Chapter 21
Detachment 3, Air Force Flight Test Centre, Nevada Test and Training Range, NV
October 11, 2010
Colonel Harry Maybourne, a member of the NID and commander of the notorious Area 51, undid the collar of his uniform, propped his feet onto his finely furnished hardwood desk, and leaned back in his chair. On his desk was a bottle of rare single malt whiskey and brandy snifter. Leaning forward a bit Maybourne uncorked the bottle and poured a stream of the amber liquor into the brandy snifter. Setting the bottle down he dropped an ice cube into the glass and swished the whisky around to release its full boutique.
Bringing the edge of the brandy snifter to his nose, he appreciated the whiskey’s aroma and glanced at the clock on his desk. As the second hand ticked away, Maybourne raised the glass into the air and saluted sardonically:
“To you O’Neill.”
The second hand struck the hour and Maybourne’s office plunged into darkness. Sipping at his beverage Harry waited the thirty seconds for the base’s backup power to engage. It did so efficiently as the naquadah generators restored DET 3 to full power.
Maybourne was in the process of savouring the last of the whiskey in the sniffer when there was a knock on his office door. Harry tilted his head to see around his boots just as his second, Major Albert Reynolds, entered the office.
Maybourne raised the glass at Reynolds who stood politely at attention and swallowed the last of the amber liquid. Setting the glass beside the bottle, Maybourne placed the cork back into its place and removed his feet from his desk.
“Time to get back to work?” Harry asked indolently.
“Yes Sir,” Reynolds replied.
“Well then,” Maybourne heaved his body from his chair and stood, restoring the collar of his uniform, “break time is over.”
Reynolds nodded politely and stepped aside to let his commander precede him into the hallway.
“Tell me Reynolds,” Maybourne questioned rhetorically, “why’d I agree to this?”
“Because Mrs O’Neill is a very persuasive woman,” Reynolds offered.
Harry gave a bark of laughter. “Persuasive yes and O’Neill can be one scary son of a bitch.” The colonel held up a hand to forestall anything Reynolds would say in reply. “Why does that man always have to be right? Ah well, we’ll be all well to learn from this—never trust bureaucrats, especially an entire bloody planet of them.”
“Yes Sir,” Reynolds agreed wholeheartedly.
“The squads?” Harry questioned as they turned a corner.
“Ready for deployment Sir,” Reynolds replied, “just awaiting your order.”
Maybourne gave a satisfactory nod of his head. After reaching the command centre, he gave the order and watched as two squadrons of his retrofitted F-301s rose into the atmosphere with satellite zones and a few media satellites strapped to the undersides of their wings instead of missiles.
The F-301s had been outfitted with purely Earth or Goa’uld technology, which is why they were still operational. The ground zones that Maybourne had ordered into place around the entire perimeter of the Nevada base and training grounds the past few weeks had knocked out all Aschen tech in the vicinity. Isolating the region, and Area 51 in particular, from the rest of the world.
“Notify Bravo,” Maybourne nodded to Reynolds after the last F-301 disappeared into the blue of the sky. “Area 51 is theirs.”
. . .
Jack stood in the centre of Iðavöllr massive holographic command station as he observed the first volley onto the planet below.
The attack had been signalled by the beam out of the Aschen stargate into one of Iðavöllr’s holds. The Kvillar program had done its job of stopping Aschen Prime from dialling out for aid but the resistance was taking no chances that the Aschen would be able to crack the program.
Aschen Firespeeders rose from the planet below to meet the collection of Goa’uld udajeets, Asgärd vígamaðrs, and other planet’s fighters deployed from the bulk of the resistance’s fleet. The ships of the fleet that were not present had been deployed to deal with the designated red planets of the Confederation and if felt necessary, to aid the homegrown resistances on the yellow planets.
Taking a moment to look from the fighters before they engaged each other Jack looked around the room, checking to make sure that while his liaisons with planetary and fleet commanders were all looking serious, none were looking concerned as they communicated directly with those commanders. Reassured that Sally, liaison with Sam on Earth, was supporting a half smile even as she was focused on the computer screen she sat before, had Jack turned his attention back to the fighters.
All of the pilots selected for the assault on Aschen Prime were experienced spaceflight veterans that knew how to follow orders. The reason they had been selected. The goal was not to devastate the Aschen but to remove their influence from the rest of the galaxy. To do that, all that had to be done was remove the advantage their advanced technology gave them and then put the planet into quarantine.
With Sam’s invention of the dead zones, it was remarkably simple to do in theory, but complicated in implementation.
The pilots of the vígamaðrs engaged the Firespeeders in direct combat as much as possible, letting the udajeets and other fighters get past the first few layers of atmosphere to deploy the ground zones they were carrying. Even as the first of the ground zones began parachuting to the ground the ships that had carried the resistance fighters—a conglomeration of a few hat’aks, mostly alkeshes, and a few other race’s spaceships—began deploying the satellite zones in the space around Aschen Prime creating a satellite minefield.
Watching the flashing icons on the holographic screen and once most of the zones had been deployed Jack gave a curt nod of his head. Immediately the satellite zones activated and Firespeeders began drifting aimlessly in space as their crafts died.
“Begin beaming the Firespeeder pilots planet side,” Jack ordered.
Firespeeders drifting in space began to light up from within as the installed Scotties on resistance ships began transferring the Aschen pilots back to the surface of their planet. The drifting fighters they let be for a bit as they would be collected while installing the quarantine force field shield around the planet and once collected would be divided as spoils among the resistance groups.
The quarantine shield—that was sort of like the Star Wars planetary shields in Jack’s mind, only it kept things in, not out—was another Nox device and like the shield that protected Sam on Earth had been loaned by the pacifists because of the relatively non-violent intentions of the resistance. Of course, getting those shields had been more shocking to him then being naturalised by the Asgärd.
As Iðavöllr engaged its telescopes to display scenes on the surface of Aschen Prime, Jack was relieved that none of the Aschen cruisers had been deployed quickly enough. Deployment of the Aschen cruisers before the full complement of dead zones had been activated had been identified as the area for potentially the biggest loss of Aschen life. Large scale deaths were something that Jack did not want because deaths caused resentment and anger and that could lead to more problems for future generations if that anger festered—take the confederate planets of the resistance for example.
He made a mental note when deploying Janet’s group to include some of Charlie’s people onto the planet. If the Aschen government permitted it, after Phase II was complete the resistance would supply medics to treat the injured Aschen considering their miracle medicine machines would no longer work with the activation of ground and satellite zones.
Moving his eyes from the vista of Aschen Prime and surrounding fleet again, Jack began systematically checking in with his liaisons and getting progress reports about how Phase II was progressing on their respective planets.
Hearing from Sally that Phase II was almost complete on Earth and that Area 51 had deployed the extra Colson’s media satellites needed for the Veritas broadcast, Jack knew it was nearly time to make an intergalactic phone call.