Chapter 7

  “Ahhh, we’re all going to die!” screamed the little Asgardians. All over Hala, tiny grey men could be seen running around looking for cover. The Replicators were in the city. Ships were taking off in every direction. Any ship infected by Replicators were being shot down to prevent the Replicators from leaving the planet and infecting other Asgard worlds.

  On the bridge of Skidbladnir, Amos’s mind had interfaced with the ship’s computer. “I feel so alive in here, like I could do anything,” echoed Amos’s voice from the ship’s intercom. Unconscious inside of an Asgard stasis pod, Amos’s mind quickly acclimated to the ship’s systems. His subconscious mind had control over sensors, life support, navigation, and of course the ship’s on board matter converters. “Finished!” said Amos, a triumphant proclamation rolled off the edge of his tongue.

  As soon as he had spoken the ship’s matter converter printed a large oval shaped device covered with wires, cables, and other advanced technology. The stasis pod holding Amos’s unconscious body opened up and his weary eyes opened soon after. “Boy, that felt odd,” murmured Amos, the strangeness of the experience still lingering.

  Freyr and Amos walked over to the new device laying on the table. “What is it?” asked Freyr. Amos picked up the odd shaped object and placed his hand in its open center.

  “It’s an antireplicator weapon. The fundamentals of this new technology is simple: it separates the bonds holding replicator cells together rendering each individual replicator cell inert,” he explained. Freyr was moved by how much Amos had changed. Not only did his intelligence increase, but his overall character and demeanor had changed as well. Now, instead of Amos asking all the questions, it was Freyr.

  “How can a device this small, wipe out an entire planet full of Replicators?” Freyr asked. Amos shook his head, urgency creeping back into his voice.

  “It can’t, Freyr. That’s why you need to make something bigger. Use the ship’s disruptors for a larger pulse wave. It must be calibrated to match the frequency of this device exactly. If you misfire—inattention could lead to a catastrophic failure,” he warned, an edge of tension threading through his words.

  Without hesitation, Freyr darted to the ship’s control interface, fingers flying across the console as he focused on crafting a weapon capable of saving their world from annihilation. The clock was ticking, and the fate of Hala hung in the balance.

  On Hala, chaos enveloped the air as the battle against the relentless Replicators intensified. The stern voice of Science Officer Kvasir resounded through the city’s intercom, urging the inhabitants, “This is Science Officer Kvasir. Proceed immediately to the designated evacuation sites. Military personnel are advised against engaging the Replicators; energy weapons are ineffective.” All around, Replicators, like shadows merged with steel, descended upon the terrain, their numbers multiplying at an alarming pace.

  Suddenly, a shimmering hyperspace window ruptured the fabric of space above the beleaguered planet. “Greetings, this is Commander Freyr. We are here to offer our assistance,” Freyr announced, his hand resting confidently on the Asgard communication terminal. Kvasir’s acute senses detected Freyr’s message, and he promptly replied, “Commander Freyr, your arrival is timely. The city is besieged by Replicators, and we have suffered heavy casualties among our ranks. My transporters will soon be compromised, making evacuation impossible.”

  Beside Freyr, the impetuous Amos busied himself with an ancient weapon, inspecting its wires and toggles, familiarizing himself with its storied legacy. “Freyr, send me over. I’m ready to assist Kvasir,” Amos declared, his voice unwavering, infused with determination. Freyr turned to regard Amos, who stood firm, exuding an air of self-assuredness. “Are you certain, Amos Fyree? Should I dispatch you to Kvasir’s location, there may be no means to retrieve you.”

  Amos raised his hand, gripping the anti-Replicator weapon like a seasoned hunter poised before a daunting chase. With deliberate precision, he conducted a final assessment of the gun, every detail seeping into his consciousness. “I’ll manage. Just send me down to the planet while you prepare the larger disrupter,” he replied, an undeniable fire glimmering in his eyes.

  On Hala, the situation with the Replicators had escalated into chaos. These insidious machines were voraciously consuming the city's infrastructure, repurposing it into more of their kind. Within minutes, their ranks had doubled, swelling with relentless intention. A sudden brilliance pulsed in the air, a pulse of light that flared and faded like a distant star.

  “Hello, Kvasir, my name is Amos Fyree, I’m here to fix your Replicator problem,” Amos appeared in front of Kvasir after teleporting to his location. Kvasir’s eyes widened with astonishment, “I thought Freyr would teleport me out, not beam a human in.” Amos chuckled, looked Kvasir in the eyes holding his new weapon and said, “Don’t worry, I got this, I made this new device, it should destroy the machines.”

  Suddenly, the center of the door where Kvasir and Amos were located began to dissolve and giant machines that looked like spiders began to crawl inside of the room.

  “Holy shit,” screamed Amos, “What are those?” Amos’s look of confidence quickly turned to one of absolute dred.

  “Those are the Replicators, Amos Fyree,” said Kvasir, “they have breached our bunker.”

  The spiders moved closer to Amos and Kvasir’s position. The sound of the arachnids moving along the walls of the bunker sent chills down Amos’s spine.

  “They’re fucking spiders! No one said anything about fucking spiders!” Amos screamed. “On Atlantis the Replicators were human, I thought these Replicators would be human too! If I knew they were bugs I would have stayed onboard the ship! Oh my god, I should have paid closer attention to those SGC mission reports before I got myself involved in this! I hate fucking spiders!” he moaned.

  Unexpectedly, a swarm of Replicators began making their way towards Amos’s direction, almost as if they could sense the technology in his hand. Amos took the device and pointed it at the incoming swarm. “I guess now’s the best time for me to overcome my fear of spiders,” Amos muttered under his breath, heart racing.

  Amos unleashed a rapid volley of fire upon the encroaching Replicators. “Take that! And that! And that!” he shouted, exhilaration mingling with desperation as the monsters fell to his onslaught. But then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a sneaky Replicator skirting around him and crawling perilously close to Kvasir.

  “Kvasir, duck!” Amos shouted, adrenaline surging through him. He swung the disrupter and fired just as the Replicator was inches away from Kvasir’s face, reducing it to dust. “You saved my life. Thank you,” Kvasir said, his voice laced with relief. “You’re welcome,” Amos replied, his focus uncompromising.

  Once the immediate vicinity was cleared, Amos turned to Kvasir. “Now that we’ve made the area safe, do you have a means to contact Freyr aboard his ship?”

  In the vastness of space, Freyr focused intently on enhancing his ship’s disrupters, calibrating them to unleash a broader anti-replicator pulse. The silence of the void was abruptly pierced by the crackling voice of Amos resonating through the ship's speakers. “Amos to Freyr, Freyr, please respond.”

  “Heil, Amos Fyree,” Freyr replied, activating the communication system with a sense of urgency. “Were you successful?” His tone shifted subtly, laced with concern as he awaited news from his comrade.

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  “Yes, Freyr, we’re intact. The weapon is operational. I managed to establish a perimeter around Kvasir’s bunker. How's the progress on your end?” Amos inquired urgently.

  As the last syllable faded, a series of beeps echoed through Freyr’s vessel, indicating the completion of his weapon upgrade. “The ship’s weapon is now ready. I’m heading to your location,” he announced, navigating the Skidbladnir down toward the planet's surface, skillfully weaving through the debris of derelict Asgard vessels, remnants ensnared by the relentless grasp of the Replicators.

  Suddenly, a colossal Biliskiner class vessel loomed dangerously close between the Skidbladnir and Hala. “That ship is under Replicator control,” Freyr thought grimly. Without warning, energy blasts erupted from the enemy vessel, the harsh sound of Asgard weaponry reverberating against the shields of his ship.

  “This is Commander Freyr. This vessel is free of Replicators. I urge you to cease your attack!” Freyr’s voice cut through the chaos via the ship's communication array, but the assault continued unabated. In response, Freyr took careful aim with his own cannons, releasing a barrage that forced the hostile vessel to halt its onslaught.

  On the ground, Amos and Kvasir listened intently, aware of the ominous approach of more Replicators. In the distance, the chilling echoes of Asgard screams wove through the air. “Hello, this is Freyr,” his voice rang out, a lifeline reaching into Kvasir’s bunker.

  Kvasir flicked on his subspace communicator. “Freyr, are you almost here?”

  Freyr steadied himself against the intercom, pressing a stone against a button to respond. “There’s been a complication. I was ambushed by a Replicator-controlled vessel, and my ship's weaponry sustained damage in the conflict. I did manage to destroy the Replicators aboard their ship, but now I cannot fire the disruptor over the city,” he explained, the weight of the situation heavy in his voice.

  Amos moved swiftly to the control panel, activating the communicator once more. “Freyr, does this planet have a planetary shield emitter?”

  “Why yes, it does,” came Freyr’s affirmative reply, a flicker of hope igniting amidst the turmoil.

  Amos’s voice cut through the tension in the room. “If you upload the weapon schematics onto a crystal, I can recalibrate the planet’s shield emitter to unleash a planetary-wide disruption wave.” After he spoke, a brilliant white beam of light manifest beside Amos and Kvasir, revealing an Asgard control crystal resting on the cold ground. Amos quickly snatched it up, tucking it securely into his pocket.

  Kvasir was already at work, manipulating runes on his Asgard computer terminal with swift precision. “Amos Fyree, the shield emitter is not far from our location,” he announced, a holographic map of the city flickering to life before them. The glowing lines and points illuminated as he pointed to a specific area. “If you exit this building and travel three blocks down to this spot on the map, you’ll find the emitter.”

  Concerned, Amos glanced back. “Are you going to be alright here alone?”

  Kvasir merely shrugged, his focus unwavering. “What other choice do we have? The fate of Hala hangs in the balance,” he replied, his thoughts clearly focused more on the colony's survival than on his own well-being.

  Reluctant to leave Kvasir unprotected, Amos hesitated, then reached out again to Freyr. “Freyr, I need you to synthesize another anti-replicator gun and send it to Kvasir.”

  In an instant, another gun materialized in Kvasir’s grip. He looked up, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “Better?” Amos asked, gauging the efficacy of their preparations.

  “Much better,” Kvasir affirmed, a steely determination settling on his face.

  “Alright then, Kvasir, let’s not waste any time,” Amos urged, determination blazing in his eyes as he stepped forward, resolute in their mission to reach the emitter.

  Together, they sprinted towards the door where the Replicators had burrowed through earlier, navigating the corridors of the building and passing the fallen Asgard that lay in their wake. With urgency fueling their strides, they burst out of the building and set their sights on the shield emitter, dispatching any Replicators foolish enough to stand in their way.

  As they moved, a chilling sight caught their attention: a group of Asgard survivors, surrounded by relentless Replicators. Some of the survivors wielded makeshift weapons—sticks and metal pipes—in a desperate attempt to fend off the advancing machines. “We can’t leave them,” Amos exclaimed, halting for a moment. “The emitter is just ahead, but we have to help. We can’t let those monsters get to them.”

  Charging forward, the pair made their way to the beleaguered group. As they drew near, the Replicators redirected their focus onto Amos and Kvasir, sensing the advanced technology they carried. “Fire!” Amos commanded, his voice defiant amidst the chaos. They unleashed a barrage from their anti-Replicator weapons, systematically dismantling the encroaching threat. One down. Two down. Thirteen down. Fifteen down. The relentless onslaught of Replicators crumbled to dust in their wake.

  Finally, they reached the beleaguered Asgard, who were making a last stand against the machines. “Heil fraendi! Are you all well?” Kvasir called out, concern etching his features. “Heil og Sael, Lord Kvasir! We owe our survival to you and your companion,” one of the survivors replied with gratitude.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Amos spotted a solitary Replicator poised on a nearby ledge, ready to pounce. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired, the shot ringing out as the Replicator fell mid-leap. “Bokk, human. Thank you for saving us,” the survivors expressed with relief. “Ekki mal,” Amos replied, a smile tugging at his lips. “No problem.”

  A flicker of realization crossed his mind: he had spoken in Asgardian. What other wonders might he be able to achieve with the knowledge of the Ancients coursing through him and the benefits of his Asgard-designed nanite upgrades? He glanced over at Kvasir, who was still gripping his new weapon anxiously.

  “Kvasir, keep an eye on them. I’ll go ahead to update the shield emitter,” Amos instructed. Kvasir nodded in agreement, steadfastly prepared to guard their newfound allies while Amos pressed onward to complete their crucial mission.

  Amos sprinted through the narrow alleyways of the dazzling futuristic city of Hala. While it didn’t boast the immense size of Othalla, it shimmered with a similar splendid allure. As he navigated the labyrinth of gleaming structures, he found his destination: the imposing building that housed the planetary shield emitter. The Asgard shields had become nearly obsolete in the ongoing battle against the relentless Replicators. Even with the shields raised, blocks of Replicators descended upon the planet, rendering this particular structure one of the least fortified in Hala.

  Reaching the vast, grey trapezoidal edifice, Amos's heart raced at the sight unfolding before him. A long stream of Replicators was emerging from the building, not entering it—a sight that filled him with uncertainty. “I can’t tell if that’s a promising sign or a dire one,” he mused, his mind racing with possibilities. “I just hope the shield emitter is still functional.” With a determined kick, he flung open the heavy front door and plunged into the depths of the crumbling structure, the air thick with an unsettling tension, as shadows loomed in the twinkling light.

  Amos made it to the building’s center lying just before the console controlling the shield emitter was located, he saw something so ugly, and so disgusting, that the mere sight of it shook his very soul. In the center of the room was no ordinary Replicator, but an abomination – a Replicator Queen. Purple in color, and nearly 20 ft in length, the large venomous queen could be seen sucking power out of building’s power systems.

  Amos could see the purple back of the Queen pulsating as the demonic being churned out baby Replicators. Coming from her sack were hundreds, if not thousands of little Replicators of various types. Since the shield emitter required an enormous amount of energy, a large generator was placed inside of the building to power the planetary shield. Amos quickly figured that this was not just any Replicator Queen, but most likely ground zero for the entire invasion.

  From here the entire city was being infected with Replicators. Amos hardened himself and ran towards the mechanical beast. “I’d rather be back in the South Side of Chicago,” bitched Amos. Without delay, Amos lifted his weapon and fired. No effect. It appeared as if a shield covered the mechanical nightmare. Instantaneously, the giant spider noticed Amos’s weapon and shifted its attention towards him. Every replicator in the surrounding area paused and began to reverse direction back into the building towards Amos’s location. Amos began rapidly firing the device at the encroaching horde of machines. The weapon still worked. For some reason the disrupter that Amos had invented worked on the smaller insects but not the Queen.

  Amos remembered reading in his Stargate history orientation that human form replicators could adapt to disrupter technology if given enough time. Did they adapt? No, it had to be something more profound; the disrupter was functional, but there was a palpable barrier somehow safeguarding the Queen from harm. Resolute, Amos lifted his weapon once more, gripping it like a shotgun. Focusing every ounce of mental prowess he could muster, he aimed at the monstrous fiend before him. He fired again, and this time the outcome was strikingly different. Instead of a mere energy wave, a colossal concussive blast erupted from the device, obliterating the Replicator Queen and her minions within the room.

  Amos felt mentally drained after the attack almost as if the energy weapon was amplified by his mind. “This device must have been meant to be used by Lanteans,” Amos wondered. He had heard of people receiving powers when they looked into the repository of the Ancients. A surge of fatigue washed over Amos, as though the very essence of his mind had amplified the weapon's destructive power. “This device must have been intended for the Ancients,” he pondered aloud. Tales of those who had dared to gaze into the repository of the Ancients resurfaced in his thoughts—General O'Neill’s remarkable healing touch, Dr. Jackson’s ability to conjure energy shields, call lightning from the heavens, and manipulate physical objects with his mind. Even Dr. McKay had encountered similar technology in Atlantis, acquiring telekinesis, telepathy, and the extraordinary ability to wield electronic devices with mere thought.

  “Technopathy,” thought Amos, “I must be gaining the ability to control and manipulate electrical devices with my mind.” Amos suppressed these thoughts and continued on to the control terminal. He opened the tray holding the control crystal and replaced the crystal with the one Freyr had given him.

  In the cold, silent expanse of space, the Skidbladnir drifted precariously, its hull battered and torn, venting precious atmosphere into the void. Suddenly, from the abyss, two derelict Asgard motherships emerged, ominously turning their gaze toward the beleaguered science vessel. With shields barely functioning and no weapons at his disposal, Freyr felt a chill of dread wash over him, each moment thick with the weight of impending doom.

  Then, out of the blue, a shimmering wave of energy surged upward from the planet’s surface, cascading over both his ship and the looming Asgard crafts. "The other ships... they’re powering down their weapons!" Freyr exclaimed, a flicker of hope igniting within him. In that tense moment, his control console erupted with beeping alerts, a signal crackling to life.

  "Freyr, this is Amos Fyree," came the static-laden voice over the comm, a hint of triumph in his tone.

  "Mission accomplished. The Replicators have been destroyed."

  “Daegiligur! said Freyr. Your victory couldn’t have come too late.”