Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars, or Stargate movies, TV shows, games, books, or comics. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.
Chapter 12: Into the eye of the storm
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Part 5
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5 October 1996
Tacoma
the United States
Milky Way galaxy
Commissioner Morgan got tired of hearing the Feds bluster. Classified weapons, this, advanced armor that. He already heard from contacts in State Police, who found the Feds group that fucked up this week for everyone. They all had silenced SMGs and pistols, likely with subsonic rounds. That was some slick movie shit, which had nothing on what his SWAT teams rolled up with. There were patrol cars with M16s in the trunks, which had much more stopping power. They could deal with the so-called advanced armor. Besides, he wasn't letting cop-killers get away no matter what some Fed suit blustered about.
"You're making a mistake, Commissioner! I'll have your job over this!" The suit kept spewing bullshit.
Morgan knew the Police Union had his back, and his people would also back him to the hilt. He looked at the smashed patrol cars and what was left of four of his cops. After something like this happened? He had to make a point so all the crazy lowlifes knew for a fact that such madness wouldn't fly in his city.
"Lieutenant, you're clear to breach. Take down those bastards!" Morgan snapped.
Two of the armored SUVs used by the Tacoma SWAT accelerated from the other side of the building, driving straight into the mall's parking. Two more SWAT squads, backed by cops with M16s, shotguns, and the heaviest bullet-proof vests available, stacked near the side entrances. Flashbangs lit up the mall's interior, and Morgan's people breached the place.
The Commissioner sneered at the suddenly pale suit and focused back on the mall. The bastards inside didn't feel like surrendering and opened fire. That was more than all right with Morgan. He wanted them all brought out feet first.
Windows shattered as the firefight intensified. Morgan could hear explosions echoing from the other side of the mall complex. Suddenly, the radios in the police cars around him came alive with cries for help and announcements of officers down.
Blinding light illuminated the mall's remaining windows, and the firing suddenly stopped. Morgan could only hear sporadic pistol shots coming from the parking lot on the other side of the building. Those, too, came to an abrupt end.
The Commissioner squinted when he noted how a figure stumbled out of the mall. It was a cop waving his hands in front of him as if he couldn't see. A duller flash of light followed, and something orange struck him in the back. Whatever that shit was, it threw the cop off his feet as if he was a toy. His chest blew up in an explosion of red mist, and the corpse fell to the ground with a wet splat.
Morgan could only stare in disbelief as two tall figures clad in weird armor walked out of the dark mall. They looked like extras out of a movie and carried long staffs of all things!
Then those impossible fuckers started shooting yellow shit at the police cordon. Morgan still gaped in shock when an explosion spun him to the cold asphalt.
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Raven flight
Washington state
The United States
Milky Way galaxy
The helicopter suddenly banked left, and its engines whined even more disturbingly. Private Allen kept clutching his weapon like a lifeline and tried to process what the Gunny told them.
"There's a change of plans, apes!" Johnson's voice thundered. "And it's as fucked up as you can expect. The cops found our missing alien and sent SWAT after its scaly ass for some God-forsaken reason. To my utter lack of surprise, SWAT got mishandled even worse than the spooks. The aliens just shot up the police cordon as well. Probably to stress the point, they aren't to be fucked with by fools who have no idea what they're walking into! We're heading for Tacoma. Our new orders are to secure the perimeter around a mall the enemy has dug into and keep the locals or any spooks from fucking this up further. The only good news is that a plane with magic sensors is on the way. It should be above Tacoma just before we get there. If we're good boys and finally catch a break, that plane might tell us if the alien has a WMD or if the snake-ass bitch is bluffing."
Johnson paused and looked at everyone in the back of the chopper.
"What I told you before doesn't change! You're all moving as fire teams. No one goes alone, even if there's baby Jesus needing saving! Am I clear, marines?!" Johnson demanded.
"You're clear, Gunny!" Allen was quick to answer. The last thing he needed on this God-dammed night was the Gunny up his ass.
"Damn right, I am!" Johnson nodded.
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Shadow flight
en route to Tacoma
the United States
Milky Way galaxy
As soon as Jack heard about the latest disaster to strike tonight, he nearly lost it. The NID fucking up when Mayborne was involved wasn't a surprise. The local cops jumping the gun and throwing SWAT into the fire was something else. Did no one tell them that the snake might have a nuke or worse?
Instead of waiting for instructions, Jack willed his ride to fly as fast as he safely could. The Death Glider suddenly accelerated, shooting ahead of his F-15 escorts.
"This is Shadow One. I'm not wasting any more time and going to figure out if the snake has a bomb or not. Catch up with me when you can." O'Neill announced.
He could see the F-15s hitting their afterburners and trying to catch up. That didn't work out too well for them. While a bit slower now, the Death Glider kept rapidly gaining on the fighters.
Jack dismissed the F-15s' from his thoughts and focused on the sensors. This time, instead of thinking about Goa'uld artifacts of all kinds, he thought about weapons, bombs, and explosives; anything that might go bang in a significant way. He could feel the computer do something with the sensors. Perhaps it switched search modes or adjusted filters. Despite nearly thirty flight hours in this thing over the past few months, Jack still grappled with figuring out how exactly the computer and mind-machine worked.
What he could do and was the important point right now was getting results.
Everything to the side and behind the Death Glider faded. Jack knew what he was looking for was in front of them in Tacoma, and thus, the machine more or less was aware of it too.
"Whoa!" Jack spat. A wall of energy washed over his mind. There was something out there. The machine could detect it, perhaps even knew what it was, yet Jack couldn't comprehend the sensor input. All he knew for sure was a glow on the horizon he could see. They flew straight at it.
Jack closed his eyes and thought about large explosions. About nuclear detonations he had seen on TV, both real and fictional.
An electric jolt went up and down his spine. He could see and almost understand, yet comprehension was beyond his grasp. Strange symbols flashed through his mind in some kind of a warning. It was both painfully familiar and utterly alien.
Jack had to fight to tear his mind from whatever that was. One thing was for sure, the Death Glider detected something in front of them it didn't like at all.
"Shadow One to Shadow Flight, do you read me?" O'Neill asked in a deadly tired voice. Whatever just happened took much out of him.
"Shadow Two, Shadow One, I read you. The hell did you fly away like a bat out of hell?"
"You know why, buddy. I can confirm there's something nasty in Tacoma. I couldn't make head or tails of what the sensor system was trying to tell me, but one thing is certain: this computer doesn't like what our snake pal has with him. Call command. Seth isn't lying. We aren't that lucky…." Jack reported and slumped back into his seat.
Around him, the Death Glider suddenly cut down on the acceleration and entered a slow, almost apologetic, cruising mode.
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Informational: Jaffa armor capabilities and the reasons behind them
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Now, to make this clear, so I don't have to repeat myself countless times again.
First, even the old Jaffa armor, visually the one we saw in the show, is going to be orders of magnitude more durable. It won't be subject to failure just because the plot demanded it. So unless a Jaffa forgets to bring their helmet and gets a headshot, their armor would be virtually immune to primitive weapons. No spears, throwing axes, bows, and crossbows can penetrate it.
Further, that armor should, at the very least, allow a Jaffa to survive a glancing hit from a staff weapon. Those are the same staff weapons from the movies, the ones we saw throwing people around like ragdolls if hit. Firepower-wise, those rival a concentrated grenade blast energy focused on a small surface, and that's before taking into account the thermal energy of the plasma bolt.
What does the above mean in practical terms? Even the "primitive" Jaffa armor is built with alloys that disperse energy over the armor's surface, thus mitigating damage to the wearer. What does that mean for the firearms used on Earth? Even when firing standard AP rounds, small arms would require a golden BB to take out a Jaffa. Trinium-tipped rounds would still require multiple bursts in the same area of the armor to have a chance of penetrating. This also means that someone wearing such armor doesn't need to worry about getting his internals shredded by blunt force trauma because the armor spreads the kinetic impact over a much larger area.
To take out Jaffa reliably, and that's when they're wearing the older armor, you need a few HMG bursts, light autocannons, or multiple hits from anti-material rifles with the appropriate ammunition. Direct hits with the right kind of grenades can do it. However, a wearer of a sealed armor would be highly resistant to overpressure from explosions and virtually immune to shrapnel.
The primary issue the armor has is that it's heavy. Unless you're a Jaffa, you can't fight using such armor for long unless you're trying to hold position and don't have to move much around.
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Part 6
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6 October 1996
Tacoma
The United States
Milky Way galaxy
There was no mistaking where the party was. Or the disaster, let's go with that, Allen thought. Their helicopter hovered above a parking lot a few thousand yards from the disaster zone. That was the best way to describe the scene Allen saw before rappelling down. It was like something out of a Terminator move but in real life. He saw burning police cars, bodies, cops, and EMTs trying to tend to the wounded. It was pure chaos down there.
"Go, go, go!" Gunny Johnson roared. "Keep low, move as fire teams! Never let your buddies out of your sight!" The Sarge repeated himself.
The last marines got down and ran low before taking cover behind a nearby fence.
"Raven One to Eagle Eyes, we're on the ground and will proceed to the target zone momentarily," Johnson reported. "The barn is getting back to safety. Do you have eyes on tangos?"
"Negative. All I'm seeing is wounded and trashed real estate. Fuck it, man, I haven't seen such shit since Iraq!"
"I have multiple heat signatures in the mall. I can't say who's who. Can we have permission to light them up?"
"That's negative, Eagle Eyes. We just got confirmation that the area is hot. For all we know, hitting the building could detonate the package. Just keep the perimeter secure and do not engage. There should be specialists on the way to handle the situation. Overlord out."
"Roger, Overlord. Securing the perimeter now." Johnson snapped a swift response and took a last look around. "Mendez, get two fire teams and circle around. I want eyes and guns covering the mall's parking lot. There rest of you, I want you sticking to my ass as if it's your favorite, sweetheart! Sniper teams get a vantage point and see if your SWAT colleagues are still alive. If they can talk, get me intel on what happened here." Johnson paused and looked over the assembled platoon. "One last thing, you do not have my permission to die! Are we clear, marines!?"
"We're clear, Gunny!"
"GO!" Johnson gestured forward and dashed from cover to cover.
Allen and his fire team stuck with the Sergeant as ordered. It took them a few minutes to reach the war zone because no one felt exposing themselves like a target on the firing range. When they finally got to the front of the mall and beheld the carnage, Allen knew it was the right choice.
At least ten police cars that looked like Bradley's gunner took a particular disliking to them and let it rip with incendiary ammo.
"Sweet Mother of God…" Someone muttered a prayer or a curse.
Allen wasn't sure and didn't care. He shared the sentiment. There were pieces of people blasted apart as if by auto-cannon. Allen saw such shit only once before and still had nightmares over it.
This was worse, much worse. And it happened right here in the US, at home!
"Jamie, get the wounded out of the line of fire, even if you have to drag them. Mike, help him. The rest of you take positions and make sure to watch each other. Allen, Howard, stick to my ass!" Johnson snapped.
More police cars and ambulances finally arrived at the far end of the street, wisely stopping far away from the mall. Allen could see a few cops getting into cover behind their vehicles while arguing and gesturing wildly.
"Gunny, we got one of the snipers. That armor's tough shit. One of the suits tanked two mags of .308 before the tango stumbled back into the mall. If we're lucky blunt force from the impact will decommission the bastard for us. If not, fuck it; all we've got is M14 DMRs. They pack less punch. It will have to be grenades and the Cobras."
"Fuck me! I want one of those armors the next time I play peacekeeper." Howard whistled.
"If you're a very good boy, then Santa might give you a nice suit of armor for Christmas." Allen piped up.
"If he were a good boy, he wouldn't be stuck dealing with this shit with us." Johnson wisely noted.
They got to cover behind the engine block of an abandoned ambulance across the street from the mall. Two burning cars offered some concealment as well.
"Howard, eyes front. Allen, watch our back." Johnson ordered. "Overlord, Raven one. We have the front of the mall locked down. Eagle Eyes is in the air, providing overwatch. Our medics are helping the EMTs and local law enforcement with the wounded. Be advised we're in contact with a SWAT sniper team. They confirm the enemy armor is highly resistant to small arms fire. We'll need heavy weapons, vehicles, and air support if we have to go in. How copy?"
"Raven One, Overlord. Solid copy. Specialists and reinforcements are on the way. Hold your position and keep the locals from further escalating the situation."
"We'll do our best, Overlord. Do any of you apes have in sight someone who looks like being in charge?"
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Cheyenne Air Station
the United States
Milky Way galaxy
Generals Hammond and Granger stood at ease wearing their parade uniforms. A small security detail acting as an honor guard stood at attention beside them. The tanks and IFVs behind their sandbag cover did take away from the impression they were trying to give.
Before them, the Stargate finished dialing up and came to life with an explosion of bright, almost water-like energy. The wormhole soon stabilized, becoming a rippling silver wall of energy. A familiar-looking drone flew through the gate and buzzed around before steadying and halting in place. A few seconds later, a pair of heavy armored Jaffa stepped through and to the side, followed by Perun himself. The alien warlord wore an ornate golden armor complete with a purple cape flowing behind his back. Four more guards followed through. They wore lighter golden armor, similar in design to Perun's.
"General Hammond, I presume?" Perun spoke in clear if oddly accented English.
"That's me, sir." George saluted. "And this is General Granger, the commander of this base."
"A pleasure, Generals. You did indicate you had a major problem and were ready to offer much in exchange for my expertise. Here I am!" Perun theatrically spread his arms. "I hope you have no intention of wasting my time. I have many worlds to oversee."
"We found a Goa'uld on Earth. One currently going by the name of Seth." George wasted no time. "Are you familiar with him?"
"I recall a Sethesh. I know that no one has heard of him for thousands of years. Was he stuck here all this time?"
"Unfortunately, yes. We located him using the sensors of a Death Glider you sold us." George continued.
Perun waved him to go on.
"The raid on his compound was a disaster. He either took over one of the agents sent to check on the place or has some way to brainwash people." George explained.
"There are such drugs my kind uses sometimes. It's either that or Sethesh wasn't alone." Perun nodded. "I don't believe you called me here to help you track a fugitive stuck on your world."
"It's more complicated than that. Sethesh…" George tasted the word as he pronounced it, and it tasted vile, "used a compromised agent to contact us. He claims to have a naquadah bomb that can erase a whole state off the map if we don't fulfill his demands."
"And?" Perun prodded in a long suffered tone.
"Do you believe he can have built a naquadah bomb, and if so, how dangerous is it?"
"If Sethesh had access to enough naquadah, he could have anything from a tactical battlefield weapon to a strategic one that can cripple a continent. Depending on what tools he was able to procure and build, the weapon's size, potency, and sophistication can vary greatly."
George grimaced and shared a pained look with Granger. Perun's input, combined with O'Neill's observations, was more than enough to have them consider worst-case scenarios.
"Lord Perun, can your people disarm a naquadah bomb?" Granger inquired.
"Yes. What do I get in exchange? I have a few assets who can do the job. Sadly, getting them here might take too long. What are your leaders ready to offer, so I might consider risking my life to solve your issue? We're nowhere good enough friends for me to do it as a friendly favor."
That suggestion took George off-guard.
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