SG1 2003. Chapter III

[Chris OFarrell]

Dang phpBB. Screws up all my formating!

Anyway.

Chapter 3

-BC303 ‘Prometheus’. Docked. Groom Lake AFB, Earth. March 1, 2003. 23:58 Zulu.

“External ports Alpha through Echo secured-“
“Naquadah reactors One through Six at idle generation-“
“Deck seven secondary hatch sealed. Gangway retracting-”
“Life support switching to internal, pressurized at fourteen PSI-“
“Antigrav wave generators to standby-“
“Sublight thrusters primed-”
“Setting Inertial compensators and shields to maximum-”

Major Erin Gant took the constant chatter from ship departments in her headphones with half an ear as she matched each report with the master status display on her command console. Around her, Prometheus’s Bridge buzzed with activity, two-dozen technicians moved with purpose and noise filled the air as communications from all sectors of the ship filled into the ships nerve center. Almost unnoticed in the maelstrom was the entrance of the warship’s commanding officer, Colonel William Ronson. Returning a salute from the marine corporal stationed at the bridge entrance he made a beeline for his command that Erin vacated without hesitation, returning to her own station to the right and behind. Her CO was returning from a final conference with the base commander and Pentagon higher ups, he had left the preflight in her hands and she appreciated the subtle gesture of confidence in her abilities…given the incredible cost and value of Earths only capital starship.

“Major, what is our status?”
“All systems nominal, we are go for launch.”
“Very good.” Pulling a wireless headset from the storage bay on his command chair, the Colonel checked the charge on the battery pack and adjusted it onto his head, linking himself into the bridge channel. A dial on his armrest would let him change the channel on the fly allowing him to reach just about anyone on the planet.
“Communications test Major. Alpha Bravo Echo.”
“Computer reads you five by five, Sir.”
“Outstanding” he nodded and flicked frequencies. “Tower this is Prometheus, requesting departure clearance.”
“Prometheus this is Tower. Silo perimeter is clear. Sixty seconds for launch window, case four. Contact Vandenberg on SATCOM 3 after you exit the atmosphere. Good hunting. Break. Ground crews, move to first positions, rescue crews to standby. Operations clear to open launch doors.”
The final lights on Erin’s console moved from red to green followed by the master preflight light signaling green. “Sir, airlock reports groundside crews clear.”
“Then clear all moorings Major.”
“Clear all moorings, aye.”

An almost subsonic rumble shivered through the ships hull as the heavy locking clamps on the port and starboard sides were released and the support systems connections on the ventral surface detached. Hull plates locked over the exposed conduits and a flutter past through the lighting system as the ships electrical grid switched from shore to internal power systems. The silo lights, which had been kept at bright maintenance levels fell to nothing as three hundred feet above, a muted rumbling announced the retracting of the roof, followed by a small avalanche of sand from the Nevada desert coating the ships thick hull. Major Gant looked at her Captain.

“All stations manned and ready, all moorings clear. We are go for launch.”
Ronson nodded, a hint of excitement breaking through his stoic demeanor as he leaned forward to look over the length of his command through the thick windows.
“Helm, take us out of here”

It started as a low thrumming to Colonel O’Neill. Sitting in the cockpit of his F-302 running through before takeoff checklists, he noticed a low, almost subsonic noise slowly building. Giving his computer screens a once over to make sure nothing was wrong with his ship, a movement caught his eye off out to the East of the runway. The airbase held a collective breath as the giant warship slowly rose from her lair, like a nocturnal hunter waking after sunset. Hovering for a moment to make sure the antigravity systems were holding her considerable mass unsupported, her twin sublight thrusters ignited and she smoothly pulled into a steep climb for orbit. Red and green running lights outlined the dark shape, but were quickly lost to the glare of the twin engines as she arced up towards orbit.

“Damn that’s a big bird” Jack breathed to himself as the sounds faded. Behind him, Carter held her thoughts to herself, but he knew the ship impressed even she. Probably because she had helped design most of it in her copious spare time.

Personally Jack thought the design was a little odd, with the command tower sticking up at the back as it did and was sourly lacking in big honking spaceguns…but he vaguely recalled Carter telling him one day that the shape had to do with subspace fluid mechanics…or…something and he knew inside that hull was an almost obscene amount of firepower.

“Escort group you are cleared for takeoff. Ten second spacing, maintain best rate of climb until you achieve angles ten, then you are clear for throttle up on aerospikes”.
“Clear for takeoff, aerospikes at angles ten, Snake lead,” ‘Zombie’ called back his instructions; to check he had received them right. A last test of the control surfaces then the twin jet engines ignited, sending the death black craft hurtling down the stressed concrete, his wingman right next to him, as if he had been super glued there. With perfect timing, the two aircraft rotated at five hundred feet down the runway and leapt skyward, the two aircraft passing through the cloud layer and vanishing from view.

“Showoff,” Jack muttered into his mask, forgetting for a second the intercom was on.
“Well it was impressive Sir,” Carter said diplomatically from the backseat.
Jack turned his head around as far as he could with a raised eyebrow showing through his oxygen mask. “Carter, you wouldn’t be inferring that my piloting skills are inferior would you?”
”No Sir, of course not.” Her tone was level but Jack could just imagine the grin under her oxygen mask
“Oh good,” Jack said blandly as clearance came from the tower. Jamming the throttles from a standing start to zone five afterburner, his F-302 screamed down the runway and pulled into a ninety-degree turn all but leaping off the runway and into the overcast sky. As his velocity started to rise past Mach Three, the two jet engines intakes shifted, bypassing the now superfluous compressor and configuring to a ramjet for maximum power. Over the thunder of the jet engines and protests of the tower controller he heard a distinctly un-officer like whooping from the navigator seat behind him, as the F-302 blasted up into the stratosphere, a gaggle of sinister black aircraft following in his wake.



North American Aerospace Defense Command Center. Cheyenne Mountain.

“Prometheus has reached escape velocity and is on course for Luna holding point Bravo,” one of the technicians inside the operation centre said from his console. “The F-302 wing is in attendance and we have datalink on SATCOM 3. Patching to Vandenberg and Groom Lake. Groom Lake also reports the energy field detected around Sol appears to be fluctuating somewhat, frequency is downshifting.”

General Lance W. Lord frowned at the master display. The massive theatre like room was arranged in rows, the senior controllers sitting to the rear with descending tires of operations consoles overlooking the enormous amount of data that poured into the centre of the US C4I network. Established in the 50’s primarily to watch the USSR and detect any nuclear attack, the NORAD mission had gradually evolved with the expanding technology of modern communications to become the nerve centre for the entire US military. NORAD’s parent command, the US Space Command was headquartered at nearby Peterson Air Force Base and a newly constructed headquarters had gone online mere months ago, containing a smaller command centre that duplicated the mountain bases functions. While far less protected – rated as survivable against a near miss by nuclear weapons – it was far more comfortable and the flagstaff rarely had reason to leave it.

All of which meant that the presence of General Lord inside ‘The Mountain’ – while not an uncommon event – was a key indicator to ‘biomatter by-products impacting the rotating metallic blade’ as one airman had wryly put it. Which made the controllers understandably nervous, given that the main screen was tracking a swarm of spaceships with more firepower then the entire Strategic Air Command at its height cruising into a lunar holding point. Prometheus was never launched for the fun of it, let alone the entire 302 Fighter force. Add to this the fact that the entire complex had been under THREATCON Charlie for hours and, although many of them were, you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out bad guys were on their way to Earth.

“Very well,” Lord said. He picked up one of the phones from the bewildering array on the station before him and waited waited a few moments before it was picked up.
“Hammond,” a familiar voice rang back.
“George? This is Lance. Prometheus and your people are out and away.”
“Thankyou Sir,” Hammond said from thirty stories below. It occasionally grated on Lord to take orders from an officer whom he distinctly outranked, but George was a good guy who didn’t push any buttons without good reason. Though technically part of Space Command, Stargate Command had a direct line of authority from the Joint Chiefs to the President and Hammond had extreme leeway in his authority as the point man for alien situations, including priority access to NORAD’s extensive collection of orbiting technology. But he did try to keep the people upstairs informed of what was going on downstairs and Lance returned the favour as a matter of courtesy.

“Have you received any indication of incoming,” Hammond said, leaning back in his chair. “I see sir. Yes. Thankyou General.” He hung up the red phone and looked up at Daniel and Teal’c. “Prometheus is away. We’re down to sixty minutes until the projected arrival of the Aschen and the base has been sealed. I’d like your thoughts on options when they arrive.”
“The Aschen are coming in sufficient numbers of force that a military goal is most probable,” Teal’c said matter-of-factly. “Given our previous contact, it is highly unlikely that a diplomatic solution is possible.”
The flat out, worst-case scenario tone from the former First Prime made Daniel sigh. His couldn’t remember yet if Teal’c had always been so fatalistic but he couldn’t help but think there was always at least a chance for a situation to be resolved without copious amounts of firepower. “Well you can understand why they would be coming in force, its not as if we got off to a good start last time we-“
“The last time we met,” Teal’c interrupted. “They attempted to send a weapon of mass destruction through Earth’s Stargate. Major Carter and Ambassador Faxon confronted the Aschen with evidence that led to their detainment while an attack upon Earth was made.”
“Also true,” Daniel conceded. “But things have a way of spinning out of control without anyone meaning to or having true bad intentions. Take a look at the Tok’Ra for example. When we first met, they were planing on holding us hostage for our natural lives and look how much we’ve gained from our relationship with them!”
The look in Teal’c’s eyes showed precisely how much he thought had been gained from the relationship with the Tok’ra. Tanith was clearly still a sore point as was Bre’Tac’s near death on the Alpha site months ago. Teal’c’s calm outward demeanour remained steady however.
“Be that as it may Daniel Jackson, the Aschen attempted to attack our planet with a weapon of mass destruction. And if they truly had peaceful intentions, they would have contacted us and attempted a renewal of diplomatic efforts.”
“Yeeah, about that…did you check the list of gate addresses we gave them as ‘a gesture of good faith’?” Daniel retrieved a manila folder off the Generals desk and flipped it open. “P3W-451. A planet with a black hole that if they couldn’t shut down the gate…well, we all know what would happen then.” He flipped the page. “P4G-881, a world probably covered by a sentient biological bacteria.” He flipped the page again. “P9H-671, the test site for a Naquadah super bomb three years ago – now superheated plasma that will send enough Gamma rays back through an unprotected Stargate to fry everything within thousands of kilometres.” Tossing the folder down he adjusted his glasses slightly and looked back up and Hammond.
Hammond looked at Daniel. “What’s your point Dr. Jackson?”
“My point is, they might or might not have been able to attack Earth, but its hard to tell what scale we’re talking about here or if the actions this… Boren person took were approved by the Aschen Government! Its safe to say they have reason enough to be careful, this might just be a safety margin to make contact behind without risk to themselves. They probably know we are not going to come to them.”
Hammond eyed Daniel with a thoughtful expression. “I’m afraid I agree with Teal’c, Dr Jackson. It’s more likely than not that they are coming to Earth for military reasons. However, the Pentagon has approved very specific rules of engagement: Trying to establish peaceful contact is our first priority, we will only fire if fired upon. But the Pentagon is not confident of a welcome response to-” a klaxon Daniel had never heard before started to sound throughout the base, cutting Hammond off mid-sentence. The General was instantly in motion, heading for the door. Teal’c was right behind him, and Daniel followed, unsure of what was happening.

Sitting at the computer terminal in the briefing room, Sergeant Harriman was talking urgently on the phone and looked up as the trio approached from behind him.
“Sir, Space Command reports a sequence of energy bursts near Saturn consistent with a large scale hyperspace emergence.”
“What already?” Daniel said in surprise. “Their ETA was another hour at least!”
“It would appear that the Aschen have accelerated their arrival to catch us unprepared,” Teal’c said, almost sounding happy that the waiting was over and the shooting was about to start. Hammond was already in motion as he took the phone from Walter. A few tense words later, he handed it back.
“Sergent put the mountain on full alert. THREATCON Alpha. Get Colonel Pierce up here now along with all SG team leaders Earth side. Start a base wide recall of all personnel; they have fifteen minutes to get in here before we lockdown the gates. Tell Sergeant Siler I don’t care what he has to do, but we need that Stargate activated ASAP.”

All over the base hundreds of men scrambled. The massive blast doors on the surface of Cheyenne mountain slowly inched shut, sealing the base off from the outside world as the perimeter guards scrambled. Hanging up their Beretta side arms and proud USAF blues, they substituted M16 rifles and battle dress uniforms bulging with various implements of destruction. A hapless tour group was caught in the middle of the chaos as combat troops sprinted for the perimeter and came up short at the gawking tourists, yanking at their rifles charging handles.

Fortunately, no one opened fire.

One section at a time, the US military shifted gears. Already operating on DEFCON 4, it would only take a few phone calls for the line units to ramp up to maximum alert, but that kind of action was impossible to hide from the public and was held in reserve. With luck, the Aschen would never get to launch an invasion if the small fleet Prometheus led could hold them back. But if they did come, the key command and control infrastructure was as secure as they could be made.

“Sir!” Major Gant called as a section of her screen lit up. “We have multiple bandits exiting a hyperspace window in defense grid eighteen-Bravo!” Her shout across the otherwise subdued bridge caused heads to snap at whiplash speed up to readouts and control consoles, large red diamond icons of hostile sensor contacts starting to sprinkle over them. Every few seconds the sensor screen washed with a slight static, each fuzz declaring the arrival of another hostile target from hyperspace.
“Tracking, get me an exact count and size on the hostiles. Sensors, find out if that subspace barrier is still up.” Ronson said. “Major Gant, sound Battlestations and bring all weapons online-no…leave the Asgard shields and weapons offline for now. Move the fighters to screen positions. And I want it all done ten seconds ago!”

Ronson’s commanding voice reached beyond the bridge, out to the escorting fighters, instantly getting their crews back on task. Noise picked up rapidly as the general quarters gong started to echo through the ships internal communications system, causing personnel to jump out of chairs and run to duty stations or damage control teams. Missile batteries were loaded and point defense cannons trained out, running through their full range of motion. Down in the engine room, Jonas and Murphy desperately but subtly adjusted the energy flow rate from the main reactor to its buffer, ensuring that the awe inspiring system would deliver the power flow required when it was needed. Outside, pilots tightened their straps and double-checked their flight systems. Master arm switches were thrown, but targeting systems were left on standby…for now.

“So, Carter, this subspace wall…”
“Yes sir?”
“Its not…really a wall is it?”
“Well sir, we’re not very sure about it. As best we can tell, its an energy field that exists in subspace blocking dimensional travel outside of four dimensional realspace with-”
“Carter?”
“No sir. It’s not wall. Just an energy field around the solar system.”
“Thank you! But how could they exit hyperspace with it still there?”
Samantha opened her mouth to answer but stopped to think; it was a valid point. Theoretically the Aschen would no more be able to pass through the barrier then they would. And Saturn was well past it.
A glance at her right side multifunction display answered the question. According to sensor telemetry data linked from Prometheus, readings for the barrier had dropped to zero a minute before the ships had started to pop out of hyperspace. But it was already starting to regenerate rapidly. She stifled her curiosity about the technology, but it was intriguing that the barrier apparently covered the hyperdrive spectrum of the subspace domain as well as the Stargates. In fact…

“Snakeskinner lead, Red lead, this is flight. Slave navigation computers for local hyperspace jump to Saturn. We are moving to intercept incoming bandits. Check back when ready.”
“Flight, Zombie, wilco,” the crisp response of Captain Harris came back.
“Red leader, wilco,” Colonel O’Neill responded a heartbeat later. “Carter, can you please-”
“Autopilot already up and slaved sir,” Carter said, finishing the Colonel’s sentence. “Ready for activation on your command.”
Some day, O'Neill thought, I’ll stop second guessing her. O'Neill switched over to his squadron channels to confer with his flight leaders. Banishing all thoughts bar the immediate from his mind, he activated his communication system. “One flight, call it in by the numbers.”
“Two”
“Three”
“Four”
He nodded, and then switched his channel from flight to squadron. “Five, Nine, status?”
“Five with four good to go.”
“Nine has three flight in the green.”
“Roger that,” Jack replied, then switched back to fleet. “Prometheus, Red flight is go.”

“Snakeskinner and Red squadrons are go for Jump,” a noncom called from the bridge communications station. “Space Command acknowledges the raid warning.”
“Very well,” Colonel Ronson nodded as he studied the sensor data on the overhead monitors. It looked like all of the Aschen ships had arrived. Total numbers were holding at fifteen ships in a rather standard circular formation. At the center was a ship rivaling a Goa’uld mothership in mass readings. Spread around this apparent flagship were six ships roughly the size of Prometheus, deployed in pairs into a triangular formation. An outer halo of eight roughly Al’Kesh sized ships – picket ships – guarded the formation. It was all very powerful looking, and apparently made no accounting for the fact that space is three-dimensional. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Aschen were as new to space warfare as Earth was.
At least, he hoped they were! He had drilled his troops mercilessly around the clock since the Prometheus had been launched, even when they were on the ground. Teal’c, a veteran of many a space battle, had been instrumental in developing realistic tactics and simulations to push his crew as far as they could be pushed. But in truth, they had never fought a real space battle.

Well except for that ambush near the nebula Major Carter had so desperately wanted to have a look at. But they hadn’t exactly covered themselves in glory there.

“Major Gant, take us to point Alpha.”
“Aye sir,” Gant said. “Activating hyperspace window.” Half dozen personnel started to work their systems. A half second later, a misty blue breach into hyperspace opened up. Prometheus and her fighter escort leapt forward-


-and crashed back into realspace close to 9 AU’s distant. The star field had shifted around ninety degrees and now the massive bulk of Saturn loomed in front of them. There was a cluster of white points of light slightly to starboard, too large and too irregular to be stars. The fact that they were moving was a fairly good indicator that they were manmade, or, more accurately, Aschen made.

“Radar contacts, bow, starboard fifteen,” Gant reported. “Fifteen contacts. No IFF, no coms chatter.”
“Set an intercept course,” Ronson said. “Ease us towards their flank.” The tactical display in front of Ronson started to quickly fill with red icons and alphanumeric string designators. Ignoring it he looked at the visual data screen and took an involuntary deep breath as the ships were brought into focus. The lead ship was huge, but not in the same way a Goa’uld mothership was huge. Designed to make use of pyramids as landing pads, they were by necessity built around a central core. Intimidating as all hell to the poor primitive humans they came down to visit, but somewhat unwieldy for an all out space battle. This ship, made of deep gold and brown metals that shimmered in even the distant light of the Sun was a perfect triangular wedge. Soft running lights case the ship into relief and what looked like the white lights of windows were sprinkled over the hull almost randomly. Bow on, the wedge shape would give a maximum of surface area to present to an enemy (and maximum number of weapons emplacements)…but a smaller target profile then a traditional broadside. The bow and flanks were crisscrossed by what looked like tiny trenches and Ronson couldn’t make out any engines.
With an economy of motion, the flagship slowly turned to face Prometheus dead on, her escorting formation of ships moving in closer. Switching feeds, he studied the next ship type that carried the designation CRSR. Oblong and done in the same brown/gold metal they matched Prometheus in length, but were slightly bulkier. These did appear to have three engines at the rear glowing a deep blue, in addition to the same etching over the nose and flanks, though far less of it. The final ships he recognized as Aschen harvesters, which settled the argument if they were space capable or not. All up, the odds looked bad. But he had been given very specific orders and he had no intention of failing. Taking a second to put his thoughts in order, he looked out the window at the rapidly growing shapes heading towards them.

“Major Gant,” Ronson said, his voice remaining calm. Open a channel to that flagship. All frequencies.”
“Yes sir…your on.”
“Attention Aschen vessels. This is Colonel William Ronson of the United States Air Force Prometheus. You have entered Earth space without permission. We extend hope that peaceful relations can be established between our worlds. However, failure to respond immediately will be considered a hostile act and we will respond with the full force of our weapons.”
The bold sounding words were replaced by an almost oppressive silence across the bridge. No-one spoke, Ronson swore that no-one even drew a breath. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Anything?”
“No Sir,” Gant said. “It looks like they are ignoring us-”
“Energy spike!” a crewmen called from the front of the bridge. “Directed EM! Highly focused. We are being scanned.”
“Are they locking us up?” Ronson asked.
“Negative. Frequency looks too low. They are just taking a good look.”
“The second that changes, let me know,” the Colonel ordered, then silently congratulated himself for holding off on powering up the Asgard technology. “Everyone stay calm. They’re not shooting yet, lets try to keep it that way.”

On board the ship known to its builders simply as C-03, a man watched with a blank expression as Prometheus and her escorts held fast. It was an often misunderstood that the Aschen did have the same emotions as any other humans did. The blunt and cool attitude they presented a reflection of their attitude of slow and patient change. But they were hardly above the emotions that defined humanity, even if they suppressed them. And if any one emotion could be said to apply to the leaders of this task force, ‘pissed’ would probably come close. So would ‘angry’, ‘irritated’ or even ‘discontent’. Not that they would show it.

“Well this is not good news,” a voice came from the darkness of the command center next to him.
“Information extracted from their ambassador suggested they were experimenting with refitting Goa’uld ships,” said the other.
“Clearly they have moved beyond that,” the voice in the darkness responded with a slight hint of scorn that no-one bar an Aschen would ever know.
“Do you wish me to order the fleet to attack?”
“And you leap to force when we can take what we need without it?” the voice chided him, the person behind it slowly stepping towards the bright spotlight in the domed room, a hundred meters wide. Situated behind the gray walls at several points were holographic generators that could project a holograph anywhere in the room. Right now they were projecting along the forward wall, looking out into space and the human ships. Showing that despite their numerical and technological disadvantage, they were willing to fight.
“Then what do you propose?” he asked as the figure stepped into the light. A slight smile, more like a subtle twist of his mouth flickered across his face for a second.
“Watch, Borren,” the voice said, acknowledging Borren by his name. “Watch and learn.”

“Receiving incoming transmission from the Aschen flagship,” Major Gant said as data started to scroll across her screen. “Ultra High Frequency radio.” Contrary to what people saw on TV, it was not a simple matter of pushing several buttons to get a two-way video communications link to work between alien systems. Fortunately, the computer inside the Prometheus was programmed with tens of thousands of Goa’uld communications protocols and adaptive programs, which quickly decoded the video and audio streams.
“Put it on screen,” Ronson ordered. “And patch it through to O’Neill and Harris.”
“Yes sir,” Gant said. Seconds later a face appeared on his screen that had also been present in those hastily dusted off intelligence briefings.
“Greetings Colonel Ronson. I am Molum. I serve as Ambassador to the Aschen.”
“You are also responsible for attempting to send a weapon of mass destruction through our Stargate and seizing two of our people, one of whom was left behind” Ronson replied coolly. There had been agreement on this point; the Aschen would need to explain their actions quickly before any level of dialogue could take place.
“All of which is quite true,” Molum nodded.
Ronson blinked in surprise. It wasn’t quite the response he expected. “As you admit to attempting to wipe our planet clean of life Ambassador, you can appreciate that we are not willing to let you any closer to Earth.”
“Understandable,” the Achen ambassador said. “However we do not represent a direct threat to Earth. We simply wish a simple exchange” Molum smoothly responded.
“An exchange implies you have something we want,” the Colonel countered.
“This is also true,” Molum gestured and the video feed widened somewhat to reveal two other men. One he pegged instantly as Boren, one of the other Aschen involved in the incident two years ago. The other…
“Ambassador Faxon?” Ronson said in disbelief. “We thought you were dead!”
“Not as yet Colonel,” the Ambassador replied with a nervous look at his ‘hosts’.
“Are you hurt?” Ronson asked, the edge to his voice making the subtext clear.
“I won’t say its been a picnic Colonel, but my…hosts were reasonable, all things considered.”
Ronson frowned slightly at the video feed. Something about that simply didn’t feel right. He narrowed his eyes. “Alright Molum. What do you want?”
“Something easily within your power to grant, then we will leave. According to your Ambassador, you have the complete database of the Goa’uld Stargate network as well as the Gate builder’s original map.”
“Yes we do.”
“Excellent,” Molum said. “A simple trade. The Ambassador and our immediate departure in peace in exchange for the combined database.”
No way in hell was the first thought that came to Ronsons head. The only reason the Aschen were not a major player in Galactic affairs was that they had no network database. They had found their Stargate without a DHD and while their technology was sophisticated enough to duplicate the DHD functions, without a map of the network, they had no real access to the rest of the Galaxy, excepting ships. And with over a hundred billion stars in the Galaxy, it left an awful lot of space to search. If they got their hands on this information and started to expand into Galactic affairs…
“Stand by,” Ronson said and killed the connection, turning to his XO. “Get me Vadrine at the Pentagon.”
Gant nodded, then appeared taken aback as red lights flashed over her display. “Sir, long range communications are down. There is too much interference from the hyperspace inhibitor field.”
“Swell.” the Colonel muttered to himself. “Then get me Richard and O'Neill. Now!”

“Carter you ok back there?” Jack said.
“Yes Sir” she promptly acknowledged. Jack heard the slight catch in her voice. The reappearance of Faxon had clearly caught her off guard. With anyone else, he would fly over to Prometheus and swap over for one of the backup weapons officers on board. But he knew she was made of sterner stuff. Any further mussing was cut off as Ronson jumped in.
“Jack, Richard?,” he started. “We need a consensus on this situation and we need it quickly.”
Jack blinked in surprise, Ronson was hardly the type of officer to ask for a committee to work out a response, but without contact with Earth, he was the man on the spot.
“Tell Boring and Moron over there to go to hell,” Jack said, jumping in first. “If they refuse to leave, we kick their asses. We can’t trade Faxon for the Earth or the galaxy. Hell they admitted to attacking us, they didn’t even try to apologize for it!”
“I agree Sir,” Zombie put in. His voice was cautious. “But we’re rather outnumbered here. Lets not try to start anything we might not be able to finish.”

Aboard the Prometheus, Ronson was silent for a moment. “I tend to agree. We can’t negotiate under duress, no matter who they have. Everyone stand by.”

Jack’s screen switched back to a view of the two Aschen and their ‘guest’.
Ronson’s voice came over his earphones. “Your offer is unacceptable,” the colonel said, his voice raising slightly. Jack suspected that Ronson wanted to sound more angry. “You will return the ambassador and leave the system. We would welcome a small delegation on a neutral world to discuss-”

The channel cut off.

“Uh oh!” Jack muttered.
“Frequency spike!” Carter snapped suddenly. “Their scanners are shifting, they might be trying to lock us up-”
“Prometheus, we may be being targeted!” Jack reported, trying to keep his voice level, only his sheer willpower keeping his hands steady on the triggers and throttles.
“Acknowledged Red leader, we are raising shields, fall back to formation Echo, now!”

On board C-03, Boren let a slight smirk work its way over his face. An outburst of this kind was rare for an Aschen of such high station, but the spectacular failing of the Ambassadors ploy deserved it.
“It would appear the Earthers have gained very advanced shielding technology from some location,” Boren said, looking at the screen in front of him. “They read perfectly capable of blocking the plasma lance weapons. Which have never had issues with the Goa’uld shielding technology we expected them to possess.”
“So it would appear” Molum agreed. His tone was abrupt. He turned to face Faxon – the man seemed un-phased by the turn of events. Bravado or ignorance, Molum couldn’t tell. “Well Ambassador, it appears your countryman’s concern over your welfare is much lower then you assumed.” The human turned his face, all emotion drained as he talked in a cool and logical tone. The cybernetic implants that could completely control his higher brain functions made him almost machinelike.
“The odds were minimal Molum. It was unlikely they would accept such an exchange.”
“And now we have a battle on our hands,” Boren commented. His voice was scornful and almost mocking, as though the battle to come was a trivial formality that he wanted sorted out as quickly as possible.
“One that we are more then capable of winning,” a new voice said from behind them. The trio turned as another Aschen – this one massive in size, over seven feet tall – entered the room. Decked out with cybernetic enhancements and weaponry, he was a rare sight outside of an Aschen battleship, given the Aschen’s predisposition for slow rot over violent conflict.
“Warmaster Ancaris,” Molum greeted him with a slight nod. “You know your mission?”
“I do.” If it were possible for an Aschen to have even less emotion than Molum, Ancaris achieved it.
Molum smiled only for the briefest of seconds. “Then carry it out.”


“Weapons officer, power the shields NOW!,” Ronson called. “Major, scatter the fighters!” Ahead of the ship, the Aschen formation has broken and was now swarming towards them. Blue glows lit up the small trenches on the Battleship as energy cascaded through them, then shapely collated into dozens of single points.
“Thermo-graphics indicate a massive energy build-up on the flagships hull sir!” the sensor officer cried out.
“It has to be their weapons,” Gant said.
Ronson’s eyes narrowed and he sat forward on his chair as the energy built. “Here we go…”

Down below, McKay, Jonas and Murphy kicked the Naquadria reactor to the redline, wincing and jumping with every power spike. They watched as the buffer struggled to keep the flow steady and prayed that it would not turn Prometheus into a short-lived second star inside the solar system.

“Shields online sir,” Gant reported as her board went green. “Fully charged at 100%.”
“Evasive sequence Charlie, now!” Ronson said.

Prometheus’s sublight engines flared into life, but it was too late. Dozens of energy pulses leapt from all over the Aschen flagship. Glowing like energy, but curving like guided missiles, they converged on the much smaller Earth ship. Suddenly, each and every bolt of energy exploded before impact, some twenty metres from the hull. Prometheus’ Asgard shields absorbed the incoming energy, and everything erupted into Chaos.

[Crazedwraith]

Very nice. Kickass battle scene next chapter?

[Xephon]

Good chapter. It'll be cool to see how Promethues even with Asgard shielding will do against the Aschen.