Lucia:

  The battle for Lucia lasted just five hours. The army left behind by General Jegazia was little more than a ragtag force; an assortment of a few veteran officers and NCOs leading grandfathers and boys, forced to defend their city and its surrounds. Hallam’s army swept through them like chaff in a wheat field. When it was over, the surviving members of the Lucian general staff were dragged before Hallam, with Ares standing ominously in the background.

  Forced to kneel, the defeated officers remained defiant. Not a single one acknowledged Hallam’s authority.

  “You should reconsider,” Hallam warned, pacing before them. His voice carried the weight of inevitability. “Lucia needs leadership. The strong survive; the weak are crushed. You can be part of the new order… or an example of what happens to those who resist.”

  A grizzled officer, bloodied but unbowed, lifted his head. “You are not our leader.”

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the kneeling figures. Hallam’s expression darkened, but it was Ares who spoke next, his voice smooth and venomous.

  “They are unworthy.” The Goa’uld stepped forward, his golden eyes gleaming. “Dispose of them.”

  Hallam sneered. “Gladly.”

  Thirty-five men and women were summarily executed, their bodies left hanging in the city square; a grotesque warning to any who would dare challenge Hallam’s rule.

  While he had kept his end of the bargain with Cate and the Tau’ri, there was no way she would have wanted to be remotely connected to his brutality. The political consequences could be dire. If word spread that Earth had supplied Hallam with resources; armoured vehicles, rations, medical aid; it could cast a dark shadow over their relations with other worlds. The only saving grace was that Earth had drawn the line at providing infantry weapons, but even that distinction might not matter in the eyes of potential allies.

  Hallam retired to his newly claimed quarters in the ‘Leader’s Palace,’ reclining with an air of self-satisfaction. He had taken Lucia. The first step in his grand vision was complete. He poured himself a glass of dark liquor, swirling it idly as he mused over his next move.

  Rebuilding Lucia’s strength would take time, but he had plans; grand, glorious plans. And eventually, they all led to one place.

  Earth.

  But for that, he would wait. Ares, however, was not as patient.

  “This victory is a testament to my wisdom,” the Goa’uld declared, stepping into the chamber uninvited. “Without my guidance, your armies would have stumbled in the dark.”

  Hallam gave him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. “You mean the armies I trained, the soldiers I led, the battle I won?” He took a slow sip of his drink. “Don’t rewrite history, Ares.”

  The Goa’uld’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. “I merely speak the truth. It was my strategic insight that ensured our success.”

  Hallam scoffed. “Strategic insight? Is that what you call it? If I recall correctly, you were ready to withdraw early when we thought the fight was turning in our favour and didn’t.”

  Ares’ expression darkened, his golden eyes flaring. “Watch your tongue, mortal.”

  “Or what?” Hallam leaned forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You forget, Ares; I saved your life. If it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in a Lucian cell.” He let the words hang between them before leaning back with a smirk. “Or did you think I’d forgotten that?”

  Ares clenched his jaw, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, his robes billowing behind him. Hallam chuckled to himself, downing the rest of his drink.

  Let the Goa’uld fume. This was his war now.

  The Alpha Site:

  Meanwhile, at the Alpha Site, the situation remained tense. Inside the main ground control room, the air was thick with urgency. Elle was there, representing the Invincible, while Kovacs stood in for the Chekov. The Aurora was still two hours away, its arrival eagerly anticipated.

  At the centre of the discussion stood Jack O’Neill, his arms crossed as he surveyed the gathered officers. Colonel Bixby, Cate, Dusty, and SG-1 were all present, alongside commanders of the ground forces. The countdown to the Lucian fleet’s arrival had reached twenty hours.

  “We’ll have three ships,” Bixby stated bluntly, tapping on the holographic display. “Three ships against twelve plus their escorts.”

  Dusty whistled low. “We’re gonna need one hell of a rabbit to pull out of our hats.”

  “Or several,” Kovacs muttered.

  Elle exhaled sharply. “Between our ships’ air wings and the Alpha Site’s, we’re fielding about two hundred and twelve aircraft. That’s including the F-16s and Hawks as defensive fighters. It’s a decent force, but let’s be real; we’re outnumbered.”

  Daniel Jackson frowned. “What about the ground forces?”

  “The Cavaleiros have committed fifteen thousand infantry,” Cate replied. “We’ve placed artillery, tanks, and light-armoured cavalry units in three key areas where we expect the ground assault.”

  Teal’c nodded. “The Lucian Alliance has undoubtedly studied our tactics. They will seek to exploit any weaknesses from our last encounter.”

  “That’s what we need to figure out,” Jack interjected. “Because we need to hold them off for six hours before reinforcements arrive. I called Landry, he has promised the Hammond and eight of those new-fangled frigates, but they won’t be here for twenty six hours.”

  Elle looked up suddenly, the realisation dawning on her. “So, in essence, we have to hold the line for at least six hours, General?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence settled over the room.

  “So,” Cate said finally, her voice steady, “… we either find a weakness in their attack plan… or we make one.”

  Jack nodded grimly. “Exactly.”

  The countdown continued. The battle was coming.

  And the Tau’ri had twenty hours left to get ready.

  Alpha Site Canteen – 10:30 hours

  The canteen was buzzing with the dull, tired hum of activity; boots clunking against the worn tiles, utensils clattering, low voices muttering through meals, and the occasional hiss from the hotplate as fresh trays slid into the warmer. The smells were familiar: powdered mash, gravy that might've once met a cow, and today’s mystery dessert that looked suspiciously like day-old banana pudding.

  Cate entered with a worn ease, still in her off-duty greens, sleeves rolled just past her elbows. Her hair was pulled back loosely, and she looked more like a weathered field captain than a senior officer. She grabbed a tray and joined the slow-moving line.

  There were two people ahead of her. The first was quick; meatloaf, mash, done. The second… not so much.

  A woman in civvies, clearly a non-combatant, stood squinting at the menu board, arms crossed in deep deliberation. The airman behind the counter waited patiently as she sighed.

  “Do you have any vegetarian options?” she asked.

  The airman blinked. “Uh… we’ve got baked beans. And toast.”

  The woman tilted her head. “Is the toast buttered with margarine or… ?”

  Cate leaned slightly to the side. “Ma’am, this is the Alpha Site, not a bistro in Greenwich Village.”

  The woman turned, startled. Cate raised an eyebrow and offered a not-quite-smile.

  “I’ll take the beans,” the woman said hastily, stepping aside.

  Cate got her fish and chips, a generous helping of Greek salad, and a coffee that looked like it might remove rust; courtesy of a machine that had outlasted three commanding officers and possibly a Goa’uld occupation. She scanned the room.

  There, at the far end, sat Colonel Mori Kashegawa, alone. His plate looked untouched, his fork doing slow laps through mashed potatoes like it was digging a trench. His shoulders were hunched, brows furrowed like he was still deep in some mental briefing. Cate had seen that look before. Too many times.

  She approached his table, balancing her tray.

  “You mind if I join you?” she asked gently.

  Mori didn’t look up, just gave a vague wave with two fingers. “Be my guest.”

  She sat, took a sip of her coffee, then began cutting into her fish. For a moment, neither spoke. Just the quiet murmur of the room, the background noise of a base waiting for war.

  Cate noticed his plate. Still untouched.

  “You planning to eat that or are you hoping it'll surrender first?” she said, nudging a small smile into her voice.

  Mori gave a half-chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not hungry.”

  Cate looked at him sideways. “That bad?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say, if this were poker, I’d have folded with a pair of kings and been told to clean the table.”

  She set her fork down and leaned back, watching him. “Talk to me, Mori.”

  He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

  Cate didn’t move. Just waited, letting the silence stretch, not pressing, not judging. Eventually, he exhaled.

  “I spent weeks with the Cavaleiros and the SGC planning the defence of this place. I ran drills with the mortar crews, helped place every damn piece of artillery by hand. I identified the three key locations the Alliance would hit; me, not some desk-bound general. And now? Three of them show up and suddenly I’m background noise. ‘Thanks for your service, Colonel, we’ll take it from here.’” He paused. “I just… I feel like I got benched right before the championship game.”

  Cate nodded slowly, letting the words hang in the air before responding. Then, softly: “You think Patton wouldn’t have felt the same if they’d sidelined him for three PR-friendly generals in tailored dress blues?”

  Mori snorted.

  Cate leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. “Mori, I don’t care what fruit salad they’ve got on their chests. They don’t know this planet. They don’t know the Cavaleiros. They haven’t been in the mud with our people, dodging goddamn plasma fire while shouting orders over the wind. You’ve been here, done the work. They won’t lift a finger without your input.”

  She smiled, just slightly.

  “Hell, even if we could bring Patton back from the dead, he’d probably ask you for a map.”

  That got a real chuckle from Mori, low and gravelly.

  Cate picked up her fork again. “They may have the stars, but you have the plan. And I guarantee you; when the first shots are fired, they’re going to turn to you and ask, ‘What now?’”

  She paused, looking him square in the eye. “They need you. We need you.”

  Mori looked down at his plate, then back at her. For a second, his expression softened, some of the weight seemed to lift.

  “You always know what to say,” he muttered.

  “Only when the food’s bad,” Cate replied, stabbing a chip. “Now eat. You’re going to need your strength when the generals come crawling back asking how to keep their boots dry in the swamp.”

  The overhead fluorescents buzzed faintly. The canteen’s scuffed linoleum, once a sterile grey, had given up in patches; worn spots near the serving line and doorways had been ground down to reveal bare concrete beneath. A few attempts at covering them with tape had failed. Much like everything else at the Alpha Site, the charm wasn’t in the polish, it was in the fact that the place worked, held together with grit, duct tape, and sheer stubbornness.

  Cate had just popped a chip into her mouth when Mori, still nursing his fork, shifted in his seat.

  “How about you?” he asked quietly. “How are you holding up?”

  Cate raised an eyebrow, mid-chew.

  Mori continued. “I heard what Jack said. About how you broke every rule in the book yesterday.”

  Cate smirked, swallowing. “Pretty sure I just rearranged the book a little.”

  Mori leaned back, watching her. “Well, I overheard him telling Mitchell it took a hell of a lot of guts; and conviction. That coming from O’Neill... that’s not nothing.”

  Cate glanced down at her tray, lips quirking into a crooked smile. “Yeah, well. Guts and conviction make lousy armour plating.”

  He snorted again, shaking his head, he liked the straight shooting Aussie. She had grit and a determination that pushed the barriers. All of them.

  Before either could add more, the door to the canteen opened with a soft hiss, and a Royal Navy Leading Seaman; a signals rating, judging by the shoulder tabs, walked in. His boots clicked crisply against the exposed concrete near the doorway, then muffled slightly as he hit the linoleum patchwork.

  “Ma’am. Sir,” he said, giving them both a respectful nod. “Apologies for the interruption. You’re both wanted in the command centre.”

  Cate sat up straighter, already moving to collect her tray. “Something up?”

  “Aurora’s ahead of schedule. They’ll be dropping out of hyperspace within the hour. ETA eleven hundred.”

  Mori raised an eyebrow. “I thought they weren’t due until twelve.”

  The sailor gave a tight smile. “Colonel Radovic says she was ‘making good time.’ I think that’s Air Force-speak for pedal to the floor.”

  Cate raised an eyebrow. “Lily Radovic?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The same”

  They both stood, Cate gave Mori a sidelong glance. “Guess it’s showtime.”

  She grabbed her tray. “Well, looks like the quiet part of our morning just ran out.”

  Mori stood beside her, already reaching for his beret.

  As they stepped toward the waste disposal chute, Cate muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Mori to hear, “So much for fish and chips.”

  He chuckled. “At least you got to eat.”

  Alpha Site – Command and Information Centre (CIC), 10:45 hours

  The CIC was a hive of muted efficiency. Screens flickered with planetary scans, telemetry feeds, and updated defence overlays. Radios crackled softly in the background as technicians manned their consoles, and the massive holotable in the centre displayed the sector surrounding Vegema in crisp, glowing blue.

  Colonel Cameron Mitchell stood near the edge of it, arms crossed, jaw tight. His gaze was fixed on a fast-moving blip… Aurora; charging through the last leg of hyperspace toward orbit.

  From behind him came a voice.

  “Ooooh, someone’s brooding.”

  Vala Mal Doran breezed into view like a cat who’d found a sunbeam, her smile impish and knowing. “That little wrinkle between your eyebrows is doing all the talking.”

  Cam didn’t look at her. “I’m not brooding.”

  “Right,” Vala said sweetly. “You’re just standing here glowering at a blip on the screen like it owes you money.”

  Before Cam could formulate a retort, Sam Carter appeared from the far end of the room, tapping something into a tablet as she walked.

  “He’s not brooding,” Sam said without looking up. “He’s bracing.”

  Vala’s eyebrows rose. “Bracing for what, exactly?”

  Now Sam looked up, eyes twinkling. “Colonel Radovic.”

  Vala blinked. “Oh! The Aurora’s captain. You know her?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Sam said with a nod. “Used to be a major on Prometheus, back during the Anubis incident in Antarctica.”

  Vala turned back to Cam, gaze sharpening. “Wait… that Radovic?”

  Cam’s sigh was all the confirmation she needed.

  Vala leaned in like she was hearing juicy court gossip. “You and she...?”

  “We dated,” Cam muttered, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

  “For how long?”

  “Few months.”

  “What happened?”

  Sam answered before he could. “She broke three ribs sparring with a Jaffa and still showed up to flight drills the next morning. Cam said she made him feel like he was dating a T-800.”

  “Later she was XO on the Odyssey for a while. She also insisted on flying the ship during a geomagnetic storm for fun,” Cam added. “I liked her, but I couldn't tame her.”

  Vala’s eyes glittered. “I love her already.”

  Before Cam could say anything else, the doors hissed open behind them and Cate steeped in with Mori at her side, both of them fresh from their interrupted breakfast. Cate’s gaze swept the room as she approached, all business now.

  “ETA?” she asked, voice clipped.

  “Six minutes,” Sam replied. “She’s dropping out of hyperspace right on top of the outer marker. No issues with the buffer zone.”

  “Of course not,” Cam muttered. “She always did have a flair for dramatic entries.”

  Vala smirked. “Sounds like she and I are going to get along famously.”

  Cate exchanged a look with Mori, who merely arched an eyebrow. “This going to be a problem Cam?”

  Cam straightened. “Hell, no Cate. Just history.”

  Cate nodded, unconvinced but not pushing it. “Good. Because we’re writing a new chapter, and we need everyone on the same page.”

  “How does she do that?” Daniel whispered to Jack, lounging over by a wall.

  “Do what Daniel, what are talking about?”

  Fumbling for the right words, Daniel thought for a second. “Well, she’s only a Major, but Cate just seems to take over as if she were in charge. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather her than a lot of other officers I could mention. But isn’t there some kind of protocol here?”

  Out of the corner of Teal’c’s mouth he was heard to say. “Squadron Leader, Catherine MacGregor is not a Major.”

  “Oh, don’t be pedantic T. Anyway… “ Jack turned to Daniel. “… just like her old man. During our staff training, sometimes the instructor was a one star. William was a Lieutenant Commander, Major if you like. He’d often correct the General about something and ninety nine point nine percent of the time, he was right.” He glanced back to the centre of attention. “Damn. I wouldn’t want anyone else leading this parade either.” And that, with all of his three stars.

  The central screen blinked. A moment later, a bright flare marked Aurora’s re-entry into normal space.

  “Contact,” a technician announced. “UNS Aurora has exited hyperspace. Hailing us on command frequency.”

  Jack stepped forward. “Put her through.”

  A moment of static; and then a crisp voice, full of confidence, cut through the speakers.

  “Alpha Site, this is Aurora. Colonel Radovic on approach. Requesting permission to enter low planetary orbit and initiate beam-down sequence.”

  He allowed himself the smallest of smiles.

  “Permission granted, Colonel. Welcome to the fight.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Alpha Site – Beam Chamber, 10:54 hours

  The beam chamber was all steel plating and soft blue light, a reinforced room deep within the command hub designed to receive personnel from ships in orbit. A pair of Marines stood at attention near the back wall, while Cate, Cam, Sam, and Vala waited near the console.

  A soft chime signalled the incoming transport.

  The air shimmered. Light coalesced into a column; briefly blinding, before resolving into three figures in dark uniforms: Colonel Lily Radovic at the centre, flanked by her XO and a security officer.

  She was exactly as Cam remembered her: tall, effortlessly poised, with light brown, almost blonde hair pulled into a severe braid, and eyes like polished steel. Her uniform was crisp, not a thread out of place, but it was the small tilt of her head, the smirk she wore like a sidearm, that said she knew exactly how much gravity she carried in a room.

  Her eyes swept over the reception party and locked onto Cam.

  “Well, well,” she drawled, accent smooth and unmistakably Texan. “I didn’t expect to see you, Cammy.”

  Behind Cam, Cate coughed once, trying and failing to disguise it as a throat clear.

  Vala made a sound suspiciously like a stifled giggle.

  Cam, however, froze for half a second before recovering. “Colonel Radovic. Welcome to Alpha Site.”

  Lily stepped down from the beam platform, smiling, like the cat who had just located the entire aviary.

  “I see you’ve been keeping busy. Running tactical briefings, commanding special ops teams... being adorable under pressure.”

  That earned a louder giggle from Vala. Even Cate cracked a grin.

  Sam, diplomatic as ever, stepped in. “It’s good to see you again, Colonel. We appreciate the rapid response.”

  Lily nodded to her. “Colonel Carter. Likewise. General Hammond conveyed your message. We prepped for full deployment during hyperspace transit.”

  She turned back to Cate and offered a hand. “You must be MacGregor. Heard plenty.”

  Cate took her hand and shook it firmly. “Then I hope half of it was accurate.”

  “Oh, probably only the boring half,” Lily said, her smile flashing. “The rest I intend to discover for myself.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Cate replied smoothly. “Let’s get you briefed.”

  As they turned toward the corridor, Vala leaned toward Cam and whispered behind her hand, “Cammy?”

  “I told you,” Cam hissed.

  “Do you think she has a pet name for everyone, or just the ones she breaks in sparring matches?”

  Behind them, Lily turned her head just slightly and said without looking back, “Still listening, Vala.”

  “Of course you are,” Vala murmured, grinning.

  “I assume Michelle, I mean Colonel Bixby’s role has been usurped by some senior staff officer with a star or two?” Lily said casually.

  “That would be my stars.” Jack moved away from the wall, toward the table. “Yes and no. As far as I’m concerned, she still commands the Alpha Site, I’m just the ringmaster. You know; organising the chaos, trying not to get eaten by the lions.”

  “Oh.” Her face turned red. “General O’Neill, I didn’t see you there. My apologies sir.”

  “I get a lot of that.” He remarked. “No need to apologise Radovic.” He patted down his jacket. “So, is Colonel Bixby a friend?”

  Cam nodded to Lily, then turned to face Jack. “The three of us went to academy together, General. We took turns in stirring up trouble.”

  “I’ll bet,” murmured Cate, suppressing a smile.

  Jack arched an eyebrow. “Oh good. A reunion. That’s never gone sideways before.”

  Vala held back a chuckle.

  Lily, utterly unapologetic, offered Jack a sharp salute and a smile. “Oh, we were, very educational, sir.”

  Where’s Dixon? :

  Cate glanced around the group. “Has anyone seen Commander Dixon?”

  Teal’c inclined his head. “Approximately thirty minutes ago. He stated he was retiring to his quarters, having completed a two-hour combat air patrol.”

  Cate tapped her radio. After a brief squawk of static and some fiddling with the settings, she keyed the mic.

  “Dixon, do you copy?”

  Undercover:

  The room was dark, save for the soft glow of standby lights on the console. The air was heavy and warm, and the unmistakable creak of a bed rhythmically shifting echoed in the small space. Two forms moved under the blankets, intertwined, limbs entangled in something far more intense than debriefing.

  The radio on the bedside table crackled to life.

  “Dixon, do you copy?”

  Dusty flinched so hard he almost launched off the bed. “What the fuck!”

  He tumbled to the floor with a thud, arms flailing as he scrambled to grab his comset from the nightstand.

  Ariel Speckman sat up quickly, her red hair threatening to cover the freckles across her face. She pulled the sheet over her chest, eyes wide like she’d just been caught by a commanding officer; which, to be fair, she had.

  Dusty finally clipped on the comset and keyed it. “Dixon here,” he managed, breathless.

  Cate raised a brow. “Dusty, what are you doing?”

  A long pause.

  On the other end, Ariel’s voice filtered through, confused but not exactly quiet.

  “Who is it?”

  Dusty hissed, “Cate.”

  Another pause.

  “Is someone there with you, Dusty?” Cate asked, her tone shaded with suspicion and dry amusement.

  “Oh, um...” He cleared his throat. “Angel and I are just, ah, just going over squadron assignments.”

  Cate blinked, then slowly repeated the phrase for those present.

  “‘Going over squadron assignments.’”

  Vala, never one to miss a beat, made a crude gesture with her fingers; thumb and forefinger in a circle, the other index finger jabbing in and out. Sam rolled her eyes. Lily grinned outright.

  Cate coughed, barely restraining a laugh, then keyed the mic again.

  “Well, when you’re finished ‘assigning squadrons,’ Commander,” she said, letting the quotes hang in the air, “we’ll be in the CIC.”

  There was a muffled noise on the other end; possibly Dusty walking into something in the dark, before his voice came back, resigned.

  “Copy that. On my way.”

  Cate glanced at Sam. “Let’s hope he shows up with his uniform the right way round.”

  Vala smirked. “Or at least zipped.”

  Lily leaned toward Cam. “Do your pilots always come this prepared?”

  Cam sighed. “Only when they’re supposed to be off duty.”

  Jack gave a sharp nod. “Alright people, we’ve had our fun for today, let’s move. Time to bring Colonel Radovic up to speed. Captain McFearson and Colonel Kovacs will connect via video.”

  They turned toward the corridor, the mood still light; but the gravity of the situation waiting in the CIC just ahead.

  Alpha Site – Command and Information Centre (CIC), 1100 hours

  Nine hours to zero hour.

  The corridor to the CIC was a gauntlet of readiness. Armed personnel; Marines, Gurkhas, Airborne, SASR; stood guard at regular six-metre intervals, each one a quiet signal that Colonel Michelle Bixby wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

  “Someone’s raised the alert level,” Jack muttered, eyes sweeping the security with a practiced glance.

  “Colonel Bixby,” Sam confirmed. “She doubled security protocols an hour ago.”

  When the group entered the CIC, the atmosphere was all business. Screens displayed live telemetry from recon drones, troop movements, and satellite imagery. The tactical table pulsed with holographic overlays of Merrenden and the surrounding sectors. Standing at the far end were two generals already deep in discussion.

  Michelle stepped forward, voice crisp. “Generals, this is Colonel Mori Kashegawa, United States Marine Corps. He commands the standing Alpha Site ground forces.”

  Lieutenant General Don Bradbury, Royal Gurkha Rifles, offered a firm handshake. “Colonel, good to finally meet you. We’ve been well briefed.”

  Brigadier General Owen Lee, commander of the 1st Marine Tank Battalion, gave a curt nod. “Been hearing good things. Alpha Site’s in fine hands.”

  “Appreciate that,” Mori said, shaking both hands in turn. “Glad to have your teams on board. I’ve kept things ticking, but this scale of reinforcement is something else.”

  Cate stepped closer and leaned toward him with a grin. “Told you they knew who you were.”

  Mori arched a brow. “You also told me I wouldn’t be the only old warhorse in the room.”

  As if on cue, General Lee smirked. “Only one more of us still inbound; Major General Harry Sutcliffe, 2nd Australian Cavalry Regiment. Landed an hour ago but insisted on seeing his troops in Merrenden before coming here.”

  “Sutcliffe?” Mori blinked. “I’ll be damned.”

  “You know him?” Bradbury asked.

  “We’ve crossed paths,” Mori said. “He’s as by-the-book as they come... assuming he wrote the book.”

  Lee chuckled. “He came up through the ranks. Like you. Like me.”

  Cate tilted her head. “So, the warhorses are forming a herd.”

  Jack, already skimming a tactical display, didn’t look up. “Just so long as you can charge when it counts.”

  The doors at the rear of the CIC hissed open.

  Lt. Commander Neville “Dusty” Dixon and Lieutenant Arielle “Angel” Speckman finally made their appearance; both in dress of the day, faces composed. Dusty’s collar was slightly askew, and his hair still held the faint dampness of a too-quick shower.

  Cate looked up, one brow raised. “You made good time.”

  Before Dusty could reply, Daniel; without looking up from the holographic map; added mildly, “Do squadron positions always take long?” He could have as easily announced to everyone, ‘Dixon and Arielle were having sex!’

  Dusty froze, blinked once, then gave an exaggerated cough. “Just... you know. Reviewing readiness protocols.”

  Angel’s face didn’t flinch, but the corners of her mouth betrayed the smallest twitch.

  Michelle Bixby gave a thin smile. “Glad to have you both.”

  Sam arched a brow and leaned toward Cate. “Readiness protocols?”

  “Squadron assignments,” Cate whispered back.

  Dusty and Angel moved to join the group around the table. Vala gave a theatrical cough, then slowly raised her eyes toward Dusty; clearly sizing him up.

  Her fingers flicked subtly, gesturing to her own collar, then giving a not-so-subtle tug upward.

  Dusty looked at her, confused. “What?”

  Cate’s attention sharpened. She followed Vala’s line of sight and locked onto Dusty’s neck.

  There it was.

  Plain as day. Just above the collar.

  She let out a quiet noise of disbelief and tapped two fingers to the side of her own neck in warning. He still didn’t get it.

  Jack looked up at last, squinted... then pointed.

  “Dixon,” he said, flat as a board, “is that a hickey?”

  Dusty’s mouth opened. Then closed.

  There was a beat of silence.

  Teal’c inclined his head solemnly. “O’Neill, I do believe Commander Dixon is wearing an erythema.”

  Vala grinned outright.

  Angel buried her face in her hand.

  From behind the table, Colonel Bixby gave a long, measured exhale and muttered, “Oh for God’s sake.”

  General Lee didn’t even look up from the tactical overlay. “Just as long as he can still fly.”

  Cate shook her head, barely containing a laugh. “We’re going to war in nine hours, and this is what we’re dealing with.”

  Jack clapped his hands once. “Alright, enough foreplay. Can we please focus before someone starts licking the tactical display?”

  A General meeting:

  There was an air of silence for a moment until a tactical tech’s voice cut through the bustle. "Major General Sutcliffe has arrived by Blackhawk, sir. ETA, two minutes."

  “Thanks Sergeant.” Jack told him.

  There was a silent pause as everyone looked towards the entry to the CIC, a few moments later the door to the CIC swung open, and in stepped Major General Harry Sutcliffe, his boots heavy with mud, face streaked from the elements. His wild ginger hair, damp and sticking to his forehead, betrayed the rigours of his journey. A wide grin creased his face as he took in the room, immediately drawing attention.

  Mori’s eyes locked on him as Sutcliffe wiped his hands on his muddy trousers before extending a hand. "Well, well, well. Look what the bloody wind blew in," he said, his Gordie accent thickening as he spoke.

  Mori broke into a smile, his expression lighting up. "Harry, good to see you again, mate. You’re looking well." The emphasis was on the ‘mate’.

  "Yeah, yeah, always the same old joke," Sutcliffe replied, giving him a playful shove as they shook hands. "But seriously, good to be here. Hope you're ready for the fun." His grin widened, eyes gleaming with that familiar combat-hardened enthusiasm.

  "I was about to say the same thing," Mori chuckled, his voice warm with recognition. "You’re a sight for sore eyes."

  Sutcliffe surveyed the room briefly, nodding as he caught the familiar faces. “Right then, I’ll just be the one covered in mud, I suppose. But it’s not the first time." His voice was light and easy, though the weathered look in his eyes suggested he'd seen his fair share of tough situations.

  Jack cleared his throat at the front of the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. "Alright, folks, before we proceed, I’ve got an announcement to make."

  He moved over to Mori, handing him a small black case with a firm, deliberate gesture. Mori’s eyebrows furrowed as he opened it, his eyes narrowing slightly on the contents; a pair of shiny stars.

  Jack’s expression grew a touch more serious. "These are from the President," he said, before looking to Cate. "Squadron Leader, help me out."

  Cate stepped forward, the hint of a smile on her lips as she moved to Mori’s side. Jack continued, his voice taking on a formal tone.

  "By order of the power invested in me, I hereby promote you, Colonel Mori Kashegawa, to the rank of Brigadier General. You know the rest. Congratulations."

  With that, Cate and Jack took the stars and carefully pinned them onto Mori's lapels. The room fell silent for a moment before the applause broke out, filling the space with genuine appreciation for the man who had earned this promotion through years of service and sacrifice.

  Mori looked a little stunned for a moment, before he smiled, standing a little taller. “Thank you,” he said, his voice steady but with a hint of emotion. "It’s an honour."

  As the applause continued, Sutcliffe grinned from the back of the room. “Hell of a promotion, mate. Well deserved.”

  Newly minted Brigadier Kashegawa could only nod and smile. It had been a long time coming for him.

  Alpha Site – Command and Information Centre (CIC), 1100 hours

  Seven hours to zero hour.

  Cate stood with her arms folded beside the main status screen, watching digital terrain maps flicker in and out as General Bradbury tapped through the plans. The room buzzed with tension, voices clipped and purposeful. Someone had programmed the console’s interface to emit a low chime every time a new unit was placed on the field. Cate made a mental note to disable it before she threw someone into a wall.

  Bradbury leaned in, pointing at four flashing zones on the Eskana Plains, just over five klicks south of Merrenden.

  “General Lee, where do you want your tank brigades?” he asked.

  Lee, ever the pragmatist, scratched his jaw. “We’ve allocated most of them to stick close the Alpha Site. But I can give you the 3rd Armoured and a company of 1st/11th Cuirassiers to support your flank; if you promise not to get them stuck in the marshes.”

  “I make no promises,” Bradbury replied, dryly. “But I’ll take them.”

  He turned slightly. “Brigadier Kashegawa?”

  Mori, standing with precise stillness, nodded once. “Twenty-four mortar squads, split into four platoons. We’ll embed them with your infantry.”

  “Two more regiments are setting up around Altan on the coast,” Bradbury added, bringing up another map. “They’ll have support from the 2nd Australian Cavalry and the 13th Light Brigade. We have a full brigade of mixed Cavaleiros cavalry and infantry with them. Another brigade will be located around the lake area.”

  Cate arched a brow. “The Dutch are back?”

  “Only the loud ones,” Bradbury muttered.

  Jack, standing off to one side with Cam, finally stepped forward. “SG-1 stays here. Alpha Site’s the linchpin. I need my best team on coordination.”

  Cam looked like he wanted to protest, but Teal’c beat him to it.

  “In battle, it is wiser to guard one’s rear,” Teal’c said. “Lest your front collapse from lack of foundation.”

  Sam nodded. “We’ll do better here.”

  Jack gave her a knowing look. “I’ve always said you were the smart one.”

  Before anyone could respond, Jack turned toward Dusty, who was standing next to Cate with a tablet half-tucked under his arm.

  “Commander Dixon, what’s the plan for the skies?”

  Dusty exchanged a glance with Cate, then gestured to the main display.

  “We’ve split the 56th in half,” he said. “Eight birds operating out of Alpha, the other eight from a forward strip ten klicks east of Foreston.”

  “Foreston?” Jack frowned. “There’s nothing out there but trees and bad weather.”

  “Exactly,” Cate said flatly. “Makes it harder for the Alliance to spot. Plus, we’ve got just enough ground crew to keep it running. And it’s the other side of the river”

  “Ah. What’s the name of the strip?”

  Cate deadpanned, “They’ve started calling it O’Neill Field.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “And why is that?”

  Dusty grinned. “Because it’s hard to locate, constantly under threat, and no one knows who put it there.”

  The room chuckled. Jack gave them both a look but didn’t argue.

  Before they could move on, a shimmer of light caught Cate’s eye as Elle and Kovacs stepped off the transporter pad at the rear of the room. Lily Radovic followed in a moment later, her eyes already scanning the overhead schematics.

  Elle barely had time to nod before Jack turned to her. “Glad you’re here. Let’s talk orbital defence.”

  “Three ships, spread high and wide,” Elle said. “We’ll brief in full in ten.”

  Kovacs added, “We’ll need approval to coordinate targeting protocols directly through Alpha Site. Less risk of delay.”

  Jack was about to respond when Lily interjected, reading something off her data pad. “Also, Fleet Command is being transferred to Admiral MacGregor. He’s coming via the gate within the hour.”

  Cate blinked. “Wait. What?”

  Lily looked up. “You didn’t know?”

  Cate’s jaw tightened. “Of course I didn’t.”

  Dusty shot her a side glance but wisely said nothing.

  Jack, oblivious to the growing tension, just nodded. “Good. Someone who knows how to run a war.”

  Cate muttered under her breath, “You’ve clearly never met my father at breakfast.”

  Elle leaned over the table, looking straight at Cate. “You didn’t know I served under your old man, did you?”

  “Just as Cate opened her mouth to reply to Elle, the low mechanical chuff-chuff-chuff of the Stargate spinning echoed faintly through the walls.”

  The klaxon overhead sounded once; brief, controlled, and a technician’s voice came through the overhead speakers.

  “General O’Neill, this is Gate Control. Incoming IDC, Admiral MacGregor.”

  Jack rolled his eyes and tapped his radio. “Copy that. Tell him we’ve got fresh coffee, and someone’s warming his chair.”

  He looked across the room to Lily Radovic, who was standing beside Kovacs and Elle at the main holographic display. “Lily, you’re our fleet liaison. Go roll out the red carpet.”

  Lily offered a sharp nod, her expression unreadable. “On my way.”

  In the Gate Room, the wormhole engaged with a rush of energy, and moments later, the Admiral stepped through. He was flanked by two aides, both crisply uniformed and carrying hardcases. MacGregor himself wore his Navy blacks, simple, elegant, and impossibly sharp despite the trip.

  By the time William was at the end of the ramp, Lily was there to greet him, hands behind her back in the formal way. She snapped to attention when he was a metre from her. “Admiral MacGregor.” She extended her hand. “Colonel Lillian Radovic, US Air Force and captain of the Aurora sir, your flag ship. Would you come with me, please.”

  Will looked slightly puzzled. “Pleased to meet you, Colonel.” He shook her hand. “I, ah, I expected my daughter to be here?”

  Without hesitation Lily told him. “Squadron Leader MacGregor is in the CIC, sir.” The implication hung in the air… Cate was busy.

  “This way please sir.” Her out turned hand directed him to the blast doors to their immediate right.

  She could hear his footsteps, Cate knew it was him, without even seeing him. William had to bail out at 25,000 feet many years ago, he’d broken his right leg in several places, and though it had healed, it left him with a slight limp.

  Cate didn’t move. But her stomach gave a traitorous lurch, old instincts rising like ghosts. Not fear. Not resentment. Just history. MacGregor’s eyes swept the room when he entered, registering everything in a glance, before locking onto his daughter.

  “Squadron Leader,” he said, tone brisk but not cold.

  “Admiral,” she returned, matching his restraint. There was warmth beneath it; but buried deep, for now. War made everything complicated.

  Jack stepped forward, extending a hand. “Welcome to Alpha Site Will. You’re just in time for the fireworks.”

  MacGregor shook it firmly. “Wouldn’t miss it, Jack. My orders are to assume command of orbital assets and coordinate with Alpha Site for joint operations. I’ll be raising the flag aboard Aurora as soon as she’s finalised her systems check.”

  Jack gave him a thin smile. “You’ll find we’re ready, and Captain McFearson has been waiting to brief you on defensive posture.”

  MacGregor gave a curt nod, then glanced back at Cate once more. Something passed between them; a flicker of pride, perhaps, or something harder to name.

  Then he turned to the table. “Let’s get to work.”

  Alpha Site – Command Information Centre | T-minus 4.5 hours

  Jack O’Neill watched with a wry smile as the overly tall Captain Helen McFearson stood at the front of the table, briefing like she owned the room. Which, technically, she did; at least while she was speaking.

  The old General shook his head faintly, lips twitching.

  God help me, she looks like a giraffe leaning down to drink.

  Elle, Legs to anyone who’d heard her on comms, didn’t miss a beat as she swept a hand across the main tactical holo, displaying the three-ship formation holding high orbit over the planet.

  “We’ve tightened the perimeter,” she said. “Aurora’s locked in above the southern pole, running a wide ECM net to mask the weaker points. Invincible and Chekov are reinforcing the upper lateral orbit. If they’re coming, we’ll see them.”

  Captain Vidmar Kovacs of the Chekov nodded, arms folded. His voice was low and matter of fact.

  “Latest intel from the Tok’ra suggests the Alliance might be committing up to twenty thousand troops to this theatre. They'll be deploying by troop ship once the space corridor’s clear. Could be staggered waves, could be all at once. We’re not going to know until they’re practically in atmo.”

  Elle’s expression didn’t shift. “Which means we need to hit them before they establish landing patterns. Once they’ve dug in, we’ll be fighting them both in orbit and dirtside.”

  Colonel Lily Radovic, cool and sharp in her USAF battledress, tapped a finger against the rail beside her.

  “My CAG, Lieutenant Colonel Jason Nguyen, has full air wing coordination authority. He’s running readiness drills now. Strike teams are prepped, and loadouts have been adjusted based on projected targets.”

  Kovacs gave a grunt. “Hope he’s got stamina. If they delay, our crews are going to burn out holding formation for six straight hours.”

  Elle nodded slowly. “We’ll rotate watch stations and cycle patrols. Keep everyone warm but rested. And I’ve authorised light ECM pulses every twenty minutes. If they’re scanning us, let’s keep them second-guessing.”

  There was a murmur of agreement. Plans were in place. Everything that could be done, was being done.

  Jack cleared his throat. “All right, listen up. We’ve got four and a half hours to go. Take a breather. Two-hour recess for anyone not on a critical station. Grab food, clear your heads. If you’ve got lucky socks, now’s the time.”

  The officers began to filter out slowly, a few with nods of acknowledgement, others murmuring updates to aides. Will looked fondly over to Elle. “Good to see you again McFearson.

  “You to sir, I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

  Jack’s eyes followed one figure as she moved through the side door, quietly, without so much as a word to anyone.

  Cate.

  She didn’t need to say anything. It was in the way her shoulders were set, the tension in her steps. She’d been on edge since the last transmission.

  Will saw it, too. Stopped halfway through a note he was writing down.

  Jack stepped up beside him, voice low.

  “She’s running too hot, Will. You know how that ends.”

  Will glanced toward the now-closed door but said nothing.

  Jack gave him a look only old friends could get away with. “You should go. Before she breaks something... or bolts.”

  You could feel the man sweat.

  Then Will nodded and quietly stepped away from the console, heading after her. “Excuse me.” He said to the room.

  Air Wing Officer’s Accommodation Level 2:

  The knock was almost lost within the omnipresent drone of the underground machinery. Frowning, Cate looked up and over at the door, glaring at the grey panel until she heard the noise again.

  Small, rhythmic taps; no more than a single knuckle rapping against the institutionalized make of the cabin's door. And even though the gesture was seemingly meek, she knew who it was.

  Stubbornly, she resituated herself on her bed, drawing her knees closer to her chest. Heels digging into the thin mattress of her bed, she closed her eyes and concentrated, hoping against hope that her silence, coupled with the pride of the person on the other side of her door, would force her visitor to leave.

  She heard a stilted mutter, and then feet shifting heavily on the other side of the door. A larger thud, was that his forehead against the partition? Cate glanced back over; as if she could see through the walls and see what he was doing.

  It was almost a relief when her eyes met nothing but a stark drab wall. It was easier to deal with her father when she couldn't see him.

  "Cate." His voice sounded slightly off somehow, as if his throat were tight, his breath short. His pain bled through the words, the tone, his normally strident cadence somewhat stilted. "Cate, we need to talk."

  She rolled her eyes. Usually, when he said that, it meant that he needed to talk, and she needed to listen. Conversing wasn't something that came easily to men like Will; powerful men, strong men. For years, the Admiral's wife had tried to get him to temper his manner with his daughter; and for years, she had failed. It wasn't the speaking part of communicating that Will struggled with. It was the listening part.

  A fact that blared into evidence with his words. "Cate. Let me in." Notably not a request. It was an order.

  She groaned and ran an exasperated hand through her hair. "Why should I?"

  The pause was longer this time, and when his voice finally made its way through the partition, it sounded different; as if he were forcing himself into a box. "Cate. Please."

  She counted to thirty. Then ten more. Finally, with a rough exhale, Cate stood and crossed to the door, opening it with a practiced swipe of her hand.

  Her father stood a few feet from the entrance, obviously about to leave. As the door slid wide, he turned to face her, his face haggard and worn.

  For a moment they just stared at each other… their stances, their expressions similar, indicative more than colouring or facial features that they did, indeed, share the same genes. And Cate felt stricken by how old her father suddenly appeared; and more human than she'd ever seen him before. More fragile. Breakable.

  And it occurred to her for the first time in her life that the old man was just that, aging. Of course, being practically killed earlier couldn't have helped matters. Deep lines in his face showed worry, doubt, and something indefinable for a man such as Will… something beyond fear… something worse.

  Pain.

  Physical? Mental? She watched as he rubbed a hand over salt and pepper beard, his broad cheek.

  Spiritual?

  "We need to talk about this, Cate."

  "Dad, I… "

  They'd spoken at the same time. Ruefully, one side of Cate's mouth twitched upwards, and she breathed deeply before ceding the conversation over to her father with a seemingly nonchalant wave of a flattened palm. “You know I never wanted this life for you." He stood back a step or two from the door, balanced perfectly on his feet. With those feet apart, arms folded, and shoulders squared, he looked more ready for battle than reconciliation. Even so, he seemed nervous. He rocked backwards on his heels briefly before continuing. "You’ve only seen the edge of the reality out here, you’ve not seen the worst of it yet.”

  "As opposed to what? Dodging Guidance Bureau troops moving out of Pyongyang?" At the Admiral's frown, she continued. "I assure you, the universe has nothing on stoic North Koreans and their ability to seriously crimp my style."

  Will snorted, his attempt at not rolling his eyes a brilliant failure. "You didn't belong there, either."

  "You've said all this before, Dad." Cate leaned against the door frame, bracing one hand on her hip. "Believe me when I tell you that I've done quite an extensive risk and benefit analysis. I'm rather well educated, you know."

  "How can you have taken them into consideration when you don't know what they are?" He shifted, gesturing tightly with one hand. "You have no idea what's out there."

  “And you do? You lied to me. Both of you.” There was the start of a tear in her eye. “Just exactly how long have you and Mum known about the Stargate Program.”

  Will became defensive in his shift. “We didn’t lie, we just didn’t tell you.”

  “It’s the same thing.” She snapped. “How long?”

  “It isn’t and you of all people know that. Two thousand and four, when they started recruiting for the Atlantis mission.” His voice dropped off, as if he realised the guilt.

  It only made Cate angrier. “Five bloody years! And you said nothing when Sam Carter recruited me, nothing!”

  “Catie, I wanted to, God knows I wanted to.” Will stopped speaking, what could he say? Perhaps the truth. “Your mother wanted you to find out for yourself. Wanted you to see the dangers.”

  "Dangers? I wouldn't be here if I hadn't done my homework. I’ve had eighteen months to learn."

  "Homework? You can't study up on these situations. Especially not when you're more used to other pursuits. This war isn't like Calculus or your Physics equations."

  Cate's jaw tightened. With a tense shake of her head, she narrowed her eyes. "So, now you're doubting not only my efficacy in my job, but also my research skills?"

  "I'm not doubting anything."

  "Oh please, Dad." She straightened, snorting with a derision she was only mildly surprised that she actually felt. "That's what you do best."

  "Protect you from yourself?" His arms dropped to his sides, and he glared at her. "That sounds about right. Someone needs to."

  "No. Doubting." She shook her head more violently, this time. "That's what I meant. What you do best is doubt me."

  Footsteps echoed in the close quarters of the hallway. Not in unison, a trio of soldiers emerged around a corner and then headed towards Will, muttering their "excuse me, Sir." as they passed him and wended their way through the grey corridor. Mac's eyes drifted shut, and his lips practically disappeared.

  Cate waited until their passage was complete before answering her father.

  You're not protecting me." She leaned into the doorframe, shoulder catching painfully on a sharp edge. "You're proving a point, that I'm not ready. That you're better. Like always.

  "Cate."

  "Listen. If this is all you came here for, then forget it." Cate pushed away from the wall and reached her hand towards the door controls.

  "Your mother…"

  "Would support me, and you know it."

  To Cate's surprise, her father didn't offer a rebuttal or reply. He simply froze, the only movement he made being a small twitch in the muscle at his temple.

  "But you don't belong here." He raised his head enough to look her in the eye. "And you know it."

  Heat burned at the back of her eyelids, and Cate swallowed a moan. "Why not? Because I'm not quite so military anymore? Or because I'm your daughter and not your son?"

  "Catie."

  She shook her head. "The thing is that you think you know me. But you don't. And you've never bothered to figure me out. Even when I was a kid, you didn't understand me." Her fingers teased at the "close" button on the control panel. "So, I'll help you out. I'm you, Dad. Stubborn and officious and determined. And I'm not going anywhere near home until I can end this senseless war and protect my family."

  "Damn it, Cate."

  "Damn it, Dad."

  When he didn't say anything else, Cate looked away, down towards his feet, planted there in the hall like so many immovable trees. Symbolic, maybe, of something Cate didn’t want to explore. She closed her eyes for a breath, then felt her body sag a little. So tired; exhausted. So, done.

  "Whatever, Dad. Just go." She pressed the button, and moved backwards as the door began its slide home.

  "Cate!" A sudden rush of movement blurred on the other side of the door, and the Admiral's hand appeared in the narrowing opening, his fingers curling around the moving panel. Like a lift door, the panel jerked backwards to reveal Will standing close… brooding. "Please don't."

  "Why shouldn't I? You're not listening to what I'm saying."

  "The same could be said the other way, too."

  "That's where you're wrong, Dad." Cate stepped backwards, lifting a hand to brush the hair back off her forehead. "I listen to what you say. I just don't happen to agree with it at the moment."

  He stood in the doorway, awkward, slightly stooped as if he felt the roof was about to cave in. His normally implacable face hosted a myriad of emotions has he gazed at his daughter, until finally he lowered chin slightly and breathed deeply. Voice tight; more a growl than a tone, he gritted out his words. "You're right."

  Cate had seen lightning once, jolting bright and brilliant out of a cloudless sky. She'd been at school at the time, year ten, as she remembered it, and her Phys Ed class had been playing field hockey. The lightning had hit a decent distance away, licking in perfect flame at a barren hill behind the school grounds. All activity on the field had stalled, with those having witnessed the bolt turning complete circles while looking heavenwards in an attempt to place the origination point. But there had been nothing obvious, merely blue, perfect skies and endless sunshine and absolutely no hint as to where the jolt had come from. It had been an aberration, an anomaly… a cosmic mistake.

  Lightning from the blue.

  And now, on a planet light years from home, Cate felt the same stunned wonder as she had all those years ago. She felt her mouth gape open and forced herself to clamp her lips shut.

  There it was. The acknowledgement she'd been seeking.

  But still, she couldn't keep herself from asking. "I'm what?"

  "Right. What you said about your mother." His shoulders lifted slightly. "You're spot on. She'd leave no stone unturned to keep her family safe."

  Cate nodded, her jaw tensing as she waited.

  "And she'd do it whatever it took, no matter what. And I would expect no less of her." The Admiral scowled. "Or of you."

  And her anger dissipated just a bit; just enough for her to be able to look at the man sandwiched in the door frame and see him as something more than the overbearing tyrant she'd come to tolerate. But to see him as a man, a man who was worried about his child, about his wife, about his planet. A man who had more resting on his sizable shoulders than most men ever dreamed of.

  And despite herself, a man she still loved with an intensity that unnerved her.

  "Come on in, Dad." Cate stepped aside, offering no more than that in the way of invitations. "Before the door decides to close again."

  He entered and stood full in the centre of the room, sparing a single look behind him as the door slid shut. His full focus then rested on his daughter's rumpled bed, and the boots she'd kicked off on the serviceable woollen blanket.

  For a full minute, they stood in silence, until Cate rounded the Admiral and sat herself down on the bed, perching on the edge, feet flat on the floor. Looking up at her father, she tilted her head to one side. "You were saying?"

  The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "You're going to make me repeat it? You are your mother's daughter."

  "I'm more my father's daughter."

  And what was that light that crossed his expression? Pride? Resignation? Whatever, Will quelled it before answering. "That you are."

  "Then why can't you accept my choices?"

  His eyes turned brilliant, before he closed the lids and shuttered himself again. "Cate… I wanted more for you."

  "More than what?"

  "More than this. Danger and death and destruction."

  Cate's lips curved. "So, if I eliminate the letter 'd' from my alphabet, we should be good to go?"

  "Catherine… "

  She held up a hand. "I'm sorry. I know what you mean. You wanted a normal life for me. Little house in the country and a dog named Boo. Three rugrats and a station wagon, that kind of thing?"

  His nod seemed benign. "Something like that."

  "And instead, you have a former spy who seems hell-bent on finding trouble, after a not so glorious short Air Force career, and going full circle again to put on a uniform."

  "That, too."

  "It's not going to change." She looked at him deliberately, almost daring him to meet her eye. "I'm not going to change."

  And then he did meet her gaze, full on; intense. His eyes bored beyond her tough exterior and settled somewhere near her heart. "I know that. It just makes a father think that he's lost something, to know that his daughter doesn't need him anymore."

  And that, Cate knew, was as close to an admission as she was likely to get. The wall she'd spent the last few years of her life erecting wrenched aside, beginning to crumble. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, and further down at where her socks covered her feet that seemed so black against the floor. Looked down to try and disguise the smile that stole across her features.

  "And you can stop trying to hide your face, missy." His big feet shuffled closer to her.

  Looking up, Cate regarded her father steadily. "So, you're okay with me being here?"

  "No." He shrugged, then winced. "But that doesn't seem to matter all that much, now, does it?"

  "Not really." Cate stood. "But it would be nice to be able to be in the same place, without having to check around every corner before I turn it."

  Will smiled, this time. "Not that you'd be afraid of me."

  "Nope, really more like annoyed."

  Suddenly, Cate found herself enveloped by her father's strong arms, pulled tightly against his chest, her face pressed into his collarbone. And it was as if she were a child again, that embrace felt natural, and right, like cool water after a walk in the desert. She wound her arms around his neck, stretching up on tiptoe to fit her cheek against his.

  Behind them, another knock sounded on the door. Insistent, purposeful, the harsh rapping was accompanied by a voice. "Catherine! Are you still in there?"

  Vala. Cate's grip slid a bit, and she let a tiny groan escape. "She and I were planning on eating together."

  But the Admiral merely strengthened the embrace. "I don't want to lose you, Catie."

  "I know, Dad." Her voice low, she pulled away just far enough to meet his eyes. "I don't want to lose you, either. But I have to do this.”

  And finally, he nodded. The Admiral raised a hand to cup her chin. "You'll be careful."

  She grinned then; self-effacing, sly. "Don't worry." Patting his arm, she stepped around him and towards the door, pressing the control and sending the panel sliding wide. And as Vala's smiling, bright face greeted her, she turned her head towards her dad. "I'm like you, remember?"

  To which he replied, cocking one brow high. "That's what I'm worried about."

  Final Preparations:

  The briefing room was dark now, lit only by the faint glow of projectors and the ever-present hum of equipment ticking down toward zero hour. Just two hours remained. Two hours until the Alliance fleet tore its way out of hyperspace. No one could say with certainty where they would emerge; that, more than anything, forced the defenders to prepare for every possibility.

  Vice Admiral William MacGregor stood near the centre of the table, a hand resting lightly on the edge of the holo-display. His voice was calm, precise. “If I were them, I’d bring the fleet in here… ” he gestured behind the larger of the Wold's two moons, “… drop troopships straight toward the planet before initiating fleet engagement. Use the moon to mask the approach. It’s what I’d do.”

  A low murmur followed. Elle nodded first, already tapping out adjustments to defensive formations. Vidmar agreed, and Lily confirmed the logic with a quick analysis of expected trajectory vectors. The decision was made.

  Mines would be laid in a 200-kilometre-wide spread behind the larger moon, overlapping predicted exit corridors. A calculated gamble, one they couldn’t afford not to make.

  Final orders were issued. The 56th’s Commanding and Executive Officers, Commander Neville Dixon and Squadron Leader Catherine MacGregor, were given the go-ahead to reposition Cate’s half-squadron to O’Neill Field. There they would wait, engines hot. Once the Alliance appeared, they’d have just five minutes to get airborne, same for the backup squadrons: the F-16D ‘Ghosts’ of the 109th, and the Hawk 127s ‘Owls’ of the 36th.

  Cate didn’t linger. She acknowledged the orders with a crisp nod, then turned to her people. As she moved, she caught her father’s eye across the briefing room. For a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them, an understanding, a shared weight of the responsibility they both carried.

  Then, without breaking the connection, she turned away and walked briskly toward her squadron. Within minutes, her flight was prepped and climbing into the pale blue sky above the Alpha Site.

  They passed over Foreston within minutes.

  No matter how many times she saw it, the sight caught in Cate’s throat. Below them sprawled a city of over 200,000 souls, a living fusion of history and hope. Stone buildings with red clay roofs hugged winding cobblestone streets. Towering beside sleek modern glass structures stood grand old constructions that looked more at home in 17th-century Europe. The crown jewel, St Mark’s Cathedral, dominated the skyline with its sunlit spires and bell tower.

  From his cockpit, Nugget broke the silence. “Is that a cathedral? I didn’t realise… uh, I mean… when did Christianity end up here?”

  Cate keyed her mic. “The Asgard relocated groups from Earth centuries ago. Mostly from Northern Europe, but a good number from Portugal. That’s why their language sounds familiar.”

  There was a pause. Then another voice, Angel, murmured, “Would be a hell of a shame if this place didn’t survive.”

  No one replied. But the silence said plenty.

  As they left the city behind, the landscape opened into vast plains. A herd of Cavaleiros horses galloped freely over the grasslands, dark shapes kicking up trails of dust in the golden afternoon light. For a moment, it felt like flying over Earth again, a glimpse of peace, unspoiled.

  Then O’Neill Field came into view.

  The tarmac shimmered with heat. Revetments lined the perimeter like quiet sentinels. As Cate’s formation descended, ground crews sprang into action. Flashing hand signals and clipped radio instructions guided the F-302s one by one into their hardened shelters. No words wasted. Every movement was deliberate. Rehearsed.

  Once parked, ladders clanged into place, canopy glass hissed open. Ground personnel moved quickly checking fuel lines, rearming hardpoints, recalibrating systems. Even in the silence of engines cooling, the urgency lingered in the air.

  They were ready.