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It was a Goa’uld Ring Transporter.
“Bless me bagpipes!” Fairbairn exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and awe.
“How long do you think this has been here?” Bjornson wondered aloud.
“No idea,” Larkin admitted. “But now we know how these dissidents are receiving supplies.”
“Could Sokar have installed the rings to service a Goa’uld weapons platform?” Helena speculated.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Larkin replied, turning to Fairbairn. Isolde pulled a tablet from her backpack and connected it to the transporter’s control crystal interface. After running diagnostics, she announced her findings.
“It’s fully functional. The coordinates indicate a connection to the weapons platform, though there’s a set of inactive coordinates as well.”
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Fairbairn looked over, eyebrows raised. “Say something, Sister?”
Helena met her eyes. “Just a prayer.” A familiar hum filled the chamber as the rings rose and stacked into place.
“Do you have joy without a cause,” Helena whispered, “Yea, faith without a hope?”
“See you topside,” Bjornson said as a bright light enveloped the three. The rings descended.
Silence settled over the cave.
Helena met his gaze with quiet certainty. “I’ve walked cloister corridors darker than this cave. I don’t carry fear—I carry faith.” Her voice was steady, her conviction unwavering. She glanced at Larkin and Fairbairn. “Besides… I’m part of this team.”
Something about her words unsettled Larkin, but he couldn’t help but respect her resolve. Fairbairn and Bjornson exchanged knowing smiles.
“Then let’s ring up,” Larkin said. “Eyes open, weapons tight—no unnecessary chatter.” As Fairbairn keyed in the coordinates and the rings began to hum, Helena adjusted her Zat at her side and glanced upward, instinctively reaching for her scapular medal beneath her undershirt.
She whispered to herself, barely audible over the building energy: “The men of the East may spell the stars,/ And times and triumphs mark./ But the men signed of the cross of Christ/ Go gaily in the dark…”
“Switching to infrared,” Fairbairn murmured. The screen shifted to a reddish hue as she panned the camera around the chamber. “No signs of life. Atmosphere is viable.”
“Copy,” Colonel Larkin acknowledged. He turned to Bjornson. “Stay here and keep watch. If you don’t hear from us in two hours, return to the gate and call for reinforcements.”
“Understood, sir,” Bjornson replied, his stance firm.
“Fairbairn, Helena—you’re with me,” Larkin ordered, stepping into the inner circle of the platform.
“Bjornson, hold the line if you have to—but don’t be a hero,” he added.
Bjornson smirked, his grip tightening on his weapon. “No promises, sir.”
Larkin and Fairbairn checked their P90s one last time. Larkin turned to Fairbairn, who gave him a crisp nod. Then, his gaze fell on Sister Helena as she tucked her notebook into a secure pouch and gently drew her Zat.
“You sure about this, Sister? No backing out after we beam up to a potential Goa’uld death trap,” Larkin quipped.
“Deploy the Mini-MALP,” Larkin instructed. Fairbairn positioned the compact probe at the center of the ring transporter. After inputting commands on her tablet, the rings emerged in a synchronized motion, stacking neatly on top of each other. A beam of light enveloped the Mini-MALP, and with a final hum, the rings descended, leaving an eerie silence in their wake.
“Will this work?” Sister Helena asked. “It should,” Fairbairn replied. “The Invincible successfully tested the Mini-MALP using the Ring Transporter at the Ancient Outpost in Antarctica. As long as the target is at least in high planetary orbit, we should receive telemetry.”
At that moment, her tablet emitted a sharp beep. “Receiving Mini-MALP telemetry… now.” The team gathered around, eyes locked on the screen. The feed displayed nothing but darkness.
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A magnificent installment with magnificent images! The characters feel alive, you've kept their 'voice' consistent, which is often hard to do in a long running series. 10/10 brother.