Chapter 137: Holiday Season Part 1

Gate Zone, Euronda, December 22nd, 1999 (Earth Time)

"So, you have sold us out."

Adora wanted to sigh and roll her eyes at Alar's words, but that would have been… not appropriate for the occasion. Which didn't stop Catra from doing exactly that, of course, but Adora was She-Ra, and she had to maintain her dignity. This was, after all, an official meeting. And she had to set a good example for the Alliance soldiers guarding the gate room and the rest of the defence complex. Even though, or perhaps especially, since most of them belonged to Jack's command.

So she slowly nodded instead of telling Alar that they didn't owe him anything in the first place. "Yes. We've finished a treaty with the Eurondan Alliance. In exchange for various concessions from the Alliance against the Goa'uld, represented by us, and the complete disarmament of the Eurondan Nation, they have agreed to end the war with the Eurondan Nation without forcing you off-world. They have also agreed that the death penalty will not be available in the trials of suspected war criminals. Trials which will be conducted by a mixed court with judges from the Eurondan Alliance and the Alliance against the Goa'uld."

Alar looked relieved for a moment - had he expected them to sacrifice his life to placate the Eurondan Alliance? But he quickly scowled and sounded even more defiant. "We fought a war. You kill your enemies in war. If what we did was wrong, then so was what the Breeders did."

Adora narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't murder civilians - not even in a war! That's a law that applies to everyone." She walked up to him and leaned forward, looming over him. "You attempted a genocide!"

Alar cringed, taking a half-step back, but then straightened. "We struck at our enemies! If we hadn't struck first, they would have attacked us sooner or later under a pretext to erase us and our culture!"

"Come on, save this for the judges," Jack said. "They might buy it."

Alar glared at him. "As if the judgement wasn't decided already!"

"You'll get a fair trial," Daniel told him. "We've had such trials before, trust us. We'll ensure that you receive a skilled defender and that everything follows procedure."

"Your laws and procedure!" Alar shook his head. "Why bother with this farce? We all know how this will play out."

"That's how we do things," Jack said with bared teeth. "Even genocidal Space Nazis get their day in court."

Daniel cleared his throat. "Well, it's not as cut and dried as you claim. If you weren't in a position of authority - if you had no part in the decision to launch a genocidal attack against the Eurondan Alliance - then you will not be held responsible for that. There are many precedents in our history. We don't punish people for merely waging war."

"So, you come and crush us, hand our enemies the victory in our war, and then expect us to be grateful to you for not letting the Breeders murder or exile every one of us?" Alar scoffed, but he sounded closer to crying. "What did we do to you to deserve this?"

"Well, for starters, you supplied our enemies with weapons to attack us," Jack said with a shrug. "We take a dim view of such things. And then we found out that you tried to murder everyone on your world who disagreed with your customs. That's kind of a red flag for us. That you also ruined your planet is kind of just gravy."

Adora nodded. The Eurondan Alliance was annoying with their wheedling and demanding more concessions - though Adora and her friends had stayed mostly firm and wouldn't hand over weapon technology, magitech, or advanced aerospace technology - but they hadn't started this war. Or tried to kill her friends. "We'll take you and the others on the list in custody now."

"But… that will leave our people leaderless!"

"I'm sure someone else will step up and take over," Jack said. "They've probably been preparing for that ever since they heard the news from us. It's kind of what Nazis do."

Alar shook his head but didn't say anything else. Not even when two soldiers stepped up to him and cuffed him before leading him to the Stargate. He and the others would be held in a prison on Earth, to keep them safe from revenge.

Jack watched him go and sighed. "We really should install a democracy here. If we let them continue with their system, they won't change."

"We're not here to force your system on them," Glimmer disagreed. "Or ours," she added. "We're just here to stop them from destroying each other and their world."

"Then this won't be peace but just an armistice for twenty years," Jack retorted.

"We'll see." Adora knew people could change. And the Eurondans had to change, anyway, to adapt to the end of the war and the restoration of their world. "At least they won't have to fight a war any more. Both the Eurondan Nation and the Eurondan Alliance can now focus on rebuilding their countries in peace."

"Lan didn't act like it," Glimmer pointed out. "He kept trying to get more weapon technology from us. What did he think, that we would give him more weapons so he could launch an attack on the Eurondan Nation as soon as we turn our back to them?"

Daniel cleared his throat again. "I don't think it's that - or just that, I suppose. The Eurondan Alliance was fighting for their lives for decades, knowing that if they lost, it would be the end for their entire people, culture and history. That kind of conflict would have shaped their Society. It's quite understandable that they will want to arm up until they feel they can fend off any attacker."

"We will protect them. We told them so," Adora said.

"But they don't trust us. Which is also understandable - from their point of view, we protected their enemies," Daniel said. "It will take time for them to come to terms with the situation."

"Whatever!" Glimmer scoffed. "Let's leave now. We've ended the war and restored most of their world. That's enough."

It wasn't, not really. There was so much still wrong in this world. But they had far more worlds to save than this one, worlds far worse off than this one, too.

And they hadn't finished restoring the world's biosphere yet. But that was not something Adora could help with.

"Yes, let's go."

Stargate Command, CFB Goose Bay, Newfoundland, Canada, December 23rd, 1999

Samantha Carter watched as yet another transport carrying a standard freight container drove up the ramp of the Stargate. The transport used an electric drive - the ventilation of the base could have handled the exhausts from internal combustion engines, but it would have been an additional strain on the system, and the engines could just be hooked up to the base's reactors to be recharged, which was both easier and safer than refuelling outside or transporting more fuel into the base. Less fuel meant a lessened fire risk - something she could appreciate after her visit to Euronda.

Even with the additional security added after the attack by the Russians and Chinese, the whole process went smoothly - as one transport drove through the gate and vanished, the next one lined up behind it. Optimising the gate schedule for efficiency and costs, taking into account the space available for parking and storage and leaving enough windows for other gate missions - both planned and unplanned, was a challenge, but the best logisticians of the planet were working on it and had it down to science.

Sam had checked. Just in case. There wouldn't be another sabotage attempt on her watch. And this was an Alliance mission, anyway.

"Carter! There you are!"

She turned around and straightened. The General had arrived! "Sir. I thought you were expected in Washington." She had checked his schedule, as usual. She wasn't his Second-in-Command any more, but old habits died slowly.

"Ah, the meeting had to be cancelled so the general responsible could do his Christmas shopping." He grinned, and Sam couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

So she nodded. "I see."

"So, I decided to check up on our latest deployments," he went on. "Make sure everything's alright on our favourite new planet."

She frowned at that. With the holidays coming up, and after he had been absent for so long from his command to deal with the Eurondans, the paperwork must have been piling up on his desk.

He snorted. "I'm up to date on paperwork, Major."

She managed not to blush; he knew her too well after years of working together so closely. "Of course, sir."

"I've got actual aides for that, you know? Perks of being a general."

"Yes, sir."

"Anyway, I'm just going to hitch a ride on the next transport for a surprise inspection." He hesitated a moment. "Want to tag along and check up on the restoration stuff?"

She was tempted. Only to check that the team headed by Perfuma didn't need any technical assistance, of course. They were supposed to call either Entrapta, Sam or Bow if they had trouble with the bots helping them deploy the next wave of plants. The animals were still being cloned in Alpha, but the first batch would be ready before the new year.

But she had her own tasks to deal with - and she didn't have an aide to handle her paperwork. So, she sighed softly and shook her head. "I'll have to pass, sir."

"Alright. See you in an hour or so?"

By then, she would still be here, handling the bits of advanced technology they were shipping to the Eurondan Alliance. "Yes, sir."

He smiled, waved, and then stepped forward as the next transport drove up to the ramp. As soon as the transport stopped for the go-ahead from the traffic controller, the General opened the door and slid inside with smooth grace befitting a man twenty years younger.

She suppressed a sigh and turned back to her scanner. The artificial wombs were not yet ready - construction facilities had still to be set up, and since several countries were very interested in hosting those, and even more in the products, things had been delayed a bit. But the advanced bioreactors they had promised the Erondans to increase their food production were ready; Priest had delivered a few spare units from Third Fleet. He had also sent a team of Clones to install them and instruct the Eurondans in their use - and to spread the word of She-Ra or something on the sly. Not that Sam really cared. A number of Eurondans converting might make handling the whole planet easier, especially if people from both sides converted. On the other hand, that might create the first schism in the Church of She-Ra…

But that was a problem for Priest and Adora. And probably Daniel. Sam had to ensure that the safety features on the bioreactors were intact. No one wanted the Eurondans to use the reactors to manufacture bioweapons. Not after seeing first-hand what Alar's people had done to their world.

But so far, all the systems checked out. She signed the forms for this batch and then watched as they were packed into containers. As they were loaded on the next transport, she noticed General Hammond walking toward her.

"General."

"Major." He smiled. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"I guess I missed General O'Neill?"

Sam nodded. "He just went through the gate, sir."

"Ah. Well, I can ask you, I think."

She wasn't in the General's chain of command any more, not officially. But she probably could answer what question General Hammond had anyway. "Yes, sir?"

"Will SG-1 - well, the former SG-1 - attend Stargate Command's New Year's Party?"

Ah. Sam blinked. Right. The holiday season meant parties. Christmas and New Year's parties. With the Eurondan Affair, she hadn't even thought about that. And neither had her friends, she suspected. "I don't know yet," she said. A safe answer.

"Well, you're certainly invited." General Hammond beamed at her. "We all owe you for saving our bacon once again."

"Thank you, sir."

Sam was already trying to remember which parties she could miss and which she couldn't. Between the General and her Etherian friends, she probably wouldn't be able to skip as many as she would prefer. But she knew she didn't want to miss Stargate Command's New Year's Party. That was a tradition, after all. Even if she had been dragged to most of them in the past.

Bright Moon, Etheria, December 24th, 1999

"It almost looks like we're on Earth," Catra commented as she walked at Adora's side towards the palace gates.

Adora looked around, frowning a little in that cute way of hers, then shook her head. "On Earth, the whole street would be decked out in Christmas decorations. Not just a few shops."

It was more than a few shops, actually - about every third shop was sporting tinsel and green and red ribbons or plants. And all of those shops had displays like on Earth. "Close enough," she said.

Adora nodded. "It looks like we missed a big smuggling ring."

"Those aren't wares from Earth," Catra corrected her lover. "Those are 'Earth-style goods'. Copies made here." One of the shops even advertised as that. Although she had no doubt that the shop would sell actual contraband under the table if the owner had access to a smuggler. Not to them, of course - the clerks would know that Adora would report them. But if Catra were alone… Hm.

"Well, it's only natural," Adora said. "Earth media are very popular, and people watching the shows and movies will see a lot of Earth products. Of course, they'll be curious about them. Daniel said similar things happen on Earth all the time."

Catra knew that Etherian goods would fetch a premium on Earth - and did whenever someone managed to smuggle something through the Stargate, though that would be even rarer after they had improved security. But she'd never seen - or heard of - a similar 'Etherian-style goods' fad. "What does Glimmer think about this?" she asked as they passed a bakery with 'original French croissants' that looked pretty similar to the ones she had eaten in Paris.

Adora winced a little. "Ah, she said she wanted to look into encouraging local businesses."

"So, she's not happy with everyone being crazy for Earth stuff." Catra snorted. She could understand that - if she were a princess, she would be a bit worried about that as well.

"It's not that," Adora said. "It's the whole difference between our population and Earth's. That's why the trade deals are stalled as well."

"Well, duh." Catra scoffed. "If we opened trade, the Stargate would be blocked for years with all the stuff Earth would ship to us." Most of it junk or obsolete stuff, but it would still sell.

"Yes. But they are pushing - and complaining about, well, that." Adora pointed at a shop advertising Earth media and assorted merchandise. "They still want us to 'respect copyright'."

"Good luck with that." Catra shook her head. Etheria didn't work like that.

"Some of the princesses were debating whether or not they should agree," Adora said. "But mostly because the don't like Earth media being so popular and think by cracking down on smuggling, it would become more expensive and less common."

Catra snorted. That wasn't how things worked. You couldn't stop smuggling, not even the Horde had managed, and media wasn't bottlenecked by the Stargate's capacity. You could transport a whole library on a single memory crystal.

"Mermista didn't think it would work either," Adora said.

"She would know." Both from Sea Hawk and her experience with smuggling on the sea. "Well, it's not our problem," Catra said. She narrowed her eyes at Adora to remind her lover of that.

"I know!" Adora blushed a little. "Though cultural exchange is."

Catra rolled her eyes. That again! The Asgard's visit had been bad enough, and Earth's would be worse - a lot of Etherians were crazy for Earth culture, especially their artists. "You'll have to assign a company or more for crowd control once the stars arrive," she said.

"That's up to the ruling princesses," Adora said. "Not all of them were, ah, enthusiastic."

"I bet they're just jealous they are less popular than Earth artists." Catra grinned.

Adora cleared her throat and didn't comment.

Catra's grin widened. "Well, you don't have that problem. You're the most popular princess. Here and on Earth."

That earned her a frown. "I don't care. I just… oh, no!"

Catra quickly followed her lover's gaze. "Oh!" She chuckled. "Priest must have taken notes."

In front of another shop, three Clones stood in a booth with a life-sized cardboard cutout of She-Ra, sword raised and shining with blinding light. Next to it, they had placed a box for donations and stacks of flyers, books and crystals. "It's really like Christmas on Earth. Be glad they didn't dress you up as Santa," she said.

Adora muttered a curse under her breath.

"Cheer up - it means Etheria has at least one celebrity who's popular in the rest of the Alliance," Catra told her with a snicker.

"I'd rather see Sea Hawk become a star on Earth with his shanties," Adora snapped.

Catra laughed as they took a detour so they wouldn't pass in front of the stall. Then she frowned as she had another thought. "If they're doing that on Earth, that could cause trouble." Earth took their weird religions seriously, and it was holiday season for the Alliance.

Adora sighed.

Pentagon, Washington D.C., United States of America, Earth, December 24th, 1999

"That's very interesting, General. I'll be sure to keep that in mind when we're training in Germany."

As an example of how not to conduct a landing operation on another planet, Jack O'Neill added to himself when he turned away to refill his glass. That was an insane proposal, and from a fellow Air Force officer to boot! Really, it sounded as if the man had never considered that a planetary invasion was focused on securing the orbitals. You couldn't establish air superiority if the enemy could bomb you from space no matter how daringly you dropped on the planet. And if you had control of the orbitals, you did the same to the enemy.

With people like that working at the Pentagon, it was no wonder that the Navy pukes had won the battle for the US space forces!

Besides, Jack ran Alliance Special Forces Command, not the Space Marines. He wasn't in charge of invading planets, he was in charge of taking out key objectives for invasions, running ops behind enemy lines, search and rescue and all the fun stuff SG-1 had gotten up to in their days.

His glass refilled with excellent whisky - the Pentagon didn't skimp on food and drinks for their general staff mixers - he made his way to the corner of the room closest to the door. He had been here for almost an hour; it was time to slip out as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Before he drank too much and started to hurt some of the idiots here.

Like Admiral Kearsy. Jack hadn't forgotten the debriefing of the Saqqara mission. The man was talking to the Secretary of Defense near the other end of the bar. Jack considered cutting in if only to see if he had to heed off another blatant powerplay by the Navy to cripple the funding for the rest of the branches so they could design another death trap to show off the limeys.

He decided against it. If the Navy tried anything, it would go through Alliance Command, and Adora would inform him. And they could get Carter to dissect the latest issues with the Navy's ship design.

At least the British ships were coming along according to schedule. If the Navy pukes kept messing up their homebrewed all-in-one-designs, the Marines might be ferried to the first landing zones on British transports escorted by British corvettes.

Which wouldn't be all that bad, actually, in Jack's opinion.

"General O'Neill!"

Damn! Jack forced himself to smile. "General Naird."

"I was wondering if you knew if Major Carter was going to attend this mixer."

Jack narrowed his eyes. Why did Naird want to speak to Carter? At a mixer? The man was married! "Unfortunately, she is busy with critical work for the war." Also known as doing science with Entrapta instead of suffering here with him.

"Oh." The man's face fell. "I was hoping to discuss a few things I discovered. As you certainly know, I was assigned to command our Space Signals Corps, and since that relies heavily on the spy bot network Major Carter and Princess Entrapta have developed…" He trailed off with a hopeful smile.

Jack was tempted to mention that 'Space Signals Corps' basically was just handling the interface with said network. But everyone knew that, even Naird. And it was Christmas Eve. So he shrugged. "I can't help you there - I just push the button on the radio. And if it doesn't work, I call Carter."

"Err, yes, that's basically the problem. It works, but we - that is, my command - don't have the capability to fix anything if it doesn't work. My aide and my technical advisor have, therefore, formulated a plan for a backup system in case the main network is damaged."

Ah. Tech talk. "Oh, just mail her your proposal. She will get back to you."

"We did. Two weeks ago." Naird pouted. "But we haven't heard back."

Really? "Well, I can't speak for Major Carter, but between the attack by Russia and China and then the mess with the Space Nazis, I think she might have been a bit too busy to give your proposal the attention it deserves."

"Ah. Maybe I should send a reminder." Naird nodded.

"Yes." That wouldn't endear him to Carter, but that wasn't Jack's problem. On the other hand… "Or I could do it. Communications are a critical part of modern warfare, after all, and it's always good to have backup systems. In fact, I think I'll go call her right now. Merry Christmas!"

"Ah…" Naird opened his mouth, but Jack was already finishing his drink on the way out.

An excuse to leave the mixer early and to call Carter? That was almost a Christmas present in his book.

But just as he reached the door, it was opened by a concerned-looking captain - Air Force, Jack noted - whose eyes widened when she saw him. "General O'Neill! Captain Brown. We've got a situation."

Damn. Well, he hadn't heard any sirens, so it couldn't be too bad.

"There was an altercation involving several Clones and Alliance soldiers."

Scratch that thought.

"So, fill me in?" Jack O'Neill asked a minute later as they walked through the hallway - toward the exit leading to the landing pads, he noted.

"At the Christmas Party at the Washington Navy Yard, a religious dispute occurred between a group of Clones and Navy personnel. The dispute escalated to violence," Brown replied. "All involved are now either in lockup or in the hospital."

A brawl between Clones and Navy pukes? So, none of his people were involved? "And I was the only general available, I guess?" he half-joked.

"The Supreme Commander is not on Earth nor on duty. The leader of Third Fleet was already informed, and Admiral Brown-Emerson requested your presence since you are on location."

"Ah." That explained why Jack was left holding the bag. Not because he was already in Washington, of course - Priest could probably arrive faster at the Naval Yard from orbit than Jack could make it through Washington D.C.'s traffic. But Jack was a close friend of Adora and so the wily Brit probably figured he could handle Priest. Well, he wasn't entirely wrong. Jack certainly could think of worse officers being involved in this.

He narrowed his eyes at the thought. "Was Admiral Kearsy informed?" He was the ranking US Navy officer on the council. And he was in Washington as well.

"I don't know. I received a direct call from Admiral Brown-Emerson and immediately went to fetch you, sir. Should I call him?"

"Let him enjoy the party," Jack said as they left the building. "Ever flown in a shuttle?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ever flown in a stealth shuttle?"

"No, sir."

"It's like a shuttle, but better." He grinned again. "Although we won't be using the stealth generator this time."

"Yes, sir."

Jack refrained from making a comment on being too formal. The captain wasn't one of his people. And when working in the Pentagon as a junior officer, especially as a young woman, it was better to be as formal as possible when interacting with your superior.

"Strap in," he told her as they boarded the shuttle, followed by the bot guarding it - the encrypted locks on the shuttle had been built by Carter and Entrapta, but you couldn't be too careful with your personal stealth shuttle around other generals. Doubly so in Washington.

He quickly ran through the pre-flight checks. "So, how bad are the injuries? And how much alcohol was involved?"

"None of the injuries were reported as life-threatening, sir," Brown replied. "No alcohol was served at the party."

Jack snorted. "Blood checks on all."

"Yes, sir." She made a note on her pad while Jack informed air traffic control of his flight

As soon as he got the clearance, he took off. Five minutes later - mostly because he had to avoid a police chopper - they touched down at the Naval Yard. Next to another shuttle with familiar markings. Third Fleet.

Jack was pretty sure he knew who had arrived with that shuttle.

He was proven right five minutes later when they reached the area where the uninjured participants of the brawl were held in detention. "Hello, Priest. Lieutenant." He nodded at the Navy officer next to Priest.

"General O'Neill!" The Clone smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, and may Her Divine Highness's grace bless you as well. And to you," he added with a nod at Brown.

Ah. Jack was starting to get an inkling of the reasons for the brawl. "Thanks, I guess," he replied.

"Sir." The Lieutenant looked as tense as you'd expect from anyone in his position - Priest commanded a fleet with enough firepower to turn Earth into a wasteland, after all.

"So, I heard a couple of people got into a brawl at a party," Jack said. "I guess someone broke out the booze early."

"We're still investigating," the Lieutenant said. "NCIS was informed. A special agent is on the way."

"NCIS? Really? Do you do that every time there's a drunken brawl?" Jack raised his eyebrows. Someone was escalating. Sure, technically, this could be worth a criminal investigation, but generally, people didn't want to escalate from a disciplinary matter to a criminal one. Especially if it involved foreign service personnel. It looked like someone was playing games here. Wait - he had his own special agent on call. Sort of. "I guess we'll cooperate on this, then."

"Sir?" The Lieutenant looked confused for a moment.

"In investigating this," Jack said. "I'll call my team."

"Special Agents Wilkinson and Paris?" Priest smiled.

The Clone was well-informed. Jack reminded himself not to underestimate him. Religious fanatics could be quite subtle and sly. "Yes. I guess this is straight down their alley. They can talk shop with their colleagues from NCIS."

"Third Fleet will, of course, lend any assistance you need," Priest said.

At least he didn't offer to add his own people to the team. Good. If Jack could keep this from escalating further, he should be able to settle things without too much trouble.

"So, what exactly happened?" Jack asked. "Getting into a brawl on Christmas Eve isn't exactly in the spirit of the holiday, is it?"

"We're still investigating, sir," the Lieutenant replied stiffly. Stalling?

Jack cocked his head. "Exactly. And what do you have so far?"

"We're waiting for NCIS, sir."

Someone really wanted to escalate this. But who? "Let me call my investigative team, then," Jack said. And inform them that they were his investigative team, of course.

He'd get to the bottom of this. And if anyone was playing games involving Third Fleet, he'd take them down. Some things were off-limits. Especially during a war.

Washington Naval Yard, United States of America, Earth, December 24th, 1999

"No, that's alright. Merry Christmas, Agent Paris!"

"Merry Christmas, General."

Jack O'Neill sighed as he switched off his comm. Apparently, Wilkinson and Paris both had plans for Christmas Eve. He could have pushed - not quite ordered; they were still ironing out how exactly the two would officially fit into his command; the FBI was proving a bit obstructive - but he hadn't. Getting his own special agents would have been a nice way to show up the NCIS special agent, but Jack didn't really think he'd need them to settle a drunken brawl. He'd let the Navy pukes ruin their own holidays instead.

Besides, he might not have two special agents on the way, but he was in charge of Alliance Special Forces Command. That gave him a lot of clout. Hell, if the Navy felt uppity, he could just mention, casually, that the shuttles assigned to his unit had more firepower than the entire Navy, at least until they managed to convert their squadrons to space fighters. Of course, Priest had an actual fleet in orbit…

"So, when will you let me talk to my men? I was under the impression that anyone detained in your country had the right to arrange legal representation and contact their embassy if they were a foreigner," Priest asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have the authority to decide that. That is under the purview of the NCIS special agent assigned to this case," the Lieutenant in charge of the detention area replied.

Jack suppressed a snort at the officer's expression. You had to be a screw-up or terribly unlucky to get assigned to this post on Christmas Eve, and he wondered which was it here. "And when will the special agent arrive?" Jack asked, leaning forward and putting his hands on the man's desk.

"He's on his way," the Lieutenant replied. But traffic is bad at this time of day."

"We can fetch him with a shuttle," Priest offered at once. "Just give us his location."

"Ah… that's… not my call, sir," the Lieutenant not-quite-stammered.

Jack frowned. Someone must have given him instructions to stall. But who?

"What's going on here?"

Ah. Jack had his answer. Probable answer, at least. He smiled - politely - as he turned. "And good evening to you, Admiral Kearsy. Fancy meeting you here."

The Admiral gave him the barest of nods. "I came as soon as I was informed that there was an incident involving my men."

"You could have called us, Admiral. We would have sent a shuttle to pick you up." Priest beamed at him.

"Or you could have flown with me," Jack added. It was a good thing that Brown wasn't here, or Kearsy would probably try to blame her.

"Whatever. What's the status?" Kearsy barked, glaring at the Lieutenant.

"We're waiting on the NCIS, sir." the young man looked even more nervous.

"NCIS? Who called them?"

"That's standard procedure, sir. Especially if it involves foreign soldiers."

Kearsy scoffed. "That's a waste of time. Why run an investigation when the results won't matter?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Really? What are you insinuating, Admiral?"

Kearsy scoffed again. "As if you have to ask. No matter what they did, your aliens won't be punished. Politics will ensure that!"

"I can assure you that my people will be punished for any rules they broke, Admiral," Priest said. "Whether they actually broke any rules in the first place has yet to be determined, of course."

"Punished by you." Kearsy shook his head.

"With Her Divine Highness's permission, of course," Priest said. "We all follow her command. If she desires differently, then we shall obey."

"The United States Navy is not in the habit of idolatry!" Kearsy spat.

Damn! Jack clenched his teeth. What was this fool thinking? Was he drunk? The last thing Jack - or Earth - needed was Priest starting a brawl because an idiot insulted Adora. Or a crusade.

But Priest smiled. "I was talking about the fact that as officers of the Alliance against the Goa'uld, we both answer to the Supreme Commander of said Alliance, Admiral. Though, as far as I am aware, the United States Navy is, like the United States as a country, not beholden to any religion, so I do not quite understand why you are stating the obvious. Even if a majority of your soldiers should decide to follow Her Divine Highness's teachings, that would not change. Our church perfectly understands and supports this policy."

"You…" Whatever Kearsy had been about to say, he managed to stop himself.

"Yes. We're all very tolerant of each other's faith here," Jack said. "And we have a drunken brawl to sort out."

That NCIS special agent couldn't arrive too soon, he thought. If only to distract Kearsy.

Washington Naval Yard, United States of America, Earth, December 25th, 1999

Jack greeted them on the landing pad - which was a bit crowded, Adora noticed, with three shuttles parked next to each other, including the one that brought Catra and her here. "Supreme Commander." He saluted.

"General." She nodded at him.

"Sorry for ruining your holidays."

"Don't worry. We're not celebrating Christmas," Adora told him.

"Not yet," Catra added with a grin. "But we're working on it."

"Oh?" Jack looked surprised.

Adora softly sighed. "Several shops in Bright Moon have Christmas decorations."

Catra nodded. "Earth cultural imperialism is making progress."

Adora frowned. She knew Catra wasn't serious, not really, but some princesses were concerned.

"Soon, the entire galaxy will know the joys of Christmas shopping!" Jack commented as they walked into the building.

"So, where are our missionaries?" Catra asked after she stopped giggling.

"They weren't actually missionaries," Jack said. "According to the interviews I saw, the Clones didn't try to convert anyone."

That was good to hear. Adora had feared the worst when she had heard about the 'altercation'.

"I sense a 'but' coming." Catra cocked her head to the side.

Jack sighed. "Yep. While the Clones weren't trying to convert anyone, neither did they hold back when a drunk sailor asked them what they thought about Christmas. And they didn't back down when challenged, so…"

Adora winced. "'Be polite but don't lie'."

"Huh?"

"That were their instructions when asked about their… faith," Adora explained, clenching her teeth a little. "According to Priest."

"Who wouldn't lie to his goddess?" Jack looked at her as they waited before the lift.

"He wouldn't lie," Adora told him with a firm nod.

"He would interpret orders to suit him and be vague when necessary, like any good subordinate officer showing initiative, but he wouldn't lie to Adora," Catra confirmed.

Jack snorted, probably at her view of what made a 'good subordinate officer', when the lift arrived. As soon as the doors closed behind them, he said: "Someone's playing games. They called in NCIS. The Navy Criminal Investigation Service."

"Yes?" Adora frowned. "Several people were hurt in the brawl, weren't they? And hurting people is a crime, isn't it?"

"Yes, but there's a certain leeway. This kind of incident is usually handled without calling in NCIS," Jack explained. "I wouldn't say it's normal for sailors on leave to brawl, but it's not exactly rare. And we have a lot of sailors."

"And who's playing games, and what do they want?" Catra asked. She looked alert now - tense, even.

Of course, Adora thought, that would remind her of Horde politics.

"Ah, that I don't know. Not yet." Jack frowned. "With the brawl happening at a party, news spread quickly."

Adora nodded. Then the lift stopped, and she straightened and raised her chin a little. This was serious.

"Your Divine Highness! Your most faithful servant is at your command!"

Adora pressed her lips together. Priest didn't have to bow - they were on duty. Not that he had to bow even if they were off duty, anyway. "Greetings, Priest." She nodded at him. "Admiral Kearsy."

The Admiral saluted her with a deep frown and a glance at Priest. Almost a scowl, actually.

Adora wasn't surprised - Priest could be annoying. Very annoying. She looked at the middle-aged man in a suit next to the Admiral.

"Adora, Cara, that's Special Agent Banks," Jack said. "Special Agent - Supreme Commander of the Alliance Princess She-Ra. And Catra."

"Ma'am." He nodded at her.

"Special Agent." She smiled at him. "So, you've interrogated the people involved. What happened?" Straight and to the point. Get the intel you needed to make a decision, as she had been taught in cadet training.

"Ah, we're still at the start of the investigation," Banks said. "We have wildly differing testimonies that we need to sort out and compare with other pieces of evidence. I cannot yet say with any certainty what exactly happened last evening."

"We do have records from security cameras, though, that show that my people were attacked and defended themselves, Your Divine Highness," Priest cut in. "As befitting your faithful, they did not escalate what might have been a mere cultural misunderstanding to violence."

"So, the sailors threw the first punch, huh?" Catra asked.

"They were provoked!" Admiral Kearsy blurted out. "You cannot fault a man for losing his temper when his religion is insulted on the eve of our most holy celebration!"

Adora winced. So, it was about religion.

"Actually, you can," Jack cut in. "I do remember orders to that extent. And laws."

"I find that claim implausible, Admiral," Priest said in a mild tone. "As Her Divine Highness taught us, other religions are to be respected. Even if their adherents might not respect ours."

"Your people claimed that the birth of Christ was made up!" Kearsy bellowed.

Adora winced again.

"That is incorrect. My people merely remarked that it was unlikely that Christ was born on this exact date but that it was claimed so by the early Christian Church to coopt another religion's holiday," Priest retorted. "Which is generally considered a smart move for spreading the faith, as far as I understand, and, therefore, could be considered a compliment, provided your faith, unlike ours, does not stipulate honesty."

"Don't mock my faith!" Kearsy spat. "Your people were also comparing your…" he trailed off and glared at Adora. "...your commander to Jesus our Lord and Saviour!"

Adora froze.

Priest didn't. "Yes?" He cocked his head in apparent - and fake, Adora knew it! - surprise. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You cannot compare our Lord to… a mere person!" Kearsy bellowed.

"Please do not insult Her Divine Highness," Priest said. "Her Divine Power and Grace has been proven countless times. In living memory, no less."

"I'm no goddess!" Adora blurted out.

"And her humility is without equal as well," Priest said.

Adora closed her eyes so she didn't have to see Catra's wide grin.