Dodecagon

By Veldeia


Day Four

Mitchell had grown vaguely aware of the annoying feeling that his right hand was a lot warmer than his left. His left foot had fallen asleep because a heavy weight lay on it, and something hard was pressed against his shoulder.

With a start, he realized why, and was instantly wide awake. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. He had no idea how long he had slept. Carter's elbow was digging into his shoulder, and Eilerson's feet rested on his. His right hand was still on Jackson's chest, which was no longer icy, but burning hot. The slow, weak but steady heartbeat had given way to alarmingly fast pounding. And there wasn't much he could do about it.

Mitchell pulled his hand away and climbed up, disentangling himself both from the people and the fabrics that had kept them warm. He wasn't cold anymore, so maybe sleeping had been a good thing, but he had wasted time, his headache was worse, and he felt a bit dizzy. It looked like everyone else was still asleep, except for Teal'c, who was sitting next to Galen.

"T--why didn't you wake me up?"

"I attempted to do so several times, and received no answer, except for approximately one hour ago, when you told me to 'Bug off'."

He really didn't remember doing that. "Right. So I slept for over an hour?"

"Several hours. The others have been asleep as well. I forced myself to remain awake so I could be certain all were well."

"But they're not."

"I am greatly concerned for both Daniel Jackson and Galen. At one time, I was afraid Galen might have stopped breathing, but he resumed on his own. Still, he has not shown any signs of regaining consciousness, and he remains colder than is normal. As for Daniel Jackson, his body temperature has been climbing steadily higher, and he has spoken in his sleep, but I could not make out what he was saying."

Mitchell was greatly concerned for both of them as well. He'd known this would be bad for Galen, since they'd forced him to wake up too soon and to power up the device again before he'd fully recovered from the previous time. Now he only hoped they wouldn't need to use it again, since he was pretty sure that'd be the last time for the techno-mage. And Jackson... Mitchell couldn't know what exactly was wrong with him without Galen's help, but it definitely didn't look good.

As for the rest, it was about time they woke up.

"Teal'c, we need to get out. Since I'm all right, maybe we can suppose Eilerson is, too. Let's wake him up. And Sam as well."

"Indeed. But before that, there is also something in this room that you should see."

For the first time, Mitchell turned his eyes away from his team and looked at the room. The walls. The roof. Jeez. He'd never understood people who were seriously claustrophobic, but this place made him sympathize with them. The walls were too near. He could just imagine them closing in on them. He shook his head and concentrated on things other than the walls.

This room was different from the three previous ones, which had been mostly empty. It looked exactly like the first room, the one in their own universe. There were tables around the Veraeda, and there was a lot of stuff on them, just like he remembered. But there was something else, things on the floor that hadn't existed in the first room. Four piles of clothes, awfully familiar in design--SGC uniforms, with bones sticking out of the sleeves, and skulls with empty eye sockets staring right at Mitchell. A pair of glasses rested on the floor next to one of them.

He covered the distance to them on shaky feet. They weren't necessarily who he thought they were. He knelt next to the first body, or the remains of one, with the glasses on the floor. They looked awfully familiar. The uniforms didn't have name patches. Neither had the one Mitchell was wearing. He walked over to the next set of bones and clothes, and noticed the dog tags still hanging from the skeletal neck. He didn't know if it was a good idea to touch these remains, but he had to know. He knelt to take a closer look.

The dog tags read O'Neill.

They weren't far from home anymore. Out of all the infinite possibilities, they'd landed in a universe that was a twisted version of their own. One where their counterparts hadn't been nearly as lucky. And the thought that a team lead by Jack O'Neill had died, while his team still lived, made Mitchell feel very strange.


A loud, unpleasant voice cut into Daniel's hazy mind.

"Eilerson. Eilerson! Come on! I don't care whether you want to wake up or not. We need you. We need you to look at those walls. Right now. Just get up, damn it!"

He hoped they'd just stop shouting. Whoever that Eilerson was and whatever they needed him for, Daniel didn't care right now.

The persistent voice just wouldn't go away.

Daniel opened his eyes. A steady white glow shined down from the ceiling. The same glow he'd been watching for three days now. He was in the Dodecagon. Stuck. They needed to figure out the walls. He'd failed. He'd failed it over and over again, and now he had an Ancient disease that would kill them all. But they should've been dead already anyway, frozen to death--he'd already killed them when he'd hit that wall.

Were they all still alive, really? And how could they be? He tried to ask it aloud, but all he could manage was a pathetic croak.

"...alive?"

"Daniel? Yes, you're alive, we're all alive. We're in a new universe," Sam answered his vague question. He turned his head slightly and saw her sitting next to him, looking a bit lost, somehow.

They were in a new universe, with a new set of walls. They'd have to get out. It was Daniel's job just as much as Max's, so why hadn't they been shouting at him? He'd have to see the walls, translate and date them if he could.

He tried to get up, but the sudden movement made him feel so much worse all he could do was roll over and retch. Blood again.

Sam had placed a hand on his shoulder, and he was too tired to try and get away from her. He had the vaguest memory of someone's hand resting on his chest. They had touched him already, they had been too close to him, and there was nothing he could do to prevent them from getting this too.

Sam helped him lay back again, and even took off his glasses. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing under control. The traces of blood and bile stung his dry mouth. He could've given anything for a glass--or a whole canteen--of water, but he knew they had none left. Sam was wiping the blood off his face, and a moment later, stroked his head.

This was so wrong--he shouldn't be lying here, shouldn't be treated like a sick child, when he should've been working on those walls.

"Sam--walls--let me-" he whispered.

"It's all right, Daniel, you just rest."

He felt his nose bleeding again, and opened his eyes again, looking for a tissue, a piece of cloth, something to wipe it with. Sam apparently realized what he was up to, since she gave him one. As he lifted it, he noticed something odd about his hand. It was speckled all over with small red spots, like needle marks, except that there hadn't been this many needles on his hands. He pulled his sleeve up, and saw that they continued up his arm.

"God... What's--wrong--with me?"

"Let me check and I'll try to find out."


Eilerson had finally gotten up, and after one look at Jackson and another at the remains of an alternate SG-1 on the floor, he'd practically run to see the walls. Mitchell had followed, staring over his shoulder, asking stupid questions, urging him to tell as soon as he knew anything about the walls. So far, it was looking pretty good. Eilerson had actually recognized three walls in a row.

"Keep up the good work," Mitchell told him, and turned away to go check on Jackson.

Both Teal'c and Carter were watching over him protectively once again. Teal'c's hand rested on Jackson's shoulder. Carter was peering at a thermometer, biting her lip. She noticed Mitchell approaching, stood up, and nodded towards the far end of the room.

"Any news?" Mitchell asked, when they were hopefully far enough that Jackson wouldn't hear.

Carter was still biting her lip. Apparently not a good sign. She waited a while, probably thinking really hard what to say.

Finally, she spoke up. "Do you know anything about the Ebola virus?"

That really got Mitchell off his guard. It took him a while to really understand what she had said, and then, he swore loudly.

"Jeez--Damn--Carter--Sam--really! You think that's what it is?"

"Well... No, not actually. As far as I know, with the disease we've got on Earth, it takes a lot more time than this for the symptoms to show up. Several days, at least. It's just that the high fever and the odd bleeding remind me awfully of the descriptions I've heard..."

"So, it's, what, a faster version? Even worse? Worse than one of the most feared diseases ever?"

"Cameron--I really don't know what it is, but no matter what, he can't take it for long--his fever's really high, and combine that with the dehydration-" she shook her head.

"There's got to be something we can do."

"I know--but I can't come up with anything. If I could just give him something to at least try to lower it--just regular pain medication might help a bit--and Compazine to do away with that awful vomiting--but we only have pills, and he can't swallow anything, not without water... I'm starting to think we should try and wake up Galen again, even if it's way too soon for him," she said.

They both knew that forcing Galen to get up now, after he'd powered the Veraeda twice in too short a time, might have nasty consequences for him. On the other hand, despite the things he had done for them and the days they had spent here together, Galen was still practically a stranger, and a slightly suspicious one at that, while Jackson was a dear friend, an important team member, and one of the most valuable people in the whole Stargate Program. Of course, it was wrong, ethically, but if it came to choosing between Jackson and Galen, Mitchell certainly knew his priorities.

"The last time we woke him up, it took a good while and a great deal of shouting and shaking, and all of us, himself included, freezing to death... So, let's get started, and hope it might be a bit easier this time," he decided.


Mitchell was shouting at Galen, trying to wake him up, but since Mitchell's voice kept growing louder, Daniel figured he wasn't getting anywhere.

Daniel was freezing. It was so cold in here. And he knew it'd happen to them all. They'd all freeze to death unless they could get Galen to power the Veraeda again. It was all his fault. Of course he had never meant to touch that wall, but no matter how dizzy he'd been, he should've known better, should've stayed far enough, to prevent anything like this from happening.

"Damn it, there's got to be something we can do!" Mitchell yelled, and stopped his useless shouting for a while.

Someone was wrapping a blanket around him. It didn't help a whole lot. His teeth were chattering.

"Are you still cold, Daniel Jackson? Shall I acquire another blanket?"

Teal'c. Why wasn't Teal'c wrapping himself in blankets instead? He'd get cold too. He'd freeze as well.

Daniel shook his head at Teal'c, trying to tell him to take care of himself.

"Still nothing?" Max said, somewhere farther away.

"Nothing whatsoever. I'd take him for dead if it weren't for the fact that he's still breathing and all that," Mitchell answered. They were talking about Galen.

"That's bad. Really bad, because I'd rather not go on with the walls if he's not around to help, just in case we've got it wrong."

"You've got something on the walls? A possible order?"

"Almost. I recognize all except for one text, but I can't read all of them, so I can't be sure of the dates and the order..."

"So, you can't do it?"

"No--I... Well. No, I can't do it. I know that that text, for example, is written in cuneiform, but that's just the script, and I can't read it. I need to know the language, and something about the contents, to be able to date it. With Daniel's help, I'm pretty sure I can. At least we can get a very good guess for an order. Even if Daniel doesn't know a thing about the one single text that I can't recognize, at least we've got eleven out of twelve. The best we've ever had."

"Except that Daniel's in absolutely no condition to help you, so you'll just have to do better."

Right. They were speaking about Daniel as if he wasn't here at all. He was still here, he was still perfectly conscious, though just more than a bit puzzled. Why weren't the others the least bit worried about freezing to death? They didn't have the time to start figuring out wall combinations, as good as the chances might seem.

"Can't you just write the texts down and show them to him?" Sam joined the conversation.

"No, no--first of all, it'd take lots and lots of time to copy each of the walls exactly, and even then, I might still make mistakes. No, it won't do."

Daniel got it now. He'd figured out what was going on. They weren't freezing. They were out of the freezing room already. No one else was cold, just him, because of the fever. Because of the Ancient disease. So, that was why he felt like this. One thing still hadn't changed, though--they had to get out, soon, or they would die. He had to help them get out.

"No, I can--" he tried to say, but it wasn't loud enough for Max or Mitchell to hear. Teal'c, who was a lot nearer, heard perfectly well, and placed a hand on his chest to keep him down.

"No, you should remain as you are."

"I can--read cuneiform. Max can't."

"Look, Mitchell. Cameron. We've got no other way out, and if we don't figure it out, we're all dead. I don't see any other way," Eilerson said matter-of-factly.

"Yes! Let me," Daniel managed a bit louder.

He heard approaching footsteps, and then the blurry forms of Sam, Mitchell and Max emerged above him.

"Right. It's not like you're going to touch the walls ever again, you'll just take a quick look at them, it's not going to kill you--is it?" Mitchell asked, sounding like he tried to reassure himself. The last words weren't aimed at Daniel, but at Sam. Daniel didn't hear or see her answer.

"Daniel? If you're ready... Teal'c, let's help him up."

Daniel tried to help them, to get his feet under him and get on them, but it wasn't much good. Teal'c practically lifted him up, and Mitchell offered his arm too, so that he had someone supporting him on both sides.

As he stood up, the darkness lurking at the edges of his vision suddenly jumped forth, and for a while, he couldn't see anything at all. And the way he felt--what he had felt when he'd been lying on the ground, what he'd thought had been awful, had been easy compared to this. He just hung in Teal'c and Mitchell's grasp and tried to keep breathing, and not to throw up again.

"Daniel, you all right?" Mitchell asked, concerned.

He couldn't say anything, he had to wait a moment, just a while, maybe it would get better, even if just a bit...

In a moment, his vision cleared again, enough for him to see the people around him, the Veraeda, and the walls. All there was to see.

"Ready," he whispered, and took a tentative step. He felt the room tilting and turning around him, but he took another step, with Teal'c and Mitchell following and supporting and actually doing most of the work. But he could do this. And he had to. The walls. The way out.


Mitchell didn't like this at all. Jackson should've just concentrated on staying alive, instead of having to work on these goddamn walls again, but Eilerson was right, they had no choice. Even if they could wake Galen up, which they apparently couldn't, they probably still wouldn't be able to switch rooms again without killing him. Besides, hey, this might actually be very, very good. They might get the right order and open the walls, and finally go home.

Teal'c and Mitchell pretty much dragged Jackson over to the wall Eilerson had pointed to them.

"That's the one I really need some help with. It's been a very long time since I've last read any kind of cuneiform writing, and I can't place this exactly. So, Daniel, if you can say anything at all..."

Jackson just nodded slowly, and stared at the wall for a good long while. Mitchell waited, listening to the strained sound of his fast breathing, feeling awfully impatient.

"Sumerian," Jackson finally rasped.

"It's Sumerian? Good. How old? Any estimate would do."

"Old. 2500."

"Yes, that's very good! That means it doesn't overlap that one other text... But we'll go these through one by one, if that's OK by you?"

Jackson gave another tired nod, and turned his face to the next wall. Mitchell motioned to Teal'c that they could move a few steps that way.

"It's Latin-based, I can read it, but I have no idea of where it could be from," Eilerson told.

Jackson had hardly looked at it for two seconds, when he started laughing. It sounded awful, completely breathless, but hopefully it was a good sign.

"Mal Doran," he offered as a vague explanation.

Mitchell wondered if he'd heard right, or if Jackson was just being delusional.

"Mal Doran, as in, Vala Mal Doran?" he asked.

Jackson nodded, but didn't say more than that, except for "Contemporary."

Of course the people of a world where Vala had used to be a Goddess had called their trials Mal Doran after her. Maybe the text had to do with that. It made sense, as extremely weird as it was to run into her name in this place. If the texts really were generated totally at random, then this was some coincidence.

"So, it's the same age as you, 21st century? Good. Now, as to the next one..."

Jackson shook his head.

"Never seen anything like it?" Eilerson sounded defeated.

"No."

"I think I have, actually, but I don't think I've ever heard of a name or a date for it. And it's odd that there's just seven signs there, doesn't look like much of a text. Well. That's the one wall we won't be able to date."

They went on. Jackson seemed to be handling it surprisingly well, really. They had the Ancient text as always, a bit of Chinese, some Goa'uld, something that Eilerson and Jackson agreed was a really strange, futuristic form of French, and then, a text that said nothing to Jackson, but Eilerson stated it was something called the "Constitution of the Interstellar Alliance, written in Pak'ma'ra".

So, they were halfway through the room, when Jackson's knees gave in, and he would've fallen down without Mitchell and Teal'c.

Mitchell really thought Jackson'd better have a break. "Want to lie down for a while?" he suggested.

Jackson shook his head vigorously. After a while, he got his feet back and supported at least most of his own weight again. He turned his attention to the wall.

"Linear A."

"Yep. Nice and clear and easy," Eilerson replied.

Next one--Mitchell frowned at it. He recognized it right away. It wasn't writing, it was music, all the lines and notes and things carved into that stone slab.

"And this is something I can read too, so we can just move on, and Daniel needs not bother at all, even if he could read it, which I doubt. It's the third Brandenburg concerto, third movement, by Johann Sebastian Bach," Eilerson stated.

Jackson didn't protest to that one. At the next wall, he gave a slight groan. Mitchell couldn't tell if it was because of the text, or just the pain. Eilerson did seem to have an idea about that, since he answered it with,

"I know. It's annoying, isn't it? But I think we can be pretty certain about it. I still think it's got to be from the future, so we put it last, and that's it. Unless that one completely unrecognizable text comes last after all... But that's to be seen."

Now that Mitchell looked at the text, it did look pretty familiar. He'd seen something just like it, though he'd not spent a long time looking at it. It was one of the texts from the very first universe, the Dodecagon they had gated to. One of the texts they had never been able to date, since they hadn't gotten past the first six.

Just one text left, and then they'd have gone the full round. The last text--Mitchell couldn't believe his eyes. Plain English. He could read it just as well as the next man. Not that it said much to him, though. It was a poem. He skimmed through the lines, not really reading it, until one ominous word caught his eye.

Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

"An excerpt from Ulysses, by Lord Tennyson, from the 1840's, at least in our universe," Eilerson said.

"Same," Jackson agreed in a ragged exhalation--and went completely limp so suddenly that Mitchell almost let him fall. Luckily Teal'c was on his guard, and caught him. They eased him down to the ground, and Mitchell sought for a pulse. Faint and fast, but still there. And that had been the last wall.

"Eilerson? Are we going home?"

"We've got an exact date for all but three texts, and of those three, I've a very good guess for two. Just one wall still escapes us, and that's not likely to change. But it's just one."

"Yeah. Just one. We can handle this. We're going home."


Two strangers had come through the large central device, but Daniel wouldn't do the first contact stuff. Mitchell could handle it. Way better than Daniel, at the moment. And where were those blankets when he really needed them? It was so cold in here. He was shivering, and dizzy even though he was perfectly still and flat on his back. He kept his eyes tightly closed.

His hand was a stupid, painful, dead weight, like a block of wood, without any feel aside from the inextinguishable fire. Or rather, his hand was just one example of the pain that engulfed him completely, hands, feet, head, back and chest alike. It didn't make much sense, because he'd only brushed the wall with the tips of his fingers, but, of course, it had been an Ancient punishment for picking the wrong one, and who could tell where that would lead.

Mitchell was speaking with one of the strangers, the one who hadn't fallen down unconscious. Daniel just heard the words, but couldn't grasp their meaning.

"So, where do we start?"

"We don't. Not until Galen comes around."

"We don't know if he's ever going to come around again. He's got a better chance of coming around about anywhere else than here."

"I'm not going to risk it. Neither should anyone else. Even though it's just one wall we can't date, you know what it could mean. Nerve gas, we all die. Room temperature falling, we all die. What happened to this alternate version of you could happen to us. And whatever Daniel's got right now, I'd rather not try it either."

Daniel heard his name--how did this stranger know his name? But no, of course he did, Mitchell had told him. If he'd only stop hurting all over, he might be able to start thinking again.

"Maybe we need to try something else, then. Ancient wall goes first, right?"

"It does, but-"

"Cameron, that's not going to work, we know Ancient technology is way more advanced than that-" Sam's urgent tone registered even in Daniel's hazy mind.

"I'm just amazed we haven't thought of this before," Mitchell's answering voice was firm.

There were steps shuffling to and fro, and then, all of a sudden, a loud crash, and another, just a bit more silent, like an echo.

Daniel started at the unexpected sound. He could feel the panic getting him again, the agitation he had tried to avoid all along, because he knew that it'd not be good, not after he'd got that shock from the wall. But he couldn't help it.

There was a heavy weight on his chest, a cover stone crushing him, like his parents. He could feel his heart fluttering desperately.


Mitchell watched the silver plate bounce back from the wall and crash to the floor. The wall stayed dark. No lights. Either it was the wrong one, or then it just hadn't done anything. As far as he could see, there hadn't been any consequences, so either it hadn't been wrong, or then it'd just caused something that worked slowly or was hard to notice. There was only one way he could be sure.

Without saying a word, hoping to avoid any useless comments from the others, Mitchell marched to the wall and put his hand on it. The text lit up instantly. It was the right one. So, tossing inanimate things at the walls to activate them obviously wouldn't do. They'd just have to touch them like they'd done before. Well, of course it couldn't be that easy.

"So, Eilerson--next wall, please."

"I'm not telling you, you'll just get us all killed," he answered stubbornly, turned his back to Mitchell and walked away, towards Galen.

Mitchell followed, of course. They didn't have time for this.

"Eilerson-"

A worried call from Teal'c cut him short. "Colonel Mitchell, Daniel Jackson appears to be in distress."

Instead of running to Jackson, when he knew he'd not be able to do anything to help, Mitchell continued where he'd been going in the first place, to Galen's side.

Eilerson had knelt next to him, and looked up at Mitchell, giving him a faint smile.

Galen had opened his eyes.

Mitchell just couldn't resist the urge, so he knelt closer too, and said, "So, how's our Sleeping Beauty doing?"

"Beautiful as ever, but asleep no more," Galen replied softly. It looked like he wasn't doing that bad.

"I've got good news for ya. We're going out," Mitchell told him.

"Cameron? Is he awake? Galen? Daniel could use some help," Carter yelled from Jackson's side.

"You up to doing some more miracles, Beauty?"

Galen closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and sat up.

"Help me up. I'll see what I can do."

Both Eilerson and Mitchell offered their arms, and Galen accepted all their aid. When he was on his feet, he shrugged them off. For a while, he just stood there, hanging his head.

"Everything all right?" Eilerson asked, sounding sincerely concerned.

"In time, everything will be. Until then, we'll have to do with what we have."

He walked over to Jackson, stopping only for a short glance at the remains of the alternate SG-1 on the floor. 

When he got to Jackson's side, he placed one hand on Jackson's chest and took out the crystal he'd held before--a healing device of some sort, Mitchell figured, since it'd showed up every time he was healing someone.

Mitchell had only been away from Jackson for some minutes, but he was looking a lot worse now. It probably had to do with the trickle of blood making its way out of the corner of his mouth, joining the one flowing from his nose. His breathing came in short, rapid gasps. As Galen held his hands in place, it slowly began to even out and slow down.

Mitchell thought it looked like Galen was really getting somewhere, that Jackson was starting to look a bit better off. Still, Galen shook his head as he withdrew his hands.

"Daniel?" Galen asked softly.

Jackson's eyes opened just a little. They were so bloodshot they looked more red than blue. He peered at Galen and asked, "Who're you?"

"Galen."

He frowned slightly and closed his eyes again. Both Eilerson and Galen were staring at Mitchell as if they had something important to say, but didn't want to say it here. Mitchell sighed, stood up and walked away from Jackson again. The two others followed.

"So. Speak."

"We must get out soon. I can't heal him."

"He's looking better to me," Mitchell frowned.

"It won't last. All I can do is a few tricks that offer a moment's relief. They won't last, and soon he'll be too sick for me to do anything at all. I believe it's a viral hemorrhagic fever of some sort, but to prove that, I'd need a blood sample and the proper equipment to study it. I'm not sure I could come up with a cure even then."

"So, are we all going to have it?" Eilerson was obviously mostly concerned for himself.

"I can't tell. The way we've all been in close proximity to him, most of all, to his blood, which might be highly contagious, suggests that it's more than likely."

"Anyway, what I had to say was, I need to go through my idea of a wall sequence with Daniel, and then we can try it. Though that one wall's a wild card. It could go anywhere," Eilerson gestured towards the unknown wall with the seven symbols.

Galen's eyebrows had climbed an inch higher at the sight of it. He took a few steps towards the wall and said, "I know this."

Eilerson looked like he was about to jump and hug Galen. "Really--you do? Honestly?"

"It's the Code I have been following for most of my life."

"What code--what's it-" the foreboding expression on Galen's face stopped Eilerson's questions short. "Uh, never mind. Can you tell how old it is?"

"It was set down a thousand years ago."

"A thousand years before our time? As in, 1200 CE?"

Galen nodded.

"Then we've got it! We've got an exact order, and it's not a guess anymore!"

"You've got to double-check with Daniel before we take a shot at it?" Mitchell asked.

"I think I'd better. Just in case."

So, back to Jackson's side it was, then. Mitchell did agree with Eilerson. It was better to have two people thinking this over, rather than just one. They'd all learned their lesson about what the cost of one single mistake could be. And he did trust Jackson a lot more than Eilerson, no matter how sick and feverish he was.

"Daniel, you with me here? We've got the walls figured out, right? Ancient first, then Sumerian?"

"Sumerian... Not Egyptian?"

"No, there's no Egyptian in this room. That was the first room, Daniel. This is the fifth. The one where we get out. Ancient, Sumerian, Linear A, how's that?"

Daniel gave a little cough, and answered, "Right. Yes."

"Then, Galen recognized the one we didn't know as some techno-mage thing that's from the 13th century. So that would be next. And then the Bach piece."

"No, no," Daniel muttered. "Chinese."

"Chinese... You think that particular text is that old? You sure about that?"

A silence, a few rattling breaths, and a nod.

"You're probably right... And if you are, you saved us from at least one mistake with that. So, Chinese is fifth, then Bach. How old do you think the goa'uld text is?"

"Not."

"Not old? But it's older than the Mal Doran text?"

Another nod, another small cough, and another stream of blood running down Daniel's chin.


Daniel knew what was going on. He knew he shouldn't tell anything. It was just the Replicator-Sam trying to get to the Ancient knowledge stored somewhere in his mind. She was using some truly strange methods to get there. And he couldn't resist it. Somehow, he thought he had to answer. That it was the right thing to do, even though it wasn't. The paradox was tearing his mind apart, just like the pain was shattering his body.

"Tennyson, Goa'uld, Mal Doran... Then the ISA declaration, though you would know as little about that as I do about Goa'uld."

Daniel didn't know what to say. He wasn't really sure what this apparition, this hallucination, was talking about. He remembered the texts, he remembered they must be put in the right order, but he couldn't recall why, or what that had to do with the knowledge of the Ancients. So, he just nodded.

"And we'll finish with the post-French, and then that unrecognizable text from the first room."

First room. The white glow from the ceiling. The Dodecagon. Something that he should know, something important, but he just couldn't remember.

He was back in the small room on the replicator ship, with Sam standing in front of him. Except that it wasn't Sam, not really, just a human-form replicator made to look like her. And before Daniel could do anything--as if there was anything he could do--her hand morphed into a sword, and she struck him, running it right through his chest.

With all the hurt he was already suffering, that one stab didn't feel as bad as he'd have expected. But he could feel its effects, he felt the blood filling his chest, flowing out of the corner of his mouth. He couldn't breathe. He was going to die. Unless he could ascend again. But where was Oma?


"That's it? You've got it?" Mitchell asked anxiously.

He had the feeling that Jackson hadn't really been following what Eilerson tried to suggest. It looked like he was pretty much out of it again. When Galen had said that his help wouldn't last long, Mitchell had figured he'd meant something like an hour. It had hardly been fifteen minutes yet, and Jackson's breathing had picked up a horribly wet-sounding undertone.

"I've got something. Can't say if it's 'it' before we've tried it."

"So, we stop wasting time and try it."

"Who's going to..." Eilerson began.

"I don't care. Don't give a damn. Anyone. Whoever. Except for you, Galen. I need you to keep Jackson alive until we've got the walls. So, I'll do it on my own, if no one else volunteers."

"We shall all volunteer," Teal'c said, and if Mitchell could interpret his voice at all, it sounded a bit offended.

Of course they would all volunteer. Mitchell just felt so tired and annoyed that he couldn't help saying things he didn't mean. And he still had the grandma of all headaches, with a really bad attitude. He figured that if they wouldn't get out really soon, he might just go totally stir-crazy.

Galen had taken up his healing crystal again, hopefully trying to do whatever he could to help. Mitchell laid a hand on Jackson's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze.

"Just hang on in there, Daniel," he said.

The answer he got was more than a bit startling, and not only because the voice uttering it was so weak.

"...Jack?"

"Sorry. He's not here right now. But we'll get there soon," Mitchell promised, and stood up. "So, which way to the second wall?"

The first wall was still glowing, so they knew at least that one was right. Mitchell remembered that the second wall was supposed to be in cuneiform writing, and he thought he could recognize it, but he couldn't be sure, and they couldn't afford any mistakes.

Eilerson didn't answer. Instead, he just walked to the cuneiform wall and hit it himself. It was correct.

"Linear A's next. Teal'c, it's right behind you," he told.

Teal'c turned around and touched the wall, which lit up as well.


Jack wasn't here. That thought, somehow, was enough to drag Daniel's wandering mind back into the present. That, combined to the fact that, for some odd reason, he was feeling slightly better again. No longer suffocating.

He was not on the Replicator ship. He was in the Dodecagon. He was really, really sick, with an Ancient disease. And Oma wasn't here. Though she'd had been there when he'd almost, no, when he had actually died on that ship, she hadn't been there when Daniel had escaped death so narrowly in the Dodecagon in their own universe, after he'd first touched a wall.

Maybe the containment in this place was so extremely effective that not even the Ascended could make their way into it. After all, higher plane or not, they were some kind of energy beings, and this room was built to keep energies tightly within, so nothing could go out, and nothing could get in. But no, that was all beside the point. Oma had fought Anubis. And the Ascended had probably decided that Daniel was a hopeless case who would never ever be able to conform to their rules and regulations. He didn't know what had happened to Oma, but he was sure they'd never allow her to contact him again.

Could he ascend on his own now? He had already been up and away over there once, and he'd come very near to it again after that encounter with Replicator-Sam. But even if he could ascend here, would he only become stuck, unable to get out through the containment? Would he be caught inside these walls until the end of time? The four days he'd been here so far had already felt like an eternity.

Of course, they might just figure the way out, and he'd survive. He didn't know what was going on with the walls at the moment. Max had been asking him questions, he remembered that, offering a possible order, and he'd approved most of it. But it was silent now, no one speaking anything at all, at least not loud enough for Daniel to hear. No cheering to tell that they'd got things right, and nothing to suggest that they hadn't, either.

If he could just open his eyes and look, but he couldn't. Wouldn't. He knew it would be a very bad idea. He also knew that this moment of clear thought, feeling slightly less dead, was passing quickly. It was an oasis that he'd already left behind, and now he was walking into the desert again, thirsty, without any water anywhere in sight, hurting all over, leaving a trail of blood behind him, so weary that he could hardly lift his feet from the ground.

The others might just figure the way out of here so that Daniel could die somewhere else.


They'd got six in a row. They were halfway through the walls, and they'd got each one right so far. They'd fallen completely silent. They were too tense to say anything at all, too worried that the next wall might be the one to go wrong. Eilerson went to touch the seventh wall himself. The English one. It glowed reassuringly.

Mitchell knew, or at least thought he'd heard, that the Goa'uld text would come next, so he started walking towards it, but Carter was there already. Eilerson nodded to her, and she and went for it. Right. It was right, too.

This was looking almost too good to be true. Could they really have the right order at the first try? There was always the next wall to go, always the chance that it'd wipe them all out of existence with some unknown and all-powerful Ancient weapon.

The text from Vala's planet came next, and Teal'c did that one. Successfully.

Eilerson got the alien language declaration from his universe.

Ten. They'd arranged all but two correctly. Those last two had been the haziest ones anyway, the texts from the future. And now that they had only those two left, it was just a fifty-fifty thing, and if this first try went wrong, then they'd do it again the other way, and it'd have to be right.

Mitchell was already starting to plan ahead in his mind, think about what they'd do when they got to those other rooms. How they'd get home. Not that he cared a whole lot about what all the other rooms had in them. All he needed was the stargate room. If there was an SG-1 in this universe, dead as they might be, it suggested that there'd be an SGC as well. Maybe they could just dial home, talk things over with them and go on wondering about what to do with the SGC crew of this universe. At least they'd be out of this awful place, and they'd get some real medical attention for Jackson. And some water.

Out of the two walls that were left, one was the odd futuristic French, and the other, that text already familiar from the first universe. Jackson and Eilerson had figured that the French came first. Mitchell was nearest to it. He turned to the wall, reached out a shaky hand, and touched it.

The relief when he saw the light shining through those curly symbols carved in stone was just overwhelming. His legs felt like jell-o. He had to place both hands on the wall just to keep himself steady.

Unceremoniously, but with a smug smile unlike anything Mitchell had seen on his face so far, Eilerson walked to the one single wall that wasn't glowing yet, and punched it.

The walls had come down with what had looked like surprising speed. Now it seemed to take ages for them to open. The lights went off from all walls at the same time, and the writing disappeared with a grinding sound about as bad as fingernails on a chalkboard.

The heavy stone slabs began to rise, so slowly at first that Mitchell wasn't sure if he was just imagining that little crack between the floor and the lower ends of the wall-doors. But they were going up, sluggishly but certainly, revealing the twelve rooms beyond.

Soon, Mitchell found himself staring straight at the stargate.

They'd got it right. No one was going to die in this place.

There was no need to be silent anymore.

Unable to find the exact words to nail what he felt, Mitchell just let out a victorious howl.

He saw Carter and Teal'c hug each other briefly, and Eilerson was still smiling, the expression seeming oddly out of place on his face. Galen had stood up from Jackson's side, staring curiously at the twelve doorways.

Mitchell wondered if Jackson had got what'd happened, and walked over to tell him. Carter and Teal'c knelt next to him too.

"We have great news," Teal'c started.

"Daniel, we've got it--you and Max got it! You got it right, and the doors are open," Carter said.

"Yeah, we're finally free, and everything's going to be fine," Mitchell added.

If Jackson heard it at all, he did a very good job hiding that. His eyes stayed shut, his bloodstained mouth hung loosely open. A teardrop was drawing a crimson line downwards from the corner of his eye.

"So, we've got the walls. What's next? Where do we go from here?" Eilerson's smile didn't really reach the tone of his voice.

"Next, we'll call home. Or the closest thing to our home in this universe, anyway," Mitchell declared. "Carter, how'd you like dialing Earth?"

The joyful look on Carter's face had already faded a bit when she'd looked at Jackson, and now it fell a bit more, hinting that she wasn't exactly sure whether dialing an alternate SGC was a good idea. Still, she didn't say a thing. She walked through the open doorway to the DHD and started punching the symbols.

The seven gate chevrons lit in their familiar sequence, and Carter hit the central orb.

Accompanied by a disheartening, descending hum, the chevrons faded out.

She tried it again, but with the same results.

It seemed they weren't calling home after all.


Daniel was dying.

There was nothing anyone could do to prevent it. The amount of radiation he'd been exposed to was lethal. He knew Janet had done all she could, and that Jack, Sam and Teal'c had tried contacting all possible allies, searching for any healing technology, anything. They had come back empty-handed. Even Sam's attempt with the Goa'uld healing device had failed.

He did not blame them. Of course he did not want to die, but it had been his choice, and he accepted it. He'd die knowing he had done the right thing. His life in exchange for the lives of all the people on Kelowna. If he hadn't stepped in and stopped that device before it went off, they would all be dead now.

In a way, he thought Jack and Teal'c and Sam had more trouble dealing with this than he did. They were both angry at him for doing what he'd done, and grief-stricken by what would happen to him. He could offer them no relief. Even if he could find the right words, he was far past the point of being able to speak.

He was sick and tired beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life. All he hoped was that he could just fall asleep or unconscious and stop feeling it all, and still, he fought hard not to let that happen. He didn't want to waste his last moments unfeeling and oblivious to the world. Though he wasn't much more than that right now, he could still hear the voices speaking, knew there were people around him, his team, his friends, those who cared about him. The people who would be there until the end.


Carter turned her back to the DHD to face the others.

"As much as I hate being a killjoy, I'm really not so surprised that the gate doesn't work. I mean, even though we've got the remains of an alternate SG-1 on the floor in this room, it doesn't mean anything. Daniel explained earlier that the Veraeda can send people back or forth in time, so we might be a thousand years away from our own time. We might not even be anywhere near to our own universe. Since our General O'Neill has the Ancient gene, maybe this one here had it as well, and was able to activate the Veraeda, and this is not their universe at all..."

"But there's got to be a way out of here, no matter whatever time and universe we're in," Mitchell said.

"Whatever that way is, we need to find it right now, or it'll be too late," Galen muttered, his words far less clearly and carefully formed than usual. He had walked to the nearest table, and now he was leaning on it with both hands, his head bowed.

Mitchell didn't like that. It looked like Galen was about to give up on Jackson. "Galen?" he asked.

"I've done all I can, but it's not enough. I can't fight it, it's far too complicated, too overwhelming--his blood vessels are leaking all around, his liver and kidneys are about to fail, his blood pressure is too low and soon he'll go into shock, and there's no way I can stop it all--it's beyond the abilities of any of my kind... What he really needs is transfusions, lots of them, and fluids, which I cannot just create out of thin air," he shook his head, and went on with a wavering voice. "And so, I fail once again--I fail to save a life when it really matters, just like every other time, except for Matthew..."

Galen had his own personal demons like everyone else, it seemed. And whatever he actually was, human or cyborg, someone with a huge bunch of spare technology in his body or an ordinary man, it seemed that the dehydration, the imprisonment and the hopelessness of their situation were getting to him as well. Not to mention the possible aftereffects of powering up the Veraeda.

"But he's not dead yet, and I've no intention of letting him die, either," Mitchell declared. "So, we'll start searching the rooms-"

"The ship!" Carter suddenly exclaimed, out of nowhere.

"Ship? What ship?" Mitchell had no idea what she was talking about.

She pointed at something behind him, and he turned around to look. There, in one of the rooms, waited the Ancient gateship.

"That ship. The gateship. If we can't use the gate, at least we can try to fly, well, somewhere. Anywhere, away from the Dodecagon, maybe to a world where we'll find some help..." she explained. Just flying out into deep space in an unknown universe didn't sound like much of a great plan, but at least it was something. Possibly better than a broken gate.

"Or perhaps, if it has a time-travel device, and we are not in our time, we can use it to return to that time in this universe, and then dial Earth," Teal'c suggested. Mitchell figured that sounded really good.

"Let's go and take a look. But I want someone to stay with Jackson." Mitchell needed someone to make sure that he really stayed alive long enough for them to find the way out.

"Keep in mind that, although none of us have started showing any symptoms of this disease so far, if the virus is contagious, anyone doing rescue breathing will certainly become infected. As for chest compressions, any bruising they could cause, let alone broken ribs, would probably lead to serious internal bleeding," Galen warned, still not sounding hopeful.

"I shall watch over him," Teal'c answered resolutely. "My knowledge of the gate vessels is not extensive."

Mitchell didn't know a lot about them either, he thought, as he walked into the room that was pretty much filled by the ship. Carter, Galen and Eilerson followed him. Carter hit some controls at the end of the ship, and a ramp opened to let them in.

Mitchell had only read about a ship like this in the mission files concerning a planet where Harry Maybourne had been king. SG-1, officially lead by Carter, but accompanied by General O'Neill, had found an Ancient ship on that planet, and it had had what'd seemed like a time travel device in it. That ship was in Area 51 right now, in their universe, and they still didn't understand a whole lot about how it worked. It was designed to fit through the stargate, and even had a DHD built inside it.

"This is... This looks different. There are things in here that weren't there in the ship we found," Carter said as soon as they were in. So, this was new to her as well.

The inside of the ship felt and looked crammed. The walls were covered with complex clusters of Ancient technology, and several large devices of some sort stood up from the floor as well, or maybe they were just the different parts of one big device.

"So, you think this can do time travel?" Mitchell asked.

"I don't know what it can do, really, but at least it's probably able to do more than just fly through the gate. Though if some of this technology adds up to a time travel device, then it's completely different in design than the one we've seen."

"The really important question is, can we fly it at all."

Mitchell walked through all the contraptions to the cockpit of the vessel. It didn't look as crammed as the rest of the ship. Instead, it had four seats and a strange set of controls, just like what O'Neill had explained in his mission report.

Mitchell sat down on the seat at the controls and put his palms on the pads. Nothing happened, of course.

"Just one little problem. We've got no one with the Ancient gene around."

Galen had appeared at his side. "Perhaps I could try," he offered, and Mitchell let him. He'd done pretty good with the Veraeda, so maybe he could deal with a gateship as well.

Galen placed his hands on the controls. Still nothing. "I can interface with the surface of it, but it won't grant further access without a certain DNA sequence," he noted.

"Yeah--as I said, the Ancient gene, which we don't have, but Jack O'Neill-" Mitchell got an idea as he was speaking. O'Neill. They needed O'Neill's DNA.

He walked out of the ship, back to that twelve-sided room where they'd spent so much time. Teal'c looked up from Jackson's side and nodded to him. Still alive.

Mitchell went straight to the skeletal remains with the O'Neill -dog tags. Feeling like a grave robber, he picked up a few finger bones.

When he returned to the cockpit with them, Carter cast an appalled look at him.

"If it helps us out, I don't think O'Neill would've had a problem with it," he shrugged, and offered them to Galen. "O'Neill's bones. O'Neill's DNA. Ancient gene. Anything you can do?"

Galen picked up the bones, placed one on each control pad, and laid his hands on them. He closed his eyes in concentration.

It occurred to Mitchell that the combination of gateship and Galen might be just as bad as Galen and the Veraeda had been. He was half-expecting that Galen'd fall unconscious and topple off the chair.

Instead, Galen opened his eyes, wide with wonder, his entire expression lit up with awe.

"This ship is amazing," he said, sounding slightly breathless. "Incredible."

"And, believe me, if Galen says that, it's really something, considering that his own ship is easily the most advanced spacecraft I've ever seen," Eilerson added.

It really didn't matter however fine and fancy the ship was. Mitchell was only interested in one thing. "So, can you get us out?"

"More than that. Much more than that, I think," Galen replied. "Get everyone and everything in."

He stayed in his place, hands on the controls, his gaze wandering, looking at things no one else could see. Everyone else rushed out, to grab the most important of their belongings. Packs and guns were in, blankets and sleeping bags could just stay where they were, in a pile in front of the Veraeda. They'd give a soft landing to the next people to come through it.

"What about..." Carter asked, motioning vaguely at the alternate SG-1. Mitchell shook his head. They wouldn't waste time on those who were already dead.

As for those who were hopefully not dead yet, Teal'c had already lifted Jackson from the floor, and carried him all the way to the gateship.

When they were all in, Eilerson and Carter in the cockpit with Galen, and Teal'c, Mitchell and a barely breathing Jackson among the odd bits and parts of Ancient technology, Teal'c reached for the ramp controls. Before he'd touched anything, the ramp closed on its own.

"All in? Fasten your seatbelts and hang on to your hats. It's going to be the ride of a lifetime. More than one lifetime, actually," Galen called out from the controls. "Oh, and enjoy the view."

Huge windows unfolded in the walls on both sides. Or maybe, more likely, they were just screens showing the outside, which looked like windows. All Mitchell could see through them were the dark stone walls of the surrounding room.

The walls started to move, to slide downwards. In a second, he realized the walls weren't moving at all. The gateship was rising slowly, but its inertial dampers, or whatever they were called, prevented them from feeling it.

Mitchell remembered perfectly well that the rooms weren't particularly high. "Galen, are you nuts? We're going to hit the ceiling!" he shouted.

But they went on rising, and they didn't hit a thing. There was a break in the walls, a long, thin dark line, some more wall, and then, complete darkness, sprinkled with a few dim stars, far away.

The ship tilted slightly, or then Galen had turned the displays, the outside cameras, or whatever, to show a different angle. They showed an odd, dark-gray formation, like a star with a lot of deformed rays. Mitchell couldn't see all of them, but he knew there were twelve. The outside of the Dodecagon. It was covered all over with patches of Ancient technology, just like the inside of the ship around them.

They were flying above it, across it. The image changed again, to show the ray they'd left behind. Its surface had split along the middle and opened up like a pair of triangular doors when they'd come out. Now, it was closing slowly behind them.


It was all too much. It hurt too much. Staying awake was too hard. He couldn't do it, not anymore.

He could hardly hear the voices around him, couldn't recognize any of the speakers or make up any words, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, Janet, Hammond, whoever, it was all a buzz that meant nothing to him.

He had always thought he was a fighter. Only because of that he had managed to escape death so many times in the past.

This time was different. He knew there was nothing anyone could do to help, nothing that could stop the inevitable from happening.

Daniel could just as well give up.


A weak voice, a barely perceptible word from Jackson, took Mitchell's attention immediately away from the view.

He couldn't decide what Jackson had said. Could've been a lot of things, like "hurts" or "help" or "hell", or then something in a language Mitchell didn't even know.

Mitchell crouched closer, so he could hear anything that might follow. But there was nothing more. Nothing at all. Jackson had stopped breathing.

"Damn! Not now! Jackson? Jackson! Daniel!" Mitchell shouted, shaking him vigorously. He got no response.

Teal'c, sitting at Jackson's feet, gazed at him intently. Mitchell tilted Jackson's head back, trying to secure his airway, but it didn't change a thing either.

"Galen! We're really not doing good here!"

"What's wrong--he's not-" Carter's concerned words came before Galen had said a thing.

He interrupted her. "No, Samantha. Stay where you are. I need you here," Galen spoke with a lower tone, and then switched to shouting when he addressed Mitchell. "Whatever I said earlier, forget about it! We're only minutes away. I can't leave the controls. Just do whatever it takes to keep him alive."

"Minutes away from where?" Mitchell asked, completely puzzled. He could only hope that Galen knew what he was doing.

He was nearer to Jackson. He had to do the rescue breathing. The disease could just go to hell. If he was going to get it, he was sure he had it already. He pinched Jackson's nose shut and gave him two breaths. Didn't do any good as far as he could see. He could taste Jackson's blood on his lips. He checked for a pulse, and felt nothing.

Teal'c had squeezed himself to the very narrow space between the Ancient machinery and Jackson's other side. He had placed a hand on Jackson's chest, and let his head droop sadly. Not good. Definitely not good.

"Whatever it takes, Galen said. T, never mind the bruises or the broken bones," Mitchell told him, so Teal'c positioned himself so he could start compressions. Mitchell knew he could do it well enough, had seen him do it before.

Fifteen compressions. Two breaths.

Galen had said they were minutes away. Mitchell couldn't imagine where he was taking them. No matter what the ship could do, crossing any distance across space in just minutes, without the stargate, sounded absurd. Especially since the Dodecagon was so far from everything else, all alone in deep space.

Just on cue with Mitchell's thoughts, Galen yelled, "Brace yourselves! Here we go."

Then, the world stopped, turned upside down, collapsed into itself and exploded back to its normal state again. It felt like the Big Bang, the effects of the Veraeda and those of a gate trip fused together and fit into a moment so short that it couldn't be measured.

It hadn't changed one thing, though. Jackson still showed no signs of life.

"What was that? What happened?" Mitchell heard Eilerson's voice from the cockpit.

"I can't think of a proper word for it," Galen's answer was vague. "A leap. A trip. A transition."

Teal'c had finished another fifteen compressions, completely uninterrupted by that immeasurable moment when the world had done a reverse somersault with twists.

Mitchell gave another two breaths.

Waiting for his turn again, he happened to glance at the screen on the wall. It showed another ray of the Dodecagon, or maybe the same one they'd come from. Its doors were opening slowly. What the hell was Galen up to?

"Samantha, it's your turn now. I need you to activate the stargate."

"Where to?"

"I don't know. You tell me. It's your universe, after all."

Though Mitchell still felt no heartbeat from Jackson, he could feel his own heart soar at those words. He didn't know how it was possible, he could hardly believe it. Of course, it might not be. Maybe they were just in a universe close to theirs. How could Galen be sure, anyway? How could any of them be sure? They'd have to spend a while in this universe, take a good look at everything and everyone at the SGC, before they could be sure. But if it really was...

Two breaths. No response.

He looked up at the outside again. Either they were now facing the gate room with the ship tilted into a really odd position, or then Galen had switched the view so they saw what was directly below them. The stargate, its chevrons lighting up much faster than on the Earth gate, and then the blue flash of the vortex. Mitchell had never, ever thought it could look this wonderful.

"Sam, you got the GDO?" he just had to check.

"Of course I do!" came her exasperated answer.

A voice distorted by static hissing came through their radios. "SG-1, this is Stargate Command. What's your status? Everything all right?"

"No, everything's not all right! We're coming through. Stand clear from the gate. No, wait--isolate the whole room and get a medical team in hazmat gear," Mitchell yelled to his radio.

The gateship of the Duodecim landed smoothly in front of the gate. There was just enough space for it in the narrow room.

"So, what're we waiting for? Let's go home!" Mitchell exclaimed.

The ship plunged into the shimmering, rippling blue of the event horizon.


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