AN: 2 posts in one day! Well, here's the epilogue of Part Two...a bit of a teaser for what's to come in Part 3 :) Enjoy! Thank you to Nance for Proofing, IcarusLSU for flow reading, and Aerist for graphics!

I'm going to try and get a good chunk of work done before I start posting Part 3. But don't despair, it will be coming!

(reposted due to a serious error concerning the Stargate canon, thank you 'Guest' for bringing it to my attention! don't forget to read the previous chapter as well that was posted just before this one!)

He hit the small glass against the wood surface, causing the bubbles to rise in it. He quickly tipped his head back and drained the colorless, tasteless liquid. It was a costly drink in these parts, but he felt he deserved it after his last run. It wasn't often he was awarded such a lucrative payday and the Rekkar, an alcoholic drink from the Sentarians, was a treat...especially since he was the one who had smuggled it past the Goa'uld Mother Ship, in orbit around the small desert planet.

Although, he had to admit, with the major defeat of the Goa'uld System Lords by the Tau'ri, it wasn't as dangerous as it used to be. He thought of the Tau'ri...who were what others in the galaxy referred to, when talking about the people of Earth. It had been decades since he was last there, and he pondered briefly about returning. At one time, the green and blue planet had been his home...but that was long in the past.

The place had changed. The people had advanced enough technologically, in the past few decades, to be considered part of the rest of the galaxy. Earth had been thrust into a war with the Goa'uld during the last decade, and much of the universe sat back to watch it play out. There were so many different species throughout space, and the Goa'uld had been playing a dangerous game of conquest in the Milky Way.

He inhaled sharply and bit back against the burn of the alcohol. He set the small glass on the bar in front of him, then quickly reached for a taller glass that held a beverage similar to the beer found on Earth. He drained the second glass, the contents instantly cooling the fire that the Rekkar had started in his throat.

He stood up from the barstool and looked around. This area of the planet had a dry desert-like climate, although he knew there was an ocean not too far off, that offered a bit more greenery. The bar he'd just delivered his cargo to, had an open cabana feeling around it, and butted out into a bustling marketplace.

Most of the inhabitants of this world were Jaffa, former slaves of the Goa'uld. Their ancestors had been taken originally from Earth, long before his time there, and forced into servitude to the aliens who proclaimed themselves to be gods. Over the centuries, they had been genetically engineered to become incubators of the young Goa'uld symbiotes.

The true form of the Goa'uld were snake-like creatures that took humans as hosts, in order to assert their power. When he first ran into them, even he had a hard time believing they were not gods. Now, he knew better.

As their hold in the galaxy waned in the years following the war with the Tau'ri, others began to clamor for power. The Lucian Alliance was a coalition of smugglers, who recently founded a new hierarchy and were quickly becoming a known force. Others, such as the Tok'ra...Goa'uld-like creatures that, instead of suppressing their human hosts, worked together in a true symbiotic relationship... were too small in number to be considered a threat.

The Tollan, until recent years were a powerful and advanced race. Until they had been defeated by the Goa'uld, Anubis, and were forced to flee their home planet. They were the closest relative to humans in the galaxy, but their laws didn't allow them to share their superior technology with anyone they considered primitive...such as the Tau'ri.

The Asgard were in a class by themselves, and survived off of cloning their own bodies and transplanting their consciousness. Considered one of The Alliance of Four Great Races, they excelled early on in the galaxy, and helped to guide many of the younger races. They only stood about four feet in height. They had large heads without definable noses, set with dark bulbous eyes, and a grayish skin tone on slender bodies that appeared too thin, to support their sizable craniums. A war with a robotic race, called the Replicators, kept them occupied in their own parts of the galaxy, and so they didn't interfere with most of the day-to-day occurences.

The Alterans, or Ancients...as many of the races in the Milky Way called them...were listed among the members of The Alliance. Many, until recently, thought they were extinct, or in hiding. The man knew for a fact that not all was what it appeared, when it came to this particular race.

A predecessor to humans, the Alterans found a way to Ascend from their physical bodies into a pure form of energy. Their level of technology was far beyond any other race. At the height of their civilization, they had built the vast network of Stargates that spread throughout the known universe, and beyond. However, they then gave it all up for a place in a higher plane of existence.

Another seldom seen member of The Alliance, were the Nox. He'd only ever heard of them; very few had ever seen them. Said to be nature-loving pacifists, most of what he knew was rumor.

The fourth race, was called the Furlings...and even less was known of them, than the Nox.

Humans were well on their way to becoming a new power. 'The Fifth Race', as the Asgard called them. They were similar to the Alterans, though it would take many more generations before humans accomplished the same level of advancement. He wondered if he would be around to see it, but he brushed away that thought as quickly as it came.

His blue eyes narrowed at a man, dressed in gray robes and walking casually through the crowd. His skin was deathly pale, and his eyes were clouded over with a white film. In one hand, the robed figure held a staff with a large blue crystal on top of it; in the other, was a book.

Recently, rumors of this man, called a Prior, and his ilk, had begun to spread. It was said they had destroyed an entire planet, in their efforts to build a Wormhole that would span galaxies. He had learned that the Priors were the handmaidens of a race called the Ori. Once of the same species as the Alterans, they had split off at some point and Ascended as well.

The Alterans believed in allowing the 'lesser races' of the universe to find their own paths to enlightenment. The Ori, on the other hand, preached absolute obedience to gain it. The consequences to those who disobeyed them, or refused to bow down before the god-like powers granted to the Priors, were devastating.

Until recently, it was said that the Ori had kept to their own galaxy, in a distant part of the universe, which many others avoided...and with good cause it seemed.

He picked up his long trench coat from the back of the barstool, and slung it over his shoulder. Putting on the goggles, that served as protection from both the sun and the occasional sandstorm on the planet, he shielded his eyes. He adjusted an ancient sword, slung across his back.

The man was never far from the sword, as anyone who knew him could attest. Yet, not a single one had ever seen it out of its scabbard.

A nod to the owner of the establishment, who still appeared a bit grumpy at paying the smuggler, and the man walked out onto the street. It was best to get out of the area, before the Prior decided to take a liking to this world.

As he made his way to the spaceport, where his ship was waiting, a man dressed in the Tau'ri Military uniform unexpectedly stopped in front of him. He brushed on past, without a second glance, while the man cursed. A few meters further away, he heard someone calling.

Three men, dressed in Tau'ri Military uniforms, stood nearby. One of them was cursing and calling to the fourth man, whom he had nearly run over.

He paused, hearing the name the leader called out. Something inside him was suddenly intrigued. He stealthily slipped into the shadows of a nearby market stall to watch.

(*~*)

Gwaine had his head down, as he walked along after his team. He was trying to make sense of the readings on his handheld scanner, and didn't notice the crowd around him. Suddenly, he was knocked forward a step. He muttered a curse and looked up.

The man kept walking, but Gwaine stood gaping at the sight.

"Major Dallon, are you joining us today?" The commander of the group called out to him.

Gwaine's eyes scanned the crowd for the man he had just seen. "Keep your panties on, Colonel...I'll be there in a minute." He was getting rather annoyed with Reeves, and had begun to stand his ground. Gwaine knew he was pushing the limits of insubordination.

He saw what appeared to be a bar at the edge of the street. An awning covered the main seating area. He moved up to it and caught the proprietor's attention. "Hey, was that blond man with the sword just in here?"

Distrustful, the portly man raised an eyebrow. "Depends..."

"Look, I'm not after him for anything. I just want to know the basics."

The barkeep smirked, "I doubt you can afford the basics...Human. So...no, he wasn't."

Gwaine's eyes narrowed, "Obviously, you know who I'm talking about. Can you tell me his name?"

Jutting out his thick chin, the man turned away to help another...paying...customer.

"Major Dallon!" The leader of SG-18 called again, impatiently. "Oh, Sir Gwaine! Get your head out of the Dark Ages and come on! We need to catch up to that Prior!"

Gwaine exhaled and looked around again. He was beginning to think it was just his imagination. He started to move out, when a young boy ran up to him.

The boy smiled and held something up. "For you, sir...for luck!"

Gwaine nodded and took the item. He felt his heart stop. In his hand, he held a coin made of gold. Worn, but discernable on one of the sides, was the seal from the forges of Camelot. "Where did you get this?" He asked, but the boy was already gone.

Taking a deep breath, he grasped the coin tightly and nodded, hoping whoever sent it to him would see that he had received the message.

(*~*)

The man in the shadows watched the Tau'ri rush off, still in pursuit of the Prior. A tug on his sleeve caused him to look down.

The boy stood there with his hand out, waiting for his payment. "I gave it to the right one, right?"

"You did well, boy." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of triangular coins, that served as the local currency. Handing them over to the boy, he ushered the child off.

He ran a hand through his blond curls and released a breath. "Well, Excalibur," he whispered to the sword on his back. "Looks like it's time to take you back to your owner."

Leon smiled and continued his journey to the spaceport, where his ship, a modified Tel'Tak, was docked. He couldn't believe the time had finally come...and he was going home.

"Far beneath the ship, the world is mourning.

They don't realize, he's alive.

No one understands, but Major Tom sees,

Now the light commands, this is my home...

I'm coming home..."

Peter Schilling - Major Tom (Coming Home) (not mine)