TITLE: Spearhead: Homefront Pt 1
AUTHOR: Andrew Seivewright
EMAIL: [email protected]
CATEGORY: action/adventure, future
SPOILERS:
SEASON / SEQUEL: Spearhead Trilogy; Spearhead: Evolution
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: PG-13
SUMMARY: The war is beginning to heat up...The SGC and Spearhead have been stood alone up this point but now, the general public are aware of the Stargate and the Goa'uld threat...the armies of Earth are mobilizing to counter this alien threat but can they put aside hundreds of years of disagreements so easily?
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well this is a little different from the usual Spearhead stories...the fights and battles take second seat to the increasing problems back on Earth and thus, some people may find this a switch from my usual style of story - hopefully, you will find this a good thing.

Spearhead: Homefront - Part 1

Cast

Earth

Robert Kinsey President, United States
General Stuart Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, US Army
Lieutenant General Hammond CINC-SGC(West), Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, USA
Lieutenant General Jake McAuley Commander, I Corp, Fort Lewis, Washington State, USA

Wing Commander Paul Mallory Senior Instructor, Defense Squadron Training Command, RAF Mildenhall, England
Squadron Leader Tony Wilkins CO, Defense Squadron 1, Eglin AFB, Florida, USA

General Lieutenant Alexander Kuryakin CINC-SGC(East), 'Bright Sword' Facility, Khabarovsk, Russia
Colonel Ivan Yakov 2IC
Colonel Lt Alexi Sulakov Operations Commander

Spearhead

Brigadier General O'Neill CO of Spearhead
Colonel Carter 2IC

Asgard

Thor Commander Of The Fleet
Odin Sub-Commander

Chapter 1
Going Public...

May 8th, 2004

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States..."

President Kinsey stepped up to the podium, a grim smile on his face as the White House Press Corp shifted anxiously in their seats. Kinsey wasn't sure how his Chief Of Staff had managed it but he had. The Press knew absolutely nothing about what he was about to tell them. Not one leak, not one rumor had left the White House about the revelations he was about to convey. Half of his staff was convinced that the Press would refuse to believe it, that they would think it was one big joke...well, they'd soon come around. He placed his cue cards on the lectern, took a deep breath and began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you today to reveal one of this nations most closely guarded secrets. A secret that threatens not only America, but every living thing on this planet. I understand it may be difficult but I ask that you withhold your questions until the end of this presentation, so please, bear with me."

As he paused, a display screen lowered smoothly beside him and it flickered slightly as it activated and showed to the entire world, the discovery that had proved to be such a boon and a curse...

"The Stargate, ladies and gentlemen...an ancient device that allows instantaneous interstellar transport between worlds and it exists here, today. We've used it, it works."

The display showed the Stargate exploding into life and pull back to form the event horizon. The Press Corp sat dumbfounded as the display showed the SGC soldiers march into the event horizon and disappear. The camera view jerked slightly as the cameraman walked up the ramp and straight into the event horizon as well. As the screen flared into static, Kinsey smiled slightly.

"The Stargate is part of a network of other Stargates on other worlds and other Galaxies, each connected to another by a wormhole..."

The displayed flared again as the static disappeared and the image returned but this time, on the other side of the wormhole. The Press could clearly see the soldiers who had disappeared into the Stargate moments before. One of them laughed at the camera and pointed behind the cameraman, high into the sky. The camera view whipped round quickly and the Press Corp gasped as a ringed gas giant, much like Saturn, was rising above the wooded horizon, dominating the skyline.

"Ladies and gentleman, there are literally millions of worlds out there and yes, we have run into other life, alien life." He concluded grimly. That should send the conspiracy nuts through the roof, the President of the United States admitting to the Government knowing and suppressing knowledge of alien life? Holy shit!!

He shook his head slightly and continued. "We've made some friends out there but unfortunately, we also have some enemies. To explain about the enemy, it will be necessary to go back in time, not only to the discovery of the Stargate, but further back to a time of myth and legend..."

"It all began in ancient Egypt, 10,000 years ago..."

06:34 ZULU
September 18th, 2005

WORMHOLE DISENGAGED!

As the wormhole collapsed, Colonel Lewis sighed tiredly. SG-Alpha had been playing hide and seek with several angry Jaffa Cohorts for the past two weeks and she was tired, filthy and ready to shoot anybody who got in the way of a long shower and a hot meal. The rest of her troops were just as tired, most were slumped against the four cargo containers they had hauled through the Stargate under fire and some were on the floor, too tired to move let alone take their sweat and dirt encrusted gear off. The only movement was from the Paveway technicians clearing and rearming the GAU-8's and M-60's. The gatling and machines guns were pointed upwards, smoke slowly drifting out of the barrels and open chambers. This was third time this month alone the Paveway system had been used. Lewis couldn't remember how they did things without it.

The huge display screen that hung on the wall, opposite the Stargate flickered to like and General O'Neill's smiling visage appeared, looking down on the SG-Alpha troops like some benevolent God. "Welcome back, SG-Alpha. Since you seem to have brought gifts, I'll assume the mission succeeded. I'm putting you all on stand down for the next week. Get some rest, you've all earned it."

Tired cheers came from exhausted soldiers as they though about the prospect of sleeping in a soft bed. Even a mil-spec bunk looks good compared to hard, scrub ground. O'Neill smirked slightly as he focused on the Colonel. "Lewis...I'm gonna need a debriefing before you start your stand-down bit I figure I can wait a few hours at the very least. Take a shower and get some hot food into ya and I'll see you when you feel more human."

As a stream of techs moved in to liberate the cargo containers from among her troops, Lewis grunted slightly as she saluted. "You got that right, General."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Two hours later, O'Neill was sat in his office doing the dreaded task of administrative paperwork. Endless streams of paperwork it seemed to him but he thanked whatever actual Gods existed because his command was at war and as a general rule of thumb, the paperwork was much reduced in a time of war. That was worth a soft snort as O'Neill tried to imagine the reams of paperwork a General officer would have to put up with in peacetime. He shivered slightly.

"Ready for that debrief now, General..." A warm, female contralto spoke from the open doorway. Colonel Lewis stood there, leaning against the frame. Her hair was still damp from the shower and hung limply against her head and her eyes were still underlined by dark rings but she still looked good. She held a large mug of coffee in both hands and had her PDA jammed under her right armpit.

O'Neill looked up, pleasantly surprised. "By all means, Colonel, by all means...sit down." He ordered, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

As Lewis made a controlled collapse into the chair, O'Neill grinned slightly. "You look like hell."

That earned him a glare from the female ex-Marine. "Y'all know how to make a gal feel good, sir..."

Suppressing the urge to laugh, O'Neill pushed his paperwork to one side and pulled out his PDA, ready to make notes. "Okay, Colonel...give me the overview of what happened out there."

Lewis took a sip of coffee and nodded. Picking up her PDA she began. "Alpha shipped out to P92-Y77 without incident. We encountered no Jaffa until about four klicks out from the Valley. When we hit the refining facility, everything went to hell in a hand basket. We had managed complete surprise but these Jaffa were good. They massed precisely and quickly and our assault went to shit pretty quickly. I lost fourteen people and we estimated maybe twenty, twenty-five Jaffa were killed."

O'Neill scribbled something on his PDA and frowned. "Base defenses?"

"Average although limited to ground installations and troops only. No Death Gliders or Motherships." She replied. "They had four of those buried cannon towers that popped up mid-battle and kept us pinned but good. We got two of them with the Jav's but the Jaffa seemed to hit the Javelin teams hard everytime they tried to pop up to shoot. I tell ya, it's getting harder and harder to fight these damn Jaffa grunts."

Frowning, O'Neill remembered his first introduction to the new and improved breed of Jaffa. "Their still not as good as one of our boys..."

"...but they're a damn sight better than the turkey shoot Jaffa we were fighting two years ago." Lewis finished. "Anyway, we finally punched through thanks to Captain Bannon who took her platoon and damned near committed suicide charging one of the intact towers. I'm recommending her for the Silver Star and the Bronze Star for the rest of her people, they done real good out there."

O'Neill nodded. "Approved."

She smiled briefly at her superior and relaxed in her chair, taking a sip of coffee before she continued. "Once we had broken their line of defense, we rolled 'em up like so much cheap carpet. We secured the refinery with minimal resistance and boogied outta there with those four containers, sixteen units of weapons-grade naquada in all."

"And then?" O'Neill asked softly, knowing this was where the plan fell apart.

Amanda sighed. "I'm almost positive it was a coincidence but at least three cohorts of Jaffa came through the goddamned Stargate while we were still a klick out. From what my point platoon reported, one of their Seconds tried to contact the refinery and when he got no reply, he probably guessed we had took it out." Her face tightened slightly. "They then spent the next twelve days trying to hunt us down."

O'Neill said nothing but from the look on her face, he knew that that short sentence didn't convey the constant pressure those pursuing Jaffa must have placed her and her people under. He'd been in her position before. As he watched, her face turned angry.

"We need help on this, sir!" She stated forcefully. "Since day one, we've known that all our assaults would be made through the Stargate and that if we got cut off from the Stargate, we'd be on our own but we've tried to ignore it."

She saw his face disagree and waved negatively. "I, oh know the techs have come up with some good stuff to help us out. Paveway saved our asses out there just like it saved yours way back when but the simple fact is, it's not good enough."

O'Neill studied her closely. Yes, she was angry but she had a right to be and it seemed she had given this a lot of thought. Probably twelve days worth, he admitted to himself sadly. "Okay, what've you got in mind?"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down slightly. "General, we need troop transports. Those Goa'uld Bombers we've been capturing would be a good start. If they could pull us off planets, it wouldn't matter whether we were cut off from the Stargate or not."

"You know we tried that before, Amanda." O'Neill replied, noncommittally.

Lewis nodded. "Yeah, the Bombers kept running into Motherships and Glider defenses but dammit, sir, we're building squadrons of our own fighters now. We've got over twenty Al'Kesh Bombers at the minute and they way I figure it, we're gonna be building our own Bombers and Transports pretty soon anyway."

O'Neill had to grin. "The designs for the 'Pegasus' bomber and 'Orca' transport are coming off the drawing boards now."

Unable to suppress a laugh at his wry grin, Lewis felt the last of her anger drain away. "Sir, we really need to think about reviving this idea. In the beginning, I admit, we weren't ready but now, I think we have the ships to fight past most of the defenses we might encounter and get the really tough jobs done."

Neither of them said anything for a while as they just thought about this escalation of hostilities. Ground combat's one thing, the SG team's have always outclassed the Jaffa in terms of ground fighting, even now. Space combat though. They've had their success, sure, but they had been damn lucky and how long could their luck last going toe to toe with Motherships on a regular basis.

"I'll have to think on this one, Colonel, and talk it over with CINC-SGC and the JCS. In the meantime, good work getting that naquada and have a full report on my desk by 11:00 tomorrow morning."

Colonel Lewis smiled. "Sir, yes, sir!"

She picked up her PDA and empty coffee mug and made for the door, before she left though she turned around. "General?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's Colonel Carter at? I figured she'd be here for this meeting."

O'Neill leaned back in his chair, not quite ready to get back into his paperwork just yet. "Oh, she and Shiv headed back to Earth just after a week you went on your little sojourn. Shiv's gone out with SG-9 to open formal diplomatic relations with about half a dozen worlds he though would make ideal additions to our cause and Carter...well, Carter's gone to help the Russians."

Although Spearhead didn't often get all that much news from back home, things did filter down to them on occasion. "I thought that was just a rumor, or at least still being talked about..."

O'Neill shook his head. "Nope, the President gave the go ahead. Makes for good Press releases and whatnot. The Russians are setting up SGC(East) just outside Khabarovsk and they were having trouble getting the Gate to work so we sent Carter to fix it for 'em."

"There goes the Galaxy..." Lewis muttered as she drifted out the door.

* * * * * * * * * * *

July 21st, 2005

Group Captain Mallory strode into the lecture theatre and the thirty pilots of his new class stood quickly to attention.

"At ease, everybody." Mallory ordered. "I know you people come from various Air Forces, Navies and Army Air Corps from around the world but I will tell you right now that all of that means shit. The only thing that matters to me is how well you people can fly."

All the pilots before him stiffened slightly. They were not wet-behind-the-ears cadets but veteran pilots with thousands of hours of stick time and no insult could be more calculated to offend than to call into question their piloting skills.

Mallory carried on, ignoring their collective offense. "Before today, you pilots have flown over every terrain and across practically every border this planet holds. Today, that means absolutely nothing. You will be training to fly the F-401 Space Superiority fighter. That means you will be flying in a place where altitude, speed and distance hold completely new meanings. You will be flying at speeds in excess of 20,000 kph, where your reflexes will mean the difference between life or death. Ladies and gentlemen, you will be flying in space where ejection may be worse that staying in a mortally damaged plane."

11:51 ZULU
September 18th, 2005

It was a beautiful clear day at RAF Mildenhall, sparse clouds at twenty thousand and negligible wind speed. Mallory grabbed his helmet off the counter, signed for his plane and after giving his crew chief and wink, strode over to the runway apron where the twenty-two remaining pilots of his class stood in complete flight gear. Just beyond them stood thirty F-401's arrayed in a line, their ground crew swarming over them, making last minute adjustments ensuring safe operations during the flight training.

As Mallory stood before them, he smiled. "We've spent the last couple of weeks getting used to your birds as if they were atmospheric craft, albeit ultra fast ones."

Everyone chuckled at the reference to the terrifying speed for which the 'Sabre' was becoming known.

"Now, we're going to take it upstairs, past the atmospheric boundary and straight into deep space. You all know the drill, your nav computers do most of the hard work, and you just make the decisions. Leave the astronaut bollocks to the NASA boys and girls."

* * * * * * * * * *

Mallory looked over his shoulder to see how well his people were keeping in formation. "Loosen it up back there, Four...once we're clear of atmosphere, we'll practice the tight groupings later but till then, keep spacing!"

"Acknowledged, Lead." Four responded, tightly.

Mallory sighed and studied the rest of his formation. Despite the occasional attitude problem, they were all bloody good pilots. Another couple of weeks of deep space training and he might even let them fly with him into combat.

The swarm of F-401's literally rocketed through the atmosphere, trailing sonic booms that shattered windows across Britain in their wake.

14:36 ZULU
September 18th, 2005

"Mr President, I understand your concerns about militarizing Earth but we have to deal with the objective reality. We need that satellite defense network and we need the ground defense stations." General Stuart pleaded as he sat in the Oval Office with the President, his Chief of Staff and the Treasury Secretary. "We simply don't have the ships to go toe to toe with a fleet of Motherships. We're at least twenty years away from being able to build a vessel that would qualify as a 'starship'. Our best chance, our only chance for a successful defense is a layered system of orbital weapons, attack fighters, bombers and ground based defenses. We may not be capable of building a starship but we can overwhelm them."

President Kinsey sighed. "Dammit, General, if we turn Earth into a police state, we'll have lost everything we've fought for this last century anyway."

General Stuart bit his tongue and looked to the SecTreas for help. He met Stuart's eyes, nodded silently and turned to the President. "Mr President, you know I agree with your concerns but, and please don't take this as criticism, but you're going about this the wrong way."

Kinsey's eyes flared slightly but he relented and schooled his features into a calm mask. "Say your piece."

SecTreas took a deep breath. "We need to do this. If we lose to the Goa'uld then we lose everything for all time. They're not going to let us rebel like we did 10,000 years ago. Once we're under their thumb again, we're going to stay there for eternity. We need to make a first step, now if your right about this armament program being the first step towards a police state, what you need do is make sure we don't take a step down THAT road. You're the President, you set the example, make sure the goals we have in this war are just ones. Make sure that the people of this world are protected but that they can still go about their lives as normal. Make the people understand that having the military increased to ten times it's size mean that we aren't taking away their civil liberties.

The SecTreas could see the President thinking hard so he pressed his point home. "The people want to be defended but your right, seeing soldiers with guns on a daily basis will frighten a lot of them and there will be an outcry. You need to talk to them, show them that we will not interfere with their lives and decisions."

Kinsey looked over at the Chief of Staff who nodded. "He's right. We need those defenses. The people want those defenses, all we can do is ensure it doesn't go bad."

The President stood up and walked over to his desk. After about thirty seconds of consideration, he turned around again. "Okay, General, I want your proposal on my desk by tomorrow but please don't ask for more than is absolutely necessary."

General Stuart stood to attention. "Yes, Mr President and sir?"

Kinsey looked at the General who raised his chin slightly as he spoke. "Sir, I put on this uniform to defend my country against all foes, foreign and domestic. I may want militarize this country in light of the Goa'uld threat but I really do understand your concerns and I promise, I will ensure that your fears never come to pass."

The President smiled gratefully. "Dismissed, General."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr President."

As General Stuart exited the Oval Office, Kinsey sat back down on the sofa and faced the Chief of Staff and the SecTreas. "Can we afford it? Financially, I mean?"

SecTreas winced slightly. "It'll be hard at first, Mr President but the military call up will actually be a good thing in the long run..."

The Chief of Staff frowned slightly but then he realized where the SecTreas was going with the statement.

"...having a lot of men and women joining the armed forces will open up a lot, and I mean a lot of jobs. Unemployment could fall dramatically."

Kinsey brightened slightly and then frowned as he carried that logic to an unpleasant conclusion. "Assuming we win, the outpouring of ex-military personnel would just create massive un-employment again but on an even greater scale."

SceTreas shook his head slightly. "Mr President, this is, assuming we win, probably one of the best things that could have happened to us. Once we win this war, yes I suppose the military will downsize a fair bit but unemployment will be very limited. One thing people seem to have overlooked is that the entire Galaxy is open to us now. We've been running projections and one of the things that will help the economy after the war will be off-world colonies."

Kinsey looked at him askance. "Colonies?"

Sectreas nodded enthusiastically. "Think about it. New worlds, new cities to be built, new industries, Mr President, ugly as it sounds, a successful war can quite often, not only lead to developments in areas of science and technology but in way of life. If we win this war, sir, things will be better for all humanity. I guarantee it."

The President smiled at the man's vision. The Chief of Staff looked less convinced and turned his attention to his ever-present PDA. "Mr President, it's time for the meeting with the Chinese Ambassador."

Kinsey rolled his eyes slightly as SecTreas picked up his files and grinned slightly at the President's annoyance. "What is it this time?"

Kinsey just glared at the SecTreas. "The Chinese Premier is having a conniption at the complete lack of F-401's being deployed to China at the moment."

SecTreas frowned as he gathered his papers. "What does it matter? The Defense Squadron out of Russia can get into orbit in less than a minute, what difference does it make if they're based in Russia or a 100 kilometers away in the Xangchi Province?"

The Chief of Staff snorted. "It doesn't matter one bit. That Russian Squadron can cover China without breaking a sweat. The Chinese Premier is simply still sore over the fact that until recently, we, along with the Brits and the Russians, have been keeping the Stargate technology and the knowledge of the Goa'uld threat to ourselves."

"He's in on it now, isn't he? What's the problem?" SecTreas asked reasonably.

Kinsey grinned. "Oh it's simply a matter of the Imperialistic West and the Capitalist whores of the East are conspiring to deny glorious China their place among the leaders of the Free World."

SecTreas shook his head softly. "Again?"

Chapter 2
Training is Bloodless Battle, Battle is Bloody Training.

08:47 ZULU
September 23rd, 2005

The duty staff at Space Command is quietly going about their tasks with their usual understated professionalism except that this time, their screens aren't clear. It's the second day of flying for the training squadron out of England and the sensor displays show numerous small contacts twisting and diving around in the small area of space between the Earth and the Moon.

The duty officer, Major Hanrahan, relaxes in his chair as he watches the fighter squadron buzz around, pulling maneuvers that would make the Space Shuttle lay down and cry.

"Major Hanrahan, could you please look at this, sir?"

The Major got up from his chair and walked over to the young Lieutenant who was sat at one of the Sector stations. "What have you got, son?" Hanrahan asked.

Frowning, the lieutenant tried to explain. "Unknown, sir. I picked up a signal, I mean, it just appeared suddenly, near Mars, and then just as quickly, I lost it."

"Diagnostic?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "Already ran one. The gear checks out. I think the blip ducked behind Mars before we could get a good look-see."

Hanrahan opened his mouth to reply when the blip suddenly appeared again, speeding outwards from Mars on a direct course for Earth. "Sir..." The lieutenant began.

"I see it, son. That's big enough to be a Mothership, all right. Put it up on the main screen." Hanrahan ordered as he moved back to his Command Console and picked up his secure phone to the commanding officer of SpaceCom. "General, we have a incoming bogie. Mothership size. Appeared mid-range and then tried to hide behind Mars. It's now on an intercept course for Earth. ETA, ten minutes."

The General on the other end of the line grimaced. "Give the launch order to the alert squadrons and spin the rest of them up. Wait, we've had training squadrons up there all week, are there any up there now, Major?"

Hanrahan winced as he flicked the switches that would have the alert squadrons in Eglin AFB, RAF Lakenheath and PVO Khabarovsk scrambling. "Yes, sir. Blue squadron. Sir, they're way out at the minute, they ain't gonna be able to get back before that Mothership intercepts them."

"Get on the horn and give 'em the good news." The General ordered. "God knows how the trainee's are gonna fair but they're on their own for now."

* * * * * * * * *

"This better be a bleeding joke!" Mallory replied as some Major Hanrahan from SpaceCom informed of a Goa'uld Mothership closing in on his position.

"Sorry, Col...er, Group Captain. It's making some speed to Earth and you're directly in the way." Hanrahan continued, somewhat contritely.

Mallory took a deep breath. "Okay, SpaceCom, thanks for the heads up...just light a fire under those alert buggers and get them up here as soon as possible, eh?"

"You got it, Group Captain." Hanrahan confirmed. "Good luck. Out."

Mallory looked out of his cockpit, scanning the stars for any sign of the Mothership. His fighters sensors were strictly short range, about a million kilometers at best. He turned and looked around at the rest of the squadron as their fighters drifted slowly towards his own craft. "Okay, guys, listen up...I've just been informed that a Goa'uld Mothership is in-system and heading our way. I know we've only been flying these babies for a few weeks but we've no choice, we're going to have to fight."

His computer started beeping and Mallory stopped talking long enough to see the computer display a warning about the approach of the Mothership. "Okay Blues, I want a two group, vee-spread, flights 1, 2 and 5, go high, everyone else goes low...check in!"

"One flight, ready and able!" The flight leader of One flight acknowledged as his four fighters pulled in behind Mallory.

"Two flight, in the green!"

"Three flight, good to go!"

"Four flight, just point and shoot!"

"Five flight, kick the tyres..."

"Six flight, ...light the fires!"

Mallory smiled grimly as the two groups of fighters flew on diverging courses but still heading towards the incoming signal that was the Mothership. These pilots might be relatively new to space combat but I wouldn't count them out just yet.

His thoughts were interrupted as the computer beeped once more. Mallory studied the display that showed the Mothership had suddenly disappeared. "She's gone..."

One of the other pilots, Blue 4, shook his head as his computer scrolled new information across his display. "Roger that, Lead, but she's left friends behind. I'm picking up...forty, repeat forty Death Gliders and six Al'Kesh mid-range Bombers."

Mallory saw the information scroll across his display seconds later. "Roger that, Blue 4. We're still going to intercept them though. Engage the Death Gliders, leave the Bombers for the Squadrons backing us up."

As he various flight leaders sent acknowledgements, the time for general orders was past. The Bombers and Gliders seem to come streaking out of the darkness of space. Mallory nosed his fighter over and laid his targeting reticule over the nose of the nearest Death Glider. It's Jaffa pilot must have picked up the fighters too late because it had barely begun to maneuver before Mallory pulled the trigger, sending searing energy blasts and hyper-accelerated tungsten darts towards the Glider. It crumpled immediately under the assault and blossomed into a small explosion. The Bombers seemed to accelerate faster as they blew past the fighters leaving the Death Gliders to scatter like startled quail. Mallory noted several other Death Gliders explode as well and for a moment, he thought things might be going their way...

"Oh, shit...this Blue 14, I'm defensive!! My wingman's gone! Somebody help me!"

The cry over the radio startled Mallory into action, the holographic displays instantly picked out Blue 14 for him as he swung his fighter in a tight turn to bring him on an intercept course. He jerked badly as a Death Glider shot past his cockpit, clearing it by a handful of meters, two Sabres on it's tail, streams of fire reaching out for it.

All around him, a hideously beautiful ballet of fighters spun and danced across the starry backdrop of space, each dance's end punctuated by a small explosion.

Blue 14 was trying desperately to avoid that fate however, pulling his fighter this way and that, managing to be agile enough to avoid being hit but not enough to escape the tenacious Jaffa on his tail.

Mallory finally closed to within firing range. "Blue 14, the is Blue Lead. On my mark, break right...mark!"

Blue 14's Sabre swung sharply to the right, the pursuing Jaffa smoothly following the lone fighter. Unfortunately, the Jaffa had drifted right into the gun sights of Mallory who mashed down the trigger and blew the Death Glider apart.

The relieved Blue 14 continued his turn and ended up flying in formation beside Mallory. "Thanks, Lead."

Mallory nodded slightly, even though Blue 14 wouldn't be able to see him. "You've got my wing, 14. Let's go get the rest of them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Back towards Earth, the Bombers had flown into range of the alert fighters from Eglin AFB.

"Raven flight, this is Raven Lead, there's the Bombers, break by numbers and engage at will!"

Wing Commander Tony Wilkins, Raven Lead, spiraled in on the Bombers, jinking his fighter hard as the turrets on the Bombers opened up, filling the vacuum of space with searing energy blasts. He pulled the trigger on his flight-stick and walked his energy blasts across the Bomber, its defensive shields rippling in protest. His fighter shot past the Bomber having reduced its shields some but doing little damage overall. He grunted in disapproval.

His wingman whooped as he had better luck. His blasts had followed virtually the same path Wilkins' had taken and as a result, pierced the weakened shields. The Bomber shuddered, as it's portside turret exploded, glittering energy trailing from the exposed conduits although it gamely carried on, and its remaining cannon firing with an increased intensity.

"Lucky bastard, Two!" Mallory moaned. To make things worse, one of the other wing pairs had destroyed a Bomber in their first pass.

Raven Two smiled inside his full-face helmet. "That's okay, Lead, I know you're not quite as good as you were in your youth..."

The remaining five Bombers, bloodied but unbowed, continued one towards Earth. Their formation tightened up into a mutually supportive sphere that allowed them to lay down a web of fire that prevented the fighters from getting in close enough and longer enough to do any damage.

"Attack spiral, now!" Wilkins ordered.

The loose formation of Sabres banked one after the other, falling into a 'attack spiral' like a dozen sycamore seeds falling from a tree. One by one, the Sabres of Raven Squadron flew in a ever-closing arc towards the Bomber formation and at the point of closest approach, they fired their weapons.

The bombers responded massively, their cannons throwing a web of energy blasts around the fighters. One of the bombers shuddered as it's shields failed slightly over one of its engines, allowing the rail gun rounds to penetrate deep past the armored hull. It's portside engines flared and then suddenly died. After firing their volley's, the Sabres continued their arc and pulled away from the bombers before they could be hit in return.

Wilkins winced as he saw a flash off his starboard side and saw one of the Sabres dissolve into a smear of flame and metal.

"Raven Four is gone." His wingman announced tonelessly.

"It's like sticking your bloody hand into a buzz saw!" Raven Eight complained.

Almost to Earth now, Wilkins noticed the second alert squadron from Russia was finally arriving. Better late than never, he though but their approach gave him a new option.

"Okay, people listen, we're going back in, we'll approach from the rear and target the rearmost two Bombers, understood? I want everything you have on those two fat ladies."

Wilkins watched 2nd Squadron approach and when they were close enough he yelled, "Now, engage!"

As one, 1st Squadron, 'The Ravens', turned into the formation of Goa'uld Bombers and fired everything at the rear two Bombers. The Bombers responded in kind by firing at the incoming fighters, which unfortunately for them, opened a hole in their defensive line for 2nd Squadron, 'The Knights' to charge straight into them, guns blazing.

Hit from both sides, the five Bombers seemed to simply explode, spattering wreckage that continued on towards Earth.

As all the Earth pilots cheered, not one of them noticed that among the wreckage, several escape pods flew, un-powered, towards Earth's atmosphere.

* * * * * * * *

The cheering had died down quickly in the Command Center at Space Command. The victory in space occasioned a cheer but the attitude cultivated at SpaceCom was one of consummate professionalism. Everybody had quickly gotten back down to the business at hand.

"Any sign of that Mothership?" Major Hanrahan asked out loud.

It was the young lieutenant that picked up the first signals that answer him. "We've got nothing in-system except for our birds and some fairly large pieces of debris from those Bombers."

Hanrahan frowned. "Big enough to cause any problems?" Translation, are the pieces big enough to fall though the atmosphere and land on the roof of the White House?

The lieutenant shook his head. "They should all burn up but if not, none of them are on impact tracks towards population centers. Million to one chance they hit anything but dirt."

Accepting that evaluation, Hanrahan looked over the main display. "How'd that training squadron do?"

A female Captain on the opposite side of the room turned in her chair. "I kept track of that fight, sir. They took out all the Death Gliders but they pretty much got themselves wiped out doing it. I'm only picking up two IFF signals. Blue Lead and Blue 14."

Hanrahan's fists clenched tightly. "Damn."

09:12 ZULU
September 23rd, 2005

Desperately tired, Josef Malinkov forces himself to carry on through the night. Driving through the Russian countryside, his trucks cargo of foodstuff needs to be in Moscow by the morning and he had been driving for almost seven hours straight. Suppressing a yawn, he pushes on trying to find something to keep him awake. He had lost radio reception about an hour ago, a fairly regular occurrence when in the countryside and he was about to start singing a popular radio jingle to himself when the countryside outside his cabin seemed to take on an orange tint. Winding down the window, he sticks his head out just in time to see a ball of flame streak across the sky. As it passed overhead, it seemed to plummet into a nearby forest and Josef's eyes widened in fear but the meteor impacted with surprisingly little fanfare and not the monstrous explosion he was expecting. Almost overwhelmingly curious, Josef was severely tempted to stop and investigate but if he managed to deliver his haul on time, he would receive a bonus and he desperately needed that bonus and so, with more than a little reluctance, he increased speed and carried on his way to Moscow.

At least he would have on hell of a story to tell his kids. Assuming they believed him.

09:19 ZULU
September 23rd, 2005

Paul Grady had been a postman for going on eleven years and as a result of riding his bike throughout his little corner of England, he was considerably fit, and having just finished his rounds in record time, he was in an extremely good mood. Instead of taking his normal way home, he decided to treat himself and take the long way home; a journey that involved a short but fairly arduous haul for a bike, along the road that takes you up to the top of Charlie's Peak and once at the top, the was nothing but a long three mile ride downhill. He wouldn't need to pedal and he could still make close to fifty miles an hour before he was even a quarter of the way down.

After five minutes of hard pumping, Grady had made it to the top of the Peak. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he surveyed the downhill route and smiled grimly to himself. He was going to enjoy this. Pushing off gently, he rolled forward slowly but as the seconds passed, he picked up speed at a terrifying rate. Another five minutes later and he let loose a yell of exhilaration.

A yell that was cut short as he felt the ground rumble through his bike. For some reason, he looked up just in time to see a meteor streak past the Peak. The ball of flame seemed to make a noticeable curve and disappear behind another large hill but Paul never got to contemplate this strange sight in any detail for he lost his balance and he, along with his bike, went into a tumble at 42 mph.

It would be close to an hour and a half before a car came along and discovered the severely injured Paul Grady, lying in the road, and another month before he woke up from his coma.

09:24 ZULU
September 23rd, 2005

In Southern Nebraska, John Henry, a retired lawyer happened to be stargazing when saw a meteor streak across the sky and disappear into the forest at the far end of his land. Curious and more than a little annoyed at the prospect of having a twenty foot crater in his pristine woodland retreat, he went to investigate.

A short time later, he had reached the impact site and was gingerly making his way past a couple of small fires that were already dying out. The damp wood prevented the flames from catch hold with any kind of intensity. As he crested the lip of the 'smaller than he had expected' crater, he was slightly shocked to see a small pod of some kind. It was open and what appeared to be a man in a well-tailored suit was rooting around in the bottom of it.

"Excuse me, buddy, but what in the hell is going on around here?"

The man stiffened slightly and then turned round to look at John Henry. Whatever he was expecting, Henry sure as hell wasn't it because the stranger visibly relaxed. Taking a step forward, he grinned slightly and raised his right hand which, Henry now noted, was adorned with some sort of gold glove with a glowing crystal embedded in the palm.

Henry's confusion reached new limits when the stranger spoke, his eyes flashing with an internal glow. "Nighty night..."

John Henry's world went white.

Chapter 3
Old Promises, New Challenges

11:30 ZULU
October 2nd, 2005

General Hammond look at the stern figure of General Jake McAuley, U.S Army, sitting in front of him and sighed, not for the first time since the meeting began. McAuley was pissed because a lot of his troops were being reassigned to Stargate Command. "I understand that, Jake, but look at my situation here...I need all the experienced people I can get."

Grimacing, McAuley blew heavily through his clenched teeth. "I know, George, I know...but you're raiding mine and practically every other front line command for troops and quite frankly, it's beginning to piss some people off."

Hammond didn't need McAuley to tell him that. Stargate Command has been pissing the Pentagon and White House people off since day one.

"Look..." McAuley continued, "...why don't we just take one of my Mechanized Infantry Divisions as a whole instead of just piecemeal. We'll get the job done."

Hammond shook his head gently. "Doesn't work like that...least, not anymore it doesn't. Stargate combat is totally different from conventional warfare. Oh, you'd learn in fairly short order but you'd lose a hell of a lot of people before you did. Bringing in new people and putting them in the experienced teams means they don't get slaughtered out on their first mission."

"Hell, doesn't matter one way or another, does it?" McAuley said, half disgusted at himself. "You've got a gold plated operation here I can't touch even if I wanted to..."

Hammond opened his mouth to reply but McAuley waved him off. "Oh, forget it, George...I'm just pissed that I'm not gonna get to see any of the action. I'm standing down from Commander of I Corp soon and I'm still not sure if I'm gonna get a new assignment or be put out to pasture." He stood up and pulled his class-A uniform straight. "Forget I was here, George, if you need any of my people, we'll be here for ya."

Hammond rose and offered his hand with a smile. "That means a lot to me, Jake. Thanks."

McAuley grinned and shook the proffered hand. Suddenly, a high-pitched hum filled the room, which then dissolved into white light. The light disappeared and the two Generals found themselves in a large chamber with a polished black table and chairs, metallic red arches and gray wall plating. McAuley though the architecture looked distinctly Viking. "What the hell was that?" He exclaimed, taking up a combat posture, ready for an attack.

Hammond took a quick look around and gave McAuley a slight grin. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

Before McAuley could ask what he meant, the same high pitched sound started again and two flashes of light appeared in front of them. As the light faded, McAuley could do nothing but stare dumbfounded at the two small, gray aliens that looked just like all those Roswell images everybody had 'seen'.

The slightly taller one took a step forward. "Greetings, General Hammond."

"Hello, Thor." Hammond replied. He looked over at his still slightly wary friend and smiled. "Jake, this is Thor, of the Asgard. Thor, this is General Jake McAuley."

McAuley looked at the diminutive alien and smiled warily. "A pleasure."

Thor inclined his head. "Greetings." He turned slightly and the other Asgard took a step forward. "This is Odin, Sub-Commander of the Asgard Fleet."

Odin raised a hand in greeting but didn't speak. Turning back to face the humans, Thor sighed visibly. "General Hammond, I am aware of the dissatisfaction you and you people hold towards the Asgard due to our reluctance to involve ourselves in your affairs but we have comet o you with a request."

Hammond winced slightly and decided to see if he could repair some of the damage O'Neill had obviously done with his various tirades against the Hiigh Council over the years. "Thor, obviously we disagreed with some of your decisions but that doesn't mean we don't understand your reasoning behind them. Ask what you will and I will try my best to accommodate you."

Thor glanced at Odin and then looked at Hammond intently. "Once before, Colonel Carter assisted us in destroying a major Replicator attack upon the Asgard. Afterwards, she offered her services if we required them at a later date."

Frowning slightly, Hammond's thoughts raced. Carter was heavily involved in about a dozen technical projects on Earth vital to our defense, to say nothing of her duties at Spearhead. Could they afford to lose her presence, even for a short time?

Thor noticed Hammond's internal debate and quickly realized his reluctance. "General Hammond, I am not unaware of the recent escalations between Earth and the System Lords. Understand, that the Asgard are on the verge of losing the war with the Replicators and at the moment, are quite unable to prevent a Goa'uld invasion of your world."

Hammond grinned slightly. "As long as we keep that little fact between you and me, the System Lords will continue to be very circumspect in how they deal with Earth." He studied the two Asgard for several moments and then seemed to come to decision. "May I ask, for what reason do you need Colonel Carter at this time?"

Odin spoke up for the first time since the meeting began. "Since analyzing the various weapons and techniques you humans have used to great success against the Replicators, we have spent a vast amount if time and effort in developing a new series of ships and weapons in an all or nothing bid to remove the Replicator threat once and for all. We are confident in these new weapons but we are no longer blind to our shortcomings. We are mentally unequipped to fight the kind of fight that may be necessary to secure victory."

McAuley let loose a breath of realization. "You want to borrow some military advisors!"

Thor looked at the imposing General and inclined his head in agreement. "That is the role Colonel Carter performed for us with great success before. We would like to enlist your help in leading our forces in this last attempt to remove the Replicator threat."

Completely relaxed now, McAuley turned to Hammond and grinned. "Hell, George, I think this old warhorse just found his war..."

Hammond studied his friend and saw that he had already made his decision, it was doubtful he could turn him from it. "You realize the President might refuse. Earth's gearing up for a long fight and we need all the experienced officers we can get."

McAuley gave a quick bark of laughter. "Bullcrap, George. I'm gonna be pushing papers right up until the time the Goa'uld come knocking on our door and even then, if it was necessary to grab and rifle and fight, that would mean the battle would pretty much been lost anyway." He turned to face his friend and spread his arms out in silent plea. "Come on George, you know I'm not needed back home. Help me persuade everyone back home that I can do this."

After several minutes of silence, Hammond nodded. "Alright, Jake, I'll give the idea, along with my recommendation, to the Joint Chiefs." He looked at the two Asgard. "Assuming we get the go ahead from our superiors, would General McAuley and five other officers suffice for your offensive?"

Odin inclined his head agreeably. "More than enough."

Thor seemed to smile as he moved next to a console adorned with Asgard script and control units. He removed one of the units and gave it to Hammond. "We shall return you to the surface so that you may consult your superiors. To contact this vessel, simply hold that control unit and ask for me."

Odin stepped forward as the two humans readied themselves for transport. "Time is of the essence, General Hammond. Whether you can help us or not, we need to be on our way as soon as possible."

"I understand." Hammond replied.

A high-pitched hum filled the air and in a flash of light, they were gone.

* * * * * * * * * *

12:00 ZULU
October 2nd, 2005

Brigadier General O'Neill walked out of the Capitol Building in a dark mood. He had just spent the past four hours trying to convince the Senate Appropriations Committee to approve funding for increased expansion of the Spearhead facility with limited results. Here I am, the thin red line between freedom and slavery to parasitic snakes and I still have to justify the need for more troops, weapons and equipment!

Walking past the numerous Washington D.C drones, O'Neill paid serious contemplation to finding an out of the way bar and having a stiff drink. Before he could make a decision either way, a voice out of his past called out to him.

"Hey Jack, it's been a long time..."

O'Neill turned round to see a short, clean shaven but slightly overweight figure in a business suit standing before him, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face like he had not a care in the world.

"Maybourne." Jack replied, flatly.

Maybourne's grin seemed to threaten to split his face in half. "Come on, Jack, you don't seemed pleased to see me. After all I've done for you, I'm almost hurt."

Jack frowned slightly but silently acknowledged to himself that Maybourne had done more to help Jack, than he ever had to hurt him. He supposed it did put him ahead on points. "Whenever you creep into my life, everything always goes to shit."

"I promise you, Jack, this time will be no different." He replied cheerfully. "I like the goatee by the way. Makes you look mature."

O'Neill rolled his eyes in half annoyance and half amusement. "Whatcha got for me then, Sparky?" He asked, using his favorite pet name for the ex-NID operative.

"Let's talk on the move." Maybourne replied as he guided Jack away from the Capitol building. "Remember that Goa'uld attack on Earth a week ago?"

"Kinda hard to forget, you know." O'Neill snorted.

Maybourne nodded seriously all but ignoring the halfhearted insult. "When our boys and girls shot down those attacking Bombers, SpaceCom tracked a lot of large debris falling through the atmosphere."

"I'm not gonna ask how you know what SpaceCom was tracking at the time." O'Neill interrupted.

Again, Maybourne ignored him. "Jack, the boys in blue checked out pretty much all of the impact craters to see if we could recover anything of value. We didn't but that's beside the point. What SpaceCom and the Joint Chiefs aren't telling anyone is that we're almost positive that a handful of escape pods from those Bombers made it through the atmosphere and landed on Earth."

O'Neill stopped in his tracks and looked at Maybourne intently. "You're serious."

Maybourne nodded gently. "I've kidded you around on a lot of things, Jack but we're past that now. From what I've been able to gather, NID are up to their necks in this cause there's three, possibly four Goa'uld on Earth, right now and they don't have the first clue where any of them are!"

"Kinsey's keeping it quiet, huh?" Jack asked thoughtfully.

"Yeah." Maybourne replied. "Doesn't want to start a panic, does he now? It's all being done in the strictest security, mainly by NID."

O'Neill looked disgusted. "So what the hell do you need me for?"

Maybourne gave him a wry grin. "Jaaack...you know I'm person-non-grata with NID. I just felt this situation was something you should be aware of. If there's one thing I've learned about you and SG-1 over the years is that you invariably get caught up in the latest Goa'uld plots. They must seem to like you or something."

"My charming personality." Jack replied, deadpan.

Maybourne chuckled and started walking away from him. "You know how to get in touch. I'll see you around, Jack."

Jack winced as his apparent bane in life melted into the crowd. "Hope not."

* * * * * * * * * *

18:00 ZULU
October 2nd, 2005

In the Main Conference Room of the Pentagon, CINC-SGC General Hammond was seated at one end of the large rectangular table. Around the far end sat the members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, led by the Chairman, General Stuart. For the past twenty minutes, Hammond had been filling them in on the Asgard's situation and their current request for military advisors.

General Stuart had kept himself up-to-date on the Stargate Project and already knew most of what CINC-SGC was saying but from the looks of the rest of the JCS, it was all too fascinating for them. As Hammond finished, Stuart shook his head in exasperation. "These Asgard have a lot of nerve though, George. They haven't exactly been helpful towards us in the past."

Hammond shook his head in disagreement. "They included us in the Protected Planets Treaty...a move that keeps us safe from the Goa'uld and something for which we owe them a lot, Orin, a lot."

The Chief Of The Navy nodded slightly but still looked uncomfortable. "General, granted that we owe them but you of all people know that we've gone from a secret war run by your small facility out of Cheyenne Mountain to a full scale offensive using off-world strike assets and massive military expansion here on Earth. Can we really afford to be loaning out our best and brightest commanders?"

General Baker, the Marine Corp Commandant, who sat opposite to the Admiral leaned forward to answer that question. "Kathy, quite frankly, the peacetime military has far too many commanders as it is. Thinning out the leadership might be better for us in a wartime state. That aside, this is a fantastic opportunity to work with an alien race closely, to learn everything about them from military capabilities to political and social structures. It is a chance that I would be willing to take."

The Admiral smiled as she looked in a stern but grandmotherly way at the General. "It would appear, General Hammond, you already have support for this proposal you've put forward. Who do you recommend to go on this assignment?"

Hammond pressed a couple of button on a control pad that was set into the table in front of him. A wall screen running the length of the conference room lit up and displayed six personnel files. The first on was General McAuley's.

"We have, in addition to the General here, a Lt Colonel Karl Anderson, U.S. Army; Colonel Robert Williams, U.S Airforce and Rear Admiral Susan Bennet, U.S Navy. We considered just using people from our forces but we though it might be more politic to bring in some outside expertise as well."

General Stuart looked at the two remaining files. "The Brits?"

Hammond nodded. "Yes, sir. Air Commodore Alex Ridley, Royal Air Force and Brigadier Peter Charleston, British Army. Both are top people in their field. All six are good, solid commanders who excel at thinking out of the box and are capable of handling new and unique situations."

Stuart studied the personnel files for a few minutes more and then looked at the various service Chiefs. The each gave a single, assenting nod. Stuart turned to the CINC-SGC. "Approved, General Hammond. Inform your people and if anybody argues about the short notice reassignments, point 'em in my direction."

Hammond stood to attention. "Thank you, sirs."

* * * * * * * * * *

General McAuley had been wandering the vast and complex corridors of the Pentagon while he waited for Hammond to get the okay from the Joint Chiefs. They had agreed between themselves that McAuley shouldn't attend the meeting so as not to show too influence in the decision making process. Actually, McAuley had found his time walking the Rings of the Pentagon instructive. It was amazing what you could find around here if you looked hard enough. So far, he had discovered three libraries, two food courts and a small, apparently unknown gym filled with antique equipment, crammed behind the Army Logistics Office. He'd half expected to find the decomposed bones of a missing gym instructor, since the gym looked like it hadn't been used since the place was built. Anyway, after looking at his watch, he made his way back to the waiting room outside the Main Conference Room. He arrived just in time to see Hammond coming out with that small, trademark grin.

"Well?" McAuley asked.

Hammond nodded. "It's a go. You leave as soon as I can get the Brits over here."

"Works for me."

Chapter 4
Vodka, Wormholes and Old Friends

13:04 ZULU
October 3rd, 2005

Colonel Lieutenant Alexi Sulakov walked the halls of the Kremlin with a distinct spring in his step. At first, his recall and promotion from field duty with SG-Delta at Spearhead had seemed to be a mixed blessing. It was good because it meant that his career was going places. His promotion was well below the zone and surely meant he was destined for greater things. It was a curse because it took him away from the front lines to work behind a desk. Something no soldier likes to contemplate. The blow of administrative work was softened somewhat when he had been told that he was going to be on the Command Staff for the new Strike Facility at Khabarovsk, SGC(East). He was in the Kremlin today for a series of meetings on the progress of the Bright Sword facility.

He smiled as he remembered Colonel Carter's reaction when she saw the state of the facility when she had arrived several weeks ago. Undaunted, she had had the men and women of 'Bright Sword' working like a well oiled machine within days.

Scanning the sea of faces in the Kremlin, Alexi gave respectful nods to the unfamiliar and smiles and words of greeting to those he knew. Passing the access corridor to the President's offices, Alexi's face drained of all blood as his eyes focused on a face he had thought long dead.

"Mikhail...Mikhail Sergevoy! You're dead! I saw you killed!"

People in the corridors stopped and turned at the soldier who was becoming increasingly loud, almost screaming, in fact. Guards standing at certain doors looked at him curiously, some actually freeing the hands and making ready to pull out their weapons.

The 'ghost', Mikhail Sergevoy, looked up at Sulakov with the expression of a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Sergevoy had also been an SG-Delta trooper but he had been killed two years ago on the 'Raider' mission to Shiv's world, a simple mission that had resulted in an ambush by Hek'at and his Jaffa.

Sulakov ran forward to confront his dead friend but his worst nightmare came true when Sergevoy's left hand reached into his pocket and came out, adorned with a Goa'uld ribbon device. Raising his hand, Sergevoy's eyes flashed white in anger, revealing the symbiote's presence within. "Tau'ri scum!"

"Everybody down!" Sulakov screamed as he dived to the floor, the ribbon blast passing over his head by scant centimeters. The blast wave carried on and smashed into two staffers who were stood by the far wall. The staffers and the wall seemed to explode in blood and mortar.

The Kremlin erupted into chaos. The guards unslung their rifles, pulled out pistols and began to empty clips into the Goa'uld infiltrator. 'Sergevoy' laughed menacingly as a cylindrical shield appeared around him, the bullets simply bouncing off its orange haze. He turned round and raised his hand once more, firing a ribbon blast that hit two guards and sent the rest flying for cover.

Sulakov cursed as he picked himself up and realized, to his regret, that he had attracted the Goa'uld's attention once more as 'Sergevoy' spun round and glared at him with murder in his eyes. Another ribbon blast slammed into the floor where he was scarcely seconds before as he slung himself around the nearest corner. Taking half a second to catch his breath, he heard the sounds of AK-74 rifle fire intensifying. More guards had arrived and were pouring fire at the Goa'uld, the bullets continuing to bounce off his shield. Sulakov heard another explosion as 'Sergevoy' sent another ribbon wave into the guards.

Sulakov mentally thanked Master Sergeant Booth for his advice as he reached up the rear of his uniform tunic and pulled out a Kabar knife, a thirty-centimeter, matte black blade with a polished silver edge. Booth had always kept one handy in case he ever ran into a System Lord force shield. His habit had rubbed off on more than a few Assault troopers.

Flipping the Kabar so that he held the blade in a firm but loose grip, Sulakov ran back into the main corridor and found himself facing the back of 'Sergevoy', who was firing another ribbon blast into the guards.

Whispering a quick prayer to the Gods, Sulakov threw the Kabar exactly as taught by Master Sergeant Booth. The Kabar spun once in mid-air and slipped straight past the force shield, embedding itself up to the hilt in the back of the neck, right where the symbiote resided.

'Sergevoy' dropped dead before he realized what had happened.

The silence was almost deafening as the guards peered out from their cover to see Sulakov standing over the dead body of the Goa'uld. The guards quickly picked themselves up and ran forward, their weapons training on the now still body.

Sulakov looked at the most senior guard he could find and was pleased to see that he outranked him. "Major, I want you to seal off this entire section. No one leaves or enters without my authorization. Then I want someone to get in touch with General Kuryakin. I need to speak with him before I speak with anybody else."

The stunned guard showed admirable control and composed himself quickly, signaling several of his subordinates to take care of things. "What about medics for the wounded?"

Sulakov glanced around and realized that a lot of people were wounded, some to a fairly large degree. "Medics can come in but they can't leave until I've spoken with the General."

The guard nodded and ran off to make sure everything went as ordered. Several minutes later, the area was swarming with medics as the same guard came back with an army radio. "General Kuryakin, sir."

Sulakov took it gratefully. "General?"

"Sulakov! What the hell is going on in there?" Kuryakin roared.

Wincing, Sulakov rubbed his eyes wearily, suddenly extremely tired with the adrenalin let-down. The Russian military had always made use of comprehensive pre-planning for all sorts of situations. They had considered Goa'uld infiltration, of course, it was simply nobody wished to believe it. A common enough occurrence in the old Soviet Union, he thought. Sulakov just hoped that the new Russia didn't make the same mistakes. "We have Arkangel situation, repeat, we have an Arkangel situation."

18:49 ZULU
October 3rd, 2005

At the SGC(East) 'Bright Sword' facility, Colonel Carter was about ready to take a P-90 to all the Russian components in this computer system. She and the Russian technicians had spent the past week getting the computer's to interface with the Russian gate. They had first attempted to build the system with the Russian equipment at hand but it wasn't long before Carter had ordered an airlift of spare equipment from SGC(West) where everything works. Grinning impudently, her Russian counterpart, Colonel Yakov had laughed at her embarrassment as she realized she had been insulting his countries best efforts at computer hardware.

"Relax, Colonel Carter, my superiors may think we Russians can build anything we set our minds to but between you and me, I'd take a Western computer any day."

After managing to solve the computer problems, she was now faced with a new challenge. The Stargate wouldn't work with the Russian power grid. When the Russians used their gate before, it was powered by the DHD but since the SGC had borrowed it several years back and damaged it beyond repair, the Russian were left with no choice but to plug in to their own nuclear reactors.

Unfortunately, Carter found out in short order that the Russian power grid runs at a higher cycle rate that is incompatible with the Stargate systems. And so here she was, with Colonel Yakov, up to their elbows in power shunts and transformers, trying jury-rig an adapter so that they could get the damned Gate to work.

As they worked in silence, there was a sudden snap of electricity, a dull thud and a stream of Russian curses, filling the Gate Room. Carter pulled herself out from under the Stargate's primary transformer and looked at Yakov with concern as he hopped about, holding his hand out like it was on fire.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, slightly worried but more than a little amused at his antics.

He glared at her as he sucked on his fingers and rubbed the top of his head. "I am fine, Colonel...I simply touched an exposed capacitor and that must have still carried a small charge. As I jumped back, I hit my head on the Stargate." He glared at the Gate as if to suggest it deliberately got in the way. The Stargate remained unimpressed and sat silent and aloof.

Carter laughed slightly and moved back under to finish making her connections. Yakov leaned against the Stargate as he watched her work. "I still say we should just power the damn thing from one of your naquada reactors."

Shaking her head, she soldered two connections together and tested the power flow. "A practical solution, just not very economical right now. You need naquada for the reactors and it's in very short supply at the moment. We're barely getting enough for the Defense Squadrons as it is."

She checked the readings from her monitor and smiled. "I think this is it. Get ready for a main systems test." She ordered.

Yakov snapped his fingers at several technicians, sending them running to their assigned stations in order for the test. As Carter climbed to her feet, he looked at the Control Centre, overlooking the Gate Room in a similar manner to the Cheyenne Mountain facility. "Notify SGC(West) that we are dialing out for a fifteen second test."

The Duty Sergeant nodded and turned to the audio/video/data link to the SG Command Centre at Cheyenne Mountain. The two Stargate facilities maintain a constant datalink between them so that Stargate Operations could be co-ordinated with little to no conflicts in incoming or outgoing wormhole transits.

Cater and Yakov quickly make their way up to the Command Centre as the horns begin to sound, evacuating the Gate Room of all personnel. As the two Colonels entered the room, the Duty Sergeant spun in his chair to address them both. "SGC(West) say we are clear for test. No scheduled travel for at least six hours."

Yakov collapsed into his chair and slipped a comlink round his head and adjusted the microphone stem to fit. "All stations, we are initiating Stargate Dial-up Systems test. Please stand-by." He looked up at Carter who had remained standing behind him.

She grinned briefly. "Initiate dialing sequence for P59-4X1."

Yakov returned her smile nervously and began to type in the dialling code for the relevant Stargate address. Last time they tried this, they wiped out the power grid for ten miles in every direction for the better part of a day.

This time, however, the lights in the Bright Sword facility flickered slightly causing one of the technicians to moan but they resolutely stayed on and the Stargate rumbled to life.

CHEVRON ONE, ENCODED AND LOCKED

The Command Centre exploded into cheers. The Russian and American techs shook hands and hugged each other joyously. Almost eight weeks of work was now, essentially complete. Bright Sword, SGC(East), was now on-line.

Carter placed a hand on Yakov's shoulder as he leaned back in his chair in relief as the Stargate went through its dialling sequence. "My work here is done now, Colonel. This is your facility now."

Yakov nodded seriously. Now they had a working Stargate, this place was now a possible point of invasion for the System Lords. Since there was no DHD involved in either of the Stargates on Earth, none of the facilities could Command priority over the others. Colonel Carter and her science division had yet to work out how this would effect Stargate operations.

He was about to asked Carter about the possibilities once more when General Lieutenant Kuryakin strode into the Command Center. "Since the lights are still on and you all seem so happy, I assuming that damned Stargate had decided to work now."

Yakov practically vaulted to attention. "Yes, sir. Colonel Carter finished some adjustments this morning and as far as we can tell, everything is now operational."

Kuryakin nodded. "That is good to hear, Colonel. It helps offset some events that have occurred in the past few hours. If you and Colonel Carter could join me in the Briefing Room please..."

Yakov nodded and all three of them retied to the Main Briefing Room just down the corridor from the Command Center. The corridors of the Bright Sword facility were all painted steel gray but every single one of them was adorned with pictures of Russian technology. T-80 tanks, the Energia launcher, Mir Space Station, the MIG-29...every single wall was decorated in such a manner. Carter had to admit that it was tastefully done though.

Inside the Briefing Room, Carter came face to face with Alexi Sulakov, one of the Russian troopers that joined SG-Delta and had proven to have an excellent grasp of Stargate Command decisions. For that reason, they had decided he was perfect to work with the Operations staff here at Bright Sword. Carter smiled at his return from Moscow. He'd been briefing several heads of Government about the Stargate if she remembered rightly.

"Sulakov, how have you been?"

He returned her smile, albeit somewhat in a subdued manner. "I have been better, Colonel. Please take a seat, we have much to discuss."

As everyone sat down, Carter could feel the tension level in the room raise several notches and she didn't know why.

Sulakov looked toward the General who simply nodded and gesture for him to continue. "Colonel Carter, Colonel Yakov, six hours ago, while I was in the Kremlin, I ran into an old friend, Mikhail Sergevoy."

As he expected, Carter recognized the name. "Wasn't he...?"

"...Killed in action, offworld, two years ago." Sulakov finished. "Yes, Colonel, I'm glad you remembered but there he was, plain as day, making his way towards the Presidential section of the Kremlin. I approached him in shock and called out his name. He turned, pulled out a Goa'uld ribbon device and then proceeded to blast at everybody in the corridor, me included."

Yakov leaned forward. "He was a Goa'uld then. As I understand it, only a host or an ex-host can utilize such devices."

Carter nodded. "I can because of Jolinar but Sergevoy never became a host during his time at Spearhead."

Kuryakin frowned deeply. "He never became exposed during our own operations either which leaves us with only one conclusion...the Goa'uld revived his corpse and implanted him with a symbiote. Somehow, he managed to sneak back to Earth and using Sergevoy's knowledge, managed to make his way into the Kremlin in an effort to assassinate the President."

Yakov paled considerably and Carter stared off into space, thinking furiously. "Colonel, this poses serious operational questions."

"I agree, Colonel." The old General replied. "We have left numerous dead bodies of our comrades on numerous worlds. We have been remiss in not considering this aspect before."

Carter frowned. "The Goa'uld have never done it before."

"We never dropped a nuclear weapon on Washington D.C, that didn't mean we couldn't do it." Kuryakin replied, reasonably.

"You right, of course, it's just that this now throws serious questions on the table. Can we afford to leave our dead behind? The Goa'uld could retrieve incredible intelligence about our future operations if they do this again. They've already gained considerable intelligence from Sergevoy and God knows whoever else they decided to revive and turn into hosts."

Sulakov shook his head. "Colonel, those are all important questions, sure enough but you're missing the immediate point. If one our dead Russian soldiers has become a host and has managed to penetrate the Kremlin, why can't one of your dead American soldiers also be here on Earth, attempting to kill your President?"

Carter's eyes widened. "Holy cow." She turned to the General. "Sir, I need..."

Kuryakin nodded gently. "Colonel, the communications bunker has a secure line for you set up." He pointed to the phone in front of her. "Line four."

Carter smiled gratefully at the General as he and the rest of the Russian officers rose and left the Briefing room to give her some privacy. She picked up the phone and heard the digital clicks of a secure satellite transmission locking in.

"SGC Switchboard..."

"General Hammond, please. It's Colonel Carter."

"One moment please."

* * * * * * * *

19:01 ZULU
October 3rd, 2005

"Hammond."

"It's Colonel Carter, sir, at SGC(East)."

Hammond sat up in his chair and glanced at O'Neill and McAuley, who were sat on the opposite side of his desk. I'm putting you on speakerphone, Colonel, O'Neill and General McAuley are with me. Colonel, what's happening down there? White House Signals Office just picked up a shit storm brewing in the Kremlin and nobody knows a goddamn thing back here!"

Carter sighed. "Its bad, sir." She explained to him briefly the events in the Kremlin and the new threat to their operations.

O'Neill scratched behind his ear as he grunted softly. "Carter, I had a visit from Maybourne today who told me about possible infiltration by Goa'uld during the attack on Earth two weeks ago. Seems the White House has known about it for some time but nobodies mentioned anything about our dead soldiers being used as hosts."

On her end of the line, she gripped the phone tight enough to make it creak in protest. "Then, sirs, this looks like a massive operation to use intelligence gained from hosts to take our various world leaders."

McAuley shook his head. "It doesn't make sense though. Shouldn't this have been more co-ordinated? I mean, that Russian host sure screwed the pooch in his attempt, I mean, granted he was unlucky but know, everybody knows about the assassins and nobody even remotely suspicious is gonna get with spitting distance of a world leader now. Everything's gonna be locked down tighter than a snare drum and they ain't gonna be able to shoot shit."

Silence reigned as everybody tried to fathom the Goa'uld plot but after several moments, nothing was forthcoming. Hammond shook his head. "Colonel, haul ass back to Washington. You're gonna brief the National Security Advisor on events in Russia. I'll set up a meeting and a car will be waiting for you at the airport."

"Roger that, sir." She replied. "Carter out."

As Hammond shut down the phone, O'Neill picked up Hammond's nameplate of his desk and started toying with it absently. "This isn't going to go down well with the troops."

McAuley snorted softly. "That's one hell of an understatement, Jack. We left our dead behind and never thought about the consequences because, as a rule, dead men tell no tales and generally stay dead."

Hammond nodded. "Talk about your blind spot. I always wondered how they managed to get such good intelligence on our operations, facilities and missions."

O'Neill placed the nameplate back on the desk with no little force. "They got the intelligence right out of our people's brains!" He stood up in frustration. "Damn it."

McAuley glanced at Hammond but stayed silent. Hammond sighed at looked at his watch. "Jake, we better get going, the Brits will have arrived by now and we've got to get you all set up for you trip."

McAuley nodded and rose up from his chair. O'Neill took a deep breath and glanced at Hammond as he moved into the doorway of his office. "Say 'hi' to Thor for me, will ya?"

Hammond nodded. "Jack?" He called out before Jack could leave. "Try and think up some way round this thing with our dead. We need something for the Book as soon as possible."

O'Neill nodded slowly, his mind already churning over the problem. "Yes, sir."

05:09 ZULU
October 4th, 2005

More than a few hours later, Carter finally lands in Washington. With an ease born of many hours of air travel with both military and civilian flights, she waits patiently to disembark and then goes to pick up her luggage. Leaving the Arrivals concourse, she quickly notices two tall men, wearing dark gray long-coats and somber expressions. Without hesitation, she walks over to them. They wait for her to come to them and as she nears, the one on the left raises his hand, holding an open wallet, flashing his I.D. "Agent Williams, Secret Service. If you'd come with us, ma'am."

Carter nodded amiably but didn't bother to strike up conversation. She'd done the silent escort routine too often to let it bother her.

Walking outside into the bright sunshine, she follows the two agents to a black Ford sedan. As the first agent moves round to the driver's side, the silent agent simply opens up the passenger door for her. Smiling her thanks, she leans forward to get in but as she is almost completely in the car, she feels a small press of cold against her neck and the world seemed to brighten in intensity. Having been drugged before, she analytically recognized the effect of the drugs on her eyes, driving her irises open uncontrollably. Unfortunately, this drug allowed her no time at all to comment on this before her muscles relaxed completely and she collapsed on the back seat, her world suddenly going black.

Chapter 5
Revelations

11:48 ZULU
October 4th, 2005

Colonel Carter, sitting in the driver's seat of her rental Ford, pulled into the main gate of the White House and flashes her I.D. at the approaching guard. The powerfully built guard looks at his itinerary and studies her I.D intently. Satisfied, he gives her back her card and waves her through, tipping his hat respectfully. After finding a space and parking her car, she steps out, smoothes her slightly wrinkled uniform and begins the walk to the White House. As she does so, her mind flashes back to events after she was kidnapped...

* * * * * * *

She woke up with a splitting headache and a raging thirst, her mouth feeling like overused sandpaper. Rotating her head slowly, for it felt like it would fall off at any sudden movement, she surveyed her environment. She was sat in a chair, unbound, in a small warehouse. A warehouse that was completely empty except for the five non-descript chairs arrayed in front of her. Before she could so much as open her mouth to yell, a side door swung open and four men in black suits walked in, followed by a fifty-ish looking woman wearing a grey blue business suit. She sat down in the center chair as one of the suits passed her a tall glass of water and moved the proceeded to sit in the outer chairs along with his friends.

Carter sipped the water, savoring it as if it was the sweetest drink of all time. The woman looked on this with a small grin of amusement. "Forgive this abrupt detour, Colonel Carter but there are some things we must discuss."

Carter said nothing, letting the older woman do all the talking.

"My name is Agatha and I am NID."

Noting the lack of mention of her fellows, Carter felt she had to ask. "And them?"

Agatha smiled congenially. "They work for NID."

Carter again, noted the subtle but distinct words of Agatha and felt her mouth go dry once more. This woman must be the leader of this super-secret organization.

Agatha nodded softly, silently acknowledged the train of thought as if she could read her mind. "We know about what happened in the Kremlin but the Russians are wrong."

Carter inclined her head in silent question.

"The Russian think it was an assassination attempt but the Goa'uld aren't that blunt, at least, not anymore. No, that host was trying to get close enough to the President in order to allow the symbiote to jump bodies into the Russian President. Becoming a world leader would allow the System Lords to do more harm to us than a hundred cohorts of Jaffa ever could."

Agreeing, Carter smacked her lips. "Why am I here, then?"

Agatha leaned forward intently. "Four days ago, we found the dead body of one Captain Charlie Watson. One of your SG-Delta troopers I believe that died on the same mission as Mikhail Sergevoy. The body was without symbiote. It had been killed with a single bullet to the head."

Cater frowned and Agatha continued grimly. "Two days ago, we found the dead body of a White House staffer. Supposedly from a drugs overdose but we found the tell tale signature of having been a host to a symbiote. From his blood analysis, we have to say that it was brief, no more than two days."

Before Carter could raise any objections, Agatha nodded in agreement. "I know that it's dangerous and draining for a symbiote to jumps hosts so quickly but from your own reports and intelligence we've gathered from various sources, it can be done a handful of times before the danger becomes too great." Now, Agatha frowned. "Unfortunately, we think the symbiote has made all the jumps it needs to."

Cater looked up. A White House staffer... "Oh my God!"

Agatha nodded grimly. "We're not one hundred percent sure and god knows we've tried but we can't get to the President to do the necessary tests. This is where you come in."

Carter said nothing, fully understanding her role in this now. Agatha ran through it briefly anyway. "Your meeting with the NSA. The President knows about the meeting and will almost definitely stop by to see you. When he arrives..."

"I'll find out if he's a host." Carter finished flatly.

Agatha nodded, her eyes blazing with a determination that unsettled Carter deeply. "If he's a host...we'll take it from there."

* * * * * *

Carter approached the White House lobby, took a deep breath and pushed on with her mission.

12:30 ZULU
October 4th, 2005

Hammond and the six 'Chosen' officers are stood waiting at the base of the Stargate. Pulling out the small control unit Thor had given him, he held it in his hand, shrugging self-consciously at the other's smiling faces. Hammond grinned tightly and spoke out loud. "Thor? This is General Hammond."

Expecting an answer, they were fairly surprised when everything went white and they suddenly found themselves onboard the Asgard ship.

Thor and Odin were stood in front of a massive display screen which showed a wide shot of Earth, rotating slowly in space. Thor moves away from a small console and addresses the group. "I assume that the six of you have agreed to become advisors to the Asgard military."

Hammond smiled tightly. "That's right, these commanders carry experience from each of our military branches and are among the best we have to offer."

Odin moved next to Thor and studied the six soldiers. "We can't guarantee your safety, you are prepared to risk you lives for the Asgard cause?"

General McAuley, the highest-ranking officer of the six and the nominal leader of this military expedition, stepped forward. "As far as we understand it, the Asgard have gone out of their way to help earth from time to time. Eliminating the Replicators helps Earth as much as it helps you. We are willing to do whatever's necessary to remove their threat."

Odin looked at Thor and something seemed to pass silently between the two aliens. Thor looked at General Hammond. "Thank you, General Hammond, from all of the Asgard people. I am not sure what we may be able to do for you in the future but know that the Asgard never forget their debts and we are indeed, indebted to you."

As Hammond nodded slightly, Thor inclined his head. "Are you ready to return to the surface?"

Hammond looked at McAuley who grinned and offered his hand. "See you in a while, old friend."

"Look after yourself." Hammond replied. He looked towards the other five who returned his look with ready grins and prideful nods. Hammond smiled tightly and turned to Thor. "I am." And with a flash of light, Hammond disappeared.

Odin moved in front of a small control station and looked at McAuley. "Let us begin..."

13:05 ZULU
October 4th, 2005

"...I think we'll have the technical problems sorted out soon. Dual Gate operations will require a hell of a lot of co-ordination and planning but they've got some good people there and having a second facility on Earth will prove immensely useful."

The NSA looked at her curiously. "Not that I'm questioning you but I don't see how it would that big an help except as a Eastern Command Post for Earth's defensive facilities or that in the eventuality the Cheyenne Mountain facility was destroyed."

Carter nodded. "That's two of the main reasons for SGC(East) but we thought a second Gate might come in handy to prevent incoming wormhole assaults."

The NSA woman still didn't get it. Carter smiled slightly. "The wormholes can only stay active for 38 minutes, then they automatically shutdown. It's always been a race between our end and the Goa'uld end to see who can engage their Stargate first. If we could open an outgoing wormhole, it would stop them from bringing in further reinforcements."

NSA nodded in increasing comprehension. "I gather we general lose this race, then, and the Russian Gate will help us to win it for a change."

"Right." Carter agreed. "The Goa'uld have some way of dialing faster than the thirty seconds we can do it in but if we have a second Gate that starts to dial say, twenty seconds before the incoming wormhole de-activates..."

"The Russian Gate will dial out before either our gate or the Goa'uld gate can engage." The NSA completed, satisfied at having understood at least some of the arcane complexities of Stargate combat.

"Sounds like you've put some though into that tactic, Colonel." A stern voice intruded.

Both women startled slightly to see President Kinsey in the doorway of her office. Carter could see an uncomfortable looking aide standing behind the President as she stood up to greet her Commander In Chief.

Carter tried to calm herself as she stilled her thoughts and tried to recognize the strange chill she usually felt in the presence of a Goa'uld. As the President and his aide stepped into the room, her spine went cold and her mouth went dry.

Kinsey held out his hand with an amused glint in his eyes. Carter shook it automatically.

"Tell me what you know about the incident in the Kremlin..." Kinsey ordered.

Carter shook herself mentally as she half expected his eyes to glow to underline that order. "From what I gather, a Goa'uld assassin, using the body from a dead Russian SG-Delta trooper, managed to get inside the Kremlin and tried to assassinate the Russian President. It seems that one of the Russian SG troopers was at the Kremlin at the time and recognized his dead comrade. Once the Goa'uld realized his cover was blown, he pulled a hidden weapon out and started blasting. The Presidential Guard returned fire and killed him, both host and snake, sir."

Kinsey shook his head. "A shame..." At Carter's raised eyebrow, he winced slightly. "...I meant about your dead troopers being used as hosts."

Carter nodded but still felt ill at what she though Kinsey really meant. "I imagine we'll be reviving the old policy of not leaving our dead behind. It may cause more casualties in the long run but I'm not sure any of my people would like the idea of being brought back by the System Lords and used as hosts."

At her words everybody, even Kinsey, nodded. His aide coughed slightly. "Mr President, the meeting with SecState..."

Kinsey took a deep breath and smiled faintly. "I've got get going, Colonel, but it was nice meeting you again. Be sure to give O'Neill my regards."

Carter stiffened to attention slightly as the President rose. "I'll be sure to do that, sir."

* * * * * * * * * *

14:00 ZULU
October 4th, 2005

At the Lincoln Memorial, Carter walked up the steps in deep concentration...schoolchildren are running around, laughing and playing under the stare of one of the greatest figures in American history.

Looking around suddenly, she sees the mysterious Agatha standing calmly in front of the statue of Abraham Lincoln, in the bright afternoon sunshine. Approaching her, Carter feels an overwhelming sense of unreality. This entire situation has hit her harder than she would have thought possible.

Agatha stared at Carter, scrutinizing her little lost girl look. "Well...?" she asked.

Carter frowned deeply. "He's Goa'uld. The goddamned President Of The United States is a Goa'uld."

The End

Da, da, DAAAAA...

Continued in Homefront Pt 2...coming soon

It should be along soon enough, maybe around beginning of October, if not earlier. I am hoping, desperately hoping to have the Saga complete for the New Year.

Notes:

As several of you have noticed, I'm very fond of cliffhangers and curve balls in my stories.

Well, as you can see, Homefront has been a departure from my usual fight-to-the-death combat episodes. Hopefully you find it intriguing...it is all part of my 'grand vision', something that sprouted over a few beers and has resulted in this trilogy of trilogies. I got this whole 'thinking big' thing going at the minute and it seems to me to be something that the SG-1 series missed the boat on in an attempt to keep it all limited to our friends 'Jack et all' and that's how the show has ended up, limited.

I think one of the reasons people might like Spearhead is because of its bigger view of things. Granted, it's over optimistic in places but what's wrong with a little optimism.

I don't think it would be too hard to develop a space fighter from scratch to test flight in less than a year because a lot of groundwork has already been laid down. We have incredibly smart and talented people in our world, we should stop tying them down with rules and regulations and let them be smart and talented. People say that wars have advanced technological progess many times. This is a fact but only because during wars, we let smart and talented people do their thing. Why don't we do this during the peaceful times and see how far we can go then?

I don't think it would be too hard to build a coalition with the rest of the world in the face of an external threat such as the Goa'uld because events have shown that in real life, partnerships can be formed in the harshest circumstances. Sometimes, that's the only way they can be formed.

Lacking a hostile alien race such as the Goa'uld to threaten our small world, I doubt our small population of 6 billion would find the necessary focus to put aside our differences and do something good for a change.

I could be wrong. I hope I am.

Hell, see what happens when you let me in front of a keyboard at one o clock in the morning...I start to get philosophical. I'd better sign off before I get poetic.

Andrew
(John 15:13)