Alright...Alright So I'm writing out a battle but I thought I'd toss out a chapter dump to hold y'all over.
Back in the halls and alleys of our nations Capitol Secretary of State Elizabeth Weir begins the process of reforging old alliances and making new ones.
And on Hurot, Stargate Command prepares to drop yet another atomic device on the head of a snake.
@Knowledgeispower @bullethead shall be pleased! Pure carnage is coming up.
@Bear Ribs and
@Navarro Too if they're still reading it. Holiday appropriate fireworks be coming.
Also Yahata hypes up his death commandos.
All due to credit to these phenomenal artists whose work I could never hope to duplicate.
…………..
Washington D.C: September 14th
It didn’t take a genius to figure out something was happening within the US, something massive. It didn’t take extensive contacts within IASA and family members on the boards of tech companies that had once been failing but were now surging passed the established firms to know that something
other worldly was at the center of it all. The US economy had been growing dramatically since 2017, several prominent tech firms had either been crashed or replaced by new ones selling computers that operated at speeds that were impossible merely a year before that. Compression algorithms and memory, processing power, all these things coming out of small mom and pop firms and then Mitsubishi and Ford releasing cars made of new lightweight metal and far more fuel efficient in 2018. The growth had been, dramatic but it had spread out over half a decade at least which was fairly consistent with past tech booms. China was being muscled out of the computing game which was ideal for Japan and Korea but there had been so much internal strife within the US about the fact that much manufacturing and tech production was returning home that he was concerned there wouldn’t be some kind of cataclysmic shape up in the global economy.
Then a month ago a new Caribbean bank bought up six trillion in US national debt and began offering retirement accounts backed in gold and platinum and crypto that was luring the baby boomers, the last generation of Americans with sizable liquid assets into shifting away from traditional retirement firms and investment hedges. Then the Bank known as the Woodes and Nasau Mercantile Bank and Trust (Because someone had a perverse sense of humor.) sent the world markets into a free fall when it forgave
half that debt. That was a deliberate salvo, an act of economic warfare against the old order so brazen that he found himself shocked that the MUFG was in bed with it behind the scenes. Some of the more hostile nations that profited by US debt certainly could have seen it as an act of war. But the question on everyone’s mind was where the hell the money was coming from.
He had an idea; it was a mad idea but when Ambassador Hiroki Matsukata saw that the archaeologist Daniel Jackson was on the board, the absurd became certitude.
Project Giza wasn’t just a success as his government's intelligence agencies and his personal spies insisted despite the impossible, but it was replaced by something more successful still.
There had always been rumors, his great Grandfather ranted about how the Americans unlocked nuclear power before the Empire had because of alien technology (Ignoring that Showa had proscribed the research and development of nuclear power. because his heavenly highness was at heart an environmentalist. And like so many after him, misunderstood the virtue and value nuclear power.) . His grandfather was a firm believer in the Roswell crash conspiracy theories and the rise to prominence of the designated joke of the US armed forces, the space force and its multiple service branches that weren’t branches and the NID all confirmed it. Or at least, that’s what the thirty-one-year old’s father and grandfather insisted. His wife believed it was all just luck, but no country could be so lucky. Also where the hell did all that wealth come from and whoever was wielding it needed to be extremely careful because they could devalue every currency everywhere.
They can’t be shipping in wealth from other worlds! The Americans can’t be that reckless…
The fact that none of their traditional allies had been brought in on this, only those countries who had been bored enough to involve themselves in IASA (Minus England anyway.) was mind bending, this was all leading to a disturbing implication.
There was a mission to absolutely flip the world order on its head, as quickly and as decisively as possible and there was a frightening amount of desperation in it all.
Why?
Not that Japan wouldn’t benefit immensely, presuming the nations and megacorps about to get phased out of the limelight if not existence didn’t start a world war to keep themselves around. Already several Zaibatsu’s that had been floundering were experiencing breakthroughs in medical and tech research and had been since the 2015 “incident.” But in the last two months they’d been more than just lucky. Things were being laid in place in Tokyo, Deli and in the Silicon Hills that gave him hope, but it was a hope mixed with manic concern. Too much change too radically could cause disaster. On the other hand, if this was just an opening salvo and things cooled for a time, if their allies played it right.
He exhaled, tossing the mini cigar he’d been smoking out the window as his car pulled up to the entrance of the Hay-Adams, a hotel that would only serve as a clandestine meeting location in a cheesy thriller or some tacky “realpolitik” TV-show. Beside him, his body guard a descendent of some Shinsengumi commander or other (they all claimed to be now a days.) Had a look of distrust and consternation as they made their way towards a more personal and hidden lounge where Secretary Elizabeth Weir who sat sipping what he expected was cold tea instead of warm bourbon. She was almost seventeen years his senior, but he admired her looks, few men could avoid becoming withered when they led a life was unusual as Weir’s or had as many children once they exceeded age forty, much less remained as healthy as she did.
As someone whose hair already possessed gray streaks, Hiroki envied the woman,
damn her.
She bowed, addressing him as Genro, he wanted to correct her. That had been his great-great Grandfather Prince Masayoshi and that the Genro honorific was not hereditary nor would it be seen with much favor now. But there was something implicative in her inflection that made him suppress a shudder instead. “
Kakka, I thank you for responding to my request. I’m aware the state department must keep you busy at present.” Weir bowed her head slightly; she was good at playing the part of someone who honored the old traditions when she needed something done. Not that the term was used often to describe foreign officials of stature, but Weir had certainly earned that respect as far as he was concerned.
“You mean because the President is about to fire half of it?” She asked with a wolfish grin. Hiroki hastily ordered a Buffalo Trace, handing out information like candy? Oh, this was going to be an interesting meeting. Yes, it would be rot gut tonight as the Americans called it. “That would be one of the reasons. Forgive me
Kakka but this game the President is playing is most..Perilous”
Silence as the waiter delivered his rot gut.
“
Kantai Kessen always was, but the rewards when it succeeded were innumerous weren’t they?” she asked him causing his bodyguard’s eyes to widen slightly. “An economic version isn’t going to be that much different.”
He almost spat out his bourbon. “In..” he cleared his throat “With all deference
Kakka the last time my country did that it broke our backs at midway and the time before that it caused a world war and the American version left you bleeding a generation of blood in the middle East.” They were insane, that had to be it.
Yes, the leaders of the United States had gone mad.
And then a report that was brought to his attention about aliens that possessed humans like demons smuggled out of an NID blacksite made him contemplate utter nonsense and filled him with fear.
“
Well, we don’t have a choice, much like the second world war, our nation was struck unawares by an enemy who thought he could plunder our soil without repercussion.” Weir responded, but this time she spoke the words in a dialect of Japanese so old that the only reason he knew it at all was due to his upbringing. It took him a second to realize what she meant and his mind wandered back to the report.
No.
She seemed to sense his thinking and leaned back in her chair, hands steepled in her lap. She gave the barest of nods.
No
His chest tightened. She nodded again, subtly.
No
“
What have you done…” he whispered.
She took a breath. He knew about project Giza, the Matsukata family was too well connected, too entrenched in the levers of global power and paradoxically capable of asymmetrical thinking that she was certain he knew. So, she spared him the summary that couldn’t be spoken of in such a place. “Colonel O’Neill was right, we didn’t listen, neither of our governments and so someone else came knocking on our door.”
No!
He swallowed. Trying to keep himself calm, they faced an alien menace, and these were the games being played? A dark thought came to his mind unbidden -How many of the barbarian nations that surround Japan would fight, how many would treat with these creatures? - why was he even thinking that. “H..how bad?”
She leaned in
“A year from now, an armada of nearly two thousand alien warships will enter our system, their goal will be to initiate a Pearl Harbor style assault on our entire species, then hold out until reinforcements can arrive to establish a Vichy regime.” It took her a few pauses between sentence fragments, as she tried to remember the correct words in this ancient dialect and each pause allowed him to focus on not having a stroke.
NO!
He wanted to jump up, rip his hair, tear off his clothes and run screaming out of the nearest door. “..What are you..doing to prepare for this..eventuality.” His mind screamed impossibility, but he knew no falsehood in her voice.
“
Exactly what we’ve been doing. The question, Matsukata-San; is will Japan help us shoulder this burden? Help us prepare our species, help us grow a better world from this looming conflagration.”
A military man can hardly pride himself for smiting a sleeping enemy, it is more a matter of shame for the one who was smitten while asleep. Filled with rage he shall muster a determined counterattack and how we respond will be the test of our power.
Had that been Admiral Yamamoto?
“The President firmly believes that our salvation lies in new alliances with old and new friends alike. Alliances that, he believes should benefit the citizens of those nations first above all others.” She spoke the words calmly, with a level of certitude that was inspiring enough that he imagined had she chosen the military path for service over the diplomats, she would have set in his soul a bonfire of patriotism. But the way she said it made him realize just how opportunistic and ruthless this new America could be.
“Naturally, our entire species will be defended…yes?” It was a risky question, one that probed. But when she retorted with “As much as can be defended.” He understood at once that they
Needed help even if they could shoulder the momentary burden alone. Opportunity, they said knocked but once per lifetime, but he knew it knocked all the time only most were too afraid to answer the door for with opportunity often came calamity.
He sighed. “I will need to speak to my government, but…I believe I can convince them of the merits of further discussions and partnerships.” When she nodded in gratitude he hastily added. “But there must be..some concessions. None too larger of course but.”
“When we speak again Hiroki-san.”
It was a dismissal, from anyone else he would have taken it as an insult, but he left and thanked the stars that he didn’t start trembling until he got into the car.
Everything was going to change.
Everything
had changed.
………………
Hurot- Asgard protect planet’s zone.
Samantha Carter probably looked like a kid at a toy store on her birthday. Bouncing on one of the vehicles they used to transport their ammo and other supplies. Her straw blonde hair finally looking like something other than a mess as it bounced along with her body. She’d forgotten they packed conditioner until the resident O’Neill twin reminded her and the public baths weren’t that bad. She’d also taken up training in the palace guards’ personal gym with several of the shield women who fought along side Ecthor. Apparently, they were surprised that she was a “Skald” because she was beautiful and physically fit. Carter wasn’t often praised for her looks, mostly because she had one of the biggest brains in the galaxy, but she did model a little as a teenager (Mostly because she tried to find different ways to cope with her depression, until she realized trying to cope with was stupid and she set herself to unfucking her mind.) and one of the things she stressed to Sasha O’Neill and the one thing her grandfather Jacob stressed to her all the time?
A healthy body begets a healthy mind. He was of course, absolutely right, her own despair over her parent’s deaths, the memories of the smell of human flesh, her own inner demons never quite left her but when she was in front of a punching bag or swimming or doing calculations, they weren’t as loud as they were without. She was also reasonably certain she became an adrenaline junky at some point between kindergarten and when she built her first glider at eight and managed to sail the airs for four acres before crashing into a tree line and being bitten several times by an irate rattlesnake.
That had been fun, the venom induced visions had been interesting though. She spoke a little Aejir (Learning by listening to Sandra and Daniel converse between Space Egyptian as the Colonel called it and Aejir) and she spoke Gaelic because she was dared to learn the language once. And amusingly Syggy the Captain of the guards for the redlight district, this twenty-year-old red headed Amazon who managed to cut a Scarrans heart out in battle with a Trinium tipped knife was from a world that seemed to have humans taken from ancient Ireland and England and dumped there. So, she was able to figure out what the girl was saying in Gaelic and since she spoke Imperial standard the two had hit it off.
They were similar, Syggy was a child prodigy with a sword and string instruments whereas Carter was a natural pilot and engineer. Both prized sharp minds and sharper bodies as a method of maintaining mental discipline and both shared a love of making things explode and both were orphans. The slight blotches of burns on Carter’s thigh and her calf had fascinated Syggy who had similar wounds on her forearm from the fight with the Scarran. When she told Syggy
how she got those scars, the woman reacted with a mix of respect and amusement. That was different, she’d been the youngest person in space, doing a test flight on a modernized version of the legendary Farscape-1 module that Astronaut John Crichton had disappeared in twenty-one years ago. One designed to take off from a conventional runway and make it into space then do a few aerial moves before reentering orbit.
The mission was a success.
But also, the cockpit caught fire during one of the barrel roles she did in space and Carter had managed to put the fire and then safely bring her down even taking time to park her neatly between her two sisters Farscape-3 and 4. She’d been thirteen, so naturally everyone felt pity that a kid was put in that situation at all. Well at least the ones who had the security clearance to know about what happened.
Idiots, she was thirteen and
chosen to do the first combat maneuvers in space specifically because she had helped her grandfather perfect John Crichton’s design, because she was the only one with the reflexes fast enough to do it and because General West was a ruthless bastard and Admiral Ellis had faith in her skills. She didn’t need pity, no other earthborn human save maaaybbbe Crichton himself could have pulled off the entire experiment. Much less stopped a damn fire and brought the vessel down without the AI support that the 302’s would have. She didn’t need pity.
O’Neill and Daniel had reacted with respect, as had Teal’c who praised her for it, that was why she would always be an SG-1 member first and an area 51 mad scientist second. Outside of the Admirals only Syggy had reacted similarly. That made them instant friends, despite one being a warrior and a female Knight and the other being a mad scientist. Prince Rynulf had come with a detachment of twenty armed warriors along with Ecthor and Rynulf’s father Aerwulf (Which sounded more Saxon than Norse and Daniel agreed.) who Carter had learned was the next in line for the throne when old King Hethrir the avaricious died. They had all wanted to see what the mighty soldiers of Tau’Ri were bringing to contest the arms of the Lizard men now.
And so, when the gate opened and out came four members of Evan Lourne’s security team and then three carts containing four-foot missiles and one twelve-footer Carter grinned malevolently.
A Naquadah enhanced vacuum bomb, a prototype, the first of its kind. Weighing only five hundred pounds and made from polymers developed in the nineteen nineties by project Constellation at the Groom Lake facility that
still hadn’t released to the general public and tipped with a drill like missile head that was made from the alloy that was being used as armor for the vessels in Constellation’s fleet. Landry had taken her recommendations regarding the vacuum bomb she used against Horus and dialed it up to eleven the devious bastard. -This is going to turn that cave complex into hell- she thought. There were two more compact combat drones, though these had a different weapon system on them, not the crude rail guns that were deployed against the Scarrans and it took her a second to realize they were
lasers.
“So, we’ll be field testing energy weapons?” Carter asked.
“Naquadah in the power source, meaning that these drones can sustain aerial combat for forty minutes and about three days before needing a recharge in the air and with the solar panels on the wings.” One of the men answered her.
Right, in theory, forever. O’Neill was making a joke about how they were going up against lizardmen with ray guns of their own but Carter didn’t like it. She didn’t appreciate the rail gun tests either, in the sense that she didn’t want her Colonel and her second favorite Admiral getting shot up by monsters because experimental tech that was a scaled down version of an abandoned system that was made for the 302’s didn’t work or blew up the drones. The third cart contained the command-and-control system for what was coming next.
The warriors of Hurot gasped as a long jet-black bird like machine with wings folded exited the Stargate, towed by a vehicle driven by a base technician who looked like he wanted to turn right around and leave.
The
Raptor.
Built on a predator drone’s template she had a sixty foot wingspan instead of the usual forty nine and fueled by a miniature Naquadah generator that could allow it to run for weeks if just doing surveillance work and sixteen hours if in combat (and able to recharge itself with two backup batteries that were themselves slowly recharged by the main powerplant.), a stealth frame designed to block out most forms of sensor tech that Earth knew about (and if the Constellation’s AI wasn’t lying, some sensor tech that it didn’t know about.), she was sleek, armed with one forward mounted energy weapon that looked like it was taken from two Jaffa staff weapons and two of the mini railguns.
This would be their bomber.
The damn lizards wouldn’t know what would hit them.
In the cart beside her Slys was speaking energetically with the Admiral through Daniel. Apparently, the spaceship engineer was impressed, and Carter beamed. When the Admiral told him just who had designed this thing, he hurriedly ran over and shook her hand, nearly rattling her off the cart in his zeal which caused the Wyryn guard to laugh. When it became clear Slys was much a victim as they were, their hostility towards him all but evaporated. They were an interesting people, the cruelty visited on the Scarrans was treachery defined and they could turn that cruelty off and act friendly with an alien the next moment. Evidently, they considered killing Skalds who couldn’t fight back to be the height of dishonor and counterproductive to the objects of any war and so they viewed his debasement and humiliation at the hands of the Scarrans to be a form of dishonorable conduct so profane that Slys would have been offered a place of honor amongst Hethrir’s house had he not so keenly expressed an interest in sticking with the Tau’Ri.
He babbled, guessing aspects of the design she couldn’t confirm or deny but were so close to the mark Carter felt a grudging respect for the foreman. -We should press gang him and send him home to his family after he helps us build up our fleet- she thought and then felt an immediate a swell of guilt over the thought. She’d felt more conflicted of late about her humanity first approach to the stars, but not enough to go soft. All the aliens out here even the human ones had a duty to protect their planets, species and societies, she could be no different.
Arming, loading and calibrating the Raptor would take time and as the technician and the men assigned to the Abydos base departed, Sam Carter sat there wondering if Slys was right about them lacking artillery and any defenses rated for what passed for modern armies on her world.
She hoped so, she didn’t like the idea of SG teams taking losses. She certainly didn’t want a repeat of Avalon where a bunch of aliens out on a recreational hunt slash meeting put more Army Rangers into the ground in five minutes than have died since the wars in the middle East calmed down.