Part 3

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Central Command Center

Terra Atlantus

Antarctica

John was just finishing his cup of what felt like the best coffee in the world, after spending 12 days cooped up healing inside a stasis pod, according to the cute nurse who got him breakfast. He was only allowed a bowl of warm oatmeal and a glass of juice, but he managed to charm Natalie enough to take pity on him and smuggle him a coffee. He was sworn to secrecy on the pain of death. John had taken the oath solemnly.

The wave of urgency came from nowhere and everywhere at once and he was off the infirmary bed and running towards the centre of the building before it even registered he was moving. A startled nurse yelped and jumped out of his way and he hastily threw an apology over the shoulder, but didn't break stride.

He barreled into the control room with the Chair, without really realizing the mounting dread and chaos in the atmosphere. Nobody even noticed the scrubs clad Major until he was right in front of the Chair and focused on the petrified doctor who was clutching onto the Chair for his dear life. The people around Carson were shouting at him urgently to shut it the hell down.

"Get off the Chair. Now Doctor!" The barked command brokered no argument and Carson flew off the chair as if he was thrown off by an invisible force.

John was seated on it the moment doctor came off. The Chair brightened and inclined all the way like it had never done before, since it was discovered. The whole platform was bathed in a shimmering blue as the space above their heads was transformed into a translucent holographic display of the immediate vicinity outside the facility.

John had his eyes closed in concentration. In his mind's eye, he saw the scene of the impending doom of one General Jack O'Neill and his pilot inside the approaching Black Hawk. He stared in amazement at the amount of clear and precise details he was provided through his link to the Chair that housed the control core of the facility. The identities of the life signs, the flying object, speed, height, wind conditions, temperatures and all sorts of other minute data streamed into his mind, all neatly labeled. The warmth he had gotten very much familiar with during his days in the pod was insistent and apologetic in the back of his mind. John spared a second to send reassurance that it was not its fault and John was going to take care of it.

He focused on the squid-like missile that was on its way to annihilate the oncoming intruder. The missile was confident in the live lock it had on the intruder and was cheerfully informing Sheppard that the kill will be confirmed in 6.342 seconds.

John thanked the missile for its bravery and told it sternly to stand down now because this was not an intruder; but most certainly the leader of the Outpost. Therefore they needed to keep him alive and grant him unhindered entry.

The squid missile was skeptical. John was the princeps/primaria (leader/ primary), not the life sign inside the incoming flying object; the missile was quite sure.

OK! John spent another half a precious second to digest that bit of news and went back to his mental link to the missile. He confirmed that yes he was sure and the little missile must ABORT and RETURN TO BASE right now. No, it was not in trouble for anything and yes, John promised it would be sent out first the next time any invader showed up because it was a perfect little missile with top notch performance.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when he felt the squid missile change course in an elegant, sweeping turn mid air, barely 10 yards from the chopper, and started a sedate run back towards the Outpost. He kept his mental link, sending praise and encouragement towards the little ball of destruction as he guided it back inside the building through the roof door and to the cradle on the platform. Then he gently laid it down as if it were a sleeping baby.

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