The Rings on the weapons platform rose and a bright light depositing Colonel Larkin, Sister Helena, and Squadron Leader Fairbairn in the center, before settling into the deck of the station. Immediately Larkin and Fairbairn swung their weapons around. Not seeing any enemies, they slightly lowered their weapons. Looking around the Ring Room, the three noticed that there were two hallways on either side of the room, one to the right and one to the left.

  “Wouldn't it be helpful if the Goa’uld had signs indicating where things were on these their ships and stations?” Colonel Larkin said sarcastically.

  “Aye! That would be nice!” Fairbairn replied. She could hear a faint hum coming from the hallway on the right. “Let's try down there,” she said as she pointed. Larkin nodded and the three moved cautiously through the hallway, with Fairbairn leading the way. Larkin and Sister Helena followed. At the end of the hallway was a pair of double sliding doors made of stone. Colonel Larkin and Fairbairn stood on either side while Sister Helena went to the control panel. After finding the light right glyph on the wall, she turned it on its side and the doors opened. Cautiously and quickly Larkin and Fairbairn entered the room.

  The room was painted dark grey and devoid of any furnishings, which made Helena feel crestfallen as if they had reached a dead end. However, Fairbairn went to a yellow circular jewel along the far side wall in the room. She pressed it; The two triangular doors opened, and a third triangular chair and console emerged from the from the yellow crystal, which remained on top of the chair.

  Upon inspecting the seat and finding no booby traps, Fairbairn secured her weapon and sat down. After moving several crystals, the control console came to life. A holographic screen appeared above the console. Colonel Larkin and Sister Helena stood on either side of Fairbairn.

  “Alright now, let's see what big secrets this station is hiding,” the Scott said as she moved crystals in the console to pull up a schematic at the station. It was a small pyramid shaped station with two staff cannons protruding from the bottom of the station. “The station is apparently powered by a power core made of liquid Naquadah,” Fairbairn said as she pulled up a layout of the station. “The power core is in the center of the station. According to the diagram, the power room is two and a half meters to the left of the Ring Transporter then another ten meters to the right.”

  “And this?” Larkin asked pointing to a room and ten meters by ten meters to the far right of the station.

  “It looks like an armory of sorts,” Fairbairn replied. “And it's stocked with weapons!” Larkin let out a low whistle.

  “Can you tell how much ordinance we're talking about?” Colonel Larkin asked.

  Fairbairn was able to pull up an inventory. “If I read this correctly, twenty Zats, ten Staff Weapons, two tactical Staff Weapons, two Staff Cannons and a various quality assortment of grenades and mines.”

  “Enough to equip a small force of Jaffa,” Sister Helen said.

  “Or equip a small fighting force of medieval villagers,” Larkin put in. “We'll have to have Bjornson catalog and inspect this lot.”

  “Agreed,” Fairbairn said. “He did that sort of thing at the Alpha Site. There'll be a cinch for him to…” Then out of the corner of the eye Fairbairn saw something on the monitor that caught her attention. “Now this is interesting! There are two Goa’uld shield emitter bracers in this inventory.”

  “Now that is an interesting find!” exclaimed Colonel Larkin. “The SGC has been wanting to get their hands on one of these ever since SG-1 tried to attack Apophis on the Nox home world. I want to check them out once we're done here and checking the Power Core.”

  “Sounds like a plan, sir,” Fairbairn said.”

  “Can you tell if the station's main weapons are functional?”

  “Just one moment,” the Scott replied. After moving control crystals around, she brought up the appropriate display and giving it a few moments to process it she made her verdict. “The station's main weapon is functional, sir. However, it requires a control ring to activate it.” Larkin pulled out the ring General Carter had given him before they departed. It resembled a medieval shield. It had a golden cross in the center with a red jewel on top center. In the four quadrants there were bronze-like buttons with etchings inscribed in them. He handed the ring to Fairbairn who placed it in a slot on the console. This brought up a diagnostic on the control screen.

  Fairbairn’s fingers danced across the console as she worked to decipher the system’s requirements. The holographic display shimmered, showing diagnostic results for the control ring. She glanced at Larkin and Helena, her brow furrowing as a new realization dawned. “The ring can only be activated by someone with Naquadah in their blood,” Fairbairn announced, her voice steady despite the significance of the revelation.

  Larkin stiffened, his jaw tightening. “So, the Goa’uld built this safeguard to keep control centralized,” he said grimly. “They wanted to ensure only those they trusted—or manipulated—could activate the system.” He turned toward Helena, seeking her thoughts. “Do you think the Eversham ritual leaders would have details in their records about this?”

  Helena nodded, though hesitation flickered in her expression. “It’s possible, sir. Father Anselm may allow me to review their texts.”

  “Good. We’ll need answers fast. Fairbairn, do we have any other way to bypass this safeguard?” Larkin’s voice was clipped, pragmatic.

  “I could try overriding the Naquadah settings,” Fairbairn replied, though the doubt in her voice was apparent. “But I can’t guarantee the ring will function properly afterward.”

  Before Larkin could respond, Helena raised her hand tentatively, her expression pained yet resolute. “Colonel,” she began softly, then forced the rest out before fear could silence her, “I have Naquadah in my blood.”

  Fairbairn blinked in surprise, her curiosity piqued. “Helena, how’s that possible?”

  Helena hesitated, drawing strength from the rosary she clutched. “When I was with the Rogue NID, I... volunteered for an experiment,” she confessed, her voice heavy with regret. “They wanted to use Goa’uld technology without blending with a symbiote. I hoped it might help me use the healing device, though Colonel Galli clearly had other plans. He wanted me to wield the Kara-kesh.”

  Fairbairn’s eyes softened with a flicker of understanding. “And the experiment succeeded?”

  “To a degree,” Helena replied, her tone darkening. “Using Goa’uld technology triggers severe headaches for me—crippling ones. It became so unbearable that they prescribed an inhibitor to block the Naquadah’s effects.”

  Fairbairn tilted her head. “Do you know why it caused such a reaction?”

  Helena hesitated again, but then nodded. “Doctor Lam informed me recently that I have the ATA gene—and a strong version of it, apparently. I’ve begun to suspect that the Naquadah in my blood reacts negatively with the ATA gene. It might explain the allergic-like response every time I try to interface with Goa’uld technology.”

  Fairbairn gave her a thoughtful nod, her professional curiosity surfacing. “That’s... fascinating, albeit distressing. Have you talked to Doctor Lam about this?”

  “I plan to when we report in,” Helena said with a weak smile. “If the Rogue NID left me with anything, it’s mysteries I’m still unraveling.”

  Larkin, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke, his voice measured and cool. “And you believe this connection could allow you to activate the control ring?”

  Helena nodded again. “It should. But I’ve never used anything like this before.”

  Fairbairn offered Helena a reassuring smile. “If you’re willing to try, we’ll back you up. You’re not alone in this.”

  Helena’s heart lifted slightly at Fairbairn’s words, though she could still feel Larkin’s watchful gaze on her. His posture betrayed nothing, but she could sense the unease lurking behind his composed exterior.

  Larkin finally broke the tense silence. “We’ll exhaust every other option first, but if it comes down to it, we may need you to step in, Sister. I trust you’ll act in the best interest of the mission.”

  “Yes, sir,” Helena replied, her voice steadier now. She clutched her rosary tightly, whispering a silent prayer for guidance and strength.

  Fairbairn resumed working at the console, leaving Helena and Larkin to a moment of uneasy silence. When their eyes met briefly, Helena caught a flicker of acknowledgment from him—of her honesty, if not yet her trustworthiness. She silently vowed to prove herself, not through words but through her actions.

  Larkin turned to Fairbairn. “Is there anything else we can do?”

  “Aye,” Fairbairn replied. “The weapons platform form can be used as a planetary shield. However, there is a massive drain on the stations liquid Naquadah supply when used.”

  “I suppose that if there was a siege of the planet by one of Sokar’s enemies, his Jaffa might bring up some extra liquid Naquadah with them,” Sister Helena observed.

  “Good observation, Sister,” Larkin said. He leaned over to Fairbairn. “Can you tell us about the planet itself?”

  Fairbairn worked her magic with the console. She shook her head. “I don't seem to have that crystal with me here at the console, sir.”

  “That's alright, said Larkin. “Perhaps that crystal is down on the planet somewhere.”

  “Indeed,” Fairbairn said.

  Fairbairn's sharp intake of breath cut through the quiet hum of the console. “Sir, we’ve got a critical problem,” she announced, her voice steady but laced with urgency. “There’s an anti-tampering program running. If I don’t disable it, the power core will overload, taking the station—and us—with it.”

  Larkin’s face tightened, his calm under pressure guiding the moment. “How much time do we have?” he demanded, already calculating backup plans.

  Fairbairn’s fingers darted across the console as data scrolled rapidly on the holographic screen. “Three minutes—maybe less.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Can you disarm it?” Larkin asked, keeping his tone sharp and direct.

  Fairbairn didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have to slice it manually.” Her brow furrowed, and she exhaled deeply, steadying her focus.

  “Do it,” Larkin ordered, then glanced at Helena. “Sister, if you’ve got any prayers left, now’s the time.”

  Helena met his gaze, her lips forming a faint but resolute smile. “Already ahead of you, Colonel,” she replied, her hands clasping her cross briefly before she returned her attention to the moment. Under her breath, a quiet plea escaped her: “St. Michael, lend us your strength.”

  Fairbairn worked with precision, her fingers moving over the console like a maestro conducting an orchestra. The hum from the core grew louder, amplifying the stakes with every passing second. Larkin's grip on his weapon tightened, his eyes darting between the console and the hallway, ready for the worst.

  “Thirty seconds!” Fairbairn exclaimed, sweat beading on her brow. She leaned closer to the display, her concentration absolute. Larkin braced himself, preparing to issue the evacuation order. Helena, beside him, closed her eyes momentarily, her lips moving in silent prayer.

  Then—a beep. Fairbairn's hands froze as the countdown halted. Relief washed over her like a wave. “System disabled, sir!” she announced breathlessly, slumping back in her seat.

  Larkin exhaled a deep sigh, the tension releasing from his shoulders. He placed a firm hand on Fairbairn’s shoulder. “Excellent work,” he said, his gratitude genuine.

  Helena whispered a prayer of thanksgiving before joining Fairbairn at the console. Fairbairn’s hands moved quickly once more, setting a new access password to secure the system. “There—only we can use this now,” she declared as she logged out.

  With the crisis averted, Larkin nodded toward the next goal. “Let’s move to the Power Core—and then the Armory,” he ordered. The team readied their weapons, their determination renewed as they headed for their next objective.

  “Let's head to the Power Core and then on to the Armory,” said Larkin. The two women nodded and readied their weapons. They headed to the door on the left and made their way to the Power Core; they passed the Armory on the way. As they rounded the bend, Colonel Larkin heard a faint hum. He ordered a halt with his hand and the two women stopped.

  The faint hum grew louder as Larkin led his team through the winding corridor. He raised his hand, signaling a halt. Slowly and deliberately, he crept forward, his P90 ready. The source of the sound came into view—a sleek, spherical machine hovering eerily just above the floor. Its metallic tentacle-like appendages twitched as if sensing its prey, and a glowing yellow sensor swept the area in rhythmic pulses.

  Larkin's stomach knotted. “Recon drone!” he barked. “Defensive positions!”

  The drone reacted instantly, firing rapid plasma bursts. Larkin and Fairbairn ducked behind cover while Helena stumbled to find refuge. Micro explosions showered sparks across the corridor as the drone advanced, relentless in its pursuit.

  Larkin’s mind raced through SG mission reports—Zat blasts could breach shields, but timing had to be perfect. “Helena!” he shouted, urgency tightening his voice. “Zat it, now!”

  Helena hesitated, gripping her Zat tightly as anxiety surged through her veins. Summoning resolve, she muttered, “St. Nuno, protect me.” She stepped out of cover and aimed, squeezing the trigger. A brilliant arc of blue energy struck the drone, disabling its shield with an audible crackle.

  “Fire!” Larkin and Fairbairn shouted in unison, unleashing a flurry of bullets from their P90s. The drone spasmed, then plummeted to the deck with a deafening thud, its metallic core sparking feebly.

  Helena staggered back, adrenaline coursing through her. “What... was that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  Larkin exhaled sharply, scanning the drone. “A Goa’uld version of an Imperial Probe Droid. And trust me—this is far deadlier.”

  The two soldiers breathed a sigh of relief, but Helena was still breathing hard. “Calm yourself, Helena. It's over,” she told her self. Sister Helena slowed her breathing, praying part of Psalm 91:

  It is he who will free you from the snare

  of the fowler who seeks to destroy you;

  he will conceal you with his pinions

  and under his wings you will find refuge.

  You will not fear the terror of the night

  nor the arrow that flies by day,

  nor the plague that prowls in the darkness

  nor the scourge that lays waste at noon.

  A thousand may fall at your side,

  ten thousand fall at your right,

  you, it will never approach;

  his faithfulness is buckler and shield.

  Once she was ready she gave a nod to Colonel Larkin.

  “Stay sharp and look alive, people. We don't know how many of those drones are left on the station.” Helena and Fairbairn nodded and the trio continued on their way.

  Fairbairn leaned over to Helena. “Nicely done,” she whispered. Helena nodded. They made their way to the power room without incident. Finding a new console terminal, Fairbairn went to it and logged in with while Larkin and Helena admired the Naquadah core. The greenish liquid glowed in the large vat in the center of the room.

  Fairbairn went to work on the console. Just as the in the control room she worked at magic, her fingers flying at the controls. “The capacity of the tank is at forty-five percent. We may have maybe thirty stun shots left, fifteen kill shots, and ten or so disintegration shots. We do not have enough to shield the planet,” Fairbairn said.

  “Could we get more liquid Naquadah to replenish the supply?” Larkin asked.

  Fairbairn’s voice carried across the room as she worked the console with practiced ease. “We could source more liquid Naquadah to replenish the supply,” she suggested, tapping a glowing crystal. “The Langarians have the ability to process and provide exactly what we need.”

  Helena froze mid-step, the name Langara echoing like a sharp bell in her mind. A cascade of memories surged forward—the technology she had stolen, the lies she had spun, all under Colonel Galli’s coercion during her Rogue NID days. Her heart clenched painfully. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Her whispered prayer barely reached her lips as she pressed her trembling hand against her chest.

  Fairbairn glanced up from the console, her sharp eyes catching the subtle shift in Helena’s demeanor. “Helena, are you alright?” she asked gently, her voice tinged with concern.

  Helena nodded stiffly, avoiding Fairbairn’s gaze. “It’s nothing, Squadron Leader,” she murmured, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her unease.

  Fairbairn frowned, unconvinced. She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “If it’s about the Langarians, you can talk to me. We’re a team.”

  Before Helena could respond, Larkin’s firm voice cut through. “Fairbairn, let’s keep focus on the mission. We don’t have time for distractions,” he said, his tone even but his eyes flicked toward Helena with suspicion. He wasn’t unkind, but his distrust of her ran deep, rooted in the pain caused by the Rogue NID—the very organization that had taken his brother’s life.

  Helena swallowed hard, glancing between her concerned teammate and the steadfast Colonel. Gathering her courage, she found her voice. “I... when I was with the Rogue NID, I... betrayed the Langarians. I stole their technology. It was wrong—terribly wrong—and I live with that guilt every day.” Her voice cracked, the confession like tearing open an old wound.

  Fairbairn offered Helena a kind smile. “The past doesn’t define you, Helena. What matters is how you’ve chosen to move forward. And today, you’ve shown nothing but courage.”

  Helena’s grip on her rosary tightened, her chest swelling with gratitude. But as her eyes met Larkin’s, the cold edge of his expression reminded her that trust was earned, not given.

  Before the moment could linger, Helena’s sharp instincts kicked in as a eerie hum returned just as the team exited the power room. Helena froze mid-step, her instincts flaring. “Down!” she shouted, diving behind cover. Fairbairn slammed herself against the console as Larkin lunged behind the glowing Naquadah core.

  The drone erupted into the room, plasma bursts narrowly missing Larkin. One shot grazed his arm, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain. Helena’s pulse quickened as she steadied her Zat. With trembling hands, she aimed and fired. A crackling pulse disabled the shield once more, the drone’s movements faltering briefly.

  “Now!” Larkin yelled, clutching his wounded arm but still resolute. Fairbairn popped out of cover, her P90 roaring as the Colonel joined her. The drone shuddered under the barrage, finally collapsing in a heap of sparking metal.

  Fairbairn moved to inspect the remains while Helena sprang into action, unhooking her pack and retrieving the first aid kit. Kneeling beside Larkin, she worked swiftly, applying antiseptic and bandaging his arm with practiced ease.

  “Just a flesh wound,” she assured him, her tone calm despite the residual adrenaline in her system.

  Larkin winced but managed a smile. “I’ve endured worse. You handled yourself well, Sister.”

  Helena nodded, her confidence bolstered by his praise. Fairbairn rejoined them, her expression grim. “No telling how many more of these drones are still lurking,” she warned.

  The trio rose, weapons ready, determination steeling their nerves as they pressed on through the station. Moving quickly the team doubled back to the Armory to look at the cache of Goa’uld weapons. They took one of the shield emitters with them and returned to the Ring Room. Fairbairn pressed the buttons on the adjoining console on the wall and quickly joined her teammates on the platform. The Rings descended, enveloping Colonel Larkin, Sister Helena, and Squadron Leader Fairbairn in a cascade of bright light before depositing them in the center of the cave. As the glow faded, Larkin instinctively swung his weapon around, scanning for potential threats. Beside him, Fairbairn mirrored his movements, her sharp eyes darting over the dim surroundings. Seeing no immediate danger, they lowered their weapons slightly.

  Bjornson approached, his sturdy figure emerging from the shadows. “Welcome back, Colonel, ladies,” he greeted warmly. His gaze fell on the bandage on Larkin's arm. “What happened, sir? You alright?”

  Larkin adjusted his tactical vest, dismissing the injury with a wave. “Just a nick from a Goa’uld recon drone. Nothing serious.”

  Bjornson’s concern lingered for a moment before he nodded. “Glad to hear it. How was the station?”

  Fairbairn stepped forward, her excitement barely contained. “We uncovered some fascinating finds. The weapons cache is impressive—Zats, staff weapons, grenades, even Goa’uld shield emitter bracers.”

  Bjornson raised a brow. “Shield emitters? The SGC will want a detailed report on those.”

  “They’ll get it,” Larkin assured him. “And there’s more—a liquid Naquadah-powered planetary shield system and fully functional staff cannons. The platform is formidable, but it’ll need resupply to operate sustainably.”

  Bjornson nodded thoughtfully, his attention shifting back to Larkin. “How long were you up there?”

  “Just over an hour,” Fairbairn replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

  “Not bad,” Bjornson said with a smile.

  The team began covering their tracks as they moved away from the cave, the sunlight piercing through as they emerged into the field. The blinding brightness forced them to pause, Plato’s allegory of the cave flashing briefly through Helena’s mind. As their eyes adjusted, they continued, disguising any signs of their presence before halting to rest near a rocky outcrop.

  Larkin scanned the horizon, his tactical instincts never resting. “How’s everyone holding up?” he asked, his voice steady but concerned.

  Fairbairn grinned, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Still standing, Colonel. You’re stuck with me for the long haul.”

  Helena offered a small smile, her fingers briefly brushing her rosary. “I’m alright, sir. Grateful for the quiet moment.”

  Satisfied, Larkin nodded. “Good. We’ve got time to recon the village before heading back to the monastery. Let’s take five, then move out.”

  The team settled onto the rocks, munching on granola bars and beef sticks. Helena gazed across the field, her thoughts lingering on the events aboard the station—on Larkin’s trust, Fairbairn’s kindness, and the battles fought against the drones. Her heart swelled with quiet resolve.

  The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Sister Helena made observations of the terrain as SG-24 circumnavigated the village. Finally, after a long day in the field the four returned to the monastery tired but triumphant in completing their quest for the day.

  After checking their weapons and weapons locker they retreated to their new quarters in the monastery’s dormitory. The team moved their personal gear into their quarters. Sister Helena assembled her cot and spread blankets and a bed roll over. Tere was a small abandoned bookshelf and several tables in the room. Sister Helena put her books on the shelf and used one of the tables for a prayer corner. As she completed her chore, there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” Sister Helena said. The door opened and Fairbairn entered.

  “Hello, Sister. Am I disturbing you?” the Scott asked.

  “Not at all, Fairbairn,” the Carmelite replied.

  “I just wanted to say that you did great on the weapons station. You showed a lot of courage in Zating the Recon Drones, especially the second one. You were brilliant!”

  “Thank you, Squadron Leader,” Sister Helen replied. That means a lot to me.”

  “I know we've only known each other for a couple of days but, but you can call me Isolde or Izzy for short.”

  “Thank you Fair... er, Izzy,” Sister Helena said. Fairbairn smiled.

  “How are you holding up?” Fairburn asked.

  “Well, though I could use some time to pray,” Sister Helena replied.

  “Good to hear,” Fairbairn replied.

  “How's the Colonel doing?” Helena asked.

  “He's doing well, but I'll ask Bjornson to give him the scan with the Asgard Medical Scanner to make sure. He wants us all to play some poker this evening after chow.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Tell him I'll be there.”

  “Are you planning to bring some divine intervention?”

  Sister Helena chuckled “We'll see!”

  “Good. Because I've heard that the Colonel is a card shark.”

  “I'll keep that in mind, Izzy,” Sister Helen replied.

  “Good. I'll leave you to your prayers,” Fairbairn said. “Chow will be in an hour.” Helena nodded and Fairbairn left the room and closed the door.

  Sister Helena knelt by her prayer corner, lit some candles and opened her breviary. After taking some time to clear her mind that the day’s events. Once she was ready, she stood and made the Sign of the Cross.

  “God, come to my assistance...”