Stargate: Immortal

by Seraphin2011

Book III: The Ori gone, Aschen imprisoned, Wraith changed and pacified, yet the Alliance is threatened once more. The Vargas are coming and no one knows how they are going to survive an enemy that spans throughout the known universe and had done so for billions of years. By closing the anomalies, they have postponed the invasion by more than two years, but will that be enough?

20. Before the Storm

Author's note: Hello! Here I am after more than half a year. Well, better ever than never, I guess. The reason why I managed to put out the story is that I recently read in an article that it is the 25th anniversary of the Stargate franchise. The article also talks about what people who love stargate would like to happen with the franchise. Suffice it to say, most said that they would like to see the show returning in one form or another. Many expressed their wish to see their favorite characters while some wanted a complete reboot, and others a movie instead.

Well, here are my five cents on the subject:

I, for one, would like to see the continuation of the show. I wouldn't mind it even if no one from the previous shows appeared in the new one (I wouldn't mind if they did either, though), as long as they made the show the right way. My main reason for preferring a continuation is because I think the story is not over yet. The Pegasus galaxy was left with the Wraith still as the predominant species, the Lucian Alliance are always causing trouble in the Milky Way galaxy, and Destiny barely even showed anything worthy. They could quickly start a new tv show with many plots and subplots. For example, let's say, five years later, they finally go public. It might be the first show to explore how people would behave after learning that they were not alone. Of course, this should be done right, without overdramatizing everything like shows often do. I would like to see a more moderate approach, showing governments and individuals reacting to the revelation in an as realistic way as possible. There would be those who would complain, but there would also be those who think: 'Meh, I have to go to work today the same way as I did yesterday. Nothing has changed.'

This part of the story alone could fill half of the first season with exciting content. That, of course, wouldn't be the main focus of the show. Let's say that, after people learned of the Wraith and how they were able to reach Earth, public outcry forces the governments to send Atlantis back to the Pegasus galaxy. With this, the whole story can restart with a lot of new material. I'm also sure that the producers still have more stuff related to the Wraith from the Atlantis show. Add the Asgard legacy left to Earth (maybe something hidden in it) and the rich history of the Ancients (maybe some mistery) and ideas should be bountiful. I think a successful show that lasts for at least five years can be made. Perhaps it can last even longer.

As long as they put the right amount of effort into making it, an excellent series could be created that many would enjoy watching.

Well, that all from me on the topic. Thanks to my beta, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well.

---

David, aka Malcolm, aka Mr. Barns, stepped forward only to retract the extended foot with lightning speed. A vehicle had raced past him like an enraged rhino. It missed him by only inches away. David's lousy side flared. He wanted to chase the driver and use him as a carpet to clean his boots for the next ten minutes but stopped and took a few calming breaths instead. They were not here to make waves by engaging in unwarranted disputes with the local fauna (people).

"I want to beat these people so badly," Peter, aka Joshua, aka Mr. Homer said, as if he could read his mind. He, too, didn't like the unruly locals of this half-frozen world. The less they interacted, the better it would be for both sides. "Everything about this place angers me."

He shared Peter's sentiment. "I don't know how to describe this place, or why would people choose to live here."

"How about, a futuristic steampunk dystopia. Or maybe a retro cyberpunk one instead?" Peter said.

"A dystopia for sure. As for the rest, is there a junk dystopia choice that I can pick?" David said.

The world was hellishly cold and with scarce arable land on which to grow food. The only settled place on the planet was one single city located inside the equatorial region, with roughly twenty thousand people living in it. When observed from a distance, instead of a town, one would think they came to visit an oil refinery or another industrial complex, with metallic tubes and loud machines of various sizes and shapes governing the landscape. Steam spurting out from pipes spreading throughout the place was the final touch that made the whole area look surreal. Only after entering the city, one would discover the neatly packed homes, arranged in a maze-like fashion that would give a headache even to the best architects in the galaxy. Everything—and everyone—was crammed under the protective barrier that kept the always blowing, freezing wind out. Not that they were entirely successful even in that regard. The protective barrier wasn't the energy type shield the Terrans utilized daily. Instead, it was a weak barrier that, through some unfamiliar means, created a layer of higher air density. How it worked, he did not know or care. What he knew was that the wind would break upon hitting the layer of higher density, only allowing for a breeze to pass through. All the tubes filled with high-pressure steam formed an endless maze throughout the city, serving to bring heat from deeper underground where they were extracting geothermal energy. It was used to warm the town, and to send the steam to the turbines and smaller engines of mixed origin and efficiency used to get electricity.

If that were all, Peter's description of a steampunk dystopia would have been right on the money. However, the few scattered pieces of Goa'uld and other races techs, like anti-gravity systems utilized on cars, holographic displays, and Naquadah generators, ruined the Victorian image of the place one would otherwise have – a steampunk dystopia through and through. However, other incompatible technologies added an uncertainty factor of what kind of place this indeed was. Therefore, in his opinion, a junk dystopia was a better way to describe the city, since whatever cheap or stolen tech that could be scrounged somewhere in the galaxy, would find its way here and would be integrated into everyday life by the natives.

"As far as why would anyone want to live here, that, of course, is because of money," David added. "Or maybe because they are on the run."

"Not many planets have so many resources as Genoa. Too bad the planet is a frozen hell where nobody would want to build a house with a picket fence and start raising a family," Peter responded.

And frozen hell was indeed an apt way to describe the planet. Although it was summer, they were still feeling the biting cold from the short walk they took from the hangar to the warmer area under the protective barrier of the city. They couldn't use any of their more advanced techs because they were working incognito. It would have been a dead giveaway if they came inside the city wearing light clothes while protected by some advanced shielding system that kept them cozy.

"It is one of the planets where the gate's still working. That might have attracted all kinds of people," David said. This world, Genoa, could not survive without having supplies delivered to it regularly from elsewhere.

"Maybe that's the reason this world turned into a hub of sorts for all planets that decided to keep their gates active, disregarding the risk. The Vargas could come knocking at any moment and without notice," Peter said.

"The allure of scrounging some Naquadah, Trinium or Eritium—a mineral essential in the manufacturing of control crystals—is too great to pass it. Every vagabond whose race the Goa'uld have destroyed, sooner or later finds their way here, together with whatever junk they carry. There are no laws in this place either," David said while walking further down the dusty road. Their destination was a bar or gathering place—depends on how one looked at it—where they were to meet their contact.

Meandering between the people in the crowded street—guarding against pickpockets—the two made reasonable progress towards their aim despite the adversities. They might look a little strange to the locals, maybe like a pair of confused tourists, mostly because of Peter. While stretching a badly drawn map of the place, he was trying to discern where they were and how best to proceed. Consequently, many natives had decided to try their luck and see if they can find something valuable inside their pockets.

"That's true, for the most part. I still think that we should be careful not to fart the wrong way," said the man while scrutinizing the outstretched map.

"I'm not sure what you mean. And not just for one, but for two reasons, no less," David said. He felt confused. "To me, it seems like this place is where you can let one rip freely and in whatever way you like without having to worry about anything."

"Maybe, but you know how often the one in charge of such a place—and there always is one—changes often, right? It's completely unpredictable. I mean, one day you know the few rules the big boss put into place because he likes it that way and you know that even if you let a wet fart out, he doesn't mind it at all. He's just that kind of a guy. He might even let loose an airbender of his own just for solidarity's sake. But then, the next day, someone else takes over. But you don't know that because no one told you yet. You still think the old boss is in charge—the same boss that doesn't mind hearing your butt burping in any way or form. So, without thinking, you happen to let loose a butt-whisper without a care in the world, not realizing that the new boss hates it when someone does it in that particular way or on that particular occasion, and it disgusts him badly. The next moment, you get riddled with bullets because you farted the wrong way!" Peter explained. "So, the point is that we need to be careful not to do something that could piss someone off. It could create an incident that we don't need."

"Okay. With this, you settled one of the two reasons for my confusion," David replied.

"What's the other one?" Peter asked, not sure if there was anything else that needed explaining.

"The other reason for my confusion is, why are you using farting to make your point?" David asked. There were many ways to explain the perils they could have to face on Genoa. He could also have come out and stated that they should stay vigilant, and that would have been the end of it.

"Oh, that. No particular reason. It's just that, while I was thinking about the problems we might have to face here, I got the sudden urge to release one, so…"

"Hmm, now my second reason for feeling confused has been cleared… unfortunately," David said while taking a few steps away from Peter. "If we are talking about you, Peter, letting one of your canary killers loose inside such a crowded place, that can get us in real trouble. At a minimum, we would garner the hatred of everyone inside a one hundred meters radius."

"Nothing I can do about that. Most of the cuisine offered around the galaxy disagrees with me," Peter explained. "The best food I was ever able to stomach beside the one back home was what we ate while undercover in the Colonies."

David wanted to retort that he should try harder to find a solution. It was a big problem, after all. He could still remember the urge to run out of their small flyer that assaulted him every time his comrade-in-arms produced another airborne toxic event. And it didn't matter if they were parked somewhere or still traveling through hyperspace. The urge to jump out remained as strong as ever.

While thinking about such bad memories, the two reached the establishment. The mission they were assigned was dragging for longer than expected. To the bone-deep discontentment of both of them, the slave trader Lars was still alive and was happily continuing doing business. Their mission seemed never to end. Always one more thing to do before they could ask the TFN to accompany them for a short, last visit to Lars.

Lars and the Galarans would soon close the deal on selling the brainwashing tech, which was one more reason why they needed to dispose of him asap. But unfortunately, that wasn't all they needed to do. Lars also had a supplier who had provided ships—including Tel'tak and Al'kesh—and components that had allowed Lars to repair an old Goa'uld mothership. He was even able to improve its systems with parts from the newer generations of Ha'tak class ships. Compared to what other, more advanced races in the galaxy had right now, that might not seem like much. It was just an old Ha'tak that Lars found and repaired to the standards of the first generation of Ha'tak with some additional improvement from the second generation. But they were dealing with a meager slave trader here. If slavers like him started roaming the galaxy aboard capital warships, no matter what kind they were, no one would be able to guarantee order anymore anywhere in the galaxy. There were signs that the same supplier was providing other shady people with similar tech. The last troubling issue they discovered recently was that Lars didn't have the cash to buy spaceships like Al'kesh and the components to repair his prized possession, the capital ship. No matter how profitable the slave trade was, buying warships was above what he could afford. The Terrans had determined the value of an Al'kesh at around 76 million T-Credits. Buying three such ships in cash would have turned Lars into a poor man, with many debts he would need to repay.

Which meant that Lars bought the ships by paying in some other currency.

What Lars was selling to the Galarans held great value for other people as well. The TIA determined that having the ability to brainwash people must be appealing not only to the Galarans but also to the Jaffa faction led by Bre'lac. In the last month, suspicions finally turned into certainty. Without a doubt, Bre'lac was involved in the illegal arms dealing and was planning to expand his business by any means necessary. In a way, it made sense. The Jaffa were a warlike race, and such a race needed enemies to fight. Providing criminals with warships was a way to secure their future earnings gained through their job of patrolling the galaxy as peacekeepers. The death of the Jaffa sent by Teal'c—sent there to instruct Bre'lac's people on how to raise their construction quotas—hadn't been an accident. The instructors must have seen something that they shouldn't have, which prompted Bre'lac's people to eliminate them before they could notify Teal'c or Bra'tac of the matter.

Their task was clear. Mr. Homer and Mr. Barns needed to expose the relationship between Lars, Bre'lac as the supplier, and any other shady individuals who might have profited from the same channel of illegal arms dealing. The moment they connected all the dots, it would also be the day when Lars gets apprehended and sent to the Terran penal colony, the Zeta site. That was, of course, only if he survived the battle. Afterword, they would have to find the best way to deal with Bre'lac and his cronies.

"This place is like a maze. Aren't we going in circles?" Peter asked.

It wasn't a typical bar. The establishment was made from several neatly packed buildings whose connecting walls had been demolished to link the various spaces together. The two of them were passing from one room to the other, crossing from one building to the next, only to return in the place they already walked through before. David remembered the guy sitting in one corner of the room and watching tv. The tv set didn't even have a frame. It was just a cathode tube, like those found inside old TVs. However, the tv was attached to a crystal-based storage device that even had a holographic interface for easier access—quite high-tech in comparison. The person who managed to make the two technologies work together must be a genius; David was sure of it.

Since the disappearance of the Goa'uld, the galaxy had slowly but surely been flooded with garbage. The movie being watched probably came from Galar. On the screen, in low res, a group of humans was shooting at a group of lizard-looking green aliens. While engrossed in the scene, the guy trembled in fear and anger. He was even muttering words like 'M-Monsters!' every time someone got killed. After inspecting the guy for a while longer, David noticed that he resembled the aliens in the film.

"We passed that guy before," Peter commented. "So, we went through building one, two, three, six, and then, somehow, and for reasons unknown, we came back to building number two. It's quite vexing. At this pace, we will never get to nine."

"Let's go back to Building Six. There must be a passageway there that we missed."

"You mean, another hole in a wall?"

"Yeah, that one. Though, I can't remember having seen any other holes except for the one that we came through."

Not having any other option, they backtracked to building Six. As predicted, they could not find any hole in any of the rooms except for the one leading further back to building Three. Then, while wandering inside building Three, they found a half-hidden nook leading to building Four and then directly to building Nine, their goal. They were quite annoyed when they noticed that building Nine had a door leading to the outside, just not on the same street as the one from which they came. The jury was still out on the matter of how to reach buildings Five and Eight. Not that he cared that much, now that they reached their destination.

"This should be the place. Look. There's even a bar where we can order drinks," Peter said while pointing toward the mentioned bar. He seemed thirsty.

The building they had entered was the largest one thus far. Peter and David walked to the bar, ordered two ales, and sat at the nearest empty table. The place was spacious, with many tables strewn unevenly around a large space smack in the middle. What was there, it couldn't be called a boxing ring. No cords surrounded it, nor was the floor raised or made of a different material. A rectangle twenty by twenty feet in size was drawn on the ground with white paint, delimiting the space. Inside it, two large guys were beating each other for sport. Or at least, David hoped it was for entertainment. People around them were cheering for their favorite, or, more probably, for the guy they had placed their bets on. He had to admit. The two fighters were very good at pummeling each other senselessly, blow for blow. Except, it was apparent even from where they were, some fifty feet afar, that the human felt each punch more heavily than the alien opponent ever did. Both were big, both were muscular, and both were well trained. However, it seemed as if the alien's skin was three times thicker than that of the human. Watching the fight made David think about the ethnicities in this place. He couldn't be sure—it wasn't like he had any hard numbers to rely on—but he believed there were more aliens than humans on Genoa. In the bar where they were, that ratio was undoubtedly the case.

After the fall of the Goa'uld, just like it happened in the Pegasus galaxy after the disappearance of the Wraith, alien races started coming out of the woodwork. Most of them were nomads who lost their worlds because of the Goa'uld and had no other choice but to venture—or rather, find refuge—elsewhere in the galaxy. Now, many worlds were teeming with alien life. Quite the diverse inhabitants could be witnessed in the Milky Way right now. Something the Terrans were happy to see. Many in the Council believed that they couldn't learn much more from humans, or at least not as much as from alien lifeforms, which had a different mindset. He also wanted to meet as many aliens as he could and understand the way they thought, did things, and enjoyed life. It should be both instructive and fun.

With a sigh, he finished thinking about such matters, deciding that it was time to get to work. He put a pair of glasses on before looking around. He looked left, he looked right, and then repeated the process several more times, each time scanning every person in sight. "I do not see it."

"Maybe the glasses are not working," Peter said.

Lars gave them the glasses. With them on, he should be able to see a distinctive mark on the persons they were supposed to meet. It was the way Lars had set it up. He would send different people every time there was a drop, and the other side did the same. However, before the meet, Lars and his supplier needed to agree on a set of specific frequencies necessary to identify the other party. Without it, they wouldn't know who they were supposed to meet. A reasonable precaution, if one was smart enough to avoid being infiltrated from the inside first and foremost. Lars wasn't that smart, as Peter and David joining his organization could attest to that fact. Not much point in taking such strong precautions before every meeting if your best pals and go-to-guys were, in fact, Terran spies!

"There are many aliens here," Peter said before taking another gulp of ale.

"More than half of the people here are aliens. I'm counting at least seven different species in this bar alone, apart from humans," David said.

"Yeah, I can see some strange pairings too," Peter said while pointing with his chin at a man and a woman not too far from them.

David had noticed the two before. "If they are happy."

"Sure, but that pair is strange no matter how you look at it. We are talking about the beauty and the beast kind of pair here," Peter commented. "What is a beauty like her doing with that ugly alien.

David looked towards Peter. He glared at him trying to understand why he said such a thing, but Peter never showed any expression that would give out a clue. "Are you serious?"

"Eh? About what?" Peter asked.

"Uhm, Peter, she's the alien, and he's the human."

"What!?" Peter shouted before calming down.

"Don't you see her ears?" David said. The woman's ears were a dead giveaway. No matter if you thought she resembled a Vulkan or an Elf, she surely did not belong to the human race.

"Damn, I didn't notice the ears. Her hair was hiding them," Peter concluded. "But what about the guy? He can't be…"

"He is," David said.

"B-but he looks like a troglod—"

"You should stop talking. She has sharp ears." David stopped Peter in midsentence. The woman had already turned towards them, glaring. The big guy leaned towards her and asked her something. By the look of it, he was asking her what was wrong. The woman whispered back in his ears while pointing toward Peter. "Oh, boy."

David felt a sense of foreboding. The huge human glared at Peter, enraged. He walked straight to their table, with the woman trailing only a step behind. "You. The ring. Now."

"Huh? What about the ring?" Peter asked.

"You and me. Match!" the bold, seven feet tall human said.

"And what if I don't want to?" Peter replied.

"No choice. Building Nine's rule," the man said.

David looked around and realized that this place wasn't that easy. It seemed that people could issue challenges that the other must accept. "That's quite the pickle you're in, Mr. Homer."

"Damn! I farted the wrong way without even knowing!" Peter said. He saw that the guy was losing his patience—in addition to not understanding what farting had to do with their current situation or how one could fart the wrong way. At least, that was what the man's face was saying. Peter got up, resigned. He took his jacket off and gave it to Peter with whatever else he was carrying, and that would get in the way of the fight.

"Hurry," the man said.

"Fine, fine, I'm coming. Hey, big man, can you go easy on me? Don't you see how skinny I am?"

"No promises," the guy replied.

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that," Peter said while walking next to the big guy. He was slowly walking towards the place of his execution, done by the seven feet tall, alien-looking human.

David sighed. Peter was very good at blending wherever he went. He was already making friends with the natives. Besides, it was not like they didn't have time. Their contact was late, even though they too had come a little late because of the way the establishment was laid out. Now that he thought about it, if they were late because of that reason, their contact too might be wondering the place while attempting to pinpoint the elusive building number nine's exact location.

The TIA asked them to check out the place while they were here. Nothing thorough or too time-consuming, rather just to get the underlying pulse of the town. The galaxy was changing and not entirely for the better. Chaotic? Anarchical? Those were only a few words that might be able to describe the state of affairs in the Milky Way galaxy. And such a state wasn't solely the Vargas' fault. Humans and the Jaffa were the predominant races, but even they were divided, especially the humans. While the Jaffa polarized into two competing and often conflicting ideological positions, the humans were scattered everywhere, widely spread not only in terms of location but also in terms of their level of societal and technological attainment.

Humans from one world would easily have nothing in common with the closest human-settled planet. One side could invade the other with ease, while the other couldn't even leave their planet. On one world, famine was a thing of the past, while on another, a lousy crop could mean half of their population dying of starvation during the following winter. Adding aliens who had lost everything to the Goa'uld starting to roam the galaxy freely and causing additional mayhem and uncertainty, the picture it all depicted was grim at best, and catastrophic for some alarmists in the Terran Council. The aliens were scavenging tech throughout the galaxy, with most of it having belonged to the Goa'uld or some fallen race the Goa'uld had destroyed. They would then bring it everywhere and sell it on the cheap, often not even knowing what they were selling. Did those found techs cause harm or not, it wasn't sure, but it rarely helped anyone. Without the knowledge of how the technology worked or how to produce it, and especially the wisdom to know when not to use it was perilous.

And here is where TIA's request came in. The job was to canvas Genoa and discovered if it would be suitable for permanently stationing spies here. They could monitor the flow of goods and aliens who, sooner or later, came to this world at least in passing. It wasn't all that long ago that a TIA agent while deployed on a different world had come across a vendor with a stand. She couldn't believe what she saw back then, and the top brass in the Council couldn't either. The alien was selling various ornaments he must have found on a deserted planet. The problem was that one of those ornaments was a ZPM, and he was selling it for cheap change. Such wasn't an isolated occurrence that TIA agents had witnessed. The conclusion was that the Terrans would have to divert considerable resources in monitoring the Milky Way galaxy. They would need to watch what the people living in it were up to, which was in contrast with their current policy of distancing the Terran Federation from the rest of the galaxy.

David sighed again. Even after their present mission ended, they would still have more work to do—a lot more. He glanced at the ring in the middle of the room. Nothing has changed from the last time he looked. Peter was being tossed around by the little giant like a ragged doll. The weird part was that it seemed like Peter was having fun. It was true that he got beat up quite severely while they were with the Colonials. Maybe some weird switch got turned on because of it. He knew he changed after what happened to him, just like Peter might have. He still felt anger sometimes when he thought about Sylus.

David noticed three men approaching. One of them had glasses. It seemed their contact was the first to notice them. With his glasses on, David could also see the mark on the Jaffa's clothing. There was no doubt why they were here. The three Jaffa stopped in front of him.

"Why are you alone?" one of the Jaffa asked. "We were told we would meet two people."

"My partner is having some fun over there," David said while pointing towards the ring.

The Jaffa turned in the direction he pointed towards. Their faces conveyed confusion. The Jaffa looked back at him, "You are working with an alien?"

"No, the other one. The one that just got tossed is my partner," David explained. He wasn't sure if to explain further but then decided to do so anyway. "Also, the other one isn't an alien."

The Jaffa gave him the 'what nonsense are you spitting this early in the morning' look, while the Jaffa next to him was giving him the 'why are you lying to us' look. The third Jaffa seemed half catatonic. They probably brought him only as a luggage carrier. Was it so difficult to determine if the big guy was human? He couldn't understand why others were having trouble discerning that.

"Will your partner join us after the other… human stops throwing him around?" the Jaffa asked, deciding not to delve too deep into the matter of the giant's origins.

"It doesn't matter. We can make the deal without my partner present," David said.

"You alone? If you lose the cargo after we hand it to you, it may cause problems for us. I'm sure your boss would suspect us first if that were to happen."

"I don't intend to lose the cargo," David retorted. Did he look like someone who can be easily bullied? After thinking for a second about the possible answer, David realized, begrudgingly, that they both did. Compared to the Jaffa, the little giant, or most aliens present in this place, he and Peter looked skinny and weak. Some might have asked themselves, how come the wind didn't blow these two away even before they could reach the city. Wasn't this bad in his line of business? Everyone he met for the first time would think they could beat and rob him without any risk. It was true that humans, in general, were on the smaller side if compared to the likes of the Jaffa. Compared to most aliens, humans looked quite soft and tender, with their skin providing little to no protection against sharp objects or punches. The guy who fought the alien in the ring before Peter stepped in lost not because he possessed an inferior technique. On the contrary, he seemed to be better in that regard. He lost because the opponent could take his punches, seemingly with ease.

Therefore, he could not easily dismiss the statement the Jaffa had made. He indeed could be attacked at any moment by someone looking for easy prey. If, in the end, they would be able to deprive him of his belongings was another story.

He glanced around one more time to make sure that no one was watching them. So far, so good. In the end, if no one knew they were carrying valuables, there would be no reason for targeting them in the first place. He also glanced at the ring to see if Peter was wrapping things up. He was. He did look a little worse for wear, but the adversary seemed to have exhausted his strength and will to fight as well. Soon, they shook hands, both deciding that it was the right time to call it quits. "My partner just finished the fight. There's no problem now, right?"

The Jaffa watched as Peter sluggishly made his way to the table. Before he could even reach his seat, he needed to lean on one of the Jaffa for support.

"Your partner does not appear to be in great shape. What assistance can he provide if you are attacked?"

"No worries. Mr. Homer will bounce back in no time," David said. "But enough about that. I assume the briefcase holds the device, and that it is the genuine thing."

"Of course," the Jaffa said, angered by the implied allegation. "Next-generation cloaking generator."

"What can we expect?" David asked, unphased by his attitude.

"Most worlds have had time to inspect the original cloaking system found inside most Tel'tak, and many were able to develop countermeasures. With the old cloak, the chances of being discovered by those newly developed scanning systems are above forty percent, which is unacceptable for anyone who needs to sneak in on any of those worlds often," the Jaffa explained. "With this newly developed cloak, the chances of being discovered even on worlds that have deployed a vast satellite-based detection grid, fall under one percent. You must do something foolish to get detected while using this new system."

"That's impressive. That's a dream come true for any smuggler. We will test it, of course, and if, as you've said, the system works as intended, how many more of them can you deliver to us?" David asked.

"How many do you need?" the Jaffa asked.

"Our employer would like to equip all of his ships with the new tech," David said. "Let's say, five, for now. Maybe another five later."

"That should not be a problem. However, the cloak doesn't work for ships larger than an Al'kesh."

"We predicted as much. If not, the Jaffa would have fleets of invisible Ha'tak by now," David said while smiling.

"That's correct," the Jaffa replied.

Although he said that half-jokingly, David knew that Bre'lac's faction was investing a substantial amount of time and money in creating a cloaking system capable of hiding ships as large as a Ha'tak. The TIA was also aware that they were partially successful in their endeavor. The two major hurdles when making a cloaking system were the amount of energy the cloak needed to operate correctly, and the number of emissions the cloak was able to block. Turning a ship invisible was the less important part. If the craft kept radiating, they would still be visible even to the most rudimentary detection systems, much less to the more advanced scanning systems regularly employed by the more advanced races in the galaxy. The Terrans were out of the picture, though. Not the Jaffa or any other race in the galaxy knew what kind of detection system the Terrans employed, but they knew that trying to hide a ship against their tech vas a futile exercise.

The Jaffa nodded, and the luggage carrier gave the briefcase to David. There was no payment. Lars settled that in advance. Since he had already made so many deals with the Jaffa, there was no mistrust between them.

"We are leaving. I suggest you do the same," the Jaffa said while looking around. "I can feel many eyes on us."

It was true. It was nothing visible, but David could also sense people glancing at them from time to time. "Agreed. Ready to go?"

The Jaffa were already on their way out, and David was waiting for Peter to answer.

Peter holstered his gun, put his jacket on, and grabbed other smaller things that he had left with David before he went to fight the little giant. "I'm all set."

Peter was leading the way while he trailed behind carrying the briefcase. It wasn't heavy, and it didn't impede his movements by much, but it was still impossible for him to use both hands. Therefore, Peter was the one who would need to deal with any problem if such occurred.

They could have come out of Building Nine through the front, but that would have led them into a city district they had never visited before. That was never a good thing. Now that they had the goods, it was time to bring them aboard their ship asap through the best-known route. From building Nine, they went into building Four, and then by passing through a nook in the wall, they came back in building number three.

"Is it here?" David asked.

"In the next room," Peter responded.

At this point, there was not much they could do but to proceed further. Going back would achieve nothing. Slowly, step by step, they reached building number Two. While stepping inside, David scanned his surroundings. After making two more steps, the alien who was watching tv sprang into action. Peter shot him down. The alien went sprawled on the floor and with a burning hole in his right shoulder. He looked at Peter with resentment. "M-Monsters!"

"Shut up," Peter said. "You're alive. Be glad."

The wound was not life-threatening, which meant that Peter had spared his life. An act of kindness the alien should take note of and therefore stop complaining. David looked forward through the hole in the wall that led to the first building. "Two more to go."

Peter had kicked the gun of the wounded alien out of reach, while David found some cover. He waited, ready for action. Someone proffered a weapon through the large opening leading to the next building. Without delay, David shot the hand that held the gun. The man screamed. It was a voice they heard before.

"Why don't the two of you stop playing and let us leave in peace? So far, we haven't killed anyone. But if you stick with wanting to rob us, I can't guarantee that the next shot won't blow your head. Wouldn't it be sad to ruin such a pretty face?"

"You think my face is pretty?" the troglodyte who got his hand shot said.

"You idiot! He's talking about me!" the woman with sharp ears shouted. "How did you know we would ambush you?"

Her question was understandable. To her, the whole thing must look strange. After all, their target was too alert. Instead of them doing the ambushing, it almost seemed like the opposite had happened. "You should not underestimate others. I also have sharp ears."

"You heard what I said to Goro?" she said.

Goro must be the name of her partner, the bold, seven feet tall troglodyte. "You're correct. While you whispered to him what my partner said, you also mentioned that we were your mark. Can I ask another question?"

"You can ask. Not sure if I'll answer," the woman replied.

In the meantime, the alien who was watching tv and Goro slowly retreated out of sight. They were leaving, which was a good thing. "Who gave you the info about us? How did you know to target us or that we would hold something valuable?"

"Gone," Peter said.

David sighed. He had felt it too. The woman had slipped away the moment her associates were safe. She never intended to answer his question. Quite rude if someone asked him. They went to such lengths to not kill any of them. "I didn't expect her to answer anyway. If they so easily betrayed their employer, they would be out of business in no time, with nobody wanting to work with them."

"That's true. Do you think they'll try again somewhere else along the road?" Peter asked.

"The chances are slim. I can't say for certain, but they know we are fully alerted, and they have wounded. They don't seem like the suicidal type either," David concluded, but then abruptly, his mood turned sour. "Bummer. I forgot to ask her name."

"Oh, so that's your type, huh. Good to know," Peter said.

"I can't deny that," David replied. "She seemed interesting."

"Sure, sure," Peter said while smiling. "And the fact that she's an exotic beauty shouldn't be overlooked either, right?"

"Right," David replied, feeling gloomy because of the missed opportunity. However, he bounced back immediately—no time to dally. "Let's go. We still need to reach the ship, and there could be more people after us."

He was sure that many people here thought of them as easy prey, which meant that they might decide to check what kind of valuables were in that shiny briefcase.

"We did what we came here to do. We even got a general grasp of the place. Not sure if the place is ripe for posting a full surveillance team, but it's not our job to decide that either," Peter said.

Now outside the establishment, the possibilities for an ambush were slighter. No one wanted to make a big fuss in the open. The attackers could quickly become prey to others, and a passerby could snatch the briefcase during the commotion. However, the prospects of an ambush were still not zero. He would have to stay vigilant.

As they walked, one guy suddenly bumped into him. His alertness jumped into higher gear, but it turned out to be a false alarm. He was a bum who didn't look where he was going. His heartbeat barely went back down by a notch when he indeed became targeted by a thief, but only in the sense that the guy wanted to do some quick pickpocketing. Unsuccessful as he might have been, he unnerved David to no end.

"Finally!" He shouted.

They were in front of the tunnel leading to outside of the protective barrier. Without lingering any longer, they marched into the tunnel. They were nearing the exit when the howling wind brought the cold air to his face. A dozen meters later, they were fully exposed to Genoa's harsh environment. It was still summer, and the night would take a few more hours to descend. The sixty kilometers per hour wind at minus twenty degrees Celsius wasn't comfortable. Still, it wasn't life-threatening like it could be during winter, with days when the temperature never went above minus fifty.

The hangar wasn't far. It took them only a couple of minutes to reach it. While Peter went to pay what they owed to the poor guy who soloed this place, David walked in front of their ship. Using his bracelet, he disengaged the craft's security system. The shield flared for a brief moment before disappearing. The door opened, and he and Peter went inside. "Home sweet home."

"It is sad when we refer to this ship as our home," Peter commented.

"Yeah, I think that we are in desperate need of a long vacation. At least a month," David said. He liked his job. He loved the freedom, the galivanting around the galaxy, the meeting of interesting people, and as a bonus, the chance to send bad guys in prison or an early grave. But, from time to time, everybody needs a vacation.

"Not sure we can get that much free time. Even after we take down Lars, we can't stay away for too long. Our other contacts will become suspicious if we did," Peter said with a trace of melancholy in his voice. He, too, must be itching to spend some quality time back home, see his parents and friends, and above all, to relax.

"We can go missing for a week max, saying that we went underground after Lars got taken down, but more than that, and it would become fishy," David said as he sat into the pilot's seat and began powering up the various systems.

"Ah! I won't have enough time to play that game!" Peter said, now seemingly depressed. "Not fair."

"What game?" David asked.

"You know. That new game that came out," Peter replied.

"No, I don't know and don't care either. I'm not wasting the little time I'll have on Earth by playing a game," David responded.

"You say that only because you don't know what I'm talking about. Ah, what was its name? I can't remember," Peter seemed hard at work trying to remember, but it didn't look like he was making any progress.

"Oh, what do we have here," David said as he looked at the now lit display.

Peter joined him, "Huh? So many? Is there a gathering that we weren't invited to?"

"Oh, we are invited, alright," David said while shaking his head. "But this is—"

"Yeah, do they know something that we don't?" Peter replied.

"Could it be that we know something that they don't."

"Could be. No, that's not right. We definitely know something that they don't."

"Hey, it's not like we are dealing with geniuses, right?"

"Okay, let's take off and see what happens," Peter said.

David nodded and began powering the antigrav system and thrusters. The flyer slowly rose from the ground and glided toward the exit. As it slipped outside, the rear sublight engines powered up, giving the little ship additional thrust. Soon, the craft began gaining in altitude and speed.

"They are still not moving," David said. On the screen, he could see ten ships in low orbit. The reason for their presence was apparent. What he was seeing was a textbook blockade. "Did they forget?"

"Probably. Or maybe they think we won't do it," Peter answered.

David was nodding in tacit agreement. Opening a hyperspace window inside the atmosphere had its risks. The sudden hole in the fabric of space would create massive turbulence while sucking the air inside. That could be dangerous for any ship trying to enter hyperspace. However, they were already twenty klicks in the air and still climbing. With the increase in altitude, the air was becoming thinner. Even an average pilot while flying a mediocre ship could do it, and they would undoubtedly choose to brave their chances rather than having to face ten ships the likes of an Al'kesh. Ten against one wasn't a fair fight, and they should avoid it at all costs.

However, that meant that the other side should have predicted such a possibility, which further suggested that they thought a blockade in orbit was the way to go for a different reason. "It's true that most inhabited systems now have the Nox's interdiction system that prevents a hyper-window from opening, but they should remember that this world doesn't have one.

David punched the needed sequence in the console. The hyperdrive hummed happily, moments before a hyperspace window burst open. In no time, they were through. He was trying to think of the faces those aboard the orbiting ships were making right now. He still wasn't sure what the exact reason for such a blockade was. It might have been all a bluff to see how they reacted.

It didn't matter anymore. They now had a day of travel before reaching Lars' main base. David made himself comfortable. In his mind, he was trying to digest everything that happened today. First, the very moment they entered the establishment, he felt that something was off. The main reason was the alien watching tv. He seemed innocuous enough if it weren't for the crystal storage device in his possession. That was a dead giveaway. The device even had a holo-display, which meant it was high tech, especially for Genoa's standards. A poor Genoa resident couldn't have something so expensive. The second clue was the small mirror affixed above the tv that he used to see behind him. He could see every person that came through the room. Usually, nobody would notice it, but David was trained to discern such details. It was enough for David to flag the man as a spotter. He still didn't know if the man was there for them or someone else, though.

Once they reached Building Nine, the elfish woman and the little giant came at them too strong. They were a bit too eager to make contact, which further increased his vigilance. They even decided to cause an incident. Maybe they wanted to injure one of them during a seemingly innocuous fistfight, that way making it easier for them later during their ambush. With Peter hurt and him having to carry the briefcase, the thieves' chances of robbing them would undoubtedly have increased.

Not that Peter didn't help them in that regard. With his big mouth, he had given them an opportunity that otherwise they might not have had. However, Peter also played his cards right, so he wasn't blaming him for anything. He went easy on Goro, which was to give the thieves a false sense of security. He only needed to be careful not to get seriously injured, which he did by pushing the match into a harmless draw.

Seemingly exhausted, Peter tottered back to their table and leaned on one Jaffa for support. Of course, he did not need any help. He used the opportunity to accomplish their primary goal. Their mission was to tag the Jaffa with a particular radioactive isotope that would spread throughout his body, which he had achieved without arousing suspicion. They would now not only be able to trace the Jaffa's whereabouts, but every person he came in contact with would receive a small dose of the isotope through skin contact. They would be able to recreate a good portion of Bre'lac's network as long as the Jaffa came in contact with people and places.

With their job settled, they only needed to leave the place safely, but they knew from the way the elfish woman had behaved that she was waiting for them. And she wasn't alone. There were more eyes on them, as he and the Jaffa sensed while still in the bar. Probably the woman and the man were only half of the crew, as other thieves must have waited for an opportunity if Peter and he decided to leave the bar through the front instead.

"All things considered, it went well," David concluded.

"Yeah, but someone had to inform those people that we were coming. I also don't think the leak came from the Jaffa side of the deal. These people knew our faces from the start, which means that our side is responsible. Incredible! Lars makes us carry special glasses to identify the other side while half of Genoa knows how we look." Peter seemed angry at how Lars put needless precautions in place but left massive security holes in his back yard wide open.

"You're forgetting that Lars letting us, two Terran spies, join his ranks, is the greatest blunder he has ever made," David said. "But that's to be expected. I mean, Lars is just a regular guy who was lucky enough to find some Goa'uld tech. He also had no misgivings in turning his people into slaves and then sell them for profit. The typical villain. However, we know from the many hours that we spent with the asshole that he's no genius."

"Sad to say it but, that's a good thing. Lars being so dumb, I mean. Although, this leak could have put us in grave danger if the people targeting us were better prepared."

"I think that we are dealing with Lars' competition here, which, in my opinion, are not geniuses either. I do think they got to one or more of his men, though. Well, it's not our job to help Lars find out who the mole is. It will be all over soon anyway. For him, and the mole."

---

"It's pretty," Jack said while leaning over the glass casings found on top of Sam's desk. They were in Sam's office on Starbase One—the almost finished, largest space station the Terrans ever made—currently floating in geosynchronous orbit above Terrania. Right now, Jack wasn't in the best of moods. He was dragged here too early in the morning (9:12 am), to see the gizmo now in front of him. The jury was still out if it was worth it.

"Not the point," Sam answered. "What do we do with it? That's what I want to hear."

"Good question," Jack said, but he didn't bother spending any time thinking about an actual answer. "How did we name it?"

"Well, a few people gave it the tentative name of ZPC, as in Zero Point Cube, but the majority hasn't received it well," Sam answered a little miffed.

'She must be one of those who wanted to call it that way,' Jack mulled for a moment. Even though he didn't particularly like the name, if he was to support her here, he might gain some good-will points with her. "What's so wrong about that? We use so many three-letter acronyms already that I forget what they mean the next instant. Yet we keep using more of them with each passing day. What's so different this time?" Jack asked, but, even though he tried, he could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He probably won't gain any points today, after all.

"Got it, you're not a fan. Anyway, what's wrong is that the moment everybody saw it, they started calling it the Tesseract. I'm not sure if I'm more frustrated they are calling it Tesseract because of the obvious reference, or that they are putting the article 'the' in front every time, even when they shouldn't. It would be like, every time that you see a Zero Point Module; you call it the ZPM," Sam explained. She was annoyed—no doubt about it.

"Well, it is a unique piece," Jack said, but then he turned to look through the glass wall at the culprit. He was sitting in the adjacent room, awaiting sentencing. "That is unless he can make another one."

"Even he can't pull that off," Sam said while shaking her head in apparent denial. "Even this one time is too much for many people to believe that it happened. Aenea is quite annoyed by the whole ordeal."

Jack was still looking at the sad sod that went by the name of Felger. While seated uncomfortably on a chair, he looked like the usual criminal who had been found guilty and was awaiting a harsh sentence. "Why is Aenea annoyed?"

"As you should know, the behavior of exotic particles cannot be predicted—It is simply impossible. To create a ZPC, we need to bring 2.71828182846e31 exotic particles with a cumulative mass of 21 grams into our spacetime. And then, they need to harmonize. The Alterrans, from whom we have learned the procedure, created a field capable of holding the exotic particles for a short period. During that time, the particles must enter a harmonizing state with each other, a state that even the Alterran do not fully understand. However, since exotic particles are unpredictable, the success or failure of the experiment is left to chance—a minuscule one at that," Sam explained.

"No, even if you say that I should know something, it doesn't make it true, you know," Jack said irritated. What part of her rumbling should he have known? "So, what was the chance of creating that thing? One in a gazillion?" Jack said.

"One in a gazillion might be too optimistic. Anyway, that did not discourage the Alterrans one bit from trying. Since they had a lot of free time, they decided to work on creating at least one, no matter what. So, they started making facilities throughout the galaxy, all with the sole purpose of making a ZPC. Just as a reminder, three distinct outcomes are possible while making it. The first is for the Tesseract—damn it! I called it that way, too—the first is for the thing to collapse instantly, which is the most common outcome. The second result can be when it forms into the desired shape—the one you see in front of you—but it collapses in less than a day. That's what the Alterrans call attaining a fake-harmonizing state—an undesirable result that makes you waste up to an entire day for no good reason until it breaks apart. The last one is when it survives for more than a day, which also means that you succeeded in making one ZPC.

"The Alterrans made many of those fake-harmonized ZPCs that lasted less than a day. They made so many that they started a betting pool, betting on when a ZPC would disappear. That went on for many years until, one day, the Alterran Council decided that they had wasted enough time looking at the things vanishing. They could spend that time on more fruitful endeavors. Anyway, while working on making ZPCs, the dedicated facilities slowly, one after the other, went out of order. They—"

"Wait, wait! Going out of order?" Jack asked. "We all know how durable the facilities the Alterran make are. What timespan are we talking about here?"

"Aenea didn't say, but we are talking about a race that prospered for millions of years. They are not called the Ancients for no reason. She also seemed annoyed by my question. As if I asked her how old she was. I know very well not to make such a blunder, but why was she pissed at me when I asked her how much time it took them to make the Tesseract—damn it! I called it like that again!" Sam shouted before taking a calming breath. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. The gist of it is that, while facilities went out of service one after another, one lonely facility on a deserted planet, one day sent an alert that it had constructed a stable ZPC."

"They made one!?" Jack was happy to hear it. He hated stories in which the effort put was repaid only with unabated frustration.

"They sure did," Sam responded.

"So, where is it?" Jack asked. Might it be that it is on Atlantis but hidden somewhere?

"They lost it," Sam deadpanned.

"Oh, that's a bummer," The news made Jack feel saddened. "How did they manage to lose it?"

"It was during the time of the Great Plague. The ship Nostros was on its way to the Pegasus galaxy, but it never reached it; they don't know why. The ship had the Tes—the thing on board."

"Of course that Aenea is annoyed! It took them probably a million years and many facilities to succeed in making just a single one, yet, that guy over there makes it at his first try!" Jack said while giving Felger the 'look what you did' stare. Even though in the other room, Felger felt it. While shivering like a scared kitten, he glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source of the dread he suddenly began feeling.

"That's right. Felger stormed into his friend's lab, pushed a button that he shouldn't have pushed, and voila! Here's a freshly baked Tesseract for ya!" Sam said.

Jack turned to look at the Tesseract, a translucent cube with each side approximately five inches long. Inside, one could see tiny stars releasing a constant golden glow. Its edges were firmly gripped in shiny Neutronium, which was then affixed on barely perceptible threads to the transparent casing. It seemed as if the Tesseract was floating midair. "Is there a danger in handling it?"

"Nope. You can beat it with a hammer or toss it inside a star, and nothing would happen. That cube is a separate region, outside of our space-time continuum. For all we know, inside that thing, albeit different from ours, is a separate universe," Sam explained.

"So, what do we do with it? Can we use it for something?"

"Aenea explained to me that it's incredibly difficult to interact with it. The only thing the Alterrans succeeded was to extract energy from it."

"How much?"

"Power output equaling dozens of fully charged ZPMs. No limit to the amount of energy supplied."

"That seems nice," Jack said. "Although, I still have no clue how we should exploit that."

"Nobody does."

"Could we put it inside a ship? Or maybe not," Jack said, unsure.

"That would be a waste. No ship of ours can work with such a massive power output."

"That's true," Jack said. Components on any of their ships would start melting even at ten percent the max power output the thing could deliver. He suddenly remembered when Thor and he went looking for the Furling Legacy when Thor's Valhalla's was equipped with five additional Asgard Cores. During the fight, the ship was alit like a Christmas tree, both on the outside and the inside. Every component was screaming that it was too much power going through it. In the end, the ship survived the Leptinian relentless attacks while the two of them were looking for the legacy on the planet's surface. "We would need a custom-made ship for it—one tailored to work with the amount of power a Tesseract can output."

"Yeah, but who's gonna design and develop such a monstrous ship when we have only one ZPC available? It would take lots of resources and countless research hours to make it, which means diverting resources from other important projects," Sam said.

"No, we are in the middle of a war. Now it's not the time to start a new project that could take longer than a year to complete," Jack stated, trying hard to find a use for the glowing object in front of him. "We could use it to charge ZPMs, at least."

"True, but I would somehow feel bad to use something so unique and precious as a measly battery charger. Don't you think it is too depressing to do that? Besides, in the past year, we've built many charging stations near black holes. We also have many stations spread in space that use the Arcturus reactors to charge additional ZPMs. Even if we used the Tesseract—damn it, not again—even then, the benefits would be negligible."

"What if we put the thing on display for all races to see. Then we affix a gaudy plaque below it saying: Look what we can make! We even have the leisure to put it on display instead of using it! You can all go and die of envy!"

"I'm not even gonna reply to that one," Sam said.

"Ah, who cares! We'll find a way to use the damn thing. If not today, then tomorrow. The fact remains that this guy left us another hot potato in our hands we have to deal with. It's not strange that Thor is wary of him," Jack said while looking at Felger. The man quivered again.

"Thor is? Why?" Sam asked.

"Ah, you wouldn't know; you weren't there," Jack said.

"What are you talking about?"

Even though in the other room, Jack began speaking in a hushed tone so that Felger wouldn't overhear him. "First, let's go through the man's history of things he shouldn't have made but made them anyway. He devised the Tricobalt bomb—Thor didn't like that one in the slightest—then he worked on the gravitational barrier that forced all Asgard ships to adopt the Aegis shielding system—more work for the Asgard to do in updating their ships and planetary defenses—and then he put his paws on the Quantum Disruptor Beam research, which again forced the Asgard to rework their entire arsenal.

"But what can you do, right?" Jack said, implying that there was no choice to be had. You had to do it the moment a new tech sprung into existence. "Those are all important improvements that we need and that we can't miss on even one of them. So, Thor and I, we were discussing things one day, leisurely—if you remember, it was during that shindig we put up to impress the other races on how good of a job we are doing—when suddenly Felger joined us on our table. Thor was mentioning how we finally have a shielding system that cannot be penetrated except through brute force. I mean," Jack said before starting to count with his fingers as he kept talking, "a gravitational barrier, the improved primary shield, and an armor reinforcing energy field that makes the hull ten times tougher. That's three tough nuts to crack the enemy needs to beat before harming the ships that have the Aegis installed. The only way to bring them down is to pour enough firepower to cause an overload in a critical system—not an easy thing to do—or to deplete the ship's energy reserves, which takes time to do.

"But that, it seemed, was the wrong thing to say in front of Felger. Felger's brain must have gone in overdrive. In an instant, he came up with a reply that shattered all Thor's hopes and dreams of keeping their ships the way they were for more than two straight months before needing to upgrade them again from top to bottom. Felger just shouted happily: Not at all! It shouldn't be that difficult to come up with a way to beat Aegis!

"Of course, Thor and I were stumped by such a ridiculous announcement. We thought: yeah, all crazy scientists say that, but then when it comes time to deliver, they are nowhere to be found, right?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm not one of those crazy scientists you speak of," Sam retorted while narrowing her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," Jack said, taken aback a little. "So, anyway, we did as any regular person would. We asked him to give us an example of how he would do it—even a vague one would suffice, we said—thinking that he would falter. Oh boy, how wrong we were. He began spitting words as fast as a Gatling does bullets. He said: It's easy! We could make drones that create a Quantum Disruption Field (QDF) around them. As a drone hits its target, it modulates its QDF in an instant and annihilates anything it comes in contact with!

"Can you believe it!" Jack shouted. "He said that such a weapon could potentially penetrate them all in one pass. Like the gravitational barrier that we spent years to develop, or the primary shield that we worked so hard on improving to unseen heights, or the reinforced armor's strengthening field that we spent so much time reverse engineering from my wristband. He said it like it was nothing!

"But we were still not completely discouraged. Even I know how big the QDBs installed on our ships are. They take a considerable portion of a ship! How were we to put all that inside a tiny drone? Armed with such questions, Thor and I ganged up on Felger. We thought, there's no way he would solve such a huge problem in the short time before we ended eating dinner."

"So, what happened then?" Sam asked. She was eager to hear more.

"We were wrong again. After some thinking, he began pointing at my bracelet, all excited. He then started shouting: Bigger on the inside than on the outside! Bigger on the inside than on the outside! He sounded like a broken record. We had to shush him before other guests started complaining.

"But we already knew that he had found the right tech for the job. A portion of my bracelet is shifted into a higher dimension, or that's what others tell me; I'm not sure myself how's that even possible," Jack said, losing the train of thought, but quickly recovering. "Anyway, it meant that we indeed have the tech to put a lot more into a drone than what its diminutive size would suggest as the limit.

"In the end, Felger came up with the whole weapon in less than an hour. Can you believe it!" Jack said.

"And so? How did it end?" Sam asked. There was eagerness in her voice.

"Then Thor assaulted him with a barrage of science questions that I didn't get, but from Thor's face, I knew that Felger was able to answer them all. I'm telling you, that guy was on fire that day. He even kept a smug face the whole time because he knew that he had thought of something revolutionary—again! By that time, Thor was already resigned, maybe even depressed; I don't know. I mean, who wouldn't? The guy came up with an idea for a weapon that targets the Aegis, our best defensive system! Why would we want that!?"

"So, finish it already! How did it end?" Sam asked again.

"Calm down, I'm coming to it," Jack said, slowing down his recount even further before delivering the big finale. "So, Thor and I looked at each other for a brief moment before I gave him a subtle nod. Thor understood right away. I'm telling you, it was like he could read my mind. He used that thingy that the Asgard carry on their left hand to zap Felger's memories of that evening into oblivion," Jack explained, proud of how promptly they had solved the problem. "And then we proceeded to talk about the weather for the rest of the evening."

"Ah!" Sam shouted, shocked. "Now I get why Felger seemed so spaced out the next day when I asked him how the dinner went. He told me that he didn't remember much, except that you and Thor kept talking about the weather. I thought he might have drunk too much, but now I know better. Wow, Jack. That's quite a cruel thing to do to a person. It is even more so to do it to a scientist. But I understand your worries. A Felger without breaks is terrifying."

"Right? I mean, look at what he made next. It took the Alterrans a gazillion years to make one, and this guy comes inside the lab and starts fiddling on a project that isn't even his and makes the thing just like that! Is it luck, or is it the opposite? Thor's also worried what might be next on our craziest scientist's to-do list of unbelievably hazardous inventions that should never be made, but he makes them anyway—while smiling!" Jack had to mention that the dude smiles a lot, for some reason. The wackier the thing he did, the broader—and more terrifying—his smile looked. Even now, he had a half-crazed smile plaster on his face while sitting and awaiting judgment. Incredible.

"Yeah, maybe we should send him to some remote outpost where he can't do any damage," Sam said while sadly looking at the culprit in the next room.

"I don't believe it would help, Sam. He made the Tesseract while visiting a friend while on vacation. We can't forbid him from taking a leave from time to time. Can we?" Jack said, spacing out for a moment while in deep thought. Maybe they could seclude the guy for a decade somewhere in-between galaxies with some dumb excuse. Felger wasn't very bright when it came to trickery that would get him in a bad spot anyway.

"With him, you're not sure if you'd want to praise him or punish him," Sam said dejectedly.

"Oh, I know! Why don't we give him a Nobel Prize—or two—and then send him on a tour of Earth to give lectures about the good work our scientists are doing in keeping the planet safe," Jack said. He was quite content with the idea he got.

"I see. So, a punishment it is," Sam said. "Although, I'm not sure if Felger's speeches would make people on Earth feel safer, or if they would all go home trembling in fear afterward. Not because they are afraid of the aliens, but rather of what Felger would make next."

"Hmm, that's true. Couldn't we sell that also as a good point? We inform the people of the danger unrestricted research can bring," Jack said. He still didn't want to give up on his brilliant plan of shipping Felger somewhere where he could do the least of damage, which was far from any lab on any of the research stations the Terrans had.

"It might work, but we would have to be careful, even while he's on Earth. I mean, even on the surface, there are places with a button or two to push," Sam said.

"Well, whatever. We can come up with a plan of shipping Felger somewhere safe later," Jack said. He was looking at the helmet on Sam's desk. "You're using it?"

Sam glanced toward the same helmet. "Yeah, almost every day. You?"

"Not as much. I'm still at the tutorial stage," Jack said.

"Why are you still there?"

"Because Walter is my assistant, and you know what happens when he finds out that I'm not working."

"Oh," was Sam's simple reply. A trace of sympathy might have been present inside that word, but it had been mightily faint, and it was gone in the blink of an eye.

In short, he got no compassion for his tribulations. Not even from Sam.

Jack had tried to sell Walter. His first potential buyer was his double. He wanted to dump Walter with the excuse that, since there are two of them, they should share fortune and misfortune in equal amounts. Hence, it was his time now to have Walter. However, with blinding speed that made him believe that his double had attained the power of clairvoyance, the other Jack slammed the door in his face before he could even enter. His first and best chance for freedom was lost in an instant. No wonder, though. The other Jack knew best what kind of hardship he had gone through with Walter.

The next thought that crossed his mind was to sack the guy. But how could he accomplish such a feat? What would he write as the reason for Walter's dismissal? Too efficient? Too diligent? No matter how he looked at it, others would rebuke him, saying that there's no such a thing as too efficient or too thorough. They would be wrong! Walter was a clear example of how an assistant should not be. Assistants must be lazy at least fifty percent of the time. That way, their bosses can claim that it wasn't them who was slacking off, but the assistant was at fault for not giving them what they needed in a timely fashion. A good assistant would give their boss the best excuse for skipping work.

Jack could choose to set the record straight and tell that he was ditching Walter because he was giving him too much work to do. He could say that he could not take it anymore. That was an option. But, wouldn't such a statement show who in their relationship was the boss?

With his idea to sack Walter gone before it even fully formed, Jack began wandering the halls in search of a victim. Someone who would appreciate Walter, wanting nothing more than to swap their lazy assistant for an ultra-deluxe model capable of filling your table with paperwork in ten seconds flat and annoy you until you worked everything or fainted due to exhaustion.

But he was unsuccessful. Even going directly to various assistants and asking them to come working for him turned out as a failure. At first, he didn't know why. In his opinion, he was such a great boss that any assistant should beg to come working for him. Only later did he hear about a rumor that began going around at the same time. Apparently, bosses all over Terrania had started pampering their assistants. Strange occurrences like bosses bringing coffee to their assistant, or bosses coming to work before they did, were witnessed on many occasions. Later, he learned that an alert memo was sent informing everybody that Jack was on a poaching expedition to find a new assistant. Everyone was suddenly cherishing their assistants! Didn't that confirm that they all knew Walter was bad news?

"Oi! Why are you spacing out?" Sam called on him.

It was true. He did space out, and it was because of some bad memories. "I told you, I don't have the leeway to play the game, even though I want to. Besides, I'm kind of stuck."

"You are? What's the quest?" she asked.

"Since it's still the tutorial phase, it is a pretty straight forward one. As a Chaos agent, my first mission is on a world almost identical to our Earth. It's just that the time is around the eighties. I'm impersonating an FBI agent who has to solve a drug problem in a small town."

"And you're unable to finish it?" Sam asked.

"No, I can finish it whenever I want, but I don't like the outcome," Jack said. "Plus, I made a mistake and put the game in ultra-realistic mode. Even traveling between towns takes the same amount of time as it would take in the real world. Not that I mind all that much. That part is quite relaxing. I'm driving an old Ford Mustang, so it's quite enjoyable."

"You know that you can change the setting like the level of authenticity even while in the middle of a mission, right?" Sam said.

"I can? Didn't know that." Jack thought about how he never thought he would be playing a game, but here he was.

It all started about a year ago. Earth was changing, and it was doing it unpredictably. Earth was progressing at a staggering pace, which was a good thing, but no one knew where it would all lead. Many technologies might seem incredible, but they could harm people in the long run. Therefore, someone came to the thought: why not simulate everything and see what happens? The result was the development of v-Earth, a virtual reality that recreated Earth in every detail. People would log in and seemingly spend their time the same as on Earth.

However, after the launch, that fact began changing quickly. That's because they started introducing technologies that changed the way people spent their days. They updated the system to allow for teleportation. It was a virtual world, so that was easy to do. They created a virtual shopping system that would enable a person to peruse through products, be it milk or a car, in as much detail as possible, and that would instantly be delivered in front of their house or inside their fridge upon purchase. Of course, the most significant change from the social experiment's standpoint was that everything was free.

The result of these newly introduced changes into how the world worked, was mind-blowing. Streets were suddenly devoid of cars. Why would anyone drive a car when they can teleport? Shopping could be done from home — the same as working. Even meeting friends could be done inside a virtual chatroom, which could look the same as your favorite bar. Only sporadically would people be forced to leave their homes. Even walking the dog could be done by a rented dogwalker drone for zero T-credits. It was all virtual anyway.

The changes were quite fast and frightening. Many people could not cope with them in time. However, the scariest part was that, with the technology the Federation had at its disposal, it could bring such a scenario to the real Earth with relative ease. The jury was still out on if Earth society would benefit from so much change or if it would spiral into a decadent one. They had witnessed it on a few worlds before. The technology that turned people into sloths, unable to do anything without some system helping them or completely doing it for them.

No matter what the future held for Earth, v-Earth would keep going, and people could spend up to eight hours a day inside it. But that wasn't all that they developed. The company working on the project decided that since they already had the infrastructure to create a virtual world as complex as the Earth, why not make a game out of it as well. That was how Nexus: Chaos Agent came into existence. The game could have a limitless number of worlds attached to the Nexus. It wasn't just the lead company that made new worlds. Other companies could design their worlds that followed their own rules and then attach them to the Nexus.

Be it in ancient Rome or the distant future, be it a world filled with magic and magical beast where one swung a sword every day or a world filled with aliens, it was all possible. Even animated worlds for children were developed.

In the game, one played the role of a chaos agent. All agents resided inside the Nexus, from where they could pick up quests that would send them to the appropriate world. There they could spend as much time as they wanted to solve, not just the single quest that brought them to that world, but other quests as well. Once a world was unlocked, they could visit it at any time. It just cost Nexus points to do it. Nexus points could be used to buy things inside the Nexus, to travel to other worlds, and to update their stats and skillsets. Another critical difference in the game was the goal of the missions and how the reward system worked.

"Why didn't you like the outcome?" Sam asked.

"I didn't get all the bad guys," Jack said, a little frustrated. He wanted to catch all the bad guys involved.

"You rarely achieve that. It's not the point either," Sam said. "The point is to cause positive change, that's why you're called a Chaos Agent. Missions can be good or bad. You might be able to catch all the bad guys or might even let them flee. The system will calculate how much of a positive change is to be expected based on your actions. That will reward you the most. You would get some penalties if you relied too much on NPCs, like if you called the cavalry immediately even though you barely found any incriminating evidence."

"True, I almost got the max score the last time I finished the quest. I hate that the corrupt sheriff got away, though, you know," Jack said a little mad.

"Oh, that happened to me too. He's a slippery one, but it doesn't change your final score because he ran away. The positive changes you brought to that town remain the same. So, I suggest you leave the tutorial and finally delve deeper into the game."

"I don't know. With the little time I have, with Walter and all, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up," Jack said. "Besides, the game is bound to get confusing when you start traveling to different worlds, right? I mean, what happens when I travel to a world in ancient times or one with swords and magic, and I bring a machine gun and a lot of bullets with me. I got to have some unfair advantage in that case."

"You would, but the system doesn't let you. While traveling through the Nexus, it allows you to bring various things with you from one world to the other, but there are penalties. The system calculates how rare an item is in the world you're about to travel to. The rarer the item, the more Nexus Points (NP) you'd have to splurge. Bringing something like a machine gun to a world that doesn't have anything even close—forget reward from completing a quest. You wouldn't have enough points even to travel there."

"Okay, that makes sense. It is a little bad, though that you can't bring a gun to a medieval world, even one with magic. It would be fun."

"There are worlds where you can. Those are called hell-worlds."

"Hell-worlds?" Jack asked.

"Yeah. Fallen worlds overrun by demons or aliens or evil gods or whatever. Their civilization is usually at the brink of destruction, so it's a massive quest given by the Nexus system to whoever wants to switch from an RPG to a more FPS style game for a while. Not much thinking there. Just bring whatever weapon you want and shoot at the demons. Those are also the few places where you can die and respawn."

That was another thing that he needed time to understand. One could not die during quests. Well, they could, but the system worked on a rewind system. At any point, a player could rewind as much as they wanted and as many times as they wanted. Or more precisely, as many times or as far back as their reserves of NP allowed it. If they didn't have any more NP, the mission would be a failure.

"But what about a mage going to a world where there are no mages? Wouldn't they have an unfair advantage?" Jack asked.

"They thought of that too. A world without magic is a world where there's no mana. To use magic, one would need to bring mana crystals with them. The situation is the same as with a gun brought in a world that doesn't have any. Bringing even one mana crystal to a world that doesn't have mana would leave you destitute. I mean, maybe the Raven team can afford to bring a gun to a magical world or a mana crystal to a magicless world, but I sure don't have the funds."

"Raven team? Who's that?" Jacks said. He wasn't all that invested in the game community.

"That's the current top team in the game. Raven managed to finish a high difficulty world. Twenty people are the core members, and they went to a world where most players don't even know what they are supposed to do. The quest only stated something like, make things better. That quest also shows what the developers meant by 'quest rewarded by the amount of positive change' instead of simple straight forward missions."

"So, what's so special about that world and the quest?"

"The people on the world were stagnating, with their future bleak. As the story goes, if things kept going the way they did, that world would start moving backward, both a technological and societal regression—no wonder no one knew what to do to make things better. I mean, the whole quest was on a planetary scale. But the Raven team did it in only two months, or six in-game months if you will. The twenty of them were able to work from the shadows and cause a massive war to spring between the two largest countries in the world. Their actions were evil, no matter how one looked at it, but the system calculated a net positive change that would follow in the following decades. The people on the planet overcame their stagnant mentality and began—well, let's say they began progressing again."

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of such quests," Jack said.

"I'm not either, but that's one of the reasons why we have determined that this game will be an even bigger social experiment than v-Earth. Infinite worlds, infinite possibilities, constant quests where people choose how to bring change, be they good or evil, it doesn't matter. That's why they are called chaos agents; because they bring chaos wherever they go.

"Then, all that is constantly fed to the dedicated Asgard Cores, and something will somehow be deduced out of it all in a decade or two. In the meantime, people are having fun. It's also alleviating the problem of the decline in available jobs on Earth. More and more things are being done by automated systems these days, which doesn't necessarily have to be a good thing."

Jack understood the logic. With the influx of new tech Earth was experiencing, the drop in the number of available jobs was inevitable. Things would also get worse as time progressed. So, the question was how to solve the problem? Well, they didn't have an exact blueprint on how to solve it, but one way was to slow down technological progress to a level that allowed people to prepare for it. Another method was to lower living expenses and to do so on a global scale. The truth was, people could share their work with others and work only half the time. This way, everyone would have a job. The problem was that no one wanted to receive half the pay. Or rather, it wasn't about the amount, but what they could do with the paycheck they received. They wanted to go to the movies, they wanted clothes, and they wanted entertainment and good food. They wanted as much of everything as they could get. That was why everybody wanted to get a bigger paycheck, no matter if it meant working ten hours a day or if it meant someone else having no job opportunity at all.

But what if most of the things that people wanted was available inside the virtual world, at zero cost? Wouldn't then people decide to work less and spend more time in the virtual world where things were free or at least much cheaper? Reaching one's favorite bar in town in the virtual world was instantaneous. Doing the same in the real world required a car, gasoline, and half an hour of driving, which meant a waste of money and time. Those were expenses that could be negated if done in the virtual world.

Jack thought they were onto something with the whole virtual world thingy, but he felt that they should also be cautious. He was glad that they had put a limit on the number of hours one could spend inside it. If not, other problems might arise, like people's dependency on the system increasing, with cases where they didn't even sleep if it weren't inside the virtual world.

Ah, well, he didn't care all that much. Since Asgard AI cores located on Terrania powered the whole system, he had the key to shut down the entire thing if it went in the wrong direction. At that moment, he felt a shiver going down his spine. He imagined what would happen if he indeed shut it down. He could almost see it—an endless stream of people swimming towards Terrania. Players who wanted to lynch him. He would turn from hero to absolute villain with the push of a button. That didn't sound pleasant.

"I'll try playing it, but I still think the system is meant more for younger generations."

"What are you talking about? My previous neighbor, while I was living in Colorado, is playing the game. She's seventy-eight," Sam said, letting the point sink before continuing. "She even thanked me for making the system. She can finally soar into the sky on top of a dragon, without her muscles aching. She even asked me when we will prolong the eight-hour limit. In truth, I think that older people might find the game even more invigorating than the younger ones. After all, the young can still run with their own two legs in the real world, the same as in the virtual one."

He didn't even think about that. He blamed his change into an Alterran, because, although he might be categorized as an elderly on earth, his body was in its best shape ever. Even better than it was thirty years ago. Because of it, he didn't think about the elderly and the disabled as having a new chance at an active life. "Let's hope that it doesn't go too far. Your neighbor asking for longer game time is a clear indicator of what might happen if we're not careful. Well, enough about the game. I just casually asked if you were playing it, and we ended up talking about it for twenty minutes."

"True," Sam replied. "I also wanted to ask you if there's anything new happening elsewhere."

"Anything specific?" Jack asked. A lot of things were happening in a lot of places.

"No, nothing like that. I just wanted to be kept in the loop. Ever since I relinquished my seat in the Council and became the Fourth Admiral in charge of the TFN's research, I feel kinda left out of the loop."

"Hmm, let me think," Jack thought about it for a moment. "Oh, there is that news about a new type of Crab on Quiril."

"By Crab, you mean the crab-like aliens that the Vargas deployed to depopulate the planet?" Sam asked.

"Yep, those creatures. There's the news they evolved again," Jack said.

"Into what?" Sam asked.

"More in the same line. From the first time it evolved, it was apparent that the Crabs were turning into something excelling at ambushes and guerilla warfare in general. They are faster and stealthier than before, and their pincers have turned into something like scythes, one bigger and one smaller. They are also nasty because they spit acid. Even when you stab them or put a storm of bullets in them, you get sprayed by acid. I'm telling you, I saw the video, it's like an acid fountain. Their speed is also something that should barely be possible. You know, physics and all that."

"So, we are dealing with 'Alien' on steroids," Sam asked.

"Pretty much," Jack replied.

"Ugh, I hate those things."

"I do, too, but it's good that we have an entire world here where we can play with them. Our troops are getting used to the Crabs, and it's better to learn here than out there when we meet the Vargas again," Jack said.

"Any news on that front?" Sam asked.

"Not much. No matter what tech you have, billions of light-years remain billions of light-years that you have to cross, which takes time. I know that we have to take control of the IC1011 galaxy, but that thing is three million light-years in diameter. Canvassing is already a massive endeavor. Preparing the necessary logistics to fight a war is turning into a nightmare," Jack said.

As far as they knew, IC1011 was the central hub for all Vargas activities in this region of the universe. It was located one billion light-years away from the Milky Way. However, it had so many Vargas hubs leading to distant galaxies that the region of influence was even more extensive. If they were able to shut down all the anomalies leading in and out of it, the Vargas' infrastructure would sustain a massive blow. On the other hand, the SGA would gain a vital beachhead.

"What about the aliens Weir and Shepard met?"

"The last aliens Weir met were the Illari. A race of tiny creatures. They are all below three feet. They also appear to move incredibly fast," Jack explained.

"How fast?" Sam asked.

"So fast that you can barely see them," Jack said. Sam had a look saying that she didn't quite understand. "They have developed a device that we don't have. It is called a zero-mass drive. When active, the mass goes to zero, which means—"

"Which means that even the smallest push propels them at an unimaginable speed. But how are they not dying splattered on some wall?" Sam asked.

"Well, they are not ready to share the secret of their tech. Not just yet. Also, they were able to make a zero-mass drive capable of doing the same for their ships," Jack explained.

"Oh, my. Isn't that quite the incredible technology," Sam said, with sparks in her eyes.

"They demonstrated how a ship could shift position at the speed of light. The only limit is that once the device is activated, the ship can't make any course corrections probably because they would get splattered all over the walls if they did. It also consumes a lot of energy to activate, and the expenditure increases exponentially with the increase in the ship's mass. Their ships are on the smaller side, just like them. Even if we agreed—they are interested in a swap for a steady supply of micro ZPMs that they could then charge inside their ships—we could use their tech only inside our smaller ships. They think the Defiant is the biggest ship that could take advantage of the zero-mass drive," Jack explained.

"It would be great if we can get our hands on that tech," Sam said while deep in thought. "What about Shepard?" she asked.

"Oh, Shepard's encounter with aliens was some half a month ago. No, it was longer than that. How quickly does time fly."

"Jack, focus."

"Oh, okay," Jack said. He had lost his train of thought again. "That was a strange encounter. John thought he would have to spend days talking to the aliens, trying to convince them to join their cause. But it turns out, they agreed, the instant they met. Only later did he learn that the aliens own a system that allows them to experience the future, but afterward, they can rewind to a specific point in the past. John thought that they haven't even spoken, but it turns out that the aliens have run simulations dozens of times, every time reverting. So, the last time they reverted, they informed that they are happy to join the fight against the Vargas. That was especially the case since it appears that John promised to give them a power source that will greatly increase their ability to rewind time, even though he didn't remember doing it. Being able to rewind time should be a good ability when we face the Vargas. It is almost like giving you the chance to redo the mistakes you made as you make them."

"That's good. If we manage to gain a few more allies that hold similarly powerful tech or abilities, we may even stand a chance in this war."

"You're not very positive about this whole war, are you?" Jack said.

"Hope is the last to die, they say, but I would rather not rely on hope or luck in the first place. The first step for me is not to be optimistic about the war. Simply saying things like, good always prevails, or we will find a way, and then we storm head-on half-prepared, that's not my style. Usually, thinking that way is a recipe for disaster. Let's come up with a hundred trump cards so that the Vargas don't know what hit them. That's the way I want for us to prepare for this war."

"I get where you're coming from, but let's not spread the idea of our future being bleak to the wind. You don't like thinking about hope or luck or destiny, but to most people, those things might give the necessary strength to push through."

"I know that. I wasn't planning to go in public, shouting that we are doomed. But I do want us to think of yet another card that we can play in the war, even if we think that we don't need it," Sam said.

Jack agreed with her. More ultimate trump cards would be great. However, at that moment, and for reasons he couldn't fully understand, the image of Felger popped inside his mind, and it wasn't because they had forgotten about him or anything. "Maybe Felger is one of those cards."

"Felger? You mean it?" Sam asked while taken aback.

"Yeah. I mean, we find a way to deliver Felger to the Vargas, and the next day the Vargas are gone. Nobody knows why. We only find Felger, alone, and with the creepiest smile we've ever seen plastered on his face," Jack explained his ultimate trump card.

Sam's face contorted. Jack didn't know if she was trying to convey the 'as if that would ever work!' or the 'can you get serious for once!' thought without saying a word. True, the chances of that working were negligible, but not zero. Everyone who knew Felger well would know that.

"Can we get serious here?" Sam asked.

"Fine, fine, no need to get all riled up. Well, it is true that if we want to find trump cards, we will have to start thinking creatively. We will have to find ideas that neither we or the Vargas, would think of. Can we get someone to start working on those Vargas missiles?" Jack asked.

"What missiles?"

"Those that create a massive gravitational force. It is because of those monstrosities that Earth got hammered," Jack explained.

Because of them, the shield protecting Earth had been warped during the Battle of Earth. If it weren't for those missiles, Earth would have sustained zero casualties and no damage at all. Instead, mount Everest wasn't the tallest mountain anymore, and the disaster in Asia was massive.

"Now that you mention it since we are now on the offensive, such weapons should come in handy when we target large Vargas installations. I'll talk to Rodney about it. We need to find some scientists who're good at that kind of research," Sam spoke while deep in thought.

Jack felt a shiver down his spine. He looked at Sam, and she too suddenly showed signs of distress. Both of them slowly turned and looked at the person sitting in the adjacent room. Felger must have noticed their gazes because he turned to face them. Instinctively, he must have felt danger. As a defensive mechanism, a big smile formed on his face.

"That's damn creepy," Jack said. His instincts were telling him that he should look away. "That smile. I can barely look at it."

"Yeah, now that you mentioned that smile, I'm starting to notice it myself. It is a little scary," Sam said. "So, are we going to give the research to him or—"

"I don't know how to answer that. If we give him the job, the chances are that he'll deliver," Jack said, but still felt unsure. "The only question is if what we get will be the same as what we ordered."

"I think the best thing is to check if we have any level 5 lab available first and foremost," Sam said.

Level 5 was a classification for labs where the most dangerous research was done. The labs alone had to be placed in the void of space with no planets or station anywhere near them. Other security measures were implemented to make sure the safety of the people in the labs and the ability to destroy anything that was created and turned out to be too dangerous. "Yeah, and while we check things out and up the facility by one level, we send Felger to tour Earth for a month or two. That should keep him away from trouble for a time."

"that could work—wait! We don't have a higher level than 5," Sam said.

"We will after today. Let's call it… Danger Level Felger. It's the one atop all the other levels. Even if we add more levels, they will always be below Danger Level Felger," Jack said, but then snapped back to reality. "Ah, I had enough. I'm going back to… somewhere. See you tomorrow, Sam."

"Are you leaving me alone to deal with him?" Sam asked.

"Hey, he is your scientist," Jack said while waving, already halfway out of her office. "Goodbye, Felger."

"Yes, sir! Goodbye, sir!" Felger shouted while smiling and sweating all in one as Jack passed by him.

Jack went in search of a place where Walter wasn't. An arduous task no matter how one looked at it.

---

Thanks for reading, and leave a review if you feel like it.