Title: The Good Commander
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: Fractures
Summary: John Crichton has become the warrior circumstances demanded him to be.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching taped episodes of her favorite shows :(

"Orbital defenses are failing, General Tranguard!"

Chaos in the control room faded to nothing as the heaviness of the words sank in. Orbital defenses failing... they were the best protection Earth had against the space onslaught; after that, they had only fighters to stave off the attack, and they'd seen the ineffectiveness of their fighter planes against the space crafts long before. Once the orbital defenses were gone, Earth was doomed.

The ground shuddered and rocked as yet another pulse blast got through the antimissile defenses... they were never designed to fight off those kind of hits. They had only been made decades ago with protection against Earth-capable weapons in mind; they never planned on fighting off these kind of interstellar foes.

General Tranguard struggled to the main console, grabbing its edges with a white-knuckled grip as he barked, "Show me the feed from the number two orbital platform."

The technician frowned, face pale, "Orbital platform two is gone, General."

"Then get me another one! Just show me what's going on up there."

The technician moved his hands over his controls, and over the grid pattern of information came a live video feed of the battle being waged overhead.

The peaceful black of space was marred by metal and energy. Clunky Earth orbital defense platforms spinning in orbit, targeting systems taking aim and firing upon the sleek, black ships darting among them, trying to avoid the fire and return it. For a while, the score had been pretty well matched, but the Earth forces were losing ground... the black and red vessels were designed for tight combat, and their superiority was becoming evident.

Still the attackers were nameless and faceless. The humans had never seen their foe, only heard the language once upon first contact. They had been sent a tight-beam long-range message that contained a foreign language that none of the linguists could make sense of. Soon after, attack forces had arrived. Earth had been in a battle to keep their home ever since.

The black fighters volleyed and cut precision aerial turns that no Earth forces could match, and even the most optimistic could see that humans were forestalling an unavoidable outcome. Humankind was doomed... they were fighting with their last breath.

"Sir... the wormhole..." the technician's tired voice wafted up to the General's ears, broken and resigned.

That damned wormhole. The first hint of it came eight years ago when IASA astronaut John Crichton accidentally opened it up in a test flight. They had thought it was an isolated incident, and any further duplication of the maneuver was banned until more research was done to insure no more people would lose their lives. The spatial phenomenon had been quiet for years, but seven months ago the wormhole reappeared, and the black forces started coming through. Those forces were bent on destroying Earth's defenses... what would happen afterward was anyone's fatalistic guess.

In any instance, Earth and humanity were on the brink of defeat and quite possibly extinction.

The general closed his eyes, not even wanting to see what the blue passageway would expel next. Another wave of fighters, more reinforcements to beat down the human effort of resistance that Earth could not fend off.

General Tranguard opened his eyes and leaned over the control console to the orbital recorder always positioned to pick up video of the location of the wormhole.

The liquid blue funnel shuddered and rolled in space, waiting to spit forth its deadly cargo.

The wormhole swelled and paused, and from the aperture exploded another ship.

General Tranguard felt his stomach harden and heart grow cold. This was like no ship they had ever seen before... possibly the final wave of attack to bring Earth to its knees. It was moments from that fate already.

The ship that had emerged from the wormhole looked like a weapon itself. It was black and red, like the small fighters flitting around taking out orbital defenses. It was huge, larger than any attack vessel the Earth defenses had seen yet. The ship made the general think of a large dagger with its center structure pointed like a tooth and the stern carrying a spade shaped tail-like design. On either side of the main body were flanking sinister 'wings' looking no less like claws or teeth, sweeping back to meet the spade tail section and complete a dark and streamline deadliness.

The moment it emerged from the wormhole, it stopped and hovered in space, as though regrouping... gathering energy for an attack on Earth. It looked as though it deserved the sensation of a harbinger of death that it invoked in all those in the command station who laid eyes upon it.

The small fighters stopped their attack, and for a brief second that felt like hours no one in space moved. A stale-mate raged, and then action exploded just outside the Earth's atmosphere.

The black fighters grouped together with remarkable speed and skill, turning to face the new menace to humanity.

General Tranguard thought of his children, his new grandbaby... and prayed it was quick for them.

The dagger ship easily and smoothly rolled into position facing the others who were making a break for the wormhole. A desperate attempt, but for what?

The dagger ship suddenly let loose its power, as awesome and frightening as all those in command shuddered to suspect it might be.

Enormous firepower issued forth from the ship, streaking with mindless speed toward its targets... the black fighters.

General Tranguard gripped the console again, heart racing. The newcomer ship was destroying the black fighters, not Earth! What could it mean?

Within seconds, the massive black and red ship destroyed every last black fighter that had been so recently beating the last of Earth's defenses to enfeebled slag. Within a scant ten seconds the only foreign object left in space was the dagger ship, silently baring its metaphorical teeth in space with its mere presence. It was the barer of death for them all...

"Uhh... uh... General..." the technician stammered.

General Tranguard closed his open mouth, looking over slowly at the technician, mind still reeling and clamoring to assimilate what had just happened.

The technician swallowed, "We're... being hailed."

The General blinked in shock. Who... how?

The General nodded toward the large room's main screen, indicating it should be routed there if they were lucky enough to get a visual communique this time, and tried to stand tall and strong to face this ship's crew... either their saviors or the warrantors of their ultimate demise.

The screen with tactical data on it stuttered and blinked out.

No one was prepared for what they saw when the image was replaced... a human standing on the bridge of some kind of ship, presumably the death chariot hovering poised above their planet. The ship was as red and black on the inside as the outside, just as ominous and menacing to the eye. The human being in the center was almost the equal of his ship. His midsection was out of range for the visual feed, but his shoulders and chest were garbed in a dark black jacket, almost a uniform of some kind. His face was weary and hardened, a soldier; General Tranguard would recognize a fellow one any day. His sky blue eyes were piercing and steely, short-cropped brown hair beginning to show salty gray at the temples. The man's face may have been soft and childlike once, but a deep scar on his left cheek marred the innocent of his face.

Everyone was dumbstruck, staring at the human on the screen, and they all jumped when the man spoke, "We are not your enemy. Stand down your orbital defenses or we will be forced to take them out to protect ourselves."

Of course. The orbital defense platforms had targeted the new enemy in the absence of the black fighters.

The General blinked and spoke haltingly, "You... speak English. Who are you?"

The man's eyes grew harder, "Your weapons are charging; stand down or we will fire. We're not here to attack you, but we cannot allow our ship to be harmed."

The General nodded feebly, turning to the technician at the orbital platform controls. It was pointless to fear betrayal now... taking the defenses off-line would not mean their ultimate demise because the platforms were useless to save them, anyway. Better to take a chance than lose them in certainty, and the general had a hunch this man was to be trusted... or maybe it was just a desperate last hope.

"Stand down the orbital platforms."

The technician nodded, working at his controls. General Tranguard looked back at the screen at the human man.

The unknown man looked to the side, probably checking to see that the defenses were indeed breaking target lock. He nodded imperceptibly in approval when they did.

General Tranguard stepped forward, "I am General Victor Tranguard of the United States Armed Forces. Who are you?"

The man met the general's gaze directly as he answered, "I'm Commander John Crichton."