best target as they awaited the Necrodermis infested Replicon to prepare. After restoring some of its energy it once again plugged itself into the device. The clear chamber sparked with green lightening as the charge built.

O'Neill screamed in pain as several blocks impaled themselves into his left arm. He ripped them out with a snarl and blew the offending Replicons into their component blocks. Next to him his adopted journalist was giving a good account of himself. It was the situation where spraying the bullets into your enemy like a 1930's gangster was appropriate. The constant talking to the camera attached to his helmet was annoying but it seemed to keep the man from hysterics, so it was acceptable. The Replicon block wall was actually working as a good defence. The bugs were unstable on the pile of shifting blocks. The I.G.L. had finally finished evacuating the civilians. Loss of life was minimal for engaging such a ruthless enemy at such close range. Everything was looking up. That's why he was so very worried.

Norman was scared shitless. He mumbled sweet nothings to his audience telling them of things he had learnt about the Imperium. For the sixth time his clip clicked empty; O'Neill was firing like a master, one or two bullets to a single bug-like machine, so he had some ammo to spare.

"Fall back!" Someone screamed over the gun fire. The wall of blocks was now reaching the town's wall as the tiny machines threw themselves at the defenders.

Norman blinked in surprise for a second before he looked over the battle line. The twin holes in the wall made by the Gauss blasts were filled with dead bodies in differing stages of dismemberment. The men having sold their lives to plug up the holes. Norman snapped his head away fighting the urge to vomit. Suddenly a feeling of intense weight came over him. It was like the very air was pushing him down. To the audience it seemed that the world shook and rubble began to rise. Forcing his head upwards he saw the underside of the Lady Ceras breaking through the angry clouds. A Sergeant and the majority of the squad O'Neill had joined up with stared up in wonder as the ship descended. Speaking of the young Private; he had just tripped the Sergeant and forced everyone else down by either pushing or a quick trip. Norman twisted under the hand that held him to the ground. His camera recorded a wave spreading out from the ship that washed over the small city and barren lands beyond. The noise that Norman was sure would haunt his dreams for eternity stopped as the strange wave washed over the world.

Norman felt the hand leave his head. He looked up to the scared and worried faces of the other Airmen as O'Neill was chewed out by the Sergeant. The teenager, flippant as ever, seemed to ignore the officer.

"What have you got to say for yourself?" The older man demanded. Both proper military protocol and his pride demanded that the young Private be disciplined for daring to strike a superior.

With a sigh the source of the Sergeants anger answered. "The concussive wave and anti-g field can break your spine if it comes in to fast." He responded pointing with his gun at the hovering ship.

The Sergeant spluttered for a second before glaring and walking away. The others smiled at the young boy. They recognised good intentions when they saw it. Norman smiled before turning towards the now still carpet of blue and grey blocks.

"As you can see the enemy has been pushed back for now but with so much loss of life can we..." He stopped when an arc of Gauss ripped into the startled defenders. Much screaming was censored by the studio as the emerald flames consumed buildings and people with ease.

"With me!" Surprisingly it was O'Neill who was shouting. Norman found himself obeying without question the boy half his age. The Private just seemed to excrete charisma and none of the Airforce soldiers were unaffected. They charged after him sure that the reason was just.

The Neo Replicon tumbled out of the device before it was consumed by the energy hungry cannon. Quickly it began to replicate more blocks. Half its body was scattered around it. The Gauss cannon was immobile. And the Necrodermis didn't have enough energy to replicate never mind reenergise the blocks. It had little time before another anti-Replicator disruptor wave hit. That blast would surely finish it off.

Scrambling up the wall of Replicon dead O'Neill scanned the horizon for the sight of the Gauss cannon. Norman who had followed intent on not missing a heartbeat of the action stopped and stared. Atop a pile of blocks highlighted by the still burning remains of the Replicon ship, one arm blood stained the other holding his weapon; Private O'Neill looked like a hero more fit for children's stories than the news. It was epic and Norman was capturing ever posterity filled moment of it.

Movement caught his eye. Several of the bugs were racing towards him. He pushed down the revulsion he felt for the machines and opened fire. Three of the grey Replicons died, blasted apart just as the following squad crested the hill. O'Neill was already half way down charging towards where he thought he saw them come from. His hand was already on his radio. He just needed the visual.

Norman reached the top of the Replicon hill just after the Airmen he was following. Another wave of anti-Replicator distortion washed over the land. A mirco-second later a Lance blast pierced the sky and annihilated a patch of earth some distance from the downed ship. Everything was still for a second as the blinding light cleared.

"We won?" Norman asked with trepidation. Several other squads of Airmen and I.G.L. had run up the hill to see what all the commotion was about.

"Victae za Aquilus Augem (Victory for the Gold Eagle)!" Echoed down the line. The Terran soldiers trying to imitate the shout as best they could much to the amusement of the I.G.L.

"We won!" A soldier shouted beside him in English. He suddenly found himself embraced in a crushing bear hug as the huge ex-Jaffa swung him around like a toy. Jonathan O'Neill snorted in humour as he watched the annoying journalist. He was lying at the bottom of the hill of blocks and had no intention of moving until the medics found him. Lance strikes could be a bitch if you were too close.

The image from Norman's camera froze on the celebrating soldiers as they nearly danced upon the Replicon block hill. If the remains had been organic the scene would have been regarded as the height of barbarism. Dancing on the corpses of the enemy was not done. But no one really cared for the death dealing machines.

The CNN logo flashed up again and when it retreated the anchorman was revealed at his desk and pleasant smile on his face. "As you can see victory is not impossible. We can win. This station urges everyone willing and able to join up and help as they can. Our survival is being fought and bled for among the stars it's only proper we should do our part. For the rest of Norman Reign's report visit our website. A re-cap on the headlines: The Chinese government introduces genetically engineered crops with a fifty percent increase in yield, the hole in the ozone layer is plugged by a UV radiation shield, the first Terran commercial flight leaves the Sol system, a space habitat on the Moon; now more commonly referred to as Luna is established, the Asgard Remnant uses cloning technology to re-forest several ecologically destroyed areas. Just in; a new class of ship hailed as the Terran Avengers has just been launched. More on this later. We wish you a good night. Homus Victae (Victory for Man)." The anchorman concluded in rather poorly translated Gothic.

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"Incoming wormhole!" Shouted Chuck. As the Atlantis Gate began responded to the incoming sub-space signal.

Marines rushed to their posts ready to give their lives defending the Ancient city. The wormhole activated its usual vortex contained by the Lantean's energy shield. Everyone tensed for a second as the computers registered the radio signals that were being sent through from what appeared to be Earth.

"IDC confirmed... its Earth!" Chuck shouted startled. Everyone who heard the proclamation grew worried. Why was Earth contacting them? Unless something terrible had happened. The collective anxiety grew as the first figure started to materialise.

Stein strode out of the Stargate. He scanned the faces around him. Most seemed filled with worry that was quickly turning to curiosity as they looked him over. The Marine moved to the side the Chain Sword and Bolt Pistol attached to his waist not going unnoticed by anyone. Elisabeth Weir was once again focused on the event horizon as a second body started to emerge. She gasped as the bound figure fully materialised. She had only seen him in pictures but he was unmistakable. The arrogance he exuded even in chains was extraordinary.

Ba'al scanned over the assemble Tau'ri or Terrans as they were now known as now. He quickly located their leader, Elisabeth Weir, deciding to have a little fun he winked at the startled woman before moving over towards the Astarte that was literally itching to kill him. Sometimes it was the little things that made him happy. Them and galactic domination.

Everything was getting very surreal. A Goa'uld was standing beside a Space Marine and the parasite wasn't being carved into fillets. Some bad crap was going down. So when General Hammond exited the Gate he received less of a welcome than he was expecting. The two SGC personnel behind him were practically ignored. Gauds never attracted fame, only bullets.

"Hello General Hammond." Weir said with forced cheer. "What brings you to my neck of the empire?"

"We have important information." Was Hammond's curt answer. He nodded his head towards Ba'al who offered a mocking wave in return. Hammond internally sighed. Why couldn't the damn man just stay dead?

"Briefing room." Weir all but ordered. Hammond nodded in agreement before gesturing for the two men behind him to 'escort' Ba'al. Stein looked far too eager to blast the Snake into the next millennium to be useful. Not that he had any problems with that. But it would have to wait until the Goa'uld spilled his guts. Hopefully literally.

Ba'al was having the time of his life. Well not exactly, the time of this body was more appropriate. After all no one enjoys being in chains. So this was the City of the Ancients that had Anubis so worked up. It looked nice and all; but he was wondering how much weapons technology the glittering metropolis held. The ex-god to millions was guided into a rather plush chair without much need for physical force, much to Stein's disappointment.

"What is the emergency?" Weir demanded as soon as the shutter like doors had hissed closed.

"There is a Goa'uld in the Expedition Force." Hammond all but shouted. The very thought that even one of the parasites had alluded them and the Imperium was terrifying.

"So that's why he's here." Weir nodded towards Ba'al who grinned at her. "Is he safe?"

"Oh yes my dear." Ba'al replied in his most civil tone. "This prevents me from doing anything... untoward." He finished with a smirk that would have been more at home on the devil as he revealed a black collar around his neck.

"What is that?" Weir enquired, not quite trusting the Goa'uld's response.

"A miniature Void shield generator. He moves to far away from this." General Hammond supplied showing a small white ring on his finger. "He gets it in the neck." The grin on Hammond's face would have broken most men, but Ba'al thought it looked rather nice.

"Alas it is true. It seems that you Tau'ri think sanctuary is in the form of chains." The Goa'uld System Lord quipped with false sorrow rattling his bindings.

"Silence. Your existence is an affront to the Emperor. If we hadn't already freed the soul of the shell you wear then I would rip you out myself." Stein growled at the parasitic alien.

"Okay now about this Goa'uld." Weir inquired, ignoring the Marine and Goa'uld as they silently warred with one another.

"Speak." General Hammond all but hissed at the last of this species of accursed enemies.

"Suen was one of my followers who upon hearing about my untimely demise tried to take over my forces. Of course they wouldn't listen to him. I was defeated by the Marines and our laws state that their god was now the Emperor. Funny that we never thought it would be used against us. So he went into hiding trying to bring down the Imperium from within. Upon hearing about the Replicon invasion and your expedition to Pegasus he got the idea that he could let them kill you all and then take over. Unfortunately for us he is; how do you say 'bat shit insane'." The Goa'uld lectured with his surprisingly good impersonation of a New Yorker. Probably because that's where he'd been hiding mused Hammond. "Anyway he believes that he is a true god. I think being around Anubis gave him that final shove over the edge. So he plans to have us all murdered. I on the other hand know I'm limited to this mortal coil and have no intention of getting flayed into my composite atoms."

"We'll have a Puddle Jumper ready for you in an hour. If this is true it would be best for you not to state your intent until you're aboard the Ragnarok." Weir said as she rose from her seat.

"Good. Astarte Stein please escort our guest to the Mess. I'm feeling peckish." Hammond ordered with a hint of a smile at the annoyed look on Ba'al's face.

"I want to look at the weapons." The Goa'uld quietly grumbled.

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Battle was such a simple thing. You try to kill the enemy; they try to kill you. Simple. Right now Tror wished he could take on the entire Nidhogg race with a plasma pistol and a pointed stick rather than listen to the Furlings attempts to explain itself. There were some things that just didn't translate into neat little riddles; quantum mechanics and the intricacies of time travel were two such things.

So far he had grasped that the strange Alterans were from the future. That one wasn't as much of a shock as it should have been. And that they needed the Furling's weapon to get back. Now that one threw him for a loop.

"Can you send them back?" Tror asked as the first groans came from the humans.

"Yes." The Furling answered after a small pause.

"Then why haven't you?" Tror demanded, he was feeling another headache coming on and arguing with the Furling was going to do him little good.

"Ensnaring Lightening shatters the crest of the Mountains." The Furling answered before turning to the floating device. "Blood calls to blood."

"What the hell happened?" Sheppard moaned into the floor. He felt like he had just hit with the Ragnarok.

"I believe we were subjected to a Psychic assault. Courtesy of our Furling host." Vanem answered. The Marines had been listening in on the Furling's jumbled attempts to communicate its understanding of the mess they were in. It had seemed an accurate description when the translations were properly analysed.

"Why do I feel like I was just hit by a planet?" Carter asked struggling to even make her muscles twitch.

"It is time." The Furling's translator whispered.

"Then." Tror said nodding towards the Imperials.

"Child of Iron are you ready?" Was the reply.

"For what?" Tror was very confused, something that seemed to be a constant for him now. And it had started as such a nice and simple suicide mission.

"The future."

The Alteran Adrimal watched as another wave of his ships fell into formation. His fleet's defensive posture was ready to spring into a fluid attack the moment the Furling Battleship arrived. The Furling request for cover was all well and good but without that component all they were doing was watching a monster gorge itself.

Space split open. Out of the hyperspace window a ship of sky blue crystal soared. At three kilometres long and a shape like two cones stuck together the Furling Battleship was unmistakable. Unlike the Mayyit that was awaiting them in the engine room of the Aquila a cloud of dark blue instead of purple swirled at the ships heart. Encased in the 'tail' of the Furling ship was the hazy outline of a cube.

The Alteran Admiral stared at the odd ship. A race that could change their forms at will and used themselves for space travel still left him a little envious. His communication officer registered a transmission from the Furlings a second latter.

"The Boulder is done." The Alteran Admiral glanced at his second in command who shrugged in response.

Sheppard watched as a black box almost as large as he was flashed into existence in front of him. The Furling who just moments ago had started to make noises that brought forth such sorrow moved towards the crate.

"Let lances clash. Resonance and temperance. " Sang from the communication terminal. No one paid it any heed as the Furling's arms nimbly removed the crate's contents. A tiny perfect sphere; blacker than space and only the size of an apple.

"That's it?" Carter asked with such reverence that Sheppard thought she would worship the thing.

"Yes."

She recognised the attack before a single weapon had been fired. Across her flanks rows upon rows upon rows of powerful muscles spasmed. Spines larger than some Alliance Battleships were flung out into the void in a cloud so thick that it obscured the Progenitor Hive. Pores that released spores spat forth the dangerous organic weapons again. Sacs filled with gases started to ionise in preparation.

Alteran and Asgard ships swerved and dodged in a display of inter-fleet coordination that looked more like a choreographed dance than battle manoeuvres. The Furling Battleship simply ploughed on, to slow to follow the dance. A halo of blinding light surrounded the ship as the Furlings that made it up deflected the Progenitors assault. Awyn watched as Alteran ships were speared from multiple vectors and Asgard Battlecruisers were torn open by plasma blasts. Seven Alteran ships made an attack run on the Progenitor only to be swarmed by spores; not even wreckage remained. Asgard crews fought to the last man, even as their ships tore themselves apart, every single weapon that could poured death into the Progenitor Hive. Hyperdrives detonated as crews sold their lives to clear the sky of projectiles. A constant stream of weaponry from the Progenitor Hive joined the beams and pulses of the Alliance, creating a halo of utter destruction around the massive beast. Tiny silver and brown dots swarmed as they danced and died. Chartreuse lights shrouded the stars themselves. Bio-plasma and plasma bolts filled the space and burned like a new stars.

Lights flashed and beams of destruction laced the sky. Her hands danced across the controls as the Aquila's cannons incinerated several spines that threatened to gore them. A single tear traced down the Nox's face, she felt the hate and fear and sorrow born from the conflict. Her people had always been peaceful unless angered but even now their righteous anger was rotting them away. It was their way to try and understand, to bring morality to the Universe; but the Hunokel was so far beyond morality.

"So we can go home?" Sheppard, his voice filled with trepidation, asked the Furling as it crooned to the machines.

"Yes." The six eyed head turned towards the Imperials. "The Sea will erode much of the Mountains work. Their ignorant flaws have been embraced." It answered.

"Is it ready yet!" Screamed the old Alteran over an open channel. "The fleet is been cut to ribbons."

"The Mayyit delays. Why?" A baritone series of noises floated from the communication point before the machine translated them.

"The evanescence of worldly things." The Furling replied to the question.

"Fly until your silent end Mayyit. Join that which is Belshanior." The translator said before the transmission was cut.

"Child of Iron; dance with Lightening." The grin that split Tror's face even startled the two Marines.

"For the Empire!" The Asgard roared before sprinting out of the engine room.

"The unending Wind. Transposition ignites." The Furling that was once Belshanior told the Imperials.

"Okay." Sheppard said slowly, his head felt like it was just about to explode. Davidenko on the other hand seemed to be better, now that the Furling was no longer in her mind.

"Stay." The suited creature commanded as it left the engine room, black sphere in mechanical hand.

The Imperials looked at each other before they felt the Alteran ship lurch forward.

Tulinen and Tror were living it up. The Alteran soldiers on the other hand seemed to be terrified. Awyn was back to being neutral now that she had a task to accomplish. The Aquila lunged forward, main cannons vaporising a cloud of spores. Secondary weapons ripped into the maelstrom of Progenitor weaponry that surrounded it. Spores flashed out of existence as the complex synaptic pathways that allowed the Hive Mind to be channelled were fried by Alteran weapons. Spines bigger than the ship were sliced apart as the vessel took to its deadly mission.

The attention of the Progenitor was attracted by the charging ship. With a flicker of its mind hundreds of spores raced towards the tiny prey. Chartreuse haloed spores screamed through the void. Ships sold their lives to deflect the swarm, weapon fire ripped apart the organic munitions, blasts of Furling energy left them dead in space but still the swarm wasn't thinned. The Aquila dove sharply to avoid several of the spores. The mass of light turned to follow; tendrils broke away and tried to surround the Alteran ship. Point defenses tore into the pursuing spores and the Aquila raced towards the Progenitor. Several spores clipped the mid-sections blowing gaping holes in the supper structure. Crystallized air and a few Alterans unlucky enough to survive the Warp enhanced hits were flung into the void. The Aquila was listing to the side but still managed toline up with the Progenitor Hive's thorax and accelerated to ramming speed.

"Impact in fifty seconds!" Tror roared over the howl of decompressing air.

"Activate." The Furling sang as the bulkheads slammed shut. The black orb in its hands folded in on its self defying the laws of nature as it reduced its self to imaginary numbers. It felt the twisting of the world as the Alteran modifications changed the device. With a mental sigh it felt the red female's mind vanish.

"Today is a good day to die!" Tulinen roared. His sentiment was mimicked by Tror and to a lesser extent by the Alterans.

"No. Not yet." The Furling whispered as white light overtook it.

The Progenitor Hive had enough time to witness the sphere of blindingly pure white light as it expanded from the tiny prey that had pierced her defences. She even had enough time to feel her body ceasing to exist as the light touched her. The other prey dotted the sky like stars. Just out of reach. With a silent roar of fury she embraced the death of her species. The orb expanded beyond her sensory nodes and she knew no more.