XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 8/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Dec 2001 08:53:34 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Chapter 8
After nearly a week of bed rest and puttering around the officers =
quarters
tormenting the station's computer, Jack finally felt ready to make his =
first
excursion down to the hanger bay. That is, he decided he must be ready =
to
confront the awful reality of the other ship. It wasn't that the =
nightmares
had stopped, or that he didn't check on Pierson several times a day-- =
albeit
as covertly as he could manage. It was the simple fact that time was =
passing
all too quickly and he couldn't afford to put it off any longer.
As near as he could estimate they'd been gone eighteen days on a mission
that had been scheduled for three or four, even a week at most, and by =
now
the SGC would certainly know there was trouble. What kind of trouble =
wasn't
important. Their disappearance alone would be enough to stall the talks =
with
the Ishri. But the folks back home would be worried, especially since =
they
didn't have another jump ship and the chances of a rescue were dismally
apparent as slim to none.
He'd understood that from the get go, Jack mused as the elevator doors
opened and he stepped inside. That had been one of the reasons he'd =
wanted
Pierson along as opposed to Teal'c. Pierson didn't have a kid and wasn't
chock full of current knowledge about the Goa'uld. And, he was virtually
indestructible as he'd so ably proven during...
With a silent sigh O'Neill pressed the glyph which would take him down =
to
the hanger. He really didn't want to do this, he thought nervously. What
he'd really like was to see someone in Psychiatric Services, dump the =
whole
mess into their head and move on. And if he were back home that's just =
what
the Air Force would require that he do -- no if, ands, or buts -- before
they re-certified him for active duty. Well, you don't have that option,
Jack thought pragmatically as the doors opened. And it ain't like this =
is
the first time. So just suck it up and move on.
He stepped out into the cavernous bay that could probably have dry =
docked a
thousand ships and still had room for more.
"Just a little way station," he murmured, shaking his head in wonder as =
he
looked around. More like a staging area for launching a war, he thought,
impressed with Tok'ra's foresight. God, he liked Pierson's dad -- even =
if he
was a hugger! And especially since Tok'ra had made the station easily
accessible to all his forces, some of whom were as technologically
challenged as Earth currently was. None of that super high tech gadgetry
that stymied him every time he looked sideways at the stuff.
O'Neill set his jaw as he looked for a blood trail, quickly surmising =
that
the self-cleaning process Pierson had mentioned seemed to have done its
work.
Good, he thought as a sense of relief washed over him. Out of sight was =
out
of mind in his book. If the past wasn't staring him in the face, he =
could
just get on with the job and ignore the rest of the hangar bay.
Now, let's get to it, he thought, settling himself into a more =
professional
demeanor for the work ahead. He headed left -- the direction Pierson had
told him to look -- and found the two jump ships sitting catty corner =
near
what looked liked a diagnostic station. "Bingo!" he grinned, taking a =
slow
turn around the ships, nodding or shaking his head occasionally as he =
looked
them over.
There was quite a bit of scoring damage from energy weapons along their
hulls, but that made sense given what Pierson had discovered in the
station's log. According to the commanding officer in charge of the
listening post at the time of Tok'ra's last battle, at least a hundred =
ships
had come to this location seeking to escape what they had believed was
Goa'uld treachery. The frantic, sometimes near hysterical recording, =
showed
a station in chaos. Tok'ra was dead, along with every Ancient in the =
fleet.
Even Inanna, or so it was believed. Yet, while major Goa'uld strongholds =
lay
in ruins, Tok'ra's forces were fleeing to their home worlds, terrified =
that
they and their loved ones would be next on the snake-heads' list.
At least, O'Neill thought with a great deal of respect as he took the =
tech's
seat at the terminal, the commander had had the good sense to keep the
panicked troops from raiding the station's stores before bugging out.
Apparently, she and her small staff had waited another month, no doubt
hoping for new orders, or some indication that the alliance still =
survived,
before finally abandoning their posts and heading home in the last =
transport
they had.
These two ships, he contemplated thoughtfully, tapping the panel top to
bring up the monitors, hadn't even been considered for use. Now why was
that? he wondered as he keyed in the code Pierson had designed which =
would
allow him to work the computers in Ishri.
"Damn it!" Jack muttered a long time later after he'd read through the
original technician's hurried notes.
While both ships had intact DHDs and internal Stargates, jump ship A's =
main
engine was shot to hell and needed a complete refit along with repairs =
to a
dozen onboard systems. That would take several months, maybe even a =
year,
given the amount of work involved.
Jump ship B was in somewhat better condition. Thrusters and stabilizers =
were
in need of heavy repair, communications were busted and several internal
mechanisms controlling the fuel distribution and environmental functions
needed to be replaced. Eight, maybe ten weeks to make sure everything
worked.
Not as good as he'd hoped for, but better than nothing, O'Neill decided =
with
a tired sigh as he shut down the terminal and went to inform one very
annoying Immortal.
***
The bad news didn't seem to faze Methos at all.
"Pity we can't just use one of the gates to get home," he sighed and =
O'Neill
nodded, commiserating.
The jump ships worked on the same basic principle as traditional =
Stargates,
but with different results. Originally designed to launch from a =
stationary
base, the ships created their own wormhole, but required an exit gate =
the
same as any other. They had been meant for guerrilla runs using the
space-based combat gates as an exit point. They were not designed for
pulling dangerous, flashy maneuvers in confined or limited areas =
immediately
upon egress. And without thruster controls or stabilizers, the ships =
would
be just so much junk hurtling through the wormhole at phenomenal speeds =
to
crash and burn on the far side. Which meant they couldn't even consider =
the
option Methos had mentioned -- not and both hope to survive.
"So, how's it coming in here?" O'Neill finally asked, looking around the
operations center. After pulling up as much of the station's =
specifications
as he could locate, along with the command logs, Methos had done an
excellent job of learning the systems and making them his own. "Any sign =
of
Quinta?"
The ancient Immortal grinned. "I was hoping you'd ask. This is an =
amazing
set up, Jack," he gestured toward the computer bank where he was seated.
"Tok'ra may have designed the station to the lowest common denominator, =
but
the listening devices he planted are incredibly sophisticated. I can =
hear
voice traffic from all over the sector and focus on a single =
conversation
anywhere, as needed, instantaneously. No wonder he was able to strike so
quickly. The Goa'uld had no secrets from him."
"Quickly?" Jack asked. "Just how quickly are we talking?"
"Well," Methos shrugged. "From what I know, from the time Tok'ra and =
Morgot
became blended it only took about a hundred years to launch the final
battle. And most of that was spent building the necessary war materials =
and
bringing all the allies up to speed. That's a fantastic accomplishment =
if
you think about it."
"Damn straight," O'Neill nodded. "So, you can hear Quinta?"
"Not her," Methos explained. "But her forces. The relays out there," he
waved at the screen, "unscramble all transmissions, search for key words =
--
which I've reprogrammed," he grinned smugly, "to suit our needs -- then =
send
everything back in priority order to the central listening post here. =
The
amount of detail is incredible, especially at these distances."
"Interesting," O'Neill murmured thoughtfully, imagining the benefits =
such a
system could provide his own world. "Can it send messages?" he asked
suddenly.
Methos stared at him for a long moment. "That's a brilliant idea!" he
exclaimed as he fell back against his seat. "I hadn't even considered =
the
possibility. There had to be a way of relaying the information retrieved
here to Tok'ra's main receiver," he added with excitement as he turned =
back
to the computer, hurriedly tapping the panel in front of him. "I'll have =
to
reroute the defaults, of course, then locate the nearest transmitter to
Earth. Then I need to figure out how to get a signal to one of our
satellites and from there bounce it to the SGC on one of their =
frequencies,
but I think," he looked over his shoulder and grinned. "I think we can =
do
it."
"Well, get on it," Jack ordered, smiling at Methos' enthusiasm as he =
stood.
"You do realize, of course," Methos called softly, making Jack pause as =
he
entered the elevator to return to his own task with renewed vigor. "They
still won't be able to help us."
"Maybe not," O'Neill agreed. "But they'll know we're alive, where we are =
and
what the Ishri are really up to. And that," he reminded Methos, "was the
whole point of this little excursion."