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Chapter 5
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Outer Solar System – 3 Months Later
USS Prometheus limped slowly into the sol system, her drives damaged, her weapons off-line and a corona of debris, hull fragments and bodies surrounding the heavily damaged vessel. Even her hull showed the markings of slap-dash, hurried repairs.
It was not hard to see she had been in a fight, harder still to see if she had actually ‘won'.
Lights flickered across the ship then cut out entirely for a moment, the hyperspace portal behind the vessel blinking out of existence abruptly, almost catching the rear of the ship as it vanished.
With a grimace, Colonel Ronson leaned forward in his seat, the movement made awkward by the sling which held his right arm against his stomach, “try to raise base Lieutenant, let's see if we can't finally get some help out here
Nodding acknowledgement, the officer in question turned to his controls, “USS Prometheus to Sierra-Golf-Charlie, come in SGC.”
“Prometheus to SGC, come in please SGC.”
“No response, sir.”
With a sigh, Ronson grimly nodded his acknowledgement, “Very well, keep on trying.”
“Prometheus to SGC, come in SGC.”
“HMS Thundersdawn to Prometheus , you're coming in pretty weak, signal strength two. Stargate Command has you logged as MIA, please advise.”
He was up from his seat in a shot, glancing over the shoulder of the Lieutenant, double checking the readouts. The signal had been sent correctly… and it was encrypted. Nobody but Stargate Command should have been able to pick up the signal.
And HMS… that was a British designation, not American or Russian. Last he had heard, only those two had access to true spaceship building capabilities.
They hadn't really been gone that long, had they?
“HMS Thundersdawn , this is a restricted and encrypted channel, please identify yourself.” It wasn't a request.
The reply sounded mildly amused, but it momentarily stunned the Colonel, “Roger, this is Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second's Spacedock Facility Number 1, call-sign Thundersdawn in Mars orbit, do you require authentication at this time?”
He glanced back down at the Comm. Readouts, hiding a smile as he noted the signal trace that was already being run; a signal trace which confirmed the stated point of origin. As for authentication, well, he doubted his were up to date. He certainly didn't have anything for authenticating with the Brits in his files, that he knew for definite.
Grimacing, and wondering to himself how the limeys had managed to pull that rabbit out of the hat, Ronson replied slightly acidly, “Negative, bounce my transmission to Sierra-Golf-Charlie please.”
“Roger that, be advised you are still just signal strength two. Bouncing your transmission now.”
With a reluctant sigh, he began to speak.
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SGC
Hammond looked up startled as feedback surged momentarily through the rooms speakers, announcing to all that a transmission was inbound “Sierra-Golf-Charlie, this is Thundersdawn ; we have a bounce transmission from Prometheus for you.”
A smile lit his face for a moment, and then was rapidly replaced with a worried frown. Prometheus had returned which was good. That it had taken several months to do so was not; certainly they had been out long ago that strict rationing would have to have been enforced and that would brings its own problems.
He allowed the cheers in the control room to wash over him, as happy as he was to hear from Prometheus again, he knew in his gut it wasn't going to be quite that easy. At the very least, the ambush SG-14 had witnessed on P4X-239 would likely guarantee some casualties.
“Sierra-Golf-Charlie, This is Prometheus .”
The cheers might have gotten louder but O'Neill had just clinched it for him with his quiet ‘why a bounce transmission?'
Prometheus should have no need to bounce transmissions to them, not from within their own solar system anyways.
“This is Prometheus, we are declaring an emergency.”
That killed the cheers abruptly Hammond mused bitterly for a moment even as he reached for the radio.
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HM Spacedock Thundersdawn
The comm. Officer's hand smashed down on a protective glass covering to the right of his console, and then he jabbed at the red button within. Instantly alarms sounded through out the base, and the lights throughout the base dimmed as power was diverted to the few available weapons. Ignoring the slight thunder rumbling through the deck as the stations crew rushed to stations, he tapped the intercom on.
“GQ, all hands man General Quarters, this is not a drill, all crews to rescue stations, all crews to rescue stations, this is not a drill.”
The airlock behind him cycled open, and extra crew came crashing through, racing to their GQ stations.
“Report!” Lieutenant Peters, now a Captain, and Officer in Command of Thundersdawn barked as she strode through the airlock, throwing a uniform top over her head.
“Ma'am, USS Prometheus is inbound, and she just declared an emergency.”
“Captain has the bridge.” she announced to the room at large as she tried in vain to tie her auburn hair up out of the way, disgusted she gave it up.
Turning quickly to the comm. Officer she asked “any idea of the nature of the emergency?”
“Coming through now.”
“On speaker please.”
“…Lost at least 20 crew, some compartments still not responding, someone could be in there, we just don't know. Most likely dead by now if they are, unless they had some rations in the compartment with them.”
She reached over the comm. Officer and opened the channel,
“Thundersdawn here, any sign of a tail?”
“Negative on that, not picking anything up, but sensors are compromised as hell, we could be within weapons range of a Ha'tak and still not know it.”
“Roger that” disgustedly, she closed the channel.
Great, that meant they would have to maintain battlestations for hours until she knew Prometheus hadn't been followed, which would tire her people out even more, slow down the construction and if any attack did come, well in truth they would be up the creek without a paddle. Unlike some i.e. the Americans, they didn't have advanced weapons systems. Thundersdawn had to rely on her armour, her launchers for missiles which hadn't arrived yet and her pulse lasers which would be of no use against warships, only against fighters and missiles.
Shaking her head, she turned to the comm. Officer appraisingly. She had been looking for a competent Executive officer (Exec) after the last one failed medical; maybe she didn't have to look any further?
Her mind made, she said “Good work and right decision taking us straight to GQ, rescue stations. You're now Exec, now tell me what we have available.”
“Ah, yes, ah” the comm. Officer was surprised but he quickly rallied “Tugs 1-5-5 and 1-5-1 are docked, all 1-4 series craft are down for bug-fixes, and replacement of the heat-resistant time, they won't be available for at least 48hours, all bar 1-4-6 are on earth anyway. Tugs two and four are inbound with Priority 1 supplies, ETA is only an hour, and 1-5-3 is immobile, providing power to the asteroid mining facility that's under construction.”
Peters nodded, her eyes going distant as she mentally flickered through the available option, “As soon as they arrive, I want 1-5-2 and 1-5-4 unloaded and ready to go, get the crews into 1-5-5 and 1-5-1, and move them to a suitable rendezvous ASAP!”
“Captain, We still have one of the life support modules the initial construction crews used here, what about loading Med-evac equipment into it, and using it as a lifeboat, ma'am?”
Impressed with the suggestion and pleased with her new Exec, Peters quickly replied, “Do it!”