"Normal speech"

"Gothic around non-Imperials."

"Mental Links." Or some words from the Beta.

"Ship Names."

Well we're back. Sorry again for the delay; me and the Beta were very busy. But as a sorry it the longest chapter, again. Enjoy!

AngelForm: Thanks. If the C'tan had gotten loose everyone would be screwed. Period. It had mastery over time and a nice big lump of insanity to match. So better a swift take down rather than the unwinnable battle. Plus if you think about it most of the crap they went through in this book was just to get to the C'tan; so in essence it's been the hardest bad guy to kill ever. The Zerfàrim reactions are fun to write. They are so small but have such large egos it's a bit amusing to see them realise the true scope of the Imperium. McKay vs. Progenitor would equal the apocalypse. If I did match the two up it would be just a continuous string of reality manipulation and energy beams. And if I tried to write such a thing I'm certain my head would explode or I end up declaring myself god-emperor of pancakes. In all fairness it would be cool to watch but I prefer the 'Heroes' desperately fighting against the Tyranid horde to throwing around planets and such. Firepower, always firepower.

Huitt1989: Thanks. I hope you enjoy this just as much. Courage is the mastery of fear, not the absence of it.

Xeno Major: Thank you. Well it goes like this. As far as anyone knows the Ancients created them to fight the Wraith. And Wraith can sense where humans (and other Xenos), beings with a relatively undeveloped Warp connection. Even more so with Ancients due to their more pronounced Warp presence. So a way around this to maintain the Zerfàrim stealth? Simply remove their Warp connections. It also prevented the rather deadly notion of messing around with the Immaterium. Every attempt at that point had cost at least a solar system up to the extermination of entire races. At that point in time Lantean experimentation with the Realm of Demons had so far been successful in elevating a mind to a form of omnipotence that led to insanity or death. As you can agree not a useful trait in soldiers. The Zerfàrim themselves are just like the Necrontyr now; alive but no Warp signature. There is also a deeper element to this. As Zerfàrim were created after the Asurans and the projects on Ego Asorda so the Ancients didn't want another synthesised race to escape their control or rise to a point where they could challenge them for dominance. The last thing you need is a bunch of crazed warriors/zombie-beasts, which you engineered to take down foes you couldn't, trying to kill you. So they stagnated the Zerfàrim evolution. The Zerfàrim don't think anything of it because there are no Psyker races in Pegasus other than the Wraith and the Wraithkin. I hope that answers why the Eldar aren't Psykers. The light is within us.

Senrab Nomis: Thanks. Àsthar thinks the Imperial are pillagers because they are very aggressive (Angelus) and they have a wide and often mismatched range of technologies. It's also the only way she can reconcile the idea of a large human empire. She is jaded by the stereotype that humans are too feebleminded to do anything but bully those weaker than themselves. Pegasus humans are normally very cowed remember. The Asgard problem is on its way to being solved. They have two perfectly healthy Proto-Asgard now. Faith without deeds is worthless.

Thrans: Cheers. Your freedom must be bought with the currency of blood, toil and tears, a price all men pay.

Arankor: Thank you very much. I have to say that that I agree that the author just making things up and then treating them like cannon is one of the things that can kill a story. I myself find it fun to mesh the two histories, technologies and pseudo-physics together. It's like one giant puzzle I get to work on in my mind. I'm glad you enjoyed that, I always find cultural misunderstandings funny when they are small things like that. Anything more and it may become depressing or too major a plot point. Faith grows from the barrel of a gun.

Starspawn07: Okay the Zerfàrim. They were created after the Asurans, Ega Asorda experiments and a few other warrior races (all dead) and the Lantean Council felt that a direct approach had failed so they must try a more subtle one. The whole idea behind their creation was to keep the Wraith busy or at least on their toes while the Lanteans rebuilt their armies. However that never came to pass, the Lanteans chickened out and left. Ouch for the Zerfàrim.

I don't like Eldar. They are just too arrogant for their own good. And I see so many people saying how that makes them mysterious and interesting when all its about is that they can't let go of the past. It kind of pisses me off. Well, I like Eldar. But I do agree that the whole "Oh, we`re so mysterious and SO much better......" thing is more sad than mysterious. Also you might have noticed that the Zerfàrim are different.

McKay god-modes stuff because he is a god (demi-god) but there are consequences they just haven't manifested themselves properly yet. I've been hinting at it for some time after all. The C'tan was already restrained and weakened; it was a very one sided fight. McKay's not intended to be a Deus Ex Machina, I know I use him as one sometimes, his purpose is more for what is coming than the Replicon war (and a dialogue on the effects of power on the human psyche). In actual fact he only seems to get off lightly because no one's been ready to fight him. If you remember every time he has faced off against an opponent that was able and willing to take him down (basically Levi) he was utterly owned. I totally know what you mean, they could have done so much more with the Corruption system; ah well. No man died in His service that died in vain.

skipper 1337: Close but no cigar. I don't want to ruin it but you are very close. The Replicons are just too dangerous to be let loose like that. If one block gets away, just one then its game over. I like the Mark IX idea sounds suitable gory to be included. Thus you have the sublime honour of giving the 'name' to my newest WSMD (weapon of super massive destruction). The Mark IV anti-planetary torpedo. The Imperium records everything; it's one of the benefits of having a Librarian as one of the founding leaders. In the next chapter we'll get to see some of it being used as posturing with the Zerfàrim Council. Has anyone ever wondered just what the extermination of the Aschen looks like or maybe the purging of the Reetou rebels? Ba'al is one of my all time favourite villains. Of course, who could disagree there? He'll be sticking around for a while at least. He has enough juicy info tucked away in his mind to keep the Imperium interested for years. I have a plan, wait and see.

While Anubis did take a Necron Gauss Flayer and a small piece of research on the C'tan he never developed Necrodermis. But being half Ascended he is trapped as unstable energy matrix, similar to a very weak demon that is fading back into the Warp only he can't fade. As it stands the Imperium can't get at him and he can't get at them. For now. The Yggdrasill is an idea that occurred to me when I was researching the Machine Spirits in Titans. A Titian Machine Spirit is almost sentient but you are right a fully sentient A.I. is the highest of heresy in the Machine Cult in all but one case. I was hoping someone would guess where I was going with it but no one did. The only time a fully sentient Machine Spirit was accepted by the Machine Cult was in a Standard Template Construction machine.

And yes after She finished feeding the Progenitor is heading to find and take out the strongest foe in the galaxy (according to the Zerfàrim at least). The Asgard now have to Proto-Asgard to experiment on both of which have already agreed (a little unwittingly) to be Thor's test subjects. Damn you got me. Seeing as we are nearly at the end of this book any larger classes won't be appearing until later, however they will kick ass. Behold the revelation of the I-303B Terran Avenger! An Eye for an Eye.

"Next time I see that man, I'll have him shot. Or I'll have myself have him shot. That doesn't make any sense!" The newly minted Master Sergeant O'Neill grumbled quietly to himself as he wandered towards the bridge. He tapped the sheathed Power Sword at his side for the hundredth time.

Landry after being briefed on the young clone's rather unique status had developed a small but malevolent glint in his eye. The gossip within the circles that knew about both Landry's displeasure with the post he had been tricked into and the fact Private O'Neill was actually Supreme Commander O'Neill (sort of) was that the unfortunate teenager had become the target of Landry's by proxy vengeance. Of course the young man's feats had become legendary after Norman Reign's rather colourful attachment to his side. The journalist had latched onto O'Neill like a leech and followed the young man through fire and death. Said journalist was now in the process of buying a small island with the near ludicrous fortune he made selling his videos and story. When O'Neill was finally recalled to Earth after another failed attempt by the Replicons to strike at several minor shipyards it was much to his chagrin to find that he had become the unofficial 'face' of the war. If it there was one thing Jonathan O'Neill was not; it was a poster boy. Landry in all his near biblical power as leader of the SGC had quickly promoted the clone to Master Sergeant and given him the dubious honour of being made the Terran representative attached to Battlefleet Solar.

The young O'Neill had quickly learnt this involved a rather hurried introduction to the Machine Cult, Imperial Navy operations and a very annoyed Beyla giving a tedious explanation of exactly how not to vaporise a six kilometre Battleship by accidently pushing the wrong button. He had pondered for a moment about asking if she could clone a spare Carter. All the techno-babble hurt his head damn it! He was then placed on the Star Cutter a Ragnarok class Battleship that was crewed by a mixture of Jaffa, Simarkans and Volians. The Volians after their liberation from the Aschen had quickly become fiercely loyal to the Imperium and the survival of their race. After being driven to near extinction by the Aschen they had collectively vowed that never again would they suffer such a fate. A Volian soldier was almost as fanatical as a fully converted Jaffa which made them dangerously effective soldiers. Being non-believers they viewed O'Neill as a symbol of Terran authority and simply left him alone. The Jaffa almost worshiped the ground he walked on. The converted legions of the Goa'uld viewed him as a blessing from the Emperor. The Simarkans were a different story; the descendents of the peoples of the steppes had fallen under Imperial rule after a quick demonstration of what a Las rifle could do to a horse at almost five hundred paces. Many of the more opened minded ones rejoiced at this new culture; however it wasn't them but the ones that sought battle that joined the I.G.L. The Simarkans on the Star Cutter viewed the dispatch of a mere boy to oversee such 'great' warriors as a personal insult. They treated O'Neill like they would an old and much hated enemy. They took any chance to torment the young man which led to many fights with the Jaffa who believed that any attack upon a human blessed enough to have walked the sacred ground of Terra was an attack upon Him. It wasn't until he threatened to space the lot of them and then burn all their villages to the ground that they began to respect him.

The Star Cutter and its escorts of two Orillias and six Terran Defenders were awaiting the arrival of their reinforcements. The Asgard in the Ultima Segmentum had stepped up production of ships by beaming out the raw Naquadah, Neutronium and Trinium. Entire continental shelves had collapsed as the heavy minerals that had supported them for countless millions of years suddenly vanished. The devastation was extreme and in some cases would take generations to fix but it had given the Navy more ships to play with. A new battle group was going to take the place of the Star Cutter's allowing the collection of ships to move to the front lines. O'Neill readjusted his cap, one of the Simarkans had put it through the waste disposal system and the machinery had mangled it. His attempted repairs had proven once and for all that sewing was not one of his strong points. The front of the cap was now far larger than the back giving it a silly looking point; he had added a Second Imperial Aquila basically to fill the large space.

Space blossomed into four hyperspace windows and spat out an equal number of Terran Avengers. O'Neill couldn't help himself and snorted as the ungainly ships turned towards them. The Avenger was born of desperation and the inherent insanity that seemed to infect the SGC.

The Nova Cannon was holding back the Replicons but they, for the moment, could only be mounted on the Ragnarok class. Then someone had hit upon the idea of making the Cannon mountable on the Cruiser's hull. The work proceeded at a frenzied pace but they could never solve the power problems without disabling the ship after firing. Then another bright spark had noted that they could replicate the results with torpedoes. So another frantic round of research began to increase the yield of the deadly weapons. Then Doctor Lee in all his bizarreness hit upon the answer. Spamming.

The story presented to the Generals was nice and did much to ensure Lee's job for the rest of his life but O'Neill knew better than that. After asking around he had come across the truth. Lee had been checking his e-mail in the lab after another failed attempt to boost the explosive potential of the plasma core in a torpedo when he found that he had received at least thirty e-mails about Viagra, chickens, several Nigerians petitioning for money and a strange Russian doctor who claimed to be able to raise the dead. Lee had stared at the screen for a moment before launching himself in the air screaming incoherently. It had taken ten minutes and a Space Marine to get him to calm down enough to share his thoughts. And so the Avenger, which unbeknownst to O'Neill was named after Felger's untested Stargate virus, was born.

The Cruiser class ships shared the same central superstructure as the Defenders. However the frontal Lance had been removed and replaced with small hangers. The flight decks either side of the engines that were the trademark of the I-303A had been replaced with a large blocky structure. This block was actually a platform for a four by four torpedo launcher. At first the Asgard had thought the design too simple but after the prototype butchered over seven Dirges class Replicon ships in ten minutes they were once again reminded just why humanity was the Fifth Race. In total the Avenger could launch thirty two torpedoes in a single volley, which exceeded the full first strike capability of an Orillia Battleship. The massive increase of weight at the stern had led to the ship being a rock in terms of manoeuvrability when compared to the Defender or even the Battleships. But six ships working in teams of two could create a crossfire that no Replicon ship had survived contact with. The class of Cruiser was useless against singular ships but large, close packed, fleets were doomed if they couldn't disrupt the small squadron's formation. O'Neill's musings on the pros and cons of the new Cruisers were interrupted by a confused officer.

"Sir incoming transmission from Terra." The woman said as Landry's face appeared on the screen.

The Ragnarok transitioned into real space almost inside the atmosphere of Lantea. The mighty Battleship didn't even bother decelerating while it transmitted a single sentence, scooped up a ZPM and swapped several people around. Before Elizabeth Weir could finish reading the small sentence the Ragnarok had jumped back into hyperspace travelling at a truly insane velocity in the vague direction of Earth.

"What was that about?" Ba'al drawled peering inquisitively over Weir's shoulder. What he saw made his eyes flash in joy and a smirk normally reserved for his defeated foes to crawl across his face. "I suppose that this means we win?"

Everyone ignored the Goa'uld as the Atlantis Gate room exploded into joyous cheering. The surprise of seeing several people vanish into the now familiar flash of the Asgard transporters faded as the realisation of what it meant. The entire city erupted into celebration by the time the Battleship had left the Lantea system.

Tror blinked uncertainly as he was surrounded by screaming humans waving around aluminium cups. The Alteran, no human he corrected himself, beside him yawned lazily. "Stick with me while we find your friends." The man said before mixing into the crowd muttering about vodka. Tror shrugged lightly, from what he had learnt these humans were friends of the Asgard Empire. The genetically stable Asgard warrior stole a large clear bottle from a pilot who was currently singing and dancing along with another twenty or so others. Tror downed half the bottle of moonshine in one shot before nodding appreciatively, it was only a good drink if you lost the feeling in your feet, and followed after Titov.

Hammond tilted his head and scratched at his bald scalp. The creature before him was unlike anything he had seen or read about before. And that was saying a lot. The fact that it was standing on the briefing table just added to surrealism.

"The king rides forth. Beating his armour and sleeping in shadow. Clutching their hearts they walk proud. The Unborn God shall sing. The apotheosis of murder. Constant multiplication of death." The Furling moved gracefully of the table. Its six eyes scanned over the assortment of papers its spindly legs swept over. It gaze fell on a rather detailed picture of the Progenitor Hive.

"What are you?" Àsthar asked slightly annoyed at being interrupted. She was trying, unsuccessfully, to make the humans see reason. There was no way in this galaxy that one of their ships would be allowed within a light minuet of Zerfàron before a treaty was signed.

The sound the large creature made almost had Hammond in tears. "Alone."

"That doesn't answer the question." Àsthar growled. "Is it one of yours?" She rounded on Hammond who shrugged in response.

"Not as far as I know." The aged General responded diplomatically. With the rate the Imperium seemed to be picking up new species, planets and allies it was entirely possible that O'Neill now ruled over a race of tiny elves that could fly on leaves and shoot fire from their eyes. The thought made him shudder.

"The arrangement of Iron. Terminations." The Furling said with a nod of its multi-eyed head.

Àsthar was quickly approaching the end of her patience. The obstinate humans were wearing on her nerves and the meaningless time wasting uttering's of this thing that had randomly appeared was one step too far. "Would you leave! This has nothing to do with you." She snapped, feeling slightly better after her outburst.

The Mayyit's graceful movement ceased with a sudden jerk. Inside its protective shell the Furling felt a single emotion overrule the normal maelstrom of pain and sorrow. Anger swelled inside Belshanior for the first time since its 'death'. Nothing to do with it! Almost an entire third of the Furling race had perished to the assault of Lightening. Although they had abandoned it, Belshanior still held the fierce pride of its race. Pride that had looked down on all organics. And now one had the gall to say the Furlings had nothing to do with this war. It seemed these lowly creature needed to be reminded of their place. A small part of Belshanior noted that it really had nothing to do with how the Wind fought. But it had just learned its race was as good as dead, their works lost to the ages, their pride meaningless and the sacrifices they made all but forgotten. So its reaction was understandable, in some ways.

Power poured off the crystalline body, the suit so used to blocking the psychic outpouring of grief fought valiantly to shield the outside world from the powers of the Warp. It never really stood a chance; as Tror had warned Sheppard an enraged Furling was almost as deadly as a supernova. Despite the best efforts of Furling engineering Hammond still felt a chill run up his spine when the new Xeno slowly turned to face Àsthar and her guards. The air became hazy around the Furling as more and more pure energy bled into the atmosphere in a desperate attempt to dissipate the power pouring out from the Furling.

The Lord Commander shifted slightly as the six blue eyes shrunk to pin pricks of light. The haze around the dark brown machine intensified and she felt her two guards move to protect her. Àsthar gasped as the two Zerfàrim, some of the best Elites on her ship, were callously slammed into the ceiling. The two dropped like rocks, one landed on his front and didn't move the other hit the table with a crack. The Elite groaned but used his still functioning arm to draw his Pulse pistol. The weapon exploded into shrapnel as a bolt of incandescent blue electricity ripped through it and the unfortunate Elite holding it. The male collapsed in a heap just in time for Àsthar to release her own weapon from its holster.

"What is the meaning of this!" She shouted, aiming roughly at both Hammond and the Furling.

"Hollow thing. The Mountain and Lightening always fight. We are eternal. Nothing can stop the Avalanche." Belshanior calmed its self after venting some of the emotions that had been building up in it since the Asgard Thor had shared his knowledge. "You shall struggle against this. Fight and rage and weep. And pain and sufferance shall be your rewards."

"What?" Àsthar hissed as she trained her weapon on the Furling's head, things were spiralling out of control far too fast for her liking.

"The Pebble knows of Lightening. She will rise again." Belshanior sang. It had done damage to the fragile organics; an attempt to apologise was in order. "That which was once Belshanior offers the shelter of the Mountain." The Furling allowed a small tinkle of amusement at the end of the phrase. All the great and mighty Furling Dominion could offer now was the small amount of knowledge Belshanior had on trans-dimensional technology.

"It means it's sorry." A gruff voice said from the doorway. All eyes and eyes pieces turned towards the source of the voice and found two humans and an Asgard warrior.

"Yeah, sorry sir. Everyone was just beamed to the quickest location when the Ragnarok flew by." Sheppard said rather sheepishly, he winced slightly when he glanced at the two downed Zerfàrim and the female with a weapon at the ready.

"It's best not to antagonise them." Tror continued gesturing for Belshanior to come over. The Furling let out a series of forlorn sounds but complied. "They tend to get all worked up easily." The Asgard said smiling disarmingly, or as the near two meter battle loving wall of alien muscle could, at the Lord Commander.

"Very well." Àsthar sighed. The Furling bobbed at her before gliding out the door.

"It a racial thing. They never got along well with organics. Till the Alterans." Tror informed the room full of what he thought was humans.

That was an understatement the Furling Dominion had only 'tolerated' the Nox because they were non-expansionists, roughly technologically equal and in another galaxy. The pitifully few species in the Furling home galaxy that had advanced enough to stray from their home planet were mercilessly taught that space was not theirs to roam. They were too weak to tread the stars and learn of their wonders. The Asgard Empire on the other hand being even further away than the Nox so they only had a history of bushfire wars with the Dominion. After the Nox had introduced the two hoping that showing the relatively young Asgard that they weren't the strongest race marauding through the stars and helping the Furlings interact with a race that could at least fight back when they decided that they needed to degenerate the alien civilisation back to iron-working the most advance science and weapon. It was, of course, for their own good. The two had been in the same room for about two hours before the Asgard were shooting holes in the walls with plasma cannons and the Furlings were just blowing up everything with a pulse. Both species had risen to dominance in their native galaxies by force of arms and shared a similar philosophy that only the strongest should rule. Unfortunately both had their sights on the Milky Way, the largest and most bountiful galaxy in the local group, which caused their many disagreements. The first invasion force from both races had been turned back by the Nox; who had decided to defend the still developing planets until the two super powers could be trusted not to wipe out the primitive life forms. Then the Alterans came and changed everything. As a race the Furlings believed they were superior simply because they were tougher than any organic and shared a communal mind. They could outperform and outthink almost any other race, and being the oldest of the three led them to be arrogance personified. With the Alterans they found a people older and wiser than them and for the first time the Furling race was introduced to beings that could show them the wonders of the Universe renewed. And so the Alterans took over the Nox's roll as in-betweens. The Furlings and Asgard became far more docile when exposed to the Alteran way of life and even the Nox, an already peaceful people, began to shun violence in all its forms. And from that interplay the foundations of the Alliance of Four Great Races were unsteadily laid.

"I see." Àsthar mumbled she was trying to remember what she had said that could have precipitated such a violent reaction. She had neither the time nor the energy to hunt down the Furling and teach it why Zerfàrim where not to be trifled with.

"That was rather unpleasant. Major what are you still doing here?" Hammond grunted; he kept a wary eye on Àsthar who had started tending to her Elites.

"We are looking for Tulinen." Titov replied with a half hearted shrug. Inside his head he was dancing with joy that the Furling hadn't opened its suit again. That was one experience that he was not eager to relive.

"And who is that?" Hammond growled, really this day was quickly becoming just a giant collection of random events strung together. He was too old for this; the General bemoaned to himself.

Sheppard received a rather hard elbow to the ribs before he could answer. "Never mind." He muttered before saluting Hammond and scurrying away after Tror. Titov lazily saluted and sauntered off in Sheppard's direction.

"Why can't things ever be simple?" Hammond muttered. He glanced at the dents in the ceiling and sighed. At least no one had died.

"Because then life would not be any challenge." The Lord Commander smoothly replied to Hammond's rhetorical question. She was satisfied that the Elites would live and now she was more concerned with getting back to Zerfàron and preparing for the coming storm.

Hammond rubbed both his eyes. Angelus had told him to never surrender to the Eldar's trickery. All that had done was waste time. He fully understood why they didn't want a Battleship that had been extremely hostile till about five hours ago hovering over their home world. But he also refused to send a team of his people down onto said previously hostile world. "A compromise then." He said turning the line of thoughts into words. Getting a nod from Àsthar he continued. "The Fenrir will remain at conjunction (directly opposite a planet on the far side of the local star) with you planet." It was at extreme transporter range but they could still extract the negotiators and drop at least one fusion warhead before they had to escape.

Àsthar nodded in agreement. The added distance of the Imperial ship from Zerfàron would give the `Dharis Meonarh (Returning Phoenix) and her escorts time to intercept it if things turned sour. "Agreed."

Àsthar frowned in confusion when the human extended his hand but took it anyway. The human's grip was firm but not painful and Àsthar tried to replicate the effect. If the wince on the old man's face was any indication she had failed. The Zerfàrim fought back the childish glee at being able to overpower her aggravating opponent. She was beginning to warm up to the strange human empire but she still found reassuring herself of Zerfàrim superiority more comforting that anything. Both leaders left the conference room happy that they had gotten the upper hand on the other.

"What were you thinking!" Tror bellowed at his fellow passenger from the past.

The Furling glided over to the Asgard and leaned far into his personal space. Its eyes narrowed dangerously as it regarded the Riddari. "The Mountain is."

Tror sighed as the Furling removed itself from his face. Things were different now and the Asgard feared that he and his companions might not be able to adapt. The Alterans seemed to be fitting in fine with their second evolution. The thought cheered Tror up slightly; it had taken a second evolution before the Alterans had even started to get things right.

"Look; forget it. You're new, stuff happens." Sheppard said while patting the Furling on its oversized shoulder.

"Now can you help us look for Tulinen?" Titov asked, slumping slightly at the thought of combing over the entirety of Atlantis.

"Yes." Belshanior replied with a small bow of its head.

"You know, I haven't seen any of our Asgard since we arrived." Sheppard muttered as they trudged down another corridor.

"Now that you mention it... you don't think?" Titov was staring wide eyed at Sheppard.

"I wouldn't put it past Nanna or Nerthus." Sheppard replied his own face growing as grim.

Both of them bolted off leaving Tror and Belshanior alone in the corridor. The Asgard huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You know I think I kinda preferred eternity in that machine." Tror muttered as the two humans disappeared around a corner.

"Yes."

"So how are we actually going to do this?" McKay asked rolling a large red crystal across a table with a flick of his hand.

"Well..." Carter muttered glancing over McKay's shoulder. "We have a good plan." She said nodding more to herself than him.

"Okay. What?" McKay asked letting the crystal come to a stop.

Carter's eyes shot behind McKay again before she turned to face the Star Vampire hybrid. She smiled warmly at McKay before jumping backwards. "Get him!"

Vultis flew down from the ceiling its rings breaking into their component blocks. The detaching blurs in a flurry of light and grey lumps surrounded McKay. A red blur slammed into his back and before the scientist could react he found himself pinned to the floor by Davidenko. An Ancient pattern shield being projected from the blocks rippled into place a moment later. The Russian smiled apologetically as her Psyker powers flared; suddenly McKay found himself unable to call upon his god like abilities and his Necrodermis enhanced body was only evenly matched with Davidenko's Replicon augmentation. The hologram around his eyes failed as he glared at Carter and Davidenko in turn.

"What are you doing?" He hissed at the two women.

"Sorry Rodney but we need to be sure." Davidenko said trying to ignore the pain her body was in. Levi or Cerberus would have been doing this but Angelus had ordered them to make sure they went with the delegation to the Eldar home world. His reasoning had been along the line that if McKay couldn't be there then he was sending the next best thing. Of course he had no way of knowing that Davidenko would once again be seriously injured by her Replicon cells.

"Sure of what?" McKay asked suddenly unsure of himself; he had become used to being an indestructible juggernaut so now that he was at the mercy of Davidenko, an elite soldier, his old personality was resurfacing. It was an interesting feeling. Though none he especially liked.

"Vultis." Carter ordered. The machine slowly sank through the Ancient shield muttering to itself.

"Oh how you have changed Operator." Vultis lamented swinging around the pair. "It is a most unusual request Adherent. However the information I contain on the D-396 and E-1764 should allow the instillations of this data packet." Ignarus Vultis reassured Carter as it floated to rest in front of McKay's face. "It should be most painful." The machine said without a hint of remorse.

"Just relax Rodney." Davidenko whispered soothingly when McKay tensed up.

"Yes relax. The burns should only cover forty percent of your body." Vultis informed McKay seeking to assuage his concerns. As always it failed spectacularly.

"Burns?" McKay squeaked. It was the reason he was restrained; they needed the entire C'tan waveform downloaded into him and any chance that he might lash out or phase away before the transfer was complete was totally unacceptable.

"Rodney I'm here with you; just relax." Davidenko continued to try and calm McKay.

"Oh my yes! The female will be able to proffer physical comfort afterwards." Vultis chirped seemingly happy with its new idea. It totally missed the Davidenko and McKay's stunned faces or Carter's poorly contained giggling.

Vultis's circular eye became brighter and his side panels changed to a sky blue. McKay had just recovered from the accursed machines poorly delivered innuendo when arcs of lightening flashed out from each of the blocks. McKay and Davidenko sat in the middle of a halo for a moment before McKay began to scream. Davidenko struggled to contain the thrashing scientist as his Necrodermis rippled and morphed attempting to end the source of its host's pain. She was spared from all but a fraction of the pain by her Replicon cells; the most she felt was slight warmth on her skin and a sensation like teleporting. The glowing eye of Vultis almost touched the McKay's pain filled face when a beam of golden light shot out from the now ringless Caminus Animum-252. Carter and Davidenko winced when McKay's screaming increased; the halo of light surrounding the two enhanced humans began to fade as the final process began. Carter jumped as a wave of Necrodermis spikes smashed against the shield.

"Complete." Vultis said happily as the golden light faded. "The target D-396 can now produce the decided on waveform."

"Lilia? Rodney?" Carter asked warily approaching the still active shield.

Vultis was suddenly coated in sparks. The floating machine's internal lights flickered and died as it let out a gurgling death rattle. "I never liked that thing." McKay muttered as the now inactive parts of Vultis clattered to the floor.

"Was that necessary?" Carter asked trying to keep a sense of normality even as her hand floated over the control that would beam the entire room into the intergalactic void.

"No." McKay admitted as he rose to his feet supporting an exhausted but otherwise unharmed Davidenko. "But it made me feel better." He added with a grin.

Carter rolled her eyes as she removed her hand from the Asgard Rune stone. The patches of liquid like Necrodermis that covered chunks McKay's body were already healing him only leaving bloody patches and burn marks on his clothes as proof of his injuries.

"Sir, it's done." Carter said into the Vox at the door.

"Good work Carter. Make sure our pony knows his tricks." O'Neill answered; Carter could hear McKay's scowl from across the room. There was sniggering in the background that sounded a lot like Zelenka and Lorne, McKay made a small mental note to torture them later.

"You just wait Radek; I'm coming for you." McKay grumbled before phasing through the floor intent on taking Davidenko to the infirmary despite her vague and incoherent protests.

A pair of golden eyes flickered up to the cream colourer doorway as it hissed open. A single white eyebrow rose as a younger male stood at attention just beyond it. A body honed by over one hundred years of martial pride relaxed back into a rock hard chair. With a small smile the Zerfàrim gestured at his visitor.

"Lord Commander we have received an urgent report from the Giirathar`Jetai." Làmesh reported swiftly as he strode towards the desk of Lord Commander Asthuùr Tharvèn. The Lord Admiral of the entire Zerfàrim fleet raised his other eyebrow at the declaration.

" What's Sighraè got herself into?" Tharvèn asked, taking the offered report for Làmesh. It had been almost a week since the Giirathar`Jetai had left to help the Kaerathaì Baermon.

"It seems that the information gathering mission to Ortus Veriumas was a complete failure. Of the original mission personnel only thirty six percent survived; mostly wounded. The Giirathar`Jetai's fleet also suffered damage. The Jaun'Àstar was lost with all hands and the remaining Frigates have suffered slight to moderate damage." Làmesh said his eyes betraying his horror at the losses.

Tharvèn began reading Àshar's report his eyebrows rose as he read the confirmed destroyed Wraith Hives. Seventeen was a ridiculously high number and the Cruiser and Dart numbers seemed just as improbable. "Is this accurate?" He asked shooting a sharp look at Làmesh.

"We believe so. Tracking detected thirty or so Wrath Hives approaching Ortus Veriumas at maximum speed. Then an hour later there was a massive energy spike and a greatly reduced number of Hives disseminated into Wraith controlled space. We have been tracking those we can and the Ortus Veriumas Hives appear to be hunting down and gathering the few Hives that didn't attempt to go or didn't make it to this congregation." Làmesh replied smartly. The Wraith's strange behaviour was only the tip of the iceberg. "The most worrying things are here and here." The Commander said pointing at two sections on the report.

Tharvèn's eyes darkened as he read the all the information the Imperium had offered about the Tyranids and their apparent link with the Wraith. He suppressed the cold tingling that ran the length of his spine as he flicked through picture upon picture of desolated worlds. Although never stated the implications that Zerfàron had been targeted for such an event were left hanging. Apparently the Imperials were adamant since the Jaun`Àstar had been boarded it was a good bet that these creatures knew almost everything about the Zerfàrim. Speaking of the Imperials it seemed a delegation was on its way to discuss an alliance. The peaceful gesture was ruined by the fact they were arriving in no less than a fully armed Battleship. The very idea made him frown in confusion; but he trusted Sighraè's judgment. After all she was a fellow Lord Commander.

"What are your commands?" Làmesh asked with bowed head.

"Recall all Fleet elements. Mobilize all military personnel. Move us into a defensive posture and summon the Council." Tharvèn ordered placing the report down. "I just hope this is being exaggerated." He muttered as he re-read the sketchy analysis of the Progenitor Hive.

When the Fenrir fell back into real space three hours later it found itself surrounded by de-cloaked Frigates and two massive Battleships. One looked like bulked up Giirathar`Jetai with additional armour and weapons. The other looked vaguely avian with two sets of large wings at the stern that tapered together at their extreme ends both wings had weapons running along them. On the elongated neck there were six smaller wings arranged in a W-pattern on each side. The deep green ship could have been mistaken for an Asgard design if not for the ships far smoother aesthetics. The Giirathar`Jetai and its remaining fleet moved off towards the very Earth like planet that hung like a jewel some two light minutes away.

"Power down your ship's weapons." A stern faced Eldar demanded from the communication screen.

"Of course. As soon as you do the same." Weir answered with a pleasant smile.

The Eldar's aged face twitched slightly before a tiny smirk worked its way up his lip. "How very diplomatic. I assume you are this Hammond that has been sent to parley?"

General Hammond coughed slightly, while ignoring Weir's straining false smile, he turned his best friendly but powerful look to the screen. "No that would be me. Are you the leader of this planet?"

"Thankfully not; politics are so tiresome." Tharvèn answered, rather happy that no one had started shooting yet. There had been murmurings about vengeance attacks amongst the crews since the announcement of the casualties inflicted by the Imperials and their impending visit. "The Council awaits your delegation in the capital."

Hammond nodded amicably; he like several others that now held the reins of power in the Imperium found the whole jumbled mess of bureaucracy very tiresome. "Very well. Shall we transport onto one of your ships or should we take a personal craft?" The General asked, it would either gain them some fear generated respect with the Council or a heavily armed flying tank on the planet.

Tharvèn's eyes gleamed at the mention of the open-ended transporter technology. "Lord Commander Àsthar mentioned your ability to transplant matter. A demonstration for another time perhaps. A single landing craft will leave you ship and be taken to Zerfàron by the Shagath`Hòar. That way they are in safe hands." Mine to be exact. He added mentally.

"Very well." Hammond acquiesced, in his head he was gleefully calculating the damage one of the Yggdrasill Core's newer Thunderhawks could do.

Àsthar almost wanted to laugh when the slow boxy craft left the massive hangar of the Imperial ship. She , like most of the fleet, had listened as Tharvèn and the human called Hammond vied for power. She had also heard several grumblings from some of the younger Captains; the notion that the Imperials were too inferior to be a threat had vanished when one of those ships had gutted a Hive from stern to prow. Her musing was broken when she noted the small white light from the top of the black craft; it hadn't been in any of the pictures she had seen of them. She sighed as the Imperial craft was swallowed by the large hangar bay of the Shagath`Hòar, she was getting far too paranoid for her own good.

Sheppard ignored the loud groaning as the Thunderhawks landing struts sagged under the weight of the imposing icon of Astartes might. He swilled in the oversized chair, only shivering slightly when his eyes passed over the Servitor beside him, just behind him Levi and Cerberus were diligently re-checking the automated firing sequences programmed into the Servitor gunners. Weir and her bodyguard, the for once alert Titov, were talking quietly to Ommarin who had been given the task of carrying the massive box of data crystals and memory slates. Belshanior the Furling was currently sitting on the roof. Sheppard had given up even trying to apply the laws of reality to the crystalline being. When they were leaving the thing had simply appeared, clambered with spider like grace onto the Thunderhawks hull and positioned its suited body right in front of the Plasma Blastgun. No one had made any attempt to remove it after Weir had chosen to basically ignore it. And behind everyone in the back of the landing craft Tror and Tulinen were excitedly examining what appeared to be a Chain Sword.

Sheppard grimaced when he thought about Tulinen. There were things in the Universe that no man should see. Nerthus, Dagr and Odin standing around a bound and unconscious Tulinen grinning like maniacs holding silver devices that filled Sheppard with primal dread was one of them. The final act that sent the memory closer to the zone of 'repress until dead' was Nanna seated on the Proto-Asgard's chest with both of her hands buried to their tiny wrists inside Tulinen's stomach. Thankfully he and Titov had been able to stop the Asgard from carrying out their disturbing urges to harvest Tulinen's organs for experimentation. Even Odin's offer to replace them with clone ones was vehemently opposed by the two Terrans. Of course neither Proto-Asgard knew about that incident.

Sheppard fiddled lightly with the power flow through the Plasma Blastgun, last thing they needed was the experimental mounting for the weapon exploding. The Eldar had demanded that they remain in the craft until they reached their home world and the Imperials were all too happy to oblige. A short five minutes that seemed to drag into infinity passed as the black flying box sat in the Eldar hanger.

"So... any plans?" Titov asked hoping that there was at least a mild outline of one.

"Go in shooting and demand what you want." Tulinen replied with a grin Titov had quickly associated with things being shot.

"Maybe not." Weir said like she was scolding a child. Tror seemed to understand the tone if his snickering was any indication but Tulinen just seemed slightly disappointed. "Telling them the truth seemed to work so far." Weir continued.

"I agree but we should stress our position of power." Levi amended getting small nods from Weir and Titov.

"What power. From what I understand you guys are losing horribly to these Repl-thingies." Ommarin groused from behind her box of information.

"Technically if our plan works we've won." Cerberus countered while almost bouncing around the compartment with joy at the prospect.

"And if they don't believe us the Fenrir should be able to teleport at least a full spread of Life-Eater Virus Bombs onto the planet's surface. If they will not aid the Imperium the then they should be removed from the Universe." Levi proclaimed a small pious fire igniting in his eyes. Cerberus nodded once in agreement but Weir, Titov and Sheppard fidgeted uncomfortably at the prospect of genocide.

Tror leaned in close to Ommarin. "Is that normal?" He asked suddenly very worried why his people were allied to these humans.

"Oh yeah. There is this big one in a skull mask that can go on and on for hours about killing and fire and light." Ommarin replied with a wide grin that bared her sharpened teeth to the Asgard warrior.

"My guests. Please proceed to these coordinates. Do not stray from the flight path or you will be shot down." Tharvèn's voice ordered from the Vox.

Sheppard shuddered as the Servitor next to him inserted a cable through the remains of its eye socket with one of the many large spider like limbs that sprouted from its back. The Thunderhawk rumbled into life its powerful engines rising to a high pitch as they lifted the several tonnes of armour and weapons. The jet black craft lumbered out of the Shagath`Hòar's hangar with three Marnith Koòr fighters as escorts. Several of the Zerfàrim pilots were exchanging theories on just how the strange creature on top of the human craft was going to survive re-entry.

Sheppard steeled himself just before they hit the atmosphere. These things had been designed for a man twice his size and thrice his strength to operate and no one had thought to include power steering. The entire Thunderhawk bucked as its blunt nose smashed into the planet's atmosphere. Sheppard's view of the Earth like world below was quickly obscured by a curtain of flames, the Airforce Major gave a might heave on the yoke to bring them back into the vague direction they should be travelling in. His heart momentarily stopped when he heard something metallic thudding along the roof. The image of the shuriken weapons the Eldar favoured flashed through his head and he nearly threw the flame shrouded Thunderhawk into an insane barrel roll before he remembered that the Furling was still on the roof. Cursing the creature he straightened out the bulky Marine craft before swearing he was going to take a Plasma Gun to the thing later. After the craft decelerated enough for the flames to dissipate it was smooth flying towards the massive white city that jutted out of a mountain side.

"My Lord we have arrived." The Servitor co-pilot whispered in its dead mechanical voice before it assumed control for the final landing. Sheppard gave several experimental tugs on the controls once he realised he wasn't the one flying anymore, he grumbled under his breath about the Servitors for a few seconds.

"Prepare for landing!" Levi bellowed as he slammed a new clip into a Bolt pistol. Old habits die hard and the fact the two Marines were acting like they were landing in hostile territory was a source of nervous amusement for the Terrans. The fact that both Librarians started to pray about 'purging the unclean with the Emperor's divine light' a moment later wasn't one.

Sheppard moved back into the main compartment of the Thunderhawk. He quickly snatched up his weapons and spared the roof a glare. "Let's meet the locals." He said happily as the sound of the Thunderhawk's engines slowly died away.

"Yes lets." Levi finished his prayer with his normal half smile. Its intended calming effect was ruined as Cerberus dragged a mounted Heavy Bolter in front of the Thunderhawk's main hatch.

"Is this like those other projectile weapons?" Tror asked admiring the Imperial weapon with a little too much enthusiasm for Sheppard's liking.

"Oh no. This fires 1.00 calibre armour piercing, gyro-stabilised, rocket propelled mass reactive bolts." Cerberus said with a friendly smile as he attached the ammunition belt.

The small amount of drool that was leaking out of Tulinen's mouth was an indication to swiftly move the conversation along before the trigger happy Asgard asked for a go.

"Just open the ramp." Weir sighed. Some days her life was just too strange. She pushed everything not immediately relevant to the mission from her mind as the heavily armoured ramp was slowly lowered by it hydraulics.

Àsthar was annoyed but pleased when her guard detail of seven Elites rushed in front of her as the surprisingly low tech looking landing craft lowered its rear hatch. She had been picked to act as liaison due to her previous experience with the humans. She felt two of the three Dominàr-Suits tense behind her; only the Lord Devastator, the best of the best, kept his cool. The two Lord Protectors, masters of the Zerfaròn-Guard, at her flanks subtly shifted into a more defensive stance. Captain Ghen'Hòar stood next to the Dominàr-Suits, Àsthar had brought her along to act as her go-between with the Imperials. She was hoping that a friendly, at least familiar, face would curb some of the humans more aggressive tendencies.

Well she could hope.

"Welcome to..." Àsthar trailed off when the rather large mounted gun came into sight. The large blue armoured human behind it gave a cheery wave before aiming the weapon squarely at the chest of the closest Dominàr-Suit.

"A precaution I assure you." Weir said sauntering down the Thunderhawk's ramp flanked by Levi and Tror. "You can never be too careful." She finished smiling at Àsthar like they had been friends for years.

"Yes of course. We were expecting your Supreme Commander or your Emperor. Is there a problem?" Àsthar asked ignoring the small growling noise that came from one of the two large heavily armoured guards.

"Oh no problem. General O'Neill is simply indisposes at the moment. And..." She paused to glance at Levi who gave a non-committal grunt. "...I am afraid the Emperor cannot be joining us." She finished. Weir winced when she heard the Force Sword begin to leave its scabbard.

"A shame." Àsthar said with faked sorrow. The Space Marines reactions to the mentioning of the Emperor was interesting; from what Ghen'Hòar had picked up their Emperor was some type of living god. This was interesting; then a terrible thought struck her. What if this Emperor lived in the First Imperium? Invoking such a power to get involved in Pegasus was not wise so she decided to leave that emotional trigger alone "And just who are you? We were never formally introduced." The Lord Commander gently asked as Cerberus finally relinquished his position at the Heavy Bolter.

"I am..." Weir paused again. She needed a title but leader of the Atlantis Expedition sounded quite small. Then an idea blossomed in her brain; if O'Neill could just make stuff up then so could she. "...the Governor of Segmentum Atlantis." She finished proudly, somewhere behind her Sheppard made a choking noise.

"Shall we then Governor?" Àsthar gestured towards a large vaguely mushroom shaped building.

"A moment. Tror where is your friend?" Weir asked the Asgard shooting a wary glance towards the Thunderhawk. Horrible scenarios of the Furling bombing the city while sprouting its gibberish filled her head. So far the Furling had only made a passing endearment to those who hadn't had to clear up one of its incidents.

"It's around." Tror said nonchalantly. The glare he received made him quiver in fear. "I'll just go get it." He added quickly running off to find the Furling before it started a riot.

Àsthar's question about just what was going on died as the brown suit bobbed into view. Tror was standing behind the Furling ordering it around but the creature seemed to be ignoring him. Àsthar could already feel her day taking a turn for the worse. Weir turned and smiled at her before motioning for them to proceed. Both of them chose to ignore the Furling as it sized up a Dominàr-Suit.

"Imperial rhapsody." Belshanior intoned turning its gaze from Weir to the sky. "She is..." It was interrupted by Sheppard thumping it on the shoulder plate and nodding for it to move. Belshanior made several remorseful sounds and inclined its head to Sheppard before following after the rest of the group.

"What!" Shouted Master Sergeant O'Neill, it was a sentiment echoed by the entire bridge. Landry's eyebrows touched as he scowled.

"You are to return to Mars and take command of the fleet there." Landry repeated like he was dealing with a toddler.

"But sir what about the Replicons?" O'Neill demanded. Landry's smile made would have made a great white shark proud.

"The Ragnarok is inbound." He stated before he closed the channel.

It took a moment for the information to register and by that time Master Sergeant O'Neill was being thrown in the air by a very excitable Jaffa.

The Star Cutter's Captain didn't even wait for the other ships to signal their readiness before it and its accompanying fleet were racing towards Sol. The celebrating died down quickly when they realised that this was going to be the decisive battle in the war. A turning point in the history of the Universe. O'Neill decided that if he survived this then he was going to take a long, long vacation.

When they reached Mars they were greeted with one of the most powerful fleets ever assembled. Over thirty Ragnaroks, almost a fifty Orillias, nearly two hundred Terran Defenders and just about twenty Terran Avengers hovered over the northern pole of Mars.

"Emperor's mercy. They must have gutted the entire Navy." The Star Cutter's commander whispered as the Ragnarok class vessel slid into a geostationary orbit.

"Not entirely there still enough ships left to defend the Imperium but this represents all our reserved ships." O'Neill corrected, there would now be entire parsecs of lawless space again. Whatever his original self was planning it had better be damn good.

"This is the Star Cutter to all ships break into attack groups and await further orders." The Captain ordered his own flock of ships joining the larger fleet. And so the waiting game began.

Supreme Commander O'Neill clenched his jaw as the Ragnarok gave another mighty shudder. The damage the ship had taken when fighting the Wraith fleet was beginning to wear down the mighty Battleship. Minor disruptions in the crystals that controlled the ship were being multiplied a hundred times as the full might of a ZPM was thrown into the hyperdrive. The ships Machine Spirit had even started to die in some places because of the erosion.

"Time to Terra?" He snapped glaring at the swirling colours of hyperspace willing the ship to go faster.

"One and a half days sir." One of the bridge crew responded.

"Not fast enough." O'Neill muttered his glare never wavering even as another tremor wracked the ship.

"Time to the closest Stargate?" He demanded.

"Nineteen hours."

"Correct our course." No one answered but the Ragnarok entered into a tiny curve that would bring it into the orbit of a dead world on the very edge of the Milky Way.

Weir didn't have to feign her admiration of the Zerfàrim city. It was like a more flowing version of Atlantis; that these people seemed to enjoy aesthetics more than the Ancients was silently added to her theories on how their civilisation functioned. Two of the Suits had peeled off when they approached the mushroom shaped building but the third and largest one had remained along with the myriad of foot soldiers. The procession remained in silence asides for a few questions Weir had on the Zerfàrim way of life and the occasional grunt from Ommarin as she carried the large box. Once they reached the massive mushroom like building Àsthar stopped them but the two Lord Protectors and the Lord Devastator continued on inside the building.

"Before we enter the Council chamber you will have to relinquish all your weapons." Àsthar said as she indicated two large dark cream coloured doors down a short corridor.

Two Guards came forward with a tray at Àsthar's command. Titov and Sheppard just started to unload their gear but Cerberus hesitated and Levi simply crossed his arms over his chest. They wouldn't surrender the Chapter's relics to some Xenos on a whim. Tror and Tulinen glanced at each other and then at Weir. They were simply unwilling to give up their new toys.

"Now if you don't mind." Àsthar ordered trying to remember if it was blue or white that could launch flames and lightening from their hands. The fact that the young Captain Ghen'Hòar made a small hissing sound when the smaller of the two Space Marines moved gave a good indication it was blue.

"If these are tampered with in any way there will be no corner of the Universe I won't find you." Levi growled at the Guard as he and Cerberus handed over their Force Swords.

"I assure you that they will be safe." Àsthar said dismissively. The only people she knew that got so attached to their weapons were the Angry Stars and some few Dominar Suit pilots and most of them were a bit crazy anyway.

As soon as all weapons had been relinquished, well as many as they would admit to having they were still three Psykers up and a hidden Bolt Pistol in the data slates, the massive doors slid open without a sound. Weir scanned the room as she stepped into it. Everything was made of either a dark wood that looked like mahogany or that same cream coloured substance most of the buildings were constructed from.

There were seven Zerfàrim seated in a semi-circle on the ground level. Only one was in a uniform anything like Àsthar's. The others were a mix of people all wearing different types of clothing that Weir assumed had some significance to their status. Seated above them were nine more Zerfàrim all dressed like or similarly to Àsthar, Weir recognised two of the ones on the right hand side as the ones that had left their group when they arrived. The three that were dressed like Àsthar sat in the middle with pleasantly blank faces, of the three on the left each one bearing three bronze stars over their hearts: one was frowning the other was seemingly disinterested and the final one had a look of excitement in her eyes; and of the three on the right the two she recognised were talking in hushed voices to other who nodded every now and then. At the highest level sat another group of seven, the High Council. Even from her place on the floor she could see that all of them were dressed in flowing brightly coloured and highly decorated robes. There were several sneers and looks of mild interest along with one head of silver hair that had for a second a look of fear before it morphed into an aloof facade.

"Councillors, My Lords and High Councillors I present the representatives of the Second Imperium of Man." Àsthar said in a loud and stern voice. A wave of muttering broke out amongst the Council as Àsthar stepped back.

"Greetings. We come in peace." Weir said and immediately regretted it when Sheppard was elbowed rather harshly by Titov to stop his giggling. "We would like to form an alliance with you against our common foe the Wraith." The IOA representative said firmly.

"And why would such a thing interest us?" The seemingly uninterested Lord Devastator drawled.

"We have been fighting them since the creation of our race. Why would we need your help now?" The Lord Protector that hadn't been there to greet the Thunderhawk asked.

"The Wraith have recently been inducted into a larger race known as the Tyra..." Weir was cut off when the central Lord Commander stood and smiled blandly at her.

"We have all read the reports from Lord Commander Àsthar and Captain Ghen'Hòar. My question is why shouldn't we just let you annihilate each other?" The question rang throughout the room several of the people at the back nodded along with two at the front.

"Lord Commander Khe'Makar has a point. Although I don't agree with his wording." The two exchanged a small glance and Weir felt her heart sink. They didn't have time to deal with petty rivalries. "From Captain Ghen'Hoar's reports you and the Wraith are evenly matched. Why bother to contact us?" The female one of the two Lord Protectors that had been at the landing site asked.

"What Lord Protector Anùi'sil and Lord Commander Khe'Makar are trying to say is that, how will this benefit us?" A slightly overweight Zerfàrim asked from his position on the ground level.

"The Demiurge One Sàdo'Gha is right." Another of the Zerfàrim on the ground floor announced. This one was tall and reed thin with a complexion not unlike that of an Asgard. "How will the Zerfàrim race benefit from this? What can you offer us that we can't take?"

"Enough! The real question is why are we acting like they never slaughtered the majority of Commodore Zkìr'Dan's command?" The large and muscular Lord Devastator who had been scowling since the Imperials arrived bellowed. Suddenly the room was buzzing with noise as the Council argued amongst its self.

"Lord Devastator Zamn'èik we have already addressed this issue. While the loss of life on both sides was terrible; it has been determined that it was the work of a third party." Àsthar retorted, fixing the near snarling male with a cold gaze.

"I don't care! Good and honest Zerfàrim were butchered by these feeble humans." Zamn'èik spat snarling at the Imperials. "They should be held accountable for their crimes!" He roared pointing an accusing finger at Weir.

"We will not." Weir stated firmly. "We defended ourselves when faced with an unprecedented attack by an unknown Xeno ship. As is our right." She said with finality.

Zamn'èik growled at the woman that dared to contradict him. "You have the gall to come here and parade around in front of the families of the people you murdered. I should..." He was interrupted by Cerberus's Power Armoured fist slammed into a wall. The cream coloured material somewhere between and metal and a plastic sagged with a deep groan under the blow.

"Should what?" The Librarian asked with an innocent smile. "I invite you to try Xeno filth." He finished, his face warping into a hate filled snarl. He emphasised his point with waves of sparks floating over his Psychic Hood.

"Stop! We all have seen and heard the testimony of the Goa'uld Ba'al." Àsthar interrupted as the Lord Devastator made to leave his seat.

"And I for one would like to see this Goa'uld." The reed thin one sneered at the humans, Asgard and Furling. "We have never even heard of such a race. Am I correct Lord of One Thousand Eyes?" The man asked turning to a very old looking Zerfàrim sat at the end of the table.

The old man slowly opened a single eye and swept it across the room. "No we have not. However my people have assured me of the video files authenticity." The old man finished closing the eye again. "And I, Guardian of Past Dreams, trust the word of one of our Lord Commanders." He added a tiny smirk forming as the reed thin Guardian of Past Dreams spluttered slightly before sitting.

"We shall not let Ba'al out of our custody. Furthermore bringing him hear would be folly; you are not able to deal with a Goa'uld lose in your population." Weir voiced a rather unpleasant fact. Suen had racked untold havoc from one ship; allowing Ba'al to run rampant on Zerfàron would allow him to do so much more damage that the half insane lesser Goa'uld. "Now, the matter of an alliance?" Weir pressed, forcing her smile to stay in place.

"I still don't see why we would need you." Khe'Makhar said resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. "We are superior to you after all." He added with a smile.

"Listen carefully Xeno. The Tyranids erase entire civilisations, entire galaxies. You would be nothing but a small meal to them. All your pathetic pride will get you is death." Levi hissed. He was becoming increasingly aggravated with the arrogance of the Eldar.

"How dare you human." One of the Lord Commanders snarled a chorus of agreement rippled through the Council.

"Let us see them. Then we shall decide." The female Lord Devastator interrupted the brewing fight. Her eyes watched with interest as Ommarin dove into the box of Imperial records.

"This was taken from our Furling friend here." Weir said as Ommarin pulled out a Vo'cume and a small clear crystal. "According to Tror this is approximately nine hundred and sixty years into their conflict with the Tyranids when the Alliances attempted to re-take a major Furling colony."

"Excuse me who is this Alliance?" A woman dressed in very a flamboyant robe seated at the ground floor table asked.

"A coalition of the four oldest and strongest races in the local galactic group. It included the Lanteans and those two races." Àsthar filled in the gaps while gesturing at Belshanior, Tulinen who looked very bored and Tror who was thanking the Universe for his choice never to go into politics.

The new waves of mutterings were silenced when the Vo'cume activated. A huge panorama grew into the space between the Zerfàrim Council and the Imperials. The camera, which was actually the six eyes of Belshanior's suit moved over an unfamiliar star filled background until they came to rest on a dusty desert world. That however was not what caused the Zerfàrim Councillors to gasp. What elicited that reaction was the two fleets locked in battle.

Hives, the smallest at least seven kilometres long, swarmed like flies to a carcass in the planet's atmosphere. And above them an Alliance fleet was locked in battle with smaller, more expendable, Tyranid ships. Nearly one thousand Asgard and Alteran vessels were locked in a knife fight of a battle with similarly sized Tyranid creatures. The three races traded plasma for spines and acid for particle beam. A huge blue mass that looked like a ball of spikes coasted along the Alliance flank. The Furling Dreadnaught composed of nearly a thousand Furlings sent massive arcs of lightening tearing through space, bolts of light jumped from some of the smaller spikes to swat aside any Tyranid that came too close. Several black blotches highlighted where the Furling had attached particle and plasma weapons to their conglomerate body. The scene was a maelstrom of fire and blood but the Alliance seemed to be winning. Suddenly a cloud, more like a solid black wall, of spores rose from the feeding Hives. The wave of organic weapons hit the intermingled fleets, butchering friend and foe with uncaring joy. Shields glowed like dying stars before they began to fail. Asgard Battlecruisers tore themselves apart as acids ate its way through the hulls, the Furling Dreadnought ground to a stop and surrounded itself with a wall of light while the long and thin Alteran ships shattered under the barrage. The un-matured Hives split open in showers of crystallised ichor adding to the carnage. The view snapped to the side only to witness a swirling pink mist. A rumbling like a thousand drums echoed from the Vo'cume as it struggled to reproduce Belshanior's language. Out of the swirling purple and darkness came She. The image froze on the Progenitor Hive before it sunk back into the Vo'cume.

"Interesting. And you say the Wraith have allied themselves to this race?" The female Lord Devastator asked, she felt a coldness settle into her stomach when the human female nodded. She recognised the vague design of Lantean warships, acknowledged by all to be one of the most powerful ships in space, albeit less well designed than modern variants, but to see so many of them be destroyed so quickly was terrifying.

"Yes. The Progenitor Hive as we call it was seen leading or at least controlling the Wraith fleet." Weir said, happy that most of the Council had moved from disregarding them to actually considering an alliance.

"But how does this affect us?" Khe'Makhar asked with his infuriatingly smug smile.

"We have reasons..." Weir snapped her mouth shut when a sound like thunder rolled over the room. Fearing that Levi or Cerberus had blasted a hole in something she whirled round only to be confronted with Belshanior stalking forward.

Àsthar bit her lip when the Furling started to move towards the Councillors. Until it did anything dangerous they couldn't stop it.

"She is coming. She knows where you are. She knows everything." Belshanior hissed at the Council. The Furling was becoming desperate; if the Lightening smashed these Hollow things then the Wind would not be able to stop Her before the Great War began again.

"What is this thing rambling about? If you can't talk sense then don't talk at all!" One of the Councillors shouted, waving his hand at the glaring Furling. He made no show that he had just insulted one of the oldest and most powerful races known to them.

"Impudent little Hollow. All alone in desperation. Dressing your selves up. Agony..." Belshanior shook itself out of its rising anger; the action was translated into an odd sort of jiggle by the suit. It saw a way to repay the female Hollow it had wronged before. "Reconnoitres. Indiscernible. Shadows." Belshanior said turning towards the Space Marines. If it could get them to understand then these foolish little toys of the Alterans would surely join with the people who bore the name of Power. And by doing so save themselves from the Lightening; and the Wind.

Both Space Marines stared blankly at the Furling as its many eyes irises rhythmically in and out at them. A scouting organism perhaps? Pondered Levi as he racked his brains for the meaning behind the Furling's words. An organism that was like an invisible shadow. A sudden shudder ran through his enhanced skeleton. He hated Lictors. "It means a Lictor." Levi muttered moving towards Ommarin's box as the Furling's bizarre plan started to come into focus.

"What are you on about?" Sheppard whispered to the Space Marine.

"Watch." Levi replied inserting a new dark green crystal into the Vo'cume.

The image that sprang to life made the entire Council minus the Lord Commanders recoil. The writhing mass of tentacles that made up a Lictor's face flailed around in the picture as its two golden eyes filled with an intelligent malice glared at the person recording it. The creature silently screeched before swiftly moving out of frame, the recording looped back on itself and began again.

Levi marched forward; he understood the Furling's plan. "Those are Feeding Tendrils. They can allow the Lictor to take all the information it needs from a creature's brain." Levi said pointing at the visage of the deadly hunter.

"So what?" The oldest of the Lord Protectors demanded.

The smirk on Levi's face was priceless. "One got on your Frigate." He gave a moment to let that sink in. All of the military personnel seemed to grasp the concept and even several of the figures in the High Council shifted uncomfortably. "They know exactly where you are, how your forces were deployed and every single way you're soldiers can fight them. They know everything they need to crush you." The Space Marine continued to drive the point home.

The entire room descended into deafening silence.

"We shall leave you to debate this." Weir said with a respectful bow of her head that was totally missed by the Council.

"Chose." Belshanior resonated as it followed the Imperials out.

Àsthar sighed and motioned for Ghen'Hòar to follow the Imperials when the Council broke down into an disorganised mass of shouting and hand waving.

The Ragnarok didn't drop into real space, in fact it fell. The Battleship exited the unstable hyperspace window at a significant fraction of the speed of light. Inertial dampeners across the hull failed as they struggled to compensate, the ships powerful deceleration engines screamed in protest as they fought to slow the ship, bulkheads tore apart as conflicting forces and technologies pulled them in hundreds of directions. The starboard wing tore itself free in a hail storm of Plasteel and Adamantium giving the Battleships course a few extra degrees to port. Explosion blossomed across the Battleship as more and more sections failed, lights flickered on entire decks as the ZPM was taxed for all it was worth. The ship was already half way to the system's sun when the Asgard beam system activated. Thor grunted in satisfaction as he realigned the ships course, he promptly fainted afterwards the excessive g-forces too much for his frail body to handle. The ship would circle the star once, bleeding off as much speed as possible to the burning ball of hydrogen's massive gravitational pull, it would them returning to orbit the planet. Once they were sure the ship wouldn't explode the Marines, Asgard and most of the I.G.L. would take the Stargate either to Terra or the frontlines.

O'Neill hit the ground running. There was no time to waste as he punched in Earth's address with such force that he almost put his hand through the DHD. He vaguely registered that the original SG-1, McKay, Angelus, Gideon, Davidenko and Zelenka had formed up behind him.

"Carter!" He shouted over the sound of the Gate's activation.

"Sir." She replied already half way through the GDO code.

O'Neill took two leaping steps up the stone stairway before his face met the event horizon. A feeling of falling and then he was in the SGC. Landry was standing at the base of the ramp; he nodded once as O'Neill passed him.

"It's already loaded onto the Tel'tak. Doctor Frasier was not amused about that." Landry said out the side of his mouth as Angelus and Gideon walked down the ramp rattling it with every step.

"I'm sure." O'Neill muttered in reply just as Teal'c and Zelenka exited the Stargate.

"Walter!" Landry shouted over his shoulder. The bespectacled man jumped slightly in his chair but grabbed onto a microphone all the same. He deserved a pay rise O'Neill decided as he and his entourage vanished into light.

"I just hope to God this works." Landry grumbled as he made his way back to his office.

O'Neill once again landed in a run. He blew past Beyla without a word and practically threw himself into the cargo ships hold. There strapped to what appeared to be a bit of Plasteel exactly as he had left it was Pariah Smith. The ship resounded with the two Space Marines' footsteps; O'Neill slid out of the way as Gideon led Carter, Zelenka and McKay into the hold.

A small grey hand tugged lightly at his sleeve. "What of the Supreme Commander?" Beyla asked her large black eyes shining with worry.

"He's fine. And if everything works out I have a surprise for you." O'Neill replied with a small smirk as he, much to Beyla's chagrin, patted her on the head.

"Fly!" O'Neill had no idea what Angelus was screaming but it sounded urgent. O'Neill and Beyla peered out from cargo hold to see Angelus pacing around the room muttering in Gothic to himself.

Teal'c and Davidenko were at the controls of the Tel'tak as it ploughed its way upwards and Daniel was pouring over the dog eared notebook that held his work on the Necron language. The small craft broke through the last vestiges of the Earth's atmosphere and immediately jumped into hyperspace. O'Neill felt a small pang of sorrow that the sight of his home world falling away no longer inspired giddy awe in him. Before the thought was finished they arrived at the edge of the largest concentration of Imperial ships in the galaxy. Mars seemed to glow almost like the ancient god of war was excited about the battle to come. O'Neill moved to the helm as Davidenko and Beyla disappeared into the cargo hold, Teal'c briefly glanced at his friend before activating the communications.

"This is Supreme Commander O'Neill." With that one statement the already subdued chatter on the Vox died. O'Neill took a deep breath and began his speech. "My people. Sons and daughters of Terra. Chosen of the Emperor. We have been a broken race. Shunt, oppressed and conquered by those who thought themselves gods. But, where another race would surrender to despair, humanity rose up and fought back with even greater strength!" Murmurs of agreement whispered back through the Vox but O'Neill payed them no mind. "No other can equal what we have done. For the last six months we have been fighting against insane genocidal machines; these things that would murder us, our loved ones and our children simply because they can. Finally after all the sacrifices we have made the long battle to hold back the night is over. We have a way to defeat them. We have a way to stop this senseless war. The Emperor is the ultimate authority in this Universe. And he is with us! My people. Prepare for battle."

"Well said O'Neill." Teal'c complimented while silencing the near hysteric cheering from the Vox.

"You would have made a good Chaplin." Angelus joked with a half smile.

"Whatever let's just get this thing going." O'Neill said giving Daniel a half hearted glare to stop him writing down his speech.

"Indeed." Teal'c muttered following the Supreme Commander and Astarte-Captain into the hold.

"Begin." O'Neill ordered. He quickly grabbed one of the Las rifles from the tiny armoury and trained it on the Pariah.

McKay nodded before placing his hand on Smith's armoured chest. He felt his Necrodermis intermingling with the Pariah's own, there was a second pause before his pure Necron metal began to attack and absorb the Replicator tainted Replicon metal. He felt a small jolt as he remembered that this thing had been responsible for Lilia's near death experience. His real and pseudo-muscles tightened as he imagined the things before him being destroyed. He ignored Carter's gasp as the near impenetrable Pariah armour began to rapidly dissolve into its base elements. The moment passed and McKay reined in his Necrodermis, the living metal still destroyed any tainted Necrodermis it encountered but wasn't seeking and destroying anymore. The half C'tan relaxed when no one questioned him and pushed deeper, he could now feel the small subspace connection deep within the Pariah's body. Another metaphorical lunge and one of the microscopic tips of the silvery metal made contact with the device. Defensive barriers sprang into place as the Link made to defend itself. McKay made to blast through them only with a thought but bounced off the Replicon security like a fly off a window pane.

"No, no, no, no!" Zelenka flew past O'Neill almost tearing his hair out.

"What's wrong?" O'Neill demanded. McKay was looking pained, Carter had that 'world is about to end' look to her and Zelenka seemed about two seconds from adopting the foetal position.

"The Link has rejected Rodney. It seems there are several quantum locks in place before he can..." Angelus made a threatening gesture but Zelenka never missed a beat. "...we're locked out."

"McKay you will succeed." Angelus ordered. "The entire human race is depending on you." The Astarte continued.

McKay clenched his teeth at the proclamation. He knew that should have been motivation enough but somewhere deep down he found he just didn't care. If he were to unleash the full energy field that was the physical manifestation of his Star Vampire half Lilia would surely succumb to her Replicon cells. And he refused to let anything happen to her.

"Dr. McKay you must hurry." Beyla nearly shouted. The Asgard squeaked when the hologram over McKay's eyes failed and the black and green orbs bore into her. She started to shiver when pure malice began to pour forth from those eyes.

Those same eyes showed him movement to his side. Without thinking he lashed out at the movement. All along his side Necrodermis spears lunged at their target. Davidenko nimbly slid between the silver spikes McKay's face turned ashen when he finally registered who was approaching. Davidenko smiled as he tried to stammer an apology. Her hand intertwined with his and the Russian Major forced his burning green eyes to lock with her own. "You can do it Rodney. I know you can." She kissed him lightly before turning him back to the Pariah.

McKay threw his power at the Link, the sub-space communication channel used by the Replicators and now the Replicons rejected him again. McKay redoubled his efforts pouring his all into demanding entrance. The air sang with power as McKay finally allowed all that was a C'tan to rise from the depths of his being. An unnatural wind swept through the room as reality began to bend ever so slightly; somewhere within the corrupted programming of the Replicons the waveform of his communication was recognised. A C'tan! The entire Replicon race paused as the revelation washed over them. The Link's defences gave way and McKay was amongst its unimaginable vastness; he could feel every single Replicon. From the mighty Command ship as it plundered worlds to the tiniest Replicon cell floating in a man's body on the other side of the galaxy. He felt their collective consciousness turn towards him; joyous and expectant. So McKay fulfilled his mission.

"Come forth."