Walter Reed National Military Medical Center
Bethesda, Maryland
Milky Way
Formerly known as Bethesda Naval Hospital, the Walter Reed campus represented the largest military healthcare complex on Earth. Soldiers and sailors, Senators and Presidents; this complex served the medical needs of many facets of the federal government within Washington, DC. Not located on a closed military installation, the large hospital was accustomed to a media presence on the sprawling grounds. Today was no different, with journalists gathered outside the main entrance.
Pulling up the drive, past news vans and other vehicles, two black colored Chevrolet Suburban's sporting darkly tinted windows came to a stop. As the two vehicles came to a stop, security personnel stepped from the now open rear doors of the lead vehicle. One of these men stepped to the rear passenger door of the second Suburban, opening the door. From this now open door, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Jack O'Neill stepped out. Resplendent in his blue full dress uniform, O'Neill put his officer's uniform hat on.
Security personnel leading the way, O'Neill and his entourage briskly walked towards the facility entrance. Seeing the General's arrival, and knowing his connection to Colonel John Sheppard, journalists and camera crews surged towards O'Neill. This sight did little to please O'Neill, who held the media in lower regards than the average American. Light bulbs flashed as cameramen and women photographed O'Neill. Television news crews aimed their video cameras at O'Neill, while reporters pointed their microphones towards the Chairman.
Thankfully for O'Neill, the security personnel brushed much of the media circus out of their charges path. Noise levels climbed to a dull roar, as questions were hurled at O'Neill. To many of these inquiries, O'Neill simply gave a stern look meant to convey his impatience with those who asked questions deemed unworthy of answering. To several of these entreaties, Jack stated 'no comment', which the media simply refused to accept. Before the media circus could grow wilder than it already was, the front doors looming in the General's path opened, with several young Marines putting themselves bodily between the reporters and General O'Neill.
Stepping through the entrance, quiet and air conditioned cool prevailed. Thank God for the Marines! Seeing O'Neill, well aware of just who he was, security quickly whisked the General and his security team past. Stepping into one of the several elevators, Jack gathered his thoughts while elevator music played softly in the background. Overall, this mess was the last one Jack needed. Sadly, events have a way of playing out when and where they chose. Regardless of the timing, a tense situation was what Jack found sitting in his lap.
As Jack mulled over the situation at hand, the elevator doors opened with a chime. Stepping out of the elevator, Jack and his security detail turned right, and continued down a long hallway. The sterile environment of a hospital never had been one O'Neill enjoyed, or found particularly comforting. Making their way past a nursing station, the entourage came upon the waiting room for this section of the hospital floor. Standing in the waiting area was the very last person Jack wished to see today. The man standing there, in his exquisitely tailored suit, cavalierly approached the General.
"You refused to return calls from my office. We need to talk, and talk now General O'Neill." Senator Carl Strom stated, annoyance dripping from his tone.
"I was not aware I answered directly to your office Senator. What brings you here?" O'Neill asked innocently.
"Do not try to be clever or coy! You know exactly why I am here. My question is what you intend to do about it?" Strom demanded.
"That determination has yet to be reached, but when it is, you will be the first to know." O'Neill replied.
"I refuse to accept that answer General. Instead, I will tell you what will happen. You will immediately prefer charges against Colonel Sheppard, and refer those charges to a General Courts Martial. Am I making myself clear General?" Strom asked menacingly.
"The last time I checked Senator, you are not a member of Colonel Sheppard's chain of command, or my own. I will take your requests under advisement." Jack replied.
"That will not do in this case. The public will demand action. You can either bring Colonel Sheppard up on charges, or I will be forced to open a public enquiry into questionable activities in military oversight of the gate program, and those associated with it." Strom threatened.
"Will you also bring questionable IOA decisions into this enquiry of yours? You really should look into the billions of dollars of IOA funds that went missing when those in charge of that organization found themselves suddenly unemployed. So how is it you financed your campaign for your Senate seat exactly?" Jack asked in challenge.
"You threaten me? How dare you General! Secretary of Defense Landry will hear of this. I promise you that." Strom hissed.
"He probably has a few zingers of his own for you. Feel free to call him though. Before you get it in your head that you will rain fire and brimstone down on me, remember that I have a few more political IOU's in this town than you. Have a wonderful day Senator." Jack said with a smile, before continuing down the hallway.
Continuing forty feet down the hallway, Jack and his entourage quickly came to their end destination. The Marine guard standing at parade rest beside the doorway confirmed that this was Sheppard's hospital room. The security detail waited outside in the hallway, as Jack opened the door. Looking at the Marine, Jack nodded towards the guard as he entered the room.
Already inside the private hospital room, Doctor Rodney McKay was already in attendance. Seated near the hospital bed, the look of concern plastered across McKay's face was clear to see. Laying in the hospital bed, Sheppard looked grim. Pale from surgery to his shoulder, blood loss, and the knowledge of what a circus this situation was turning into; Sheppard had looked better than he did now. Hearing footsteps entering the room, the Colonel opened his eyes and looked towards O'Neill as he stopped at the foot of the hospital bed.
"You know Colonel, if I don't keep you busy enough at the office, you could always take up a hobby that does not involve gunfire in public places. Golf comes to mind." O'Neill began.
"My shoulder may not be in any shape for golf at the moment sir." Sheppard replied.
"General O'Neill, good to see you." McKay added.
"Fancy seeing you here McKay. You made it here in record time." O'Neill replied.
"So, how bad is it out there sir?" Sheppard asked.
"I ran into the good Senator Carl Strom in the hallway. He wants to see you go to Courts Martial, and maybe flogged in a public square if possible. I stopped that. You can thank me for that later." Jack responded.
"Strom? You know, it never ceases to amaze me just who you Americans will elect into public office. In Canada, we do not have that problem." McKay muttered.
"Rodney!" Sheppard said, exasperated.
"McKay, the adults are speaking." Jack chided.
"So, can I look forward to a Courts Martial and a long vacation in a not so pleasant military penal facility?" Sheppard asked lightly.
"I do not see that happening. A few glaring issues cropped up while you were getting special touches from the medical staff. The investigation is less than twenty four hours old, and already huge issues are evident." Jack said.
"I have a permit to carry a concealed firearm." Sheppard argued.
"No, that is not the problem. When emergency services arrived on scene, it was assumed that the police officer laying dead in the street was just that, a police officer. That would have been too simple. Not only was this individual not a police officer, his car was not a DC police cruiser. It looked like one though. It gets better from there." Jack explained.
"There is more?" McKay asked in surprise.
"Rodney, let him talk." Sheppard stated.
"A lot more. The unknown subject dressed as a police officer was carrying a wallet. In this wallet was a driver's license. That was a fake, a very high quality fake, but still a fake. The other dead unknown subjects were also carrying false identification. So, they were fingerprinted when they arrived at the morgue. Those prints came back to the federal employee database, under a classified compartment. These boys were all former members of the NID." Jack further explained.
"NID? I thought those guys were all rounded up a few years ago." McKay said.
"So did we." Jack replied.
At that moment, the door opened. Turning his gaze towards the door, Jack sees the Marine guard move to block the doorway. Beyond the Marine, someone who was clearly a reporter was trying to capture a photo of the room's interior. Shoving the reporter away from the doorway, and into the arms of O'Neill's security detail, the reporter is quickly hustled away.
"Marine, get that man out of this hospital! If he comes back, shoot him in the big toe." O'Neill orders.
"Yes General!" The Marine replies before closing the door, smiling because he knows the General has a sense of humor.
"Sir, over dinner, my brother told me he was being followed. He thought the entire thing was a bad situation, and turned to me for help. He is out there somewhere sir, and I have to get him home." Sheppard said resolutely.
"That is out of the question John. You will be lucky if I can save your career after this." O'Neill argued.
"Oh come on!" McKay cried.
"Sir, you know as well as I do that we never leave a man behind." Sheppard pronounced.
"Somehow, I knew you were going to say that. So, I made a few calls." O'Neill said, while walking to the room's phone. This he lifted and said simply 'send him in'.
A moment later, the room's door again opened. Stepping through the doorway was a man known well to two of the three men present. Having fought beside all three of the men in the room, the sight of Ronon Dex should not have come as a surprise to Sheppard or McKay. No longer with the Atlantis Expedition, Ronon had spent the last year in an advisory role at Ft. Bragg with the Army's 1st Special Forces Group, Operational Detachment Delta. There, his skills in hand-to-hand combat, tracking, and evasion were being passed on to a new generation of operators.
"You look like crap Sheppard. Hey McKay." Ronon began.
"Thanks Chewie." Sheppard replied.
"Good to see you Ronon." McKay said, genuinely happy to see an old friend.
As the men spoke, O'Neill removed a small electronic device from his pants pocket. Setting it down next to the room's phone, Jack activated it. This device would render any listening device that might be present in the room useless, drowning out any unseen microphone with electronic noise undetectable to the human ear.
"Now that I am certain no one can listen in, let's get down to the meat of it. Gentlemen, let me remind you of the non-disclosure agreement you all signed when joining the program. This situation will require a level of secrecy and discretion beyond that. Let me level with you, this whole situation stinks. As someone framed for shooting a Senator once upon a time, I know a frame up when I see it." Jack stated.
"So, what do we do about it?" McKay asked.
"First, we are getting you out of here Sheppard. I put you on convalescent leave for the foreseeable future, so you have all the time you need. Assuming Ronon agrees, which I am certain he will, you two can go find your brother." Jack continued.
"Just us?" Sheppard asked.
"I should be able to give you some support here and there, but it will have to be done quietly. Material support is no problem though." Jack explained.
"Isn't the FBI going to be taking the lead in getting his brother back though?" McKay asked.
"Landry talked to the Attorney General this morning. Strom is throwing a fit to shut down any and all investigative efforts to recover Mr. Sheppard. If he is going to be saved, it is going to be on Ronon and John. Now, it is notable that no demands for the brother have been made. That makes it very unlikely that even if the FBI were involved, they could find him." Jack stated.
"I am working on that. When I heard what happened, I set loose a few programs I wrote for other purposes. They are busy data mining right now for any connections or evidence. Give me twelve hours and I will have that effort tripled." McKay promised.
"Tell me what you want to do Sheppard." Ronon urged.
"I want to get my brother home, and hurt some people. I want to hurt them all." Sheppard said in a low-pitched steely voice.
P9Q-717
Milky Way
After his departure from Earth, Major Carlyle traveled across a score of worlds. Many of his stopping points along the way were worlds known to be uninhabited. His last waypoint along the way was P3X-797, known to its inhabitants as the Land of Light. There, he remained for two days, following the schedule laid out in his mission profile. For two glorious days, he enjoyed the sunshine, while stealing himself for the next phase of his journey. Relaxed, rejuvenated, and refreshed; Carlyle once again dialed the gate and set out for territory known to be neutral ground for opposing factions of the Milky Way's more powerful cultures and subcultures.
Major Carlyle knew he was on schedule. Time was everything in what he was to do. Thoughts of the coming evolution of events played through his mind, as did the unknown variables that might very well be present, as he entered the settlement two miles from the gate. Built of stone and brick one and two story structures, the settlement was simple. Also simple were the people who inhabited this settlement. Farmers, merchants, and transient individuals converged here in a never-ending stream.
Strolling along the unpaved central main walkway of the settlement, Carlyle took in the sights around him. His senses were alive, taking in every facet of the activity around him. Around him, humans from many worlds clustered together in small groups, making their way towards the central market bizarre the settlement was home to. Falling in step with these small-clustered groups, nothing about Carlyle stood out to any who might be watching him. For all intents and purposes, he was just another customer, here to view the market's many stalls and merchant wares held within.
Slowly, Carlyle angled to the left, towards the two-story church like temple ahead of him. Casting his glance towards the main arched entryway, his eyes narrowed as he counted the stone blocks the temple was built of. From the doorway, he counted over four stone blocks, and then counted up two. There, on this block was a nondescript chalk mark, on the upper corner. Nothing anyone would ever pay any heed to.
Seeing this chalk mark, his stomach tightened, while an acidic taste took root in his mouth. This simple mark had meaning. The game was afoot. It was the beginning of things to come. Every bit of his training and education was about to be put to the test in the great game. Only time would tell how he fared in this game. For his sake, Carlyle hoped he did well. This simple mark dictated his next stop, along his stroll through town.
Entering the market, he was surprised by the amount of stalls and merchants present. While far from the Westfield Mall found back home in San Francisco, it was still an impressive sight. Passing merchant stalls filled with fruits and vegetables, he maneuvered around shoppers hunting for daily necessities. To his left, a cacophony of noise blared from a stall filled with caged chickens and other fowl. Twenty feet beyond, he saw what he was looking for.
This stall would have been at home in any American town. Similar to a gun shop, this stall catered to those seeking weaponry. Entering, Carlyle maneuvered around men looking at tables filled with knives, and other bladed weapons. Behind the shopkeeper, firearms were mounted on wooden boards, displayed for all to see. Carlyle took his time, looking over the stall's contents. Seeing nothing of worthy of further attention, Carlyle turned on his heels, making his exit. As he stepped out of the stall, a man entering brushed shoulders with Carlyle. None of this attracted even remote notice of those around. Even though he was aware of what had happened, Carlyle found himself amazed that he barely noticed the exchange. In his pocket was a note, dropped via the brush pass. Using tradecraft skillfully, this note was passed before all to see, though no one had.
For ten minutes, Carlyle continued through the stalls around him. Looking at trinkets and knickknacks, he seemed to any watching as if a simple shopper. His mind though, was spinning around the note sitting in his jacket's pocket. Mindlessly, he continued through the motions a cover such as his demanded. Finally, he decided he was safe to move on, and backtracked towards the temple already passed.
Passing through the arched main entryway that he had seen minutes before, he entered the temple. Dimly lit inside, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Looking around, he saw that no one else was present. Making down the center aisle, he seated himself in a pew in the middle of the temple. Bowing his head as if in prayer, he quickly read the note passed to him during the brush pass by his fellow Intelligence Support Activity operative. To be safe, he read the message twice, committing its contents to memory before twisting the message up into a wick. Standing up, he made his way to the altar the pews faced. Touching the note to a lit candle's flame, it quickly caught fire. This he used to light another candle, as many who entered this temple did during visits. Reflections of light from the candles and burning message danced across his eyes. No trace of the message remained for anyone to find.
Exiting the temple, Carlyle stepped back out into the bustling street. He knew eyes were upon him. His senses could not confirm this, but he knew it nonetheless. Even though he could not spot the other Intelligence Support Activity operatives around him, he knew they were there. Knowing he was not alone gave Carlyle peace of mind. The note he had read and destroyed confirmed what he suspected; one of the possible scenarios he had been briefed on was in play. That called for a drink.
Two hundred meters down the main thoroughfare, the settlement's tavern sat. This tavern had a reputation in intelligence circles on Earth, and throughout the galaxy. Before her time with Earth, Vala Mal Doran was a frequent patron. Stepping into the establishment, Carlyle looked around. From wall to wall, this place was filled with rough looking characters. Many of the faces present were ones Carlyle had seen dossiers on. Mercenaries, arms dealers, and highly proficient thieves get thirsty too, and this tavern allowed them to come together. In the far corner of the bar, a group of four leather-clad men drank at a table, separating themselves from the others.
Stepping to the bar, Carlyle and a few of the mercenaries standing nearby exchanged ugly and pointed looks. Luckily, nothing came of these glances. Motioning towards the woman working the bar, Carlyle ordered two mugs of a local beer, similar to some of the more tepid microbrews back on Earth. Grabbing one of the mugs, he wrapped a small strip of paper around the handle. This he asked be delivered to the leader of the leather clad Lucian Alliance group seated at the back table. Accustomed to passing messages between patrons, the bartender thought nothing of the new arrivals request.
Watching her walk over to the table, Carlyle saw the mug pass to the man he intended it to reach. The Lucian Alliance soldier took the mug, holding it skyward, offering a nod at Carlyle in thanks. Nodding in return, Carlyle tapped his finger on the handle of his mug. Catching the hint, the man took the strip of paper, quickly reading its contents. As he read, Carlyle watched as the mans eyes went wider than they had been. On that strip of paper was written 'You are being followed. A Tau'ri strike team is waiting outside of town for you. Remain calm'. Looking up, the Lucian Alliance soldier motioned for Carlyle to come forth. This, he did quickly.
"Leave us." The soldier says to his compatriots.
"I felt it was information you should be made aware of." Carlyle replied.
"How can you be sure?" The soldier asked.
"I followed them, as they followed you." Carlyle replied.
"Why should I trust you, a man I do not know?" The soldier asked.
"You have no reason to trust me, but every reason to take heed of the warning I offer." Carlyle replied.
"Perhaps you are one of the team sent to capture me." The soldier mused.
"If I were after you, this conversation would be much different." Carlyle replied with a laugh.
"What would be different about it?" The soldier asked.
"I would have your belongings, and you and your men would be dead." Carlyle replied simply.
Before the conversation could continue further, the soldier signaled to the men with him. Not wasting time on conversation, the four Lucian Alliance members quickly exited the bar. Entering the bustling street, they turned right and headed towards the nearest exit of the settlement. Filled with nervous energy, fear of the unknown, and adrenaline fueled jitters; the men looked around rapidly. For forty nerve-wracking minutes, the four leather clad men made their way towards the stargate standing in the distance. Instead of well-worn pathways, they cut their own path through the forest.
Taking this route, they zigzagged through the woods. As they silently stalked towards the gate, a hush fell over the group. In nature, when animal life of all sorts goes suddenly silent, you know nothing good will come of it. Not a sound could be heard, expect that of labored and nervous breathing from the Lucian Alliance soldiers. Peeling their ears, the men listened deeply, in hopes of hearing those who might or might not be pursuing them.
At that moment, the ear shattering booms of weapons fire rang out. Powerful and compact; the new Tau'ri individual rail gun rifles were far from silent. All around the Lucian Alliance soldiers, dirt kicked up, and woodchips flew through the air. The high-speed rounds flying through the air shredded many of the smaller trees between the soldiers and those firing at them. Drawing weapons of their own, the Lucian Alliance soldiers fired in the direction of the oncoming weapons fire.
Dropping to a knee, the soldiers pumped round after round downrange. Had they been able to see their attackers, their rounds might have struck home. That they could not, meant luck and instinct was the only thing selecting their points of fire. From the wood line, extremely well aimed Zat fire joined the fray. In three quick shots, all but the Lucian Alliance commander fell to the ground, stunned and unconscious.
The commander huddled down, ready to fight to the death. An end to this life would be far preferable to captivity at the hands of the Tau'ri. He was fully prepared to force his pursuers to kill him while attempting to affect his capture. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Death here and now was his only choice. His one regret was all that he would leave behind unfinished.
At that moment, four loud weapons blasts were heard in the distance. This weapon was clearly an energy weapon. The noise of its report was far different from any the commander had ever heard before. Forty seconds after these four loud weapons retorts, movement towards him through the underbrush became apparent.
"Hold your fire!" Carlyle called out.
"You will never take me!" Cordry, the Lucian Alliance commander screamed in reply.
"It is me, from the bar! Holster your weapon idiot!" Carlyle raged in reply.
Emerging from the shredded tree line, Carlyle was greeted by the sight of Cordry aiming his pistol squarely at him. Apparently, Cordry took issue with the request to holster the weapon.
"You are Tau'ri!" Cordry hissed.
"No, but I did take care of those shooting at you." Carlyle answered nonchalantly.
"I refuse to believe that!" Cordry screamed.
"We can stand here and argue until the other Tau'ri on this world come to their fallen comrade's aide, or we can leave this world now." Carlyle argued.
"Why should I trust what you claim?" Cordry demanded.
"How about I let you continue to sit here and yell. I will just go about my business, and leave you to deal with the Tau'ri. I am certain they will be in a friendly mood once they see the dead team in the woods behind me. You are a big boy, I am sure you can talk your way out of this misunderstanding." Carlyle chided.
Seeing the logic of his savior's argument, Cordry jumps to his feet. He and Carlyle run at a furious pace towards the gate in the distance. Lungs burned as legs labored to propel them forward. Reaching the gate, Cordry begins to dial.
"You saved my life! I owe you a great debt for this my friend." Cordry promised.
"We can talk about this when we are safe. Dial the gate!" Carlyle urged with a sense of urgency.
Moments later, the gate sprang to life. As the event horizon settled into a stable puddle, the two men ran towards the wormhole that would carry them to safety. Racing through, Cordry failed to notice the sly smirk on Carlyle's face as they entered, and were whisked away.
Lacking any further traffic, the gate deactivated shortly thereafter. Two minutes after gate shutdown, a Tel'tak shimmered into existence, after powering down its cloak. Landing eight hundred meters from the gate, the side door sprang open. Emerging from the craft, a wide smile on her face, Vala Mal Doran looked around for those she knew were coming. From the wood line, four exoskeleton clad ISA operatives, and three operatives dressed in clothing like those of this world emerged. Over the shoulder of three of the exoskeleton clad operatives, the limp forms of stunned Lucian Alliance troops hung limply.
Reaching into her pocket, Vala removed six plastic zip ties. These she locked around the unconscious men's wrists and ankles. Added to this were black hoods, placed over each of the unconscious men's heads. As the group of ISA operatives boarded the Tel'tak, Vala made her way to the pilot's seat.
"Where to boys?" Vala asked.
"Take us to the November Site." An operative replied.
New Heliopolis, Hall of the Alliance of Five Great Races
Milky Way
Arriving in turn, representatives of each of the Five Races exited the gate. Melia of the Ancient's talked with Dorin of the Furling. Lya of the Nox sat in her seat within the meeting hall, a peaceful and serene look on her face. Last to arrive, Penegal of the Asgard and now full Colonel Paul Davis entered, and took their seats.
Pleasantries were exchanged, as the meeting came to order. Outside of the normal meeting schedule, Penegal was unsure of what the topic of discussion for today would be. True to form, the two ascended member races gave no hints.
"I apologize for this unscheduled meeting, but we have a matter of importance to discuss of importance." Melia began.
"This is a matter of importance to us all." Dorin agreed.
"What is this matter you make mention of?" Penegal asked.
"The continued security of the Pegasus galaxy." Lya replied.
"Pegasus is secure, and reconstruction efforts have been underway for some time." Penegal explained.
"On that, you are correct. In order to secure Pegasus moving into the future, more is needed." Melia explained.
"Fleet units of both the fleets of Earth and the Asgard patrol that galaxy regularly. To maintain a larger ship presence within Pegasus, we would be forced to pull ships away from our home galaxy, and this galaxy." Penegal countered.
"The Travelers maintain a sizeable fleet within Pegasus, but they two spread their fleet between this galaxy and Pegasus." Davis added.
"Another option exists. One we believe to be in the best interests of the Pegasus galaxy, and the Asgard people." Melia suggested.
"What would that be?" Penegal asked.
"The Vanir." Dorin stated.
"The Vanir are a rogue and criminal element. They offer nothing to the stability of Pegasus." Penegal argued.
"Were it not for the warning sent by the Vanir, the final battle against the Wraith might have ended far differently." Davis countered.
"The opportunity is in your hands to bring your people back together. Seal this rift between the Asgard and Vanir once and for all." Lya requested.
"Has it been forgotten what the Vanir have done in the past? They used force against Atlantis, vessels of the Earth fleet, and against the Asgard. They are enemies of the Asgard, and this council." Penegal argued.
"An enemy does not always remain so. The one known as Todd was once our enemy, and now watches over the galaxy of Ida and the separatist Jaffa relocated there." Melia countered.
"Together, we brought the descendents of the Ancient's together in multiple galaxies, despite them being followers of the Ori for example. Did these former Ori followers not help combat the Wraith? You see, enemies can become friends moving forward." Dorin said.
"What they say has merit Penegal. We can all work together to bring the Asgard back together as a people. It will not be an easy task, but it will be one well worth the reward once complete." Davis interjected.
"The Vanir have no fleet to patrol Pegasus. That fact alone makes this effort pointless." Penegal stated, using his last card to play.
"Suitable numbers of vessels for the task can be easily constructed within Arkos." Melia replied.
"The Asgard High Council will never agree to hand over examples of our latest vessels to the Vanir. The last time they were aboard the Hala, it was because they stole it." Penegal said, his unease growing.
"The Bilisknr design is suitable, and of a sufficiently less advanced design to satisfy the Asgard High Council." Dorin suggested.
"The question of why remains unanswered to a large degree." Penegal said.
"The Vanir have a vested interest in ensuring Pegasus remains free, as they reside in that galaxy. They can also be of great assistance in watching over the separatist Jaffa, while the Asgard watch over Todd and his nation of hybrids. This act secures not one galaxy, but two." Melia stated.
"If this is the wish of the Council of Five Races, then I will agree. My agreement comes under protest, and I wish that fact noted." Penegal said, admitting defeat.
The meeting continued for another hour, covering a multitude of issues. When it was over, Melia and Lya moved to converse with Penegal, hoping to ease his discomfort with the meetings events and findings. Dorin, walked with Colonel Davis as he strode towards the gate.
"Colonel, may I speak with you for a moment?" Dorin asked.
"Of course Ambassador." Davis replied with a welcoming smile.
"I have a request to make of your government." Dorin stated.
"What is your request Ambassador?" Davis asked.
"It is my understanding that Colonel Everett Young is still in command of the Ajax. Is this correct?" Dorin asked.
"Yes Ambassador, he is." Davis answered.
"I wish to request passage on the Ajax for a special mission, of interest to your world." Dorin explained.
"Is this mission dangerous? Why Ajax specifically?" Davis asked.
"I assure you the mission is not dangerous in any aspect. I ask that it be Ajax, as I am fond of Colonel Young, and wish that he accompany me on this endeavor." Dorin explained.
"On my return to Earth, I will pass your request to the powers that be. I see no reason they should not grant the request of an ally." Davis replied.