Langara
Langaran Solar System
Milky Way
It all began with a breakfast pastry similar to a fritter. Glazed and infused with cinnamon and a fruit similar to a pear, these confections were a staple breakfast food of all on Langara. Known as a frosted Mimi, both young and old delighted in the deliciousness of this breakfast treat. Giving the Mimi texture was the inclusion of a rough corn flour. This also served to provide additional nutritional value to the pastry. It was this additional ingredient that the Lucian Alliance chose to exploit with their nefarious plan.
Long a planet of keen interest to the Lucian Alliance, Langara was also home to a small network of natives known to provide sporadic intelligence updates on Tau'ri activity. Born and bred on Langara, the members of this small network were unaware of other members. Each believed themselves to be a lone operative, working to create a stronger Langara. Sadly, none of the network members was aware that those they helped from time to time were members of the Lucian Alliance. Instead, they believed they worked to assist a secretive cell of ultra conservative Langaran patriots. For Kefflin's plan, only one of these network members present within the Langaran public would be given a role to play.
Upon being assigned to his task, Worrel first visited a number of other planets throughout the galaxy. On his first stop, clothing was procured. On his second, a small sack containing Kassa joined his collection of things. Worrel then made a third, and most important stop. Making his way of a farm world, known for agricultural trading with Langara, Worrel purchased three large sacks of corn. Purchasing these sacks intentionally less than full, the Lucian Alliance operative had no trouble intermixing Kassa with corn. Sealing up the heavy burlap sacks, Worrel donned the clothing earlier procured, and traveled through the gate to Langara.
Much had changed with the surroundings of Langara's gate in the last several years. Whereas it had once sat in an aboveground facility, tied into the planets naqaudria reserves, the gate had been moved to a location between Joint Base MacArthur and the Langaran capital city. Since before the construction of the Tau'ri Joint Base, the governments of Earth had called upon the Langaran government to institute controls over their gate, and a system of customs checks for arriving goods and travelers. Such a system in the past would have prevented the departure of Jonas Quinn and his ill-gotten naqaudria, which he took with him to Earth years ago. As governments are want to do, these requests were met with simple lip service, and quickly forgotten. This oversight would prove disastrous for Langara, and the Langaran people.
Upon his arrival through the Langaran gate, Worrel was met with little security. A single government official, sitting at a booth built twenty meters from the gate, questioned the newly arrived traveler. Upon being told the traveler was a simple farmer from the agrarian farm world, the government official wished Worrel a good day, and promptly returned to reading an issue of Maxim Magazine recently purchased from a military member stationed at MacArthur. Infiltration had been the one process in the plan that had worried Worrel. Those worries had been greatly misplaced, as he learned.
Making his way from the gate at the city's outskirts, Worrel, with his illicit cargo in tow, meandered through the Langaran metropolis's many snaking avenues. Luckily, his journey was not far, as commercial activity was contained to the southeast corner of the city itself. Arriving in front of a large red brick building, with a bronze plaque proclaiming the building to home to the Langaran Union Mill, Worrel relaxed. Thankfully, he had made it to his destination unchallenged.
Pulling his cart into the building, Worrel left his cargo in a receiving delivery area. From there, he continued into the depths of the large red brick building. Mill workers, busy with their daily workload, took little notice of Worrel. Ascending a set of metal stairs, Worrel came to the mill foreman's office. Rapping a knuckle on the door, Worrel heard the foreman's invitation to enter.
Passing through the doorway, Worrel took in the sight of the middle aged and grizzled foreman.
"Dropping off or picking up?" The foreman demanded in annoyance.
"Dropping off." Worrel replied.
"Drop off's are downstairs. See the paymaster of payment." The foreman instructed.
"Leadership requires an element of patience in an impatient world." Worrel said, giving the code phrase announcing him as a member of the nonexistent Langaran Patriots League.
For a moment, the foreman said nothing. On his face, his expression quickly changed from annoyance to one of deep respect. Though meetings had taken place between members of the Langaran Patriots League in the past, none of those meetings had taken place at the mill.
"If you have come for my last report, I am sorry to tell you it was left in the dead drop several weeks ago." The foreman said humbly.
"I am not here for your report. Instead, I am here because it is time. We have a task for you. This task will bring about a stronger Langara, led by true patriots like you and I." Worrel explained.
"I am at your service." The foreman vowed.
"In the delivery receiving area, you will find a cart loaded with corn from off world. I want you to personally oversee the transfer of this corn to the flour processing area. This corn is to be added to the largest corn flour batch you have currently in production. The liberation of all Langara hinges on this flour falling into widespread circulation quickly. Do you understand?" Worrel asked.
"Our largest daily production run is for bakeries. You want this flour in the bakery run?" The foreman asked.
"That we do. The future of Langara depends on you succeeding in this task. Give me your estimate on how long it will take the end product to come into circulation." Worrel demanded.
"We always have a large stock of corn flour in some form of delivery. Ten to fourteen days at most." The foreman explained.
"You are a true patriot, and will be rewarded once Langara is in safe hands. We will meet after the current corrupt regime has fallen." Worrel stated seriously, before taking his leave.
Less than half an hour passed before Worrel reached the gate at the outskirts of the city. As the wormhole stabilized, Worrel turned one last time and ran his eyes over the city. A sense of pride washed over him. Stepping through the gate, no one near the interplanetary portal saw the cruel smile on the departing visitors face.
In the mill, the foreman lived up to his promise. Taking charge of the delivery, the senior supervisor oversaw the immediate transfer of the Kassa infused sacks of corn to the grinding area. Cut open, the contaminated contents of these burlap bags were dumped into a giant hopper, filled to the brim with corn. On top of this, other sacks were poured in as well. None of the workers present took notice of the purple colored Kassa, now covered with other kernels.
Working its way through the hopper, the Kassa drew ever closer to the grinder. Three hours after introduction to the hopper, Kassa, and surrounding corn finally come to the grinder. Already dry, the Kassa and corn were ground into smaller bits, before moving on to the next step in the process. Running through the pulverizer, the small pieces were further broken up into a grainy dust. From there, the Kassa contaminated flour moved on to a large mixing apparatus, where Kassa and corn flour alike were intermixed until the highly addictive psycho reactive stimulant contaminated the many tons of corn flour in this batch.
This finished product was then bagged. Each of these twenty pound sealed bags of Kassa infused flour was stored away, in the warehouse beside the large mill. For twelve days and nights, the bags remained, awaiting the already present stock's delivery. On the thirteenth day, under a full moon, these bags were delivered to bakeries throughout the Langaran capital. Bakers, working the night shift, toiled throughout the night in industrial scale bakeries to create the cherished frosted Mimi in vast quantities. Each, on varying levels, contained the substance, which made Kassa so incredibly addictive.
Delivery trucks, filled to the brim with frosted Mimi's, plied the roadways of the Langaran capital city, in the early predawn hours of the morning. Some of these deliveries were to governmental offices. Others made their way to schools, and universities. Still others were delivered into the hands of freestanding bakeries lacking the ability to create this breakfast staple on their own and instead purchased from others for resale. Before the first breaking rays of dawn cast a golden glow over the city, a sugary weapon in waiting sat ready for consumption.
As the day began, both blue and white-collar workers took to the streets. Making their way, as they did each day, to their respective places of work, many of these individuals stopped along the way at bakeries along their route. Stepping into these bakeries, Langaran's were met with the rich scent of fresh Mimi's. This was the smell of home, the smell of childhood, the smell of a daily ritual on this world. It was a rare thing for a Langaran to take their morning Mimi, and wait until arriving at their place of work before consuming the delectable treat. Those that did served to spread the coming disaster. Those that did not consumed their Mimi while inside the bakery.
For those that ate their Mimi within its place of purchase, a wave of feelings overcame them. While they loved their frosted Mimi's, the feelings these brought on were far different than was the norm. Contentment, happiness, excitement, and energy washed over each. Suddenly, their entire thought process was filled with nothing more than the desire to consume further Mimi's. These individuals, of which their were many, were suddenly ravenous. With great gusto, each of these individuals began to purchase more and more Mimi's. This rash of sudden and compulsive purchases first surprised bakery proprietors, and then began to frighten them.
For smaller bakeries and storefronts, the amount of fresh frosted Mimi's in stock was small. In one bakery, a dozen blocks from the Langaran Capital Building, violence broke out quickly. Being told the bakery had no more Mimi's to sell, those customers already overcome by the effects of Kassa, quickly broke into violence. Glass cases used to hold baked goods shattered, as customers tore into the other remaining baked goods. Each treat consumed that was not a frosted Mimi did nothing to reduce their desire for more. Bakery staff soon fell under a shower of blows, as the customers focused their rage at the person they felt was standing between them and the object of their desire.
Outside of these bakeries, violence began to spill over into the streets. Shouts, yells, and screams pierced the air as seemingly normal citizens turned into ravenous animals, bent on consuming Mimi's, no matter where they might be found. From a seven storey tall, glass clad building across from one such bakery, the first casualties came. Driven mad by the lack of Mimi's in his place of work, a young financial analyst first threw a chair through his window, to be quickly followed by a coworker. Believing his falling coworker to be in secret possession of a Mimi, the analyst quickly jumped through the window, following the coworker to his death.
In schoolhouses, children enjoyed their first Mimi of the morning. As was tradition, each teacher passed out a single Mimi to each student in class. These young minds who these teachers dedicated themselves to educating quickly turned on each teacher. Children, driven mad by the desire to consume Mimi's in vast quantities, charged their teachers. While an adult should have no problem handling a violent child, the act of overcoming thirty drug-crazed children was nearly impossible. These children, joining forces with the crazed children from other classes, flooded into the streets. As this wave of youth spread out from many places, sirens began to fill the air from all points.
Less than an hour after disturbances began at many points around the city, a flood of people charged into the streets. Some, under the influence of the reactive psycho stimulant, did so to find the object of their desire, and thereby retain the euphoria it brought to them. Others did so to flee the raving pack of lunatics bent on destroying anything or anyone in their path. Bedlam and anarchy began to take hold. The arrival of Langaran law enforcement did little to staunch the flow. Quickly, law enforcement and fire department personnel found themselves under assault, and overrun. Each called in for backup, which never was to come. Langara's law enforcement was neutralized for the most part, due to their love of frosted Mimi's as well.
Sentries patrolling the perimeter of Joint Base MacArthur soon took note of the disturbance in the distance. Calling these reports in to the base operations center, each sentry hoped that whatever was transpiring in the distance remained in the distance. Operations personnel, caught off guard by the anarchy sweeping through the Langaran capital city, decided this very well could be the precursor to the attack expected. In response, Joint Base MacArthur was quickly moved from Force Protection Condition Charlie, to Force Protection Condition Delta.
Less than ten minutes after the defense posture elevation, military personnel began to move towards the base's several gates of entry. At each, a set of barriers was emplaced, to hinder the speedy approach of vehicles. From the base airfield, aircraft began to take to the air in small numbers. H-100 Paiute's, each with a team of air to ground observers, began to orbit at varying distance around the perimeter of Joint Base MacArthur. Seeing smoke rising from many points within the Langaran capital city, one of these craft broke away to overfly the city.
The sight that met the flight crew, and the onboard air to ground observation team, was one of anarchy. Memories riots seen on television as teenagers filled their minds. Not in a thousand years would these observers have expected to see the sight that now filled their eyes. Things on the streets of the city below were not just getting out of hand, they were already there. These were Langaran's fighting Langaran's. From their vantage point above the city, the observers could see the beginnings of a herd mentality developing. Possessed with an intelligence of its own, the throng of rioters banded together, and began to systematically destroy anything or anyone in their path. This, the observers quickly called in.
Three stories underground, beneath the headquarters building of Joint Base MacArthur, the report of events within the Langaran capital arrived in a steady stream. Within the Directorate of Plans, Training, Mobilization, and Security, planners busied themselves trying to make sense of it all. Thus far, the men and women of DPTMS had done little more than react at a local level. Before any further moves could be made, they first needed to ascertain the nature of the threat. Once the threat was identified, they could then work towards seizing the initiative. As the planning staff poured over a holographic display table, the S-3 Operations Chief entered the subterranean bunker.
"My people need to know exactly what is going on out there, if we are to have any hope of dealing with this mess." Colonel Feld, the Post S-3 announced.
"We are still trying to make sense of it all sir." Sergeant Major Alvarez admitted.
"For now, hold off on telling me what we don't know. Just tell me what we do know." Colonel Feld urged.
"At this moment, the Langaran capital is in a state of emergency. We are seeing civil unrest, riots, and widely sporadic episodes of violence. So far, this is contained to only the capital. We have verified that with elements of the Langaran military around the world. Overhead imagery is telling us little sir." Alvarez explained.
"What is the nature of the threat? Are we dealing with Lucian Alliance or not?" Feld demanded.
"Based on imagery, it is our assessment that these are Langaran's, and not members of the Lucian Alliance. The lack of weapons fire supports that. Could this be some type of insurgent action? Yes. Is that likely? No. Based on the widespread panic and disorder, it is highly possible we are looking at the effects of airborne dispersal of some type of chemical agent. That we failed to detect a delivery vehicle makes this possibility unlikely." Alvarez continued.
"Can we call our vessels in the system in to assist? They should be able to beam rioters elsewhere while get a hold on this." Feld questioned.
"We did contact our vessels, and they responded that without a direct order from Earth, they will not stand down from their fleet intercept tasking. Wouldn't want to come between the flyboys and their never ending quest for glory. One thing we could do is send out a Prairie Fire signal." Alvarez suggested.
"Sergeant Major, that is only to be transmitted if a unit is being overrun. Right now, we are not in that situation. I don't know about you, but I would rather not be forcibly retired just yet. Understand?" Feld asked in frustration.
"Alright." Alvarez fumed.
"Yes or no; is this something the Langaran police can handle on their own?" Feld inquired.
"At this point, no. The city police have gone offline. We must consider them neutralized. Units of their fire department are still broadcasting, but the number of units continues to drop. The Langaran military isn't up to dealing with this either, as they learned a half hour ago." Alvarez stated.
"What happened?" Feld asked.
"In the Langaran Capital Building, several dozen people are trapped. Thankfully, they barricading themselves in the building, but those barricades will only hold for so long. Two Langaran UH-60's moved in to evacuate staff and officials from the building. Several hundred rioters surged towards the choppers. One got away clean, while the other was overrun. None from within the building got out. They are still screaming for help. This is getting ugly fast." Alvarez sighed.
"Can we expect help from Earth?" Fled asked.
"The Ready Defense Force from the 82nd Airborne is taking to planes now at Pope Air Force Base. They should arrive within the next four to six hours. We can expect the Ready Brigade here within the next twenty four hours. Should we need further assistance, a Marine expeditionary unit is on alert. All we can do is hold until then." Alvarez admitted.
"We can either sit here and do nothing, or get a move on. I would rather be moving and wrong, than stationary and right. Let's get a few of our aircraft out there and evacuate the Capital Building." Feld suggested.
"The landing area is blocked. When the crowd overran the UH-60, the pilot tried to lift off. The bird lost control, and is in pieces all over the landing area. Rioters are still present sir." Alvarez countered.
"Then we send in an air force, and a ground force. Our vehicles tracks will shred their road surfaces. Instead, we break out the battalion set of Stryker's due for turnover to the Langaran's next week. Put some non-lethal systems on them, and this should work." Feld hypothesized.
"If we go by the field manual, we will want to put long guns in over watch positions along the ground convoy's route, and also around the Capital Building complex itself. Enough tall buildings are there to do the job. One problem though, is the amount of non-lethal weapons we have in our stores. If we mount these to the ground convoy, we are going to come up short to seal off our own perimeter. We can cover each gate with an Active Denial System, and an LRAD, but that is a thin safety margin sir." Alvarez offered.
"Back them up with vehicles from the post fire department. Anyone that gets through the active defenses will then be faced with high pressure water. This is far from perfect, but it is workable. Let's get things moving now, so we can be ready to roll sooner than later." Feld ordered.
"Yeah, this is going to work great." Alvarez whispered to himself acidly.
Over the course of the following three hours, a flurry of activity took place across the large Joint Base. Slapped together quickly, instead of meticulously planned; the coming evolution filled some of those who would participate with a sense of worry and uncertainty. Despite their misgivings, each soldier knew the mission would move forward, no matter their personal thoughts on the matter. As pre-mission briefings took place, each put aside their misgivings, and instead concentrated on the task at hand.
On the airfield attached to MacArthur, twenty sniper teams, composed of three men apiece, boarded several H-100 Paiute's. As this collection of craft lifted off, further Paiute's, and the collection of Puddle Jumper's assigned to MacArthur also climbed into the air. While the first group of craft was meant to emplace sniper teams atop buildings along the soon to depart ground convoy's route to the Langaran Capital Building, the second set of craft were assigned a much different mission. This second set of craft would instead be used to evacuate civilian's facing imminent danger. That everyone within the city faced imminent danger was a fact everyone realized.
Sniper teams aboard their carrying Paiute's looked out over the landscape below. What they saw was a surreal nightmare, playing out on a citywide scale. Flight crew, piloting each Paiute, focused on their mission. To avoid pinpointing the final position each sniper team would take, each Paiute began to perform numerous false insertions. Six times in total, each Paiute came to a static hover over the top of a different multistory building, before making their way to their final target. It was hoped, that if anyone was watching, that the location of each sniper team would be much harder to pinpoint.
Once in position, each three man team struck their claim upon their individual areas of responsibility. Sniper and spotter turned their attention to the streets below, seeking out any possible threat to the ground convoy to come. The third man of each time busied himself securing the stairway leading to each team's rooftop perch. Individually, each team reported in that they were in position.
Through the main gate of Joint Base MacArthur, ten of the eight-wheeled Stryker's charged towards the Langaran capital. Within five of the nineteen-ton vehicles, a nine-man infantry squad sat; chauffeured by the vehicles two-man crew. While each infantry squad member wore their combat rated exoskeleton, the only armaments carried were their particle magnums. The order to leave their particle magnums on stun was not an order any would consider violating. Pintle mounted to each vehicle, and manned by a vehicle crewmember, were non-lethal weapons. Half of the vehicles in the ground convoy were armed with pintle mounted Mk. 19 belt fed automatic grenade launchers. While not a non-lethal weapon itself, each Mk.19 was loaded with forty-millimeter rounds, each of which was filled with a substance known in military parlance as anti-traction material. The other five Stryker were armed with a very different type of non-lethal weapon. Resembling the M134 mini gun, each of these weapons was known simply as the pulsed energy projectile.
As the ground convoy crossed the threshold of the capital, little was seen on the streets. Receiving the all clear signal from rooftop sniper teams along their route, the convoy proceeded at decent speed. Reports flowing in from these teams alerted the ground convoy to a massive number of rioters making their way towards the capital building. This warning served to spur the convoy on towards their objective, at best possible speed. Along their path, vehicle crewmembers saw several dozen civilians attempting to flee. Full of regret, each vehicle crewmember hated the fact that they could not stop, and whisk these civilians to safety. The mission simply did not allow for it. These sightings were instead passed on to aircraft overhead, busy with evacuation efforts of their own.
As the vehicles drew closer to the city's center, where the Langaran Capital Building stood, the trickle of visible rioters turned into an angry flood. Luckily, for the convoy, these rioters were busy rampaging through side streets, instead of the convoy's route. Seeing the ten vehicles speed by, these rioters directed their full attention upon them. Running as fast as feet could carry them; rioters pursued the vehicles moving away at high speed. Seeing that none of the rioters was armed and representing a threat to the convoy, sniper teams held their fire. While none of these sniper teams wished to visit their deadly skill upon a civilian rioter, the frustration of being powerless to prevent the rioters giving chase mounted.
Receiving updates and instructions from aircraft orbiting overhead, the ten vehicle convoy of Stryker's turned down a side street paralleling the main avenue leading to the capital building. It was then that the vehicles came into the sightline of the largest body of rioters rampaging throughout the city. In the lead vehicle, the vehicle commander consulted his map screen for a moment, before rapidly relaying his plan to the vehicles trailing behind. Per his orders, the nine following Stryker's would turn, and race directly for the capital building, while the first vehicle would lay down supporting fire.
As the lead Stryker came to a quick stop, the vehicle commander popped up through a top hatch. Grapping the dual hand holds of the Mk. 19 in front of him, the vehicle commander took aim at the several thousand rioters three hundred meters in the distance. Taking aim at the street twenty yards before the oncoming mass of rioting Langaran's, the vehicle commander fired his Mk. 19 automatic belt fed grenade launcher. As the weapon recoiled and spat forty-millimeter projectiles, the vehicle commander swiveled the weapon from left to right. Seconds later, these projectiles began to detonate. Instead of the rolling boom of a high explosive projectile, these instead produced a dull thud, followed by a wet smacking sound.
As each of these projectiles detonated, droplets of highly viscous gel spread across the surface of the side street, and the sidewalks that ran to either side. Continued projectile detonations added greatly to the growing collection of goo coating the ground. The sight of this did nothing to deter the surge of rioters. The first rioters to encounter the Anti Traction Material immediately slipped, and hit the ground hard. As further rioters bounded over those already on the ground, a mass of fallen individuals came to rest on those already down. No matter what the enraged rioters attempted, they could not stand, or even gain leverage. Rioters continuing their charge over those on the ground were soon brought down as well. Sticking to any surface it touched, the Anti Traction Material coated shoes, clothing, hands, and hair. The pileup of human beings grew, until the vehicle commander could no longer differentiate between those on the ground, and those behind them. Those rioters not already disabled by the ultra slick material were blocked from forward progress. Lack of rational decision making ability would keep them there as well.
The other nine Stryker's, continuing on towards their objective, began to lay down Anti Traction fire of their own, to the left and right of their advance. Aircraft overhead reported a large group of rioters approaching to the rear of the large capital building. Coordinating efforts with those to be evacuated, the men and women of DPTMS had maintained near constant contact by phone, with those inside the capital building. This contact ensured the evacuee's were prepared for a speedy exit to the vehicles now arriving. Bounding over curbs in their path, the nine Stryker's, and one straggler following behind, came to a stop on the large central lawn of the capital.
Non-lethal weapons atop each vehicle were trained in the distance, while ramps at the rear of each vehicle lowered. Infantrymen exited the vehicles, and moved to establish a perimeter around the parked vehicles of the convoy. A large ornate bronze door opened at the top of the Capital Building steps, and evacuees began to race towards their rescuers. Among the ranks of the evacuee's was Jonas Quinn. Despite the tragedy unfolding on the streets of the capital, Jonas wore his customary nervous smile.
Evacuees were hustled aboard waiting Stryker's, and infantrymen performing perimeter security began to fall back towards the static vehicles. As this unfolded, a group of twenty rioters charged towards the central lawn. Manning a pintle mounted pulsed energy projectile weapon, a vehicle commander fixed his aim on the lunatics sprinting closer and closer. Already powered, the vehicle commander switched the non-lethal weapon to firing mode. Taking aim at the middle of the sprinting group, the vehicle commander depressed the firing button. An audible series of clicks and a momentary flash of light announced the weapons discharge.
From the weapon, a quarter second discharge of laser energy, in brilliant green, erupted towards the oncoming rioters. As this beam impacted a group of three sprinters, a number of things happened at a speed impossible for the human mind to register. Laser energy, coming into contact with the fibers of clothing worn by the rioters, flashed this material, and a thin layer of skin to plasma. The resulting wave of expanding plasma first gave off a small electromagnetic pulse, which triggered nerve cells and pain receptors in the bodies of those nearby to fire. Temporary paralysis and blinding pain followed. Before this pain could register, the expanding wave of plasma threw bodily those struck two feet through the air. In a ragged heap, the screaming and temporarily paralyzed rioters fell to the ground. Seeing the after effects of his single shot, the vehicle commander silently mouthed the word 'wow'.
The sight of their comrades flying through the air, only to end up screaming on the ground, did nothing to dissuade the others charging towards the Stryker's. Three more firing cycles from the pulsed energy projectile weapon ended their charge prematurely. Sniper team seven, watching over the evacuation, informed the convoy of a large mass of rioters approaching. They further informed the convoy that they were abandoning their outpost, and would be extracting with the convoy itself.
Unlike the infantrymen now returning to their vehicles, the sniper teams were not wearing their combat exoskeletons. Instead, they wore their standard digital camouflage fatigues. Over these, sniper team seven also wore repelling harnesses. Having strung repelling lines upon their arrival, the team snapped carabiners onto the three individual lines, and began their decent towards street level. Two members of the three-man team sprinted towards the vehicles nearby. The third member of sniper team seven, judging the distance between the Stryker's and oncoming rioters, realized the convoy would need a distraction if it was to have any hope of escape.
Looking up the block, towards the rioters charging towards him, the soldier spotted a single vehicle on the street. Racing towards the vehicle, he silently cursed to himself. Radioing the convoy, the young soldier explained what he was doing, and told the convoy commander to get moving. Jumping into the vehicle, the soldier found keys still in the ignition. Starting the vehicle, the young man laughed aloud.
"Here I am, in a riot on an alien world. What type of getaway vehicle do I find? An ice cream truck. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried." The soldier laughed.
Putting the vehicle in gear, the soldier slammed the accelerator pedal to the floor. From loudspeakers mounted on the trucks roof, chiming music blared. Oddly, the soldier thought, the song sounded very similar to 'Pop goes the weasel'. No matter how hard he mashed the accelerator down, the ice cream truck refused to move faster than fifteen miles per hour. In the distance, member of the convoy looked at the ice cream truck in confusion. As the truck rounded a corner, the oncoming rioters gave chase. Convoy forgotten, the ice cream truck consumed every ounce of the rioter's attention. Grabbing a microphone from the dashboard, the young soldier began to speak over the loudspeakers.
"Ice cream! Come get your ice cream! Catch me and your first one is free!" The soldier taunted.
Looking into the rearview mirror, the soldier was at first ecstatic at the sight of over a thousand angry rioters giving chase. When the reality of what he was doing sank in, a cloud of worry washed over him for a brief moment, before being ignored away. On many levels, this reminded the young man of hours spent playing Grand Theft Auto. That thought alone buoyed the soldier forward.
Knowing that the ice cream truck provided the needed diversion, the convoy of Stryker's struck out on their return trip back to Joint Base MacArthur. Throwing caution to the wind, the convoy moved at speeds far in excess of those allowed by Langaran law. As the convoy took a different route out of the city from the one used for entry, the vehicles bypassed sniper teams established on rooftops. Paiute's and Puddle Jumpers, performing evacuation duty for civilians trapped in the city, momentarily diverted to retrieve these teams. In the excitement of everything happening, the fact that a lone soldier was risking his life in an ice cream truck failed to be reported to higher command. For now, that young soldier was on his own.
High above the chaos within the city, eight C-142 Nimbus transport craft descended. Aboard these spacecraft was the Ready Defense Force, comprising a single battalion of paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne Division. Following instructions from MacArthur Control, each Nimbus sank slowly to the awaiting airfield. Once on the ground, each Nimbus taxied to a receiving ramp, and began to offload men and material. Fearing an eventual move against the Joint Base, these new arrivals were immediately pushed forward to spots around the facility's perimeter. Further reinforcements would arrive within eighteen hours.
Fully aware that the situation within the Langaran capital city had spiraled too far out of control to reign in, a call for help had again gone out to Earth. Transmitted through the stargate, the message went directly to General Samantha Carter. If the Pentagon would not help, perhaps the SGC would. Giving her word and meaning it, General Carter swore that help would soon be on the way. To those who heard this vow, they interpreted this to mean SG teams, and possibly personnel from Peterson Air Force Base. Help would come, just not in that form.
Upon return of the ground convoy of Stryker's to Joint Base MacArthur, many of the evacuee's were placed aboard one of several Puddle Jumpers. In the interest of security, and because no one knew what was going on, all rescued governmental officials would be transported to one of several Littoral Combat Ships currently steaming towards the capital. Jonas Quinn, disregarding this directive entirely, instead opted to remain on MacArthur.
As day turned into late afternoon, the men and women of Joint Base MacArthur steeled themselves for the long haul. Thankfully, on a few sporadic crazed individuals attempted to approach the base's perimeter. These were easily dealt with, using fire hoses, and non-lethal sonic weaponry. Evacuees rescued from the fray within the city were moved into available quarters, and provided with a change of clothing and meal. Smoke cast a din over the Langaran capital city, as late afternoon turned to dusk.
Helicopters of the Langaran military, each equipped with a sling loaded water bucket, attempted to combat the fires raging throughout the city. A single large pillar of smoke and fire marred the air above the Langaran Capital Building. Several hours earlier, rioters had finally gained entrance, and set the seat of Langaran government ablaze. Mindless of the danger, rioters gathered around the blazing building in throngs. For many blocks in all directions, small fires within buildings and automobiles similarly burned. Weaving its way through the crumbling edifice of the Langaran cityscape, a lone ice cream truck meandered from street to street, with a long stream of rioters in pursuit.
After much arguing and cajoling, Jonas Quinn was finally shown into the underground complex housing the Directorate of Planning Training, Mobilization, and Security. Upon entering the large room, Jonas gasped at the sight before his eyes. A heavy cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air, and the mood within the room was clearly not bright and cheery. On faces of the DPTMS staff, unease was clear to see.
"Mr. Quinn, I am Sergeant Major Alvarez. I wish we could have met under better circumstances." Alvarez offered in greeting.
"I would much rather be here now, than still in the city. Any developments since our arrival?" Jonas asked.
"A few, and none of them good. It would help if we even knew what caused this mess." Alvarez moaned.
"I might be able to help on that end." Jonas offered, while reaching in his pocket.
From his pocket, Jonas extracted a tissue wrapped frosted Mimi. Laying this on the table, Jonas pointed at the pastry. Alvarez, arching an eyebrow, looked first at the pastry, then back to Jonas, and finally back again to the pastry.
"No thanks." Alvarez apologized.
"I am not offering it to you Sergeant Major. That, if my suspicions are correct, is the cause of all this." Jonas countered.
"Let's you and I pretend for a moment, that I haven't been dealing with crisis after crisis today, ok? If you would Mr. Quinn, explain this for me." Alvarez suggested.
"Call me Jonas. Every morning, Mimi's are delivered to the Capital Building. While all Mimi's are essentially alike, Mimi's from different bakeries have a different taste. It is all in the frosting." Jonas explained.
"While I appreciate this journey through donut history Jonas, is this going somewhere?" Alvarez questioned.
"This morning, nothing in Government House was out of the ordinary, until the riots took hold. My staff, and the office next to ours, barricaded ourselves in our suite. After several hours, one staffer grabbed a Mimi from a box on a filing cabinet. Before anyone could grab one for themselves, this particular staffer devoured the entire box. When he could not find any more, he became violent, irrational, and uncontrollable. We ended up locking him in a storage closet." Jonas recounted.
Before Sergeant Major Alvarez could formulate a reply, the telltale visual and audible signature of an Asgard transport beam filled the room. As the silver light illuminating the room subsided, all saw the form of an Asgard.
"Greetings." The Asgard began.
"Which one are you?" Alvarez asked.
"I am Loki. General Carter requested the High Council dispatch vessels to come to your aid. In response, the High Council dispatched a science vessel under my command, and two Hala Class warships." Loki stated.
"Your arrival is certainly welcome." Alvarez conceded.
"On behalf of my government, and my people, welcome to Langara." Jonas Quinn said sincerely.
"My understanding is an uprising has occurred." Loki began.
"That would be putting it mildly." Alvarez sneered.
"Calling this event an uprising would mean the populace is announcing their unhappiness with something in general. Those rampaging through the streets are not unhappy, they are out of control. I believe an external factor is to blame." Jonas argued.
"What would lead you to believe an external factor is to blame?" Loki questioned.
"With my own eyes, I watched as a normally calm man consumed one of these, and was driven to madness." Jonas explained, while handing the Mimi to Loki.
"If what you say is true, this would be a troubling explanation for the sudden rash of violence. I will analyze this item, to determine if any ingredient could have caused dramatic psychological reactions. One thing concerns me greatly through." Loki worried.
"What would that be?" Jonas asked.
"If an outside group managed to place a reactive substance in your food supply, this would represent an overt act of war." Loki stated.
"Let's get the donut analyzed, and go from there." Alvarez urged.
"My findings I will make known to you the moment my analysis is complete. For now, I must go." Loki said in farewell.
The departure of Loki allowed those within DPTMS to return to the myriad of duties and tasks facing them. Jonas Quinn, ever helpful, provided insight to those in need, as it applied to the city itself. While this information was helpful to an extent, it was the always positive outlook of Jonas that did the most to reassure those within DPTMS. Sometimes, a simple smile can change a world. In the world of DPTMS, this was so.
Having returned to the science vessel under his command, Loki immediately began his analysis of the fritter in question. Examining it closely, Loki wondered how a race could believe such an object to be appealing to consume. Pushing these thoughts aside, Loki laid the Mimi on a small scanning platform. Tapping in a series of commands, while moving a control stone near the platform, a pale blue energy beam washed over the pastry. Beginning first with surface scans, and moving on to scans of the inner structure of the Mimi, the powerful Asgard scanners found nothing. Focusing scans to a molecular level, the scans continued. For fifteen minutes, incredible amounts of computing power available aboard the science vessel ran hundreds of complex simulation models.
Each of these models had two factors. The first was a simulated human being, based on Langaran physiology. Adding to that, the second factor modeled the simulated human's response to chemical compounds within the Mimi. As the simulations ran, the overwhelming fact that Mimi's were not good for consumption became entirely apparent. This served to confirm Loki's initial wonder about the pastry. An audible chime rang out, as a holographic display screen suddenly appeared before Loki, displaying the findings of complex modeling and analysis. The verdict? Kassa.
Multitasking, Loki first sent a data burst containing his findings to the DPTMS staff on the planet below. As this stream of data transmitted, Loki began examining the structure of the reactive psycho stimulant present within Kassa, and its effects on human physiology and body chemistry. His many years of unauthorized research on humans, in the hope of finding the key to prevent the now cured Asgard genetic degradation, gave Loki a unique knowledge base for the task at hand. While Loki admitted that Kassa contained a powerful, and therefore dangerous chemical compound, the compound represented a brute force approach to a pre-selected outcome. Had this chemical used finesse to achieve its aims slowly, it would have proved a much more difficult compound to work around. Instead of a dagger, the chemical, which made Kassa so addictive and dangerous, used a broadsword approach. To Loki, this smacked of sloppy science, created by a lesser mind.
Understanding the cause of the uprising, Loki next busied himself to find a way to combat it. While the powerful transport beaming system could be used to isolate and remove the chemical compound within those exposed, this idea came with an element of danger. Due to the addictive nature of the chemical, sudden removal could serve to kill or harm those exposed, upon the removal of the chemical from their bodies. The fact that the chemical was no longer present in great quantity within the bodies of the rioters, having been metabolized, made this idea a nonstarter.
In order to defeat the effects of the reactive psycho stimulant, Loki theorized that one would need to turn the bodies own defenses against the chemical. If an immune system response could be generated, the body would not only beat back the chemical, but also develop an immunity of sorts. Believing this to be the most logical course to pursue, Loki then focused on a delivery method. Introduction of an antidote to the water supply would do little, as the sensors of the science vessel showed rioters on the streets below nearing dehydration, due to their ingestion of water. Direct injection would work, but the timeline needed for such a plan was far too great in the face of events as they unfolded. That left airborne delivery. This method of delivery came with the added side effect, that if the antidote was scattered at altitude within Langara's atmosphere, the entire planets population would be exposed, and develop an immunity. This would safeguard against a second outbreak elsewhere on Langara.
Putting the onboard systems to work on finding the most viable delivery modality for an airborne introduction of the antidote, Loki focused on the antidote itself. On holographic display screens, molecular models of complex compounds stood before Loki's eyes. In under an hour, the antidote's design, and testing in a simulated computer environment, was complete. A delivery system was also found, and Loki directed the secondary matter stream creation suite aboard to begin production of elements needed for the task. The primary matter stream creation suite activated as well, tasked with the creation of large amounts of the antidote itself.
Contacting those within DPTMS, Loki informed those present of his plan. As he explained his findings, and the order of events that must transpire, stores of the antidote and examples of the delivery method were transported to the MacArthur airfield. While coordination with the Langaran Air Force would have been welcome, the aircraft they used lacked the range, speed, and altitude ceiling for the coming task.
Within large hangers and aircraft revetments, F-302's and FB-302's were outfitted with three large external tanks apiece. Created aboard the Asgard science vessel, these tanks were designed to mount easily with the Tau'ri craft. In total, MacArthur was home to sixty five of the sleek spacecraft. Each of these would be used in the coming evolution. Crew chiefs stood by their individual aircraft, as two thousand gallons of liquid antidote was pumped into each of the external tanks. Two hours later, each aircraft and its flight crew were ready for launch.
In elements of five aircraft apiece, the assorted 302's took to the skies above. Each of these five ship elements were assigned an area of responsibility at places around the planet of Langara. Though these craft moved swiftly, an hour was needed before some reached their distant areas of responsibility. During this time, Loki made use of the matter stream creation suite again, to create the secondary portion of his plan. Hundreds of frozen blocks of antidote, covered in a polymer coating, appeared. Readying himself, Loki locked his transporters on each of these frozen blocks, and selected destinations for each.
Reaching their designated areas of responsibility, 302's around the world began the airborne dispersal of Loki's antidote. Streams of vapor trailed from first the centerline tank. As this centerline tank emptied, the tank to the left and right of the centerline began slowly dumping their contents. These trails of vapor, dumped into the Langaran skies, soon scattered. Traveling on wind currents, the droplets of antidote slowly fell towards the ground below. As the 302's set course for their return trip to MacArthur, frozen blocks of antidote materialized in the upper atmosphere of Langara. Gaining speed as they plummeted towards the ground below, atmospheric friction began to heat these blocks. External polymer coatings burned away, and these Asgard created meteors trailed long streams of atomized antidote. Within twelve hours, all present on the world of Langara would become immune to the reactive psycho stimulant of Kassa as a result.
As the antidote wafted down to those rioting in the Langaran capital's streets, the fervor of their uprising began to wane. Exhaustion quickly set in, as those rioting had been on a constant rampage for the better part of eighteen straight hours. The effects of exhaustion, compounded by dehydration, began to drop rioters in their tracks. Later, each of these fast asleep individuals would be picked up my medical service personnel.
The rays of dawn began to sweep over the Langaran capital. Charred, scared, and in tatters, the capital had seen better days. While headway against the raging fires had been gained, smoke would continue to rise from burned out buildings for several days. Over the next day and night, the full extent casualties from this event would be realized, with sadness and despair tempered by anger. High above the battered city, dozens of C-142 Nimbus transport's descended towards the MacArthur airfield. After the fact, the Ready Brigade of the 82nd Airborne Division had arrived.
At the main gate of Joint Base MacArthur, gate guards looked at the small vehicle slowly approaching. Looking at each other in confusion, they wondered if they were hearing 'Pop goes the weasel'. Maneuvering through the offset barricades erected the day before; the vehicle came to a stop beside two armed sentries.
"The base is under lockdown." A sentry stated.
"Next you are going to tell me my ice cream truck doesn't have the right sticker." The driver responded.
"Good point. You don't have the right sticker." The sentry agreed.
"I got left behind during the ground convoy movement. This ice cream truck, without the proper sticker, saved the day! Only in the Army can you lead rioters on the chase to end all chases, in an ice cream truck, on another planet!" The member of sniper team seven bellowed.
Looking at each other in confusion, the two sentries looked at one another. Wordlessly, both racked their minds to figure out what to do about this situation. As they began to bicker, the driver of the ice cream truck handed them both a delicious frozen treat.
"You two can continue to argue. I'm taking my ice cream truck to the barracks, and this boy is going to bed." The exhausted member of sniper team seven proclaimed.
Holding a popsicle in his hands, the higher ranking of the two sentries made up his mind. Lifting the gate, he waved the ice cream truck and its occupant through. Looking at the other sentry, the higher ranking of the two saw the confusion on his partners face.
"What? He gave us ice cream!" The sentry argued.