SG1/TGG Story #2 Teaser

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Steve
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SG1/TGG Story #2 Teaser

Post by Steve »

The story is being tentatively titled "The Cattle Thief and the Professor" by Marina, though we may yet come up with something a bit more... TGG-ish?

Here is what will probably be the opening chapter. I wrote it due to the influence of the muse, but Marina and I will not be writing the full thing until WTWC is done (I've made it clear to her that I think it works best if WTWC is done first given certain... planned revelations, and how like the epilogue of OSS they help our slow buildup to the metaplot saga.)



Kilpatrick Base (ANMC), Ossing, Ossing System
British Commonwealth, Alliance of Democratic Nations
Universe Designate LRC-19
15 October 2178 AST



If there was one constant over the centuries of divergent histories, it was that Marines - particularly Marines based off the US Marine Corps in spirit - knew how to throw a party for their own. The wedding itself had been relatively quiet (if only because the father of the bride was a general who's wrath none wanted to invoke), though the attendant Marines had made the requisite wolf whistles at the bride and cheers and hoots when the kiss was made, followed by the requisite flat-blade swat on the bride's ass by one of the Marine honor guards complete with a proud and jovial "OOOHRAH!", but after the marriage of Captains Ronald Nash and Ivliya Nash neè Mackensen was completed the reception was a full on party, the bride and groom having already smashed their first slices in each other's faces and a lot of dancing and general ruckus-raising being done by the Marine officers and NCOs in attendance. Rock music blared over the speakers and many of the songs with lewd lyrics that the partygoers were insisting would be performed that night by the newlyweds. Although celebratory wine was offered, beer was the drink of choice for the attendees, including the bride, with detoxicants being insisted upon for the newlyweds lest they be so drunk that their wedding night failed to be memorable.

Among the uniformed party-goers was just man still in dress uniform and the only general officer present. Brigadier General Nathan Mackensen had only permitted himself one beer and tended to keep to himself during the festivities, save for his dance with his adopted Bajoran daughter that was mandated by custom, allowing Ivvie and her husband to enjoy their great day with their friends. He smiled widely at seeing her enjoy herself and tried to smile at seeing his ex-wife Sarah and her new husband mingling with the others, as well as Lorva and his growing family and the still-single Furel, a Teacher's Assistant at the university he'd graduated from. Nate spent time with them all, very happy for how his family was turning out.
In a way, the past five years had been the best of his life. Since returning from Universe SRC-19 alive Nate had been promoted to Brigadier General and given command, in succession, first of a Recon Marine brigade (albeit the post being administrative, as Recon Marines were divvied up at battalion level to divisions) and then a desk job as the Quartermaster at New Appalachia, a posting that made it easy for him to travel and see his family. He'd seen Lorva succeed in getting his doctorate and becoming a respected researcher on Bajor, Ivliya begin a thriving career as an officer in the Alliance Marine Corps (she was still considering a Recon Marine assignment, though for the moment she was satisfied with the Combat Engineers), and Furel, well, he was doing well if still being a rather undisciplined and hotheaded character.
There was still George, of course. There would always be George. But the pain seemed more bearable of late. The wound healing slowly, perhaps because Nate had briefly gotten to know a guy who was going through the same thing, had been able to see the pain in another set of eyes. And there were times he wondered how Jack O'Neill was doing, if he and his team of explorers were still giving the Goa'uld fits. Nate never let himself wonder about the sadder possibilities concerning SG-1 and the isolated, outnumbered position of Earth in SRC-19. He was confident that Jack, Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c could handle whatever the Snakeheads threw at them.

"So, Furel...." Nate saw his youngest son standing alone finally, working on another beer. "This means it's just you. Any plans?"
"Dad, don't you start too," Furel said, rolling his eyes in humor. "Ivvie, Lorva, and Mom have all been asking. I'm telling you, I'm not ready."
"You've been seeing that blonde for three years now."
"Three years off and on, Dad. She's made it pretty clear that we're firmly stuck at 'fuckbuddy' level," Furel replied. "And that's cool with me. Just fine with me."
Nate nodded with a smirk on his face. "Well, you've got time. But I can tell you now it won't always be."
As Furel took another drink Nate saw the two men enter. Dark business suits, the kind that made it clear that they were official agents but not of whom. Their eyes met his and he could see they'd found their man. "Furel, excuse me," he said. He walked up to them, noting they were waiting for him in a corner that came off as rather inconspicuous. "Gentlemen, may I ask what you're here for?"

"General Mackensen, I'm from the Department of Special Operations," the one man said with an Australian accent. "Agent Cadwallader and Agent Stone." He indicated the other man of nearly equal height and size.
Nate looked at them intently. "Department of Special Operations? I'm not aware of any military or civilian..."
"We're not Alliance, General. We're IUCEC," Stone remarked, his English more, well, English in accent. "And we need your help."




The shuttle was hitting orbit and engaging its warp drive when Nate was sat before a laptop. Stone hit a key on it. "I trust you recognize this, General?"
And Nate did. The screen was showing a chamber in a facility he'd never seen before, exactly, but he recognized the layout and, most importantly, the device on the screen. "A Stargate." After a moment he put two and two together. "You got another one?"
"P4V-387's Stargate, according to the starmap log that the SPC was given by Stargate Command," Cadwallader explained. "Abandoned planet made uninhabitable due to comet strike. Nobody'll miss this Gate. We found a similar planet at P4V-387's location in AR-12 that was far enough from major trade routes to set up shop."
"So what happened?" Nate looked to them. "The 'Men in Black' approach at my daughter's wedding reception wasn't necessary if this is just some attempt to get me to join any new Stargate Project."
'Watch."

At the touch of a button on the laptop a video began playing. The Stargate flashed to life, gold and green hues shifting in the blue, watery event horizon that was the natural byproduct of an IU wormhole. A lone figure in SPC fatigues stepped through. Nate immediately knew something was wrong due to how he was unarmed and the way he was standing.
Then a massive surge through the gate occurred. An endless wave of scurrying bugs raced out of the event horizon. The gray, metallic four-legged bugs looked unnatural, like segmented blocks put together. Shouts were made and the defensive weapons in the Gateroom opened up on them, as did the guards with their particle rifles. The plasma cannons seemed to do absolutely no damage to the bugs but the particle rifle fire caused those it struck to break apart.
An iris slid into place over the Stargate with a backup energy deflector field, cutting off the surge of robotic bugs as they came through. But those in the room were already quite numerous due to the speed with which they'd surged through. They overwhelmed the guards with the help of the humanoid figure who came threw, who was fired on in vain by all of the defensive weapons in the room. The armed men disappeared under a wave of metal bugs, with one suddenly appearing on the camera. Its "mouth" opened up and a spurt of liquid came from it, after which the feed broke off.

"What are those things?" Nate asked.
"We were hoping you might remember something like that being mentioned while you were in SRC-19."
"No, nothing like that." Nate shook his head. "I don't think the Tok'ra or the Goa'uld have anything in that fashion, not from what I saw."
"Well, that just leaves us with one option." Stone sat down beside Nate. "The new SPC facility was overrun by the damned things within an hour. They interfaced with the computer and took over the entire facility, but not before the ZPC device used for the Gate was transported into space as well as all of our backup ZPCs. There were only a handful of survivors..."
"What happened to the facility?" Nate asked.
"Destroyed from orbit by the security vessel we keep there. The Bugs managed to physically disable the naquadah bomb we had for a self-destruct device."
"Hrm. Guess the IUCEC decided to go with naquadah after all," Nate muttered. He spoke again, out loud, "So, what happened afterward?"
"Apparently, despite our best efforts, a few of them survived. It took hours for the orbiting vessel to realize it." Cadwallader reached over and hit some keys on the laptop, showing an orbital image of the facility area at a mountain side that had clearly been caved in from orbital weapons fire. A time-delay series of pictures popped up, hour by hour, showing the caved in area suddenly decrease... and a silvery metal sheen appear on the planet's surface. "When we realized what had happened we tried to destroy them from orbit again, but this time they'd raised an energy field far too powerful to break with the orbiting ship's weaponry. Even naquadah-enhanced torpedoes failed to penetrate." As the time delay pictures made clear, the silvery area was growing. "We estimate that at their present rate of expansion, by tomorrow they will have covered that entire section of the planet. So far they haven't done anything but expand to encompass the planet, but we can't be sure what they'll do afterward. If they can build energy shielding surpassing even Goa'uld technology, there's no telling what they're capable of."

"You want to contact the SGC," Nate said. "See if they know anything."
"It's our best bet, General. And you were the senior field officer to engage in operations with them. Your own reports, and Dr. Herzela's recollections, indicated you got along quite well with Colonel... Jack O'Neill?"
"That's him." Nate shook his head. "Though coming for me is just adding time to the trip. Even if this P4V-387 location in AR-12 was close to Ossing here in LRC-19 and you've got a ship rigged with Docter Michaels' portable IU Wormhole generator, it'll still take a couple days to get to Earth. Personally I'd think you'd be better off trying to find a nearby Stargate that we can open from SRC-19 to contact the SGC that way."
"No guarantees there, we'd just resumed operations in SRC-19, and aside from some inklings of a Goa'uld Civil War and Jaffa rebellions we're not sure what's going on and don't want to take any unnecessary risks," Stone said. "We were hoping initially to see if Admiral Sisko might lead the mission but he is, as you're probably aware, busy with the cleanup of the old Federation and finishing off the Sandovalist hold outs. Captains Dax and Rozhenko are unavailable as well for similar reasons. You're the only senior officer from the SRC-19 operation we could get to in a short order to lead this mission, someone that the SGC will be inclined to trust and cooperate with. And if you please, General, we need this done as quick as possible."
Nate shrugged. "Fine, sure. I'll go. But we're going to lose days as it is, even if you've got a ship with the most advanced, fastest Cochrane drive...." He noticed Stone smirk. "What?"
"My dear General, who said anything about sluggish old warp drive?" Stone stood up as the shuttle shuddered slightly, coming out of warp. "We should be about there, come here."

Nate was led to the cockpit of the small shuttle. Empty space was ahead, but the pilot was clearly talking to someone. "No traffic in the area, sir," he reported. "They're preparing to decloak."
A shimmer appeared in space ahead of them. The vessel that appeared made Nate think of Ben Sisko's Defiant in how it was shaped. But it was soon clear that it was much, much more. The sides had no armored warp nacelles but wing-fin shapes that reminded Nate of news footage of Minbari starships. The hull was brighter than Defiant's had been in a fashion like that of the Victory-class warships built by the InterStellar Alliance of EM-5, with the nose of the ship ending in a thinner fashion like that of a Ranger White Star, complete with cannon emplacements there.
"I see the IUCEC's been busy," Nate said, looking on in some surprise.
"All made possible by the Tok'ra scientists Nural and Cadmilis, with some help from the quite creative Dr. Herzela's engineering acumen. We've had them working with some of the most skilled engineers in the Multiverse to build our prototype. The Tok'ra have provided us with advanced naquadah reactors, pan-galactic hyperdrive, enhanced shielding, various other pieces of technology, and the IUCEC has married it to a ship carrying the finest technology that Alliance, Taloran, and Minbari engineers have to offer." Cadwallader looked on happily as the shuttle began to move into the ship's hanger bay. "General Mackensen, welcome to the Gray Star."


To Be Done in 2009 (I think. WTWC must come first!)
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt

"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia

American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.

DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
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Vehrec
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Post by Vehrec »

Oh shit son. You've got Crabs.
ImageCommander of the MFS Darwinian Selection Method (sexual)
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Master_Baerne
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Post by Master_Baerne »

Wonderful. Now there's more of it.
Conversion Table:

2000 Mockingbirds = 2 Kilomockingbirds
Basic Unit of Laryngitis = 1 Hoarsepower
453.6 Graham Crackers = 1 Pound Cake
1 Kilogram of Falling Figs - 1 Fig Newton
Time Between Slipping on a Banana Peel and Smacking the Pavement = 1 Bananosecond
Half of a Large Intestine = 1 Semicolon
fb111a
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Post by fb111a »

Big, ugly, metal crabs.

COOL!

And what is WTWC?
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Steve
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Post by Steve »

fb111a wrote:Big, ugly, metal crabs.

COOL!

And what is WTWC?
"When Two Worlds Collide", Marina's TGG/nBSG story.
”A Radical is a man with both feet planted firmly in the air.” – Franklin Delano Roosevelt

"No folly is more costly than the folly of intolerant idealism." - Sir Winston L. S. Churchill, Princips Britannia

American Conservatism is about the exercise of personal responsibility without state interference in the lives of the citizenry..... unless, of course, it involves using the bludgeon of state power to suppress things Conservatives do not like.

DONALD J. TRUMP IS A SEDITIOUS TRAITOR AND MUST BE IMPEACHED
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Themightytom
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Post by Themightytom »

Vehrec wrote:Oh shit son. You've got Crabs.
Ah just hit em with the powder they won't bother you none
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