Defense Net Command Centre

General Stuart stood amid his officers on the lower level of the command center as they watched the seven Hat'ak's enter the Earth's atmosphere above South Africa. Another wave of ion bolts rose up to meet them but the fire was noticeably sparse and although many of the bolts hit, the Motherships shields shook the blows off and kept on coming. As the entered deeper into the atmosphere, they began to duck under the line of sight of more of the cannons and the thus the defensive fire would only get sparser and sparser. The Motherships were also firing at anything and everything. Plasma blasts flew down towards the cities, many of which were covered with shields that absorbed the assault with equanimity but more cities were defenseless and plasma blasts began to slam into the city centers and explosions that rivaled small nukes erupted, devastating the buildings and killing thousands of civilians.

The gunnery officer in command of the defense cannons bit his lip with despair. His twenty-six cannons had been spread out to provide global coverage but that deployment had been the result of political interference. The politicians like to see those big, shiny weapons sat in the middle of their major cities, blind to the fact that their placement had diluted his effective firepower. He turned to look at the General and shook his head negatively.

Stuart sighed and looked at the technician sat at the tracking. "Where are they heading?"

The senior tracking chief manipulated his console and a series of arcing lines appeared on the display. "They seem to be splitting up. Three are heading for America; four are going for Eastern Russia."

"The Stargates." Stuart finished, unsurprised for they were obvious primary targets. He turned to the Defense Net gunnery officer. "They'll be heading for the Stargate facilities low but keep an eye on them and if you have a chance, plaster them with whatever fire you can bring to bear."

The officer nodded and Stuart strode over to the communication station. "Put me through to Colonel Thorn."

Seconds later, a gruff voice was heard over the speakers. "Thorn, go."

"Colonel Thorn, General Stuart. I assume you're watching the Defense Net feed and you know what's coming your way?" Stuart called out.

"Yeah, General, a whole pisspot full of Jaffa from the looks of things." Thorn replied, his voice grim. "Each of those birds carries five Legions, sir. If you could get rid of even one before they land..."

"We'll try, Colonel, but you and the Russians may as well prepare for fifteen thousand Jaffa heading your way." Stuart replied remorselessly.

"Roger that, sir." Colonel Thorn replied steadily.

* * * * * * * * *

Flag CIC, ENS Ark Royal

Admiral Kent saw the devastation being wrought back on Earth and gripped the arms of his chair tightly, his heart filled with self-loathing at having to leave Earth to fend for itself. An alert from the tactical display brought his head up and he saw the three Shal'kra's move in front of the Dhan'hak Commandship. Seconds later, the Hat'ak's moved in front of the Shal'kra's, the entire group of Motherships assuming a spear-like formation, heading directly for the gap between the First and Third Fleets. Clouds of Death Gliders began to appear from the bowels of the Motherships and began to circle around the body of the spear, making it look for all the world like some oversized drill bit.

Almost snarling, Kent hauled himself out of his chair and moved up to the tactical display. "I want Second Fleet to jump in to this point, immediately!" He ordered, designating an area of space beneath the charging Motherships. "All ships, engage your targets!"

Commander Farrow fairly leapt towards the Flight Ops officer and gave the signal.

Outside the Ark Royal, the courier/scout Sabre received the orders and firewalled his throttles to their stops. The Sabre screamed forward, getting clear of the carrier before its hyperdrive engaged. Space twisted and bent and the fighter disappeared.

The battleships and destroyers of the First and Third Fleets charged forward and curved in on the unorthodox formation of Motherships.

Ion bolts and plasma blasts flew back and forth and the battle was joined.

* * * * * * * * *

SGC-East, Khabarovsk, Eastern Russia

General Alexander Kuryakin pounded his fist in frustration as the four Motherships heading for the 'Bright Sword' facility pounded towns and cities as they passed at low altitude, under the protective umbrella of the defense cannons. On the data feed from the SGC in Cheyenne Mountain, he could see their Motherships were almost on top of them. "Are the base cannons ready?" He asked yet again.

"Yes, General." One of his officers replied with remarkable patience. The guns had been ready for almost a week. "They are powered and oriented on the mountain range. As soon as they Motherships rise to cross the range, at least three regional cannons and the three that guard this facility will paint them. The firing solution is locked into the Defense Net."

"And no spreading of fire!" Kuryakin ordered, yet again. "Focus on one Mothership with everything we have."

The gunnery officers glanced at the satellite images showing the shattered cities the Motherships had left in their wake. "Absolutely, General."

* * * * * * * * *

The four Motherships heading towards the Russian Stargate noticed the mountain range and gained some altitude to clear them. The Jaffa commanders on board knew that they would become visible to a handful of cannons but they wouldn't be enough to penetrate their shields.

They were wrong. The cannons guarding the Stargate facilities in Russia and America had remained silent and powered down and thus, the Mothership commanders assumed that no cannons had been stationed there; a logical assumption in the face of the less than optimal deployment of cannons around the globe.

As the four pyramidal ships raised themselves above the Mountain range, no less than seven cannons suddenly had a target and the gunnery office in the Defense Net Command Centre bared his teeth in satisfaction as he selected the lead Mothership and pressed a button.

A volley of ion bolts erupted from the cannons and slammed into the lead Mothership from four directions. The shields collapsed immediately and the cluster of three cannons at the surface of the Bright Sword facility went to rapid fire and shot after shot slammed into base of the golden pyramid. Armour melted and ran as the concentrated fire drilled its way deep into the heart of the Mothership. In less than a minute, the fire had reached the reactor and the Mothership disappeared in a blinding, white explosion that rivaled a supernova.

The other three Motherships were smashed aside by the blast, one actually sliding into the peak of a mountain, its metal hull screeching in agony as it tore against the rock face. They quickly regained control though and the Motherships opened fire upon the base.

Plasma blast after plasma blast hit the shields of the base as the Motherships dived behind a large ridge at the base of the mountain range. The Jaffa commanders saw they were close enough and decided to land under the cover of the ridge and send the Legions across the surface in a ground assault. Once they had neutralized the cannons, the Motherships could move in closer for support.

* * * * * * * * *

The personnel manning the command center in the Bright Sword facility were cheering wildly as the lead Mothership blew. Kuryakin barked at the center personnel to resume their posts as the base began to shake noticeably and a deep, pounding beat could be heard as the surviving Motherships opened fired upon the shield protecting the Bright Sword facility.

He pressed a button on control pad built into the arm of his chair. "All base personnel will prepare for combat. The 285th and 191st Motor Rifle divisions are on the surface but there are no guarantees they will be able to hold. Lock the base down!" He ordered.

All over the Russian facility, troops, technicians, engineers and scientists ran purposefully to their emergency stations as doors and bulkheads began to close and lock automatically.

The pounding stopped as the Motherships landed behind the Kresta Ridge, five kilometers south of the base.

The tanks, BMPs and infantry of the two Motor Rifle divisions looked up from their trenches after the final volley of plasma blasts washed over the still intact theatre shields protecting the facility. The Motherships were nowhere to be seen and one or two soldiers actually cheered thinking they had been driven off but they were soon slapped into quietness as their sergeants patiently explained that the alien vessels had simply landed out of sight and fifteen thousand Jaffa and their supporting Scorpions were about to come crawling over the scrub plains between the base and the ridge with the intent of capturing the Stargate and, oh, by the way, killing everyone between them and it.

The Russian soldiers gripped their rifles tighter and waited for the enemy to come.

SNS Path To Freedom, Second Fleet

Admiral J'Thuk had been ready to disobey orders when communication was lost with rest of the Fleet but his Flight Ops officer had suggested that Admiral Kent would send a scout to give Second Fleet the word when necessary.

The Admiral of the bear-like Sintesians had smiled at his Flight Ops officer as a scout/courier had flashed into existence just outside the asteroid belt and had begun transmitting instructions over radio. Less than a minute later, Second Fleet had streamed out of its hiding place among the asteroid belt and had formed up ready for jump.

"Jump!" J'Thuk growled out and the female Sintesian at the helm practically slammed her hand down on the helm controls. The space around the fleet rippled and twisted as one after the other, the battleships and destroyers of Second Fleet leapt into hyperspace.

Everyone on the bridge watched their displays as the fleet crossed the relatively small gulf of interplanetary space quickly. Seconds passed like hours and after an eternity, the helm computer signaled its arrival. The swirl of hyperspace outside the view ports distorted and melted away to reveal ships ripping into each other with ion and plasma. Explosions filled the area around them as fighters won and lost their individual engagements.

Even as J'Thuk hauled himself out of his chair, targeting assignments flooded over the Fleet data-link from Admiral Kent. Second Fleet had arrived directly underneath the second wave of Goa'uld vessels.

The three battleships and eighteen destroyers of Second Fleet opened fire on the surprised Motherships a Shal'kra and two Hat'ak's exploded under the punishment.

The crew cheered but then it was Bast's turn and the Dhan'hak class Commandship rolled over, clearing its field of fire and unleashed its impressive firepower upon the ships of Second Fleet.

"Helm, evasive action, put us amongst the Motherships!" J'Thuk cried out as a battleship and five destroyers ceased to exist.

Second Fleet accelerated to full speed and charged upward, right into the formation of Shal'kra's and Hat'ak's. The maneuver allowed them to engage the Union vessels without exposing themselves to fire from that Commandship.

"All batteries, fire at will!"

Mothership 'Promise of Death', Colorado, United States

The Jaffa Second Pha'tok, who was in command of the squadron of three Motherships, smiled ferally as he watched the aft monitors display the burning cities they had left in their wake as they had passed over the densely populated coastline, heading for the sparse interior.

They had taken light fire from a handful of cannons as they headed inland but they had not stuck around to fight and their damage had been light.

Now they were less than five minutes out from the Tau'ri base that was hidden under a mountain. Their Motherships sensors could still easily detect the Chappa'ai emanations and homed in unerringly down upon their target. They would land their Mothership directly upon the Tau'ri base, as had been done before, and overwhelm their defenses with sheer numbers.

That was exactly the method they had been trying to train out of the Jaffa codex but this was a particular tactical situation for which there was only one way to achieve you goal; to advance in the face of enemy fire and take your casualties while inflicting losses upon your numerically inferior opponent.

"Second, we're approaching the Tau'ri mountain base." A Jaffa reported.

"Ready weapons! I want no surprises!" He ordered firmly. They had listened to the reports from the other Mothership squadron that had penetrated the planet's atmosphere and was attacking the other facility.

An alarm beeped as the mountain base crested on the horizon and quickly began to grow large as the Motherships sped towards it.

"We're being targeted!" Another Jaffa announced.

"Return the favor! Target their defense cannons!" Pha'tok roared.

The Jaffa manning the weapons station grunted softly as he subtly moved the controls under his hands, directing the weapons of his Motherships towards the base of the mountain. On his targeting display, three energy signatures blossomed that were immediately identified as Tau'ri heavy ion cannons. He immediately locked them up and opened fire. The other two Motherships followed his lead and unleashed their weaponry as well.

A stream of orange plasma blasts reached out from the Motherships and splashed over the shields protecting the mountain.

Defense Line Alpha, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, United States

Colonel Thorn stood in the forward trench of Defense Line Alpha and shielded his eyes as the intense energy of the shields and the impacting plasma blasts blazed and crackled overhead. Line Alpha, and the company of soldiers stationed there, was situated at the entrance of the valley that led two kilometers down the road towards the entrance of NORAD and the SGC-West. Another two companies held the ridges to either side the valley and another company held Line Beta. All in all, he had a battalion of troops outside the mountain with another inside and that was all he could reasonably fit in the immediate area. There was another two battalions of mechanized infantry hiding in the nearby city of Boulder, along with prototype regiment of Abrams tanks, the 1st Armoured.

They would wait for the Motherships to disgorge their troops before a series of counterattacks would begin from outside the base while he tried his hardest to holdout with only two thousand men.

On the side of the massive mountain behind him, the three Sintesian ion cannons sat purposefully, facing outward to protect the base from an attacker. All eyes turned to the ion cannons, however, as their servomechanisms and base rings rotated the ion cannons around so that they all faced in one direction.

"Aww hell..." Thorn cursed as he realized that the Motherships were almost upon them. Before he could open his mouth and pass orders to his troops, the capacitors of the ion cannons whined with growing energy and their barrel tips began to glow an intense white. The whine grew for several seconds before the barrels of the three cannons recoiled suddenly, unleashing three large bolts of concentrated ion flux towards the closing Motherships. Five seconds later, the cannons fired again. And again.

Cheers broke out among some of his people as they realized that the Motherships were probably taking a pounding. Thorn walked over to the side of the forward trench towards a lookout using an oversized pair of binoculars called 'Big-eyes'. "Let borrow your 'eye's for a second, soldier." He ordered politely.

The young Corporal nodded jerkily and immediately moved aside to let the Colonel use the tripod-mounted binoculars. Thorn looked out in the direction of the ion cannon fire but all he could see was intense flashes of light he assumed was impacting bolts of energy against a Goa'uld shield.

His digital radio beeped for attention and an urgent voice immediately followed. "Thorn, this is Stuart, tell your people to get their heads down and their fannies tucked in tight 'cause the whole worlds about to drop on them! Literally!"

Thorn quickly passed the order to 'get small' in their fox holes and trenches before returning to his radio link with General Stuart in the Ring, in England. "General?"

A heavy sigh drifted over the link. "The ion cannons on the mountain have hit one of your Motherships pretty hard but they haven't enough punch to destroy it and it seems to be out of control or Hek'at has figured out the benefits of the 'divine wind'..."

"You're joking!" Thorn exclaimed gruffly. "It's gonna crash on the shield?"

Several nearby troopers looked up in worry as they heard that. The Colonel shook his head in disgust as he finished on the radio and looked up to see the soldiers in the trenches look up at him with obvious worry.

"Get small and tight." He advised grimly. "One of the Motherships appears to be on a collision course with the mountain. The shield should hold but..."

Several soldiers cursed before hugging the bottom sides of the trenches tight. Thorn looked through the big eyes once more and found he could now easily see the approaching Motherships. The two intact vessels had spread to either side of the damaged one and appeared to be slowing down as the middle one came speeding on, remorselessly, flames streaming from gaping holes in its hull, even as ion bolts continued to pound the already shattered front of the Mothership.

Thorn watched for several more seconds before diving towards the bottom of the trench, screaming the word, "INCOMING!" as the massive Mothership swooped low over their heads and seemed to drop on top of the mountain. The forward sections of the secondary hull hit the shield canopy in a shower of sparks and screeching metal as it crumpled under the impact, collapsing in upon itself before a flash streamed out from the inner sections of the mortally wounded ship and the world around the base turned white.

* * * * * * * * * *

Pha'tok watched with mixed feelings as the 'War Bringer' slammed into the shield protecting the Tau'ri and exploded in an intense ball of energy that sent wreckage flying for kilometers in every direction.

He was sad for the loss of so many Jaffa, pride that the surviving ship commander had managed to hold his half-dead vessel on course and awe that the impact and resulting explosion had ripped away the Tau'ri shields that would have made the battle a lot tougher.

"Target the ion cannons and destroy them!" He ordered savagely.

The plasma blasts from the two Motherships slammed into the side of Cheyenne Mountain and annihilated the unprotected cannons in white fire. The capacitors and naquada generators were breached almost immediately and the resulting detonation shattered the top of the mountain, leaving a jagged crest and broken rubble everywhere.

Pha'tok frowned with disgruntlement as he realized he had just destroyed his primary landing spot. "Land us at the secondary zone alongside the 'Suppressor'. And open fire upon the ground defenders as we pass over them. The least we can do is rid ourselves of the surface troops before we have to dig the rest out of the mountain."

* * * * * * * * * *

Engineers deep inside Cheyenne Mountain were busy frantically ripping out shattered fuses and destroyed circuits from the shield generators and restoring main power to the system.

"How much longer?" The detail supervisor asked nervously.

"Five minutes!" An engineer replied, even as he grabbed a handful of burnt wiring from inside an open panel on one of the generators and yanked it out ruthlessly. Another technician dived in immediately afterward and began to connect fresh wiring to the panel, working quickly from a circuit diagram. All around the generator facility, engineers and technicians swarmed over the smoking machinery, trying to bring it back to some semblance of life. Even partial shields would be strong enough to provide the surface defenders with some cover.

The supervisor looked over at the Major beside him whose lips tightened in a grimace before reporting the estimate to the Command Centre.

* * * * * * * * * *

Colonel Thorn looked up as the Motherships flew overhead, plasma blasts slamming into the ridgeline, killing his troopers, and prayed the shields would come back on quickly.

Goa'uld Commandship 'War Hammer'

Hek'at studied the reports filtering back from the surface of the planet as their two assault forces began their attacks. The losses at each site were disheartening but not unsurprising. That was why they had detailed four Motherships to each attack.

"The attack upon the 'Russian' Chappa'ai proceeds accordingly." Hek'at mused as the display flickered with a continual, real-time display of the situation on the surface, at both locations. "The attack upon the main facility under the mountain, however, falters." He added.

Bast frowned and turned from the tactical display and the fleet battle to look at the secondary display that Hek'at was intently studying.

"The Tau'ri have managed to restore their canopy shield that protects the mountain installation but Pha'tok is confident of wearing it down under a close range bombardment." He'kat reported.

Bast shook her head. "We haven't the time. I need the Chappa'ai secured immediately and it will take him at least an hour to bring down that shield with only two vessels, even if it is damaged. Tell them both to proceed with a ground assault and with all haste!"

Hek'at nodded in agreement and sent the orders to both Seconds down on the surface of the Tau'ri world. When that was done, he turned back to the display.

"What shall we do about the Tau'ri ships. Their damnable fighters have worn down our udajeet complements to almost nothing. Their bomber squadrons are proving hard to handle without adequate cover from the Death Gliders and that force of ships that appeared at our bellies has cost us sorely. The maniacs are practically skimming the hulls of our Motherships whose commanders hardly dare fire upon them for fear of hitting our own ships!"

Grimacing, Bast studied the display silently for a moment. "Their fleet appears to have its hands full with the rest of the second wave. Let the Motherships occupy their fleet while we take the 'War Hammer' around and attack Earth directly."

Hek'at smiled in sudden realization. "That surprise force must have been the last of their reserves. They have nothing left with which to stop us." He added. "Helm, take us around the battle zone and put us in orbit around the planet."

"There are a number of large, shielded weapon platforms in high orbit." A Jaffa Second cautioned.

Hek'at dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "I doubt they have enough firepower to threaten the 'Hammer. But never the less, we shall concentrate on Earth's defenses first which will allow us to take our time upon their cities."

Defense Perimeter, SGC-East, Khabarovsk, Russia

Colonel Alexi Sulakov flinched as a heavy cannon blast impacted near his position. The hastily scraped foxholes where he and his command team lay were to the left of the Jaffa penetration of the perimeter. The Jaffa forces had come out from behind the Kresta Ridge and marched quickly across the scrub plains, barely pausing to reform into an attack echelon, which then proceeded to hurl itself against the two Motor Rifle divisions with incredible ferocity.

The Jaffa appeared to be learning how to use combined arms as well since their attack had been preceded by a heavy artillery barrage, followed by a lay-down of smoke that obscured efforts to attack the charging Jaffa and Scorpions until they were almost on top of the perimeter.

The 285th Motor Rifle had borne the brunt of the attack and, although holding the line for almost thirty minutes against the first wave of Jaffa, a second wave of almost three thousand Jaffa had decisively broken the perimeter along a one-kilometer stretch, forcing the remnants of the 285th to withdraw to the inner secondary defenses. Sulakov had ordered two regiments of T-99 tanks to hold the edges of the penetration along the perimeter while he re-organized his reserves to contain the breakthrough in a new defensive line, forming a bulge in which they could hopefully contain the Jaffa.

Like most professional soldiers, he was a student of history and the irony of the tactical situation was not lost upon him, for his grandfather had helped perform the same maneuver upon the attacking German Army during their last attempted breakout in the late stages of WW2.

Regardless of history, Sulakov didn't intend for the Jaffa to win either.

"Colonel!" His radioman called out. "Sector 12 is reporting a new wave of Jaffa closing in from the south, at least four Legions!"

Sulakov cursed, knowing what he was going to have to do but not seeing any other choice. "Contact one of the last two battalions from the reserve and send them south towards to Sector 12!"

His executive officer raised his head slightly out of his foxhole, looked over at Sulakov and shook his head wearily. "They can't have many more troops available. We've counted at least nine Legions so far..."

"Whereas three Hat'ak Class Motherships can carry up to fifteen Legions." Sulakov interrupted. "Where the hell are my reinforcements?"

The radioman looked up from his position. "I'm getting reports from the base at PVO Domets that they took some incoming fire as the Motherships headed our way. Damage was relatively minor but it has turned everything to chaos at the base. They say it will be another thirty minutes until they can untangle their mess and be on their way here! STAVKA and Defense Net Command are apparently also making other arrangements!"

Sulakov frowned. STAVKA, the Russian military high command appeared to be optimistic if they think that they could get anybody else here in less than three hours. There were no Russian bases closer than PVO Domets and add thirty minutes of transit time to their thirty minutes of 'untangling' meant that it would be an hour until anyone else arrived. In an hour, they might be totally screwed.

From another foxhole, the company's tactical air controller looked up at Sulakov. "Colonel, air support is incoming, two squadrons of Backfires with heavy iron, three minutes out. They're asking for a target!"

Sulakov smiled fiercely. "Tell them to hit the four Legions that are heading for Sector 12!"

* * * * * * * * * *

The Backfire pilots were pressed back in their ejection seats as they throttled their heavy bombers past the speed of sound. Low to the ground, their shockwave obliterated trees and blasted snow off the ground as they streaked towards their target.

The bombardier in the lead plane scanned the horizon for his target, knowing that he would have only a few seconds to designate, lock and release his bombs once the pilot slowed and popped up to release altitude.

"Coming up on target." The pilot reported tersely.

The bombardier felt his guts shift and the bomber suddenly flew upwards like the jet it really was and he stared even harder at his screens. "There!" He exclaimed as he found the Jaffa columns and targeted them with a laser.

"Bombs away!" He called as he slammed the fire button.

The other twenty odd Backfires following the lead plane all found up the lead targeting laser and dropped their bombs one after the other.

Explosion after explosion rippled across the top of the Jaffa's formation shield, protecting them from the blasts and overpressure of the tons of explosive crashing down upon them. Unfortunately, twenty Backfires carried a lot of high explosive and the massive explosions were steadily draining the power of the formation shield. The last eight bombs from the last Backfire to drop its weapons flew downwards at close to three hundred miles an hour, only to fly past the dissipating fire of the previous explosions and past the now completely drained shield. The eight bombs slammed into the rear lines of Jaffa and exploded, clouds of fire rippling across their lines with secondary explosions, killing the better part of two Legions instantly.

The men on the ground cheered but the pilots of the Backfire screamed as they suddenly found themselves targeted by numerous Jaffa on the ground and the two Motherships behind the Kresta Ridge. Staff and plasma blasts filled the air about the fighters as they swerved and twitched in an attempt to evade but it was to no avail and one after the other, they were shredded by the storm of energy that had erupted around them.

* * * * * * * * * *

Colonel Sulakov watched as the twenty-three Backfires were swatted from the sky in less than a minute. He gave them a silent salute before he cocked the firing lever on his AK-74 and turning his attention to the line of Jaffa that was emerging from the smoke cloud in front of him and then there was no more time for thinking or for orders, only killing.

Defense Line Beta, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, United States

Colonel Thorn grimaced as he shifted his right arm into a more comfortable position. It was heavily bandaged after taking a glancing blow from a staff weapon, merely causing deep burns to his shoulder.

The Jaffa had pressed his people heavily and things were looking grim. The companies outside the base had been slaughtered before the techs inside the mountain could restore the shields. Barely five hundred had survived out of the thousand that had been emplaced outside and they had had no choice but to retreat back to Defense Line Beta.

Command informed him that the battalions in Boulder were pushing against thousands of Jaffa still outside the valley leading up to Cheyenne Mountain but they weren't whether they would be able to punch through in time to save the base.

A major approached him; a wrap covered his left eye, blood beginning to seep through the thick bandage. "Sir, we've got the automated guns set up at most of the approach points and we've started filtering people down to the lower levels."

Thorn nodded wearily. The Jaffa had stormed his lines with almost fanatical determination and they were now well inside the surface level of Cheyenne Mountain in force. The massive metal door, nearly six-foot thick, solid steel, had held them up for barely twenty minutes. But it had been enough to set up the automated guns that would cover their retreat as the remaining topside force heading into the bowels on the mountain. With a little luck, they could tie the Jaffa up long enough for the cavalry to arrive and get them off their backs.

He hoped.

* * * * * * * *

Defense Net Command Centre

O'Neill had moved down to the ground floor in order to see first-hand how the ground defense was going.

General Stuart never turned away from his screens as he explained tersely that his conventional forces were being murdered. "We've had some success in Russia with conventional air strikes but only because the Motherships don't have a good field of fire, hiding behind the ridge as they are. The Motherships in Colorado are another kettle of fish though. They're sat in fairly open terrain and though they can't hit the base, they can range on any aircraft that pops up over the horizon to take a potshot at the Jaffa."

O'Neill frowned. "The B-52 strike?"

"Slaughtered before they managed to drop a bomb." Stuart replied in a dark voice. "The Stealth's did a bit better but only with their first strike. The Motherships knew what to look for the second time round and took out four planes before the rest could hightail it out of there."

He turned fully towards O'Neill. "Can you turn me loose a Pegasus squadron or two?"

O'Neill shook his head. "We're barely holding our own up there and it's only the bomber squadrons that are keeping them back. I can't spare any of the new birds."

General Stuart glanced at his tactical display. "Then pray our boys on the ground can hold because if they get to a Stargate, the game's over."

Admiral Patterson cursed and leaned over the railing, towards O'Neill and Stuart. "General!" He called out. "That damned Commandship is moving into orbit! I'm engaging with the weapon platforms and the remaining mines in that sector but I've got nothing else to stop it with..."

O'Neill clenched his fists in despair and frustration. Was it all over?

* * * * * * * *

Hek'at grinned as another Tau'ri unmanned weapon platform was pelted with heavy plasma blasts. Its shields were impressively strong for its reactor was unhindered by life-support and extravagant computer support but the two-hundred metre platform was being attacked by a vessel 30 times its size and 30,000 times it mass. The weapon platform blew apart under the fire, even as its remaining siblings fired continuously upon the behemoth that was methodically killing them.

The 'Overseer', the lead Shal'kra Mothership under the command of Lady Amun'sul, was engaging the remnants of the Tau'ri fleet and she had informed him that they were surrounded by Tau'ri vessels but were confident of victory as the slaves refused to hold their ships in one place long enough for them to do any serious amount of damage.

The situation on the surface wasn't going so well but that was alright, the 'War Hammer' would be finished with Earth's defenses soon and it could focus its complete attention upon the shielded cities. Even now, however, a few cannon emplacements that weren't engaging the platforms were firing down upon the surface.

This was something every System Lord had dreamed about for years. And now he was finally doing it. He looked up and saw Bast with a similar smile of contentment upon her lovely face. His eyes twinkled at eye before returning to the display.

They were almost done.

* * * * * * * *

1st Armored Regiment, eight kilometers west of Cheyenne Mountain

Captain Walsh scanned the ridgeline in front of him with eminent satisfaction. The Jaffa troops lining that ridge were being pounded by artillery and direct fire from his upgraded Abrams. As his regiment of tanks had moved out from the tree line, the handful of Scorpions on the ridge had opened fire; their plasma blasts slamming into the frontal armour and for the most part dissipating, leaving the tanks intact. Only one tank had dropped out of the line as the plasma blast had slammed into his left track, rendering the eighty-ton vehicle immobile. The Scorpions had, however, been inundated with ion cannon fire from the Abrams, their shields quickly becoming overwhelmed and their armour proving to be near useless. Now only craters remained, dotting the landscape like so many ruptured pustules.

On the other side of the ridge however, sat two Motherships. 1st Armoured was leading the way for the 25th Armoured Division and the 8th Mechanized Division that were ready to counter-attack the Jaffa that were swarming over the Cheyenne Mountain defenders. The tanks and infantry carriers of these two divisions were powerful formations, with fairly effective weaponry against Goa'uld technology as long as they had the numbers. The downside was that they didn't have the ability to take any punishment. A single heavy energy blast could take out an un-enhanced Abrams with ease and so as the two divisions charged forward, it would be up to the 1st Regiment to attract the fire of the Motherships for only they had the armor to take it. The bright side was that the stubby ion cannons on the M1A4 would certainly attract their attention.

"Tiger two-one to all units, when you crest the ridge, aim for the heavy cannons on the Motherships. If we can render them toothless, we can mop up the Jaffa conventionally." Walsh explained.

"8th Mech and the 25th Armoured is in position." The radio announced. "We have another air-strike coming in to distract the Motherships!"

Captain Walsh smiled in satisfaction and wished he had a bugle to sound the charge. "All units, advance!"

Along a two-kilometer front on the other side of the ridge, artillery shells began to fall, laying down a thick cloud of multi-spectral smoke. Six hundred Abrams tanks and almost four hundred Bradley's crested the ridge and charged into the smoke, their weapons blazing fire.

A roar went up amongst the Jaffa on the ground as they turned to meet the charge.

ENS Shinano

"Incoming hyperspace signatures!" A sensor tech called out. "Capital ship size! They're between us and the Commandship!"

"Enemy reinforcements." Captain Renato replied grimly, swiping a sleeve across her forehead, clearing away the blood that was beginning to trickle down the side of her face. "How many?"

The sensor tech's face paled and looked like he'd been punched in the gut as the computer tracked the radiation wave fronts and displayed its results. "At least fifteen, ma'am."

"Put it on the main screen." Renato ordered.

Despite the rumble of battle through the hull of the ship, the bridge was deathly silent as the image of gigantic Commandship appeared on the forward viewer that stretched across the bridge.

The area of space around the massive Goa'uld vessel began to twist and rupture, as fifteen separate points appeared where normal space and hyperspace merged, almost violently. There were several flashes of light and starships began to appear.

A rumble of confusion passed over the bridge as the golden pyramids they were expecting didn't appear. Instead, silver-grey ships, shaped like flattened balls appeared alongside weird coral-like structures that looked like horizontal charcoal trees. The vessels wasted no time before ruby red beams lashed out from the silver vessels and bolts of green energy erupted from the amongst the branches of the vessel, slamming against the obviously surprised Commandship.

"Who the hell do those ships belong to?" Renato barked out.

"Energy signatures are being processed now, Captain...the computer is recognizing some of them as Tollan!"

"What?" Renato asked in amazement.

* * * * * * * *

"Admiral Kent, we're receiving an incoming communiqué from the lead Tollan vessel...a Chancellor Althin of the Curia wishes to speak with you, sir."

Kent leaned heavily on the handrail near his chair as he felt his knees almost weaken. The Tollan... "Put him through, Lieutenant."

All eyes turned to the main screen as a middle-aged man, immaculately dressed, looked out from what appeared to be a seat on the bridge of his vessel. From what Kent could see, the bridge appeared to be dome shaped, with white walls and holographic displays that ran the circumference of the room.

"Admiral Kent, a pleasure to speak with you." Chancellor Althin greeted him with barely detectable haste. "I realize this must come as somewhat of a shock but the Curia decided we couldn't allow Earth to fall. We lent some persuasion to the Adenan to join us in this fight and we came as soon as we could."

"Your arrival couldn't be more perfect, Chancellor." Kent replied wearily.

Althin nodded seriously. "The Commander of this fleet asks me to inform you that we are sending five ships to assist you as you continue your assault upon the rest of the Goa'uld fleet. We shall handle the 'War Hammer'."

Kent smiled gratefully. "Acknowledge, Chancellor. We'll talk more later. Admiral Kent, out."

As the Chancellor disappeared from the viewer, to be replaced by a tactical view of the fight, Kent turned to face the rest of the CIC.

"Alright, people, you heard the man. Let's get to it!" He called out, energized by the sudden appearance of allies they didn't realize they had.

"Helm, come to course 149, mark 350, half speed. Com, contact those Tollan vessels and get them to hit the Goa'uld flanks, tell the Path to Freedom to..."

The Flag staff burst to life as the orders came thick and fast and, revitalized, they set their hearts and minds to winning this fight once and for all.

* * * * * * * *

Hek'at stared helplessly at the main viewscreen as it showed the compact, silver oval shaped Tollan vessels and the spiky, dark grey, tree-like vessels of the Adenan's flash into normal space all around the massive Commandship. The 'War Hammer' rocked hard as the Tollan and Adenan ships opened fire, intense red beams and fiery green bolts of energy raking the Dhan'hak class vessel mercilessly.

Bast cursed as she saw the Tau'ri ships conform to the new ships tactics. Whoever was in command of the Tau'ri fleet began to concentrate solely on her remaining Shal'kra and Hat'ak Motherships as the Tollan and Adenan focused upon her Commandship.

"Shield energy falling!" A Jaffa called out anxiously. "80% and dropping!"

Hek'at slammed a fist into the nearest bulkhead. "Reinforce! Divert power from the weapons!"

"The 'Overseer' is requesting assistance! The Tau'ri vessels have re-grouped with five Tollan ships and are beginning to break their defenses!"

Bast moved towards the command console and the Jaffa Second there. "Order Lady Amun'sul and all remaining ships to close formation with the 'Hammer' and put us on an outbound course."

As the Jaffa helmsman complied with the order, Bast moved closed to Hek'at and spoke urgently and quietly. "We need to cut our losses, my love."

Hek'at's face became impassive at the sudden turn of events. "Retreat?"

Bast nodded with manifest unwillingness.

The bridge shook hard again as shield power dropped suddenly as a wing of surviving Pegasus bombers swept past, missiles and bombs flying and cannons blasting away at the 6km vessel. The shields glowed intensely under the constant bombardment from the varied and numerous vessels surrounding it. Any Alliance vessel that had a powered weapon pointed towards the Commandship seemed to be firing upon it. Beams and bolts of energy slammed into it from all sides.

Hek'at's mouth set into a thin line. "The question is, will O'Neill let us retreat?"

* * * * * * * *

The sudden acceleration of the Motherships away from the battle caught the Alliance fleet by surprise. The reaction-less drives of the Goa'uld vessels allowed for radical course changes and the pilots of the Motherships used that advantage to great effect, allowing them to almost instantly reverse direction.

The Tollan and Adenan vessels were just as quick off the mark but they kept formation with the rest of the Alliance Fleet as the remaining Earth, Sintesian, Polarian, Entrican and Gryphonese vessels laboriously turned around and began to chase the Motherships.

Shots continued to be exchanged but once the Motherships had cleared the gravity well of Earth, they jumped into hyperspace.

Cheers broke out amongst the crews of the Fleet but they were quickly put on hold as they were reminded of the handful of Motherships parked on the ground, back on Earth, that were currently pasting the defenders of the two Stargate installations.

Admiral Kent quickly passed out the orders and the Fleet headed back to Earth orbit. Those Motherships weren't going anywhere.

Level 21, SGC-West, Cheyenne Mountain

Colonel Thorn snarled in anger as he let loose a continuous stream of fire from his SAW, down the corridor at the charging Jaffa, emptying the 200-round ammo box in seconds. The Jaffa Cohorts were almost through to level 22, one more level down and they were at the Stargate.

The sounds of intense combat echoed through the entire level as the remnants of his battalion fought a losing battle back to the 'Gate. One of his men had suggested powering up the Stargate and using it to bring over reinforcements from Spearhead. At the time, Thorn had denied the request as that would require taking the Iris down to level 1, taking the 'plug' away from the center of the naquada ring and giving the gate space for a wormhole to form. The Goa'uld had, however, displayed an impressive ability to activate a Stargate in a very short time. Faster than he thought the Command Centre would be able to dial out. Allowing the Stargate to work would have merely allowed Jaffa to breach their rear area and that was a risk they couldn't have taken.

Then.

Now the situation was getting desperate.

Thorn quickly and automatically reloaded his SAW, as his escorts fired down the corridor, cutting down the rest of the charging Jaffa. A handful of seconds later and Thorn was reloaded. He tensed himself and leaned out into the corridor, ready to fire on any Jaffa he saw. Smoke drifted across the bodies that littered the long space but all was eerily silent.

The Corporal that leaded against the corner of the wall across from him looked his way. "Colonel, can you hear that?"

Fearing a new trick, Thorn ceased all motion and strained his ears for the sound of shifting Jaffa. Strangely, he couldn't hear anything. All the sounds of combat had fallen off and silence reigned throughout the base.

"Have they retreated?" He wondered out loud.

The Corporal frowned and twisted backwards. "Parker, Mordechai, with me!" He whispered urgently.

Thorn said nothing as the three young but veteran soldiers moved slowly down the corridor, their weapons pointed at the far end, tense fingers on their triggers.

What seemed like an eternity later, they reached the end of the corridor and the Corporal literally lowered his weapon and scratched his head. "Sir, they're gone!"

The radio began to buzz with confused soldiers wonder where the Jaffa in their sectors had gone as well.

What the hell? Thorn thought.

Inner Defense Perimeter, SGC-East, Khabarovsk, Russia

Colonel Sulakov grunted stoically as the latest Jaffa attack overran his outer line of defense. They had taken heavy losses but the attack had decisively broken his lines and Jaffa were beginning to spread out into his inner area that was held by tired and wounded troopers.

His two divisions defending the Bright Sword facility now amounted to less than a brigade, barely six thousand men in all, hardly any of which were in good condition, almost all were low on ammo. Frontal Aviation had continued to make low-level air strikes but the majority of each successive wave was blotted out of the sky. Even so, they continued to come and they were possibly the only thing that had held the Jaffa back so far, which made him thankful that the Fleet had been able to keep their udajeet complement occupied.

Alexi snorted. On the other hand, a couple of squadrons of Pegasus bombers would have made mincemeat of these guys but they were occupied keeping the udajeets occupied. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.

A murmur passed amongst the surrounding Russian troopers as new wave of Scorpions and Jaffa had arrived from the Motherships behind the Kresta Ridge and they were now assembling for the final attack.

His radioman had been killed earlier and all he had was a tactical radio unit but the chatter over it began to increase. Alexi initially though it signaled the start of the Jaffa attack but as he studied the area in front of him, the Jaffa were still reforming.

Suddenly, a swarm of missiles streaked in from behind him and slammed into the Jaffa and their equipment. Scorpions faltered and exploded and Jaffa were scythed down by a spray of heavy caliber bullets.

Sulakov's head whipped round to see a veritable cloud of helicopters streak across the base behind him, barely ten feet off the deck. Their chin-mounted guns 'buurrpped' as heavy caliber bullets reached out like a finger of God and cut down the charging Jaffa like wheat.

He squinted at the stubby attack helicopters and the red flag on the fuselage. "The Chinese?" He wondered out loud. Even as he watched, large twin rotored transports pulled up and disgorged thousands of fresh, fully equipped soldiers who ran forward and began to drop into the trenches amongst the Russian soldiers. Despite the obvious language difficulties, the Russian embraced their saviors who smiled ferally before passing out ammunition and then opening fire on the still numerous Jaffa.

A squad of Chinese marines dropped into the trench beside Sulakov and began to pass out Kalashnikov clips. Sulakov took several from a Chinese soldier who recognized his rank and stiffened to attention. He smiled and spoke hesitantly in Russian. "Hope we...not late?"

Sulakov felt a fierce surge of friendship for this man and his brethren who had come to his aid. Alexi smiled broadly and gripped the man's shoulder in greeting as they moved over to the trench and began to fight once more, pushing the Jaffa back from their land.

Level 1, SGC-West, Cheyenne Mountain

Thorn and his reinforced platoon made up from the survivors of Level 21 had backtracked all the way up to the surface levels. The rest of his battalion was still dug in on level 22 while he figured out what was going on.

Purposefully, his platoon spread out and made their way through the demolished NORAD checkpoints in the main entrance and onto the surface level. As the pushed opened a set of jammed doors, intense light flooded the area. What should have been the main security checkpoint and a two-hundred ton steel door was now exposed wide open space. Daylight streamed in from the long, massive corridor that led out of the Mountain and silhouetted in that entrance was what appeared to be a heavily modified Abrams tank.

"It's all right, they're our guys!" A voice called out jubilantly from the end of the tunnel.

Thorn and his squad moved forward hesitantly as a man jumped down from the top of the heavily battered looking tank and walked over to meet them.

The tank commander, a captain, halted in front of Thorn and assumed a stiff parade ground stance and saluted. "Captain Walsh, Tank two-one, 1st Armoured Regiment, Colonel. Are we glad to see you!"

"Captain?" Thorn asked hoarsely as he returned the salute.

Walsh smiled broadly. "We kicked butt all the way to get here, sir. When we couldn't raise anybody down there, we'd though you'd all perished, sir..."

"There's a jamming device still active down there, somewhere..." Thorn replied absently. "We're all bottled up on level 22."

Walsh nodded in understanding as squads of troops from the 8th Mech started streaming past his tank and headed down into the facility. "Well, those guys will go down and flush out any remaining Jaffa but if you made it all the way to the surface without meeting anyone, I'd say it's a good bet that they kept attacking to the last man when they realized the we had taken the surface."

Thorn nodded, the truth beginning to sink in. "We held." He finished.

The tank commander held out his hand that Thorn met with his own and they shook firmly. "Sure as hell, Colonel."

19:36 ZULU, February 22nd 2010
Defense Net Command Centre

"...and Rear Admiral Haster informs me that he'll have half of our remaining ships back to at least seventy percent capacity within three days." Admiral Kent reported quietly. "After which, I'll be dispatching most of them back on station amongst the rest of the Alliance. They can finish their repair work using the local facilities."

O'Neill, sat in the command chair, at the center of the balcony, nodded wearily at the face of Admiral Kent that filled the massive, two story wall screen. Kent was still onboard the Ark Royal, seeing to the desperate repairs to his ships and the transfer of the wounded to Earth. His console began to beep for attention. "Hold on, Admiral." O'Neill said, and punched a button on the console. "O'Neill." He announced.

A young voice filtered over the speaker. "Sir, I have an incoming communiqué from Chancellor Althin onboard the Virtuous."

O'Neill smiled slightly and looked up at Kent, who grinned unabashedly. "We'll finish up later, General. Kent, out." The Admiral finished quickly, before his face disappeared from the screen.

Shaking his head, O'Neill sat upright in his chair. "Put the Chancellor on the main screen." He ordered.

A second later, the screen changed and Chancellor Althin smooth, urbane presence filled the screen. "Supreme Commander O'Neill." Althin greeted him warmly.

O'Neill smiled. "So formal, Chancellor." He quipped. "O'Neill's fine, sir, General, if you want to be formal. I've never gotten used to the 'Supreme Allied Commander' thing I got saddled with."

Althin looked confused. "But you are the Supreme Commander, are you not?"

O'Neill nodded firmly. "I figure nobody else was dumb enough to take the job."

Shaking his head at the mass of contradictions the Tau'ri continually presented, Althin got right down to business. "Supre...General. We of the Curia have watched, and ignored that affairs of the Galaxy for many, many years. We are descendants of Earth and yet we consider ourselves more advanced and above the petty struggles of the younger races. I'm sure you're aware that this is an affliction not just restricted to us."

O'Neill gave a grim nod and Althin continued. "The System Lord attack upon our world shook our society to its core and for the first time in a thousand years, we found ourselves angry. Angry at what had been done to us, angry at what we had allowed to be done to us and to other races. I'm ashamed to say that if it weren't for the attack, we probably wouldn't have made this realization. Regardless, we of the Curia have made our decision."

The entire Defense Net Command Centre fell silent and Althin became visibly formal. "Supreme Commander O'Neill, I have been empowered by the Curia of New Tollana and by the Council of Elders of the Adenan Unity to request full membership of state within the Earth Alliance."

Chapter 5
The Aftermath...

February 23rd 2010
Leicester, East Midlands, United Kingdom

The wind tore at the hair and clothing of the small entourage of people as they surveyed the devastated landscape before them. Prime Minister Elizabeth Grant bit her lip with despair as she noted the few remaining buildings that were little more than shattered foundations dotting the landscape. Small fires continued to smolder against the few scraps of flammable material that remained from the firestorm that had now passed.

They were at the outskirts of what used to be the city of Leicester, a medium sized place of around forty to fifty thousand people. Many of those were now dead. England had been allotted fifteen canopy shields with Mk IX naquada generators to power them. Understandably, Grant had assigned them to the largest cities, up and down the country but that still left far, far too many places without adequate protection. They had done their best to move as many people as possible under a canopy shield but their range was limited to around twenty kilometres and barely six percent of the population had managed to get under cover.

As Hek'at's Motherships had entered the atmosphere, heading for the Stargate centres in Colorado and Southeastern Russia, his vessels had indiscriminately fired upon the unshielded population in Europe and Asia. The 'War Hammer' had continued the bombardment before the Fleet had been able to force Bast to retreat.

The damage had been immense and the death toll was horrific. The latest count was nearly thirty million confirmed dead and millions still missing.

"How many survivors have we found?" She asked quietly, her voice hardly reaching above the wind.

Major Kent, commander of the regional Emergency Task Force shook his head slightly. "None from the inner city. It was only after two miles out that we began to get survivors. Badly hurt, severe burns..." He trailed off as her face became even paler than it had been before. "We're still finding survivors within the city limits, even as we speak."

Christ, Grant thought, it was so bad he couldn't even answer the question.

The Home Secretary Tony Brown glanced at his datapad before he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am, its time for us to go, we can't do anything else here."

"What else am I supposed to do, Tony?"

"Lead, Ma'am." The short Minister replied bluntly. "The people are frightened. They need reassurance its over."

"I'm frightened." Elizabeth responded harshly. "Who reassures me?"

Tony sighed. "The Fleet, I suppose. General O'Neill, if you want someone to talk to."

Nodding despondently, she gestured towards the devastated landscape. "I was supposed to protect them. They asked me to watch out for them, to ensure they could live and laugh and love without anyone or anything hurting them."

"I doubt anyone holds you responsible for what's happened." Tony rebuked gently.

"I hold myself responsible!" She practically shouted. The half dozen Security Service personnel turned slightly at the outburst but just as quickly turned away, to resume scanning their sectors.

The lead agent of the Service personnel moved next to the Foreign Minister while he held a hand to his ear, obviously listening to a message coming in over his earpiece radio. "Ma'am, I'd like to get you back to the 'Street', this place isn't secure."

Grant bit back an angry reply and turned furiously back to the scorched landscape. Medical and relief transports could be seen flying in and out of the disaster area. After a minute had passed, she had managed to calm herself before she turned around to reply.

"Very well, Charlie, let's go." She replied quietly.

Subdued, the small group headed towards the waiting transports, whose engines were beginning to spool up, the whine growing louder as the pilot made ready to lift off.

As they walked up the ramp of the brand new, sparse but comfortable, governmental transport built with the same technology that built the Pegasus bombers and Sabre fighters, Grant paused at the base of the ramp to look back one last time at the devastation wrought casually by the passing of the invading Motherships.

"Damn them to hell."

Bast's Fortress, Sohag

Bast stood the viewport in her personal quarters and stared out at a sea of stars. The tranquil scene was at odds with her inner turbulence. Hek'at sat on a plush sofa, watching his lover intently. Ever since the remnants of the invasion fleet had returned to Sohag, she had been silent and withdrawn. She had given no orders, had made no comments as her Jaffa commanders had been debriefed over the disaster that had occurred in Tau'ri space. He was incredibly worried. It was unlike Bast to be so...beaten.

Oh, he knew what she was thinking. The self-flagellation and the way the brain locked itself into circles as you went over the events that had led to your failure and you wondered what you could have done different. Yes, he was very familiar with the results of being beaten by those 'slaves', the Tau'ri.

"Lord Kel'phat reported that the repairs to the 'War Hammer' were finished today." He commented quietly.

There was no response from Bast.

Frowning, Hek'at leaned forward slowly. "Our patrols have picked up no sign of pursuit. We hurt them too much for them to consider attacking us."

"Yet."

At first, Hek'at wasn't sure she had spoken the word for the voice was nigh on unrecognizable but she turned around and continued in that same dark, hoarse tone.

"Yes, we hurt them but they savaged us. We...I...walked right into their trap." She finished bitterly.

Hek'at winced and shook his head. "I don't believe it was a trap exactly...we couldn't have known they had recruited more allies. We had left to attack Earth before we could get word of the Tau'ri fleet destroying our task force in Adenan space. We couldn't have known they had enlisted another world. And the Tollan, we assumed they would continue their isolation as they have done for centuries."

Bast, her face dark with foreboding, moved over to her ornately decorated desk and pressed a button. A hologram floated in the space at the center of the room, showing the disposition of all known ships and fleets across their section of the galaxy. "We now have no strategic reserve. I fail to see how the Tau'ri and their allies can not know this, therefore, I need you to go out to our ship production centers and 'encourage' them to work faster. We need more ships, First Prime." She finished, her voice just as harsh as when it had started.

Hek'at stared at his Queen and lover. She had never resorted to traditional methods of intimidation before, in fact, she had always been downright pleasant to work for compared to practically any other System Lord. But this...her defeat, the pressure she was under, seemed to have begun to make her revert to type, as it were.

He couldn't help but feel this was a mistake. Her Jaffa and those of the other System Lords practically adored her, not because she was a God in their eyes but because she cared for them like no other System Lord had, even their own. Threats and intimidation now would only serve to break their already fractured confidence in the Union.

"Perhaps if I simply contacted them and explained..." He started.

"NO!" Bast roared, the first sign of real emotion he had seen from her in over a day. "They need no explanations! I am their God and they will obey my wishes!" She spitted him with a stare. "As will you!"

Hek'at, unsure of her words, stepped back a pace. Her eyes and posture seemed to falter as he put space between them but they hardened just as quickly, overriding the regret he thought he saw in her face. "Leave me and tend to my orders and to your Jaffa, First Prime." She ordered.

Almost stunned by her emotional turnabout, he bowed deeply and exited without another word.

Bast watched him leave and continued to stare at the door after he had gone, a single, small tear trickling down her cheek.

Stargate Command (West)
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, United States

O'Neill rubbed his eyes tiredly. The reports streamed in constantly, from all around the world. The American and Russian regular forces had been gutted in their constant and almost fanatic attacks upon the invading Jaffa.

The B-52 and F/A-18 squadrons that had attacked the Motherships had been all but annihilated and the remnants of 25th Armoured and 8th Mech Division combined amounted to less than an intact brigade. General Stuart had remorselessly committed wave after wave of troops in an effort to smash the enemy before he could secure his beachheads and attack the two Stargate facilities. The counterattack led by the experimental M1A4 Abrams of the 1st Armoured Regiment had saved the day at Cheyenne Mountain, the advanced armour and weaponry of the tanks proving to be a match for the Jaffa Scorpions.

The Russian forces were in no better shape with the 285th and 191st Motor Rifle Divisions literally ceasing to exist as a fighting force. It had only been the arrival of the Chinese 12th Air Assault Division that had charged north across the Amur River and engaged the weakened Jaffa forces, saving Khabavrosk and SCG-East from destruction.

Their successes had come at a high price but with the stunning and completely unexpected intervention of the Tollan and Adenan fleets, they had achieved a magnificent victory with over eighty percent of the Bast's invasion force destroyed and the remainder heavily damaged. The prize, however, had been the capture of the five Motherships that attacked the SGC facilities. Intelligence and R&D were already fighting over the rich pickings there.

A subdued knock on his office door caused him to look up. "Come." He called out.

The door opened up and Brigadier General Samantha Carter stepped through. Her hair was damp and she wore fresh BDU's and the aroma of shower soap drifted through the room. "Afternoon, General." Despite her fresh appearance, her countenance was grim and her eyes dark.

"Sam!" O'Neill replied in surprise. "When did you get back?"

Although she had been promoted and given command of Spearhead, she had returned to help the Scientific Support Division get the 1st Armoured Regiment ready for a fight. The tanks were still highly experimental and there hadn't been a project out of the SSD for the past fifteen years that she hadn't had a hand in. After the attacks had been beaten off, she had gone out with the rescue and relief crews to help the local populace.

"We returned about an hour ago. Boulder's a mess. The Emergency Relief teams are trying their best but the Jaffa blew the hell out of the place once that Motherships crashed into the canopy shields and the orbital bombardment from the 'War Hammer' took them out. The only bright side is that a fair number of the civilians there evacuated the city since it was so close to an obvious primary target."

O'Neill nodded despairingly. In the closing stages of the space battle, the 'War Hammer' and its orbital bombardment of Cheyenne Mountain had pounded the already weakened shield heavily. After the shield had fallen, Boulder had taken several direct hits from the weapons fire from the Commandship and the city was an almost total loss.

"What have you been doing?" Sam asked quietly.

O'Neill hesitated for a second, but only a second before he passed her his datapad. Curiously, she activated it and scrolled through its immediate contents.

"Holy cow, sir!" She exclaimed quietly. "Are you sure about this?"

O'Neill lifted himself out of his chair and stepped over to the counter top and shelves that lined that side of his office. On it were books, files and pictures. O'Neill picked up a small, simple wooden frame that held a picture of SG-1, relaxing on some world. He and Teal'c both had fishing rods, Sam had her laptop open and Danny...Danny was scratching in the dirt...again. They had all paused from their pursuits for a moment as Jonas Quinn had taken the photo.

"I'm sure, Sam."

Sam let out a puff of air as she considered the contents on the datapad once more. "When are you going to put this forward?"

O'Neill studied the photo a moment longer and then put it back on the shelf, turning round to face his old friend. "Tomorrow." He replied. "At the Fleet Debrief."

February 24th 2010
Fleet Debrief, The Vault, SGC-West

The military commanders and their staffs filled the Vault, almost to capacity. O'Neill scanned the sea of faces, both alien and human, all sitting and working together in a way that the Galaxy had not seen for a long time and 'that' alliance had only consisted of four races. With the Tollan and Adenans petitioning to join the Alliance, the number of races now fighting with Earth against the Goa'uld now rose to nineteen. Admittedly, only five...sorry, now seven, of these races were powerful enough to make meaningful materiel contributions to the Alliance but the other smaller worlds were still highly valued members and they continued to make massive strides in improving their own situations. Many of these civilizations had been barely eking out an existence, the System Lords purposely keeping them ground down, making them easier to control. Now, with the help of Earth and the others of the Alliance, they were carefully being exposed to modern technologies.

The hard-core anthropologists and sociologists on Earth were going nuts trying to enact General Directive 3, the Alliance version of the 'Prime Directive', but O'Neill had never liked the non-interference policy as a rule that should be set in stone and other like him among the Alliance had found ways to work around the Directive in more than a few cases and begun to help other worlds rather than watching them from orbit without having to get their hands dirty.

Regardless, the military strength of the Alliance had just increased by a huge factor and with a little luck, they might just be able to make headway in this war sooner than anyone had a right to expect.

O'Neill moved to the front of the table, next to Admiral Patterson and sat down, placing his data pad in front of him. They had all spent the morning going over their after action reports from the battle two days ago and for the most part, the reports were positive and his people, though hit hard from all the casualties they had endured had learned a lot and it had showed from the conversations of the past five hours. They had broken for lunch and now O'Neill was ready to put forward a proposal, something that was going to knock everyone's socks off. The other military chiefs saw this and broke off their conversations, each moving to their own places at the table. O'Neill waited for a minute while everyone settled down before he smiled thinly.

"People, Bast stuck her neck out, hoping for a knockout blow but now, she's tripped up and it's her head on the chopping block."

A few grins appeared on the Earth military personnel but the majority of the alien soldiers and sailors appeared slightly confused. O'Neill broke out into a full grin as he saw that confusion and shook his head. "What I mean by that is that Bast tried to take Earth out of the picture but thanks to the Tollan and Adenan fleet, we've destroyed a large portion of Bast's fleet. This has left her vulnerable in ways I don't think she suspects."

Admiral J'Thuk, the hulking Sintesian bear-like figure, huffed in amusement, his large nostrils flaring. "I like to think I know you pretty well now, Jack. Now I ask myself, do I really want to know what it is you're thinking?"

A round of chuckles greeted the Sintesian's comment but O'Neill merely grinned. The Tollan CO, Commander Kestan, frowned slightly. "I'm afraid I cannot think like a Tau'ri, despite our biological similarities. Perhaps you could explain what it is you have in mind?"

O'Neill nodded. "I have the inklings of a plan, Commander, one that takes advantage of Bast's sudden weaknesses."

"You intend to liberate Gryphon!" Admiral Serena breathed out in sudden understanding.

The dawning realization of O'Neill's plan became apparent on the rest of military conglomerate.

The Gryphon military liaison, General Yakizo, who had sat in a self-imposed exclusion at one side of the room, found his veneer of gloom disappearing under the bursting light of hope as Serena's words penetrated his consciousness. Professional though the young General was, his orders from his Queen had left him in a personal quandary. He was safe and protected on Earth while his friends and family fought and died in defense of Gryphon. At first, Yakizo had been the epitome of professionalism but as the weeks wore on, the reports of the fighting had ground him down as steadily as if he'd been fighting on the plains himself. The final blow had been when all communications with Gryphon had been lost. Since then, the unknown had haunted his every moment of existence and O'Neill had watched the younger man grow haggard with despair.

Now, he watched the life return to his eyes and Yakizo stepped forward with the face of man presented with a life preserver as he floats in an infinite ocean.

"That's right." O'Neill confirmed with a twinkle in his eye. "It's time we went back and helped the soldiers of Gryphon finish kicking the Jaffa off of their world once and for all."

Yakizo leaned heavily against his chair as he felt his knees become weak. He was going home!

Admiral Marakesh chuckled to himself, drawing the attention of the room. He smiled under the questioning stares and pointed at Yakizo. "Knowing what I know of the people of Gryphon, I doubt very much they will have left much for us to do there at all."

The room exploded with laughter and Yakizo smiled gratefully at the other Admiral as he rejoined the table, several other commanders and captains slapping him on the back in support as he did so. He was among friends and he railed against himself about how he had forgotten that.

"I think we can take this one step further..." Admiral Serena announced suddenly.

O'Neill raised an eyebrow at her as the room fell silent and she shrugged. "If we can maintain the momentum, perhaps we can go a little further than Gryphon..." She added.

Admiral Marakesh grimaced impatiently. "Dammit, woman, just tell us what that twisted mind of yours is thinking about!"

She smiled once as the room strained to hear her response. "Sohag." She replied.

Someone at the back of the room swore softly and was instantly hushed by someone near to him. The Admirals round the table looked at each other until all eyes fell on the Admiral of the Fleet.

Admiral Patterson sighed deeply as he considered production schedules, fleet strengths and a whole host of other factors, especially political ones. O'Neill had approached him this morning with the intent of liberating Gryphon and with the new fleet elements from the Tollan and Adenan forces, he was confident of a successful mission. Admiral Serena's suggestion was several magnitudes above what O'Neill had initially proposed.

Glancing at the Supreme Allied Commander, Admiral Patterson shrugged. "It's a sound idea. I doubt we'll have an opportunity like this for another ten years but it will depend on one thing."

"What's that?" O'Neill asked quietly.

"That we scrape up as much firepower as we can in the next four months. It will require a hundred and ten percent commitment from every member of the Alliance and the willingness to risk everything we have achieved to date in order to cut twenty years off the war."

"It sounds reckless." Commander Kestan commented.

O'Neill grinned. "Quite possibly, Commander, but reckless got the people of Earth to where we are today."

Surprisingly, Kestan smiled is response. "Perhaps. It is the opinion of the older races that you are too reckless..." The commander raised his hand to forestall the muttered comments that had begun from around the Vault. "...However, it is also our opinion that we are not 'reckless' enough. Perhaps together we can find a balance that will spell doom for the System Lords, once and for all."

A chorus of agreements and cheers echoed round the Vault, slightly surprising but pleasing the Tollan and Adenan contingents.

O'Neill nodded at the unity he was seeing being forged her and for the first time in ages, he felt complete certainty that they were going to win.

Epilogue

13:00 ZULU
March 1st 2010
United Earth World Council Headquarters, Greenwich, England

Chairman of the UE World Council, Russian Premier Iliana Kutsov, watched steadily as the last handful of Council members filtered in through the main doors and silently moved to their seats. While many were incredibly busy, dealing with severe damage dealt to their various countries by the Goa'uld invasion force, none would have missed this meeting for anything in the world.

Turning her head, she met the steady gaze of General O'Neill, the Supreme Allied Commander of all military forces on thirty-one worlds. The weathered features, dark eyes and lean figure, with his silvering hair and salt and pepper beard, gave him a presence that somehow filled the Chamber. Over a hundred heads of states were assembled in front of him, some of them born to power and of lineages that stretched back a thousand years and yet all of them seemed to fade into the background as O'Neill stepped onto the empty floor at the center of the Council Chamber.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming." O'Neill began. "I know you've all been working tirelessly in the past few days, repairing the damage that has been done to our world but I come before you with a request."

O'Neill's eyes scanned the assembled Prime Ministers and Premiers, Presidents and Chancellors, Kings and Queens. They all returned his gaze with vary expressions, some looked tired, some looked nervous, a few even looked at him with disgust, the handful of people that still blamed him for unleashing all this upon Earth and its people.

So be it, O'Neill thought, knowing that he had done far more good for his people than he ever had to harm them.

"A request that could considerably shorten the course of this war." He continued steadily. "Since day one, Earth has managed to survive the attentions of the System Lords thanks to their inability to set aside their differences and, of course, a lot of luck. The Alliance military has expended a lot of effort to keep the internecine warfare between the System Lords at a high level while we quietly build up of forces."

"The appearance of Bast ten years ago forced us to become somewhat more direct in our approach as she began to forge a Union out of the System Lords. This might have signaled the death of our civilization if it wasn't for Lord Yu and his Separatist movement that acted as a perfect counterpoint to Bast's Union, returning the galactic situation to a stable, if dangerous, equilibrium."

O'Neill's features darkened. "Now, with the events of the past month, you truly know how dangerous Bast is for, even though her Union fights against the Separatists, she still recognized us as a threat and marshaled enough forces to try and eliminate us."

"Less than two weeks ago, she almost succeeded." The somber silence that met this flat statement was telling in and of itself. To the people of Earth, the war had been a far off thing of distant battles and vague horrors. Now it had been brought to their doorstep and it was proving to be a cathartic experience to all.

O'Neill suddenly grinned slightly. "Thanks to the Tollan and the Adenans, we utterly defeated her invasion force albeit at high cost to both sides."

"This victory, however, has led to an opportunity that I and my military commanders feel that we must take of advantage of while the opportunity exists."

Steeling himself internally, O'Neill sank the hook. "Ladies and gentlemen, I come before you to ask you permission to begin preparations for what we have called 'Operation Guillotine'."

The lights in the Chamber dimmed and the massive wall screen behind the General flickered to life. A galactic map appeared and zoomed in on a section of space at the heart of Union Territory. The icon for Sohag began to blink.

"Council members, Bast had to scrap, borrow and steal enough ships to attack us in the manner that she did. She is fighting a war on two fronts and it is costing her heavily in terms of manpower and ships. Since the destruction of the majority of her invasion fleet, which represented almost all her reserve forces, she is hurting for offensive assets. Alliance and Tok'ra Intelligence believes that it will take her anywhere from six month to a year to replenish her fleet losses. Our losses were similar on a per ratio basis but our ships are less complex and have far less build times. With a little luck and hard work, we should be back to pre-fight levels within two to four months."

O'Neill paused, expecting a comment from the audience but the assembled heads of state were quiet and showed no signs of wanting to speak. Even President Kinsey sat in his chair, studying the wall screen display thoughtfully. O'Neill shrugged mentally and carried on.

"What 'Guillotine' would entail is a handful of escalating, diversionary strikes against Bast's outlying but strategically important worlds, culminating with a direct assault upon Gryphon. Once we have liberated that world, I intend to take full advantage of the momentum we will have built by that point, and make a lightning strike against her capital, Sohag, with the intention of capturing or at the very least eliminating Bast."

The council members began to stir at that, some speaking in harsh whispers to each other. The Swedish Prime Minister frowned deeply. "You're beginning to exceed your authority again, General. What you propose is a considerable escalation and yet you stand there as if you are informing us of your intent rather than asking permission. Non of us have forgotten how you circumvented standard procedure and dispatched a large portion of Third Fleet to an incredibly risky proposition in Adenan space."

O'Neill knew he hadn't made many friends among the political and ambassadorial apparatus with that maneuver; Shiv was okay with it but even he had taken heat just for being O'Neill's friend. O'Neill opened his mouth to reply but the other man cut him off. "Yes, I know it turned out great in the end but it could have just as easily swung the other way. I'm sure my esteemed colleagues have their own thoughts on the matter?" He said, opening the floor for more support.

Predictably, President Kinsey was the first to signal for attention. After Chairwoman Kutsov signaled for him to speak, Kinsey surprised everyone by begin almost respectful towards O'Neill and not his usual abrasive self.

"General, do you have enough firepower to consider such a large-scale fleet operation?"

O'Neill nodded, unsure as to why Kinsey was ignoring the opportunity to bait him but willing to go along with it, as his aide, Colonel Krupskaya brought up an Alliance Fleet Order of Battle up on the wall screen, showing the breakdown of ships types that were expected to be available at the beginning of the operation. "Yes, Mr. President, with the addition of the Tollan and Adenan fleets, and the completion of the hulls currently under construction among the forge worlds of the Alliance, we believe we have an excellent chance of defeating her central ships and taking Bast out."

"And in doing so, forcing her Union to collapse and allowing us to take them apart one at a time." Kinsey concluded, showing he fully understood the implications of 'Operation Guillotine'.

O'Neill smiled in slight surprise, their eyes meeting and for the first time, the two old enemies were in complete agreement. "Exactly, Mr. President. Exactly."

* * * * * * * * * *

Sohag

Hek'at and a handful of Seconds stood in front of the Chappa'ai and gripped his fists in frustration. The 'thunk' of each chevron as it dialed was like a knife stabbing into his mind. Behind him, several Legions waited patiently, ready to pass through the Chappa'ai to Gryphon. Hek'at was going to depart Sohag for a while, and tend to the ground war on Gryphon before touring the construction facilities around the Union. Maybe he could soften Bast's orders without her ever knowing.

"Our God Bast is troubled, Hek'at, no more." One of the Seconds, Ok'ran, a close friend of Hek'at, said softly. "Give her time and she will regret her hasty words."

Hek'at spitted him with harsh stare that quickly melted into a rueful smile. "If we could harness the power by which word travels among the Legions, we would have a weapon like no other, Ok'ran."

"Surely." Ok'ran replied with quiet humor. "Hek'at, she will come around and remember her love for you. You have won the heart of a God, my friend, and that is not something to be easily broken."

The First Prime sighed deeply as the Chappa'ai engaged and he became bathed in blue light. "I fear this situation may not be so easily overcome."

Ok'ran stiffened to attention. "We are Jaffa. We go were we are told and we overcome in the name of our Lords. Our Gods are powerful, Hek'at, but what would a God be without their worshippers?"

Hek'at studied his old friend anew. He had known that they way Bast had treated her Jaffa with respect had caused their worldview to expand but the First Prime had never heard talk like this from the rank and file among the Jaffa. "What are you saying, Ok'ran?"

Ok'ran relaxed slightly and smiled. "I'm saying, old friend, that Bast needs you. She cannot succeed in her mission without you for you have brought us here just as much as she has. Give her time to realize this and soon she will be wanting you by her side once more."

"And how many of us feel this way?" Hek'at asked quietly, wondering how far the 'elevation' in think had spread among the Jaffa.

"Enough." Ok'ran replied. "Enough."

Hek'at was silent a moment, pondering this new information, before shaking himself free of that line of thought. Time for that later. "Enough of this. Come, my friends. The war on Gryphon awaits!"

Hek'at bounced a fist off his friends armour and then strode purposefully up the steps and walked straight into the shimmering pool of light.

Deep Space, Goa'uld Union Territory
Mothership 'God's Will'

"From what my people tell me, the Tau'ri defeated your 'Union' quite soundly." Lord Yu announced, his voice carrying only a trace of smugness.

Lord Kiptakanae gripped the arm rests of his throne in anger and frustration. "The Tau'ri filth were lucky. We had them in our grasp and the damned Tollan showed their faces and turned the tide against us."

"Ahh, the price of Bast's adventurism." Yu chided softly. "You see now that all Bast's Union has done is forced the lesser races to unite against us. Before they had been quite content to ignore one another for the most part, concerned only with their own problems. Bast has given them common cause. Had she acted like a true System Lord, and treated them as the lesser beings that they are and ignored them, they would have fallen one by one before our might."

Kiptakanae said nothing, fuming silently at the mocking tone of Yu's voice.

Yu, for his part, wiped the smile off his face and narrowed his eyes at the dissatisfied Unionist. "Are you ready, now, to make that first step?"

Kiptakanae stared off to the side, his mind spinning furiously.

"Are you ready to remove the Abomination before she brings the entire Galaxy down upon us?" Yu hammered home his point, reminding the other System Lord of the rumors that Bast had taken a Jaffa, her First Prime as a lover, against all the codes and mores of Goa'uld civilisation.

Silently but firmly, Kiptakane nodded in affirmation. "When I return to Sohag, I will gather those who see her for what she truly is, and soon after that, she will die the death of the Shol'va!" He spat out, his anger at everything that had come to pass fueling his hatred of Bast. That hate overwhelmed his initial misgivings and he felt a surge of glorious power as he thought about killing Bast and bringing the Union down once and for all.

THE END

THE STORY CONCLUDES WITH, FOUNDATIONS OF SAND, THE FINAL PART OF THE SPEARHEAD SAGA.