That's disturbing. The urge to kill everything in nuclear fire grows stronger with every appearance of the Xenomorphs and the traitor humans who've joined them. From my viewpoint it's just Demonic Possession/Seduction/Corruption or Invasion of the Body Snatchers at play.
Crossover Move, Countermove (Stargate SG-1/Alien(s) AU)
- Thread starter bullethead
- Start date
Currentpresent 5
Currentpresent 5
Stargate Command,
Cheyenne Mountain
September 1997
“So, Carter, is there any reason pastfuture you didn’t just give us whatever the new 2020 service rifle was?”
After the stress of briefing the Joint Chiefs and the President of the United States, Captain Samantha Carter had to admit that sitting around the briefing room table with a cup of coffee in hand with the rest of SG-1 felt... surprisingly comfortable. Maybe it was the fact that Colonel Jack O’Neill was a veteran special operator that preferred a more informal command style, which encouraged a tight knit bond amongst the team. It could be that compared to Daniel’s apparent nightmare of an experience with the CIA – which explained why her father kept encouraging her to avoid working with them – her own stressful experience seemed insignificant in comparison.
She was annoyed that she hadn’t been able to get any hands on time with that Goa’uld ship, even if Teal’c called it utterly obsolete, but that was a minor thing she could probably get corrected.
“Two reasons, sir,” she replied. “First, she was prioritizing things that were fast and easily accomplished with our current technology, or absolutely necessary to the defense of the planet. Designing whole new weapon and ammunition designs take time, money, and other resources that could be used in other areas for more immediate gains. Second, because of the multiple time travel events, there was no guarantee that our doctrine would work out like it did in the pastfuture, so the actual designs from the future might not even meet our use requirements.”
O’Neill thought about that for a few seconds, then asked, “So, are we talking M14s in Vietnam…?”
“That’s actually a good parallel,” Carter admitted. “The pastfuture US military adopted a polymer cased telescoped 6.5mm round due to the US Army’s experiences in wars that probably won’t happen in this version of history. So what happens in our history could lead us to design an entirely different round, for an entirely different purpose, for an entirely different weapon, but using the same technology.”
The colonel took a long sip of coffee, lost in thought.
“I find the openly chaotic nature of Tau’ri weapon development to be quite intriguing,” Teal’c reentered the conversation, taking a sip of his own coffee. “The Goa’uld would never allow the Jaffa to know the reasoning that produced their arms.”
“That’s one of the benefits of living in a free and open society,” Daniel said absently, checking something in the folder he’d brought to the briefing. “By sharing information on how things were accomplished, we allow people to duplicate the results of our processes, and figure out how to improve those processes.” He looked up and gave the Jaffa a wry grin. “Of course, that assumes the people in charge want to do things better.”
“And let me tell you, Teal’c, there’s way too many Goa’uld thinkers in government and business already,” the colonel added with somber shake of his head.
The arrival of Walter Harriman, handing out briefing folders, ended the conversation before General Hammond made his entrance.
Waving off the team’s attempt to stand, he sat down at the head of the table, placing his own copy of the briefing in front of him. “We have a lot to go through, so we might as well get started. First off, there’s still no set mission schedule for the foreseeable future, since our analysts are busy trying to combine the latest information we’ve gotten from the Asgard with the other information you recently obtained.”
“That sounds pretty ominous, sir,” O’Neill commented.
“It gets better,” Hammond replied, opening the briefing folder. Carter and the rest of SG-1 followed suit. “The Asgard gave us a strategic overview of the galactic political situation, including information compartmentalized from even the First Primes of most Goa’uld.” Teal’c said nothing, reading the pages of the briefing intently. “Apparently, a Goa’uld named Sokar has been planning an invasion of the galaxy for centuries, building up his industry in an isolated corner of the galaxy. He has one heavily industrialized planet, his capital world of Delmak, and five nearby worlds industrialized to a mid-1800s level. Our analysts call them the Pentagram Worlds.”
Flipping from one page, which had Sokar’s emblem – a pentagon with blades sticking out of the corners – to another, Carter saw the star chart in question. Someone had helpfully labelled the planets, then drawn dotted lines between them – lines that indeed form a pentagram, one with Delmak at the center. She stared at it in disbelief.
“Sokar is a Goa'uld of ancient times. He once was ruler of the System Lords, but was defeated by an alliance of Goa'uld many centuries ago. Apophis and Ra were among his conquerors,” Teal’c ground out. Looking up, the captain found the stoic Jaffa warrior’s face to be positively grim. “If he has developed his domain as the Asgard claim, it is likely that he can conquer the rest of the Goa’uld.”
O’Neill glanced at Teal’c, then Daniel. “So, what’s this guy’s MO?”
“His name's also very old in Earth mythology. He was the most feared deity in ancient Egypt, the original God of Death,” Daniel said with a grimace. “According to the book of the dead, there was a time he ruled all of Earth. His lands around Memphis were covered by darkness and inhabited by what were described as 'serpents.'"
“Likely Unas, the first hosts of the Goa’uld,” Teal’c interjected.
“Well, that makes sense. I mean, if the Unas were the first ones, then there had to be a time when both forms of Goa'uld hosts co-existed.” Again, Daniel grimaced. “His portion of Tuat, or the otherworld, was filled with lakes of fire, where the wicked were thrown into as punishment after torture and mutilation. He was basically the original Satan.”
The colonel looked back at the image of the Pentagram Worlds, then said, “Well, at least he’s committed to the bit.”
“The Asgard tipped Ra off to Sokar’s survival centuries ago, leading to a gradual Goa’uld military buildup. Based on their signal intercepts, the Asgard say that Sokar believes he has an 8:1 advantage over the rest of the Goa’uld in ships,” Hammond continued. “However, there are a number of secret shipyards in Goa’uld territory that are pumping out ships as fast as possible, so that number is actually closer to 6:1.” He gave O’Neill and Daniel a wry look. “It turns out that the Goa’uld in the know thought Ra’s death was Sokar’s opening move, so they’ve been pulling out the stops in their military preparations, and didn’t find out any better until after Apophis attacked Abydos.”
A contemplative look crossed Teal’c’s face. “If this is true, the upcoming war amongst the Goa’uld would be catastrophic in scale. Even Sokar would suffer greatly if he prevailed.” He paused and grimaced. “Tales of Sokar’s brutality are still shared amongst Jaffa, and are comparable to the atrocities committed by Anubis. If those tales are in any way accurate, then Sokar’s victory would result in unimaginable suffering throughout the galaxy.”
“Which is why the Pentagon is trying to figure out how to best leverage our newfound knowledge,” Hammond replied, turning to Daniel. “From what I understand, Dr. Jackson, you have some information that might help in that regard.”
Pushing up his glasses, Daniel took center stage of the briefing. “After Jack, Teal’c, and I returned from Area 51, I started digging through the old files the Pentagon sent us, to find whatever it was Thor was hinting at. I think I found it.” He pulled out several sheets and passed them around. Each one was a collage of old camera footage that had been visually processed and enhanced, showing a gate address that was similar to, but distinct from the Abydos gate address. “In 1945, an American went through the Stargate to an address we didn’t get from Abydos. Now, we know this post-dates the changes to the timeline, but this address is close enough to the one on the gate’s cover stone cartouche that it’s likely that this same event happened in the pastfuture.”
Daniel took a breath before continuing. “So the fact that this event was allowed to happen, the Asgard told us how to find it, and that Asgard didn’t send him back tells us that they likely want us to go there for some reason.”
Everyone else looked at each other, uncertain what to make of this.
“Now, I’m completely willing to send SG-1 on a mission to retrieve this man,” Hammond began, “but is there any way for us to get more information on this…”
“Totally bonkers situation?” O’Neill offered.
“Exactly,” the general confirmed.
“Well, sir, I managed to talk Daniel into not jumping the gun and going over to Catherine Langford right away because we heard that the new dialing computer has a fancy database of all the planets the pastfuture SGC has visited,” O’Neill replied. “Daniel and I didn’t feel comfortable hassling Walter to teach us how to use it, but since Carter is here…”
Normally, she’d be annoyed by this kind of thing, but since she was curious about the new system, she let it slide.
Everyone moved from the briefing room to the control room, crowding behind her as she flipped open the bound manual that had been provided for the computer. She was grateful for the detailed, full color pictures, and step by step tutorials, which she read aloud for her own benefit, as well as the rest of SG-1, but as soon as she touched the mouse, she realized her mistake. She was using a computer from twenty-five years into the future, and as she moved the mouse quickly and easily through all the tasks, she realized that every other PC for at least a few years was going to feel terrible in comparison.
“It’s incredible how easy it is to use this,” she commented as she opened the “GateWiki” application. She had no idea what a “Wiki” was, but that was probably because of time travel related contextual issues. She clicked on the search bar at the top, like the instructions said, and a list of every symbol on the Earth gate appeared. “It even has an entirely mouse driven user interface for selecting gate addresses!”
“Look, there’s a dropdown menu option selector for… galaxies?” Looking over her shoulder, Daniel was drinking in as much as he could, and he tapped the screen where the menu option was. “It’s set to Milky Way… What’s the other option or options?”
Before she could click on it, Teal’c interjected. “Perhaps it would be advisable to not look at the symbols for other galaxies. That would be pastfuture knowledge that might benefit our enemies in some way.”
“Good point, Teal’c,” General Hammond said. “Let’s just focus on this specific address.”
With Daniel holding out the collage in front of her, Carter clicked the specific symbols, populating a list of gate addresses that got smaller and smaller as she progressed. “Here’s the planet – Heliopolis.” She looked at the manual, then right clicked and chose “Open in new tab.” A new page appeared, showing the gate address and a summary of the mission report, with links to the full report at the bottom of the page. “Incredible! I think this might actually be a locally hosted web site—“
“Carter…” Colonel O’Neill growled.
“Sorry sir.” She let Daniel read off the summary, silently skimming the page for any technical details. Once he finished telling the tale of their original mission, she turned to face the rest of the team. “Sir, I think I remember seeing that the pastfuture SGC provided us with a laptop program that can dial a gate. If we have that, and bring some heavy duty batteries, we could probably get in and out fast enough to avoid any real danger.”
“General, I can get Catherine Langford inside of two hours,” Daniel said quietly. “Since she went on the mission in the pastfuture…”
The bald Texan nodded decisively. “Dr. Jackson, Captain Carter, you know what to do. I want SG-1 ready to go as soon as she arrives. Dismissed.”
Enlisting Teal’c’s help, Carter first went to MALP storage, where the pair “requisitioned” two fully charged spare MALP batteries, loading them on a cart that they rolled over to another storage room. This one held various items from the pastfuture crate that were field usable – mostly an assortment of Goa’uld weaponry, but also a few odds and ends, like portable storage drives, CDs, various tools, spare computer hardware, and an unassembled 3D printer, still in the box. Flipping through the binder containing the room’s inventory, she found what she was looking for in a small box that contained a spindle of CD-ROMs and a number of small USB devices called “flash drives.”
She assumed they were some kind of data storage device, but with the time crunch, Carter preferred to work with the tried and true CD-ROM over something that Windows 95 might not even recognize.
Digging through the CDs, she found one labelled “Version 1.0, Windows 95/98”, and pulled it, before pausing to look at some of the other labels.
“Huh, they included the source code for this,” she remarked to Teal’c.
“That is significant?” the Jaffa asked.
“Well, yes, having the source code means you have the basic building blocks of a software program and can adjust it as you see fit,” she explained, trying to keep things simple, since she wasn’t sure how much computer knowledge Teal’c had picked up in his short time on Earth. “I’m just surprised that they still had it around after 25 years. Things like this are very easy to lose or misplace.”
“We should be grateful for the diligence and foresight of our pastfuture counterparts.” The corners of Teal’c’s mouth pulled up as he said that.
“Yes, we should,” Carter replied with vehemence. “Do you mind taking the batteries to the gate room? I need to grab a laptop and see if I can even install this on it.”
Teal’c nodded and began pushing the cart down the corridor.
By the time she obtained the computer, installed the program, and gave it a test run, Daniel had returned with Catherine Langford, the former civilian head of the Stargate program. After a quick round of hugs and introductions, the pair of women were off to the locker room.
“For something thrown together on the fly, the amount of resources the military threw at this is impressive,” Catherine commented as she found a set of BDUs in her size.
“Well, for the first few months, we were basically running on whatever was left over from when you and General West were running things,” Carter replied, shrugging into her load-bearing vest. “That said, being a special operations command allows us to bypass a lot of military bureaucracy and procure things through alternate channels. For example, we got these boots from Magnum Boots and our load-bearing vests from Blackhawk.”
“So, where’s the penny-pinching?” the older woman asked.
“Weapons, ammunition, uniforms, and the cafeteria,” was Carter’s deadpan reply.
Once they finished, the pair headed down to the control room, where Walter was already halfway through the dialing sequence. Down in the gate room, a MALP and FRED were ready and waiting, with the FRED carrying all the supplies they would need to escape the planet. Hammond shot them a look as they entered.
“Given what’s happened on the last two missions, we’re sending the MALP through first to make sure Dr. Littlefield is even on this ‘Heliopolis,’” the general explained.
Catherine looked at SG-1, who all wore various grimaces, aside from Teal’c. “What’s he talking about?”
O’Neill looked over at Hammond, who reluctantly nodded. “Time travel stuff,” he replied. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing the details. You’ll sleep better at night.”
Any further explanation was cut off by the kawoosh of the gate activating, and the MALP’s steady advance up the ramp and through the wormhole.
As soon as it exited the other gate, the video camera captured at least a dozen humans in metallic silver jumpsuits standing inside a gate room of hewn stone, along with various bits of equipment. Some were recognizable, like lights and carts, while the purpose of others were not so obvious, at least given the low resolution of the camera. There was an awkward pause on both sides of the camera, then General Hammond leaned over the microphone.
“This is General George S. Hammond of Earth. We are looking for an individual named Ernest Littlefield who arrived on the planet you are on. If you have any information regarding his whereabouts, simply speak to our probe – it transmits audiovisual signals in real time.”
One of the silver wearing humans, a thin man with Caucasian features and black hair, approached the MALP. “I am Narim, deputy director of this expedition.” He paused, looking over the MALP. “The Asgard told us to expect you. Dr. Littlefield is currently busy, but I can relay any message you have to him.”
Hammond mulled that over, then asked, “Is Dr. Littlefield on that planet?”
“He is.”
“I have a team of representatives with me, including someone who knows Dr. Littlefield personally,” Hammond continued. “With your permission, I’d like to send them through the Stargate to speak with him and any representatives of your government, if available.”
“That is quite acceptable,” Narim assured him.
“Thank you. The team will be coming through shortly.” Hammond muted the microphone, then turned to SG-1. They did their best to ignore the exasperation on the general’s face as he gave out his orders. “Colonel, I want you to determine the status of Dr. Littlefield and figure out what the hell is going on here. Give me a preliminary report in two hours, and let me know if I have to make another call to the president.”
“Yes sir!” O’Neill replied, snapping off a salute before leading the team down to the gate room and through the gate. He quickly handled introducing the team to Narim, then asked, “Alright, can we see Dr. Littlefield?”
“Of course,” Narim replied, seemingly unbothered by O’Neill’s brusque manner. “This way.”
“Aren’t you concerned that the structure might collapse?” Carter asked as they exited the Heliopolis gate room and began making their way through the stone castle.
A brief look of confusion crossed Narim’s face, which was quickly replaced by comprehension. “The Asgard teleported this fortress from its original foundations on the coast, to a geologically stable position far in land. There has been some structural damage, which we are repairing, but there is no overall danger here.”
“They beamed the entire building?” O’Neill asked, channeling the disbelief of all of SG-1 – including Teal’c, who had merely raised an eyebrow at the statement.
“The Asgard are quite advanced,” was Narim’s understated response.
“You’ve mentioned the Asgard, but nothing about your people,” Daniel observed. “We’ve also met the Asgard, Thor specifically. We’d like to open diplomatic relations with any peaceful civilization, especially if they are opposed to the Goa’uld.”
“My people are the Tollan,” Narim replied as he led them down a corner. “The Asgard first contacted us about a century ago, if I understand the calendar conversion between our planets correctly. Eventually, after formal relations were established, they informed us about the time travel events that had occurred, as well as events that had not yet occurred.” He gave them a significant look. “In the process, information you acquired allowed us to avoid the destruction of our planet.”
“Look, I’m not afraid to take credit for our pastfuture counterparts’ accomplishments,” Colonel O’Neill said, pointing at Narim, “but you can’t hold it against currentpresent us if we’re nowhere near as cool as they were.” He paused, then added, “That’s more of a general ‘you’, not you specifically.”
“Pastfuture?” Catherine asked, perhaps a second or so before Narim could.
“It is our terminology for the previous iteration of the timeline that directly created the current one,” Teal’c explained, saving Daniel and Carter from that responsibility.
“I see, and understand the logic,” Narim replied. “As well as your concerns about your perception.” They paused before a set of stairs that led down to a room where scientists stood around a large pedestal topped by a red, glowing dome. “Dr. Littlefield is down in the library chamber.”
“Daniel, you and Catherine go on ahead. We’ll catch up with you as soon as we clear some things up with Narim here,” O’Neill said. Daniel and Catherine looked at him, and after a reassuring smile, they started down the stairs. When they were halfway down, the Colonel turned to Narim and asked, “There’s not going to be any problems regarding Ernest, right? He can come back with us if he wants, that sort of thing?”
Narim blinked, then looked at O’Neill in confusion. “I’m not an archon – a legal scholar – but it is my understanding your people have a concept called dual citizenship? Dr. Littlefield was given Tollan citizenship decades ago, and is free to go with you at any time.” Narim smiled. “In fact, the Curia – our governing body – expects him to do so, as part of our diplomatic corps.”
“That’s… good to hear,” the colonel replied. “I didn’t mean to imply anything, you understand. It’s just that my boss expects me to call him and let him know if he needs to call his boss.” He shrugged in a “you know what I mean” way, then added, “You seem to know a lot of stuff…”
“I’m Dr. Littlefield’s deputy for this expedition,” the Tollan explained. “My government prepared me in case he stepped down and returned with you.”
“Ah,” O’Neill said. “So, when we say diplomacy, that means… what to you?”
“Obviously, a stable line of communications, and outreach efforts focusing on educating your people on advanced science necessary to safely operate and build technology to defend your planet.”
Carter’s head whipped toward her commanding officer. “Sir, this is exactly the kind of knowledge we need. There’s entire categories of technologies that our pastfuture counterparts provided us that we can’t even touch due to how dangerous they can be if misused.”
Teal’c shared a look with the colonel, saying, “I sense the hand of the Asgard in this. By making access to this knowledge dependent on good relations with the Tollan, it gives Stargate Command a potent weapon against any rogue elements amongst the Tau’ri.”
It didn’t surprise Carter that Teal’c could come up such an astute observation. As First Prime, he’d been in charge of Apophis’ armies, and that level of strategy required a hefty dose of analytical skill. It also helped that Teal’c was probably always on the lookout for ways to weaken the Goa’uld, in the name of Jaffa freedom.
And there was von Clausewitz’s maxim that “war is a continuation of politics by other means,” which was seeming like a universal truth at this rate.
“Good point, Teal’c,” Colonel O’Neill acknowledged, before turning his attention back to Narim. “I know Carter’s probably eager to geek out with Daniel at whatever’s in this library, so how about we continue this conversation down there,” he said, motioning towards the bottom of the stairs.
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at that, but it was true. Any library the Tollan were interested in studying had to be full of fascinating and possibly super-advanced information. What self-respecting scientist wouldn’t want to spend time with such a treasure trove of knowledge?
Author's Notes: This chapter is very "don't let it (existential dread) set in," because if you're wondering why Carter doesn't know about certain things, it's because they didn't exist at the time. That's right, Wikipedia post-dates the premiere of SG-1, as do flash drives.
Also, big thanks to Spartan303 for passing on a video about the uniforms of SG-1. There's a lot going on with them, and I incorporated tidbits that made sense, but there's some bits that are just going to be "Stargate is an alt history." Like the cut of the BDU pants being different than the actual 1990s BDUs.
To be completely clear on the Tollan situtation - Sarita didn't blow up, and the planet Tollan is fine. Narim lucked out on existing in this version of the timeline, but other Tollan characters might not have been so lucky.
Stargate Command,
Cheyenne Mountain
September 1997
“So, Carter, is there any reason pastfuture you didn’t just give us whatever the new 2020 service rifle was?”
After the stress of briefing the Joint Chiefs and the President of the United States, Captain Samantha Carter had to admit that sitting around the briefing room table with a cup of coffee in hand with the rest of SG-1 felt... surprisingly comfortable. Maybe it was the fact that Colonel Jack O’Neill was a veteran special operator that preferred a more informal command style, which encouraged a tight knit bond amongst the team. It could be that compared to Daniel’s apparent nightmare of an experience with the CIA – which explained why her father kept encouraging her to avoid working with them – her own stressful experience seemed insignificant in comparison.
She was annoyed that she hadn’t been able to get any hands on time with that Goa’uld ship, even if Teal’c called it utterly obsolete, but that was a minor thing she could probably get corrected.
“Two reasons, sir,” she replied. “First, she was prioritizing things that were fast and easily accomplished with our current technology, or absolutely necessary to the defense of the planet. Designing whole new weapon and ammunition designs take time, money, and other resources that could be used in other areas for more immediate gains. Second, because of the multiple time travel events, there was no guarantee that our doctrine would work out like it did in the pastfuture, so the actual designs from the future might not even meet our use requirements.”
O’Neill thought about that for a few seconds, then asked, “So, are we talking M14s in Vietnam…?”
“That’s actually a good parallel,” Carter admitted. “The pastfuture US military adopted a polymer cased telescoped 6.5mm round due to the US Army’s experiences in wars that probably won’t happen in this version of history. So what happens in our history could lead us to design an entirely different round, for an entirely different purpose, for an entirely different weapon, but using the same technology.”
The colonel took a long sip of coffee, lost in thought.
“I find the openly chaotic nature of Tau’ri weapon development to be quite intriguing,” Teal’c reentered the conversation, taking a sip of his own coffee. “The Goa’uld would never allow the Jaffa to know the reasoning that produced their arms.”
“That’s one of the benefits of living in a free and open society,” Daniel said absently, checking something in the folder he’d brought to the briefing. “By sharing information on how things were accomplished, we allow people to duplicate the results of our processes, and figure out how to improve those processes.” He looked up and gave the Jaffa a wry grin. “Of course, that assumes the people in charge want to do things better.”
“And let me tell you, Teal’c, there’s way too many Goa’uld thinkers in government and business already,” the colonel added with somber shake of his head.
The arrival of Walter Harriman, handing out briefing folders, ended the conversation before General Hammond made his entrance.
Waving off the team’s attempt to stand, he sat down at the head of the table, placing his own copy of the briefing in front of him. “We have a lot to go through, so we might as well get started. First off, there’s still no set mission schedule for the foreseeable future, since our analysts are busy trying to combine the latest information we’ve gotten from the Asgard with the other information you recently obtained.”
“That sounds pretty ominous, sir,” O’Neill commented.
“It gets better,” Hammond replied, opening the briefing folder. Carter and the rest of SG-1 followed suit. “The Asgard gave us a strategic overview of the galactic political situation, including information compartmentalized from even the First Primes of most Goa’uld.” Teal’c said nothing, reading the pages of the briefing intently. “Apparently, a Goa’uld named Sokar has been planning an invasion of the galaxy for centuries, building up his industry in an isolated corner of the galaxy. He has one heavily industrialized planet, his capital world of Delmak, and five nearby worlds industrialized to a mid-1800s level. Our analysts call them the Pentagram Worlds.”
Flipping from one page, which had Sokar’s emblem – a pentagon with blades sticking out of the corners – to another, Carter saw the star chart in question. Someone had helpfully labelled the planets, then drawn dotted lines between them – lines that indeed form a pentagram, one with Delmak at the center. She stared at it in disbelief.
“Sokar is a Goa'uld of ancient times. He once was ruler of the System Lords, but was defeated by an alliance of Goa'uld many centuries ago. Apophis and Ra were among his conquerors,” Teal’c ground out. Looking up, the captain found the stoic Jaffa warrior’s face to be positively grim. “If he has developed his domain as the Asgard claim, it is likely that he can conquer the rest of the Goa’uld.”
O’Neill glanced at Teal’c, then Daniel. “So, what’s this guy’s MO?”
“His name's also very old in Earth mythology. He was the most feared deity in ancient Egypt, the original God of Death,” Daniel said with a grimace. “According to the book of the dead, there was a time he ruled all of Earth. His lands around Memphis were covered by darkness and inhabited by what were described as 'serpents.'"
“Likely Unas, the first hosts of the Goa’uld,” Teal’c interjected.
“Well, that makes sense. I mean, if the Unas were the first ones, then there had to be a time when both forms of Goa'uld hosts co-existed.” Again, Daniel grimaced. “His portion of Tuat, or the otherworld, was filled with lakes of fire, where the wicked were thrown into as punishment after torture and mutilation. He was basically the original Satan.”
The colonel looked back at the image of the Pentagram Worlds, then said, “Well, at least he’s committed to the bit.”
“The Asgard tipped Ra off to Sokar’s survival centuries ago, leading to a gradual Goa’uld military buildup. Based on their signal intercepts, the Asgard say that Sokar believes he has an 8:1 advantage over the rest of the Goa’uld in ships,” Hammond continued. “However, there are a number of secret shipyards in Goa’uld territory that are pumping out ships as fast as possible, so that number is actually closer to 6:1.” He gave O’Neill and Daniel a wry look. “It turns out that the Goa’uld in the know thought Ra’s death was Sokar’s opening move, so they’ve been pulling out the stops in their military preparations, and didn’t find out any better until after Apophis attacked Abydos.”
A contemplative look crossed Teal’c’s face. “If this is true, the upcoming war amongst the Goa’uld would be catastrophic in scale. Even Sokar would suffer greatly if he prevailed.” He paused and grimaced. “Tales of Sokar’s brutality are still shared amongst Jaffa, and are comparable to the atrocities committed by Anubis. If those tales are in any way accurate, then Sokar’s victory would result in unimaginable suffering throughout the galaxy.”
“Which is why the Pentagon is trying to figure out how to best leverage our newfound knowledge,” Hammond replied, turning to Daniel. “From what I understand, Dr. Jackson, you have some information that might help in that regard.”
Pushing up his glasses, Daniel took center stage of the briefing. “After Jack, Teal’c, and I returned from Area 51, I started digging through the old files the Pentagon sent us, to find whatever it was Thor was hinting at. I think I found it.” He pulled out several sheets and passed them around. Each one was a collage of old camera footage that had been visually processed and enhanced, showing a gate address that was similar to, but distinct from the Abydos gate address. “In 1945, an American went through the Stargate to an address we didn’t get from Abydos. Now, we know this post-dates the changes to the timeline, but this address is close enough to the one on the gate’s cover stone cartouche that it’s likely that this same event happened in the pastfuture.”
Daniel took a breath before continuing. “So the fact that this event was allowed to happen, the Asgard told us how to find it, and that Asgard didn’t send him back tells us that they likely want us to go there for some reason.”
Everyone else looked at each other, uncertain what to make of this.
“Now, I’m completely willing to send SG-1 on a mission to retrieve this man,” Hammond began, “but is there any way for us to get more information on this…”
“Totally bonkers situation?” O’Neill offered.
“Exactly,” the general confirmed.
“Well, sir, I managed to talk Daniel into not jumping the gun and going over to Catherine Langford right away because we heard that the new dialing computer has a fancy database of all the planets the pastfuture SGC has visited,” O’Neill replied. “Daniel and I didn’t feel comfortable hassling Walter to teach us how to use it, but since Carter is here…”
Normally, she’d be annoyed by this kind of thing, but since she was curious about the new system, she let it slide.
Everyone moved from the briefing room to the control room, crowding behind her as she flipped open the bound manual that had been provided for the computer. She was grateful for the detailed, full color pictures, and step by step tutorials, which she read aloud for her own benefit, as well as the rest of SG-1, but as soon as she touched the mouse, she realized her mistake. She was using a computer from twenty-five years into the future, and as she moved the mouse quickly and easily through all the tasks, she realized that every other PC for at least a few years was going to feel terrible in comparison.
“It’s incredible how easy it is to use this,” she commented as she opened the “GateWiki” application. She had no idea what a “Wiki” was, but that was probably because of time travel related contextual issues. She clicked on the search bar at the top, like the instructions said, and a list of every symbol on the Earth gate appeared. “It even has an entirely mouse driven user interface for selecting gate addresses!”
“Look, there’s a dropdown menu option selector for… galaxies?” Looking over her shoulder, Daniel was drinking in as much as he could, and he tapped the screen where the menu option was. “It’s set to Milky Way… What’s the other option or options?”
Before she could click on it, Teal’c interjected. “Perhaps it would be advisable to not look at the symbols for other galaxies. That would be pastfuture knowledge that might benefit our enemies in some way.”
“Good point, Teal’c,” General Hammond said. “Let’s just focus on this specific address.”
With Daniel holding out the collage in front of her, Carter clicked the specific symbols, populating a list of gate addresses that got smaller and smaller as she progressed. “Here’s the planet – Heliopolis.” She looked at the manual, then right clicked and chose “Open in new tab.” A new page appeared, showing the gate address and a summary of the mission report, with links to the full report at the bottom of the page. “Incredible! I think this might actually be a locally hosted web site—“
“Carter…” Colonel O’Neill growled.
“Sorry sir.” She let Daniel read off the summary, silently skimming the page for any technical details. Once he finished telling the tale of their original mission, she turned to face the rest of the team. “Sir, I think I remember seeing that the pastfuture SGC provided us with a laptop program that can dial a gate. If we have that, and bring some heavy duty batteries, we could probably get in and out fast enough to avoid any real danger.”
“General, I can get Catherine Langford inside of two hours,” Daniel said quietly. “Since she went on the mission in the pastfuture…”
The bald Texan nodded decisively. “Dr. Jackson, Captain Carter, you know what to do. I want SG-1 ready to go as soon as she arrives. Dismissed.”
Enlisting Teal’c’s help, Carter first went to MALP storage, where the pair “requisitioned” two fully charged spare MALP batteries, loading them on a cart that they rolled over to another storage room. This one held various items from the pastfuture crate that were field usable – mostly an assortment of Goa’uld weaponry, but also a few odds and ends, like portable storage drives, CDs, various tools, spare computer hardware, and an unassembled 3D printer, still in the box. Flipping through the binder containing the room’s inventory, she found what she was looking for in a small box that contained a spindle of CD-ROMs and a number of small USB devices called “flash drives.”
She assumed they were some kind of data storage device, but with the time crunch, Carter preferred to work with the tried and true CD-ROM over something that Windows 95 might not even recognize.
Digging through the CDs, she found one labelled “Version 1.0, Windows 95/98”, and pulled it, before pausing to look at some of the other labels.
“Huh, they included the source code for this,” she remarked to Teal’c.
“That is significant?” the Jaffa asked.
“Well, yes, having the source code means you have the basic building blocks of a software program and can adjust it as you see fit,” she explained, trying to keep things simple, since she wasn’t sure how much computer knowledge Teal’c had picked up in his short time on Earth. “I’m just surprised that they still had it around after 25 years. Things like this are very easy to lose or misplace.”
“We should be grateful for the diligence and foresight of our pastfuture counterparts.” The corners of Teal’c’s mouth pulled up as he said that.
“Yes, we should,” Carter replied with vehemence. “Do you mind taking the batteries to the gate room? I need to grab a laptop and see if I can even install this on it.”
Teal’c nodded and began pushing the cart down the corridor.
By the time she obtained the computer, installed the program, and gave it a test run, Daniel had returned with Catherine Langford, the former civilian head of the Stargate program. After a quick round of hugs and introductions, the pair of women were off to the locker room.
“For something thrown together on the fly, the amount of resources the military threw at this is impressive,” Catherine commented as she found a set of BDUs in her size.
“Well, for the first few months, we were basically running on whatever was left over from when you and General West were running things,” Carter replied, shrugging into her load-bearing vest. “That said, being a special operations command allows us to bypass a lot of military bureaucracy and procure things through alternate channels. For example, we got these boots from Magnum Boots and our load-bearing vests from Blackhawk.”
“So, where’s the penny-pinching?” the older woman asked.
“Weapons, ammunition, uniforms, and the cafeteria,” was Carter’s deadpan reply.
Once they finished, the pair headed down to the control room, where Walter was already halfway through the dialing sequence. Down in the gate room, a MALP and FRED were ready and waiting, with the FRED carrying all the supplies they would need to escape the planet. Hammond shot them a look as they entered.
“Given what’s happened on the last two missions, we’re sending the MALP through first to make sure Dr. Littlefield is even on this ‘Heliopolis,’” the general explained.
Catherine looked at SG-1, who all wore various grimaces, aside from Teal’c. “What’s he talking about?”
O’Neill looked over at Hammond, who reluctantly nodded. “Time travel stuff,” he replied. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing the details. You’ll sleep better at night.”
Any further explanation was cut off by the kawoosh of the gate activating, and the MALP’s steady advance up the ramp and through the wormhole.
As soon as it exited the other gate, the video camera captured at least a dozen humans in metallic silver jumpsuits standing inside a gate room of hewn stone, along with various bits of equipment. Some were recognizable, like lights and carts, while the purpose of others were not so obvious, at least given the low resolution of the camera. There was an awkward pause on both sides of the camera, then General Hammond leaned over the microphone.
“This is General George S. Hammond of Earth. We are looking for an individual named Ernest Littlefield who arrived on the planet you are on. If you have any information regarding his whereabouts, simply speak to our probe – it transmits audiovisual signals in real time.”
One of the silver wearing humans, a thin man with Caucasian features and black hair, approached the MALP. “I am Narim, deputy director of this expedition.” He paused, looking over the MALP. “The Asgard told us to expect you. Dr. Littlefield is currently busy, but I can relay any message you have to him.”
Hammond mulled that over, then asked, “Is Dr. Littlefield on that planet?”
“He is.”
“I have a team of representatives with me, including someone who knows Dr. Littlefield personally,” Hammond continued. “With your permission, I’d like to send them through the Stargate to speak with him and any representatives of your government, if available.”
“That is quite acceptable,” Narim assured him.
“Thank you. The team will be coming through shortly.” Hammond muted the microphone, then turned to SG-1. They did their best to ignore the exasperation on the general’s face as he gave out his orders. “Colonel, I want you to determine the status of Dr. Littlefield and figure out what the hell is going on here. Give me a preliminary report in two hours, and let me know if I have to make another call to the president.”
“Yes sir!” O’Neill replied, snapping off a salute before leading the team down to the gate room and through the gate. He quickly handled introducing the team to Narim, then asked, “Alright, can we see Dr. Littlefield?”
“Of course,” Narim replied, seemingly unbothered by O’Neill’s brusque manner. “This way.”
“Aren’t you concerned that the structure might collapse?” Carter asked as they exited the Heliopolis gate room and began making their way through the stone castle.
A brief look of confusion crossed Narim’s face, which was quickly replaced by comprehension. “The Asgard teleported this fortress from its original foundations on the coast, to a geologically stable position far in land. There has been some structural damage, which we are repairing, but there is no overall danger here.”
“They beamed the entire building?” O’Neill asked, channeling the disbelief of all of SG-1 – including Teal’c, who had merely raised an eyebrow at the statement.
“The Asgard are quite advanced,” was Narim’s understated response.
“You’ve mentioned the Asgard, but nothing about your people,” Daniel observed. “We’ve also met the Asgard, Thor specifically. We’d like to open diplomatic relations with any peaceful civilization, especially if they are opposed to the Goa’uld.”
“My people are the Tollan,” Narim replied as he led them down a corner. “The Asgard first contacted us about a century ago, if I understand the calendar conversion between our planets correctly. Eventually, after formal relations were established, they informed us about the time travel events that had occurred, as well as events that had not yet occurred.” He gave them a significant look. “In the process, information you acquired allowed us to avoid the destruction of our planet.”
“Look, I’m not afraid to take credit for our pastfuture counterparts’ accomplishments,” Colonel O’Neill said, pointing at Narim, “but you can’t hold it against currentpresent us if we’re nowhere near as cool as they were.” He paused, then added, “That’s more of a general ‘you’, not you specifically.”
“Pastfuture?” Catherine asked, perhaps a second or so before Narim could.
“It is our terminology for the previous iteration of the timeline that directly created the current one,” Teal’c explained, saving Daniel and Carter from that responsibility.
“I see, and understand the logic,” Narim replied. “As well as your concerns about your perception.” They paused before a set of stairs that led down to a room where scientists stood around a large pedestal topped by a red, glowing dome. “Dr. Littlefield is down in the library chamber.”
“Daniel, you and Catherine go on ahead. We’ll catch up with you as soon as we clear some things up with Narim here,” O’Neill said. Daniel and Catherine looked at him, and after a reassuring smile, they started down the stairs. When they were halfway down, the Colonel turned to Narim and asked, “There’s not going to be any problems regarding Ernest, right? He can come back with us if he wants, that sort of thing?”
Narim blinked, then looked at O’Neill in confusion. “I’m not an archon – a legal scholar – but it is my understanding your people have a concept called dual citizenship? Dr. Littlefield was given Tollan citizenship decades ago, and is free to go with you at any time.” Narim smiled. “In fact, the Curia – our governing body – expects him to do so, as part of our diplomatic corps.”
“That’s… good to hear,” the colonel replied. “I didn’t mean to imply anything, you understand. It’s just that my boss expects me to call him and let him know if he needs to call his boss.” He shrugged in a “you know what I mean” way, then added, “You seem to know a lot of stuff…”
“I’m Dr. Littlefield’s deputy for this expedition,” the Tollan explained. “My government prepared me in case he stepped down and returned with you.”
“Ah,” O’Neill said. “So, when we say diplomacy, that means… what to you?”
“Obviously, a stable line of communications, and outreach efforts focusing on educating your people on advanced science necessary to safely operate and build technology to defend your planet.”
Carter’s head whipped toward her commanding officer. “Sir, this is exactly the kind of knowledge we need. There’s entire categories of technologies that our pastfuture counterparts provided us that we can’t even touch due to how dangerous they can be if misused.”
Teal’c shared a look with the colonel, saying, “I sense the hand of the Asgard in this. By making access to this knowledge dependent on good relations with the Tollan, it gives Stargate Command a potent weapon against any rogue elements amongst the Tau’ri.”
It didn’t surprise Carter that Teal’c could come up such an astute observation. As First Prime, he’d been in charge of Apophis’ armies, and that level of strategy required a hefty dose of analytical skill. It also helped that Teal’c was probably always on the lookout for ways to weaken the Goa’uld, in the name of Jaffa freedom.
And there was von Clausewitz’s maxim that “war is a continuation of politics by other means,” which was seeming like a universal truth at this rate.
“Good point, Teal’c,” Colonel O’Neill acknowledged, before turning his attention back to Narim. “I know Carter’s probably eager to geek out with Daniel at whatever’s in this library, so how about we continue this conversation down there,” he said, motioning towards the bottom of the stairs.
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at that, but it was true. Any library the Tollan were interested in studying had to be full of fascinating and possibly super-advanced information. What self-respecting scientist wouldn’t want to spend time with such a treasure trove of knowledge?
Author's Notes: This chapter is very "don't let it (existential dread) set in," because if you're wondering why Carter doesn't know about certain things, it's because they didn't exist at the time. That's right, Wikipedia post-dates the premiere of SG-1, as do flash drives.
Also, big thanks to Spartan303 for passing on a video about the uniforms of SG-1. There's a lot going on with them, and I incorporated tidbits that made sense, but there's some bits that are just going to be "Stargate is an alt history." Like the cut of the BDU pants being different than the actual 1990s BDUs.
To be completely clear on the Tollan situtation - Sarita didn't blow up, and the planet Tollan is fine. Narim lucked out on existing in this version of the timeline, but other Tollan characters might not have been so lucky.
Outstanding update. I am absolutely loving this. Love how SG1 is learning as they go. Narrim, The Asgard and Doctor Littlefield all got raw deals in the original timeline. Its nice to see them all getting a second chance here. Really warms my heart.
Optymist.It could be alien Hive mind demon,not simple demons or aliens taking over.
Human traitors - in Poland we do not cooperate with germans or comies/except cryminals/,but now? 30% of population vote for german agent.
So,why not betray for alien demons ,too?
Made an account just so i can say @Spartan303 gave me the rec for this. And I just want to say, outstanding work.
And thanks for the rec Spartan!
And thanks for the rec Spartan!
Welcome man. It's a great fic with tons of potential.
Currentpast 5
Currentpast 5
Glinson, Pangar
Milky Way Galaxy
May 1880
Premier Stephanos Florea, chief executive of the republic of Pasnington, stood in the bright sun of the largest park in the capital of Glinson, thinking I wish this wasn’t so damn public.
The local constabulary force had set up a quarter acre perimeter, but he could see crowds of people, commoners, the rich and famous, and journalists alike, squeezing towards the open area where he stood. Next to him were ambassadors for Pasnington’s peer powers, Iethad and Snoidan, who were here to represent their respective nations at this historic event. A historic event that had been organized in three days’ time.
People from another world had used a flying machine (what an incredible invention!) to drop hastily drawn flyers on the capitol building, stating their intention to meet with the government, and the particulars thereof.
Naturally, this led to a media frenzy, with newspapers publishing all sorts of articles, many of them including questionable drawings of the flying machine itself. Just about the only thing they had in common was down-swept wings and a vaguely pyramid or cone like shape. Everything else was up for debate, and Florea couldn’t put any stock in any of it.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of the crowd, and as he looked around, he spotted people pointing into the air. He followed their lead, looked up, and spotted a dark dot that was growing bigger in the sky. As it approached, the shape reminded him of one of the fish he’d catch in the lake by his childhood home – at least from the front. He couldn’t get a good look at the back, but he could clearly see the wings.
The crowd went wild, cheering and waving as it approached the ground… then the machine stopped, a good hundred feet in the air and several dozen yards away from where the dignitaries were standing. It hovered there, and as the crowd’s enthusiasm began slipping into confusion, the metal-on-metal sliding of a hatch opening could be heard. Then a column of light appeared, followed by five rings of dark material – Florea couldn’t tell if it was stone, metal, or something else entirely – falling out of the bottom of the machine… then started hovering above the ground! There were gasps from everyone watching, himself included, and that doubled when an intense pulse of light travelled from the flying machine to the rings, which then flew back into the machine before it turned around and flew away.
Florea immediately spotted the famed explorer Professor Sciarra at the front of a group of five people who had appeared inside the rings. Sciarra had done quite a bit of fundraising for his latest expedition, even going to the Parliament to argue for a small investment of public money to “unlock the secrets of our shrouded past.” He was a good speaker, Florea had to admit, and in his formal suit, cut an impressive figure.
But behind Sciarra and to the man’s left was a tall creature that was at least a good foot or two taller than the professor, with spikes coming out of its back, a long bladed tail, claws for hands and feet, and a massive bony crest on the back of its head. It took several seconds for him to realize there was a surprisingly human face, and that the creature wore an abbreviated suit, one that covered the torso, upper arms, and thighs. This was because Florea’s primary thoughts were How can such a person sit comfortably? and So that is why they requested an open top carriage.
The rest of the group was quite ordinary in appearance. A blonde woman and dark skinned man with braided hair in dark leathers, and a tanned man in a similar style of business suit to the… Florea paused, completely unsure what label to apply to a person that seemed half monster. It was absolutely bizarre and so completely out of his context that he had a hard time processing the situation as the group approached.
He was in good company, as a number of people in the crowd had fainted at the sight, and were being tended to by constables and their fellow citizens.
Sciarra stopped roughly five paces in front of him, then gestured towards the people in leathers. “I present to you sir Tartet and lady Sina of the Tok’ra.” The professor then gestured to the other pair. “Sir Emilio Soares and lady Adriene Iseul Soares, formerly of Nabua.”
As he introduced himself to the aliens, returning the nods and bows they gave him, he couldn’t help be intimidated by giant woman(!) leaning towards him. In fact, it made him think Emilio Soares was an incredibly brave man to be married to such a woman. She could crush him by sitting on him was one of many thoughts on the subject.
Florea somehow managed to retain his composure as he guided the aliens to a pair of waiting carriages, allowing the Soares couple to get in the first one. He barely managed to keep from cringing as the wood loudly creaked under the tall woman’s weight, then gestured for the professor to get on. As he himself joined them, he spotted the ambassadors and Tok’ra boarding the other carriage. He would’ve worried about scheming, but given his company, he could not find it in himself to blame anyone for that.
As he and Sciarra began pointing out various landmarks on the carefully chosen route to the capitol building, the premier kept a careful eye on his guests. They certainly seemed like a loving couple, although he didn’t see the appeal of having pretty bony looking tail wrapped oneself. But something nagged at him the whole trip, something he couldn’t exactly put his finger on.
He caught it from time to time when Mrs. Soares was looking out at the streets, buildings, and people of the city. It was an oddness of the eyes, beyond the blood red irises, something that seemed less than human, and yet more at the same time. But what bothered him the most about it was the nagging feeling he saw glimpses of the same thing in the eyes of his fellow politicians.
Are we truly as far apart as we seem on the surface? he thought to himself. And if not, what does that mean?
Adriene Iseul Soares smiled and daintily sipped from her glass of wine as well-dressed and coiffed Pangarans ping-ponged from her to her husband to the Tok’ra in a textbook example of Brownian motion. She was enjoying this reception, after hours of giving speeches and shaking hands with dozens of politicians and bureaucrats. She was still talking to people, but they were at least asking mildly interesting questions, instead of exchanging empty greetings and platitudes.
One aspect of her hybrid nature was a certain psionic sensitivity, which was useful in some contexts, and less so in others. Such as when she entered this ballroom, causing the general level of anxiety and fear to spike. She’d had to pump an excessive amount of pheromones into the air to get the Pangarans to calm down, with the general milling about doing the hard work of circulating the chemicals throughout the room. She could tolerate the current mix of curiosity, low level lust, anger, and fear without being anywhere near on edge.
It helped that the fear and anger was mostly concentrated in the most expected source – the women. The females of homo sapiens sapiens may have been genetically stagnant compared to the males, due to XX chromosome arrangement slowing genetic iteration, but their base instincts were good. They sensed Adriene and her kind were a threat, a competitor for the finite supply of males in Pangaran civilization, and they were subconsciously aligning to fight the xeno-brids.
She didn’t blame them at all, not when her kind was superior in almost every way, except the minor inconvenience of not being able to sit in a normal chair or with their back to their husband’s chest.
Officially, the creation of a xenomorph-hybrid had been yet another mega-corp experiment in controlling bog standard xenomorphs (the Old Breed, her kind called them) and the various derivatives. But the scientists working on the project thought that was a waste of potential and opportunity – the unparalleled opportunity to improve the human species. They were well aware of that alignment between male and female homo sapiens sapiens had been on a steady decline, since at least the industrial revolution, on a biological, mental, and social level. Creating a better breed of female, one focused on ensuring that male and female were as aligned as possible, was their hope for ameliorating much of humanity's strife and discontent.
The Pangaran women didn’t know that, but they could sense that Adriene represented the peak performance of their new competition. And their fight-or-flight instincts were screaming that the xeno-brids were an existential threat. And if they were facing the Old Breed, they probably would’ve been right. But why wipe out perfectly good breeding partners for one’s children? There was only so much that could be done to improve the human female at a genetic level, but it made keeping them around worthwhile to increase the diversity of the gene pool.
Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the many men in suits asking her a question. “I hope you find our hospitality sufficient for royalty of your status?”
Adriene blinked a few times in confusion, then gave a polite chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually royalty, at least as you understand it.” This isn’t the time to discuss the Old Breed’s hive structure, xenomorph queen biology, and how it applies to the New Breed. “Being a queen in our society is more of a… community leadership role one is elevated to than a hereditary position. My family was quite average, honestly.”
“Then how does one become a queen?” the man asked, and she could tell he was probably wondering what “average” meant to her. It was two parents and dozens of siblings, spending hours at school processing and applying knowledge transmitted into her brain, and hanging out with her friends to figure out the best strategies for finding a boyfriend.
“It’s a competitive process,” she replied, taking another sip of her wine. “All the candidates undergo a number of tests on specific subject matter, how you’d approach certain tasks, that sort of thing. If there’s only one opening and there’s a number of candidates with close scores, there can be a mock combat trial as a tie-breaker. After that, you get… medicine to achieve this physique.”
She’d gained a small audience at this point, and they looked at her in shock. Well, if that shocks them, imagine what they’d think about the fully detailed explanation.
“You weren’t always so… tall?” a woman asked.
“No, I used to be about… this tall,” Adriene replied, holding her free hand at around the height of the man who asked the first question. “That’s a normal height for my people.”
“Did it hurt?” the Pangaran asked, clearly astounded by feat of biological engineering.
“No, I slept through the whole thing.” Floating in a tank of xenomorph royal jelly, but she was asleep throughout the growth process. “When I woke up, I was very… hungry.” And horny, but they didn’t need to know how she and Emilio had spent a few hours ravaging each other before she actually got a meal in. “I think my first meal after waking up was a pretty sizable chunk of that buffet over there.”
Almost everyone turned around to look at the buffet, except one man in a finer cut suit. What Adriene sensed of his mind set her on edge, but she kept a smile on her face, refusing to allow him to know she perceived him as a potential threat. He was likely an intelligence agent of some kind, and precisely the kind of person she’d detail a few xeno-brids to seduce, half because it’d neutralize a threat, and half because it’d be a challenge.
“So, your society is a… matriarchy?” The agent asked, his bland salt and pepper hair, decent tan, and brown eyes combining into a handsome but unmemorable face.
Waiting until the rest of the group returned their attention to her, the hybrid queen kept her eyes locked on man in front of her. “No, men and women are equal members of society. Anybody can rise to a leadership position for a business, military, or government role… but the civic leadership role is more for motivated individuals with a certain clarity of vision.”
That vision, of course, was of a harmonious, growing, thriving community, teeming with happy families living peaceful lives. It was something that appealed to both halves of her genetic legacy, especially the xenomorph half. A hive was, after all, nothing more than a big, (not so) happy family. (Happiness was not something anyone associated with the Old Breed, which was a contentious species at the best of times.)
The man didn’t say anything more and slowly drifted out of the group in front of her. But Adriene channeled her superior senses, and tracked him moving through the crowd towards her husband, who was being pestered by various women trying to “save” him. She chuckled at that – at this point in their marriage, they owned each either in mind, body, and soul. Anyone trying to interfere would just bounce off a brick wall.
Not that she wouldn’t mind turning some of these women into playthings. But wasn’t likely to be popular around these parts. And even if she wanted to, it wasn’t prudent to have salacious rumors flying around before entering into political negotiations. Better to be a bit frightening, but reasonable…
As the sun began setting over the camp site, Malek barely looked up at the sound of the Teltak returning from Glinson. His attention was focused on a map laid out on a large field table, showing the layout of the underground sections of the old Goa’uld temple complex. He made a note on a small section, showing a number of tunnels leading to a series of rooms, one of which included a secret compartment.
“Yer not interested in seeing your buddies return?” the Pangaran expedition’s foreman asked. He was a middle aged, sun weathered man in coarse overalls, who would’ve reeked if everyone wasn’t already nose blind. Showers and baths were in short supply this far out into the wilderness.
“Unless the xenomorph-hybrids suddenly disappear, we have no reason to be concerned,” the Tok’ra replied, marking positions that had been cleared out and reinforced.
“That’s a mite bit unfriendly,” the foreman replied, looking out of tent’s open entrance flap. There was crowd gathering around the landed Teltak to greet the returning representatives.
“The entire goal of their trip was to set up the diplomatic ground work for negotiating with the Asgard,” Malek responded, nodding in satisfaction at the progress towards Egeria’s chamber. "The saying 'no news is good news' applies here."
In the previous iteration of history, the chamber had been excavated on third expedition, which had brought a great deal more manpower and supplies of reinforcing material. Since Malek and Sina’s Tok’ra cell hadn’t known what, if any, technical support they would have if they executed their time travel plan. So they had developed a new form of crystal to grow temporary support columns, which would decay within a year, which was more than enough time to come up with a more permanent solution.
The foreman walked out of the tent, leaving the Tok’ra alone with his thoughts, which perfectly acceptable to him. Time alone was infrequent and often interrupted by—
With loud twack, one of the xeno-brid children slammed into his left leg, causing him to brace against the table.
Malek bit back a curse and glared at the child, a brown haired girl with yellowish exoskeleton visible on her hands, forearms, and legs. He would’ve called her a six or seven year old, but given their accelerated growth, he couldn’t guess their age with any certainty. The girl mumbled an apology and ran back out of the tent before he could scold her, leaving him to alleviate his host’s pain as the pair shared mutual disdain for the unruly children.
He turned around and leaned back on the table, rubbing his leg, and caught Sina approaching the tent. Upon entry, she raised an eyebrow at him.
“One of the children ran into me, again,” he explained.
“I see.” Sina sighed and handed him a data crystal for use on one of their tablets. “We’ve made contact with representatives of the major governments on the planet. We’ll be able to enter full negotiations with them in two months’ time, and no sooner, based on the current transportation technology.”
Malek blinked, then leaned forward. “Will we even have food in two months’ time?”
“I know how bad the food issues are,” she replied, then moved over to the table, searching for a map of the country of Glinson. Upon finding it, she laid it on top of the map of the Goa’uld complex and put her finger on their current location. “We are here, and the closest town is here.” She traced her finger in a direct line from the site to a town named “Hytheford.” “In between are a series of mountains, the largest of which is here,” she explained, moving her finger back to roughly the middle of the line. “Using naquadah/potassium charges and our tunneling crystals, we can cut a path for a road through the mountains. That creates a stable supply line for purchasing food, as well as giving the hybrids a wider hunting range, which should keep them from hunting out a specific area.”
Frowning, Malek looked over the map and tried to run the numbers, then shook his head. “I would need to check the Teltak’s sensor records before assessing the viability of the plan. I fear we could exhaust our supply of crystals long before we could establish production to replace them.”
While the Tok’ra brought sizable supplies of both the crystals and naquadah, as well as the tools to produce more crystals, they only had finite amount that could be used in the here and now. They were resources to be used with great care, and Malek wasn’t entirely convinced that helping the xenomorph-hybrids was a prudent move, especially given their numerical advantage over the Tok’ra. Anything that weakened them in the here and now could provide an edge later.
On the other hand, the hybrids were exceptionally concerned with the well-being of their children, and failing to address the food issue might lead them into a more aggressive, expansionist attitude. One that might consider the elimination of the Tok’ra to beneficial.
“I understand your concerns,” Sina said, perhaps unaware of Malek’s inner turmoil… or perhaps all too aware of it. “Go over all the data, and brief me in the morning if it is at all viable.”
With that, she turned and exited the tent, leaving him to contemplate the data crystal… and hope the information on it could provide a solution to their problems.
Author's Notes: It's kind of fun to write from the POV of a pre-20th century person, because it makes you realize how much stuff just didn't exist back then and would therefore be a weird, out of context problem. It gives the whole thing a kind of Jules Verne vibe, and it's fun to bring out the "fainting ladies" trope from time to time. It's also a good reminder of how hard it used to be to accomplish anything, especially involving travel and the transmission of information, and that we've got it really good in the 21st century.
So the logic behind creating xenomorph-hybrids is this: you can only get so much control over what are essentially space velociraptors through the various conditioning techniques people try in the movies, comics, games, novels, etc... So you need some kind of thing that uses the biological communication and control methods of xenomorphs, but can also interface with humans in a comprehensible way. That covers the paper reason to create the things. For the rest, take a listen to social psychologist Roy Baumeister basically explain everything I glossed over for the sake of simplicity in great detail.
It actually explains a lot about the last 30-some years... and why waifus are a valid answer to the "Is the cure to male loneliness" meme.
Glinson, Pangar
Milky Way Galaxy
May 1880
Premier Stephanos Florea, chief executive of the republic of Pasnington, stood in the bright sun of the largest park in the capital of Glinson, thinking I wish this wasn’t so damn public.
The local constabulary force had set up a quarter acre perimeter, but he could see crowds of people, commoners, the rich and famous, and journalists alike, squeezing towards the open area where he stood. Next to him were ambassadors for Pasnington’s peer powers, Iethad and Snoidan, who were here to represent their respective nations at this historic event. A historic event that had been organized in three days’ time.
People from another world had used a flying machine (what an incredible invention!) to drop hastily drawn flyers on the capitol building, stating their intention to meet with the government, and the particulars thereof.
Naturally, this led to a media frenzy, with newspapers publishing all sorts of articles, many of them including questionable drawings of the flying machine itself. Just about the only thing they had in common was down-swept wings and a vaguely pyramid or cone like shape. Everything else was up for debate, and Florea couldn’t put any stock in any of it.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of the crowd, and as he looked around, he spotted people pointing into the air. He followed their lead, looked up, and spotted a dark dot that was growing bigger in the sky. As it approached, the shape reminded him of one of the fish he’d catch in the lake by his childhood home – at least from the front. He couldn’t get a good look at the back, but he could clearly see the wings.
The crowd went wild, cheering and waving as it approached the ground… then the machine stopped, a good hundred feet in the air and several dozen yards away from where the dignitaries were standing. It hovered there, and as the crowd’s enthusiasm began slipping into confusion, the metal-on-metal sliding of a hatch opening could be heard. Then a column of light appeared, followed by five rings of dark material – Florea couldn’t tell if it was stone, metal, or something else entirely – falling out of the bottom of the machine… then started hovering above the ground! There were gasps from everyone watching, himself included, and that doubled when an intense pulse of light travelled from the flying machine to the rings, which then flew back into the machine before it turned around and flew away.
Florea immediately spotted the famed explorer Professor Sciarra at the front of a group of five people who had appeared inside the rings. Sciarra had done quite a bit of fundraising for his latest expedition, even going to the Parliament to argue for a small investment of public money to “unlock the secrets of our shrouded past.” He was a good speaker, Florea had to admit, and in his formal suit, cut an impressive figure.
But behind Sciarra and to the man’s left was a tall creature that was at least a good foot or two taller than the professor, with spikes coming out of its back, a long bladed tail, claws for hands and feet, and a massive bony crest on the back of its head. It took several seconds for him to realize there was a surprisingly human face, and that the creature wore an abbreviated suit, one that covered the torso, upper arms, and thighs. This was because Florea’s primary thoughts were How can such a person sit comfortably? and So that is why they requested an open top carriage.
The rest of the group was quite ordinary in appearance. A blonde woman and dark skinned man with braided hair in dark leathers, and a tanned man in a similar style of business suit to the… Florea paused, completely unsure what label to apply to a person that seemed half monster. It was absolutely bizarre and so completely out of his context that he had a hard time processing the situation as the group approached.
He was in good company, as a number of people in the crowd had fainted at the sight, and were being tended to by constables and their fellow citizens.
Sciarra stopped roughly five paces in front of him, then gestured towards the people in leathers. “I present to you sir Tartet and lady Sina of the Tok’ra.” The professor then gestured to the other pair. “Sir Emilio Soares and lady Adriene Iseul Soares, formerly of Nabua.”
As he introduced himself to the aliens, returning the nods and bows they gave him, he couldn’t help be intimidated by giant woman(!) leaning towards him. In fact, it made him think Emilio Soares was an incredibly brave man to be married to such a woman. She could crush him by sitting on him was one of many thoughts on the subject.
Florea somehow managed to retain his composure as he guided the aliens to a pair of waiting carriages, allowing the Soares couple to get in the first one. He barely managed to keep from cringing as the wood loudly creaked under the tall woman’s weight, then gestured for the professor to get on. As he himself joined them, he spotted the ambassadors and Tok’ra boarding the other carriage. He would’ve worried about scheming, but given his company, he could not find it in himself to blame anyone for that.
As he and Sciarra began pointing out various landmarks on the carefully chosen route to the capitol building, the premier kept a careful eye on his guests. They certainly seemed like a loving couple, although he didn’t see the appeal of having pretty bony looking tail wrapped oneself. But something nagged at him the whole trip, something he couldn’t exactly put his finger on.
He caught it from time to time when Mrs. Soares was looking out at the streets, buildings, and people of the city. It was an oddness of the eyes, beyond the blood red irises, something that seemed less than human, and yet more at the same time. But what bothered him the most about it was the nagging feeling he saw glimpses of the same thing in the eyes of his fellow politicians.
Are we truly as far apart as we seem on the surface? he thought to himself. And if not, what does that mean?
Adriene Iseul Soares smiled and daintily sipped from her glass of wine as well-dressed and coiffed Pangarans ping-ponged from her to her husband to the Tok’ra in a textbook example of Brownian motion. She was enjoying this reception, after hours of giving speeches and shaking hands with dozens of politicians and bureaucrats. She was still talking to people, but they were at least asking mildly interesting questions, instead of exchanging empty greetings and platitudes.
One aspect of her hybrid nature was a certain psionic sensitivity, which was useful in some contexts, and less so in others. Such as when she entered this ballroom, causing the general level of anxiety and fear to spike. She’d had to pump an excessive amount of pheromones into the air to get the Pangarans to calm down, with the general milling about doing the hard work of circulating the chemicals throughout the room. She could tolerate the current mix of curiosity, low level lust, anger, and fear without being anywhere near on edge.
It helped that the fear and anger was mostly concentrated in the most expected source – the women. The females of homo sapiens sapiens may have been genetically stagnant compared to the males, due to XX chromosome arrangement slowing genetic iteration, but their base instincts were good. They sensed Adriene and her kind were a threat, a competitor for the finite supply of males in Pangaran civilization, and they were subconsciously aligning to fight the xeno-brids.
She didn’t blame them at all, not when her kind was superior in almost every way, except the minor inconvenience of not being able to sit in a normal chair or with their back to their husband’s chest.
Officially, the creation of a xenomorph-hybrid had been yet another mega-corp experiment in controlling bog standard xenomorphs (the Old Breed, her kind called them) and the various derivatives. But the scientists working on the project thought that was a waste of potential and opportunity – the unparalleled opportunity to improve the human species. They were well aware of that alignment between male and female homo sapiens sapiens had been on a steady decline, since at least the industrial revolution, on a biological, mental, and social level. Creating a better breed of female, one focused on ensuring that male and female were as aligned as possible, was their hope for ameliorating much of humanity's strife and discontent.
The Pangaran women didn’t know that, but they could sense that Adriene represented the peak performance of their new competition. And their fight-or-flight instincts were screaming that the xeno-brids were an existential threat. And if they were facing the Old Breed, they probably would’ve been right. But why wipe out perfectly good breeding partners for one’s children? There was only so much that could be done to improve the human female at a genetic level, but it made keeping them around worthwhile to increase the diversity of the gene pool.
Her thoughts were interrupted by one of the many men in suits asking her a question. “I hope you find our hospitality sufficient for royalty of your status?”
Adriene blinked a few times in confusion, then gave a polite chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually royalty, at least as you understand it.” This isn’t the time to discuss the Old Breed’s hive structure, xenomorph queen biology, and how it applies to the New Breed. “Being a queen in our society is more of a… community leadership role one is elevated to than a hereditary position. My family was quite average, honestly.”
“Then how does one become a queen?” the man asked, and she could tell he was probably wondering what “average” meant to her. It was two parents and dozens of siblings, spending hours at school processing and applying knowledge transmitted into her brain, and hanging out with her friends to figure out the best strategies for finding a boyfriend.
“It’s a competitive process,” she replied, taking another sip of her wine. “All the candidates undergo a number of tests on specific subject matter, how you’d approach certain tasks, that sort of thing. If there’s only one opening and there’s a number of candidates with close scores, there can be a mock combat trial as a tie-breaker. After that, you get… medicine to achieve this physique.”
She’d gained a small audience at this point, and they looked at her in shock. Well, if that shocks them, imagine what they’d think about the fully detailed explanation.
“You weren’t always so… tall?” a woman asked.
“No, I used to be about… this tall,” Adriene replied, holding her free hand at around the height of the man who asked the first question. “That’s a normal height for my people.”
“Did it hurt?” the Pangaran asked, clearly astounded by feat of biological engineering.
“No, I slept through the whole thing.” Floating in a tank of xenomorph royal jelly, but she was asleep throughout the growth process. “When I woke up, I was very… hungry.” And horny, but they didn’t need to know how she and Emilio had spent a few hours ravaging each other before she actually got a meal in. “I think my first meal after waking up was a pretty sizable chunk of that buffet over there.”
Almost everyone turned around to look at the buffet, except one man in a finer cut suit. What Adriene sensed of his mind set her on edge, but she kept a smile on her face, refusing to allow him to know she perceived him as a potential threat. He was likely an intelligence agent of some kind, and precisely the kind of person she’d detail a few xeno-brids to seduce, half because it’d neutralize a threat, and half because it’d be a challenge.
“So, your society is a… matriarchy?” The agent asked, his bland salt and pepper hair, decent tan, and brown eyes combining into a handsome but unmemorable face.
Waiting until the rest of the group returned their attention to her, the hybrid queen kept her eyes locked on man in front of her. “No, men and women are equal members of society. Anybody can rise to a leadership position for a business, military, or government role… but the civic leadership role is more for motivated individuals with a certain clarity of vision.”
That vision, of course, was of a harmonious, growing, thriving community, teeming with happy families living peaceful lives. It was something that appealed to both halves of her genetic legacy, especially the xenomorph half. A hive was, after all, nothing more than a big, (not so) happy family. (Happiness was not something anyone associated with the Old Breed, which was a contentious species at the best of times.)
The man didn’t say anything more and slowly drifted out of the group in front of her. But Adriene channeled her superior senses, and tracked him moving through the crowd towards her husband, who was being pestered by various women trying to “save” him. She chuckled at that – at this point in their marriage, they owned each either in mind, body, and soul. Anyone trying to interfere would just bounce off a brick wall.
Not that she wouldn’t mind turning some of these women into playthings. But wasn’t likely to be popular around these parts. And even if she wanted to, it wasn’t prudent to have salacious rumors flying around before entering into political negotiations. Better to be a bit frightening, but reasonable…
As the sun began setting over the camp site, Malek barely looked up at the sound of the Teltak returning from Glinson. His attention was focused on a map laid out on a large field table, showing the layout of the underground sections of the old Goa’uld temple complex. He made a note on a small section, showing a number of tunnels leading to a series of rooms, one of which included a secret compartment.
“Yer not interested in seeing your buddies return?” the Pangaran expedition’s foreman asked. He was a middle aged, sun weathered man in coarse overalls, who would’ve reeked if everyone wasn’t already nose blind. Showers and baths were in short supply this far out into the wilderness.
“Unless the xenomorph-hybrids suddenly disappear, we have no reason to be concerned,” the Tok’ra replied, marking positions that had been cleared out and reinforced.
“That’s a mite bit unfriendly,” the foreman replied, looking out of tent’s open entrance flap. There was crowd gathering around the landed Teltak to greet the returning representatives.
“The entire goal of their trip was to set up the diplomatic ground work for negotiating with the Asgard,” Malek responded, nodding in satisfaction at the progress towards Egeria’s chamber. "The saying 'no news is good news' applies here."
In the previous iteration of history, the chamber had been excavated on third expedition, which had brought a great deal more manpower and supplies of reinforcing material. Since Malek and Sina’s Tok’ra cell hadn’t known what, if any, technical support they would have if they executed their time travel plan. So they had developed a new form of crystal to grow temporary support columns, which would decay within a year, which was more than enough time to come up with a more permanent solution.
The foreman walked out of the tent, leaving the Tok’ra alone with his thoughts, which perfectly acceptable to him. Time alone was infrequent and often interrupted by—
With loud twack, one of the xeno-brid children slammed into his left leg, causing him to brace against the table.
Malek bit back a curse and glared at the child, a brown haired girl with yellowish exoskeleton visible on her hands, forearms, and legs. He would’ve called her a six or seven year old, but given their accelerated growth, he couldn’t guess their age with any certainty. The girl mumbled an apology and ran back out of the tent before he could scold her, leaving him to alleviate his host’s pain as the pair shared mutual disdain for the unruly children.
He turned around and leaned back on the table, rubbing his leg, and caught Sina approaching the tent. Upon entry, she raised an eyebrow at him.
“One of the children ran into me, again,” he explained.
“I see.” Sina sighed and handed him a data crystal for use on one of their tablets. “We’ve made contact with representatives of the major governments on the planet. We’ll be able to enter full negotiations with them in two months’ time, and no sooner, based on the current transportation technology.”
Malek blinked, then leaned forward. “Will we even have food in two months’ time?”
“I know how bad the food issues are,” she replied, then moved over to the table, searching for a map of the country of Glinson. Upon finding it, she laid it on top of the map of the Goa’uld complex and put her finger on their current location. “We are here, and the closest town is here.” She traced her finger in a direct line from the site to a town named “Hytheford.” “In between are a series of mountains, the largest of which is here,” she explained, moving her finger back to roughly the middle of the line. “Using naquadah/potassium charges and our tunneling crystals, we can cut a path for a road through the mountains. That creates a stable supply line for purchasing food, as well as giving the hybrids a wider hunting range, which should keep them from hunting out a specific area.”
Frowning, Malek looked over the map and tried to run the numbers, then shook his head. “I would need to check the Teltak’s sensor records before assessing the viability of the plan. I fear we could exhaust our supply of crystals long before we could establish production to replace them.”
While the Tok’ra brought sizable supplies of both the crystals and naquadah, as well as the tools to produce more crystals, they only had finite amount that could be used in the here and now. They were resources to be used with great care, and Malek wasn’t entirely convinced that helping the xenomorph-hybrids was a prudent move, especially given their numerical advantage over the Tok’ra. Anything that weakened them in the here and now could provide an edge later.
On the other hand, the hybrids were exceptionally concerned with the well-being of their children, and failing to address the food issue might lead them into a more aggressive, expansionist attitude. One that might consider the elimination of the Tok’ra to beneficial.
“I understand your concerns,” Sina said, perhaps unaware of Malek’s inner turmoil… or perhaps all too aware of it. “Go over all the data, and brief me in the morning if it is at all viable.”
With that, she turned and exited the tent, leaving him to contemplate the data crystal… and hope the information on it could provide a solution to their problems.
Author's Notes: It's kind of fun to write from the POV of a pre-20th century person, because it makes you realize how much stuff just didn't exist back then and would therefore be a weird, out of context problem. It gives the whole thing a kind of Jules Verne vibe, and it's fun to bring out the "fainting ladies" trope from time to time. It's also a good reminder of how hard it used to be to accomplish anything, especially involving travel and the transmission of information, and that we've got it really good in the 21st century.
So the logic behind creating xenomorph-hybrids is this: you can only get so much control over what are essentially space velociraptors through the various conditioning techniques people try in the movies, comics, games, novels, etc... So you need some kind of thing that uses the biological communication and control methods of xenomorphs, but can also interface with humans in a comprehensible way. That covers the paper reason to create the things. For the rest, take a listen to social psychologist Roy Baumeister basically explain everything I glossed over for the sake of simplicity in great detail.
It actually explains a lot about the last 30-some years... and why waifus are a valid answer to the "Is the cure to male loneliness" meme.
Very good update and an interesting look into the social dynamics of the Hybrids and their Human husbands and hybrid offspring. Also, very interesting thoughts on the 'old breed'. Though I gotta say, you were dropping some redpill truth bombs there. About women become more adversarial and combative rather than partners.
What did you mean by this exactly?
What did you mean by this exactly?
Just gonna quote my TL;DW of the video I posted the link to in the chapter notes:
Basically, let's imagine that human DNA is like software. The human female genome (HFG) is closer to v1.0.0 than the male genome (HMG - let's say it's v1.2.3), and the result is a bunch of compatibility problems when the two systems try to interact.
Now let's say that someone introduces XMH v1.0.0, which aims at maximizing compatibility with HMG V1.2.3 onward and supplanting HFG v1.0.0. Some people will really like this, but the HFG users are just going to see someone trying to replace them and resent the shit out of that.
In this case, the human women were getting their fight-or-flight instincts triggered super hard, because the space velociraptor hybrids were straight up engineered to replace them.
(Just as an FYI, a lot of the thinking behind this story really crystallized after seeing that video, and you can consider the xenomorph-hybrids to be a thought experiment on what would happen if we tried to solve the problem.)
I am hoping they all die in nuclear fire. I fucking hate the Aliens. I hated the Hybrid idea more. I viewed the entire run of the comics post hybrids with disgust and the hope they all died in fire. The whole hot alien trend just triggers the horror instilled by our legends and mythology.
True,but.....they would be still better then lgbt for our society.
In-Verse, Women, much like they are today, got complacent and entitled. They knew that so long as Men wanted the box and would go to great lengths to get it, they could and would push to extract as much resources, time and attention/validation as they could get before giving it. And so long as women could get it on their terms and only their terms, they were happy and content to maintain the game as it served their sexual interests. They could go on foodie dates with one guy and then fuck another who they really wanted. I know this because I've been both men. This is not a natural state. But we as a society have grown so wealthy, with such abundant food and resources, and there are such men (sadly in large numbers) in both regular life and the government who are willing to cater to women's wants and desires that women control the sexual market place. And they have destroyed it. 100% of women want to fuck 20% of the top men and ignore, use or in the most extreme cases are advocating imprisonment, slavery of just killing off the rest. This has created the imbalance In todays modern world.
And Men have been slow to respond in a way to curb this. At first we responded as we always did. Give women what they want. We are partners. We love them, we want them. We've all heard the terms. Happy wife, Happy life. But todays modern women, who I dub women from the 70s to today and foreseeable future, responded by doubling down. So then men started walking away. At first just in ones or twos, then in small groups, and now its become a movement. And like any movement there are competing interests and narratives on what that should be. Red Pill teaches the cold hard truth of female nature, with an emphasis on managing a mans own behavior and how best to take advantage of the situation. MGTOW just emphasizes walking away entirely. What both systems discuss is managing, minimizing or just ending time, attention, validation and giving resources to women. And this is what is making them go fucking bonkers on a large scale. In todays world, Western women are either being ignored or being replaced by more traditional women from Eastern Europe, Asia (Most notably Thailand, Korea and Japan) or Brazil and Argentina.
Now, all that being said, how does this translate to the story? I suspect in the Aliens verse, that was a short lived solution because Feminism is a cancer that will spread. And its already infecting Asian, Eastern European and South American cultures just as it did in the West. Its even spreading in Islamic cultures. I saw many westernized Iraqi, Kuwaiti and Egyptian women in my time. They either paid lip service to Islam or didn't practice. Aside from the language barriers (though a good number spoke English) They were just like women in the US and Europe.
I also suspect in the Aliens verse that if MGTOW or Redpill are a thing...then their effect on changing women's behavior is blunted because just so many men are thirsty for pussy they'll simp and sell out other men just to get a taste. Times that on multiple planets over multiple generations and you begin to see why people would look into trying to find a way to solve this problem. And how the Xenomorph girls are a proposed solution given the logic presented. I personally do not approve as I see it as dangerous and messing with something that shouldn't be messed with. And given what I've seen of Aliens Dark Descent and their whole stick of 'trying to build a better humanity' this is terrifyingly consistent with that approach. Personally I would love to see the reactions of Samantha Carter, Janet Frasier and Elizabeth Weir to this problem and the supposed solution. Those three are fairly level headed women. But to see them feel threatened on such a level and how they respond will be telling indeed.
Fantastic work Bullethead. Keep it up.
And Men have been slow to respond in a way to curb this. At first we responded as we always did. Give women what they want. We are partners. We love them, we want them. We've all heard the terms. Happy wife, Happy life. But todays modern women, who I dub women from the 70s to today and foreseeable future, responded by doubling down. So then men started walking away. At first just in ones or twos, then in small groups, and now its become a movement. And like any movement there are competing interests and narratives on what that should be. Red Pill teaches the cold hard truth of female nature, with an emphasis on managing a mans own behavior and how best to take advantage of the situation. MGTOW just emphasizes walking away entirely. What both systems discuss is managing, minimizing or just ending time, attention, validation and giving resources to women. And this is what is making them go fucking bonkers on a large scale. In todays world, Western women are either being ignored or being replaced by more traditional women from Eastern Europe, Asia (Most notably Thailand, Korea and Japan) or Brazil and Argentina.
Now, all that being said, how does this translate to the story? I suspect in the Aliens verse, that was a short lived solution because Feminism is a cancer that will spread. And its already infecting Asian, Eastern European and South American cultures just as it did in the West. Its even spreading in Islamic cultures. I saw many westernized Iraqi, Kuwaiti and Egyptian women in my time. They either paid lip service to Islam or didn't practice. Aside from the language barriers (though a good number spoke English) They were just like women in the US and Europe.
I also suspect in the Aliens verse that if MGTOW or Redpill are a thing...then their effect on changing women's behavior is blunted because just so many men are thirsty for pussy they'll simp and sell out other men just to get a taste. Times that on multiple planets over multiple generations and you begin to see why people would look into trying to find a way to solve this problem. And how the Xenomorph girls are a proposed solution given the logic presented. I personally do not approve as I see it as dangerous and messing with something that shouldn't be messed with. And given what I've seen of Aliens Dark Descent and their whole stick of 'trying to build a better humanity' this is terrifyingly consistent with that approach. Personally I would love to see the reactions of Samantha Carter, Janet Frasier and Elizabeth Weir to this problem and the supposed solution. Those three are fairly level headed women. But to see them feel threatened on such a level and how they respond will be telling indeed.
Fantastic work Bullethead. Keep it up.
Currentpresent 6
Currentpresent 6
Stargate Command,
Cheyenne Mountain
September 1997
“So, uh, what’re Captain Carter and Dr. Jackson up to?” Lieutenant Daniel Johnson asked.
Teal’c contemplated the dark skinned Marine standing before him as he took a sip of coffee. Both SG-1 and SG-3 were assigned to this upcoming mission, which made him suspect his pastfuture self had asked a favor of General Hammond regarding his son, Ryac. This was about the time he would be implanted with a juvenile Goa’uld symbiote known as a prim’ta, which Teal’c naturally opposed.
“They have been spending time conversing with Dr. Littlefield about the Heliopolis site and his time amongst the Tollan,” the Jaffa replied. Colonel O’Neill had encouraged him to interact with the other SG team members more often, which was why he was engaging in what the Tau’ri called “small talk.” Jaffa tended not to do anything comparable outside of their barracks or meal halls, due to the risk of a Goa’uld taking offense.
“I thought he was still negotiating with that bigwig that flew in from Washington. Why’s he giving us any info?”
It took Teal’c a good second to parse the sentence and realize that Johnson was referring to the diplomat Joseph Faxon. If there was any one thing that annoyed him about living amongst the Tau’ri, it was the sheer amount of slang in their language. His consumption of Earth media exposed him to a wide variety of common words and phrases, but it was a monumental task to catch up and internalize it all.
“I believe it is a goodwill gesture. It is my understanding that none of the information is particularly confidential or dangerous.”
Before Johnson could ask another question, Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson entered the briefing room, and not long after that, General Hammond himself. All present took their seats, with SG-1 and SG-3 sitting on opposite sides of the table. Both colonels sat next to the general, with Teal’c sitting opposite Lt. Johnson.
The former First Prime picked up the briefing folder and opened it. He barely perceived Hammond’s words when the gate address caught his eye. “This is a high priority mission, which is why two SG teams are being deployed. Your destination is Chulak, and your objectives are as follows.
“First, SG-1 is to make contact with Teal’c’s mentor, Master Bra’tac. In the pastfuture, he plays a key role in establishing a Jaffa resistance movement, which we’ll need to encourage when the war with Sokar kicks off. Second, based on pastfuture intelligence, there may be samples of infant Goa’uld available for capture. Our scientists want some to verify the validity of the data we’ve gotten on Goa’uld biology. Third, potential evacuation of Teal’c’s dependents.” Hammond paused as everyone else looked at the stoic Jaffa. “Currentpresent Teal’c did not disclose this fact, but pastfuture Teal’c did and that currentpresent Teal’c was likely to reason that we would not trust him if he had disclosed that fact.”
Feeling the eyes of all present on him, Teal’c bowed his head in apology. “I believed that a warrior becomes vulnerable if his family is held hostage to the enemy. This is why I was not forthcoming.”
When he looked around the table, he saw mostly understanding faces, with Colonel Makepeace seeming particularly annoyed at the situation.
“Apology accepted,” Hammond said, turning the page on his own briefing folder. “The fourth objective is dependent on factors outside our control. But based on what little Langley has gleaned from the mountain of information we’ve dumped on them, there’s a decent chance the xenomorph-hybrids and/or their Tok’ra allies might be on-world waiting for you.” The general glanced over at Makepeace. “Hence the decision to make this another joint mission.”
“Sounds like someone is asleep on the job,” O’Neill commented, which received nods of agreement from SG-3. Teal’c was unfamiliar with the origins of the conflict between the Tau’ri military and intelligence branches, but as Apophis’ First Prime, he had been wary of the Goa’uld spies. It seemed some concepts were universal in nature, which was a source of an odd sort of comfort to him.
The general turned to SG-1’s commanding officer. “Colonel, do you have the slightest idea how much information you’ve dumped onto the plates of the analysts here and at Langley in the past month?” When O’Neill just grimaced, Hammond drove his point home with some choice words. “Major Samuels and the CIA are struggling to find enough analysts with the proper clearances to go through the literal mountain of intelligence and documentation you’ve brought in.”
“Message received sir,” the chagrined colonel replied.
“How you execute the fourth objective depends on the circumstances you find yourselves in,” the general redirected the briefing back onto the mission. “If you encounter the hybrids or the Tok’ra and hybrids operating together, and they are peaceful, you may communicate with them and encourage peaceful diplomatic interaction. But you are not to bring them to the SGC.” Flipping to a new page, Hammond took a quick look at the text before continuing. “If it’s just the Tok’ra, you are authorized to make peaceful contact, if possible. If not, you are authorized to capture them, using a Goa’uld stun weapon called a zat—“
“Zat’nik’tel,” Teal’c interjected with the pronunciation, having noticed that some of the Tau’ri had difficulty pronouncing Goa’uld terms. “One shot from the weapon will stun the target. Two shots will kill them.”
O’Neill looked up with interest, but before he could say anything, Hammond barreled on with the briefing. “Thank you, Teal’c. Langley’s hoping there’s a schism or distrust between the hybrids and the Tok’ra we can use to our advantage, which is why they’re willing to take the risk of bringing them back to Earth.”
“How’ll we be able to ID these Tok’ra if the hybrids aren’t there?” Lt. Johnson asked as Makepeace flipped through the folder.
“Unfortunately, based on information passed on by the Asgard, the Tok’ra switch hosts more often than the Goa’uld,” Hammond informed the junior officer. “The only way to suss them out is to ask about things only these rogue Tok’ra would know.” He lifted a piece of paper. “A list of questions has been provided for that purpose.”
The other members of the SG teams pulled the sheet out of their folders, folding and pocketing the document. Teal’c suspected he was not given a copy of his own, so he made no effort to follow suit.
“So, what’s the plan to get past the front door, sir?” O’Neill asked, lifting his chin in the direction of the stargate.
“You’re going in as a group of Jaffa priests and traders with a single warrior in escort,” the general announced. “Teal’c will be going in full armor, helmet included, which should get you past anyone at the gate. Once you’ve done that, SG-1 is to proceed to with the primary objectives, with SG-3 maintaining a watch on the gate and providing assistance as required.” Hammond turned to Colonel Makepeace. “You’re also the insurance policy in case anyone attempts to kidnap SG-1 and take them offworld.”
“Understood, sir.” Makepeace frowned as he reached the end of the folder. “Do we have any intel on what kind of gear these hybrids might be using? And what are our ROEs?”
“Unfortunately, the Asgard either didn’t provide any information on the hybrids’ military forces, or our analysts haven’t dug it up yet,” the general replied. “Your rules of engagement are as follows: do not fire unless fired upon. If possible, use non-lethal force, but lethal force is authorized for this mission.” He looked at both SG team leaders. “I trust you to make that judgment call as appropriate.”
“Yes sir!” both colonels replied.
“Dismissed.”
Both teams proceeded to the armory obtain their weapons for the mission. To Teal’c’s surprise, the pastfuture SGC had provided custom made holsters with the Zat’nik’tels they had provided, as well as a Jaffa armor gauntlet with a holster as well. His armor had not had the holster, due to the Apophis’ decree that his forces should crush all opposition to his host collecting expeditions.
Of course, it would have been far easier to accomplish that objective with zat’nik’tel equipped troops, but then Apophis wouldn’t have had the same show of force on the few primitive worlds he’d raided.
Teal’c picked up his staff weapon, then raised an eyebrow as one of SG-3’s Marines hefted a machine gun that looked nothing like the M249 machine gun that they had used on their previous mission with SG-1. This one had a top tray that extended over a longer receiver, with a shorter stock, pistol grip on a tube under the barrel, and a number of other differences that Teal’c could spot, but not articulate.
“M60E3,” the Marine explained. “Fires 7.62x51 rounds. Heavy as shit, but pretty close to the most firepower you can pack and still move quickly.”
“Good insurance in case those freaky xenomorph-hybrids show up,” Makepeace commented as he grabbed an XM177E1 carbine, which was an M16 variant with a two position collapsing stock and shortened barrel. “We can’t count on 5.56, 9 mil, or these zat things to penetrate any armor they might have.”
“In my experience, Jaffa armor does not defend against the energy of the zat’nik’tel,” Teal’c informed the Tau’ri around him. “There is a possibility that it can also defeat the armor of the hybrid creatures.”
“Well, let’s just hope we don’t have to find out the hard way,” O’Neill remarked as he examined one. “Now, how do you use these things?”
After a quick demonstration, the teams moved on to the locker room, where Teal’c donned his old Serpent Guard armor, while the Tau’ri donned priest and merchant robes over their uniforms and some of their tactical gear. The Marines piled some of their equipment into generic looking leather satchels that Teal’c assured them would stand up to casual scrutiny, only filling the bags halfway. The M60 was packed into a long, round leather bag that would hang from the shoulder, which might arise suspicion, but Teal’c had seen similar bags for tapestries, so he felt confident it would not draw too much attention.
In the gate room, he fought to calm himself as the chevrons locked, feeling a great weight on his shoulders. Perhaps he would have been slightly more at ease if it was merely SG-1 on this mission, who he had come to trust over these past few months. The presence of SG-3, not quite strangers, but not friends in the same way as SG-1, and the potential appearance of the xenomorph-hybrids, added complications that he had not foreseen for this task. He called on his years of training to center himself, in preparation for whatever lay on the other side.
It was fortunate that he had done so, for the priests on Chulak were present at the gate. He quickly intimidated them into allowing the group passage, and after a short march, the Tau’ri stripped off their robes, packing them into the leather bags, with the Marine hauling the M60 packing his into the now empty bag that had contained the machine gun. Teal’c was silently impressed by the improvisational nature of the solution – things like that would not have occurred to the average Jaffa soldier.
After allowing O’Neill to deal with the minutia of command, Teal’c led SG-1 towards his home, setting a steady pace even as his heart raced inside his chest. As soon as they could spot the small house, isolated in a small clearing, in the distance, the proud Jaffa warrior felt stirrings of fear the like he had never experienced before. When it became clear his home was nothing more than blackened ruins, the pounding his chest practically drowned out all other sounds.
And when he turned the corner to the back of the house, he fell to his knees and wept at the sight of sword with two Goa’uld rising from the hilt – the symbol of shol’va.
Teal’c was glad only SG-1 was here, for he knew they would not consider him lesser in their eyes. Others might not have been so considerate.
He could barely hear Daniel Jackson ask about the symbol, and his own answer sounded as if it were from a great distance. The rest of SG-1’s words of attempted comfort and reason were being drowned out by a growing flare of rage and anguish, and he stepped into the ruins of his home as much to vent his frustrations on the wreckage as to protect his comrades. It was only when he heard a familiar voice shout “Obi tan! Shree! Shree! Shree!” that he regained some of his composure.
When he stepped outside, he saw his mentor, Bra’tac, pointing a staff weapon in the face of O’Neill.
“Tek’ma’te Bra'tac.”
The grizzled Jaffa master looked over to him, then lowered his weapon. “Teal’c,” Bra’tac said, with the beginning of a smile on his face.
“It is good to see you, friend.” He embraced his mentor in an over the shoulder hug.
The elder Jaffa chided him. “Were I an enemy, you would be dead.”
“My wife and son.” Teal’c was aware his control was slipping as he said the words, but he knew neither Bra’tac nor SG-1 would judge him for it.
Bra’tac nodded. “I am told they escaped the burning.” Teal’c closed his eyes as a wave of relief coursed through him. “I thought you might return in time for your boy's ceremony, Teal'c. Brave, but unwise.”
“If you were awaiting my return, perhaps there are others?”
Teal’c’s hopes that the mission would be simple were dashed by his mentor’s next words. “A Goa’uld claiming to be of the Tok’ra arrived a week ago with a single Jaffa bodyguard. She seemed… peculiarly aware of my lack of loyalty to the Goa’uld.” When Teal’c shared a grim look with SG-1, Bra’tac added, “You were expecting this?”
“No,” was Teal’c honest reply. “But we were prepared for the possibility.” He then turned to introduce SG-1. Although Bra’tac had seen them in confinement in the court of Chulak, the Jaffa Master had yet to personally meet any of the Tau’ri. Thus Teal’c was unsurprised when Bra’tac immediately challenged them to get a sense of their mettle.
It was thus inevitable that Bra’tac and O’Neill got into a scuffle that ended with each man winding up in the dirt at some point. When it was all over, Bra’tac offered a hand to the colonel, and as he lifted him up, said “No one has ever defied the Goa'uld and lived to tell of it. There was much talk in Chulak of the warriors of Earth.”
“Glad to hear about that, but, uh…” O’Neill looked over to Teal’c, who nodded. “One very important question. Have you seen or heard about any weird people with pickle heads, tubes coming out of their backs, and spiky tails lurking about lately?”
Bra’tac looked over to Teal’c in confusion. “I am unfamiliar with that manner of creature.”
“That bodes well for our mission,” Teal’c informed him. “Our time here is limited. Can you take us to find my wife and son?”
“Your family is kreshta. Outcasts. The kreshta live in a handful of camps outside the city.” Bra’tac scowled. “The so-called Tok’ra provided me with the information about where they are. She is in one of the camps to the south, nearest the city.”
O’Neill turned to Carter and Daniel Jackson. “Captain, I want you and Daniel to link back up with SG-3. Grab one of Makepeace’s Marines, then execute the second objective.” The colonel looked at his watch. “If we don’t get back in touch in… six hours, get in touch with General Hammond and see how he wants to play this.”
“Yes, sir” was Carter’s reply.
“So much for being warriors of great skill and cunning,” Dr. Jackson commented as he handed back Teal’c’s staff before following Captain Carter back up the trail from the gate.
As O’Neill, Teal’c, and Bra’tac proceeded on their own march, Teal’c tuned out the back and forth between the colonel and the Jaffa Master for the most part. It was only when Bra’tac asked, “I am curious as to how this so-called Tok’ra learned of my opposition to the Goa’uld” that he returned his full attention to his companions. The former First Prime stopped and turned towards O’Neill, who grimaced and rubbed his chin as he tried to figure out what to do.
“Well… the thing is, we’re sworn to secrecy on this,” the colonel said slowly. “If the Goa’uld found out about this, it’d be a disaster… and since you’re living in Goa’uld controlled territory…”
“You do not trust me,” Bra’tac stated flatly.
“It is not a matter of trust,” Teal’c interjected, hoping to prevent a confrontation between the two. “O’Neill trusts me, and extends that trust to you. The answers you seek would ensure the Goa’uld would attempt to conquer or destroy their homeworld.”
“Teal’c, Apophis already intends to destroy their world,” Bra’tac announced, stepping forward to emphasize the point. “By avenging Ra’s death, he would prove himself superior to Heru’ur as successor to the post of Supreme System Lord.”
“Yes, well… I think we can handle one Goa’uld,” O’Neill replied, a slight smile on his face. “It’s just that if the Goa’uld know what we have, they’d all come at us at once, and unless the Asgard help us out, we’re not going to win that one.”
Bra’tac turned to the colonel. “You are allies of the Asgard?”
“I wouldn’t say allies just yet,” O’Neill corrected him. “We said ‘hi’, had a nice chat, and got an invitation to stop by if we needed help.”
Already growing impatient, Teal’c struck boldly to refocus the group on the objective. “Time grows short. We must keep moving.”
After about a half hour’s trek, they found themselves overlooking the camp, causing a wave of terror amongst the denizens, who fled into their tents or the woods. Teal’c paid no mind to this – his attention was focused on a tent made of finer fabrics on the far side of the camp. He raced down a path through the tent village, through the village itself, and into that tent, prepared to kill the priest that would dare make his son a slave to the Goa’uld.
He burst in, shouting “Priest! Stand—“
He paused, his certainty disrupted by the fact that while his son lay asleep on the ceremonial table, there was no Jaffa priest, just a middle-aged woman with pale skin, black hair with a prominent gray streak through one bang, and a blue traveler’s cloak sitting on a wooden stool. He could see a clear jar holding the prim’ta out of one corner of his eyes, but he swung his staff in her direction as she slowly stood up. Behind him, he heard the shifting of Bra’tac’s armor and O’Neill prime his zat’nik’tel.
Holding her empty hands out and to the sides, the supposed Tok’ra offered a half bow of respect to them. “Colonel O’Neill, Teal’c, Master Bra’tac – it is good to see you. I am Sina, of the Tok’ra.”
“We’ve heard the name,” O’Neill commented, his voice harder than usual. “You don’t look anything like your photo.”
“Whatever you have is long out of date, Colonel,” the Tok’ra replied, half amused and half exhausted. “You and Teal’c likely know how much time has passed since that was taken.”
Teal’c raised his staff and rested the butt on the dirt floor of the tent. “O’Neill, if she is who she says she is…”
He heard the zat’nik’tel collapse. “She’ll know the answers to these questions.”
As O’Neill went through the questions, Bra’tac moved to Teal’c’s side, keeping his staff aimed at Sina. He whispered, “These questions are… suspiciously specific.”
“We were provided with information ahead of time,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the Tok’ra.
“Well, it seems like she’s who she says she is,” O’Neill finally announced, putting the paper back into his pocket and taking a look around. “So, what now?”
“The boy is suffering from what you call scarlet fever,” Sina informed them. “I will implant a Tok’ra prim’ta, then my escort will take the boy and his mother to his planet, where they will be beyond the grasp of any enemies.”
“What of the xenomorph-hybrids?” Teal’c asked, uncertain of where this Tok’ra’s loyalties lay. The last thing he wanted to do was trap his family on a planet controlled by anything related to those vicious creatures. “And why must my son have any prim’ta, even if it is the spawn of an enemy of the Goa’uld?
“Ah, the xeno-brids…” There was no mistaking the bitter tone in her voice. “My quote-unquote friends are not on this planet. Ensuring their good behavior has been one of the responsibilities I have assumed. As for the prim’ta… The boy has no immune system, as part of the Goa’uld’s intentional genetic modifications. He will die without a prim’ta or a medicine that serves the same function… but I cannot predict the future and guarantee that he will always have access to that medicine in the coming chaos.”
Teal’c mulled that over, and despite his great misgivings, could not find it in himself to take that sort of risk with his child’s life. He gritted his teeth, motioned for Bra’tac to lift his staff, and said only, “Proceed.”
Sina slowly pulled a small tube from inside her robes and clicked the top of it twice. “I have summoned my escort and your wife.” She placed the device on the table next to the symbiote jar, then proceeded with the preparations for the implantation.
Within a minute or two, his wife Drey’auc entered the tent, followed by an exasperated looking Jaffa with no tattoo on his forehead, with tan skin closely trimmed brown hair, and brown traveler’s robes. He paid the Jaffa little attention, focusing on his wife, who was clearly angry – at what or whom, he could not tell, but he expected to be on the receiving end of her tongue quite soon. She did not disappoint, saying “Why have you returned, Teal’c? Is it to drag us into your heresy?”
It was a great struggle to keep his voice under control, but he managed it. “My son will not be a slave, Drey'auc. He will taste freedom. As I have.” He paused and looked over at Rya’c, then looked back at her. “As will all Jaffa, once the Goa’uld have been defeated.”
“Freedom, Teal’c?” Drey’auc scoffed. “Your heresy is an abomination, Teal'c. Even by the outcasts I am shunned.” She cast a bitter glare at Sina and gestured at the tent. “Did you know that she has killed some of the priests to obtain these supplies?”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they were fated to die,” the Tok’ra casually replied as she placed the infant Tok’ra symbiote into Rya’c’s symbiote pouch. He took that to mean they were killed in the pastfuture, and that it made no difference if they died in the currentpresent. “I needed the tent to make sure you would find us.”
“Do you see what you have done? After all I have endured to convince the priests that we are still loyal, you have ensured we can never live here in peace. They were about to lift the banishment so that we could return to the city!”
It was at this point that the unmarked Jaffa spoke up. “And as I told you, the Sodan would take you in. We might not have any cities of splendor, like Chulak, but our villages are far better than this.”
Teal’c, Bra’tac, and O’Neill all turned as one towards the Jaffa.
“You are of the Sodan?” Bra’tac asked, astonishment leaking into the Jaffa Master’s voice, and Teal’c could not blame him for that. Not when they were face to face with a descendant of the first Jaffa rebels to live to tell that tale.
“I am Meker, of the Sodan,” the unmarked one replied, pride clearly in his voice. “For over five thousand years, no Sodan has been indentured to a Goa’uld.” He scowled at Sina. “However, we have made… accords with their rebels.”
“And you have profited handsomely for it,” Sina shot back as she passed a healing device over Rya’c. “A century or so with improved farming techniques and your population is actually growing.”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow at the Tau’ri-like banter between the Sodan and the Tok’ra, but said nothing.
“Well, that’s nice and all, but I get the feeling you two have a plan you’re not letting us in on,” O’Neill interjected.
“It begins, Colonel, with you contacting the rest of SG-1 and letting them know we’ll be coming.” Sina’s confidence in addressing O’Neill could be misread as arrogant presumption, and to a degree, it was, but it showed her knowledge of the Tau’ri. “I suspect that you have a second team as well, watching the chappa’ai, since you came prepared for the possibility of encountering the xeno-brids. You’ll want to let them know that they don’t need to worry about that.” She began gathering her things, then looked over at the colonel. “Would I be correct in assuming there are orders to bring me in, if possible?”
“That’s a pretty good assumption,” O’Neill replied, a slight smile on his face. “Are we that predictable?”
She rolled her eyes. “Colonel, the Tau’ri are anything but predictable. But you are sensible… most of the time.”
The Oval Office,
Washington D.C.
The leader of the free world, the president of the United States of America, took a half hour break for every three hours he worked… when possible. Sometimes, his schedule was too frenetic for that, but today was one of the better days. That was good, because his thoughts were often darker these days.
He considered the blue and cream rug with the presidential seal in the center, the walls covered with paintings of American presidents and landscapes. He ran his hand over the desk carved out of wood from a British ship, and gazed at the windows that looked out over the Rose Garden and the South Lawn. Then he pulled open on the drawers, pulled out a small bottle of Kentucky bourbon and a shot glass, and poured himself a shot.
He downed it all at once, rolling the bourbon in his mouth, feeling the burn for several long seconds before swallowing it.
Indulging like this during the working day was something he wasn’t a big fan of, but his burdens were so much greater these days.
It wasn’t the Stargate program and the fact that America was in conflict with an evil empire of space aliens, not any more. Time travel meant that the tools to ensure a victory at less cost of American lives and treasure had been dropped literally into his lap. But along with that was a new threat that had very little concrete details behind it so far… and what shitshow the future of America had turned out to be.
Donald J. Trump, real estate mogul and perennial media draw, had been elected president a little under 20 years into the future. As a career politician, the thought of someone that unpolished becoming president sent shivers down his spine… and yet, he knew for a fact that Donald Trump was a patriot. Someone who was in it just for the fame wouldn’t send a message to a would-be rival, laying out details of how America would slowly decline over the course of the next twenty years, as well as the keys to the solution.
Donald Trump had gotten to be president because the previous three men before him had failed to solve those problems, and Trump had promised to flip the table and clean house. And he’d done it, unraveling a tangled web of international conspiracies involving politicians, bureaucrats, intelligence agents, business moguls, and all sorts of other characters. It was mind-boggling and frightening in its scope and insidiousness, and the fact that even chipping away at it would almost certainly change the political landscape of America showed how much power was in the information Trump had provided.
There was a very real chance that if he got the ball rolling, Donald Trump would never become president, because some or none of those problems would exist. And while the current sitting president was completely fine with that, the problem was that Trump’s solution was not the right solution… in the currentpresent. Scorched earth tactics like that were more acceptable when everything was falling apart, but things were nowhere near that bad… yet.
Plus there was the fact that every president looked to get two-terms, and you didn’t tend to get to a second term by making tons of enemies within your own party.
However… there were possibilities. Building the infrastructure to build fusion reactors would be a massive undertaking, and combined with everything else the military wanted to defend against the Goa’uld… Well, FDR’s “arsenal of democracy” came to mind. And that gave him something to work with.
He reached back into the drawer for another shot of bourbon, along with a notepad, and sipped away as the puzzle pieces began moving in his mind…
Author's Notes: First major episode we're bumping into after the big time travel reveal. Like XSGCOM, if an episode more or less happens as per canon, it's just going to get a mention. You're all here for the big divergences, not the stuff that happens the same way because the galaxy is big and the butterfly effect wasn't big enough to alter things on Random Planet #234930.
The Sodan, despite being the OG rebel Jaffa, didn't show up until season 9 of SG-1, mostly because the writers hadn't thought them up until then. In-universe, it seemed like they were isolationists who didn't give a damn about events not on their planet. So the ultimate irony is that due to the temporal shenanigans, they got forced into being involved.
I felt a quick check-in with Stargate SG-1's never seen, unnamed president was necessary (and some of you wanted it) to set up big moves in the future. I figured that a neoliberal at the height of neoliberalism would be depressed that Donald Trump (who hadn't even started dabbling in politics in 1997!) could become president. But I also figured that politicians in that era were a bit more reasonable and could actually think things through more than not at all.
Stargate Command,
Cheyenne Mountain
September 1997
“So, uh, what’re Captain Carter and Dr. Jackson up to?” Lieutenant Daniel Johnson asked.
Teal’c contemplated the dark skinned Marine standing before him as he took a sip of coffee. Both SG-1 and SG-3 were assigned to this upcoming mission, which made him suspect his pastfuture self had asked a favor of General Hammond regarding his son, Ryac. This was about the time he would be implanted with a juvenile Goa’uld symbiote known as a prim’ta, which Teal’c naturally opposed.
“They have been spending time conversing with Dr. Littlefield about the Heliopolis site and his time amongst the Tollan,” the Jaffa replied. Colonel O’Neill had encouraged him to interact with the other SG team members more often, which was why he was engaging in what the Tau’ri called “small talk.” Jaffa tended not to do anything comparable outside of their barracks or meal halls, due to the risk of a Goa’uld taking offense.
“I thought he was still negotiating with that bigwig that flew in from Washington. Why’s he giving us any info?”
It took Teal’c a good second to parse the sentence and realize that Johnson was referring to the diplomat Joseph Faxon. If there was any one thing that annoyed him about living amongst the Tau’ri, it was the sheer amount of slang in their language. His consumption of Earth media exposed him to a wide variety of common words and phrases, but it was a monumental task to catch up and internalize it all.
“I believe it is a goodwill gesture. It is my understanding that none of the information is particularly confidential or dangerous.”
Before Johnson could ask another question, Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson entered the briefing room, and not long after that, General Hammond himself. All present took their seats, with SG-1 and SG-3 sitting on opposite sides of the table. Both colonels sat next to the general, with Teal’c sitting opposite Lt. Johnson.
The former First Prime picked up the briefing folder and opened it. He barely perceived Hammond’s words when the gate address caught his eye. “This is a high priority mission, which is why two SG teams are being deployed. Your destination is Chulak, and your objectives are as follows.
“First, SG-1 is to make contact with Teal’c’s mentor, Master Bra’tac. In the pastfuture, he plays a key role in establishing a Jaffa resistance movement, which we’ll need to encourage when the war with Sokar kicks off. Second, based on pastfuture intelligence, there may be samples of infant Goa’uld available for capture. Our scientists want some to verify the validity of the data we’ve gotten on Goa’uld biology. Third, potential evacuation of Teal’c’s dependents.” Hammond paused as everyone else looked at the stoic Jaffa. “Currentpresent Teal’c did not disclose this fact, but pastfuture Teal’c did and that currentpresent Teal’c was likely to reason that we would not trust him if he had disclosed that fact.”
Feeling the eyes of all present on him, Teal’c bowed his head in apology. “I believed that a warrior becomes vulnerable if his family is held hostage to the enemy. This is why I was not forthcoming.”
When he looked around the table, he saw mostly understanding faces, with Colonel Makepeace seeming particularly annoyed at the situation.
“Apology accepted,” Hammond said, turning the page on his own briefing folder. “The fourth objective is dependent on factors outside our control. But based on what little Langley has gleaned from the mountain of information we’ve dumped on them, there’s a decent chance the xenomorph-hybrids and/or their Tok’ra allies might be on-world waiting for you.” The general glanced over at Makepeace. “Hence the decision to make this another joint mission.”
“Sounds like someone is asleep on the job,” O’Neill commented, which received nods of agreement from SG-3. Teal’c was unfamiliar with the origins of the conflict between the Tau’ri military and intelligence branches, but as Apophis’ First Prime, he had been wary of the Goa’uld spies. It seemed some concepts were universal in nature, which was a source of an odd sort of comfort to him.
The general turned to SG-1’s commanding officer. “Colonel, do you have the slightest idea how much information you’ve dumped onto the plates of the analysts here and at Langley in the past month?” When O’Neill just grimaced, Hammond drove his point home with some choice words. “Major Samuels and the CIA are struggling to find enough analysts with the proper clearances to go through the literal mountain of intelligence and documentation you’ve brought in.”
“Message received sir,” the chagrined colonel replied.
“How you execute the fourth objective depends on the circumstances you find yourselves in,” the general redirected the briefing back onto the mission. “If you encounter the hybrids or the Tok’ra and hybrids operating together, and they are peaceful, you may communicate with them and encourage peaceful diplomatic interaction. But you are not to bring them to the SGC.” Flipping to a new page, Hammond took a quick look at the text before continuing. “If it’s just the Tok’ra, you are authorized to make peaceful contact, if possible. If not, you are authorized to capture them, using a Goa’uld stun weapon called a zat—“
“Zat’nik’tel,” Teal’c interjected with the pronunciation, having noticed that some of the Tau’ri had difficulty pronouncing Goa’uld terms. “One shot from the weapon will stun the target. Two shots will kill them.”
O’Neill looked up with interest, but before he could say anything, Hammond barreled on with the briefing. “Thank you, Teal’c. Langley’s hoping there’s a schism or distrust between the hybrids and the Tok’ra we can use to our advantage, which is why they’re willing to take the risk of bringing them back to Earth.”
“How’ll we be able to ID these Tok’ra if the hybrids aren’t there?” Lt. Johnson asked as Makepeace flipped through the folder.
“Unfortunately, based on information passed on by the Asgard, the Tok’ra switch hosts more often than the Goa’uld,” Hammond informed the junior officer. “The only way to suss them out is to ask about things only these rogue Tok’ra would know.” He lifted a piece of paper. “A list of questions has been provided for that purpose.”
The other members of the SG teams pulled the sheet out of their folders, folding and pocketing the document. Teal’c suspected he was not given a copy of his own, so he made no effort to follow suit.
“So, what’s the plan to get past the front door, sir?” O’Neill asked, lifting his chin in the direction of the stargate.
“You’re going in as a group of Jaffa priests and traders with a single warrior in escort,” the general announced. “Teal’c will be going in full armor, helmet included, which should get you past anyone at the gate. Once you’ve done that, SG-1 is to proceed to with the primary objectives, with SG-3 maintaining a watch on the gate and providing assistance as required.” Hammond turned to Colonel Makepeace. “You’re also the insurance policy in case anyone attempts to kidnap SG-1 and take them offworld.”
“Understood, sir.” Makepeace frowned as he reached the end of the folder. “Do we have any intel on what kind of gear these hybrids might be using? And what are our ROEs?”
“Unfortunately, the Asgard either didn’t provide any information on the hybrids’ military forces, or our analysts haven’t dug it up yet,” the general replied. “Your rules of engagement are as follows: do not fire unless fired upon. If possible, use non-lethal force, but lethal force is authorized for this mission.” He looked at both SG team leaders. “I trust you to make that judgment call as appropriate.”
“Yes sir!” both colonels replied.
“Dismissed.”
Both teams proceeded to the armory obtain their weapons for the mission. To Teal’c’s surprise, the pastfuture SGC had provided custom made holsters with the Zat’nik’tels they had provided, as well as a Jaffa armor gauntlet with a holster as well. His armor had not had the holster, due to the Apophis’ decree that his forces should crush all opposition to his host collecting expeditions.
Of course, it would have been far easier to accomplish that objective with zat’nik’tel equipped troops, but then Apophis wouldn’t have had the same show of force on the few primitive worlds he’d raided.
Teal’c picked up his staff weapon, then raised an eyebrow as one of SG-3’s Marines hefted a machine gun that looked nothing like the M249 machine gun that they had used on their previous mission with SG-1. This one had a top tray that extended over a longer receiver, with a shorter stock, pistol grip on a tube under the barrel, and a number of other differences that Teal’c could spot, but not articulate.
“M60E3,” the Marine explained. “Fires 7.62x51 rounds. Heavy as shit, but pretty close to the most firepower you can pack and still move quickly.”
“Good insurance in case those freaky xenomorph-hybrids show up,” Makepeace commented as he grabbed an XM177E1 carbine, which was an M16 variant with a two position collapsing stock and shortened barrel. “We can’t count on 5.56, 9 mil, or these zat things to penetrate any armor they might have.”
“In my experience, Jaffa armor does not defend against the energy of the zat’nik’tel,” Teal’c informed the Tau’ri around him. “There is a possibility that it can also defeat the armor of the hybrid creatures.”
“Well, let’s just hope we don’t have to find out the hard way,” O’Neill remarked as he examined one. “Now, how do you use these things?”
After a quick demonstration, the teams moved on to the locker room, where Teal’c donned his old Serpent Guard armor, while the Tau’ri donned priest and merchant robes over their uniforms and some of their tactical gear. The Marines piled some of their equipment into generic looking leather satchels that Teal’c assured them would stand up to casual scrutiny, only filling the bags halfway. The M60 was packed into a long, round leather bag that would hang from the shoulder, which might arise suspicion, but Teal’c had seen similar bags for tapestries, so he felt confident it would not draw too much attention.
In the gate room, he fought to calm himself as the chevrons locked, feeling a great weight on his shoulders. Perhaps he would have been slightly more at ease if it was merely SG-1 on this mission, who he had come to trust over these past few months. The presence of SG-3, not quite strangers, but not friends in the same way as SG-1, and the potential appearance of the xenomorph-hybrids, added complications that he had not foreseen for this task. He called on his years of training to center himself, in preparation for whatever lay on the other side.
It was fortunate that he had done so, for the priests on Chulak were present at the gate. He quickly intimidated them into allowing the group passage, and after a short march, the Tau’ri stripped off their robes, packing them into the leather bags, with the Marine hauling the M60 packing his into the now empty bag that had contained the machine gun. Teal’c was silently impressed by the improvisational nature of the solution – things like that would not have occurred to the average Jaffa soldier.
After allowing O’Neill to deal with the minutia of command, Teal’c led SG-1 towards his home, setting a steady pace even as his heart raced inside his chest. As soon as they could spot the small house, isolated in a small clearing, in the distance, the proud Jaffa warrior felt stirrings of fear the like he had never experienced before. When it became clear his home was nothing more than blackened ruins, the pounding his chest practically drowned out all other sounds.
And when he turned the corner to the back of the house, he fell to his knees and wept at the sight of sword with two Goa’uld rising from the hilt – the symbol of shol’va.
Teal’c was glad only SG-1 was here, for he knew they would not consider him lesser in their eyes. Others might not have been so considerate.
He could barely hear Daniel Jackson ask about the symbol, and his own answer sounded as if it were from a great distance. The rest of SG-1’s words of attempted comfort and reason were being drowned out by a growing flare of rage and anguish, and he stepped into the ruins of his home as much to vent his frustrations on the wreckage as to protect his comrades. It was only when he heard a familiar voice shout “Obi tan! Shree! Shree! Shree!” that he regained some of his composure.
When he stepped outside, he saw his mentor, Bra’tac, pointing a staff weapon in the face of O’Neill.
“Tek’ma’te Bra'tac.”
The grizzled Jaffa master looked over to him, then lowered his weapon. “Teal’c,” Bra’tac said, with the beginning of a smile on his face.
“It is good to see you, friend.” He embraced his mentor in an over the shoulder hug.
The elder Jaffa chided him. “Were I an enemy, you would be dead.”
“My wife and son.” Teal’c was aware his control was slipping as he said the words, but he knew neither Bra’tac nor SG-1 would judge him for it.
Bra’tac nodded. “I am told they escaped the burning.” Teal’c closed his eyes as a wave of relief coursed through him. “I thought you might return in time for your boy's ceremony, Teal'c. Brave, but unwise.”
“If you were awaiting my return, perhaps there are others?”
Teal’c’s hopes that the mission would be simple were dashed by his mentor’s next words. “A Goa’uld claiming to be of the Tok’ra arrived a week ago with a single Jaffa bodyguard. She seemed… peculiarly aware of my lack of loyalty to the Goa’uld.” When Teal’c shared a grim look with SG-1, Bra’tac added, “You were expecting this?”
“No,” was Teal’c honest reply. “But we were prepared for the possibility.” He then turned to introduce SG-1. Although Bra’tac had seen them in confinement in the court of Chulak, the Jaffa Master had yet to personally meet any of the Tau’ri. Thus Teal’c was unsurprised when Bra’tac immediately challenged them to get a sense of their mettle.
It was thus inevitable that Bra’tac and O’Neill got into a scuffle that ended with each man winding up in the dirt at some point. When it was all over, Bra’tac offered a hand to the colonel, and as he lifted him up, said “No one has ever defied the Goa'uld and lived to tell of it. There was much talk in Chulak of the warriors of Earth.”
“Glad to hear about that, but, uh…” O’Neill looked over to Teal’c, who nodded. “One very important question. Have you seen or heard about any weird people with pickle heads, tubes coming out of their backs, and spiky tails lurking about lately?”
Bra’tac looked over to Teal’c in confusion. “I am unfamiliar with that manner of creature.”
“That bodes well for our mission,” Teal’c informed him. “Our time here is limited. Can you take us to find my wife and son?”
“Your family is kreshta. Outcasts. The kreshta live in a handful of camps outside the city.” Bra’tac scowled. “The so-called Tok’ra provided me with the information about where they are. She is in one of the camps to the south, nearest the city.”
O’Neill turned to Carter and Daniel Jackson. “Captain, I want you and Daniel to link back up with SG-3. Grab one of Makepeace’s Marines, then execute the second objective.” The colonel looked at his watch. “If we don’t get back in touch in… six hours, get in touch with General Hammond and see how he wants to play this.”
“Yes, sir” was Carter’s reply.
“So much for being warriors of great skill and cunning,” Dr. Jackson commented as he handed back Teal’c’s staff before following Captain Carter back up the trail from the gate.
As O’Neill, Teal’c, and Bra’tac proceeded on their own march, Teal’c tuned out the back and forth between the colonel and the Jaffa Master for the most part. It was only when Bra’tac asked, “I am curious as to how this so-called Tok’ra learned of my opposition to the Goa’uld” that he returned his full attention to his companions. The former First Prime stopped and turned towards O’Neill, who grimaced and rubbed his chin as he tried to figure out what to do.
“Well… the thing is, we’re sworn to secrecy on this,” the colonel said slowly. “If the Goa’uld found out about this, it’d be a disaster… and since you’re living in Goa’uld controlled territory…”
“You do not trust me,” Bra’tac stated flatly.
“It is not a matter of trust,” Teal’c interjected, hoping to prevent a confrontation between the two. “O’Neill trusts me, and extends that trust to you. The answers you seek would ensure the Goa’uld would attempt to conquer or destroy their homeworld.”
“Teal’c, Apophis already intends to destroy their world,” Bra’tac announced, stepping forward to emphasize the point. “By avenging Ra’s death, he would prove himself superior to Heru’ur as successor to the post of Supreme System Lord.”
“Yes, well… I think we can handle one Goa’uld,” O’Neill replied, a slight smile on his face. “It’s just that if the Goa’uld know what we have, they’d all come at us at once, and unless the Asgard help us out, we’re not going to win that one.”
Bra’tac turned to the colonel. “You are allies of the Asgard?”
“I wouldn’t say allies just yet,” O’Neill corrected him. “We said ‘hi’, had a nice chat, and got an invitation to stop by if we needed help.”
Already growing impatient, Teal’c struck boldly to refocus the group on the objective. “Time grows short. We must keep moving.”
After about a half hour’s trek, they found themselves overlooking the camp, causing a wave of terror amongst the denizens, who fled into their tents or the woods. Teal’c paid no mind to this – his attention was focused on a tent made of finer fabrics on the far side of the camp. He raced down a path through the tent village, through the village itself, and into that tent, prepared to kill the priest that would dare make his son a slave to the Goa’uld.
He burst in, shouting “Priest! Stand—“
He paused, his certainty disrupted by the fact that while his son lay asleep on the ceremonial table, there was no Jaffa priest, just a middle-aged woman with pale skin, black hair with a prominent gray streak through one bang, and a blue traveler’s cloak sitting on a wooden stool. He could see a clear jar holding the prim’ta out of one corner of his eyes, but he swung his staff in her direction as she slowly stood up. Behind him, he heard the shifting of Bra’tac’s armor and O’Neill prime his zat’nik’tel.
Holding her empty hands out and to the sides, the supposed Tok’ra offered a half bow of respect to them. “Colonel O’Neill, Teal’c, Master Bra’tac – it is good to see you. I am Sina, of the Tok’ra.”
“We’ve heard the name,” O’Neill commented, his voice harder than usual. “You don’t look anything like your photo.”
“Whatever you have is long out of date, Colonel,” the Tok’ra replied, half amused and half exhausted. “You and Teal’c likely know how much time has passed since that was taken.”
Teal’c raised his staff and rested the butt on the dirt floor of the tent. “O’Neill, if she is who she says she is…”
He heard the zat’nik’tel collapse. “She’ll know the answers to these questions.”
As O’Neill went through the questions, Bra’tac moved to Teal’c’s side, keeping his staff aimed at Sina. He whispered, “These questions are… suspiciously specific.”
“We were provided with information ahead of time,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the Tok’ra.
“Well, it seems like she’s who she says she is,” O’Neill finally announced, putting the paper back into his pocket and taking a look around. “So, what now?”
“The boy is suffering from what you call scarlet fever,” Sina informed them. “I will implant a Tok’ra prim’ta, then my escort will take the boy and his mother to his planet, where they will be beyond the grasp of any enemies.”
“What of the xenomorph-hybrids?” Teal’c asked, uncertain of where this Tok’ra’s loyalties lay. The last thing he wanted to do was trap his family on a planet controlled by anything related to those vicious creatures. “And why must my son have any prim’ta, even if it is the spawn of an enemy of the Goa’uld?
“Ah, the xeno-brids…” There was no mistaking the bitter tone in her voice. “My quote-unquote friends are not on this planet. Ensuring their good behavior has been one of the responsibilities I have assumed. As for the prim’ta… The boy has no immune system, as part of the Goa’uld’s intentional genetic modifications. He will die without a prim’ta or a medicine that serves the same function… but I cannot predict the future and guarantee that he will always have access to that medicine in the coming chaos.”
Teal’c mulled that over, and despite his great misgivings, could not find it in himself to take that sort of risk with his child’s life. He gritted his teeth, motioned for Bra’tac to lift his staff, and said only, “Proceed.”
Sina slowly pulled a small tube from inside her robes and clicked the top of it twice. “I have summoned my escort and your wife.” She placed the device on the table next to the symbiote jar, then proceeded with the preparations for the implantation.
Within a minute or two, his wife Drey’auc entered the tent, followed by an exasperated looking Jaffa with no tattoo on his forehead, with tan skin closely trimmed brown hair, and brown traveler’s robes. He paid the Jaffa little attention, focusing on his wife, who was clearly angry – at what or whom, he could not tell, but he expected to be on the receiving end of her tongue quite soon. She did not disappoint, saying “Why have you returned, Teal’c? Is it to drag us into your heresy?”
It was a great struggle to keep his voice under control, but he managed it. “My son will not be a slave, Drey'auc. He will taste freedom. As I have.” He paused and looked over at Rya’c, then looked back at her. “As will all Jaffa, once the Goa’uld have been defeated.”
“Freedom, Teal’c?” Drey’auc scoffed. “Your heresy is an abomination, Teal'c. Even by the outcasts I am shunned.” She cast a bitter glare at Sina and gestured at the tent. “Did you know that she has killed some of the priests to obtain these supplies?”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure they were fated to die,” the Tok’ra casually replied as she placed the infant Tok’ra symbiote into Rya’c’s symbiote pouch. He took that to mean they were killed in the pastfuture, and that it made no difference if they died in the currentpresent. “I needed the tent to make sure you would find us.”
“Do you see what you have done? After all I have endured to convince the priests that we are still loyal, you have ensured we can never live here in peace. They were about to lift the banishment so that we could return to the city!”
It was at this point that the unmarked Jaffa spoke up. “And as I told you, the Sodan would take you in. We might not have any cities of splendor, like Chulak, but our villages are far better than this.”
Teal’c, Bra’tac, and O’Neill all turned as one towards the Jaffa.
“You are of the Sodan?” Bra’tac asked, astonishment leaking into the Jaffa Master’s voice, and Teal’c could not blame him for that. Not when they were face to face with a descendant of the first Jaffa rebels to live to tell that tale.
“I am Meker, of the Sodan,” the unmarked one replied, pride clearly in his voice. “For over five thousand years, no Sodan has been indentured to a Goa’uld.” He scowled at Sina. “However, we have made… accords with their rebels.”
“And you have profited handsomely for it,” Sina shot back as she passed a healing device over Rya’c. “A century or so with improved farming techniques and your population is actually growing.”
Teal’c raised an eyebrow at the Tau’ri-like banter between the Sodan and the Tok’ra, but said nothing.
“Well, that’s nice and all, but I get the feeling you two have a plan you’re not letting us in on,” O’Neill interjected.
“It begins, Colonel, with you contacting the rest of SG-1 and letting them know we’ll be coming.” Sina’s confidence in addressing O’Neill could be misread as arrogant presumption, and to a degree, it was, but it showed her knowledge of the Tau’ri. “I suspect that you have a second team as well, watching the chappa’ai, since you came prepared for the possibility of encountering the xeno-brids. You’ll want to let them know that they don’t need to worry about that.” She began gathering her things, then looked over at the colonel. “Would I be correct in assuming there are orders to bring me in, if possible?”
“That’s a pretty good assumption,” O’Neill replied, a slight smile on his face. “Are we that predictable?”
She rolled her eyes. “Colonel, the Tau’ri are anything but predictable. But you are sensible… most of the time.”
The Oval Office,
Washington D.C.
The leader of the free world, the president of the United States of America, took a half hour break for every three hours he worked… when possible. Sometimes, his schedule was too frenetic for that, but today was one of the better days. That was good, because his thoughts were often darker these days.
He considered the blue and cream rug with the presidential seal in the center, the walls covered with paintings of American presidents and landscapes. He ran his hand over the desk carved out of wood from a British ship, and gazed at the windows that looked out over the Rose Garden and the South Lawn. Then he pulled open on the drawers, pulled out a small bottle of Kentucky bourbon and a shot glass, and poured himself a shot.
He downed it all at once, rolling the bourbon in his mouth, feeling the burn for several long seconds before swallowing it.
Indulging like this during the working day was something he wasn’t a big fan of, but his burdens were so much greater these days.
It wasn’t the Stargate program and the fact that America was in conflict with an evil empire of space aliens, not any more. Time travel meant that the tools to ensure a victory at less cost of American lives and treasure had been dropped literally into his lap. But along with that was a new threat that had very little concrete details behind it so far… and what shitshow the future of America had turned out to be.
Donald J. Trump, real estate mogul and perennial media draw, had been elected president a little under 20 years into the future. As a career politician, the thought of someone that unpolished becoming president sent shivers down his spine… and yet, he knew for a fact that Donald Trump was a patriot. Someone who was in it just for the fame wouldn’t send a message to a would-be rival, laying out details of how America would slowly decline over the course of the next twenty years, as well as the keys to the solution.
Donald Trump had gotten to be president because the previous three men before him had failed to solve those problems, and Trump had promised to flip the table and clean house. And he’d done it, unraveling a tangled web of international conspiracies involving politicians, bureaucrats, intelligence agents, business moguls, and all sorts of other characters. It was mind-boggling and frightening in its scope and insidiousness, and the fact that even chipping away at it would almost certainly change the political landscape of America showed how much power was in the information Trump had provided.
There was a very real chance that if he got the ball rolling, Donald Trump would never become president, because some or none of those problems would exist. And while the current sitting president was completely fine with that, the problem was that Trump’s solution was not the right solution… in the currentpresent. Scorched earth tactics like that were more acceptable when everything was falling apart, but things were nowhere near that bad… yet.
Plus there was the fact that every president looked to get two-terms, and you didn’t tend to get to a second term by making tons of enemies within your own party.
However… there were possibilities. Building the infrastructure to build fusion reactors would be a massive undertaking, and combined with everything else the military wanted to defend against the Goa’uld… Well, FDR’s “arsenal of democracy” came to mind. And that gave him something to work with.
He reached back into the drawer for another shot of bourbon, along with a notepad, and sipped away as the puzzle pieces began moving in his mind…
Author's Notes: First major episode we're bumping into after the big time travel reveal. Like XSGCOM, if an episode more or less happens as per canon, it's just going to get a mention. You're all here for the big divergences, not the stuff that happens the same way because the galaxy is big and the butterfly effect wasn't big enough to alter things on Random Planet #234930.
The Sodan, despite being the OG rebel Jaffa, didn't show up until season 9 of SG-1, mostly because the writers hadn't thought them up until then. In-universe, it seemed like they were isolationists who didn't give a damn about events not on their planet. So the ultimate irony is that due to the temporal shenanigans, they got forced into being involved.
I felt a quick check-in with Stargate SG-1's never seen, unnamed president was necessary (and some of you wanted it) to set up big moves in the future. I figured that a neoliberal at the height of neoliberalism would be depressed that Donald Trump (who hadn't even started dabbling in politics in 1997!) could become president. But I also figured that politicians in that era were a bit more reasonable and could actually think things through more than not at all.
Fantastic update. Though I am saddened and disappointed by the lack of hysterical laughter and fits of distraught weeping at the thought of Donald Trump of all people becoming President. I guess TDS sufferers of today have really raised the bare when it came to open displays of insanity and despair that I've come to expect it as normal.
So, still getting caught up, but I noticed in pastfuture Carter's list of technologies and information, I didn't see any mention of the Ancient outpost under Antarctica.
Yeah, Authur's Mantle might be a better defense system in the long run, but getting the outpost online provides earth with an entirely viable defense system for at least 2 or 3 full scale assaults, provided the ZPM holds out and they don't use it for a trip to Atlantis.
Yeah, Authur's Mantle might be a better defense system in the long run, but getting the outpost online provides earth with an entirely viable defense system for at least 2 or 3 full scale assaults, provided the ZPM holds out and they don't use it for a trip to Atlantis.
I thought that one would be a given. Also the Taonas ZPM.
Currentpast 6
Currentpast 6
Glinson, Pangar
Milky Way Galaxy
July 1880
Two months’ time had produced some changes in the situation, but not as many as one would have thought.
As it turned out, one could not simply cut through multiple mountains with the supply of tunneling crystals on hand. There was simply too much mass to bore through, even factoring in using naquadah-potassium explosives. So a had been struck to have the Pangarans grow more crystals for the effort, while over a quarter of the Tok’ra supply was expended boring through a single mountain in two days.
On the other hand, it had gotten the xenomorph-hybrids out of the way, even if it required flying the Tel’tak to Hytheford on a weekly basis to acquire supplemental food supplies. Malek and Professor Sciara’s archeology team were now on the cusp of excavating Egeria’s canopic jar thanks to the greater freedom of movement and reduced safety concerns. That led to new problems relating to providing hosts for Egeria and her new offspring, but that was going to be part of the upcoming negotiations.
As Sina contemplated the large hall the talks were going to occur in, filled with Pangaran representatives of the three main nations, herself and Tartet, the xeno-brid queen and her husband, and an annoying amount of press. She had no idea why they were here, besides to capture the moment that new aliens stepped foot on their world. They had buzzed around the dignitaries like flies, asking questions both inane and reasonable, and it was a relief when they moved to the upper gallery to observe the proceedings.
The center of the hall was dominated by a long rectangular table, with enough space for a dozen people on each side. The head of the table was missing the chair, an apparent mistake, until the familiar tone and flash of an Asgard transporter appeared. Thor arrived in his command throne, but what shocked Sina was that one of the Nox was standing next to the Asgard.
“I am Thor, supreme commander of the Asgard fleet,” the diminutive gray alien introduced himself, ignoring the shock going through the Pangarans in the room. Motioning to the Nox, he added, “This is Ohper, of the Nox. He has agreed to serve as moderator for these negotiations.”
The male Nox gave them all broad smiles, his gaze lingering on Adriene Iseul Soares for a bit, before he proceeded to the other end of the table. For her part, the xenomorph-hybrid had an expression of curious confusion, as if she couldn’t quite understand what she was looking at. Does she have some sort of mental abilities? Sina wondered.
After the various delegates introduced themselves, Ohper opened the proceedings, managing to look distinguished despite his odd attire and outlandish hair. “Supreme Commander Thor, I recognize you as speaker.”
“Thank you.” Thor turned to face Soares. “The Asgard High Council will not allow you to permanently inhabit Pangar… or this galaxy.” The Asgard was stoic as Soares’ eyes widened in rage and her rose as if to strike the diminutive alien. Before that could happen, Thor touched a control on his throne and brought up a holographic display of a galaxy that was not the Milky Way. “However, if you are willing to abide by our terms until the defeat of the Goa’uld or the Earth year 2010, you will be allowed to colonize this galaxy instead.”
The xenomorph-hybrid queen froze, as if the shift from blinding rage to whatever it was she felt about the Asgard proposal had been too great for her brain to process. Her husband raised his hand, and after Ohper acknowledged him, Emilio Soares asked a simple question. “Excuse me, Supreme Commander. Are you saying we get the entire galaxy?”
“Correct.” Thor manipulated the hologram, and Sina shared a glance with Tartet as they realized what the Asgard plan was as multiple galaxies whizzed by. The ninth chevron – they intend to strand them on the other side of the universe! Sina had no idea how they intended to transport the creatures’ colony ship, but she didn’t doubt that some kind of advanced science would be used to do it. “An entire galaxy with a first generation stargate network, with an Ancient exploration vessel to serve as a beachhead.”
His wife shook off whatever mental fog that had come over her, and started to speak, stopping when Emilio placed his hand on her arm. “What are the High Council’s terms?”
Thor stared at them for several long seconds, giving them a slow blink, before speaking. “So long as you do not construct interstellar spacecraft, integrate yourselves into the populations and government of the planet, undermine said governments, and conduct operations through the stargate without permission of the Asgard or the Tok’ra.” He paused long enough for them to absorb the demands, then continued. “In exchange, the Asgard will place Pangar under its strategic umbrella, to use an Earth term you may be familiar with. In addition, you will be allowed to develop the necessary infrastructure to produce supplies and equipment necessary for your colonization efforts. The details, of course, are to be negotiated.”
This seemed to mollify the hybrid queen, who lowered her tail and nodded.
Thor then turned towards the Tok’ra. “As for the Tok’ra… The High Council cannot deny the debt we owe you… but we cannot ignore your role in the current situation. As a result, we are placing the oversight role on your shoulders. You will also be barred from constructing interstellar craft on this world, nor will you be allowed to create a Jaffa population.”
Sina nodded gravely, but smiled internally. It was simple to comply with the latter of the Asgard’s demands – there was a suitable population of rebel Jaffa that would easily fill that role. The former was more of a challenge, but she suspected there were some concessions that could be made.
“Regarding the Pangaran people,” Thor said, turning to the three delegates. “The Asgard will provide each of your nations with the means to communicate directly with the High Council should either or both of the other two parties in these negotiations renege on their promises.” He narrowed his eyes at the humans, who seemed discomforted by the small alien’s stern expression. “Should you abuse this privilege, there will be consequences.”
She glanced around the room, looking for the intelligence contacts she’d made at that first meeting with the Pangarans. Having as many lines of communication as possible would prevent Pangaran paranoia from escalating to the point that the Asgard would be drawn in, as well as keep the various Pangaran factions from thinking the Tok’ra were playing favorites. The hill to climb was already large enough that Sina and Tartet had elected to use themselves as sacrificial pawns, if necessary. Disassociating Egeria from any and all potentially unpopular diplomatic decisions here would only strengthen her position.
Finally, Thor turned his attention to the Nox moderator. “That completes the Asgard proposal.”
An awkward silence ensued, broken by Opher spreading his hands wide and asking, “Who wishes to go first?”
Asgard Cruiser Beliskner,
Pangar Orbit
Hours later, Thor and Ohper materialized inside of a large compartment, spanning two decks in height and a third of the ship’s width. Rows upon rows of verdant plant life filled the compartment, with Asgard on hover platforms and anti-gravity drones handling tasks more complicated than the drip feeding of water and nutrients. Stepping out of his command throne, the supreme commander of the Asgard fleet pressed a finger against a button that would beam the throne to the bridge.
“I believe this is the first time you have had the pleasure of being aboard an Asgard cruiser,” Thor remarked to the taller Nox, who was looking around and smiling in appreciation of the greenery. “The arboretum plays a special role in maintaining crew morale during long missions, as well as helping soothe our minds in troubled times.”
Ohper stopped and looked at Thor in concern. “Have the scars of your war with the Replicators still not healed?”
“They heal slower than one would like,” the Asgard replied, motioning for them to walk through the massive space. Thor led them towards a small clearing, where several unoccupied benches capped rows of hydroponics equipment. It was one of many spaces where Asgard crew members could relax together, something that was more frequent in the post-Replicator era, where skeleton crews were no longer best practice. “But sometimes the problems of the present also call for a soothing environment to clear the mind.”
Sitting down next to Thor on the same bench, Ohper nodded. “Such as the negotiations?”
“Yes,” Thor said. “The High Council is… burdened with certain knowledge regarding the lifeforms known as xenomorph-hybrids, which is why the Nox were invited to serve as mediators. We know too much to be unbiased, but we do not wish to be unfair by denying them the opportunity to prove themselves, based on pre-judgments made from data divorced from context.”
Ohper was silent for a long moment, before asking, “Then why was the Asgard position so… harsh?”
“As a deterrent,” the supreme commander bluntly replied. “We know from experience that morality and principles only matter so long as the survival of civilization and species is assured. Their genes tell them that anything that curtails their growth is a threat.”
“So you reframed things by offering them unlimited growth as a reward for cooperation,” the Nox said in understanding. “Their own behavior and deeds become what determines their fate, and the existential threat becomes an internal one.”
“Precisely.”
“I do not understand why you seek to send them to another galaxy, on the other side of the universe.” Ohper held up a hand, asking Thor to wait before responding. “You clearly seem to think that, for whatever reason, they cannot peacefully coexist with the inhabitants of this galaxy. Why send them to another galaxy, then? Surely they would come into conflict with anyone living there.”
Thor lowered his head slightly in reluctance and shame. “That is because we do know much about the xenomorph-hybrids. Their creation was, in small part, an overcorrection for societal trends on the human planet Earth. But the end result is a species that will inevitably come into conflict with the other sapient species currently inhabiting this galaxy. As far as we know, their destination galaxy has no confirmed native sapient species. Therefore, it is a simple, easy solution.” Now Thor looked up. “There is also the fact that, aside from a ship that dates back to before the construction of Atlantis, there is nothing of value to be lost.”
Frowning, Ohper considered that for a few seconds. “That… does not seem like an Asgard solution.”
“The initial concept came from the Fifth Race,” Thor admitted. “We settled on the implementation after researching the xenomorph-hybrids and the information the Fifth Race provided us. There was consideration of letting them settle in the Pegasus galaxy, but there are too many races with interstellar hyperdrive technology there.”
“Ah,” the Nox looked at Thor curiously. “You will still not tell us of the Fifth Race?”
“Not until the appropriate time,” the supreme commander replied. “Things must unfold in certain ways, and until the right moment arrives, we must keep some secrets to ourselves.” He did his best Asgard scowl. “Unfortunately, ensuring the Ascended do not get involved has made this necessary.”
Now it was the Nox’s turn to frown. “I thought the Ascended were committed to a non-interference policy.”
“They are,” Thor bitterly remarked. “But in this case, that policy is responsible for untold deaths and destruction, and they are unlikely to reconsider their stance in this specific circumstance.”
“And I presume that you cannot explain why until the appropriate time.”
“No.” Deliberately changing the topic, Thor added, “There is another reason why a Nox was chosen for the role of mediator.”
Opher waited, his expression openly curious and expectant.
“The Nox have the gift of sensing the shape of a mind,” the Asgard admitted. “The High Council and I know much about the biology of the xenomorph-hybrids, but we do not know them as people. I ask for your help in understanding them as such.”
Ohper nodded, then closed his eyes, losing himself in thought. Thor was unbothered by this – this always happened when the Nox were asked to convey deeply complex matters of the mind to non-telepaths. He waited patiently, but a dark part of his mind never stopped worrying. It was the part that had been cultivated over the millennia of service in the fleet, the part that helped him rise to the role of Supreme Commander. It was the part that told him that it was not too late to simply wipe out the hybrid creatures and be done with the whole problem.
“They are at once simple and complex,” Ohper announced as his eyes snapped open. “Their drives are simple – a longing for family and an… all-consuming affection for humanity. They desperately desire to be accepted, and will do anything to please the Pangarans.” He paused, his face mournful as he considered his next words. “I do not think they can handle rejection well – they are amazingly sensitive, much like us. But the most concerning thing about them is that they do not experience fear as we know it.”
Thor simply waited for an explanation.
“I am not certain that they cannot experience fear,” Ohper added. “But one would’ve expected fear in response to your threats. Instead, the reaction was purely anger. That level of hostility is quite unusual, and an unaware mind might make a poor decision because they do not expect it.”
“That is not a great surprise,” Thor replied, “given the genetic makeup and behavior of the original xenomorph creatures. The question is whether their ability to reason can overcome such strong genetic predispositions.”
There was another long pause as the Nox considered the problem.
“I would think they can be trusted to keep their word, especially in this situation, where their continued existence depends on it,” Ohper said slowly. “But that is something that only be proven over time.”
In the aftermath of the Replicator War, the Asgard High Council had constructed a super computer complex at the edge of their homeworld’s solar system, designed and constructed with the best of the limited amount of future technology they could build at the time. To cap it off, the complex was encased in a time dilation field set to accelerate the passage of time within the bubble. Running a variety of programs and algorithms, including a simulated version of the Replicator base programming, its aim was to ensure Asgard technology continued to advance and adapt, despite the lack of existential pressures acting upon them.
Simulations regarding the xenomorph-hybrids were already underway, but only the worst case scenarios were deemed to be in any way accurate. Without actual data on how they behaved, all projections were based on what could be extrapolated from the data pulled from their colonization ship. And that data was not particularly useful for projecting behavior beyond the steps they would take to colonize decently urbanized planets.
Planets like Earth, for example.
“That is what concerns the High Council,” Thor admitted in a sweeping understatement of their feelings. “Especially given the potential negative consequences of changing the course of events in unforeseen ways.”
The High Council didn’t need any problems caused by the hybrids, at least not until the humans of Earth killed Ra. Not when they were already planning to deal with Anubis, the half-ascend Goa’uld that the Ascended had sent back to the corporeal plane for whatever reason. Between him and Sokar, two Goa’uld known for their disregard for life and a penchant for atrocities, the projections for the upcoming Goa’uld war were already grim. The silver lining was that none of these projections factored in the effect the humans of Earth would have, mostly because trying to predict their situational improvisations would require a thorough understanding of their primitive ways of thinking.
“So, what will you do?”
Thor had asked himself the same question from the moment he had been assigned the task of handling the xenomorph-hybrid affair. After long consideration, there was only one answer. “Give them every chance to prove themselves. And if they prove unworthy of trust… eliminate them.”
Author's Notes: Been a while since I've updated, but I'm planning to get at least one more chapter out before the end of the year. The next one is going to be a beefy Currentpresent chapter.
If anyone is having a hard time remembering the Nox, I don't blame you. They only showed up in two episodes, with one of them being a season 1 episode, despite them being part of the Alliance with the Ancients, Furlings (who we never got to see), and the Asgard. Since they're still around, I felt having them show up to be the mediators was a good idea.
Glinson, Pangar
Milky Way Galaxy
July 1880
Two months’ time had produced some changes in the situation, but not as many as one would have thought.
As it turned out, one could not simply cut through multiple mountains with the supply of tunneling crystals on hand. There was simply too much mass to bore through, even factoring in using naquadah-potassium explosives. So a had been struck to have the Pangarans grow more crystals for the effort, while over a quarter of the Tok’ra supply was expended boring through a single mountain in two days.
On the other hand, it had gotten the xenomorph-hybrids out of the way, even if it required flying the Tel’tak to Hytheford on a weekly basis to acquire supplemental food supplies. Malek and Professor Sciara’s archeology team were now on the cusp of excavating Egeria’s canopic jar thanks to the greater freedom of movement and reduced safety concerns. That led to new problems relating to providing hosts for Egeria and her new offspring, but that was going to be part of the upcoming negotiations.
As Sina contemplated the large hall the talks were going to occur in, filled with Pangaran representatives of the three main nations, herself and Tartet, the xeno-brid queen and her husband, and an annoying amount of press. She had no idea why they were here, besides to capture the moment that new aliens stepped foot on their world. They had buzzed around the dignitaries like flies, asking questions both inane and reasonable, and it was a relief when they moved to the upper gallery to observe the proceedings.
The center of the hall was dominated by a long rectangular table, with enough space for a dozen people on each side. The head of the table was missing the chair, an apparent mistake, until the familiar tone and flash of an Asgard transporter appeared. Thor arrived in his command throne, but what shocked Sina was that one of the Nox was standing next to the Asgard.
“I am Thor, supreme commander of the Asgard fleet,” the diminutive gray alien introduced himself, ignoring the shock going through the Pangarans in the room. Motioning to the Nox, he added, “This is Ohper, of the Nox. He has agreed to serve as moderator for these negotiations.”
The male Nox gave them all broad smiles, his gaze lingering on Adriene Iseul Soares for a bit, before he proceeded to the other end of the table. For her part, the xenomorph-hybrid had an expression of curious confusion, as if she couldn’t quite understand what she was looking at. Does she have some sort of mental abilities? Sina wondered.
After the various delegates introduced themselves, Ohper opened the proceedings, managing to look distinguished despite his odd attire and outlandish hair. “Supreme Commander Thor, I recognize you as speaker.”
“Thank you.” Thor turned to face Soares. “The Asgard High Council will not allow you to permanently inhabit Pangar… or this galaxy.” The Asgard was stoic as Soares’ eyes widened in rage and her rose as if to strike the diminutive alien. Before that could happen, Thor touched a control on his throne and brought up a holographic display of a galaxy that was not the Milky Way. “However, if you are willing to abide by our terms until the defeat of the Goa’uld or the Earth year 2010, you will be allowed to colonize this galaxy instead.”
The xenomorph-hybrid queen froze, as if the shift from blinding rage to whatever it was she felt about the Asgard proposal had been too great for her brain to process. Her husband raised his hand, and after Ohper acknowledged him, Emilio Soares asked a simple question. “Excuse me, Supreme Commander. Are you saying we get the entire galaxy?”
“Correct.” Thor manipulated the hologram, and Sina shared a glance with Tartet as they realized what the Asgard plan was as multiple galaxies whizzed by. The ninth chevron – they intend to strand them on the other side of the universe! Sina had no idea how they intended to transport the creatures’ colony ship, but she didn’t doubt that some kind of advanced science would be used to do it. “An entire galaxy with a first generation stargate network, with an Ancient exploration vessel to serve as a beachhead.”
His wife shook off whatever mental fog that had come over her, and started to speak, stopping when Emilio placed his hand on her arm. “What are the High Council’s terms?”
Thor stared at them for several long seconds, giving them a slow blink, before speaking. “So long as you do not construct interstellar spacecraft, integrate yourselves into the populations and government of the planet, undermine said governments, and conduct operations through the stargate without permission of the Asgard or the Tok’ra.” He paused long enough for them to absorb the demands, then continued. “In exchange, the Asgard will place Pangar under its strategic umbrella, to use an Earth term you may be familiar with. In addition, you will be allowed to develop the necessary infrastructure to produce supplies and equipment necessary for your colonization efforts. The details, of course, are to be negotiated.”
This seemed to mollify the hybrid queen, who lowered her tail and nodded.
Thor then turned towards the Tok’ra. “As for the Tok’ra… The High Council cannot deny the debt we owe you… but we cannot ignore your role in the current situation. As a result, we are placing the oversight role on your shoulders. You will also be barred from constructing interstellar craft on this world, nor will you be allowed to create a Jaffa population.”
Sina nodded gravely, but smiled internally. It was simple to comply with the latter of the Asgard’s demands – there was a suitable population of rebel Jaffa that would easily fill that role. The former was more of a challenge, but she suspected there were some concessions that could be made.
“Regarding the Pangaran people,” Thor said, turning to the three delegates. “The Asgard will provide each of your nations with the means to communicate directly with the High Council should either or both of the other two parties in these negotiations renege on their promises.” He narrowed his eyes at the humans, who seemed discomforted by the small alien’s stern expression. “Should you abuse this privilege, there will be consequences.”
She glanced around the room, looking for the intelligence contacts she’d made at that first meeting with the Pangarans. Having as many lines of communication as possible would prevent Pangaran paranoia from escalating to the point that the Asgard would be drawn in, as well as keep the various Pangaran factions from thinking the Tok’ra were playing favorites. The hill to climb was already large enough that Sina and Tartet had elected to use themselves as sacrificial pawns, if necessary. Disassociating Egeria from any and all potentially unpopular diplomatic decisions here would only strengthen her position.
Finally, Thor turned his attention to the Nox moderator. “That completes the Asgard proposal.”
An awkward silence ensued, broken by Opher spreading his hands wide and asking, “Who wishes to go first?”
Asgard Cruiser Beliskner,
Pangar Orbit
Hours later, Thor and Ohper materialized inside of a large compartment, spanning two decks in height and a third of the ship’s width. Rows upon rows of verdant plant life filled the compartment, with Asgard on hover platforms and anti-gravity drones handling tasks more complicated than the drip feeding of water and nutrients. Stepping out of his command throne, the supreme commander of the Asgard fleet pressed a finger against a button that would beam the throne to the bridge.
“I believe this is the first time you have had the pleasure of being aboard an Asgard cruiser,” Thor remarked to the taller Nox, who was looking around and smiling in appreciation of the greenery. “The arboretum plays a special role in maintaining crew morale during long missions, as well as helping soothe our minds in troubled times.”
Ohper stopped and looked at Thor in concern. “Have the scars of your war with the Replicators still not healed?”
“They heal slower than one would like,” the Asgard replied, motioning for them to walk through the massive space. Thor led them towards a small clearing, where several unoccupied benches capped rows of hydroponics equipment. It was one of many spaces where Asgard crew members could relax together, something that was more frequent in the post-Replicator era, where skeleton crews were no longer best practice. “But sometimes the problems of the present also call for a soothing environment to clear the mind.”
Sitting down next to Thor on the same bench, Ohper nodded. “Such as the negotiations?”
“Yes,” Thor said. “The High Council is… burdened with certain knowledge regarding the lifeforms known as xenomorph-hybrids, which is why the Nox were invited to serve as mediators. We know too much to be unbiased, but we do not wish to be unfair by denying them the opportunity to prove themselves, based on pre-judgments made from data divorced from context.”
Ohper was silent for a long moment, before asking, “Then why was the Asgard position so… harsh?”
“As a deterrent,” the supreme commander bluntly replied. “We know from experience that morality and principles only matter so long as the survival of civilization and species is assured. Their genes tell them that anything that curtails their growth is a threat.”
“So you reframed things by offering them unlimited growth as a reward for cooperation,” the Nox said in understanding. “Their own behavior and deeds become what determines their fate, and the existential threat becomes an internal one.”
“Precisely.”
“I do not understand why you seek to send them to another galaxy, on the other side of the universe.” Ohper held up a hand, asking Thor to wait before responding. “You clearly seem to think that, for whatever reason, they cannot peacefully coexist with the inhabitants of this galaxy. Why send them to another galaxy, then? Surely they would come into conflict with anyone living there.”
Thor lowered his head slightly in reluctance and shame. “That is because we do know much about the xenomorph-hybrids. Their creation was, in small part, an overcorrection for societal trends on the human planet Earth. But the end result is a species that will inevitably come into conflict with the other sapient species currently inhabiting this galaxy. As far as we know, their destination galaxy has no confirmed native sapient species. Therefore, it is a simple, easy solution.” Now Thor looked up. “There is also the fact that, aside from a ship that dates back to before the construction of Atlantis, there is nothing of value to be lost.”
Frowning, Ohper considered that for a few seconds. “That… does not seem like an Asgard solution.”
“The initial concept came from the Fifth Race,” Thor admitted. “We settled on the implementation after researching the xenomorph-hybrids and the information the Fifth Race provided us. There was consideration of letting them settle in the Pegasus galaxy, but there are too many races with interstellar hyperdrive technology there.”
“Ah,” the Nox looked at Thor curiously. “You will still not tell us of the Fifth Race?”
“Not until the appropriate time,” the supreme commander replied. “Things must unfold in certain ways, and until the right moment arrives, we must keep some secrets to ourselves.” He did his best Asgard scowl. “Unfortunately, ensuring the Ascended do not get involved has made this necessary.”
Now it was the Nox’s turn to frown. “I thought the Ascended were committed to a non-interference policy.”
“They are,” Thor bitterly remarked. “But in this case, that policy is responsible for untold deaths and destruction, and they are unlikely to reconsider their stance in this specific circumstance.”
“And I presume that you cannot explain why until the appropriate time.”
“No.” Deliberately changing the topic, Thor added, “There is another reason why a Nox was chosen for the role of mediator.”
Opher waited, his expression openly curious and expectant.
“The Nox have the gift of sensing the shape of a mind,” the Asgard admitted. “The High Council and I know much about the biology of the xenomorph-hybrids, but we do not know them as people. I ask for your help in understanding them as such.”
Ohper nodded, then closed his eyes, losing himself in thought. Thor was unbothered by this – this always happened when the Nox were asked to convey deeply complex matters of the mind to non-telepaths. He waited patiently, but a dark part of his mind never stopped worrying. It was the part that had been cultivated over the millennia of service in the fleet, the part that helped him rise to the role of Supreme Commander. It was the part that told him that it was not too late to simply wipe out the hybrid creatures and be done with the whole problem.
“They are at once simple and complex,” Ohper announced as his eyes snapped open. “Their drives are simple – a longing for family and an… all-consuming affection for humanity. They desperately desire to be accepted, and will do anything to please the Pangarans.” He paused, his face mournful as he considered his next words. “I do not think they can handle rejection well – they are amazingly sensitive, much like us. But the most concerning thing about them is that they do not experience fear as we know it.”
Thor simply waited for an explanation.
“I am not certain that they cannot experience fear,” Ohper added. “But one would’ve expected fear in response to your threats. Instead, the reaction was purely anger. That level of hostility is quite unusual, and an unaware mind might make a poor decision because they do not expect it.”
“That is not a great surprise,” Thor replied, “given the genetic makeup and behavior of the original xenomorph creatures. The question is whether their ability to reason can overcome such strong genetic predispositions.”
There was another long pause as the Nox considered the problem.
“I would think they can be trusted to keep their word, especially in this situation, where their continued existence depends on it,” Ohper said slowly. “But that is something that only be proven over time.”
In the aftermath of the Replicator War, the Asgard High Council had constructed a super computer complex at the edge of their homeworld’s solar system, designed and constructed with the best of the limited amount of future technology they could build at the time. To cap it off, the complex was encased in a time dilation field set to accelerate the passage of time within the bubble. Running a variety of programs and algorithms, including a simulated version of the Replicator base programming, its aim was to ensure Asgard technology continued to advance and adapt, despite the lack of existential pressures acting upon them.
Simulations regarding the xenomorph-hybrids were already underway, but only the worst case scenarios were deemed to be in any way accurate. Without actual data on how they behaved, all projections were based on what could be extrapolated from the data pulled from their colonization ship. And that data was not particularly useful for projecting behavior beyond the steps they would take to colonize decently urbanized planets.
Planets like Earth, for example.
“That is what concerns the High Council,” Thor admitted in a sweeping understatement of their feelings. “Especially given the potential negative consequences of changing the course of events in unforeseen ways.”
The High Council didn’t need any problems caused by the hybrids, at least not until the humans of Earth killed Ra. Not when they were already planning to deal with Anubis, the half-ascend Goa’uld that the Ascended had sent back to the corporeal plane for whatever reason. Between him and Sokar, two Goa’uld known for their disregard for life and a penchant for atrocities, the projections for the upcoming Goa’uld war were already grim. The silver lining was that none of these projections factored in the effect the humans of Earth would have, mostly because trying to predict their situational improvisations would require a thorough understanding of their primitive ways of thinking.
“So, what will you do?”
Thor had asked himself the same question from the moment he had been assigned the task of handling the xenomorph-hybrid affair. After long consideration, there was only one answer. “Give them every chance to prove themselves. And if they prove unworthy of trust… eliminate them.”
Author's Notes: Been a while since I've updated, but I'm planning to get at least one more chapter out before the end of the year. The next one is going to be a beefy Currentpresent chapter.
If anyone is having a hard time remembering the Nox, I don't blame you. They only showed up in two episodes, with one of them being a season 1 episode, despite them being part of the Alliance with the Ancients, Furlings (who we never got to see), and the Asgard. Since they're still around, I felt having them show up to be the mediators was a good idea.
I hope they do destroy the hybrids. The hybrids are parasites, genetically hardwired murderous, sociopathic parasites. Who have no qualms at acting out their deranged stalker fantasies by murdering any woman who look at a man they want. They are humanoid Cuckoos programmed for aggressive genetic assimilation. A Scifi recreation of the favored Chinese approach to eliminating conquered ethnicities.