Stargate: Rise of Humanity IC [M]

[Imperial1917]

Thurman watched as the members of SG-7 absorbed what they had just heard. Their reactions were... interesting.

When she had been handed her new command, the major took pains to assess what would need to be covered in the initial briefing and in the materials they would be given. Secrecy was the byword of the Stargate Program, even for those within its operation. There were dozens of personnel that lived in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex day in and out without ever having set eyes on the Stargate or seen one of the artifacts brought back by the SG teams. This had never necessarily been her concern when she was a part of the garrison; everyone on base was qualified to hear rumors, even if facts were withheld, meaning that mess room talk was what it always was. It was access that made the difference.

Still, it had surprised her when she reviewed Ambrose's clearance and realized that the woman had not even seen the Stargate yet. What, she wondered at the time, did the doctor make of the strange and horrifying wounds of her patients, not knowing what a staff weapon could do to a person? At least she didn't handle the previous SG-7 directly. That was a small mercy. For her.

Mari and Chapman, the latter of which she noted stepped in late, seemed of a mind, eyeing their comrades. They said nothing, but there was an undeniable air of anticipation from both, a yearning for adventure. Not explorers, perhaps, but the best that could be mustered probably. Not a great selection, but then there was Fritz who... smiled. That one would need watching.

Excuse me Major, but what happened to the parties responsible for the deaths of our predecessors?

Shifting her eyes to the ensign, she replied, "She, though as you will learn such a term is relative in the case of Goa'uld, is called Nirrti and is a System Lord of the Goa'uld that is still at large. Her holdings are smaller than her rivals, but she still has considerable powers and capabilities." Pausing, Thurman considered how much more to tell them before deciding that they should know if anyone. "SG-1 recovered a child named Cassandra from Hanka, the world where Nirrti had deployed her bioweapon, making her the sole survivor. Why this was became apparent when large amounts of Naquahdah were discovered in her bloodstream. Nirrti had turned her into a living bomb with the intention of destroying this facility and putting an end to the Stargate Program."

"Plans within plans," took up the general, "That is what we are up against: enemies who wouldn't blink at wiping out hundreds or thousands just to get a point across. But that is not half of it. There are a lot of others out there too, folk who need our help; human populations under the boot of the Goa'uld and others we aren't even clear what they are yet. You probably guessed it already, but this is not your typical assignment: You will be not just soldiers, but scientists and ambassadors. I won't lie to you folks: There are those higher up who only grudgingly accept that you will be making a lot of decisions with more autonomy than perhaps anyone before you." He glanced at the major before looking back to the gathered members of SG-7. "And you will have to make the right decision when the time comes."

"As the major has already said, you will be provided more information in the coming days, but if you have any immediate questions, now is the time."

[Delta8O8]

Ilari took his seat a second or two after everyone else having gathered his passed out papers from earlier and putting them away into his binder for later submission to the General. Now was not a good time for that.
As with everyone else his attention was on the General, though he did glance at the Major. He'd seen the Generals assistant so who was this?

When the shutters rose he had to spin around in his office chair to see what was being revealed. But when he saw it he slowly stood up, eyes wide, and mouth gaped open in surprise. His immediate surprise was suddenly over come with concern as his gaze dropped from the ring to the Gate Room Security down below who had set up an overkill version of a Firing Squad a few feet away from the beginning of the ramp. Something was happening, and it was going to be bad if they had that much firepower set up to deal with whatever the hell that ring was. He had the urge to request permission to join the Men and Women down there. If they needed him down there the order would be given to do so.
And the General was not stupid. The Staff Sergeant could tell that much just from meeting the man...and also from some of the very brief casual talks he would have with Base Commanders. Former Airmen who had served with the General in their younger years.

The Majors voice brought him back into the room, and he took his seat once again, spinning back around to face the table and therefore the briefing.
He stayed quiet, watched, and listened. There were two segments of the briefing that worried him a bit.
When asked for questions Staff Sergeant Vasili Ilari stood up to the position of attention, his chair sliding back from his sudden motion and hitting the wall below the Observation Window. "Sir." He began at the same time of his action. Again, being the first to speak to the Commanding Officer of the room. "Begging your pardon sir, but you said earlier that each team would consist of members with a wide range of capabilities and a high level of adaptability. And that the Garrison would step in with Heavy Support." He glanced around at the other people at the table and wondered what they were all specialized in. "Sir, you have my records. I started in the Army, before enlisting to the Air Force. I'm a Rifleman whether I'm on the ground or in the sky. What I mean to ask is, what is my specialized role with the Team if the Garrison exists to provide the Heavy Support? As far as I'm concerned, in the field, Killing and Destroying is all I know." With the ending of his words, it dawned on him that maybe he wasn't actually part of the Team. Perhaps most of the attendees here were SG7 and he was Garrison, it was just easier to brief them all in one sitting. Nevertheless he waited for an answer, keeping his face as straight as possible despite the fact that he was staring at another pretty lady in the room.
Chapman. He was staring at a spot on the wall which just happened to be right behind Chief Master Sergeant Maisie Chapman's head.

[Dnafein]

Stanley’s eyebrow twitched at the unusually narcissistic question being asked so publicly. He raised an arm. “I think I can answer that if I may?” He asked the higher ranking officers present, waiting until either the general or major indicated he should continue.

“The lieutenant, chief master sergeant,” Tge ensign motioned to Popertue and Chapman, “Tech sergeant, staff sergeant, and myself will have security duty. The Major plays diplomat; Doc is medical and possibly biological sciences; I've got an engineering degree so it will be me who gets to take stuff apart to see how it works and by process of elimination” Rodgers turned to Fitz. “Communications is my guess.”

The ensign shrugged, he was a fan of the Original Series of Star Trek and recognized the majority of the main crew. “Apologies to anyone whose rating I got wrong. Not that security detail is bad, after all they have the important job of getting us all home alive."

“I think the important question is…” The Ensign looked around the briefing room. “Where are we going and when do we leave? I guess that's two questions.”

[Nope]

Sarah sat quietly as an exchange took place before her. Since there had been no formal introductions, she felt herself prickle at the awkwardness of the room. Before, when she had been expected to work an away mission, she'd been given at least a day with the staff of which she would be a part. The team had gone through briefings, expectations, and introductions before even boarding the plane. More of than not, it was a week or more of prep. She'd brush up on language and custom. She would have been handed profiles on the diplomats they would all be meeting with.
But how could that happen now? When they would be thrust unbeknownst into a new world?
They werent SG-1, surely they werent expected to wing it completely.

Some dude started handing out titles, his eyes swung toward her and he endowed her with her very own. How special. Fritz didnt respond except for a carefully concocted expression of amusement. She needed more time to suss this crew out. So far, the first impressions were not ones she would classify as promising.
The same guy then asked about departure, which was indeed a question on her mind.
Sarah shifted in her seat, and turned her eyes back to the General.
Somewhere among her blouse, her bra strap had become twisted, and she felt its maliciousness digging into her shoulder. She resisted the urge to fix it.
Sarah recalled the trip to Japan in which she had sat through the whole thing with a cold, suppressing coughs until she just about choked, and unable to blow her nose, lest she be found impolite by custom. So, head tipped slightly backward, she'd endured the six hour discussion, with the wrath of blooming cherry blossoms draining down her throat.
Suffice to say, the once favored sashimi was not a welcome texture by the end of the trip.

That day felt like this day. Except she isnt drunk on cold medicine and hoping the bathrooms are not bugged so she can vomit in peace.

[Imperial1917]

Thurman fixed a beady eye on the mouthy soldier. "We'll find a use for you, be assured," she said, her tone decidedly neutral, but nonetheless cool. "In the meantime..."

"What the major means to say is that everyone here was chosen for this assignment with a good reason." put in the general smoothly, holding up his hands to stall any more comments. He looked over the gathered team, his eyes resting on Ilari for a noticeably longer fraction of a moment before continuing, "Rest assured that there were plenty of candidates and for one reason or another this was what the SGC determined was the optimum selection. We have every confidence that you all will perform admirably when the time comes and adapt where necessary." He looked over to the major, who nodded back.

"Since Ensign Stanley has been good enough to bring up the matter, I will give you some details on our first mission." said Thurman, taking up the narrative. "Under optimum circumstances we would be able to give you at least two weeks to review information before heading out. However, given the escalation of the conflict with the Goa'uld, it is necessary for us to put all available assets into the field as soon as possible." She looked each of them in the eye. "This means learning on the move with less preparation than we would prefer."

"After a review of Goa'uld strategy, it has been decided that an exploratory mission to the world of P39C is in order. The planet is the third planet in the P39 system, hence the C. Remote surveys of the world using rovers have determined that it is both hospitable and potentially inhabited; the air is breathable and the immediate area around the Stargate is densely forested with a thick fog that has yet to dissipate since observation began a week ago. There appears to be no Goa'uld presence on the world in spite of signs of abundant resources and close proximity to what we know to be Goa'uld-controlled territory. We need to better understand why this is, whether it is because of the presence of a group actively resisting the Goa'uld or advanced technology or both."

"As this is an exploratory mission to a newly discovered world, we need to go prepared for a variety of possible encounters. While it is unlikely we will be moving any considerable distance from the Stargate given the terrain and the fact that we will be moving on foot, it should be assumed that the mission profile may change and the operation extended. Pack accordingly." She turned her eyes to Ilari. "And as we may find ourselves beyond effective support with the potential for a Goa'uld response, we will need crowd control capabilities or anti-air countermeasures in the event that they deploy their gliders."

"That's everything we have for you for now, folks." Picked up Hammond. "Unless you have any other questions, you are dismissed to review the information that we have given you and get your equipment together. Gather in the deployment bay at 1500 hours: that is about the crack of dawn on P39C."

[bluemoon]

Ambri nodded as Hammond dismissed them, picking up her folder and grabbing her cup of water and disposing of it in the waste bin. The tension in the room still hung heavy and she glanced quickly at the other members as she made her way over to the General. This was going to be an interesting group...as long as they managed to keep their angst to themselves.

"Thank you sir...and ma'am," she said, extending her gratitude to the major as well. "The briefing was most informative and I look forward to the upcoming mission." She nodded again, then took her leave, aware that she only had a few hours before she had to be ready to roll. "Three o'clock," she said softly to herself, unable to stem the old habit of converting the time into civilian terms. She shook her head and smiled to herself, a few hours of sleep was better than nothing...and she could follow it up with a few circuits around the track, a tall cup of coffee, and a hearty lunch. It sounded like a good plan.

A few minutes later and she was at her room. She sat on her bed and looked through the meeting's file quickly, promising herself she would binge read it again later. Stripping out of her wrinkled and soiled uniform, she paused on the way to her bed and looked at herself in the mirror, lightly fingering the knotted scar tissue on her right shoulder. The injury had been healed only a few months before she arrived at the base and it was one of her two injuries of note, this one acquired while in Iraq. On patrol, she and her teammates had been attacked by insurgents, bullets piercing through the vehicle before they even knew they were being attacked. She had been one of the first ones hit, her medical badge like a beacon to the enemy. There had been no pain at first, just the feeling of being punched in the shoulder and knocked back. The bullet had entered and exited, ripping through muscle tissue, and embedding itself in the seat's backing. Now, it was an ugly scar that reminded her daily of the dangers presented at every turn. She sighed softly, thinking the upcoming mission would be her most dangerous yet. And with that thought to accompany her, she slipped under the cool sheets of her bed and struggled to fall into a fitful sleep.

[Nope]

Sarah snapped the documents closed. The others were in various forms of dress, and she knew her strict adherence to uniform made her come off as a know-it-all, or goody-two-shoes.
Who comes up with these things? Goody two shoes? As if having two shoes was a high standard. When has having only one shoe been considered a norm? She thought. Would someone with only one shoe choose to only wear the one? Which foot would they put it on? Would they take turns, stopping here and there to put the shoe on the other foot. Then she chuckled softly to herself. If the shoe was on the other foot... Maybe all the dumb sayings are intertwined.
She made a mental note to check it out later, hoping that a billion feet below the surface, there was some semblance of decent internet for fact checking. Or at least a library with a good set of Encyclopedias.

She was about to ask one of her fellow crew members but hesitated. Asking for directions to the library was almost as bad as showing up formal to an informal gathering.
Sarah remembered the red head from middle school, with her spattering of freckles and braces. She remembered the way the metal had caught the light as her lips had formed the words, I hate you.
Fritz had been taken aback by the sudden admission. She'd always seen herself as a fountain of knowledge, available to anyone who needed a sip. Not as some snotty, know-it-all. She HAD raised her hand at every question- well not EVERY question, even if she knew it. And it wasnt her fault that no one else knew the material or cared too.

I hate you. The girl had said, and her eyes were true. Not hate in the way of a jealous hormone driven middle schooler hates. Actual deep down, burning hate. Youre not better than me, even though you act like it. I hate you.
Sarah had just stared, dumbfounded and confused. She had only been trying to offer advice on the assignment. She didnt intend-

And now she found herself staring across the table, in her reverie, not really looking at the person across from her although to them, it might have seemed so.
She blinked, shook her head, and gathered up her files.
The first thing she was going to do was change.

She nodded respectfully toward the General and Major and slipped from the room without looking anyone in the face. She felt a sudden depth wash over her. Up until this point, she had been excited, not she was coming to terms with the anxiety that everyone will hate her just as much as Gretchen had.
On tactic and diplomacy trips, she'd been hailed by the majority of her fellow feds as somewhat of a whiz kid, held in some sort of esteem and respect, even by the old white ones in the red ties.
But now, where did she fit into this?
Everyone had been almost at each other's throats when she'd first entered the room, and the whole team seemed thrown together like a bad scrapbook. It was feeling like middle school again.
I hate you.

Sarah felt a familiar tightening in her chest. She swallowed, but it only clenched tighter. She felt her throat closing in on itself, the air trapped at the entrance like a collapsed mine shaft.
Hugging the documents to her chest, she skirted around the people in the hall and after a few mixed up turns that only complicated the dots flashing in her site, she found what would serve as her quarters and collapsed onto the bed.

Her olive drab duffel had been neatly lain across the foot. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and thrust a hand inside up to the elbow. Her fingers moved through clothing and underthings to the matted fur crushed in between a set of books. Wrenching it free, she pulled the old stuffed sheep from the bag and held it tightly to her nose, breathing in the decades of scent.
It still had the lingering odor of the incense burned in the embassy in Iraq, where she had stayed most recently.
She felt the tightness in her chest retreating.

Sarah stood and began removed her clothing. She gently hung her formals on the provided hangers, zipping the jacket neatly into a garment bag. Then she redressed in the provided BDUs and laced the boots tightly. She wished she had a bandanna or a gold chain, like MR. T and some black face paint for those under eye streaks that people in the movies always use to mean business.
Instead, she set an alarm, curled up on her bed, tucked the sheep under her chin and flipped the folder back open. Knowledge beat fear.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs, forcing them to open clearly.
She'd hid her panic attacks from the government for many years out of fear of losing her position and reputation. She'd found ways of coping without medication.
To fight it now, she just had to not care.
And go through a ring of blue into the unknown somewhere in the farthest, darkest reaches of space.