Choices:

  Recruit School.

  Cate and James had accepted the reality—they wouldn’t be getting back to their respective ships anytime soon. Instead, they found themselves assigned accommodations, which turned out to be quite the surprise. Space was in short supply, and the rooms, once designed for perhaps two adults, now housed anywhere between four and six people. “This is sector 12b.” the youngster told Cate and James, as if it meant something important. “Everyone of us is assigned to accommodation sectors, so we know where everyone is. If you’re not on duty, please remain within your sector.” The girl was no more than eleven and here she was ordering a pair of adults about.

  “Wow!” James exclaimed, his ever-present smile, broad across his face. “I’d hate to marry her, could you imagine how bossy she’s gonna be when she gets older?”

  Turning her head slightly, blonde hair falling from her shoulder, reminded Cate she needed to get it cut soon. “Nothing wrong with bossy in a woman!” She quipped. “How else are we going to keep you men in line?” All James could do was just stare at her as if she had two heads. It did make him grin a little wider.

  “This is a joke, right?” James had muttered when they first walked into their respective rooms. That was thirty minutes ago.

  Cate had given him a knowing smirk. “Welcome to the chaos.” The Aussie saw things a little differently. “Think of it this way Jimbo, this will give you and insight to your future. Or turn you off ever wanting to have kids.” Her laughter was infectious.

  What followed was an absolute rollercoaster of a situation—two seasoned military officers thrown into a dormitory with a group of energetic, disciplined, but undeniably youthful recruits.

  Cate’s new quarters placed her with three teenage girls—two fourteen-year-olds and a sixteen-year-old. From the start the three girls glued themselves to the much older woman. Whether it was her seemingly youthful looks, Cate couldn’t answer to that. These three simply adopted her as a big sister from the start and treated her as much. The first shock was when fourteen-year-old Wynn casually wondered into the bathroom and began chatting with Cate nonchalantly while she was having a shower. As if it was nothing out of the ordinary. The sweetest thing though was their never-ending curiosity about her. Wanting to know everything, from where she grew up, her schooling and most importantly, her boyfriends.

  “You are just so beautiful.” Said Tyra, the other fourteen-year-old. “Surely you had a lot of boyfriends. Or at least a lot of boys wanting to be with you.”

  Cate looked at each girl one by one. They were all sitting on the floor cross legged, she’d only been with them an hour. “Well…” She started awkwardly. “…not really. I was one those kids we call geeks back on Earth. You know, ever since I was much younger than you three, I wanted to know everything. I had to read, study computers and science.” The girls sat there wide eyed. “I never really had much time for boys. Although there was one…” No, she wasn’t about to bring that memory back.

  “Aww, come on Cate, you can tell us.” Morena demanded, more like a six-year-old than the sixteen years she carried.

  Biting her bottom lip a little, then sucking in her breath, Cate did tell them. They way she told them served as a warning, don’t fall for the first boy that melts your heart, because often as she found out as an eighteen-year-old cadet at the academy, they will try to take advantage of you. The three girls much to her surprise, understood.

  James, on the other hand, found himself bunking with three fifteen-year-old boys and another sixteen-year-old. If Cate felt a little odd being a big sister to three teens, how would she have felt being addressed as Aunty? As in James’ case, he was now the official dorm uncle—not just for 11/12b, but for the whole section. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy or embarrassed about that.

  After lights-out, the boys settled into their bunks, but as expected, no one was actually going to sleep just yet. James could hear the hushed whispers between them—something about an upcoming training session, some rivalry between dorms, and then a long discussion on whose turn it was to steal extra rations from the kitchens.

  He chuckled. “Y’know, if you boys spent half as much effort on learning tactics as you do on plotting snack heists, you’d be running this place.”

  The nearest bunk creaked as Daryn, the oldest of the group, rolled onto his side. “That’s tactics, Uncle James. Gotta keep the troops fed.”

  “Oh-Ho, so now I’m Uncle James, huh?”

  “It was that or Grandpa,” one of the younger ones piped up from across the room.

  James groaned. “I’m twenty-eight. Twenty-eight! That is not old.”

  There was some muffled laughter, but the conversation shifted gears soon enough.

  “Hey, Uncle James,” said Eron, the most talkative of the bunch. “What’s Earth music like? Is it true you got millions of songs? Like... more than we could listen to in a lifetime?”

  “Something like that.” James sat up a little. “We got music from every part of the world, every culture, every style you can imagine. But me? I’m a country boy.”

  “Country?” Daryn sounded sceptical. “Like, farming songs?”

  “Not just farming—though, yeah, sometimes farming. It’s about life, love, loss… and sometimes, drinking beer on a tailgate.”

  That earned a round of confused looks.

  James sighed. “Alright, lemme think. Ah! Boot Scootin’ Boogie—now that’s a classic.”

  “Boot what?”

  “Boogie. Boot Scootin’ Boogie.”

  “Is that some kind of Earth combat manoeuvre?”

  James laughed so hard he nearly fell off his bunk. “No, but that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. It’s a song. A damn good one. Back home, they play it in bars and honky-tonks, and people get up and dance in these perfectly timed steps—line dancing, we call it.”

  The silence that followed was almost reverent.

  “You have choreographed bar fights?” Eron asked, utterly fascinated.

  James shook his head, grinning. “Not fights, dancing.”

  Daryn frowned. “But bars are where you drink and brawl, right?”

  “Only in the bad ones,” James admitted. “The good ones? You grab a partner, you two-step across the floor, and if you do it right, maybe she gives you her number at the end of the night.”

  That got a round of intrigued murmurs.

  “So, this… Boot Scootin’ Boogie song,” said one of the younger boys. “It’s about this dancing?”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Well… kinda. It’s about blowing off steam after a long work week. Work hard, play hard.” James tapped the side of his bunk thoughtfully. “Y’know, I’m gonna teach you boys some of these songs. If we’re stuck together for a while, you might as well learn how to properly cut loose.”

  There was a pause.

  “Does it involve yelling?”

  James smirked. “Some of ’em do.”

  That got an enthusiastic response, and just like that, the boys had a new reason to stay up too late learning about Earth’s finest country music. James wasn’t sure how much they’d actually take to it, but if he had any say in it, by the time he got back to Earth, there’d be a group of Vegemahan recruits singing Neon Moon under alien stars.

  But despite the initial shock, the recruits turned out to be easy to work with. These Vegemahan kids had already been instilled with a deep sense of discipline under Allienna’s tutelage.

  __________________________________________________________________________

  Revelation:

  Cate started spending a lot of time with the young woman. During one of their late-night discussions, Allienna shared pieces of her past—how she had been almost twelve when arrangements were finally made to get her out.

  “Morrigan found a family in Britain,” Allienna explained, her voice tinged with both fondness and amusement. “They didn’t need much convincing to take me in. Of course, they had no idea who I really was. Morrigan spun this whole story about her being an illegal migrant from Georgia and she needed her English born daughter to stay, while she sorted out her life back home. Complete with an accent, mind you.”

  Cate laughed. “She put that much effort into it?”

  “Oh, it gets better. She and her partner even forged documents, snuck into a government office, and had me officially registered as a British citizen. Alexandra Armstrong, born and raised.”

  Cate raised an eyebrow. “They went to all that trouble when they could have just contacted Stargate Command?”

  “Exactly.” Allienna grinned. “But Morrigan always had a flair for the dramatic.”

  The story continued—how Allienna had made her way through the British military system, getting into Sandhurst, training as a helicopter pilot, and ensuring she caught the eye of the Stargate Program’s talent scouts. She had even managed to manipulate her assignment, steering it away from Atlantis and toward an SG team instead.

  Cate shook her head. “You’ve got nerve, I’ll give you that.”

  “It worked.” Allienna shrugged. “For a while, anyway. Until PW7-25H.”

  The conversation took a more sombre turn as Allienna recounted the mission that led to her being listed as MIA. But Cate didn’t push—some wounds took longer to heal than others. She figured it for herself though, the girl must have made her way back home, her mother’s home. “One day you must tell me about the Tok’ra, all I know is from the SGC manuals.”

  “Oh, I will, I will.” Allienna assured her.

  ___________________________________________________________________________

  Partners:

  In the following days, priorities became clear. Gathering intelligence was at the top of the list. One evening, Cate sat in a quiet corner of the common room, running through a handwritten log of numbers.

  James sat down beside her, nodding toward the page. “You reading yourself a bedtime story?”

  “Just trying to make sense of it all,” Cate replied, rubbing her temple. “Alright, let’s see. Number of fifteen to sixteen-year-olds? Three thousand, five hundred.”

  James let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a lot of teenagers.”

  Cate continued, “Total number of kids in the refuge? Ten thousand, four hundred and seventy-nine.”

  James leaned back. “And we’re supposed to train them all?”

  “No, but we need to know what we’re working with.” Cate flipped the page. “The underground network is massive. I swear, I’ve gotten lost in it three times already.”

  “You? Lost?” James smirked. “I refuse to believe it.”

  Cate shot him a glare before reading aloud. “It’s the size of the city above. Some of the tunnels even use old underground rail systems. Allienna says they could shelter up to twenty thousand people if necessary.”

  “Damn.” James frowned. “And how many enemy forces are in the area?”

  “Alliance personnel?” Cate tapped her finger against the page. “Estimates put them around twenty-five to thirty thousand.”

  James exhaled. “We’re outnumbered.”

  “No kidding.” Cate flipped to another section of notes. “The population of Plaxia before the last invasion was nine hundred thousand. Two-thirds either fled or were killed. Many of the younger kids were sent to settlements on Bardika or Avilion… erm, they’re across the ocean to the west.”

  James shook his head. “War never changes.”

  Cate didn’t respond right away. She just continued reading. “Alright, let’s talk weapons. We’ve got two thousand three hundred assault rifles, four thousand automatic pistols, eight hundred and fifty light machine guns…”

  “Hold up,” James interrupted. “We’re actually listing these off like we’re checking a grocery list?”

  Cate smirked. “Want to take turns?”

  James rolled his eyes. “Fine. Heavy machine guns, about two hundred and twenty. And apparently, we’ve got enough grenades, and mortar rounds to make even the Marines nervous.”

  Cate nodded. “Artillery and armour are available, but we’re not focusing on that just yet.”

  James set the notes aside. “So, what’s next?”

  “Assessment of the recruits.” Cate sighed. “And finding leaders among them.”

  “That should be interesting.” James grinned. “Teenagers, leadership positions, and live ammunition. What could possibly go wrong?”

  ___________________________________________________________________________

  And so it begins:

  The training began, with SG-1 assisting for three days before having to depart. At the end of the first week, another message was sent to the ships, assuring them of the safety of Cate and James—this time, it was Cate who sent the transmission. After ten days, the Invincible’s senior scientist, Lindsey Novak, managed to hack the Alliance beaming jammer, allowing for more direct assistance. Additional training support came from the ship’s Marine and SF components, though the age of their new recruits was the biggest surprise.

  By the end of six weeks, Cate, James, and several officers now on hand believed that some of the recruit classes were ready to strike a blow against the Alliance. None of the adults wanted this. Discussions at length were held, many arguing how wrong it was to send children into potential death. While Cate and James had already grappled with this issue when they first arrived, it was ultimately the kids themselves who demonstrated their readiness and the necessity of their involvement. Cate was reminded of her great-grandfather, Alexander—who had faked his age to enlist in the Great War at barely fourteen years old.

  Another dilemma the Tau'ri faced was the argument aboard the three remaining ships regarding the use of orbital bombardment. The Daedalus had departed with SG-1 to garner support from the Free Jaffa, leaving the debate to unfold among the remaining crews. Elle was at the centre of it, vehemently opposing the tactic.

  “You cannot guarantee collateral damage will be kept to a minimum!” Elle shouted, standing toe-to-toe with Colonel Di Palma. “The last time someone tried this, residual radiation lasted for decades!”

  Colonel Di Palma folded his arms. “We’re not talking about glassing the entire damn planet, Commander.”

  “We shouldn’t be glassing anything! This isn’t a video game…these are people!”

  Captain Kovacs pinched the bridge of his nose. “Elle…”

  “Don’t ‘Elle’ me, Captain! You want to tell me what a directed naquadah-enhanced payload does to an urban centre? Because I can tell you!”

  Di Palma sighed. “Commander…”

  “I don’t take orders from you!” Elle snapped. “Either of you, actually! So don’t ‘Commander’ me either!”

  The room fell silent. A few officers exchanged glances, some trying to suppress grins.

  Kovacs cleared his throat. “Okay, first off, that’s not how the chain of command works—”

  “And second,” Di Palma added, “while you may be an insubordinate pain in the ass, you do have a point.”

  Elle blinked. “Wait. What?”

  “We’ll revisit the bombardment strategy. Limited strikes, strictly non-populated areas,” Kovacs said, throwing a smirk at Di Palma. “Or at least, we’ll try not to give you an aneurysm.”

  Elle huffed. “That’s all I ask.”

  __________________________________________________________________________

  In an Alliance command post miles away in one of the wealthier parts of the city, officers gathered around a tactical display.

  “The Tau'ri are coming,” one stated grimly. “We know that for certain, all these small attacks here and there, point to them.”

  The Kommandant nodded. “And we’re sending the entire battalion north to intercept them.”

  “There’s no way they can hold Plaxia,” another officer said. “Not without substantial reinforcements, how many can they land? Three hundred, five hundred at most. Their ships are not built for infantry operations.”

  “They’re desperate, to save face. They told the Vegema they would protect them, ha!” Another laughed in scorn. “And desperate enemies make mistakes.”

  A young woman in uniform sitting at a desk turned in her chair, removing the headphones she wore. Clearing her throat, she drew the attention of the gathered officers. “Sirs, the train is about to depart. They will make good time according to the yard master.”

  “Very good Dantel, send them my best wishes will you.” The senior officer told her, then returned his gaze to the maps.

  __________________________________________________________________________

  The big show:

  The mission was set. Cate and a small team—including a squad of Marines—descended from the cave an hour before dawn, moving through the rugged terrain under the cover of darkness. The valley was cold, the autumn air sharp against their skin, and the damp earth muted their footsteps. The looming winter would soon blanket the hills in snow, but for now, the forest was a mix of dying leaves and skeletal branches, casting long shadows in the moonlight.

  Captain Warren Caruso of the 4th Australian Regiment kept a wary eye on the treetops as he moved, checking his watch frequently. Cate and James did the same. Time was tight.

  Loose stones tumbled down the slope as they crept forward, someone catching themselves with a muffled curse. The sound of an owl echoed through the trees, making one of the younger recruits flinch. The bridge loomed ahead, stretching 400 metres across the valley. It was their target.

  Caruso signalled his Marines to fan out, taking up guard positions. Two squads of young fighters, their breath visible in the cold air, advanced with their explosives. Cate and James followed, watching as the recruits moved quickly but carefully, placing charges every ten metres along the bridge’s span. Some worked their way across the top, others climbed beneath the structure, securing the detonators to the supports. The tension was suffocating.

  They were nearly at the far end when Caruso’s urgent voice crackled through Cate’s radio. “Taipan, train’s ahead of schedule! You’ve got maybe three minutes!”

  Cate’s pulse spiked. “Move! Now! Get those last charges set!”

  Panic flickered across some faces. A few recruits hesitated.

  “Go! Now!” Morena’s voice cut through the fear, she urged her friends on. “You’ve got this!”

  That was all it took. The last few charges were secured in a frantic rush. The train was now just 200 metres away, its headlamp a growing beacon in the night. Steam hissed; iron wheels thundered against the tracks.

  “Fall back!” Cate shouted to those behind her.

  Subtlety was abandoned. They sprinted, hearts pounding, scrambling over rocks and dirt as the train roared closer. James grabbed a recruit who had frozen in terror, dragging him forward. The bridge trembled as the first cars rolled onto it.

  But Cate, Morena, and Tyra had no time to make it back. They were trapped on the northern side. Still under the iron and steel of the bridge.

  James turned, scanning desperately for Cate as the train roared passed his position. “Cate!” he shouted, his voice lost in the chaos.

  The first explosion detonated.

  The world went white-hot.

  The shockwave tore through the valley. A split-second later, the bridge erupted in a chain reaction of fiery blasts, the supports crumbling as steel and concrete buckled. The locomotive surged forward for an instant, then pitched violently as the structure gave way beneath it. One by one, the cars behind it followed, tumbling into the cold river below, their cargo of Alliance troops lost to the depths. The last carriage hovered on the southern end, balancing for a moment. Shouts of Alliance soldiers, trying to scramble free could be heard, even over the cacophony of destruction. Those shouts turned into screams as that ill-fated carriage followed the rest of the train.

  Smoke and fire filled the night sky.

  To be continued…