Chapter 18

Location: Dakara, High Chancellor's Office

Date: March 2, 2022

Time: 0500

The situation was still tense, the Jaffa Nation was in a delicate state of flux at the moment as Teal'c assumed the role of new chancellor of the young interplanetary body governing his people. But with Koramon acting uniquely-passive and quiet things had definitely worked out in Teal'c's favor thus far. But it was clear that his wily political opponent was plotting in the shadows, beyond what Teal'c and his supporters could prove. As this progressed Teal'c had other drama continuing to distract him, the bombing on Chulak continued to be investigated, but the Free Jaffa simply lacked the forensic expertise to really work things through. All that could be proven was that Humans were involved, which inflamed tensions with those members of Teal'c's own coalition who were more militant and hot-tempered. This divide within his own house was first and foremost on Teal'c's mind as he sat within the Chancellor's Office with some of his most senior advisors and several of the Jaffa Nation's generals who had brought news to them of where the weapons had been sourced from that had been used against Ronac and O'rek by the now-dead humans disguised as an SG Team.

"We must act Teal'c, every day we hold back emboldens our enemies further, this Human world cannot be allowed to harbor those who have struck at the Jaffa in so public a manner," Aron stated stubbornly, the old Hak'tyl Resistance member now a general whose council he trusted.

"To send a detachment of warriors would be seen as an invasion by all other Human worlds. It would play directly into these terrorists' hands," Bra'tac countered.

"And to do nothing would only show weakness, does that serve the interests of the Jaffa when a known threat persists Master Bra'tac?" Aron responded testily.

"What would you have then Aron? Start a war we do not want?"

"And how many Jaffa would die if we do nothing?" Teal'c finally spoke with authority, somewhat tired in the way he spoke, "Master Bra'tac, this is a delicate situation that will require a precise response, but it will require one which is made with force. We have no choice."

"Are you certain of this plan Teal'c? If this goes wrong, all good faith between Jaffa and Human may be forever lost. The faith that the Taur'i hold in you…may be lost…" Bra'tac turned and faced Teal'c directly where he sat in his chair, speaking with all the authority and knowledge he had.

Teal'c looked up at his old master, knowing that this warning was dire indeed.

"It is their reputation and honor we seek to restore old friend. But in the interest of diplomacy, we must inform them of our intentions. In the meantime, Aron, prepare a force of warriors, however many you deem necessary, I will order three Ha'taks to be made ready to assist you in scouting this location."

"How long do we wish to wait and watch?" Aron inquired.

"As long as it takes to be certain of success," Teal'c said bluntly.

"Very well," Aron said with a bit of disappointment.

"We had best maintain great caution, we know not who could be leaking information to these enemies of ours," Bra'tac recommended.

"I have thought on this, and decided on a course of action," Teal'c declared, "I shall send my grandsons to tutor with Stargate Command. There, they can pursue these enemies with the Taur'i's assistance. They have tools and methods which O'rek and Ronac will be tasked to learn and learn well and then help us apply those lessons for our own needs."

"Can they do so?" Aron asked, "They are young and inexperienced."

"They are my blood, and they will not fail," Teal'c stated with finality.

Virgon, Imperial Estates Hotel in Boskirk

The rain had finally passed, leading to a warm and sunny morning where the Earth away team was now engaged in preparations for an official royal ball being hosted for them at the Royal Palace up on the plateau which overlooked the city and was the official property of the Virgon royal family. The brochures with which they were provided showcased an enormous gardens, fountains, ponds, and lawns with a palace network of fine marble and glass with stables, garages, and a landing pad for space-capable vessels. Some of what Brenda was seeing as she sat in the dining room, an early riser by habit.

It had been two days already, with them paying some visits to the Virgon Parliament, the Prime Minister's office, a couple schools, and had been invited to what they'd been told was the most renowned opera on the planet. So far the Virgonese had been remarkably nice, a little bit nosy perhaps. Although given the sheer mass of new media and photographers that followed them around plus a very phone-in-hand population that was disturbingly-familiar Brenda was actually looking forward to the seclusion of being able to sit alone for once and be able to enjoy some local cuisine cooked by whom she'd been told was an all-star celebrity chef here on the planet. Of course Brenda wasn't alone, her own US DSS agent was always watching her and the Colonials around her while a Colonial security guard was posted at the entrance to each room and at least three were watching the cooking and prepping staff at all times for signs of foul play in the kitchen.

Thus far, the security threat that the Colonial government said that they'd detected had failed to materialize and much of the more robust measures had visibly backed down such as on-site armored cars and the local PD's version of SWAT hanging out and shadowing the diplomats wherever they went. Some bright spark at the Colonial government had apparently taken the appearance of the Odyssey in Virgon's orbit as a bad sign for how the Earth delegation was perceiving things, unaware of the true reason for the Earth ship's presence and capabilities. Brenda and Walt, her co-leader, had been sat down with a Colonial diplomat who was effectively their chaperone, and told in no uncertain terms that they'd interpreted the Earth warship's presence was a gesture by Earth aimed at the Colonial government. Coupled with the heavily-armed Earth security detail's heightened and very public posturing, in particular aimed at the Colonial SWAT teams, the Colonials had chosen to back down their alert levels to lower what they perceived to be tensions.

After another couple days, the Odyssey was indeed told that the code yellow amongst the diplomatic team was being backed down to a code green, but with a caveat that there be a U-306 in orbit at all times to monitor the situation and that the Lion battlegroup remain on standby. These security measures had been enough to help Brenda put her mind at ease as she settled into doing her job to the best of her abilities. So, here she sat, comfortably sipping on some local juice as she read the local paper, a habit of hers dating back to her first foreign deployment which had served her well in feeling the mood of the place she was in.

There was one thing she was seeing that filled her with a unique mix of pride and awkwardness. The newspaper's celebrity section, of which it was quite large, made much of her in particular. The Colonial tabloids were apparently falling in love with her and her sense of fashion. Brenda had chosen carefully what she wore to this diplomatic tour, choosing tasteful tailored business suits and skirts for the most part along with some fairly plain heels and stockings. And she kept her long blonde hair in her usual layered wavy style although her roots were showing just a tiny bit even though she was extremely particular about keeping her hair clean and to the golden color she had been through childhood. But in adulthood she had started to darken up. Makeup was one thing she never liked to skip on, even on assignment. It added some adultness to her somewhat babyfaced features and helped her to make that first professional impression when in diplomatic settings. Still, her youthful appearance was winning her something of a following amongst the writers of the paper she read, ironically making her fidget a little as she considered if the red business skirt and loose white button-up and heels would be alright today.

The docket this morning was for a visit to the Boskirk river walk where the city's finest restaurants and diners and shops could be found. It was supposed to be quite warm today, so she felt she'd chosen alright, plus even in the heat the material wouldn't show through to the light body armor she wore underneath. So all was felt to be acceptable as she continued her morning routine.

Outside however, driving along towards the hotel in a refrigerated truck was danger. The vehicle was well-known and expected for morning deliveries to the hotel from a vetted source. Today though, something had been different. In the driver's seat was a new driver, and in the back of the delivery truck were a dozen armed gunmen, all of them kitted up in heavy body armor while wearing the local police uniform of baby blue shirts and black pants with a Colonial version of a Pith helmet. All had an old standard issue weapon of the old Virgonese Army that was used by the local PD as a patrol rifle. It was a heavy battle rifle that was remarkably-like a G3 or FN FAL with twenty round magazines holding armor-piercing bullets which had been renowned for punching clean through Cylon Centurions during the war and were still in limited use as marksman rifles. This would be the lead element of the Crusaders terrorist cell. Their plan was meticulous, their preparation well-done, and they intended to execute this.

When the delivery truck was pulling into the alley the loading dock was guarded by a pair of Colonial security guards had been assigned. But, also there were two hotel staff members, inside agents from the Crusaders, both attractive young women. Their plot to lower the guard of their federal opponents was now set to be set into motion as the two guards had their attention drawn off to the truck as it pulled up.

It was normal for the two men to enter the truck, inspect the goods, and then watch its entry. The two girls went first, staying in front. The guards were relaxed, and didn't see the four suppressed pistols waiting for them when the loud door was lifted above them. The terrorists didn't hesitate, knowing that their movement was going to need to be quick and efficient and a half dozen silent pops came from each pistol as the men were shot without warning and without mercy. Such was the noise level of these advanced pistols' suppressors that one could scarcely distinguish them from the rattling of the truck's rear door opening.

"There's two guards in the kitchen and two in the dining room. W need to get rid of them," the older of the two women stated evenly.

"You said we had a clear shot," one of the terrorists said irritably.

"They increased security, but they're relaxed," the younger woman said as the two bodies were dumped into the dumpster which was shielded from view by the truck.

"No matter, we have the numbers and surprise. Let's go."

On the outside of the hotel was a truck, a big tanker truck and trailer. But this one wasn't filled with trash, it was filled with ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder as well as chains, nails, and scrap iron mixed in with it. Within the four-thousand gallon tank a strung-together chain of blocks of stolen military explosives were rigged to a wired-in detonator set to a timer. And in the front seat, was the most complicated part of the whole system, a remote control steering and acceleration mechanism for driving this massive bomb towards its ultimate target. The Crusaders knew that the authorities had bomb jammers positioned covertly nearby to prevent and detect attempts at remotely-detonating such improvised explosives as this. So a timer was employed instead while a chase van with the driver tailed the truck from a distance. The target was not even suspecting its arrival.

Down the street from the hotel was a parking garage, serving as the nerve center for the Colonial authorities' response team. Over two hundred heavily-armed police officers, government agents, and security analysts were present with a plethora of armored vehicles and a whole network of security camera feeds wired into a command center on the third deck of the now-restricted location. If something went down, these were the cavalry and they'd come surging to the rescue. However, at this early morning, they themselves were going to be in need of rescue.

The chromed cylindrical tank had received a sticker of the easily-identified logo of the biggest fuel chain in the Twelve Colonies who had a gas station just next door to the garage. So, as it drove up it was unnoticed, until it accelerated, easily plowing through the manicured scrub and flowers between the gas station and the parking garage. The truck aimed directly for the corner of the building where the stairs and only elevator were located. The terror cell had concluded that with all the equipment that must be present the authorities would not want to be far from the elevator to be able to move quickly in any direction. As planned, the truck careened through the thin plastic gate into the middle of the driveway where dozens of police vehicles were squirreled away ready to scramble where it then stopped, the engine thumping as police officers drew their weapons and fired at the slowed and now stationary truck. But before anyone reached it, the payload of forty thousand pounds of ammanol went off with a thunderous explosion.

Citizens across Boskirk witnessed a great big short-lived yellow flame and dust cloud blast out as a slanted mushroom-like cloud of red dust filled the sky, indicating the type of explosive used in an instant. But raining down around the city were now chunks of concrete, metal, and pieces of cars. The gas station next door was wrecked immediately, the cars and patrons at the busy location vanished in a moment as fire began to rage from the ruptured underground tanks and burning vehicles as nearby buildings had their front facades sheered off entirely and collapse. The parking garage itself looked as though someone had ripped a portion of it away and let the rest cave back in on top of what was left. Hundreds had probably died, and thousands were sure to be injured.

Inside, Brenda was watching her food trays coming out, having been hearing the hype around this chef since last night and was ready to try it. Her assistant had just texted that she was on her way down with a printout of their daily schedule and the usual morning briefing and dossiers for reading and discussion at breakfast. But the explosion that ripped through the calm had thrown her to the ground and made everyone who was standing stagger in place and the crystal and fine china on the tray shattered as they fell. Her ears were ringing, her vision blurred and unsteady while her DSS agent escort was carefully getting to his feet as well as the Colonial guards who were unsteadily shaking off the sudden shock. As he looked around, she saw the blurry figures of what took her a few seconds to realize were local police officers, rushing to see if everyone was okay.

However these were no cops. When the explosion had happened the two security personnel in the kitchen had been killed first, suppressed pistols once more used to silence them. It was a quick and clean breach, acting like responding police, they burst in, asking if everyone was alright and if anyone was hurt. The disguises and the seemingly innocuous inquiries paid off, allowing two of the Crusaders to get close to Brenda and her security guard, who was now more recovered than anyone else in the room and lifted his rifle instinctively in protection of his charge.

But the sight of the DSS agent's HK416 being raised was enough to cause the young terrorists to break their cover, and lifted their rifles and fired as the agent did likewise, being better trained and having the lighter weapon. Five shots rang out, the first few dropping one terrorist and Brenda's guard almost at the same time. Then, the two Colonial agents who'd thought that two cops had just started an incident drew for their pistols, but were cut down immediately by a hail of gunfire. The two waitresses who had been incoherently taking cover had weapons pointed directly into their faces and three of the Crusaders rushed Brenda who saw them coming and tried to quickly scramble back away. But the suddenness of everything led to her being grabbed only as she pulled her phone out and just barely managed to squeeze the panic buttons in time. As a rifle butt met her head, knocking her unconscious her phone locked up, giving a black screen like it was off, but the ultimate panic button had been sounded and a subspace alarm had gone off. With their one captive in custody, and no other Earthers within sight the terrorists wisely chose to back out, taking Brenda with them.

In just a few moments she was carried away, and alongside the now-hostage kitchen staff of more than twenty they found themselves piling into the empty delivery truck and with the chaos surrounding the explosion the truck was on the road, soon well out of the security perimeter drawn up by the Colonial police force.

Caprica Orbit, USS General George Hammond

The alarms within the ship began ringing out quickly, and the SEAL's that were tirelessly running their rehearsals for the planned mission on the Colonial facility on Aquaria heard them as they were going back over them. Their team had done dozens of attempts, only a few of them being successful. Randomization in the scenario programming making things much tougher than any other mission thus far. But the sound of the alarm going off alerted the SEAL's to something much bigger.

Lieutenant Commander Williams, the team XO, and the CO, Commander Myers were already on his feet when the alarm sounded, going over a new plan for infiltration and so the team commander rushed to the door. Myers reached for the communications station at the door and tapped the button, selected the bridge, and pressed the comm button.

"Bridge, team room, what's going on?" he asked the bridge as his men were also standing and readying themselves mentally for action, looking to him for word.

"We've had a red alert, potential attack on the diplomatic team on Virgon, better gear up," the ship's CO responded promptly from the command deck.

"Roger that, what do we need to know about the AO?"

"Warm weather, urban, heavily built-up," he heard the reply.

"We'll be ready, Williams out," the SEAL team leader said and turned to his men quickly, "Gear up! Multicam and standard kits, we'll make adjustments as we learn more!"

Williams and Myers saw their troop rush out, moving just down the hall to their makeshift locker room while their support personnel rushed to their makeshift command and control center and prepared for mission tasking and preparation. Sourced from DEVRGU Black Squadron, these SEAL's were specialists in intelligence gathering, reconnaissance, and surveillance of high priority objectives, hence their unit's selection by the SGC for their particular assessment mission. But to even get to this position as part of DEVGRU they had to be some of the finest shooters in the world, able to think on the fly and be able to gear up and assault an objective quickly and cleanly.

Although the majority of their experience and preparation when it came to kinetic actions was self-defense and self-extraction. Their SEAL's were the black sheep of the hard-charging SEAL's that were so commonly associated with DEVGRU, they were shadow people who often did the work that allowed the big missions to go down in the first place. That didn't necessarily mean that they weren't willing, and in some cases eager to get their hands dirty as many of their missions included covert assassination and sabotage. This expertise assisted their secondary duty in conducting security assessments of US and allied facilities seeing as they were the military's experts at getting into such places. Today though, things were simpler for them, even if it was on a totally different planet. While Lieutenant Commander Williams got geared up with the team Commander Myers rushed to the bridge to get an appraisal of the situation.

He saw the Hammond had pulled away from orbit, and the moment he stepped in the ship had entered a momentary flash of hyperspace, reappearing in orbit of Virgon amongst the busy shipping lanes but not directly in any ships' paths. The bridge was a hive of activity as personnel rushed about, efficiently manning their stations and readying for battle. However, the Colonial Fleet was not showing hostile intent, and it was the situation on the ground that had everyone so concerned.

"Colonel," Commander Myers greeted the man on the chair in the middle, "Anything new for us?"

"Just the initial alert orders, the Odyssey will be holding over the embassy, ready to evacuate all personnel while Lion and her battle group scramble to join us in orbit while the Alaska and her group are made ready for deployment in case we need them."

"Who's on the ground?" Myers asked as the shape of a Colonial Valkyrie-Class Battlestar was seen banking around towards the Earth ship, but considering what the Colonial Fleet's tech was like this ship was hardly of concern to the Hammond.

"A Mr. Beverly is our senior IOA man on the ground, first alert came from him, we'll be getting into contact here shortly and we'll bounce the signal to the SGC for higher-up to hear," Franklin responded rapidly.

"He oughta get us a decent SITREP then," Myers said as the ship settled into orbit and the Colonial orbital traffic control hailed them.

"Transmission from the planet sir," the comms officer next to Franklin piped up, "Colonial civilian traffic controller, requesting identification and statement of intention and travel."

"Tell them who we are and that we're responding to an alert from our diplomatic personnel. And that we intend to take geosynchronous orbit over the position of our people. And tell them additional Earth ships are en route and will join us."

"Yes sir."

As the woman began to relay this back the long range communications station on the left-hand wall of the bridge began to blink and a second officer alerted them.

"Mr. Beverly sir, on the planet."

"Get us connected and patch us into the SGC and our people on Caprica, and scan the planet for all of our people," Lieutenant Colonel Franklin said as he stood up and Commander Myers joined him facing the screen which soon had the face of the British senior diplomat and former operator facing them with a busy background behind him with the IOA diplomats, their assistants, and their security team moving about, busily packing their gear, "Mr. Beverly, Lieutenant Colonel Franklin, Commanding Officer of the Hammond, what's your situation sir?"

"Colonel, there's been a large explosion, and Ms. Brenda Jackson, one of our senior diplomats, has been abducted and her DSS agent has been severely wounded. His name is Peter Samwell, we need him beamed up to your medbay immediately," the British man said quickly and efficiently, knowing the words that needed to be said first, that being the medical emergency.

"Do it," Franklin nodded to the officer at the beaming station.

"But Colonel!" the man stated loudly to get Franklin's attention, which he did, "Do not, I say again, do not beam Ms. Jackson from the planet. We have had a situation update. She's not the only hostage that has been taken. A number of Colonial civilians have also been kidnapped, and the terrorists have already made a threat that they have planted another bomb in the city, and are threatening to detonate."

"Commander Myers sir, DEVGRU Black Squadron. What sort of bomb?" Commander Myers asked rapidly after introducing himself.

"Unknown, but if the cloud I saw out the window is anything to go by I'd venture a guess at some sort of large IED, possibly a vehicle. Our 306 in orbit has been scanning, but I think I know the material used, looks like it was probably ammonium nitrate or some derivative."

"Domestic terrorist candy," Myers grumbled under his breath to Colonel Franklin who nodded in agreement.

"Indeed…we have ourselves an incredibly dangerous situation gentlemen, we must ensure the safety of Ms. Jackson of course, but we also have an obligation to not do anything that would lead to the deaths of innocent civilians in doing so," Mr. Beverly informed them carefully.

"Do we know her situation?" Franklin inquired.

"Negative, all attempts to reach her will be futile. The kidnappers didn't take her phone with her when they took her hostage. Her transponder however points to a hotel on the outskirts of the city where the terrorists have taken additional hostages. But readings indicate she is not in immediate medical distress, she appears unconscious."

At this point, the call was joined from Caprica by a pair of familiar faces, Dr. Jackson and Senator Jackson, both of them standing before a computer screen of the control center of their makeshift embassy. It was clear the Senator was quite distressed, after all his own daughter was potentially in harm's way.

"Alex, what's going on?" Senator Jackson inquired quickly, having gotten the word rapidly.

"We have problem Henry," the Brit said, and began to relay what had happened, recounting it as quickly and accurately as possible. As he finished the Senator was fidgeting uneasily and nervously.

"Do the Colonials appear to have any indication of having a plan?" Senator Jackson asked.

"I haven't gotten a coherent answer from the Colonial government except that they are handling the situation and will keep us in the loop. But Alex, this is something I must recommend we bring a conclusion to ourselves. Earth's diplomats have been assaulted by terrorist thugs, and the whole of Colonial society must see what we are willing to do to punish this barbarism," the diplomat snarled angrily, his long-dormant SAS killer instinct foaming to the surface.

"Right…" the Senator nodded, thinking long and hard about it, but found himself unable to find the right course of action in the current circumstance, but, he did make the right choice, "Alex…due to the fact the…hostage in question, is my daughter, I feel that I need to recuse myself of all decision-making powers and step down until the situation is resolved. As the second-most senior IOA official on this mission, and due to your past training and expertise I'm confident in passing off all decision-making powers to you. It's your show now, whatever decision you make, I'll back you on it. Just…get your team offworld and back here and coordinate from a safe secure place."

"You're making the right decision, we'll take care of this," the British diplomat stated earnestly, trying to reassure his colleague, "But you'd best be present, as senior official you should be present. In the meantime, gentlemen, this is a hostage situation with massive diplomatic importance, we need to do this quick and clean. As Senator Jackson has declared his temporary recusal from lead diplomat given the personal nature of the situation I'll thereby take the lead on negotiations with the Colonial government, Commander Myers, you have overall command of the planning and execution of the mission to eliminate the current threat. Once you have an actionable plan, contact me immediately and we'll go over it and if need-be coordinate with Colonial authorities to prevent any unwanted incidents that can jeopardize the lives of Ms. Jackson and the Colonial hostages."

Caprica, Presidential Residence

The situation room in the bunker of the Presidential Residence was a hive of activity. The President's cabinet was meeting alongside the most senior military officers currently on-planet as well as the Colonial senior officers via a top-secret subspace communications relay system between the different planets of the Twelve Colonies. It was certainly tense, with two orbital maps showing the different locations of Earth ships, including the worrying presence of no less than seven Earth vessels over Virgon, including an Earth battleship.

"Okay, Nick, what do we know?" President Adar asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to wrap his head around the current incident, being bombarded by his press secretary who was in turn being pressed hard by the various news media outlets. The question was directed at the Secretary of Security, whose job it was to handle such terror threats.

"The situation is still developing but as of now we know that twenty minutes ago a fuel truck loaded with an improvised bomb was exploded at our security response force's assembly point at a parking garage just next door to the Imperial Estates Hotel in Boskirk. As we all know this is where the Earth diplomatic team that was dispatched to the planet has been staying. At the same time the hotel's morning produce delivery truck was apparently intercepted and boarded by Crusader terrorists disguised as Boskirk police officers and they entered the hotel, and got close enough to one of the Earth diplomats who was early to breakfast and kidnapped her. Her security guard was shot and severely wounded, and six of our agents were killed in the attack in the hotel itself. Also taken hostage was the hotel's kitchen staff. We do however know that one of the attackers was killed by the Earth guard who was wounded. As of now we don't have a sure count on casualties, but we are assuming that the number is going to reach into low hundreds."

"The Earth diplomat," President Adar asked, "We've confirmed the identity to be that of Senator Henry Jackson's daughter Brenda, yes?"

"That's correct Mr. President," the old man at the seat down the table said with sigh, notably embarrassed at his department's failure to detect and prevent this attack.

"What have we done so far?" Adar now asked again.

"We've shut down space and air travel from Boskirk and surrounding cities as well as closed Boskirk air space. Colonial Fleet Vipers are now flying a circuit around the city to be sure no aircraft enter or leave. All security services have been brought to maximum alert and all sensitive government and military facilities have gone to an emergency security footing. Right now Boskirk PD is locking down all roads into and out of the city and a curfew has been declared and all Army units on Virgon have been put on maximum alert."

"General, how many troops do we have near Boskirk that can deploy to assist local security forces?" Adar looked up at the senior army general on the screen above them, who was actually on Virgon.

"We have five combined arms battalions around the city that can be deployed within an hour of the order being given. There are also a handful of support units that have already been tasked with assisting emergency services in the city, specifically medical units which are en route to local hospitals and an engineering battalion en route to ground zero to assist with search and rescue," the Colonies' senior-most general reported dutifully, "The Army has contingencies in place for such scenarios, we are ready to implement them, Mr. President."

"Alright, give the order, get the Army in there, we need to show force here. This is not something we can downplay, troops need to be in the streets, the citizens have gotta see we're doing something," Adar ordered, before moving on, "Admiral Nagala, what can you tell us about the situation in orbit regarding the arrival of that Earth fleet unit?"

"Mr. President," the Fleet's leading officer now took the metaphorical podium from his office on the planet Picon, "We detected the movement of the Earth battlecruiser General George Hammond roughly ten minutes before the reports came in of the bombing. Their movement was fast and it was unannounced, it jumped straight to Virgon high orbit and has since taken geosynchronous orbit over Boskirk. A couple minutes ago we detected additional Earth ships, we believe it to be what the Earth officers described as a battle group. We are assuming that this was a QRF that Earth's fleet had on standby in close proximity to our homeworlds. The Fleet has scrambled eight battlestar groups to Virgon orbit and orbital traffic to Virgon has been closed."

"How many ships do we have on station?"

"Seventy-two ships in total, so far we're keeping our distance from Earth's own flotilla but we have kept a large lane open to their own shuttlecraft to be able to shuttle their people off-planet if they so wish."

"Okay, we haven't informed the Earth delegation of anything except that we are handling the situation and that it is under control," Adar said, he himself having phoned the Earth embassy to express his deepest condolences and support not even five minutes before, "However, Senator Jackson has stepped down from all decision-making authority, stating that due to his daughter being the current Earth hostage protocol dictated he do so. Earth's new senior diplomat is their man on Virgon, Mr. Alexander Beverly, he has stated that Earth's fleet is present in response to the attack on their people, and that they are working on a solution, but that they will not negotiate with the Crusader terrorists, who have so far made no demands, which means we will be getting some sort of statement video very shortly," Adar now leaned forward and raised his voice and jabbed the wooden desk in front of him to make his point crystal clear, "I want this dealt with, now, get whoever and whatever you need, special forces, field agents, troops, whatever. We are not letting an Earth diplomat die on our soil. Nick, this is your department's arena, you're in charge, put your best people on this, whoever will get the job done."

"Mr. President," the Secretary of State, Andrew Callin, the Colonies' number one man on the cabinet, now spoke up, getting a nod from his boss, "It's likely Earth might try to effect a rescue of their own given the fact they've showed enough balls to slap around a Cylon fleet to rescue one of our people. The odds that they'll do something equally extreme to rescue one of their own senior diplomats is pretty much a sure bet. We may want to bring them in and try to cooperate so that we don't end up hurting our own chances of dealing with this."

"Alright, but I want this to be a Colonial operation, this our soil, and to an extent it's our fault. We gotta show them we can make this right," Adar declared adamantly, "Make sure you keep them in the loop and off the planet."

"I'll get a hotline set up," Secretary Callin replied immediately.

Orbit of Virgon, Cloaked Al'kesh

Things were proceeding at an truly interesting pace for the unseen observers watching from afar. Within this cloaked Jaffa vessel Koramon watched with intrigue within the specially-converted troop bay that now had a whole of sensors installed with several of his trusted but remarkably bright warriors. The man stood within his robes, observing the Earth fleet's presence and noting the sensors' detection of a bomb blast on the planet below. There was no doubt in his mind that the Taur'i and these other humans were not allies. He had witnessed Taur'i joint fleet operations with the Jaffa Nation once before, with Taur'i ships maintaining formation with their own ships. This was a different behavior, one which had been witnessed before by the Jaffa many times when things had been tense, and often led to battle.

He had arrived in the Cyrannus System a day ago, seeking to study the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and learn how best to open diplomatic greetings to them. He had tracked the location of the Stargate to one of their more desolate and least-populated worlds, and decided to utilize it as his method of first contact rather than a ship so that the human government would not feel pressured by their own public. The Jaffa High Council had not given such permission, nor would they, not with Teal'c in the Chancellor's office. But Koramon was not going to listen to the Council, he had his own plans. But this was only one part of a wider strategy which was taking shape elsewhere in the galaxy.

"Sir," the ship's communications officer came up to him, clapping a hand to his chest in salute.

"What is it?" Koramon noted, looking at a sensor readout carefully, passively listening to the reporting Jaffa.

"A message from Dakara, Chancellor Teal'c has ordered an operation targeting the humans that they believe responsible for the attack on Chulak," the younger warrior stated.

"Good, make certain word reaches the planet of what is about to transpire, it will work in our favor when we speak to these humans before us."

"These?" the Jaffa pointed to the screen as he walked up to it, "They are primitive, their ships cannot enter hyperspace and possess no shields, you said so yourself," the warrior scoffed.

"True…" Koramon hummed, not in the least bit phased by the correct observation, "But their lack of advanced technology offers new doors to one who knows how to open them."

"I don't understand."

Koramon turned to the man, nodded and looked back at the screen, "I suppose you wouldn't," he said softly, "You see the size of these ships? How they dwarf even the largest of the Taur'i's own ships? Normally you would think someone who builds such vessels would be confident and over one of their own planets they would refuse to allow other vessels to remain over a major city, within striking distance," he pointed to the readout of relative positions, "You might say a numerically superior fleet of such ships would maneuver to shepherd a smaller force of smaller ships away from such a dangerous position. But…" he held up a finger, "These are no ordinary ships, these are Taur'i, they are superior to them in every way, and they know it. For I have seen ships behave this way before, the Asgard were treated with this same type of respect by the Gou'ald, and they were certainly not friends."

"The false gods hated the Asgard," the man replied in agreement.

"Precisely, and if someone as pompous and self-righteous as a System Lord were to give an Asgard their space it stands to reason that a reasonable and well-informed human government would do the same. That tells me that these humans know of their inferiority against the ships of Earth, and they compromise the safety of an entire city to prevent offending them. Now, such a government would not like this, Earth didn't, and they aggressively pursued new technologies by any means when they learned of their own inferiority many years ago. They found the Asgard, and the Asgard turned them into a powerful ally by offering such technologies as they saw fit."

"I see…"

"And looking here, I see much of what I see in the Taur'i. But the Taur'i are not generous with their technology, they share no weapons or shielding technology with us, their allies for many years. They will never give anything to these humans, who see the Taur'i as a threat. So, it seems…the Twelve Colonies of Kobol may be receptive to their own benefactor. And who knows, they might be spurred to action in the larger galaxy, especially when they see their fellow primitive humans being forcefully subjugated by a tyrant. The Taur'i certainly were inclined to intervene with force, and they possessed none of the power that these humans have at their disposal."