Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins I cannot believe it's gone. The Prometheus is nothing but debris now. That was the most fucked up... I don't even know what to say. One satellite weapon took the Powerful P out. What do we have that can even touch the Ori? Admitting defeat is the first step to suffering defeat, but goddamn. That beam weapon sliced through the ship like it were paper. Our missiles and cannons didn't scratch the satellite's shields.
Perez is convalescing at home. He'll keep his arm, but the burns were pretty bad. I can't believe he hung in with me as long as he did. If' I'd know how badly he was hurt... being in the 302 probably saved his life. I'm sure his family would appreciate my oversight. It will be a couple of months before he can fly again, if he chooses to. I will certainly understand.
With the Prometheus gone, I'm unsure what I'll do. They are consolidating the 803rd and the 804th on the Odyssey. I've been offered a spot on the crew as XO to the Squadron. I'm not sure that's what I want to do right now. Gretchen has already let me know I can transfer out to the 805th anytime, but I'm not sure there's a place for me with the Ghostbusters. I know the Wraith are a threat, but they didn't kill my ship. I've got four days to think about it before I meet with General Landry on Monday. Right now, I just want to get very, very drunk. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins Recalled early from leave. That's about what I expected. Gretchen's on her way back out to Pegasus and we're on the way to some planet where the Ori are trying to establish a beachhead. Guess it beats our most recent deployments: pulling SG Teams out of hot water. SG-1 especially has a talent for getting into it deep. Not that I mind going out on these short little trips, but I'm a flyer and a Jarhead. If I don't shoot something soon, I'm going to go stir-crazy. Might help me get my mind off of some things.
Gretchen and I aren't through, per se. In fact, we never really worked out the relationship part of this. I think she wants to hang on to me because it will be motivation to come home. At the same time, she wants to push me away because of the distance involved. Ashamed as I am, I admit to feeling similarly. Ambivalence is a killer. In the meanwhile...
[Time index shows twenty minutes have passed before entry concludes.]
So, that's the woman who zatted me a few months ago. I expected someone less... flighty. She's been on the Prometheus a few times now and I'm just finding out who she is. Tells you how much I'm in the loop around here. If Jackson's not tappin' that, he's an idiot. If he is tappin' that, he's an idiot. Don't see there being a win in that contest. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins Word came in today that Atlantis survived. I also got a message from Gretchen. The 805th is transferring under Atlantis command. She's not staying on the Daedalus like we both thought. The message isn't a 'Dear John' but it might as well be. If things go as she suspects, she will be on the Daedalus for this return journey. She gets ten days on Earth before shipping out for good. Col. Pendergast has already authorized my leave papers with a blank date. Unless this new situation we've been alerted too explodes into a real threat, I should have at least a few days with her.
We need to talk about us and whether we can still make it work. Talk about long distance relationships. She's a whole galaxy away. That's not a weekend road trip with your buddies sort of distance. I've been wondering about my feelings for her and how I might cope with only seeing or hearing from her every three months. That's insane. Even worse is the idea of saying good-bye. Inaction gets you killed, so I hope we can work this out soon.
The Prometheus has been trying some new retrofits. Is it just me or do the Asgard really need to invent themselves some pants. I mean, seriously. I've met two of them now, I think, and it is a little creepy watching these guys work. I'm eager to try out the new launch systems. Immersing myself in this new stuff has helped take my mind off of things. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins The Pegasus Galaxy? I cannot believe this! Three weeks total hyperspace travel time each way. I understand that Atlantis needs help, but come on. I'm a Flight Leader here and she's now Squadron Commander there. No way either of us can transfer. Worst still is the fight we had just before she left. Sometimes my mouth and my common sense do not sync up. It will be months before I can talk to her in person, if I'm lucky.
In some ways I think it might be for the best. Yes, I'm rationalizing. Stargate Command is definitely the fast track... if you're Air Force. By the time they route anything through to Marine Corps Command... well, it could take months. With everything that's happened, the amount of secrecy has come down which means the amount of red tape has gone up.
What I'm saying is simple. Gretchen got her oak leaves with her promotion to Squadron Commander. At the pace she's setting, she'll be a light bird in no time. I'm still a captain. Nothing wrong with being a captain, but things could go poorly for her if we continue a relationship. We got away with a lot before because SGC is a fairly loose command when it comes to the 'spit and shine' sorts of regulations. It has to be, but there's a limit. Plus, the odd chance I will be assigned to her command makes it a dangerous game.
I'm not saying I like the idea. I hate it. Gretchen and I are amazing together. I miss her like a starving man misses bread. I just can't see a future in this. Add in these secret little wars we are constantly fighting... one of us is bound to not come back from a mission. It was close at P4X-553. I've notched seven Death Gliders in my time at the stick of a 302. Someone out there, maybe some Jaffa pilot or Kull warrior, has already cleared a spot for my silhouette. On that downer, I think I'm going to grab some chow and write a couple of letters. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins Today has been a pretty good day. [unintelligible mumbling] Yeah, give me a few minutes to take care of this. I'll meet you in the mess.
Sorry, Perez and some of the others were congratulating me. I was awarded some new fruit salad today. I got the Purple Heart and the Distinguished Flying Cross for actions over P4X-553. General Hammond presented them himself. He also told me I'd have earned a Silver Star if it wasn't for the secrecy involved with SGC. Guess it's the thought that counts. I was beginning to think I was going to be the only Butler without some sort of high level award. Col. Pendergast authorized champagne in the mess, so I need to get down there soon.
We're also celebrating the success of the Jaffa Rebellion. I'm pretty happy about that one myself. They are hellacious warriors in the sky and on the ground. I'm not naïve enough to think this means we are through with combat. On the contrary, I think things are only going to get messier with no clear cut enemies.
And I get the cast off tomorrow. Two hands are much better than one. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins I thought I actually might get to see Atlantis. Didn't happen. Perez and I were leaving the mess. I got zatted and wake up on a freaking Al'kesh. Next thing I know I'm helping repair weapons systems so we can attack our own freakin' ship. Never saw the sucker who got me, but I've heard it was some chick who tried to bang Doctor Jackson. You know, when people tell me my relationship with Fuchs is strange, I'm just going to point at Jackson.
We're back in Nevada right now while repairs are being done on Prometheus. During the downtime several of us are being sent to SGC for some cross training. I'm perfectly fine with that. I love the Powerful P as much as anyone on board, but occasionally you just need to get boot leather on dirt. I'm scheduled to go out with one of the SG Teams for a mission or two. Should be fun. And after repairs, I might just get to see another galaxy. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins Fuchs transferred out today, reassigned to the new Daedalus. She's going to be a Flight Leader for the 805th. I'm proud of her. I'm happy for her. I miss her already. Word is the Daedalus will be a much bigger and better craft than this one. Hopefully both vessels will be stationed so I can see her on occasion. Regardless, I've got almost a full month's worth of leave saved up. Not like home holds much for me right now.
Dad's pissed that I won't tell him about my new duty assignment. Geoffrey's pissed that I couldn't make it to his graduation. In my defense, I was getting shot at by Anubis's Jaffa at the time. Mom's mad because Dad's mad. Betsy's the only family member talking to me right now. I think she's trying to get me to pull some strings for Annapolis. Things might be different if I show up with Gretchen. Since they were all convinced I'd die a bachelor, this new development might make a difference. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC Callsign: Morgue 803d Fighter Squadron (F-302), "Firehawks" transcript begins Settling in on the Prometheus has been interesting. At times I want to think of it as just another Navy vessel. Then I look out a porthole. I'm surrounded by space. The real thing. With stars. The vessel has a certain hum that's comforting. I'm bunking with Perez. The quarters are larger than I'm used to. At least there's a gym and smallish running track.
I will never get tired of Air Force chow. [sound of voice in background] The call to General Quarters just went out. Time to go to work. transcript ends
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC (Callsign: Morgue) 801st Fighter-Interceptor Squadron (F-302), "Earthshakers" Operation: Ice Shield transcript begins The service was somber and beautiful at the same time. I wish Mitchell could have been there. We're going to go visit him in the hospital after evening chow. Don't know how long he's going to be in there, but it was amazing he survived nosing his 302 into the ground like that. He's a lucky SOB. Hope he's back in a cockpit soon.
We lost too many good men and women in this battle. I'm not sure what the hell those drones were but they came at exactly the right moment. We were outnumbered in the sky by a superior force. Can't tell you how that still eats away at my mind. All my life I've believed that America was the strongest nation with the most just cause. We're just the biggest fish in a small pond. If I'd known a year ago how everything I've ever known would be proven to be an illusion, I might have taken the Red Pill instead.
I know one thing for sure: I want to be a part of this. I've never wanted anything more. My family and friends... my loved ones... they all have no idea. They wouldn't know what to do or where to begin. There's more fight out there and that's where I need to be. We were given a duty request form for our next duty post within the new Department of Homeworld Defense. I'm putting in for the Prometheus. I hope Gretchen does to, but I can understand her reluctance.
Capt. Morgan Butler, USMC (Callsign: Morgue) 801st Fighter-Interceptor Squadron (F-302), "Earthshakers" Operation: Ice Shield transcript begins Where to begin? We're being invaded and no one knows. Our squadron is being sent to escort the Prometheus to Antartica. I'm still unsure about all this, but I've been in space. I've seen things. I'd believe the moon was made of Styrofoam if someone from SGC told me it was true. I've been informed this is a combat mission and to be ready. How can I possibly be ready for combat with an invading alien force? This is all new ground for me.
Harris is currently "running interference" so Gretchen and I can get a little time alone. I know sex before a mission is supposed to be bad form, but I feel so useless sitting around the barracks looking over tac-sheets of these alien craft. Gretchen's going out of her mind too. Tomorrow I fly my first real combat mission in the 302. Why am I not afraid? transcript ends
