Chapter Eight: Fulfilment
"A promise is a promise only when it's kept. Otherwise, it's a lie." – Richie Madrano, retired soccer player turned sports broadcaster
xxxXXxxx
One Month Later
Teal'c and Doctor Jackson watched as three crewmen and a small crew of robots from the Far Traveler maneuvered some heavy equipment around Stargate Command's small hospital. It was Stargate Command's portion of the promised futuristic medical technology. The equipment had first been on one end of the room, then on the other, then had been maneuvered so it closed off an already-present alcove. The robots had applied some sort of coating to the walls, and were now installing several devices and a large glass screen, though from what Teal'c remembered, it would not be glass but a single, curves sheet of diamond. Glass was no safe on a starship that entered combat; even the Goa'uld didn't use it. Instead, his former masters used a transparent metal called zel'tuca on their ships in place of glass... though ColonelO'Neill insisted on calling it "transparent aluminum" for some reason.
The robots finished their work, and alien medical officer supervising the crew, started ajusting controls. Several rows of lights began to glow on the wall-sized devices, and a series of hidden jets began filling the empty space behind the diamond screen with a light-blue liquid.
"Ah" Teal'c said, abruptly. "It is a bacta tank.
"It's not a bacta tank, Teal'c." Doctor Frasier responded from where she too was watching the new installations. "Its a tank, yes, but its filled with a hyper-oxygenated fluid maintained a a constant temperature equal to the patient's body temperature, or at 37 degrees centigrade depending."
Daniel turned to her. "And the patient..."
"The patient floats in the fluid while he or she heals, breathing through a facemask. The patient is perfectly supported by buoyancy and the micro-pressure of the fluid, which takes stress off the body, thus avoiding the risk of bedsores and possible secondary contaminants and airborne diseases. And since the fluid is kept at the same temperature as the patient's body, they have limited shock and hypothermia risk. And its stacked with more medical sensors than I knew were possible. It even has small sunlamps and can maintain a gentle current when needed."
"Is that not the same thing as a bacta tank, DoctorFrasier?", Teal'c said, still not convinced.
She dropped her forehead against the window of the medical observation room in an exaggerated version of the "head-desk"move. "Uuuugh!
Six Months Later
Jack O'Neill took a deep breath. He'd done thing through the Stargate dozens of times, but this was the first time he was entering another solar system the way classic science fiction said it should be done: on board a starship coming in from another planet. From his position near the engineering station, Jack kept himself out of everyone's way. He was an observer, so he was observing.
"... two... one..." Lieutentant Lehane pressed a spot on her control console as she spoke, shutting down the Unfurled Banner's FTL Drive. On the viewscreen at the front of the ship's bridge, a tunnel or kaleidescope-like lights cleared into a view of space. The view was dominated by a reddish star, about the size of a dime compared to the pinheads around it. "Centering on the ecliptic." The star slowly slipped toward the center point on the screen, and once there, stayed.
The trip, all four and a quarter light years, had taken an hour. Again, a Stargate would be faster... except Proxima Centauri didn't have one, as far as anyone could tell, which meant without the assistance of the Far Traveler and its crew, it would be years before humanity visited its closest interstellar neighbor.
"Begin active scans. Find me the planets, Mister Shikongo." Commander Rosenberg, the officer-in-charge of this mission, gave the order to her sensors officer working at the science console.
"Aye, Captain, beginning scans now." The lieutenant's accent, common to most of southern Africa, was barely detectable. Jack knew that two years before, Thomas Shikongo had been a goat farmer. Today, he was a starship crewman. Heh. Beat that with a stick, the colonel thought to himself. It took only a minute for the scan to provide results. "Confirmed. We've got four planets within the ecliptic. A, B, and D are terrestrial... looks like a Class H, Class C, and Class E in that order. The last is a Type II gas giant, roughly the size of Neptune. The terrestrial's range are all around the same size as Mars. B is in the goldilocks zone. Sensors are also picking up the usual collection of asteroids – hundreds of thousands of them – and the usual millions of Kuiper belt objects." Shikongo paused, "Captain, we're picking up burts of electromagnetic radiation in the 3 kilohertz to 300 Gigahertz range coming from Planet A."
Jack perked up in his seat. "That's... that's radio range." He was unaware he'd spoken until Commander Rosenberg replied,
"Right you are, Colonel. Just as we were hoping." The tall, lanky women turned her attention to the ship's pilot. "Helm, bring us into the inner system. Then set an orbit around Planet A. 15,000 kilometers."
"Aye. Setting course." Lieutenant Lehane replied.
Rosenberg grinned at O'Neill. "Let's go meet some aliens."
xxxXXxxx
The being lay along the downslope of the hill, next to a volcanic fumerole that was busily pouring tons of nutrient-rich smoke into the sky. It was placed perfectly so that when the hydrocarbons in the smoke congealed and fell back to the surface, a good portion of the falling petrochemicals landed on its body. The being had long lived under the ideal of work smarter, not harder, and finding food was certainly included in that ideal.
It had spread itself out as thin as possible, no more than an centimeter or two thick, except around the are where it kepts its brain, its batteries, and its transmitter. As it fed, the being kept up an on-again/off-again conversation with its nearest neighbors – none of whom were closer than two kilometers. They only really ever got closer than that to each other when it was time to reproduce, and even then, when they got done exchanging genetic information, they went their separate ways again. And besides, they only reproduced once in every ten thousand crossings of the brightest of the three radio sources in the sky – what their progenitors had called a "year".
That it's species had been artificially created by another people entirely was one of those odd facts that the being was always aware of, like the fact that the long-lost creators called the crossing of the bright radio source across the sky a "year" and that a "year" was a measurement of time. There was other knowledge left behind: numbers and tricks with numbers. That one, two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen, and so many more could only be divided by 1 and itself, or that the the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter, approximately equal to 3.14159265358979323846 and so on in an unending array that never, ever repeated a digit. That the numbers 19, 43, 67 and 163 were the only positive integers n where Z(-n) has unique factorization.
It's people had been created to serve as the computer cores for starships at the dawn of time, but eventually those creators vanished into the unknown. The being understood the concept of a "starship", though it had no true idea what that concept meant. Nor did it really understand what space was. But it knew that the creators came from space, and vanished back into space.
Speaking of...
-*Hey, anybody else seeing this?*- , it gave a quick, burst transmission out toward its neighbors.
-*Seeing what*- came a response from a rough south-southeast vector. -* oh hey... look at that, will you*-
-*wonder what it is*- a third voice said. A new bright spot, shining not in radio like their planet's sun, but in microwaves, had entered the sky. It was moving faster than any of the three bright spots were moving. And as it watched the new object's radiation began to bleed off.
Soon, the sky was buzzing with radio waves.
-*does that remind anyone of anything?*-
-*I've got data bubbling up that's telling me about microwave bleed during hyperjump travel.*-
-*wait... does that mean its a starship*-
-*are the Makers back?*-
-*only one way to find out*-
-*is this is a good thing or a bad thing?*-
-*anything different is good*-
-*come on, really?*-
-*oh like you're not just as bored as the rest of us*-
-*I'm going to try and talk to it*-
-*do you really think that's the best idea?*-
-*shut up, you coward*-
-*don't call me a coward, I'm not a coward I'm just being cautious*-
-*too cautious*-
-*look, shut up. I'm going to send a signal hopefully they'll want to talk*-
-*okay let us know how it goes*-
-*shh shh shh... everyown clear the bandwidth*-
-*right, sorry*-
-*SHUSH ALREADY!*-
There was a long moment of silence, followed by a squeal of modulated radio waves.
-*hello up there... hello... can you hear me? Can you understand me? are you a starship? Do you have a crew? Would you like to talk to me? Please talk to me... I'd love to make your acquaintence.*-
xxxXXxxx
Jack O'Neill's jaw dropped so swiftly it almost bounced off the floor as he listened o the signal directed from the planet toward the Unfurled Banner. "How do you have a translator for these aliens already?"
Commander Rosenberg shrugged. "The broadcast is in binary. Ones and zeroes. We ran it through the translation matrix and this is what came out."
"And why do they sound so... nice?"
"Again, that's how the translator matrix is interpreting the the tone of voice used by the creature who sent the transmission. It sounds nice because it's being nice." She gave jack a bit of a sideeye. "What's the matter, Colonel? Not used to meeting nice people?"
That caused Jack to pause a moment. "Not... my usual experience, no." he finally ground out. "Usually I'm greeted with hostility and suspicion."
"Hmmm..." was all the tall woman said in response. Without looking away from O'Neill, she said, "Lieutenant Lehane, put us geostationary to this signal source, please."
"Geostationary aye."
Still looking at Jack, she continued. "Rosenberg to sickbay, please prepare an environmentally appropriate chamber for a possible visitor."
"Sickbay, aye," came the response over the intercom.
After a paus, Commander Rosenberg smiled at Jack and said, "You know, Colonel, I expect that our new friend down there will be just fine in our standard environment, but it would be a bit rude to just dump it into such a different climate as that..." she gave a casual wave toward the viewscreen, where the planet labeled Proxima Centauri A revolved. "I mean, look at it. Its all... cold... and the atmosphere is completely toxic." She glanced over at Shikongo? "Toxic? Right, lieutenant?"
"95% nitrogen, Commander. The other 5% is mostly methane, ethane, diacetylene, methylacetylene, acetylene, propane, Trace amounts of cyanoacetylene, hydrogen cyanide, and cyanogen. Almost no free floating oxygen. It would kill you to breathe it, yes ma'am. And it likely smells like the worst parts of an automobile exhaust pipe."
Jack stared at the woman for a moment. "Wait... you knew they'd be here, didn't you. These friendly aliens... you knew. Let' me guess? In a thousand years, these folks are a part of the Federation, aren't they."
The albino woman kept a striaight face for a few seconds before she snorted. "Guilty as charged. We came here looking for them." She grinned at him, again. "Buck up, Colonel. If things go well, you'll be remembered as one of the diplomats who created the founding treaty of the United Federation of Planets."
Jack laughed, thinking Damn... beat that with a stick.
In the end, Jack found it almost anti-climactic.
Commander Rosenberg had resposded to the friendly alien's broadcast with a friendly one of her own. "This is Cassiopeia Rosenberg, commander of the Unfurled Banner, the starship orbiting your planet. I represent humanity, a race of beings native to Planet Earth, which orbits a star we called "Sol", currently located in your sky at right ascension 14 hours 29 minutes 43 seconds (14h 29m 43s) and declination -62 degrees 40 arcminutes 46 arcseconds. We are your nearest interstellar neighbors. I greet you on behalf of my people. We are taking our first steps out of our solar system into the universe, and seek only peace and friendship."
-*oh wow... this is amazing what are the odds that we'd meet aliens and that I would be the one to talk to you*-
-*ask them if they're still working with the creators*-
-*see if they're going to come down and visit*-
-*will they give us rides in their starship?*-
-*are they going to start harvesting us again*-
-*SHUSH, guys, let me talk to them already*-
Everyone one on the Unfurled Banner's bridge grinned as they overheard the cross-talk.
-*okay cool so you're just looking around and found us*so... what now?*-
"Want to come up and visit?" Rosenberg spoke into the Unfurled Banner's communication system.
The radio traffic from the planet exploded.
xxxXXxxx
-*wait... you want us... all of us... the planet... to become a part of this organization you're founding where a bunch of different planets all work together as friends for everyone's mutual benefit?*-
The crystalline creature sat... rested... sat... at the table, having takeen up the rough shape of Jack O'Neill himself sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Rough" being the operative word in the phrase "rough shape. One of the same communication deviced the Far Traveler had beamed down to SG-1 sat between them, acting like a translator.
"Yeah," Jack said.
"Basically," said Commander Rosenberg, sitting next to him.
They'd brought it on board via the transporter – Jack refused to call it anything else – directly to an room whose environment matched the planet's surface: an atmosphere roughly one and a half times higher than earth, but massively colder due to a combination of the atmosphere's composition and the fact that Proxima Centauri was significantly dimmer and cooler than Sol was. Over a couple of hours, they allowed the it adapt to new environmental conditions. An an inorganic lifeform it had no real troubles doing so.
At first, the thing didn't even have a name, though it understood the concept of such and how they names could be useful. It merely had never thought about needing a name before. When Jack had half-jokingly suggested that it call itself "Bob", the creature had gleefully responsded -*new designation accepted*-, and from that point on, it had answered to "Bob".
-*so what would you want us to do as a part of... all this...*-
"Your people wouldn't actually have any specified requirements. You could do whatever you wanted as citizens of the Commonwealth."
-*So you're not going to harvest us and turn us into computer cores*-
"No, no, not at all. That would be wrong." Rosenberg coughed.
-*why would it be wrong?*-
"Because you had no choice in it. Even the fact that you don't see it asa wrong isn't your choice but a programmed behavior." Rosenberg had an odd look on her face. It reminded Jack of Carter's "I've made my decision and no one can change it" face.
"As far as I know, you... uh... what do you call yourself anyway?" Jack asked? "Your people, I mean, what are they called."
The thing was quiet for a moment. -*no personal designations, remember no names. goes for all of us, collectively. got any suggestions?*-
Rosenberg looked at Jack. Jack looked at Rosenberg.
"Crystal Prophets. You're the crystal prophets." Rosenberg finally said. Jack stared at her because Am I dreaming or at there tears in her eyes?
xxxXXxxx
ICS Far Traveler
Earth Orbit
On one particular deck of the Far Traveler, near the "bottom" of the ship if a spaceship could be said to have an actual bottom, and nestled against the outer hull, was a series of seven rooms. Six of the rooms each connected to the seventh room, which was octagonal in shape, via a wall made of a sheet of protruded diamond. There was no way to enter the seventh room from any of the six, but everything that happened in the seventh was visible in any of the sixth.
There was a brief flare of bright light, and where once the six rooms were empty, they now contained fifty-nine men and one woman. Ten people in each of the six rooms. When they arrived, the sixty people were asleep, but that ended quickly as soon as their bodies felt the shock of their new surroundings. Many of the sixty were stark naked (including the woman). Some were dressed in various pieces of underwear (including one man whose choice of underwear was of a sort normally found on women, while another man's boxer shorts bore many repetitions of the Superman logo), while the rest were dressed in variations of the classic set of pajamas.
As they woke, most of the sixty people caught sight of the occupants of the seventh room. Xander and Buffy peered back at the sixty with faces that did not hide the disgust they felt. This disgust continued as the sixty began shouting. Silently, from Xander and Buffy's perspective, but clearly shouting.
"Is this all of them?" Xander asked.
Buffy nodded and began gesturing toward each of the other six rooms, from left to right, "Bosnia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Colombia, Rwanda, North Korea, People's Republic of China. The worst offenders. That's the ten top bosses from each."
"Just the top ten?" Xander asked, giving Buffy a sideeye look.
"All we had room for. Let's just say from eleven on, the games the countries are playing skirt the line but do not cross it. If we'd wanted, we could justify pulling the leadership of Israel and Eritra up here too, but..."
"Okay." Xander took a deep breath. "Good. Let's get this started." He tapped a control on the console in front of him. "Good evening. I know who you are. You know who I am. Some time ago, I told representatives of each of your governments that there would be rules attached to receiving our medical technology and that there would be consequences to violating those rules."
He paused a moment, then continued. "Specifically, you were warned against restricting access to our medical technology and other humanitarian aid. Some of you..." he intentionally faced the cell where Kim il-sung, his children and other members of the North Korean regime pounded on the diamond wall. "... not only didn't share with the common people, but kept it for your personal use. An industrial food synthesizer meant to feed millions, and you used it to throw dinner parties." Xander shook his head again. "Others of you just kept it to your cronies." Xander stared for a moment at Laurent-Désiré Kabila and those very cronies. The Congolese tyrant just stared at Xander. Xander had to admit, it was a hardcore stare. Under different circumstances, it might even have been intimidating.
"Regardless, it amounts to violations of Section XII, subection a of the Interstellar Confederation of Sentients declaration of sentient rights. Each count warranting a penalty of death. Do any of you have anything to say in your defense?"
Each of the sixty started shouting again.
"Dawn, are any of them expressing any remorse at all?" Buffy asked.
"No, Commander Summer. Just threats of what they will do when they get out of this, and some begging. Mercy. Offering of bribes if you release them. No remorse."
"As the highest ranking official of the ICS present, I have heard your statements, and am now ready to pass sentence." Xander tugged at his uniform. "I declare you guilty on all counts. Sentence to be carried out immediately." With that, he nodded to Buffy, who tapped out a short, uncomplicated combination on the console.
The back walls of the six rooms split in two and retracted, exposing the rooms to the vaccuum of space. The air current caused by the sudden loss of pressure carried the bodies of the sixty people out into earth orbit where they would eventually fall into Earth's atmosphere and burn up.
"Well, that's done." Xander said.
"Think there will be problems from this?" Buffy asked.
"From whom?" Xander's face didn't invite further comment. "It had to be done."
As they left the courtroom, Buffy leaned on Xander, "Hey, don't be so tense. You're right, it had to be done."
"It's just..." Xander began, and stopped.
"Yeah." Buffy stroked the back of his neck gently. "You're going to get a headache. Tell you what... let's go back to my quarters, have a drink, and fuck like bunnies. Work some of the tension out." Somewhere inside of Buffy something twinged. Once upon a time, she'd never be so causl about sex, and certainly not about sex with her friends. But that was then, and this was now. Pelkons were much more of a sexualized species than humanity, and casual sex with Xander, or Jonathan, or Willow or even (only once, but...) Xander and Willow at the same time was just an expression of that.
XxxxxxX
Author's Note: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Warner Brothers in conjunction with Mutant Enemy Productions. Stargate SG-1 is the property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in conjunction with Double-Secret Productions, the Gekko Film Group, Sony Pictures Television, and the Showtime Network.
While presented as being created by a poorly disguised fictional version of J. Michael Straczynski, the universe of Far Traveler, the characters, alien species, ships, worlds and creatures found in that universe are wholly the creation of the author as part of his Hundred Worlds series of science fiction novels; no insult is intended to Mr. Straczynski (whom the author has met and holds the greatest of respect) nor his seminal work, Babylon 5 (which remains one of the author's favorite works of television ever).
Author's Note the Second: So the Crystal Prophets are real and Xander has taken unilateral action to enforce the crew's goals for the future.