AN: This is a story idea I've been toying with in years, one that lately wouldn't leave me alone. It's about a fusion between Stagate, Halo and nBSG, where three separate branches of humanity have to unite or fall alone in the face of a hostile galaxy.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Stargate, Halo, or Battlestar Galactica movies, books, or games. They belong to their respective creators and/or copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial purpose. It is not for sale or rent!
In fire forged
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Prologue: Hard Contact – Earth
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Part 1
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Long ago, in a time before myth and legend, existed an alliance of Four Great Races. It began with the Nox, immortal, kindest, and fairest of all. Next came the Furlings, noble and honorable warriors all. Ancient Humanity came next, proud, relentless, dauntless, yet kind to their friends. And finally, the Asgard, a curious species of peerless scientists and explorers from another galaxy. They joined together for the betterment of all, kindling the light of knowledge and guaranteeing safety for everyone they encountered.
They brought a Golden Age the likes of which we may not ever see anew.
Then Darkness rose in the terrible abyss between galaxies. It came to devour us all. The Alliance fought with all they had. Yet the Darkness met them blow for blow, bringing endless suffering to all it touched, determined to dominate and devour all life.
The Furlings fell first, their domains laid to waste by the eternal war. The Nox fell next, twisted, and broken until their last remnants retreated to their home-world and concealed it behind a veil of shadows.
Yet, some still resisted. One last alliance between Ancient Humanity and the Asgard met the twisted hordes of the Darkness, sacrificing everything they were, their principles, and very souls to vanquish the enemy. They met at the Shrieking Abyss even as Darkness consumed the Human realm.
It was there, that the Last Alliance cast down the Gravemind and pushed back the Darkness into the abyss between galaxies.
The Asgard retreated to their far away from home, twisted and broken, pale shadows of what they once were.
Ancient Humanity walked a darker path. In a desperate gambit to recover and rebuild all they lost, the Ancient Humans invaded those the Great Alliance swore to protect. Yet the younger species of the galaxy has had a new protector. The Juvenile Forerunners rose during the eternal war and established their empire. They resisted the rampages of Ancient Humanity, forcing it to wage another war.
In an age beyond myth and legend, the last of the Great Alliance fell, betrayed by their own arrogance and hubris. The young Forerunners took the Mantle of Responsibility, rising as the sole remaining guardians of the galaxy. For their crimes, the Forerunners judged Ancient Humanity to be devolved and contained on their ravaged homeworld after eradicating any trace of advanced civilization there.
It was during the Second Age of Responsibility, when the Forerunners were at their height, that the Darkness returned, stronger than ever. A new Gravemind led it, determined to devour all.
For all their technological prowess and skill at war, the Forerunners lacked the weapons that once vanquished the Darkness. Even so, they fought, upholding the Mantle they took from the Great Alliance. Yet, slowly and implacably, the Darkness ground them down, even though the Forerunners ignited and laid to waste whole realms.
The Darkness was winning. It was relentless, unstoppable. It brought the Forerunners low, forcing them to fall upon a similar path to their old enemies, the Ancient Humanity.
In an act of desperation, they constructed Seven Great Rings, forging their very spirits and determination within those constructs.
In an age beyond myth and legend, the Forerunners sacrificed all they were or might be to uphold the Mantle. The rings ignited, their merciless light bathing the whole galaxy in death.
The age of the Forerunners was over. The Darkness was vanquished a second time, at an even more terrible price.
Yet, even in death, the Forerunners upheld the Mantle of Responsibility. Their constructs breathed life back into the galaxy, giving a second chance to countless species, one of them, their ancient enemy, Humanity.
incomplete translation of
Second Verse, Book of Remembrance,
Declared High Heresy by the Prophets
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5 March 1997 ES /Earth Standard/
Cheyenne Mountain
United States
It was a rather nice early spring day in Colorado, which meant only a few feet of snow and a pleasant if brisk weather. Well, that was the case for anyone raised up north like Commander James Fontaine of the Canadian Military. The middle-aged career officer was currently the highest-ranked Canadian soldier on duty in NORAD. His current job was particularly boring, if very good as far as his prospects of promotion were concerned. That said, mindbogglingly boring was very good when you were part of the strategic defense watch covering the North American continent. Even if the odds of the big one ever happening were now lower than ever thanks to the collapse of the Soviet Union, boredom in NORAD was nice and safe.
Then again, instead of an all-out nuclear war, now people worried about the prospect of a warhead or two finding its way to the black market. That was still very much a clear and present danger. By all accounts, a shock-therapy like transition to capitalism wasn't working for the former Soviets. That might have even been a good thing, depending on how cold-blooded a bastard someone was, if not for the potential of someone desperate selling a warhead or two and thus ruining everyone's day.
Commander Fontaine slowly moved his head left and right, which relaxed his stiff neck a bit, though the sharp crack he heard didn't bode well. He was already looking for the end of his night shift and a bit of PT to get the blood flowing, when the floor shook, immediately followed by the piercing shriek of alarms.
"Get that shutdown and give me a status report!" Fontaine surged to his feet, suddenly missing the boredom.
From the corner of his eye, the Captain could see General Roberts, the current CO of the installation came at a run from his office, which overlooked the cavernous heart of NORAD.
"There's nothing on the radars, sir!" One of the specialists manning the dozens of stations spread through the command center reported.
"Sky-watch is clear. We're detecting no launches. All scopes are clear."
"Is this an earthquake?" A different voice wondered.
Another tremor came from below, and the vibrations carried through Fontaine's feet.
"XO, report!" General Roberts snapped.
"The sky is clear as far as we can determine." The Commander reported.
"Sir, I just called the security post on the entrance. There's no trouble there. They did feel a slight tremor thought." The Sergeant in charge of the area's security called from near the entrance.
James glanced that way and saw the graying NCO speaking through a hard-line. "I'm calling the security center…"
"I need verification that we aren't compromised." Fontaine barked at one of the specialists, then turned to look at the General.
Roberts was pale, and his face had an expression of stunned disbelief. He had held a phone handle, and his knuckles were white from how tightly he gripped it.
"Code Pierced Shield. I say again, Pierced Shield!" The General shouted at the top of his lungs.
The constant buzzing of the specialists working in the command center ceased, as everyone's heads snapped back to look at Roberts.
"You heard me! Cut all data links! Purge all secure data and get the hell out to the surface, yesterday!" The General snapped. If it was all possible, he was even paler than before. At that moment, the alarm's screaming ceased, only the red blinking lights remained to indicate an emergency.
For a brief moment, there was only a tense silence. It didn't last. Quiet, distant, and very distinct sounds came from the hard-line's handle held by the General. It was automatic gunfire, explosions, and screams.
"GO!" Roberts snapped. "Commander, get to the Armory and gather all the security personnel you can. I don't have time to brief you. We've got a breach on the lower levels that must be contained at all costs. You have to keep NORAD properly secured until we can purge data and evacuate or adequate reinforcements arrive. Do you read me, Commander?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" Fontaine snapped a hasty salute and turned in place jogging towards the exit. "Sergeant, you heard the General, you're with me. Do you have any idea what we're dealing with? You've been stationed here for two years now!" He demanded while they ran towards the armory.
"I'm not at liberty to say, sir…" the NCO grimaced.
"We need to know what we're walking into, Sergeant!" Fontaine snapped.
"I know, damn it!" The Sergeant spat.
Another tremor rippled through the concrete floor. A few tense moments, a distant thunderclap followed.
"Fuck it…" The NCO cursed and shook his head.
"Sergeant, talk to me!"
The old bastard just shook his head and kept running.
By the time they got to the armory, Fontaine had gathered almost three squads worth of security types. They passed many people running towards the elevators heading for the surface, while others were busy doing their best to burn documents or delete data.
This was a contingency Fontaine was aware of. It was one of the most unlikely ones – a hostile force being on the verge of overrunning NORAD. For something like that to happen, someone first had to neutralize large chunks of the US Military and if something as crazy as that happened, NORAD would be one of the first places to be aware of it. Certainly not one of the first places attacked. Yet, the base was under attack, there was no doubt about it. The tremors and sounds of explosions were becoming more frequent and louder.
They were coming from below, yet the command level itself was deep within the mountain already. It made no sense, even if the General and at least Sergeant Frederick apparently
knew something. What the fuck did the Americans do this time?!
The makeshift reaction force found the only couple of security types in the armory busy grabbing weapons and flack vests. Francs decided to add them to his small force and kept demanding answers.
"This is General Roberts. NORAD is currently under attack. Everyone above level fifteen is to evacuate immediately. Level one to fourteen are currently on lock-down. All available security forces converge on level fifteen. You're to hold the elevators and stairways there at all costs." The General's voice came out harried and almost as incredulous as James felt.
"You heard the General, we're going to level fifteen. Now, someone tells me what the fuck are we going to walk into before I'm tempted to shoot somebody?" Fontaine demanded, with his patience nearly at its snapping point.
"Enemy forces of unknown composition, presumably with advanced weapons and armor." Sergeant Francs finally muttered something vaguely of use.
"Like what, Stormtroopers?" One of the younger soldiers quipped.
"I honestly don't know, sir! That thing is supposed to be useless now!" Franks mumbled.
"What thing?"
"I can't tell you, sir, it's beyond either of our pay-grades!" The NCO snapped back in frustration. "Sorry, sir!"
"We're going in blind then!"
"Assume heavy weapons. Don't bunch up. That's all I can think of." Francs shrugged. He at least had the good grace to look apologetic, not that it mattered much.
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Part 2
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5 March 1997 ES /Earth Standard/
Cheyenne Mountain
United States
Commander Fontaine and his rag-tag unit didn't get to level Fifteen. By the time they reached the elevators, it had been breached and sealed off along with level sixteen, and all the poor bastards cut off by the lock-down. At level seventeen, they encountered a group of shell-shocked survivors dragging several heavy wounded casualties to the elevators.
"Lieutenant report!" Fontaine ordered the highest-ranked person he could see among the survivors.
"We could barely slow them down…" The young man mumbled. He was obviously in shock. His face was deadly pale, which was easy to notice even though the sooth covering him. He didn't appear to be wounded even if his uniform was liberally drenched in blood.
As if to underline how fucked up the situation was, an explosion near underneath them shook the floor and sent everyone's ears ringing.
"I need something more, Lieutenant!" Fontaine forced himself to speak as calmly as he could instead of shaking the shocked soldier.
"It's some sci-fi shit down there, sir!" A Sergeant in his early thirties added. "I don't know who or what those bastards are. They have honest to God energy weapons and heavy armor down there. A couple of them have energy shields, I shit you not sir! We need heavy weapons to deal with this shit!"
Mutters of disbelief came from the security guards pilled behind Fontaine.
"That's the shit you aren't at 'liberty' to discuss, Sergeant Franks?! What the fuck are we dealing with?!" Fontaine crisply turned around and glared at the man currently at the top of his shit-list.
"The shields are new, the ray-guns sound legit." Francs.
"What? Did we create terminators or something?" One of the guards exclaimed in disbelief.
"Those aren't ours." Fontaine shook his head vigorously. "Shit… I don't know all the details. There was something the Brits dug up in Egypt then somehow ended in our hands during WWII I think. It was a gateway to another world or some such shit. There was some kind of mission there last year, it went to shit." When the dam broke, Franks spoke rapidly for all he was worth, while everyone stared at him in disbelief. The explosions below them, probably breaching charges, did help to emphasize that he might not be full of shit. Not entirely, anyway. "I know the team we sent through had to nuke where they ended up and most didn't make it back. The gate didn't work afterward and well…" He shrugged helplessly.
"It apparently works now." Fontane spat. Fucking yanks.
Another explosion shook them, this time right below them.
"We're going to hold the stairways. I want a squad securing the elevators just in case. They're possibly our way out. The rest of you, with me. Lieutenant, take two men and drag the wounded to the surface and remind everyone up there that we need reinforcements with heavy weapons down here yesterday!" Franks ordered.
A couple of minutes after they set up a makeshift position at the stairways, a bright yellow pulse of energy tore through the armored door leading to the stair. It blew up a large chunk of the opposite wall, filling up the stairway with smoke and concrete dust. Moments later, a large armored figure marched through, carrying what appeared to be a bloody cannon attached to his waist by a harness. It looked up with glowing red eyes and Fontaine stared in disbelief at the metal head of a cobra. The thing turned around, bringing its cannon to bear on them faster than anything that size should move.
"Shoot it down!" Fontaine shouted and opened fire along with everyone who could fit in the tight space. 5.56 mm NATO bullets flew at the monster, only to halt a couple of feet in front of its face when they encountered a previously invisible golden barrier.
The last thing Fontaine saw was a streak of gold, then his world ended in fire and pain.
=IFF=
5 March 1997 ES /Earth Standard/
Colonel O'Neill's residence
United States
It was a nice cool morning, the snow outside was light and melting, and if the girl on the weather channel knew what she was talking about last night, then in a few days the weather might just be warm enough outside for some relaxing fishing. That's why, Jack had his fishing supplies spread all around the living room, making sure that everything was in top shape and ready. He took a sip from a steaming cup of coffee and briefly wondered how Scaara and the few other survivors from Abydoss acclimatized to living in the modern world. He hadn't seen any of them in a couple of months. Perhaps a call to Daniel was so he could squeeze a debriefing from his unlikely friend?
Jack held that thought when his ears perked up. For a few seconds, he wasn't sure what got him on edge, then he could barely hear a familiar thumping sound. It was a helicopter. It was approaching and he was pretty sure it was a Black Hawk – he had ridden on more than his share of those choppers and they didn't sound exactly like the few police and SAR birds that could be occasionally heard over Colorado in the winter.
O'Neill dismissed it as someone in the Air Force Academy having fun, or if they were particularly unlucky, there was brass coming for inspection. He dismissed the helicopter and returned his attention to carefully inspecting the reel of his fishing rod. Jack used the same care he devoted to making sure the mechanics didn't fuck up by the numbers and his plane wouldn't fall from the sky back in the good old days when he still got to fly, he was happily married and his son was still alive.
And that was a bad train of thoughts, one he did his best to avoid for obvious reasons. Jack frowned and picked up his coffee mug. The chopper was quite close now and it was slowing down. That was certainly out of the ordinary. He took a sip of coffee, hot and black, actually drinkable too, just the way he liked it, and went to the nearby window peering outside. Sure enough, there was a Black Hawk he could see approaching and coming down towards his back yard.
"This doesn't bode well…" Jack muttered to himself. He grabbed a jacket and headed towards the back door. He opened it just in time to see the chopper hover near his pond. The side doors slid open and a fully kitted fire-team jumped out, with their leader jogging his way. "Not good at all."
"Where's the fire, Master Sergeant?" O'Neill asked, carefully examining the soldiers through narrowed eyes.
"NORAD, sir. We're ordered to pick you up and bring you to the base. Your expertise is needed."
"Can I have a moment for a change of clothes and to lock up?" O'Neill inquired. He could see the troopers were quite tense, not to mention that none of them was regular infantry.
Special Forces all, a mixed batch if the patches they wore were anything to go by.
"We need to go right now, sir." The Sergeant shook his head in the negative.
Jack nodded, drained his coffee in one go, and put the cup down on the window's frame before closing the door behind him. The Sergeant turned around and jogged back to the chopper with O'Neill right on his heels. As soon as he got inside, the rest of the fire-team pilled up and they lifted out while he was strapping in.
One of the troopers offered him a headset, which he gratefully took.
"What are we dealing with?"
"All I know is NORAD went off the grid, we're ordered to collect you and head that way ASAP, sir." The Sergeant explained.
O'Neill swore. He knew what was deep below NORAD in the Cheyenne Mountains, even if he never figured out why the hell the brass put the gate below that particular facility. The only logical conclusion was that someone or something came through. Whatever it was, it was hostile, obviously. Needless to say, there was just one little problem with that theory – he nuked the other gate, along with Ra, his fucking super-soldiers, and thousands of poor bastards who found themselves at the wrong time and place. It didn't help that if it wasn't for the locals, Earth might be gone now. It was a cluster-fuck that nearly got him to bite his pistol when the dust settled. If it wasn't for Daniel and Kowalski, Jack didn't know what he might have done...