Chapter 4

  As the Asgard departed from Gladsheim, Amos Fyree wrestled with the attendant's unsettling words and the looming crisis engulfing Hala. The attendant who had guided him approached with a solemn expression, informing him that temporary accommodations had been arranged for his stay until the Asgard High Council reached a decision regarding his fate.

  “Can’t I just return to Earth?” Amos implored, desperation creeping into his voice. The attendant met his gaze with a lack of empathy, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple. You’ve traveled from fifteen years into the future; we cannot predict the consequences your presence may have on the timeline.”

  Amos’s mind flickered back to his scant lectures on temporal mechanics at Yale, recalling how precarious the concept of time travel could be. The analogy of a single man stepping on a butterfly in the streets of Chicago, leading to dinosaurs roaming the avenues of Manhattan, echoed ominously in his thoughts. Regardless of the uncertain fate that awaited him, one undeniable truth remained: Amos Fyree was here—entrenched in the past, a decade and more adrift from his rightful time.

  A few hours went by, Amos ate, drank, and rested. Even so, the newest member of SG1 felt restless. What was happening out there? Did the Replicators take Hala? Were they on their way to Othalla next? The impending doom of the Asgard made all of these questions irrelevant. Even if they defeated the Replicators today, their doom was all but certain in the future. Fate was the real Replicator in this story, and like the Borg from Star Trek, “resistance was futile”.

  Still, Amos could not stand the curse of fate. He was SG1 after all. There had to be something that he could do to help Earth’s most valuable allies escape the Replicators as well as their untimely fate. Then, as always, Amos got an idea. Amos got up from his small alien bed and walked up to an intercom attached to the door of his room.

  “Hello, how may I help you,” asked the receptionist?

  “Ah, yes, this is Amos.” I was wondering if I could speak to a member of the Asgard High Council. I believe I may be able to help with the Replicators on Hala. Within minutes, Commander Freyr, member of the Asgard High Council, came to Amos’s door.

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  “Hello Amos Fyree, I was told you might be able to help us with the Replicator attack. How is it that you believe this is the case?” Freyr inquired, his demeanor a mix of urgency and skepticism.

  “Yeah, as you recall from the meeting with the Asgard High Council, I said that in the future it wasn’t the Replicators that kill you all but a disease,” Amos responded.

  Freyr’s brow furrowed. “Yes, I’m well aware of what you said during the meeting, however I am not sure how that relates to today’s current crisis.”

  “Freyr, that’s because we managed to defeat the Replicators,” said Amos.

  WIth a surge of curiosity, Freyr leaned closer towards Amos. “You have an effective means of neutralizing the Replicators.”

  “Why yes; yes, I do. General O’Neill, when he was a member of SG1, created a device using the knowledge of the ancients to wipe out the Replicators. All we have to do is go to the same planet O’Neill found the repository, download the knowledge of the ancients, and recreate the same weapon he made to defeat them. In my backpack is a laptop filled with gate addresses as well as all the SGC mission reports. With that we can head to the planet, extract the data, and have a weapon made to fight the Replicators by the end of the day.

  Freyr shook his head slowly, apprehension darkening his expression. “That path is fraught with peril. General O’Neill nearly perished when he delved into that well of the Ancients. His survival was nothing short of miraculous. I cannot guarantee you would emerge unscathed; O’Neill was exceptionally fortunate.”

  Amos met the Commander’s gaze, a flicker of resolve igniting in his eyes. “Then let’s ensure we’re just as fortunate.” The spark of determination flickered between them, a fragile lighthouse in a time of despair.

  Amos shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “That’s where you’re mistaken. Remember the nanites that were discovered in my bloodstream?” Freyr nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, I recall the doctor mentioning that you had some nanite technology in your system. He specified that it was developed by Stargate Command for monitoring and correcting medical anomalies, and that it isn’t connected to the Replicators in this galaxy,” Freyr stated. “Exactly,” Amos replied. “The medical nanites coursing through my veins could potentially prevent me from succumbing to something as severe as downloading the Ancient’s repository of knowledge.”

  His gaze darted back and forth as he searched for the knife placed on his dinner tray. When he finally located it, he picked it up, gripping the blade firmly in the palm of his hand. “Watch this,” Amos declared. With a swift motion, he sliced into his palm, creating a deep cut. “Ow,” he grunted, wincing at the pain. Just as Freyr began to voice his concerns about Amos’s reckless action, the unexpected happened. Within moments, the wound on Amos's hand began to seal itself.

  Freyr’s already wide eyes grew even larger. “So, you believe that the medical nanites in your body are capable of healing you and ensuring your survival as you delve into the repository of the Ancients?” Amos nodded confidently. “Yes, that is precisely what I believe.” Freyr pointed toward the seat next to Amos. “Wait right here. I’ll be back with what you need. In just a little while, we will go a Viking!