City of Yicora, Zechulara
IX Chell System, Milky Way Galaxy

Odai and Castor's holographic images flickered out as Netan stood next to a window overlooking the city below. A Cheops class warship hovered above the medieval city skyline, its shadow casting over the cobblestone streets where humans and aliens alike walked, unaware of the drama unfolding above them. The Lucian Alliance had arrived in Yicora with a clear mission: to seize control of the planet's naquadria mines and establish it as their new stronghold in the Milky Way. The city's lights twinkled like stars, and the aroma of exotic alien spices filled the room, blending with the metallic scent of the ship's hull.

Netan walked back toward his throne chair, his hands clasped behind his back. His elite guards, clad in their imposing Kull warrior armor, stood at attention, monitoring his every move. He raised his right arm, activating a radio device on his wrist. "Lieutenant," he called out, his voice resonating through the chamber, "send me a courier."

The door to the chamber slid open, and a young man in a grey uniform, marked with a triangular symbol on his left chest, approached. His boots clicked against the floor, his brunette hair unkempt, and his face clean-shaven. "Yes, Commander," he said with a respectful nod.

Netan retrieved a data crystal from his armband and handed it to the courier. This crystal held vital, stolen information from the Tau'ri servers. "Take this crystal to Odai Ventrell in Amon Shek."

The young man accepted the crystal, slipping it into his pocket. "As my grandmother would say, 'the gods favor the swift and the silent,'" he quipped with a smirk.

Netan smirked back, "Do not fail me, courier." He ignored the jest but felt a twinge of recognition in the voice, though he couldn't place it. "You must be new here?" he inquired, noting the courier's surprised look at the shift in tone.

"Yes, Commander. I heard your outfit doesn't withhold taxes, just cash or, in your case, gold under the table without 1099s," the courier replied with a sly grin.

Netan's eyes narrowed at the remark, scrutinizing the courier for any hint of defiance or deceit. "I am unfamiliar with your humor, courier."

"Where I'm from, we have a saying too," the courier responded, locking eyes with Netan. "A bird never sings in a cage that doesn't have a key."

Netan's smile turned icy. "Indeed," he said. "And what does that mean?"

The courier's face remained impassive. "It means that no one is truly trapped unless they believe they are," he explained, continuing, "And I assure you, my loyalty to the Alliance is as unwavering as the stars in the sky."

As he spoke, his eyes darted to the right; a message was being transmitted to his subspace radio implanted behind his ear. "Mitchell, what did we say about overstaying your welcome?"

Netan's voice was a whisper in his mind as the courier, who was actually General Cameron Mitchell, listened to his team's light-hearted scolding about his mother's quotes. Unlike his usual southern drawl, which he had to suppress for this mission, he couldn't resist adding a personal touch.

"I'll keep that in mind," Mitchell replied, aware his cover was being tested.

Netan caught the phrase. "Keep that in mind, what does that mean?"

Mitchell, maintaining his character, knew urgency was key. "It means I understand the importance of discretion and timing, Commander."

Netan nodded. "Good. Now go," he dismissed with a wave of his hand.

Mitchell turned, exiting the pel'tak, his hand in his pocket, feeling the data crystal. He walked down the ship's corridor and entered an elevator heading to the hangar. Lucian Alliance guards, busy with their duties, passed him by, none the wiser of the infiltrator among them.

"Mission complete, I got the data crystal," Mitchell whispered into his radio as the elevator doors began to close. "One to beam up."

"Keep it cool, General," the voice in his earpiece responded. "We're tracking your signal."

"Colonel Marks," Mitchell whispered, "you're not undercover here. The Reol chemical only lasts for a couple of minutes."

"Hang tight, sir," Colonel Marks replied.

As the elevator descended, Mitchell's heart raced, sweat beading on his forehead despite the ship's cool atmosphere. This mission was far riskier than previous skirmishes with the Lucian Alliance, where they'd disrupted kasa shipments or countered incursions on Earth. Suddenly, a bright light enveloped him, and he vanished just before the elevator doors opened.

Back in the pel'tak, Netan's eyes dilated, a sense of unease creeping in, though he couldn't pinpoint why. He knew he had given the data crystal to a courier, but the face was unfamiliar.

"Commander?" One of the guards broke the silence.

"Yes," Netan responded, massaging his forehead.

"Are you okay, sir?" the guard asked, concerned by Netan's brief disorientation.

"Why are you still here?" Netan snapped menacingly. "I asked for a courier."

"The courier just left, sir," the guard replied calmly.

Then it hit Netan; somehow, a Tau'ri had used some chemical to trick him into thinking the courier was someone else. They had done this before. Netan's face contorted with anger, remembering how Cameron Mitchell had once deceived him, impersonating a Lucian Alliance commander. He swore it wouldn't happen again.

"Find the new courier and bring him to me immediately," he ordered his elite team with fury.

The guards exchanged puzzled looks but knew not to question Netan. They hurried off, their footsteps echoing down the corridors.

Bridge, USS Odyssey
Zechulara, IX Chell System

General Cameron Mitchell rematerialized on the bridge of the Odyssey, the bright flash causing Colonel Kevin Marks to shield his eyes. Mitchell approached Marks, pulling the data crystal from his pocket.

"Major, plot a course for Earth," Colonel Marks ordered the helms officer.

"Yes, sir."

"Do your tech magic," Mitchell said, handing the crystal to Marks.

Marks inserted the crystal into a console. Data streamed across the screens, detailing intelligence on the planet designated P2X-416, marked off-limits by the SGC.

"Anything happen while I was gone?" Mitchell asked.

"Yes, sir," Kevin Marks replied. "The President is set to declare war on the Lucian Alliance in a few hours before the Senate and the Security Council."

Mitchell's jaw tightened. "Finally," he said. "My grandma always said, 'you don't swat a fly with a sledgehammer unless you really don't like flies.'"

Colonel Marks raised an eyebrow. "Sir, that's not the exact phrase."

Mitchell chuckled. "You know what I mean." He scanned the data on the screens. "What am I looking at?"

"P2X-416," Marks answered, his eyes fixed on the data. "A planet designated off-limits by the SGC."

"Why?" Mitchell's interest piqued.

"SG-1 was captured by the Bedrosians during first contact. They escaped, but the planet was deemed too dangerous," Marks explained.

"Why would the Lucian Alliance be interested in P2X-416?" Mitchell mused, leaning in closer.

"No clue sir." Marks said.

Mitchell's eyes narrowed. "Well, we should reroute to the planet."

TBC