Corporal Miller

Miller held onto whatever he had nearby when the ship began shaking and alarms began blaring. "Everyone hold on! This is a bit of a bumpy ride." He was thrown around, no matter how much he held onto the ready bench he was still shook up, whatever was going on the ship wasn't meant to handle this kind of situation so soon. Eventually it levelled off and there was a call over the speakers for a medic on the bridge, they weren't too far and were at the bottom of the spire. He turned to Ariadne. "Get going to the bridge, you can probably stabilize someone before the medics can even get there." He ran out in the other direction, as with the other members of the squad as they moved out to help with any wounded...

Bob Bishop

Bishop had been enjoying some time pouring over one of the computers in the auxiliary control room when they were dropped out of hyperspace and he was flung around like a rugby ball. "What the devil is going on?" He grabbed hold to the top of one of the consoles as the ship shook. Stopping himself from going too far or too fast and causing some serious damage to himself, he couldn't get injured so soon he had Science to do.

Eventually it stopped and he wasted no time, running to a console and checking the status of the ship he winced when he saw that several of the laboratories were vented to space, he almost smirked when he noticed Dr.Ishpetyrs lab was one of those that was vented, luckily however he new the good Doctor wasn't there as he had just gotten a email indicating that he had an additional meeting with the Doctor, which meant that he had to be in his office and not in his lab. As much as he disliked the man on a professional level it surely wasn't personal and he didn't want him to die. No, he was a good scientist even if some of his ideas were completely ridiculous. Not like his, no he had forwarded an idea to the Captain shortly before they left hyperspace to upgrade the sensor suite on a F-302 to use as a recon unit. This situation would likely persuade her that such a thing was necessary.

Checking the status of the shields he began typing into the console, seeing that one of the power conduits in the bridge was overloading he split the power between several smaller conduits removing the strain from the overloading line and spreading it evenly to prevent another overload. The shields would take more time but they would be back up soon enough. Likely the Captain would like to take her back to Earth after this mission now, though as he began opening the shield systems his pager beeped, he was needed at the gate. He sighed before running to the other side of the ship...

He was out of breath by the time he got there. He was a scientist damnit not an athlete! He walked into the control room. "What's going on Sergeant?""We need you to calibrate the gate sir.""Why didn't you just do it?""The computers overloaded in the power surges... We need to do it manually." He sighed and sat down at the computer and began typing in details...

=After Events on bridge between Echo and Forsythe=

Several minutes later he finished and entered the Earth Address, the gate connecting he opened a channel. "Captain West Ma'am, I have an open connection to Earth. Patching you through now..."

The ship was buffeted about as though in a storm. It took all of Ariadne’s strength to hold herself upright, dropping her staff weapon and gripping the frame of one of the lockers with both hands until the storm released its hold on the vessel. Moments after that, a call came over the loudspeaker for a medical team on the bridge. She looked at Miller, and was quickly rewarded with a response when he told her to make haste for the bridge. She set off immediately, running as quickly as she could after retrieving her weapon. There was no telling what the reason for the alert was, and after going through so much trouble to acquire her preferred weapon, she wasn’t going to just leave it.

She saw barely superficial damage on her way up the tower, but when she reached the bridge itself the scene was somewhat more chaotic. The Guard who had stood in her way earlier was now lying awkwardly against the wall, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Her healing device was already over her hand as she came to a kneel beside the witless Tau’ri man. She raised her hand over the man’s form and from the device on her hand a warm, intense light emerged. She focused on determining the man’s injuries first, and if he could be saved. It seemed he had suffered several broken ribs, one of which had punctured his lung. It would take much longer than she was willing to spend on such a lowly minion to heal him entirely, so instead she simply repaired his lung and stemmed the bleeding - A task that took barely thirty seconds. He would survive for the Tau’ri medicines now.

Ariadne stood and entered the bridge then, her face hardening as she took in the scene of disarray. She went immediately to the Captain. “Are you injured Captain Alexis West?”

"I'm fine, why do... Oh." Alexis stopped as she saw the healing device on Ariadne's hand. "No, others need you, those who aren't screaming." she said, painfully aware some of them were beyond even the Tok'ra's help. When this is dealt with, she will have heads stuck on pikes for rushing them to service when there was no real danger present unlike with the RFS Korolev. "How is the crew in the rest of the ship?" she asked Ariadne, as she only received damage report and nothing on how her crew was doing.

As soon as she heard that the Captain wasn’t injured, Ariadne knelt over one of the other bridge crew that was sprawled on the ground nearby. She kept listening to the Captain as she focused on the injured crewman’s injuries. A concussion. A fairly simple thing to fix short term. She repaired the damage, and once done realised the Captain had been expecting an answer for several seconds now. She replied as she moved to the next injured person, this one a woman. “Corporal James Miller was unharmed. Those I passed in the halls seemed shaken, but uninjured. I believe the Pel’tak was one of the hardest hit areas.” The woman had some serious electrical burns from her exploded console. She was, in fact, lucky to be alive. Ariadne focused on repairing the worst of the wounds and taking away the pain. The skin transformed and restored itself in front of her eyes, and she could feel Idalia’s wonder at the sight. She smiled at that. It was good to feel so appreciated.

Having nothing else to do, West went around helping to patch up those that were just cut and bruised, sparing a few seconds to talk to them and make sure they would be alright. She was glad the rest of the ship suffered less in terms of injuries: "Good... After a fashion..." Moving over, she came across the dead soldier, wincing at the sight. So far she served on a sub for over ten years, and she has never lost a crewman, and took great pride in that. And while she expected that would eventually happen as the Tempest was still closer to a surface vessel once combat was initiated, it was new. Kneeling down, she took the man's tag and pocketed it, thinking she'd have a letter to write. At least she had to do that before, but that didn't make it any easier.

Ariadne looked around the Bridge for another crewman needing her attention, and was pleased to find no more. The only ones remaining were either hardly injured at all or dead. She then focused on the injured woman, intent on healing her completely. A part of her couldn’t help but think the crew may not be up to the task of piloting this ship. After all, if they were, this would have been avoided. Before she spoke up about the quality of the crew though, Idalia quite suddenly advised her to be a little more sensitive. She often forgot that most were not as jaded as she after all.

Once Astridh had sent the command for a flight of F-302’s to go out, she got up from the console, sure in that things would be taken care of as needed. The medical team had yet to arrive, so she started helping in what way she could with treating the injured, leaning heavily upon Eydis’ knowledge of human physiology. She kept herself somewhat distanced from the other Tok’ra, but not obviously so. Once the medics arrived, she gave them detailed descriptions of the injured she had checked. She did not have as much experience, or gear, as them, but she had more than basic training for it. Had she not been considerably better at tactics, she could easily have seen herself as one of them. Besides, her and Eydis’ plan needed higher skills than merely those of a medic to be attractive to the Tempest project. Not that they had known its name back then.

"Thank you." West replied, tapping her comm unit. "SGC This is the Tempest, we have arrived at the designated planet, but we've dropped out of hyperspace in an uncharted debris field of..." She patched to the 302s as well, "Escort flight, see if you can ID the origin of the debris!" she ordered, turning her attention back to the long distance call, "Of unknown origin. The ship sustained some damage in a collision, one corridor was breached and we've lost power to some systems, including shield. At least one casualty, but we're capable of proceeding with the mission. Over."

“Copy that Tempest-” The voice was that of Cam Mitchell, temporary head of the SGC. “We’ll speak to Homeworld Command and get the navy to prepare the shipyard, your brand new Asgard Weapons are finished so you may as well get them installed. That is if you feel that you will need a dock to fulfill repairs or do you think it is just a simple patchwork job?”

"I don't know yet sir, it's too early to tell, but from what I'm told we shouldn't even attempt to enter hyperspace at this time." Alexis reported, but was interrupted by the escort: "Ma'am, whoever they were, there isn't much of them left. Whatever happened to them left just charred remains. I can't say for sure but it doesn't look like anything in our database. It's neither Goa'Uld nor Ancient." West's eyes widened a bit in surprise, but she relayed the find to colonel Mitchell.

“All right Captain, we’ll have the Apollo standing ready to assist if necessary, make sure to have a look at the debris we’ve come across very few space faring races other than the Goa’uld and the Ancients within the Milkyway and the fact that this gate wasn’t on the Goa’uld cartouche there is a high chance they have never been there. See what you can find out, your mission orders still stand to check it out though if you feel it may jeopardize the lives of your crew you can stand down, repair and return home for full repairs.”

"I don't believe that's necessary sir. We'll affect repairs while the ground team does it's search and limp home once the gate is moved if there is anything worth returning back to. I'll see if we can find a piece small enough to bring it back for study. Tempest out." West finished, instructing the gate tech to shut it down. "Well, I'm lucky that wasn't Landry on the line." She grumbled for herself, not really liking the man from what she heard of him. Then again, she thought that about O'Neill too. "Snipes, see if you can find a piece small enough to fit in the hangar. Don't stray too far, I don't need a squashed pilot to add to the list! The rest of you return to patrol." she barked.

In the bridge things were settling down, as people who were wounded were healed by the Tok'ra and then suddenly out of nowhere sparks began flying out the separate consoles. Screens flickered and went black, obviously something was wrong with several of the smaller conduits and the damage had not been picked up by the sensors for when it was being re-routed from the main conduit system. The screen systems began to flash and the warnings began blaring again.

Lights flickered and then suddenly, the panel beside the chair to the weapons console exploded sending the occupant in that chair sailing to the other side of the room. He emitted a brief groan before he passed out, blood pooling over the floor.

---

Alyssa/Miller

Miller was with Alyssa, pulling people out of one of the burning rooms, he placed the wounded man down as he tapped his radio. "I need a medical team to the deck C-Twenty Two mess hall. Multiple burn victims-" He heard a cracking noise and looked out, the glass in the window fractured and he felt himself pulled towards the outside of the ship. He grabbed onto the hull and watched as Alyssa was pulled out. "Miller to bridge, shut the door to the mess hall! Shut the door now! We have a breach! It's pulling people out!"

The last thing he saw before the door closed was a flash of light, the Asgard Beam, collecting people who were floating off into space. He quietly murmured a prayer to whoever was managing to work through the chaos on the bridge to beam people safely aboard as he lifted himself off the ground. "I really need that medical team now."

Ariadne was taken completely by surprise when the conduits overloaded. She immediately drew her Zat'nik'tel and extended it, standing as she did so. She cast about for a target for only a moment, then realized what had happened was not due to enemy fire. She quickly holstered the weapon once more, seeing as she did so the prone, broken body of another Tau'ri man. She rushed to him and knelt raising the healing device. She was feeling drained already from restoring the Tau'ri woman to almost perfect health and her arms ached, but she nonetheless activated the device again. As the light from the small device shone down onto his form, Ariadne saw in her minds eye the injuries he was inflicted with.

The right side of his body was badly burned, his right arm and leg were broken and he was suffering massive internal bleeding. He had a concussion and multiple fractures, as well as a punctured lung. Too much for her to heal. Maybe if she were well rested, there might have been a possibility, but not now. She put all she could into the healing, but all she was able to do was stop his body from expiring right there and then. With that, she relinquished her own body back to Idalia, too exhausted to exert control over her host any more.

Idalia stood then, retrieving her Staff Weapon from the floor with aching arms. "I am sorry Captain... I cannot do anything more for this man. I hope your Medical staff can save him..." She felt strange. Physically tired, but more than that. Emotionally exhausted. Ariadne's presence was dulled, still strong, but she felt no coherent thought from her symbiote. She could only imagine how Ariadne must have felt if she herself had only received a lesser form of the effect of heavy use of a healing device. She looked up at the captain again, her exhaustion evident on her face. "If you will excuse us? Healing these people has exhausted Ariadne and I... We need to rest."

Alyssa

beep, beep, beep An annoying beeping sound that was... why is it so dark... beep, beep, beep ugh I wish it would stop, where is it coming from anyway. I look around. Its hard as if my neck is stuck, i can't turn my head. I start to panic and can;t really remember what happened. The last thing I remember was that I was with Miller saving people, then a hard cracking noise and then... nothing, I don't know. beep, beep, beep God, make it stop please! Muffled voices can be heard. I can't really distinguish who they are and what they are saying. the only clear sounds are my thought and the annoying beeping sounds. I can't see, I can't move.

a silent whisper leaves Allysa's mouth: 'Miller... help...'

Ethan

The ship duck beneath a large chunk of meteor. 'Shield's charging!' Alarm bells were ringing. I quickly load up the rail guns but because there is no distinguished target I need to aim them myself. 'Weapons ready, changing controls to manual!' I start reading the movement s of our ship and shoot the meteors to the best of my ability. but Logan suddenly dodged the other way than I predicted. I missed a shot. a large rock hit the ship rocking the bridge. I feel a stinging pain in my neck.

due to the rocking of the ship everyone stumbles, some are falling, some are remaining their balance. Ethan shocks forward, slamming his head against the control panel quite hard and loses consciousness.

beep, beep, beep I slowly open my eyes, my head hurts like hell. the light hurts my eyes, where the hell am I, I look around the. the room is amazingly white, wounded people are lying everywhere, was I at the medical bay? What in the world happened?

A silent curse escaped captain's lips as the console burst into flames. She grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher and put the fire out while Ariadne yet again tended to the wounded officer. She looked around closely. The bridge was for all intents and purposes destroyed. It would take a few hours to replace the damaged components in the computers, let alone to fix the power conduits. should something happen, they wouldn't be able to do much more than run, if their sublight held that is. "West to engineering, bring the auxiliary control room online." she instructed, turning to Idalia: "Of course. Thank you, both of you. You should go grab something to eat." she said, waving them to the door.

Rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger, Alexis took a deep breath. It's only been few hours since they left dock, and already the ship was disabled and. Worse, it wasn't even a fight. She started to have a gut feeling the universe hated this ship. It didn't leave her without a trace either. She was tired, and then some, having been up for a good deal even before they left Earth, overseeing the final preparations. She needed something to keep her up for a little while longer. "XO you have the bride, i'll be jsut a minute." With that she went out the door, heading for the mess to fetch a coffee.

Dr. Ishpetyr stared in open-mouthed shock as a chunk of metal - some alien ship's wing, sleek, curved, sharp, and positively venomous-looking - sliced open the hull straight through his lab. Papers vaulted off tables and into the nothingness of space. Extremely delicate, expensive equipment was indelicately smashed against the alien wing. Sensitive equipment was ripped out of calibration, ruining hours of careful work. A fire boiled beautifully into vacuum. Damnit!

He snapped out of it. If his lab was hit by the wing, then there was a good chance that other debris could get through the sheilds. The sheer incompetence of Captain West was making itself known right here and now. And that's when a horrible realization hit home. If debris could strike the hull at its own whim, decks could be sliced open. Power conduits would snap like gossamery elastic. Overloads could short out vital systems, including-!

Abel raced to his office bulkhead door. The metal was bent, and it only opened halfway. Good enough. He raced down the corridor, pushing people out of the way, vaulting clumsily over an injured sailor. He might have accidentally kicked the sailor on his way down. Not important. If the Asgard core went down, then an injured sailor would be the least of their worries. He swung himself into an access ladder and climbed frantically. He shoved his pass in front of the guard, and clawed open the door. When Abel finally managed to get to the core, he was relieved to see it intact. Not that that mattered much, of course - an intact computer is not equivalent to a working computer. Abel moved a featureless stone to a particular featureless circle - what an exceedingly clumsy interface - and waited. The core activated successfully. The capcitors and surge protectors were all reading functional, although one particularly nasty surge had hit, overloading an auxilliary panel in an obscure corridor. Thanking God, he shut down the core, and collapsed, exhausted from his run, against a console.

~o~0~o~

"You heard the Captain! Evac to auxilliary control room. Let's move! Now, now, now!" Lt. Commander Thomas shouted. He rallied the crew toward engineering. With practicied speed, he typed his passcode into the computer, authorizing a control switch. He hit the comm before he left the bridge. "This is Lt. Commander Thomas to Engineering. You better have that auxilliary control room up and running in two minutes, or there will be hell to pay." They'd practiced a bridge failure scenario several times. In the heat of battle, should the bridge fall, they'd likely have far less than two minutes. But there was no physical way to move faster, other than asgard transport beams, and Creon didn't think this scenario warranted the possibility of scattering his atoms across half the ship.

As he ran behind what was left of the bridge crew, Creon thumbed his radio. "Lt. Commander Thomas to damage control. We're running to the goddamn auxiliary control room on our maiden voyage. I am not a happy man. Fix the bridge, and do it yesterday." When they finally burst into the auxilliary control room door, Creon fixed his attention upon the navigation officer. "If we aren't into a stable and clean orbit by the time the Captain gets back, this is the last bridge shift you'll pull for a long time." Turning to the rest of the crew, he said, "Now let's make this ship easy for Captain West to fly, shall we? I want a preliminary map of surrounding debris ASAP. If we can helpt it, let's try not to make this mission into a total failure."

The crew was flying now. Things would be alright. Or else.

Logan was still at his chair and he was still thinking of how much damage did he really cost. He got up and walked to the mess hall when, the consoles were black out by the time that sparks flew all over the bridge. When the work gone, Logan would of had to redo his work again and re check the consoles and see if the ship can run again. Somehow he felt like it was his fault for the people who were hurt and the ship going all crazy, if he only had dodged that big debris. None of this would of had happened, he felt like he was the worst navigation officer in history. He heard about the mess hall and that we need to go to the auxilliary control and followed the Executive Officer. He was running to the auxilliary control when the Executive Officer ran behind him and said to Logan, "If we aren't into a stable and clean orbit by the time the Captain gets back, this is the last bridge shift you'll pull for a long time.", Logan just stool and waited until the order was complete to respond. He and the crew down at auxilliary control tired to get the ship flying and it worked, he turned to the Executive Officer and said to him, "You better bloody thank yourself because, you don't the 'blood' of the crew members on your hands, sir. I do.". He walked away for the officer and was working on the auxilliary control, he was never going to be the same person again.

---

~~Two Hours Later~~

Bob Bishop finished working at the foot of the navigational officers console, taking out a burnt out crystal and replacing it with a fully working one. He then moved around to the empty seat and began running a diagnostic system on the engines and the hyperdrive systems to ensure that they were working. Of course once it was started he wasn't really needed here. One of the main advantages over what was going on was that it gave him the ability to avoid the good Doctor Ishpetyr who was working repairs on... well he didn't really know what he was doing however the Asgard Core had been turned off for some reason. He tapped the shoulder of a black haired woman sitting at the repaired weapon officer console, she stood up and moved out of his way as he sat in the seat and began powering up the shield systems. The conduit beside him, as they hadn't replaced the panel yet, began to hum slightly. Bringing the power up from fifty to sixty percent it was more or less stable. Slowly it worked its way up to one hundred percent without blowing anything up, which was always good.

She was more or less ready. He moved over to the Captains chair, bringing up the schematics for the Recon F-302 or RF-302 as he called it that he had sent to Captain West and then pressed the communications button patching him through to auxiliary control. "This is Doctor Bishop on the bridge. She's all ready to be given control of main systems, I wouldn't recommend trying to put her through her paces anytime soon however she should be good to go."

---

Miller loaded his rifle and checked the sight. He had recently been temporarily at least promoted to the head of Strike One, he had Nielson in charge of the second section. Before him sat the rest of the team including their esteemed Tok'ra, whom they had found a vest for. "All right folks, this is the read we've got so far-" He brought up a map on the screen behind him. "On the most part it looks at least a hundred years ahead of us, though the boffins tell us that it isn't Ancient but that isn't important. What is important is that though there seems to be no-one left down on that planet there could be some valuable technology down there." A red circle appeared on the map. "We're going to check out this area, the planet is largely desert and the northern and southern poles are inhospitable and there is a large storm crossing the planet which we should avoid."

The map changed to a blackened out crater. "This crater is what it appears to be, a blast crater. There is still a radiation signature however it has faded to what it would of used to have been. This indicates that whoever they were they were in some kind of war, now while we don't currently detect life signs there could be people in bunkers or automated defence systems. We are not to touch anything that looks like a computer and are to look out for traps. Currently the only standing Linguist is Doctor McClellan so if we find any text, he's going to have to come join us, if we require a scientist we must contact Doctor Ishpetyr directly and he will assign someone to come down and visit us on the planet. Gear up, we go down as soon as the Captain has set up the bridge."

-Past-

Corporal Alexander Johnson had retired to his room shortly after the briefing had taken place, he figured that any extra hours of sleep he could get his hands on she be taken full advantage of since sleep was likely to become a commodity in the days, months even years to come in their deployment aboard Tempest. He seemed to be settling in quite well, that Corporal Miller seemed to be taking a shine to his optimistic attitude. At first he wasn't looking forward to his new station after having learned that the IOA he had despised throughout his deployment at Stargate Command was serving aboard the same ship, but having been here for his current time everything has turned out to be not that bad. He was yet to speak with the Tok'ra that was rumored to be aboard the ship. Alexander knew from first hand experience that the Tok'ra didn't get involved unless there was a specific objective they were trying to achieve, they tend to just leave us be.

Alarms.. Alexander woke from his sleep to the sound of Alarms blaring across the ship after he was thrown from his bunk as Tempest exited hyper space, he had felt a sudden jerking in the ship from what he could only assume was weapons fire. He quickly dismounted his bed and made his way outside into the hallway with his medical field kit, engineers were running up and down the corridors and from what he could tell a few people had taken some serious wounds to the head. Likely from being thrown into the bulkhead.. The nearest casualty was a scientist who was too dazed to really say anything as Alexander set about cleaning the wound and wrapping his head in a bandage. He sighed quietly to himself and stopped a nearby crew member, he needed answers.

"Hey! Listen to me, do you have any idea what is going on right now" he said as he grabbed the mans shoulder and brought him around to face him.

The stunned crew member put his hands up "Sir, i have absolutely no idea.. we have received no word from the bridg-"

Before the man could finish his sentence the speakers in the hallway opened up with Captain Wests voice, it was a call for Medical personal on the bridge. Alexander patted the man on the back and sent him off down the hallway to whatever it was he was in a hurry for and he still didn't have any answers. He packed his field kit up and began running the length of the ship and using an elevator to get to the next level where he waved his Identification card to the officer on deck.

"Medical Personal, i am here to treat the wounded" he said, pulling the ID card back.

The officer motioned him through "Go right ahead, i am sure they need your help and i won't hold you up".

- Present -

Johnson had restocked his Field Supplies at the Armoury, prior to checking out his assigned weapons. He was running with the standard gear that would have been issued to teams at Stargate Command. He rest his FN P90 across his lap and holstered his M1911A1 in the holster situated above the knee on his right leg. The P90 was an exceptional weapon in the field primarily due to its light weight and compact design which made it suitable for in door and outdoor uses. It may be 'Primitive' in terms to their Alien foes due to it not being energy based but it certainly outmatches their weapons in the field. Where the Staff Weapon is slow firing and cumbersome in tight spaces, the P90 with its high rate of fire and hard rounds make it more than capable of putting down enemy hostiles at reasonable distances and piercing their armour. The M1911 with its high caliber bullet could certainly be used in a hurry to keep a few Jaffa at bay if he needed to. He sat quietly as Miller started the briefing and when he finished he simply stood up and nodded towards Miller.

"Sir we are ready to move when you give the word, it will be good to these boots dirty.

~| Some time earlier, on the Bridge |~

Just after the console exploded around the weapons officer, Astridh heard her own console warning of severe damage to hull, this time in the primary mess hall. She rushed over to the console, then started seeing what she could do about it. However, before she could issue any warning, the damaged section broke, venting atmosphere. She knew then that every second counted. Rapidly using the console, Astridh fired up the beam array, using the sensors to lock onto anything and everything thrown out through the breech. She had no idea if it would be quickly enough to save everything, but she had to try. Just before triggering the beam array, she remembered to expand it to anyone still within the mess hall too.

Astridh sent them all to one of the larger storage rooms near the primary medical bay, hoping she had saved them all. Thankfully the bulkhead doors to the mess hall had sealed themselves up automatically, so nothing else was vented. She then proceeded to close bulkheads near all potentially damaged sections. So long as pressure was not radically different on each side, access cards would still open them, but the doors would close afterwards. She had no idea who had programmed that safety feature, but she was glad it had been programmed in. If she could do anything about it, she would ensure that no more died this day.

“Did it work?” she murmured, even as she queried the computer about it. She had, after all, never before used asgard beaming outside calm, test situations. Eventually, the computer responded that there had been some damage to at least one transported person. Somehow, that particular beam array had been malfunctioning, resulting in some error in rematerialization of one of those who had been thrown out of the ship by the explosive decompression. The computer confirmed that the issue was only present in one patient. Astridh shut that beam array down for the sake of safety and noted in the system that it was faulty. She did not know anything about fixing such, so she paid it no more mind.

The final thing she did was to order a medical team to go to the particular storage chamber. She did not know if it would help, but it never hurt to try. Of course, that was the time the captain ordered the bridge evacuated. Looking over the room, Eydis saw that it was very sensible. Half the consoles were damaged or dead. Wounded crewmembers were everywhere. This was no place to control a starship. She initialized the shutdown command on her console and on the other bridge consoles, then followed the others to the auxiliary control room.

~| Auxiliary control room |~

The Auxiliary control room resembled the bridge in many ways, but it was smaller, and more centered around the Captain’s chair. Which for the moment was occupied by the Executive officer. They had brought the ship back online, slowly taking control of each system, isolating any damaged system so it could be repaired. As of yet, they did not have full functionality, but much of the ship was now back under control. To think they had been ready to go out exploring, when a mere debris field could cause such damage. It was strange. The Tempest’s design was clearly more advanced than its predecessors, but it was clearly not flawless. Much could be improved upon.

“Lt. Commander Thomas. Shield emitters are now coming back online. Forward, top and rear shields fully operational, bottom shields are at 13%, port shields at 56% and starboard shields at 17%. Would it be too forward to suggest installing redundancy in the shield emitters if we get the chance? I do not relish the idea of taking this vessel into combat situations if the shields are this fragile. My tactical options are severely limited by it.” Astridh’s words were spoken in her familiar irish accent and style, with just a hint of Eydis’ coldly impersonal manner.

After finishing her coffee, Alexis' headset was pinged by the escort: "Cap'n, I have a small chunk grappled, bringing it to the barn." Nodding for herself, she instructed the fighter to dump it in one of the hangar racks for now and return to patrol. "Dr. Ishpetyr, the 302s recovered a piece of the debris we've just flown through, if your department wants to have a look at it. It'll be waiting for you in rack 3 in the hangar." she told the doctor before making her way across the ship to the med bay to check on the wounded crew. While it was awful to see any of them in such shape, she now had a strike team without it's leader.

Deciding to deal with that first, she went to the storage room to fetch what she would need and to her quarters to sign the appropriate paperwork before finally making her way to the briefing room. West waited outside and let Miller finish, satisfied with her choice. Entering the room, she walked up to the soldier. "Corporal Miller. While the condition of Sgt. Aldurren is regrettable, I can not leave a strike team without it's head. Effective immediately, I am promoting you to the rank of Sergeant. You are now in command of TS-1." she said, handing him the appropriate insignia. Just as she did so, she received a call that the bridge was repaired. "Get your team ready, you'll deploy as soon as we bring the transporters online. Now if you excuse me." she said and headed for the door. "XO, damage control reports we can move back to the bridge. Any of the crew giving you trouble?" she asked, heading for the command deck. when the crew arrived, She instructed Astridh to beam TS-1 down when they report ready.

Lt. Cmdr Thomas turned toward Astridh, considering her words. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous. No wonder Captain West hated sitting in this thing. He bloody well felt like Captain Kirk. He'd always hated that show. "I'll bring it up, but it's my understanding that these sheilds perform admirably against directed energy weapons." Captain West contacted him through the radio. He radioed back, "Thank you, Captain. They've all performed," he spared a glance at Logan's direction, "quite well. We'll be back upstairs in five minutes." Speaking to the crew again, he said, "All right, pack up. We're going back upstairs where we belong. You've got five minutes to be at your posts."

Creon thought about the Logan problem. Well, it wasn't a problem. Yet. He'd have to watch Logan closely. If Logan didn't adjust to being responsible for dozens of lives, then Creon would reccomend a visit to the ship's psychiatrist. If Logan still didn't adjust after that, well. They could find another pilot. It still wouldn't hurt to talk to him. Creon made a mental note to intercept Logan in the corridor before his next watch. A speech was forming in Creon's head.

"I don't know, and I don't care about what you're used to, but on this ship, your ship...."

~o~0~o~

Dr. Ishpetyr stared at the readouts he was getting from the core. Something was wrong. Not with the core itself, but with the interfacing and interpretation hardware that let Earth tech access it. The problem first made itself known in a small bug in the Asgard transportation sequence. It had to be something fairly obscure, however, as the other scientists had already triple checked the software for bugs. Again.

Meanwhile, Dr. Victoria Petroikya was going through the entire crystal matrix, one crystal at a time. Quite a few parts of the operation were flying past Dr. Ishpetyr's head, but he didn't need to know how to fix the core; he just needed to know how to put the right people in the right places with the right data. Which was one of the reasons he'd assigned Dr. Petroikya to the crystals.

She was, Abel admitted, quite attractive. A fact that he was exploiting. As she (competently, of course) pored of the the knee-height crystals, several of the other researchers (all unmarried, but of course, competent) were practically falling over themselves to impress her. Two of the researchers were currently trying to outclass each other with their knowledge of quantum computing, just loudly enough for Victoria to hear. He estimated that they'd figure out the bug in three hours or less. The whole situation was rather amusing, to be frank.

"Dr. Ishpetyr, the 302s recovered a piece of the debris we've just flown through, if your department wants to have a look at it. It'll be waiting for you in rack 3 in the hangar."

Interesting.

Abel paused at the doorway before he left. He'd had a thought. "Victoria - you're in charge. Do try to fix it before we have to beam up something important." He thumbed his radio. "Dr. Ishpetyr to Bishop. Meet me in the hangar bay, please."

====Tempest: Medical offices and labs====

Joseph, like every other member of the Tempest medical team, had neither a highly ceremonial boarding nor any memorial event that would mark his entrance into the ship’s metal insides. Save never being in such a behemoth, he had little else to do then settle his things into his own quarters and then situation himself to the only thing he knew best: work. He admitted it was a bit intimating at first for weeks before he was schedule to leave, his mind had wondered over what possible could require such secret. Well, he got his answer in the worse way when his eyes came over the ship after boarding.

At least his mind would’ve been occupied. Unlike some of the crew, down time was almost nonexistent for doctors as most patients might’ve scheduled appointment but rarely did anyone’s health ever follow them. Currently since the Tempest’s departure, the aged doctor had cooped himself up between his morgue and lab at almost endless shifts. Only brief pauses were made to eat, drink and sleep while he was filtering through personnel’s medical histories, his finger taped the mouse then clicked and dragged the little white icon to a specific file finally dropping it in. Over and over he had done this for so long he began to forget how much time had passed since he left Earth. And them.

His brown eyes suddenly closed under wrinkled lids, his fingers pulled away his reading glasses as they rubbed the budded ach away. Joseph slowly rotated his neck as he leaned back into his chair. The little bones creaked and cracked, made a slight shift from their fixed position until he relaxed, his way to let the sensation of relief settle over his weary bones. In the background was classical music played from the violin. The notes at first had a smooth, quick in the tempo only to change back into a slow whimsical pace. A well-practiced and magnificent note series seemed to drown the listener into a serene state. It was very clear the one manipulating the strings had raw talent, refined over years, and it was with pride Joseph sank into the melody. Mainly because the very talented composer behind the recording had been the man’s own son, Conner Sterling, that created such a sound. A parting gift that would remind Joseph of the responsibilities, his family and most of all, the problems he had left behind. The man rubbed his eyes a little harder. A faint hope he would rub away all the stress that sat behind them, his head held in his hands for bit longer.

Then all hell broke loose.

Joseph felt the ship shudder followed by low, dreadful rumble. It echoed through the ship’s hollows as if the damn thing had become ill or suffered. Suddenly the floor was jerked to the side and in addition, everything, including him and several other medical personnel were flung to the ground. He felt himself pressed into the floor while his body shifted again when the ship struck new debris. Papers scattered about, monitors fell from their desks then slammed into floor or soft head, and unsecured equipment had become rattled about, each followed by his colleges’ panicked screams. For a long, terrible moment, Joseph couldn’t tell where he was. If he was coming or going, his body tossed about like some unwanted toy before the hellish event seemed to have died down.

When he finally had the chance to become aware, the room was dowsed in red flashing lights and a deafening alarm rang out. Pain etched its presence in the old doctor’s head when it struck a desk edge in his fall, slicing the wrinkled head, followed by his arm. His eyes glanced down to the damage, outright ignored the warmth from his blood that seeped into his vision. The doctor’s arm was curled up by his side, pinned under a filing cabinet that had become dislodged and throbbed at each attempt he made to move it on its own. It didn’t take a Master’s degree in general medicine to know his limb wasn’t alright.

Less than a month on the job and already, Joseph thought venomously, he was his first medical emergency. Peachy… His mental rants had been broken by the need to move. Joseph had gritted his teeth and breath held, his free hand came about to immediately but cautiously removed the heavy object. Used what little strength he had, the metal seemed to groan at being pushed off. Once done, his face was reddened by the effort and grasped for deep, inhales to ease the pain needled up and down his arm. The arm had hadn’t been broke, the doctor’s first professional opinion, but it had been hurt badly. Likely it was just fractured.

Wasted little time, Joseph began to strip off his white coat then fold it into a makeshift sling. Using a combination of his teeth, good arm and much less extend, his other hand, the doctor worked to make a temporary and crude one. It had its flaws much to his distaste but the important notion was that kept his arm out of the way and fixed to one place. That way any movement would’ve jar it into worse damage then he had already created. It wasn’t the proper treatment for this injury but seeing his office in shambles and the fact some more fitting would’ve hindered him, the man had little options at the moment. He braced himself once more while his hand came behind him. After a few painfully slow movements, he was upon his feet and started to seek out any wounded or…to a far less desire, fatalities.

“Dr. Sterling…over here,” A female voice caught the older man’s attention as he limped, still sore, towards the younger doctor. Her body sprawl across the floor and collapsed where she had been tossed. His eyes narrowed upon her ankle, the flesh seemed slightly discolored. Joseph’s first impression was a sprain on sight yet he didn’t allow that to become his final diagnose. At least until he could fully examine it.

When he managed to hobble over to her, the doctor took a knee which caused his face to briefly winch in pain and gently reached out his good hand to feel the worrisome area. He had a surprised tenderness in his prods but his mind carefully noted any out jutted bones or unexplained bump against his fingers. Twice they ran up and down the spot, double checking it. From his brief examination, the man’s first snap judgment had been correct. The woman had only suffered a sprain ankle, one that in a few weeks’ time would be fit to move again, his mind felt her eyes shifted to his sling then back to him with slight worry.

“It’s just a injured arm, likely a radius fraction from what I can speculate but I won’t know for certain until I can scan it. Currently the head is a more troublesome matter.” Joseph’s cold reply came, casted his fellow colleague’s concern away before he returned to the task at hand, “We’ve got to get this shit cleaned quickly.”

“What?!? Dr. Sterling,” she began to reason, “there’s injured doctors and possibly fatalities around us. There’s-”

He cut off her excuses in midsentence. His voice blunt and cold, yet there was hard to argue reason in his next words when he finally managed to stand back up. “You realize this was possibly a ship wide event? Where do you think all the injured will be coming, Dr. Ross? If we’re not up and running, how many lives do you think will be lost due to…our excuses?”

Silence was her reply as another figure approached the pair, the Head of medical department, Dr. William Niven and a few years Joseph’s junior had rang his agreement alongside the man’s. He seemed to be in the best shape out of the three, his body lowered to help the younger doctor to her foot while Joseph up righted a chair for her to sit. “Dr. Sterling’s correct. I’ll organize the uninjured doctors and get this place to some working order. You, Dr. Ross and Sterling, are to assess the wounded and decide where they are sorted to. Hopefully there are no causalities or seriously injured.”

Joseph looked to object, only to have the department head cut him off. “Those are my orders Joseph. With that injured arm, you’re not going to be much help with anything more than assessing damage and shepherding victims into the ER. Trust my judgment, it’s for the best. Can’t have one of our best doctors crippled before he’s had a chance to save a few lives, can we?”

With nothing farther, Dr. Niven left to begin his duties, he fully expected his colleagues to do theirs. Already the injured had begun to pour into the medical bays signaled by their screams and pain, wounds from minor scratches and bruises to broken bones and worse, crowded quickly. The medical area had seemed the least hit area; the doctors only banged around had rushed to their duties while Joseph, Ross and other slightly less useful doctor (luckily few in numbers) started to direct the patients according to their critical level and start to recover what equipment they could. Despite a few colleagues’ sympathies Joseph flatly refused to rest when more patients seemed to flood in. His professional pride and more had gotten the best of him in that moment.

Episode 1: Lost in Sand.

The heat difference was one of the most annoying things about gate travel and the Asgard beaming technology. One moment he was in the nice regulated temperature of the ship and the next he was in the boiling heat of a desert standing on a rocky outcropping. Behind him was the ruined city and on front of him what had been detected as a lone structure in the sand, which is why he had chosen this beam sight. He moved over and took of his sunglasses slightly. "Holy Crap, and I thought we were having a bad day." Inside a sand dune, sticking out into the air was the hull of a ship. If what was visible it was far larger than the tempest, slightly curved and what appeared to be some form of an array on the front of the vessel. It was a mighty impressive design he had to admit, he didn't particularly like the idea of it though on the fact that shortly after they checked it out a science team would be all over it but whatever worked.

He turned to Neilson. "Neilson you take Thomas, Jones and Hobart and head toward the city. Check it out, keep in contact with the ship and I want check ins every hour. Radio anything you find back to me." Neilson saluted before turning around and walking away. "All right, rest of you. We're going to check out that thing, whatever it is." He walked forward and into the sun, out of the shade. "Wow, I'm glad I packed sunscreen. I knew this place was going to be hot but jeez." He turned to Araiadne/Idalia pointing his thumb at the ship. "So, you're our alien expert, you recognize this ship? It isn't what I've seen of the Goa'uld, Asgard or Ori and it certainly isn't Wraith. I'd rather know if we know what it is before I call it in. If it is a design we know about we can bring down a science team first, if not we have to check it out."

He took out a binocular and began looking at the ship in closer detail. 19 Was that the ships name? Class? Number? He hoped it wasn't the number of vessels the thing was huge, larger than anything he had seen or heard off. Equally the same size as a regular hive, as it probably managed to reach 2km in length, though there was really no way in telling until they went down there.

---

~Bob Bishop~

Bishop sighed as he got the call from Ishpetyr. "On my way." He then turned to his research team returning to his lab. "Work on the sensor package for the new recon F-302, see how much it will take to get it working without over extending from out budget. I'll be back later after we've had some time to look at debris." He passed down to the hanger showing his pass to the guard on duty, who nodded and let him through the door into the bay. Typically no-one except deck crew and pilots were allowed in but on occasions scientists could get passes, as could anyone else. Purely out of the sake of security anyway.

He walked over to Dr.Ishpetyr who was standing beside a chunk of metal, burn and scorch marks all over it with no discernible writings. "Well Doctor. This looks like we'll learn a lot from it. I have a PhD in studying pieces of burnt metal you know..." He chuckled slightly, however with the number of Doctorates he had done he was essentially multi-purpose on the ship. While his primary field was most things physics related he had dabbled slightly in the areas of biology and chemistry.

Ariadne had never been beamed by Asgard technology before. She had experienced the Stargate and ring transporters, but never Asgard beaming. She was quite excited. So was Idalia. It felt good to be so much in agreeance. The last day or so had seen them disagreeing quite a lot more than usual, and it made for an unpleasant experience. Ariadne knew it was largely her own fault, she wasn’t adjusting to the Tau’ri as easily as she should have been. Her ruminations were cut short however, as she was enveloped in white light and her molecules were disassembled.

She did not really feel anything again until she was rematerialised, a remarkably quick process, in a much hotter, sandier environment. She was used to this sort of environment to some extent. Idalia, on the other hand, was less so. Sheyet was hotter than earth, but this heat was on the top end of comfort and with the heavy clothes, including the Tau’ri vest, it would probably become unpleasant soon. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, holding her Staff weapon in her other hand. The view, at least, was quite impressive.

A city behind them and a gigantic ship extending at an awkward angle from the sand. It was far too big for any Goa’uld ship she’d seen. Miller, who was now the Strike Team leader after the disastrous flight through the debris field, was looking at the monstrous edifice with binoculars. He lowered the viewing device and turned to her to ask her what it was. She looked at it for a moment longer before replying. “I have never seen any ship of such a profile. I do not know who built or where it is from. I am sorry.” She was quite intrigued by the ship. Ruined cities were all over the galaxy, but there were few ships of such size. Only the Goa’ulds most powerful vessels or the Ori’s motherships were even close in size.

“We should explore it. Few species have the capability to build such large star-faring vessels. If the race that built this vessel still exists, we should make sure they are not our enemies. I do admit I was expecting Ancient structures though, not… these. Why would there be an Ancient repository and a Stargate here? And one that does not connect to the rest of the world at that. It does not make sense.”

“Don’t worry, I had every intention of checking it out. I simply was making sure that we had no idea what it was. If we had some idea on who had built it then we could just call down a science team… -” He was distracted by a beeping and he took a look at this small tablet computer. Smaller than those used by Atlantis personnel they were only really used to access the ships sensors to get a lay of the land. A small blue circle had appeared within the ship. “- It also appears to of began transmitting some kind of continuous signal.” He waved them forward. “We’ll have to approach with caution-” He unclipped the tablet while walking and handed it back to the Tok’ra. “You’re a lot smarter than I am, that mean anything to you? It means sweet eff-all to me.”

Ariadne was still unfamiliar with Tau’ri slang, but by his tone, it sounded like Miller didn’t know anything about the applications or possibilities of these things. That didn’t bother her though. He was making good use of his resources rather than arrogantly assuming he could do everything. She looked at the small screen that relayed the Tempests sensor readout. Another thing she wasn’t entirely familiar with, but it wasn’t all that complicated. The signal was constant. Ordinarily, that might mean all manner of things, but given the derelict state of the ship, possibilities were narrowed considerably. “It is likely some kind of locator beacon. Possibly a distress beacon, given the state of the ship.” She handed the device back to him then before adding “And really Sergeant, when have you ever known the Tok’ra to be anything but cautious?”[I]

“Well in all honesty Ma’am I can’t answer that. You’re my first Alien that hasn’t tried to suck the life out of me out of their [i]hand. Also as I said earlier, call me Miller. He placed the small tablet back within his vest. “There should be an entry way down there-” He pointed at the ship and the centre of where it was crashed. “-I’d rather not make our own entrance with some explosives purely because we don’t know how the ship will re-act or if there is anyone aboard.” He began leading them, through the sun, towards the ship. “Also, as to why the structures or ship aren’t ancient well I can’t tell you that Ma’am. Though I can take a gander at it. The Ancients wouldn’t want just anyone to find their repository and you may not know where a stargate is but it isn’t that hard to find a planet. These people may of even built their civilization not even knowing the repository existed, maybe the Ancients built it here to hide it where people wouldn’t look. I suppose that is one for the scientists to decide, and a research team if they can find the gate and beam it to the surface.”

What Miller was saying all made sense to her, it was a possibility. Just not what she’d expected. “I always imagined the Ancients would not need such deceit. However, I believe you know more about that subject than I Miller. You will have to tell us about your experiences in the Pegasus galaxy in the future. We would quite enjoy the story. Given that they have not tried to contact us yet, I doubt there is anyone still alive on that ship. Unless they believe us to be enemies. But such speculation wastes time. I imagine this heat is worse for you than me. Perhaps we should get moving?”

“It does waste time, also we can multitask as we have been however in the heat talking wouldn’t be beneficial despite our training.” He waved them onwards as he activated his radio. “Tempest, this is Corp- Sergeant Miller. We’ve discovered what looks like a derelict of an Alien vessel that began transmit what we believe to be a distress call. I am taking my team to check it out, Neilson and his team are heading off to inspect the city. As the initial photographers predicted the buildings and the ship aren’t of Ancient design, the entire vessel is bigger than most we’ve seen and again is an unknown design. I’ll keep you apprised. Miller, out.”

"Roger that TS-1 see if you can shut that thing off. I am not thrilled at the idea of more of it's live colleagues showing up to see what the fuss is about. Tempest out." Captain acknowledged and shut the link down. "Well that system works as well." she muttered, checking the time. Damage control crews were swarming over the ship and patching up whatever they could. The science department still didn't report anything on the recovered wreckage, and Alexis knew how snappy they could get when pushed, so she gave them more time. Medical crews still had their hands full, but that was to be expected. Getting up, she walked to her XO: "All seems to be in check here except people sitting on their behinds until TS-1 reports anything. Do you feel now might be a good time to run a few drills? Nothing unannounced or simulated fires, not after THAT. But perhaps just get a stopwatch and get them to lower their reaction times. I don't want anyone anywhere near windows next time there is a risk of a hull breach." Alexis explained her intentions. The crew had still a long way to go before she'd let them slack off.

Having other things to do, she left Creon to make the decision himself. "What's the status on the planet's gate? are we getting the beacon yet? I'd say a big honking spacewreck is something SGC might want to look at." she said to the TO, not wanting to waste any time.

It had been six months since Julia had been in Ottawa. Considering it was her first time to the city she had not seen much of it other then the view out of her window in the barracks and what she saw on her way from the airport.

A lot has changed for Julia in the last 6 months. She has learned a fair bit on various matters and one of the ones that peeked her interest the most was the reason why she needed to learn Latin during her Bachelors. It was the fact that a race of Ancients had spoken a language that was quite similar to it a few millennia ago. After having learned their alphabet Julia was presented with various texts and documents to translate to help her master the Ancient Language.

Most of the texts she was presented were on the subject of Stargate research gathered from the Asguard core. She was also presented a fair amount of research regarding the Replicators networking. She learned a fair bit about networking infrastructure and she was already planning on applying what she learned to her master's thesis when she is free to go back to the regular world.

Other then reading on various networks Julia's schedule comprised of quick breakfast then one hour of physical training. Then breakfast then she has a lecture varying from wormhole physics to xenobiology. Her lunch follows the lecture. Lunch is served at the cafeteria and like any public cafeteria it serves slop. After her lunch Julia has another lecture more on the regular subjects such as more abstract mathematics and linguistics. Julia then receives some more physical training and she is introduced to military procedures. Afterward she eats once more then goes to bed.

Over the weeks her schedule got laxer and laxer yet it was expected of her to continue her own education. Following her interests she deepened her understanding into the Stargate infrastructure.

Has the anniversary of her six month on base neared, Julia was approached by her supervisor Major John Stevens in one of many the hallways of the Barracks.

"Hello miss Delaurieux, could you walk with me please," asked the Major.

Not really having much choice in the matter Julia did as was asked from her.

"Your time on this base is nearing it's end Julia. You will be moved soon to Cheyenne Mountain where you will be joining the H.M.S. Tempest. You do know what the Tempest is don't you?"

"Yes Sir, it is a British Research Vessel classed as EX-305. I expect you would like me to do some research while I am there," answered the girl.

"Not only that we expect you to keep us informed on what is happening on board we also expect you to get some hands on experience while you are on board. Your standing orders are to research the stargate infrastructure and to try to isolate and comprehend the addressing code. We are putting you on the vessel because you will hopefully have access to a gate that it updating its address quite regularly," continuing Major Stevens as the two of them rounded a corner "Tomorrow you will be receiving a British passport. Fortunately it was easy enough for us to procure you one because you are eligible for one as it is however we needed to pull a few strings to get it so please be respectful. The reason you need it is because the British have restricted most positions from non British."

"You will pack your bags because you will be taking the first flight tomorrow morning for Colorado," passing her an envelope the Major continued "These are your orders and you need to present them to the Captain as soon as you have boarded," following that phrase the Major turned into his office leaving Julia in the hallway.

After her meeting she returned to her bedroom, packed and slept the next day was going to be a long one. In the morning she got up and noticed a slip of paper on her bed side table on it was written:

"Your helicopter leaves at 8:00 don't be late." It was signed by the Major. Julia mentally berated herself because now she only had thirty minutes because she forgot to set an alarm and now she was going to need to skip breakfast. Running to the landing pad Julia found herself arriving just as the rotors on the helicopter started rotating. Jumping into the chopper she found herself beside Major John Stevens.

"Will you be joining me on the Tempest Sir?" asked Julia when she regained her breath.
"Unfortunately no, I am just here to mention that I will be your handler during your trip and if you have any questions or concerns about anything you get a hold of me also all your orders are going to come through me." As he said this he pulled out a subspace communicator and passed it to her. "I expect you to make regular reports" with that he jumped out of the helicopter and it lifted off.

It took her to Toronto airport and from there she transferred onto a private jet that took her to the Peterson Air Force base where she was guided to a truck that brought her to Cheyenne Mountain.

When she arrived she was escorted down to the briefing room where she was met by Colonel Mitchell: "You will be sent out with the next group going out to Tempest. The ship met some trouble after its first jump and it appeared in the middle of a debris field. Unfortunately people got hurt and killed so we asked for you to be brought over early. We were waiting for you so you will be leaving right away once SG-13 clears out of the Gate Room. I hope you are ready, it is quite a journey."

"I hope so too sir. Might I ask what was the debris sir?" responded Julia.

"You would have learned it anyway. We are not sure what it is yet however it is nothing we have encountered before," looking out of the briefing room window he kept talking "It looks like they have emptied the room I will meet you downstairs."

An airman beckoned for Julia to follow and led her down into the gate room as she entered she saw the gate for the first time in person. It was already spinning on itself and the first chevron had already been locked in. At that moment a hand full of other people left the control room above and joined her in the gate room. It was a medley of scientist escorted four air men and a group of paramedics carrying stretchers. One of the scientist stepped out from between the soldiers.

"Look who finally decided to show up, the youngling. I am Dr Jacob Moore by the way," He offered her his hand.

Grabbing the proffered hand she shook it stiffly following the sarcastic welcome.

"Ooh is the tinsy winsy little gurl afraid of a little old man?"

Over the intercom Col. Mitchel intervened: "Cut it Moore, she is going onto Tempest to learn just like you." Scolded Moore returned to the group of scientist and conferred with his peers.

As he stepped away the gate completed its dialing sequence. With a great "Kawoosh" the wormhole stabilized creating a link between the SGC and the H.M.S. Tempest. Julia was filled with awe at the sight of the blue ripples spreading across the surface of the event horizon and she wondered about what adventures awaited her on the other side.

Still over the intercom Julia heard Col. Mitchel talking to the tempest:
"Hello H.M.S Tempest, this is the SGC we have got some extra crew here to alleviate the losses you have suffered as well as people ready to take the dead and critically injured away they are asking permission to board the ship." At that point Julia heard the tapping of a keyboard being picked up over the microphone as the iris code was sent to the Tempest.

After a few seconds the go ahead came from the control room and the paramedics stepped through the gate followed by the air men and finally the other researchers. Julia was the last one to step through the gate and the last thought she had before she was demolecularized was if it tickled.

The TS-1 ready process had been interrupted by reversion to realspace and subsequent collisions with the debris afloat in the field. Milton had been getting into his gear, black ACU style uniform. It was pretty similar to the fatigues when he'd been in echange with the US Air Force. He'd picked up his mission kit, as well as his translator's kit. It seemed they weren't using him as a lead linguist at least for the moment. That might be subject to change at any time, so he needed to have his tablet and translation software ready to roll. He'd had several manuals piled into his gear as well, small but sufficient to help him stay concurrent and fresh. He didn't have much problem reactivating old languages, but he knew he was going to be calling on several of them frequently for this tour.

The tablet which was a glorified PDA was more advanced than the gear he'd used with the teams out of Cheyenne, and had built in recording suites and voice analyzers. He could use it as a com-link and a portable lie detector. A couple of other things that were useful, like line tracers, and a few simple tools, sunglasses, radio, compass, pace counter/Ranger beads, binoculars, anda few other things were part of his loadout. He had a small survival kit too, geared for desert, which gave him some paracord, a good fixed blade knife, ferro rod, and a military canvas tarp, canteen, sunscreen, salt tabs. Part of the standard loadout was at least one MRE. Meals Rejected by Everyone weren't Milton's favorite thing, but it beat starving.

Knowing they would be beaming down to a desert world, he slathered on sunscreen, and changed from the usual baseball style cap to a wide-brimmed boonie hat with vent holes. The idea of going to a sweltering environment wasn't ideal, and he didn't relish it, but the job was the job. After a moment's consideration he added a black shemagh which could protect face and neck, provide more shade and cooling, and had a ton of other uses. Most of everything disappeared into his tactical rig. For weapons he snagged a couple of smoke grenades, a concussion grenade, and a fragmentation grenade. A suppressed FN P90 with holo sight was issued to him with two extra magazines. Typically he preferred a different weapon, usually the H&K MP-7 developed for LAPD S.W.A.T.. It was even smaller than the P-90, and usesd a smaller round that was designed more for penetrating armor. The P-90 was a sweet weapon system though, and it worked well. He was fully rated with it, and could put rounds on target all day. He simply had his own likes. At least by keeping standard weapons compliments, they could share munitions.

With the impacts to the Tempest tossing people about, causing power surges and secondary structural damage, and secondary internal explosions, he'd been lucky to avoid injury, except for a couple bumps and bruises. He'd been spending his time helping where he could to repair systems. He was no super-tech, but he knew how to wire electronics, and he could take direction. When he was informed it was time to return to mission, he had cleaned his hand soff and headed back.

It wasn't hard to see some of the nervousness and excitement on the faces of those around him. He could also tell that their Tok'ra advisor was worn down and a little frazzled around the edges. By what he'd heard being passed around the ship, she'd probably saved a number of lives up on the bridge with her healing device. He was thankful for that. Still, his own thoughts were more directed to the operation ahead.

Materializing on the planet's surface, he held onto the cooler air in his lungs for as long as he could then sighed and took his first breath of hot, dry air. He moved with the rest of the team, sweeping his own gaze out behind his sunglasses. The slight chill that had been clinging to his skin was rapidly being eaten away by the blazing heat. The shade of his hat and the sunglasses made adjusting to the light no problem. When the Sergeant ordered the second element out to the city he took a moment to speak up as they moved toward the wreck. “Sergeant, do we know what the rotational cycle of this planet is,” he asked. That would determine day/night cycles and the last thing they needed was to be out on open desert when nightfall came. It would probably be bitter cold in the city too, but the buildings would radiate heat longer. The derelict they were making their way to would probably be thermally insulated... but that meant it could be an oven, holding the heat in from days of glaring sun, and never quite venting all of it at night... then building up more the next day, and not quite cooling as much as the previous night, until it was worse than a sauna at night and a solar oven during the day.

At least hydration wasn't an immediate concern, or starvation

The heat was a pain, that was for sure, but he put the discomfort out of his mind as he sub-vocally murmured an old marching cadence to himself. Almost immediately his discomfort left his mind and rote rhythm and routine took over, his body starting to operate with machine-like determination. The body follows the mind, always.

One bead. One hundred meters. The ranger beads were on a piece of paracord, short, with knotted ends, with plastic beads in olive drab. It had been folded over and knotted with a loop so that it hung from another loop of paracord from one of his zippers. Easy access. One side had four beads, the other had nine. When all nine were expended, he would have walked a kilometer. When the four beads were ticked down to the end knots of the string, that would make five kilometers. It was a decent way of dead reckoning navigation. It was an old habit from the SAS days, a reflex and it had saved his bacon more than once, as well as his buddies. He supposed he could be a cocky sod about it but that would get him nowhere.

Another hundred meters ticked by, and by now he was positively broiling in his gear, but he couldn't afford to get rid of any of it. Still, it mattered little. “Sergeant... Sir, are we still getting that locator beacon from the derelict? If I can get a hand I might be able to get a lead on deciphering whether it's computer code or something more like an actual language. Might give us more of a heads-up on what we're walking into.”