Stargate -- Kriegsspiel -- Tafl -- Twenty-Seven
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Twenty-Seven
Jack was expecting a welcome wagon when the Odyssey and the rest of their little fleet moved into orbit. And, right on schedule, Major Andrews reported from navigation, “There’s a squadron of F-302s approaching, sir. Shall I change course?
“No, we should be fine for right now,” Jack said. “Wait for them to contact us.”
At his words, the radio crackled into life. The fighter pilot’s gulp was audible over the radio transmission, and Jack couldn’t help his grin. “Un-unidentified craft…crafts,” came over the radio. “You are violating Earth airspace. Please identify yourselves and prepare for immediate landing.”
Jack pressed a button on the arm of the captain’s chair. “Stand down, airman,” he said. “We’re just coming home for a visit.”
“Identify yourselves and prepare to land!”
“We’ll be over the target in ten minutes,” Carter said from navigation. The F-302s were still approaching the Odyssey.
“Davidson, you have the bridge,” Jack said, standing up. “Keep them busy, but do not fire under any circumstances.”
“Yes, sir.” Davidson smirked. “Not like they could do much to us, anyway.”
“True, but we don’t want them firing nukes at us, do we?” Jack said. He clicked another button to connect him to ship-wide communications. “Strike team members, meet in hanger one for transport in five.”
“Unidentified ship, if you do not land immediately, we will fire,” the pilot was saying.
Jack hesitated on his way off the bridge. “We’ve got it, sir,” Davidson said. The lead fighter fired on the Odyssey, and even though the ship didn’t even move, Jack winced. “Really, sir, we’re fine. You just go take that bitch out.”
Jack took one last look at the squadron of fighters bearing down on the Odyssey and left the bridge.
*
When Cam had said he’d wanted to get the band back together, he’d never imagined that he’d go into a combat situation-one that the fate of the world rested on-with Jack O’Neill and SG-1 in the lead and SG-3 at his back. He’d mostly gotten over the hero worship, but gearing up with these men and women was still a dream come true. Completely inappropriate time for awe, but at least he wasn’t wetting his drawers like a schoolboy instead.
Cam took the P90 and zat he was given, strapping on the gear. “Use zats as much as possible,” O’Neill was saying. “One shot only. These people are under the influence of Adria’s mojo, they’re not the enemy.”
Next, Cam was given a hand-sized white box with a screen on it. One of the Atlantis lifesign detectors, he guessed; he’d read about them but never seen one. “The compound Adria is most likely in isn’t shielded from our scans,” Sam said. “We’re downloading a map to your detector now. We’re going to beam down into the center, which should have fewer people, and then we’ll send groups down different hallways.” Sam started to list off the team assignments, breaking everyone up into teams of two or three. Cam was going down with Teal’c and Vala, which was fine by him.
“Everyone ready?” O’Neill said, and there were staggered nods as people finished putting on their tac vests and prepping their zats. “Beaming down in ten. Nine.”
Cam flexed his fingers on the grip of his zat and positioned the detector, holding it like a flashlight above the weapon. The group was a bright yellow-white spot in the middle of an otherwise blank screen. Suddenly, the ship shook, and there was a crackle as the ship-wide communication system hiccupped into life. “General O’Neill, sir, we have incoming.”
“You guys can handle the Hammond,” O’Neill said, shifting from one foot to the other.
“It’s not the Hammond,” Davidson’s voice said. “It’s a fleet. Two ha’tak, a dozen al’kesh, half a dozen tel’tak.”
“Lucian Alliance,” Cam breathed, and he could see the same thought had dawned on O’Neill.
“Mitchell, get to the bridge,” O’Neill said, and Cam sighed. “They might need people in F-302s.”
“Son of a-” Cam muttered under his breath, handing off his P90 and lifesign detector to the Marine who stepped up to take his place. He’d been this close to going down with SG-1. He hurried to the bridge. This close.
*
Daniel watched Cam leave, and then turned back, catching Jack’s eyes. He could tell the other man was worried, but he hid it quickly. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Jack said, and a few people smiled wanly. “Countdown from five. Four.”
Daniel stared at the yellow-white lights on his lifesign detector. Sam had tried to rig up a sensor to detect people who had been affected by Adria’s brainwashing, but beyond the elevated neurotransmitter levels, there were no physiological differences. It was worrying, actually. What if they lost more people to Adria before they were able to take her down?
Daniel must have missed Jack finishing the countdown, because suddenly there was the ice water down the back feeling of beaming and he was looking at cinderblock walls over the curve of Sam’s shoulder. Daniel glanced down at his detector, which was now showing a bright circle in the center of a network of rooms and hallways.
“Not exactly what I’d expect from a yoga retreat,” he said to Sam, in an undertone.
“We’re a story or two underground,” she replied. “There’s a temple-looking thing above us.”
“Cultural appropriation,” Daniel said, lip curling in disgust. Sam shook her head at him, but he could see a hint of a smile around her mouth, and he turned his attention back to Jack.
“Reynolds, take the northwest branch,” he was saying. “Kay, west. Teal’c, south. We’ll take east. It doesn’t seem like we’ve been detected yet. Let’s keep it that way. Radio silence unless you run into a major problem…or you find her.”
Jack rolled his shoulders and adjusted the brim of his baseball cap. “Happy hunting.”
continued in Twenty-Eight
back to Master Post
Twenty-Seven
Jack was expecting a welcome wagon when the Odyssey and the rest of their little fleet moved into orbit. And, right on schedule, Major Andrews reported from navigation, “There’s a squadron of F-302s approaching, sir. Shall I change course?
“No, we should be fine for right now,” Jack said. “Wait for them to contact us.”
At his words, the radio crackled into life. The fighter pilot’s gulp was audible over the radio transmission, and Jack couldn’t help his grin. “Un-unidentified craft…crafts,” came over the radio. “You are violating Earth airspace. Please identify yourselves and prepare for immediate landing.”
Jack pressed a button on the arm of the captain’s chair. “Stand down, airman,” he said. “We’re just coming home for a visit.”
“Identify yourselves and prepare to land!”
“We’ll be over the target in ten minutes,” Carter said from navigation. The F-302s were still approaching the Odyssey.
“Davidson, you have the bridge,” Jack said, standing up. “Keep them busy, but do not fire under any circumstances.”
“Yes, sir.” Davidson smirked. “Not like they could do much to us, anyway.”
“True, but we don’t want them firing nukes at us, do we?” Jack said. He clicked another button to connect him to ship-wide communications. “Strike team members, meet in hanger one for transport in five.”
“Unidentified ship, if you do not land immediately, we will fire,” the pilot was saying.
Jack hesitated on his way off the bridge. “We’ve got it, sir,” Davidson said. The lead fighter fired on the Odyssey, and even though the ship didn’t even move, Jack winced. “Really, sir, we’re fine. You just go take that bitch out.”
Jack took one last look at the squadron of fighters bearing down on the Odyssey and left the bridge.
*
When Cam had said he’d wanted to get the band back together, he’d never imagined that he’d go into a combat situation-one that the fate of the world rested on-with Jack O’Neill and SG-1 in the lead and SG-3 at his back. He’d mostly gotten over the hero worship, but gearing up with these men and women was still a dream come true. Completely inappropriate time for awe, but at least he wasn’t wetting his drawers like a schoolboy instead.
Cam took the P90 and zat he was given, strapping on the gear. “Use zats as much as possible,” O’Neill was saying. “One shot only. These people are under the influence of Adria’s mojo, they’re not the enemy.”
Next, Cam was given a hand-sized white box with a screen on it. One of the Atlantis lifesign detectors, he guessed; he’d read about them but never seen one. “The compound Adria is most likely in isn’t shielded from our scans,” Sam said. “We’re downloading a map to your detector now. We’re going to beam down into the center, which should have fewer people, and then we’ll send groups down different hallways.” Sam started to list off the team assignments, breaking everyone up into teams of two or three. Cam was going down with Teal’c and Vala, which was fine by him.
“Everyone ready?” O’Neill said, and there were staggered nods as people finished putting on their tac vests and prepping their zats. “Beaming down in ten. Nine.”
Cam flexed his fingers on the grip of his zat and positioned the detector, holding it like a flashlight above the weapon. The group was a bright yellow-white spot in the middle of an otherwise blank screen. Suddenly, the ship shook, and there was a crackle as the ship-wide communication system hiccupped into life. “General O’Neill, sir, we have incoming.”
“You guys can handle the Hammond,” O’Neill said, shifting from one foot to the other.
“It’s not the Hammond,” Davidson’s voice said. “It’s a fleet. Two ha’tak, a dozen al’kesh, half a dozen tel’tak.”
“Lucian Alliance,” Cam breathed, and he could see the same thought had dawned on O’Neill.
“Mitchell, get to the bridge,” O’Neill said, and Cam sighed. “They might need people in F-302s.”
“Son of a-” Cam muttered under his breath, handing off his P90 and lifesign detector to the Marine who stepped up to take his place. He’d been this close to going down with SG-1. He hurried to the bridge. This close.
*
Daniel watched Cam leave, and then turned back, catching Jack’s eyes. He could tell the other man was worried, but he hid it quickly. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Jack said, and a few people smiled wanly. “Countdown from five. Four.”
Daniel stared at the yellow-white lights on his lifesign detector. Sam had tried to rig up a sensor to detect people who had been affected by Adria’s brainwashing, but beyond the elevated neurotransmitter levels, there were no physiological differences. It was worrying, actually. What if they lost more people to Adria before they were able to take her down?
Daniel must have missed Jack finishing the countdown, because suddenly there was the ice water down the back feeling of beaming and he was looking at cinderblock walls over the curve of Sam’s shoulder. Daniel glanced down at his detector, which was now showing a bright circle in the center of a network of rooms and hallways.
“Not exactly what I’d expect from a yoga retreat,” he said to Sam, in an undertone.
“We’re a story or two underground,” she replied. “There’s a temple-looking thing above us.”
“Cultural appropriation,” Daniel said, lip curling in disgust. Sam shook her head at him, but he could see a hint of a smile around her mouth, and he turned his attention back to Jack.
“Reynolds, take the northwest branch,” he was saying. “Kay, west. Teal’c, south. We’ll take east. It doesn’t seem like we’ve been detected yet. Let’s keep it that way. Radio silence unless you run into a major problem…or you find her.”
Jack rolled his shoulders and adjusted the brim of his baseball cap. “Happy hunting.”
continued in Twenty-Eight
back to Master Post