PH6-88J, known to its people as Vegema, bore the scars of centuries of domination. Once a jewel in the Goa'uld’s dominion, it suffered under Zafri, a minor lord serving Cronus. When Cronus fell, the Vegema were briefly free—only to fall under Ba’al’s grasp. Even after the Goa'uld’s defeat, their suffering continued. The Ori, and later the Lucian Alliance, exploited the power vacuum. Briefly aligned with the Free Jaffa, the Vegema found hope, but it was fleeting. When Stargate Command turned its attention to the Destiny project, the Alliance swept in once more, forcing Stargate Command to respond with overwhelming force to liberate the planet. Now, Vegema was under threat again, its people trapped between their fledgling spacefaring ambitions and the Alliance’s iron grip.
A Fragile Respite
The Invincible hung in orbit, her battered hull a testament to two brutal engagements with the Lucian Alliance. Repairs were underway, with engineers swarming over her decks, patching systems, and tending to their wounded pride. In a rare stroke of fortune, reinforcements arrived; Odyssey, Daedalus and Chekov, the Invincible’s sister ship, their sleek forms emerging from hyperspace like avenging angels. Along with them came fresh personnel, including SG-2, 4, and 11. As additional engineers assisted the repairs, Captain Hudson was transferred to Daedalus’ infirmary, his condition stable but critical.
Elle, determined to maintain their momentum, met with Colonels Christian Di Palma and Ellis Kirby, with Captain Vidmar Kovacs, aboard Odyssey. The quartet, all veteran pilots, agreed on a decisive strategy: air superiority first. With General Landry’s blessing, the plan unfolded; targeted strikes to cripple the Alliance’s defences, minimizing civilian casualties.
Meanwhile, sweeps revealed troubling intelligence. The Alliance had co-opted hidden Vegema technology, once shielded from the Goa'uld’s grasp. Though primitive by Earth standards, the Vegema’s nuclear missiles and supersonic fighters were now in Alliance hands, augmenting their defences. The battle would not be easily won.
Dawn of the Offensive
In the predawn darkness of Vegema’s main continent, Plaxia, Alliance radar bunkers sprang to life. Technicians scrambled as alarms blared, their screens lighting up with incoming contacts.
“Incoming! Multiple bogeys; eighty-plus signatures!” shouted a frazzled radar operator.
Commander Tirn, an Alliance officer overseeing planetary defences, strode into the bunker, his boots echoing on the metal floor. “Activate all squadrons! Scramble fighters now! And get me telemetry on those ships!”
Another officer interjected, “Sir, these aren’t Vegema craft. Their speed and formation suggest Earth ships.”
Tirn’s eyes narrowed. “So, they’ve come to play saviours again. Fine. Deploy ground-based SAMs and keep our fighters tight. They’ll pay for every inch.”
As orders were relayed, Vegema airbases roared to life. Alliance pilots sprinted to their commandeered fighters, engines screaming to readiness. Radar operators tracked the incoming waves, plotting intercept courses.
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First Blood
Onboard Invincible, Cate checked her systems as her Buzzards ascended into position. “Alright, Buzzards. Top cover until the first wave is through. Keep your eyes sharp.”
From Odyssey’s squadrons, the first strike teams peeled away, diving toward Alliance airfields. Bombs fell with precision, erupting into towering fireballs. Three key airfields were destroyed within minutes, their runways rendered useless.
“Buzzards, we’ve got bandits six o’clock!” called Captain Mark “Batman” Kalowski, his tone sharp.
Alliance fighters, cobbled together from Vegema’s fleet, surged into the fray. Their pilots, skilled but hampered by outdated craft, fought with desperation. A savage dogfight erupted as Odyssey’s squadrons engaged, the sky alight with tracers and explosions.
Cate’s Buzzards dove to intercept, their sleek F-302s outmanoeuvring the Alliance fighters. “Kalowski, you’re on my wing. We’re taking these guys head-on.”
“I’ve got your six, MacGregor,” he replied, his voice steady.
“Ghost, Viking, cover our flanks!” Cate ordered, her voice cutting through the comms.
“Roger that, Taipan,” replied 1st Lt. Juliette “Ghost” Ramirez, her A-10 experience evident in her precise manoeuvres.
“Copy, Taipan. Viking on it,” added Lt. Anders “Viking” McClaren, his F/A-18 and Tornado background making him a formidable force.
The Buzzards tore through the enemy formation, their missiles finding targets with deadly precision. Within minutes, six Alliance fighters were downed. Odyssey’s pilots, though valiant, weren’t unscathed—one pilot ejected after taking a critical hit.
“Buzzards, regroup! We’ve still got a mission to complete,” Cate commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
As the Buzzards regrouped, the Thunderbolts from Chekov, led by Major Elanor Davis, took over as top cover. “Thunderbolts, keep the skies clear. Let’s show the Buzzards how it’s done,” Davis ordered, a hint of rivalry in her voice.
“Roger that, Major,” came the confident reply from her squadron.
Cate couldn’t resist a retort. “Just try not to get in our way, Davis. We’ve got a mission to complete.”
“Don’t worry, MacGregor. We’ll clean up your mess,” Elanor shot back, her tone playful yet competitive.
Turning the Tide
The battle raged for hours, a brutal back-and-forth that tested every pilot’s skill and endurance. By the final phase, Earth’s forces had gained the upper hand, striking Alliance radar and missile installations with precision. Cate’s wing, now flying freelance, hunted targets of opportunity—trains, gun emplacements, and mobile SAMs.
“Angel, Nugget, stay sharp. We’re going in low,” Cate instructed.
“Roger, Taipan,” replied Lt. Ariel “Angel” Speckman, her resilience shining through as she threw her 302 around.
“Got it, Taipan,” echoed Ensign Francis “Nugget” Bianchi, his nerves evident but determination unwavering.
It was during one such sweep that disaster struck. Flying low over a rural sector, Cate’s 302 took a hit from an unseen shoulder-launched missile. Warning lights flared as her systems failed. “Damn it!” she shouted, wrestling with the controls.
“MacGregor, punch out!” Kalowski’s voice crackled over the comm.
With no other option, Cate ejected, her parachute deploying just in time. She landed roughly in a grain field, the tall stalks swallowing her from view. As she surveyed her surroundings, her frustration boiled over. “Rookie mistake, MacGregor. Rookie mistake,” she muttered, kicking a nearby stalk in irritation.
Rescue Mission
Back in the skies, Major Elanor Davis quickly assessed the situation. “Thunderbolts, we’ve got a downed pilot. I want a CAP over the area where MacGregor bailed. Lightning, Boxer and Talon, you’re with me.”
“Roger that, Major,” came the unified response.
As they flew over the area, Elanor contacted Lt. Commander Neville “Dusty” Dixon had returned to the Invincible. “Dusty, we’ve got eyes on MacGregor’s last known position. We’ll get her back, no matter the cost.”
“Thanks, Davis. Cate will go to ground. She’ll only be found when the timing is right,” Dusty replied, his voice filled with gratitude and determination. Her knew her past and he knew how capable the Australian woman was. Did he have something for her? That was a hard question to answer, she’d be a difficult woman to love.
Reflections
Dusty stood on the bridge with Elle, his gaze fixed on the smouldering remains of the Alliance ship, still visible through the viewport. Despite their victory, the cost weighed heavily on them. Turning, Elle gave the order to retrieve Cate.
Meanwhile, Cate sat in the grain field, her helmet off and her hair dishevelled. She sighed, staring at the distant smoke trails of the ongoing battle. Memories of a past mission, one that ended in unnecessary loss, surfaced unbidden. “You’re bloody cursed, MacGregor,” she whispered to herself. “Absolutely cursed.”
The sound of rustling grain stalks interrupted her thoughts. Rescue was on its way, or was it capture?