In Search of Possibilities

The cable swung gently, and Sam’s harness twisted in response. She irritably wrenched herself back into position, grabbing Daniel’s shoulder with her free hand for balance. Startled, he fumbled the brush in his hand, but a quick moment of juggling prevented it from falling into the shaft below.

“Sorry,” Sam muttered. With no free hand to reach for her radio, she tipped her head upwards and shouted, “Teal’c, I’m shifting again!”

The cable jerked once more, then stabilized. “The weather is growing worse, Major Carter,” Teal’c’s voice floated down. “I believe it would be wise of you and Daniel Jackson to finish as quickly as possible.”

“Copy that!” Sam called back.

“Daniel Jackson would like to finish as quickly as possible, too,” Daniel said through gritted teeth. Warily, he reached forward and dabbed the brush into the crevices of the rock, freeing grit and sand. The dust and debris fell in a steady trickle, winking in the beam of Sam’s maglight before disappearing into the darkness.

“You’re doing fine,” she said encouragingly. “That’s the last part of this line. What comes next?”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me, won’t you?” He tucked the brush into the pocket of his vest, then leaned forward in his own harness to blow gently into the crevice, freeing the last bits of dust. Then he shifted back against her for a clearer look. “Okay, run your light across the line for me. Right to left, don’t forget.”

“Got it.” She aimed the strong light at the right-most glyph and slowly panned across the line as Daniel translated aloud. When he was finished, he glanced back at her, raising his brows at her questioningly.

“Go back and read that last part again,” Sam said, frowning a little.

Daniel repeated his translation. “You could try using aspect in place of attitude, if it helps,” he suggested. He let out a frustrated breath. “It would be easier if Atropus used either pure Goa’uld or pure Linear A, instead of this awful mixture of both.”

“No, no, that’s useful,” Sam said almost absently as she tried to picture the formula in her mind. “That would put us… Hm. Okay, six degrees west. And lower by three times seven –”

“Pous,” Daniel supplied.

“Right, okay. And that translates into thirty point eight four centimeters, so…” She made a rapid calculation, then took her hand off Daniel’s shoulder to trigger her radio. “Teal’c, we need to move one point four one meters to the west, and six point four eight meters down. You copy?”

“I do, Major Carter. I am activating the winch now.”

After a moment, the cables jerked and began to move, first to their left and then downwards. Sam watched the shudder that visibly traveled through Daniel’s shoulders, and she squeezed his upper arm in reassurance.

“This will probably be the last one,” she said. “We’ve done six, and you said there will probably be seven, right?”

“Yeah.” She was glad to hear that his voice was calm. “Well, either seven or nine. Let’s hope Atropus didn’t have her own ideas about lucky numbers that aren’t part of Greek mythology.”

They both fell silent, then, as Teal’c carefully maneuvered them into the right position. She could hear the faint thrumming of the generator that powered the winch, but the rising whistle of the wind blowing across the top of the shaft, far above their heads, was steadily growing stronger.

The radio crackled. “How’s it going, kids?” The colonel’s voice was brisk, but it carried undertones of unease and concern.

Daniel reached for his own radio to reply. “It looks like we’re getting close to the finish line, Jack,” he reported. “Hopefully, we’ve got one more line for me to translate and for Sam to calculate. Then we’ll finally get a chance to see just what Atropus was hiding from Cronus here.” And get out of this shaft. Sam could hear the unspoken addition as clearly as if Daniel had actually voiced it.

“Make it as fast as you can. That storm front is coming up in a hurry. I don’t want you two still in there when it hits.”

“Neither do I,” Daniel said fervently, just as they jerked to a stop. “Believe me, we’re working as quickly as possible. We have to take the time to do it right, though, or risk getting the combination wrong.”

“Well, I’d offer to help, Daniel, but it’s all–”

“Don’t say it, Jack. Please.” Daniel gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re still by the door, right?”

“Yes, Daniel.” The drawl sounded amused. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where to go.”

“Jack, if you keep feeding me straight lines like that, I’ll –”

“Major Carter and Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c’s voice cut in. “You should now be placed to continue.”

Daniel’s hand dropped away from his radio, and Sam aimed her light to focus on one of the hundreds of knobs that dotted the walls of the shaft. “According to our calculations, that should be the right one. Go ahead, Daniel.”

“Right.”

She admired the steadiness of his hand as he reached out and pressed the knob inwards. She held her breath, then let it out in a whoosh at the quiet click and slight hum.

“And that makes six,” Daniel said, twisting his head to smile tremulously at her. “One more clue to puzzle out, one more knob to push, and we should finally get that door unlocked so we can get inside.”

She grinned back at him, then refocused her concentration on the wall. “Okay, so let’s get started. Left to right this time?”

“Yeah.” Daniel ran a gentle finger along the wall, clearing away the first layer of dust that had accumulated over the centuries. “And here we go.” He took out his brush and began the painstaking task of clearing out the incised glyphs so they could read what they hoped would be the last clue.

As Sam held the maglight steady for him, she wondered, yet again, exactly what they were going to find. She’d had a grand old time scanning through the data crystals they’d found on Cronus’ hatak after he’d been killed by Teal’c’s double; but the reference to Atropus’ planet, and the research lab where she’d apparently hidden something from Cronus, had been particularly intriguing. She’d studied the file carefully, copied down the Stargate glyphs, and shared the information with her teammates.

Daniel had talked a lot about Greek mythology and the Three Fates, and how that might translate into the Goa’uld who assumed Atropus’ identity. But as far as Sam was concerned, the references to “potentials in spacetime” translated into the opportunity for a real breakthrough in quantum physics. Words that Daniel translated as potentia, and theory, and infinite possibility? It fit too neatly to mean anything else. And the chance to learn something new – something that the Goa’uld themselves had probably gathered from some other race – was too tempting to be missed.

The colonel had grumbled a bit about wasting time on an abandoned planet instead of taking the hatak out for a “test drive,” as he put it. And when she had tried to explain things to him, his flippant references to her cat and Narim had compelled her to remind herself, very forcefully, that the colonel was actually her superior officer, and she couldn’t get mouthy with him even if he needed it rather badly. He had come through for her in the end, though, when the Stargate coordinates gave them a working wormhole. Once the UAV flyover had shown that there were no signs of overt danger, he had supported her request to General Hammond for a mission to P4X-701.

They had emerged onto a stone dais at the edge of a wide, wind-swept plain, with gloomy skies lowering overhead. Sam had made a face at the bad weather, hoping the rain would hold off long enough for them to see just what Atropus had managed to keep hidden from Cronus, despite the Goa’uld’s determination to take it for himself.

The research lab was easy enough to find: a towering marble door, nearly twenty feet high, set flush into the base of a small mountain about three klicks from the Gate. Getting in, however, had been another, more complicated story. There was nothing on or near the door that even suggested a way to get inside.

“C4,” announced the colonel briskly.

“No, Jack!” Daniel protested. “You’d bring the whole mountain down!”

“Even if it does not destroy the laboratory, the explosion might damage the research within,” Teal’c pointed out reasonably.

“Besides, isn’t C4 supposed to be Plan B?”

Sam suppressed a snicker at Daniel’s barb and went for the diplomatic, good junior officer suggestion. “Perhaps we should take a look around first, sir. We might find some way to open it more easily.”

They split in pairs, Teal’c and Daniel heading left while Sam and the colonel went right. They’d gone nearly a quarter of the way around the mountain’s base when Daniel’s excited voice came over the radio.

“Jack! Teal’c found a trail, and I’ve found a marker! This was definitely a path meant for Atropus’ priests. We’re headed up now.”

“Negative, Daniel,” Colonel O’Neill answered crisply. “Wait for us to get there, so we can watch your six.”

“But, Jack…!”

“Understood, O’Neill,” Teal’c said over the radio, his voice smoothly cutting over Daniel’s protests. “We will await your arrival.”

Ten minutes later, Sam and the colonel found Daniel almost dancing with impatience at the foot of the faint trail. Teal’c stood nearby with a calm expression, but the quirk to his eyebrow made his amusement plain.

“Where’s the marker, Daniel?” Sam asked.

“Here!” Daniel darted forward and ran a hand lovingly over a small stone, darker in color than the others and flecked with glints of something like mica. “See this?” His finger stabbed at one symbol, then another. “That’s Linear A, like we found on Pelops’ planet. And these –” He gestured at several other symbols, which looked the same as the first ones as far as Sam could tell. “They’re regular Goa’uld hieroglyphics. The combination is utterly bizarre, to be honest, but I think it’s manageable.”

“And it says…?” prompted the colonel.

“Well, I can’t be certain after just studying it for a few minutes, but –” Daniel ran his fingers over the faded glyphs again. “Acolytes of the divine... That should be seer, I think. Yes. Acolytes of the divine seer can witness the might of Atropus and seek wisdom at her doorway.”

“Her doorway?” Sam repeated.

“The path must lead to the key,” Teal’c observed. “Perhaps Atropus had her own device for opening the door on its own, but left a key for her priests in her absence.”

“But she knew Cronus was sniffing around, right?” Colonel O’Neill squinted up the path. “What are the chances she didn’t take the key with her to make sure Cronus didn’t ransack the place?”

“That’s always a possibility,” Daniel said, brows raised. “On the other hand, the whole point of leaving a key was to let her priests inside. She might have left it guarded, or hidden in a way that only her acolytes could decipher.”

“Would she do that?” Sam asked. “Would she let her priests, or acolytes, or whatevers, actually learn enough to figure things out? I thought the Goa’uld prefer to leave their followers ignorant.”

“Their regular followers, yes,” Daniel said promptly. “But not –” He stopped abruptly, glancing sideways at Teal’c.

“Shau’nac certainly received a better education in her position as priestess,” Teal’c said evenly, with no sign of strain. “But even if Atropus’ priests are taught only by rote and without understanding, their rites might be beyond the comprehension of the Goa’uld’s enslaved followers.”

“So we follow the yellow brick road, then?” Colonel O’Neill said, his voice just a little too brisk. The cheerfully false note made Sam suppress a wince.

“Indeed, O’Neill.” Teal’c strode forward. “I will accompany Daniel Jackson to the summit.”

“I was just going to order that!” the colonel called after the retreating pair, his face grumpy. “Uppity Jaffa,” he muttered, and gestured for Sam to go ahead. She followed the others, smothering the grin that would hardly be respectful to her senior officer.

After fifteen minutes of steady hiking, the group neared the summit. Teal’c was the first to spot the lip of the shaft: smooth, worn by years of exposure, it was clearly not a natural formation. He pointed it out to Daniel, who warily circled the gaping hole in the ground, keeping a careful distance.

“There are glyphs carved along the rim,” he muttered to himself. He edged forwards, maintaining enough of a distance that the colonel didn’t seem to feel the need to haul him back to safety by the scruff of his jacket. “Very faded.” He actually sat right down on the rocky slope in order to scoot closer, and Sam suddenly remembered that he wasn’t fond of heights. Taking off his glasses, he squinted at the symbols. “It starts… over there.” He shuffled back, stood, paced six feet to the left, and sat down again. For nearly twenty minutes, he studied the hieroglyphics, edging along the circumference of the shaft. Then he sat back and turned to look at the others.

“It’s absolute gibberish,” he said flatly. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to decipher this.”

“Good!” said the colonel heartily. “Let’s go home. First dibs on the peltak.”

“Wait a minute. Daniel, isn’t there something you can do to make the translation easier? Maybe the Tok’ra could –”

“No,” said Teal’c, his voice dangerously flat, and Sam bit her lip in consternation. Shau’nac. Tanith. The days when Teal’c had sincerely respected the Tok’ra were long gone.

“No way!” said the colonel. Sam glared at him, and he hastily added, “Well, maybe Jacob. If we really, really have to.”

“Sir,” she said, allowing her exasperation to color her tone, “this has nothing to do with my father’s status as a Tok’ra. If Daniel’s right and we can’t figure this out on our own, the Tok’ra might be our only resource for deciphering this puzzle.”

“They’re already trying to borrow our hatak,” Colonel O’Neill said plaintively. “Do we have to let them in on this, too?”

“I doubt the Tok’ra could help me with the translation, anyway,” Daniel said, his voice diplomatically soothing. “It’s not a problem of reading it, Sam. The directions Atropus left are clear enough. The problem is that it doesn’t make sense. And some of it seems to be symbols.”

“Are they not all symbols, Daniel Jackson?”

“Symbols that don’t seem to have any meaning, Teal’c,” Daniel amended. “Symbols that don’t correspond to anything I’ve seen in any kind of Goa’uld dialect, or Linear A or Linear B.”

“Maybe it’s a code,” Sam suggested, coming to squat down in the dust at Daniel’s side.

He gave her a tired smile. “I have no idea what kind of code would refer to many space in single point or angled… no, I’d made that square…a square something. Container, maybe. Or pit.”

Sam started. “Daniel, that’s quantum mathematics. Basic stuff.”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Quantum mathematics disputes the concept of a point that doesn’t occupy space. And your angled pit is probably the same thing as square well. It’s a classic problem in quantum mathematics: the particle in a box. Delta function potentials.” She scooted closer to the edge of the shaft. “Show me those symbols you were talking about, the ones that didn’t make sense. Are there any glyphs here that might mean equals or something similar? Or maybe you could –”

“Carter,” Colonel O’Neill interrupted, “would you care to explain what you’re talking about?” He had taken off his cap, and was now slapping it irritably against his leg.

“Just a moment, sir. Daniel and I might be able to work this out together.”

“Sam, I don’t understand calculus, much less quantum mathematics!”

She patted his arm reassuringly. “I’ll handle the mathematics,” she promised. “Show me the symbols. Equals?”

“Not equals, but… Hm.” Daniel, looking interested again, scanned the incised glyphs on the rim. He pointed out several to Sam, who was leaning over his shoulder by now. “This one here, and this one, see? It’s obvious, even to someone who doesn’t read hieroglyphs, that they aren’t regular symbols…”

“Obvious to you,” Sam said with an affectionate nudge. She pointed to the glyph between the two that Daniel had indicated. “And what does that one mean?”

“Not equals,” Daniel said again, squinting. “I would say level, or maybe uniform.” His eyes widened. “Which is… pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”

“This is a formula, Daniel!” Without so much as an ‘excuse me,’ Sam rummaged in the front pocket of his vest and pulled out his customary pad and pencil. She realized what she was doing and gave him a sheepish glance, but he only looked amused.

“Okay,” she said, recovering her composure. “Let’s give this symbol –” She pointed. “ – a value of K, that symbol a value of J…”

“Those aren’t the usual letters you use, are they?”

“No, but I can reassign values when I’ve gotten a little further. This is just to get us started.”

“Right. So I’ll give you the words in between…”

“…And I’ll see if it works out to a viable formula.”

“Oh, children!”

Both Sam and Daniel stopped in mid-babble and turned to look at Colonel O’Neill with surprise.

“Explain what you’re doing. Use little bitty words.” He jammed his cap back onto his head with a frustrated huff.

“Give us a minute, Jack.”

“You’ve had several already.”

“Sir,” Sam said, as patiently as possible, “we’ve just determined that I might be able to understand the symbols that Daniel can’t. He’s going to translate for me and we’ll see if we’re right or not.”

“Fine!” the colonel huffed.

Sam turned back to the intriguing problem, trying to put her CO’s annoyance out of her mind. She knew he wasn’t happy about this mission, and that he’d prefer to be either back at the base or prowling the corridors of their newly acquired hatak. But she did wish he wouldn’t take it out on them.

“Teal’c and I will keep watch,” he added, coming a step closer. He leaned over Daniel’s shoulder, evidently trying to peer down the shaft and estimate its depth. He stepped back, made a face, and glared at them both. “Both of you had better keep both feet on the ground!”

The colonel’s command, it turned out, hadn’t been all that easy to obey. Sam and Daniel had spent a quarter of an hour huddled together, trying various translations of different words and discarding those that couldn’t fit into a mathematical context. To Sam’s carefully concealed surprise, the end result had been something that actually made sense.

“As far as we can tell, sir,” she reported, “This shaft is a puzzle of sorts, created by Atropus with the expectation that only her priests could navigate it. There are hundreds of lines incised into the shaft, with a sort of knob presenting every few lines around the circumference of the shaft. The priests are directed to descend the shaft and follow the directions as given by the mathematical formulae incised into the walls of the shaft, activating the right knobs to create a combination for –”

“Whoa! Stop right there, Major.” Colonel O’Neill looked from Sam to Daniel with an expression of incredulity. “I did not just hear you suggest that the two of you climb down that thing!”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, no,” Daniel agreed. He glanced at the shaft, then turned away hurriedly. He licked his lips, looking queasy.

“What happens if a priest has a bad headache one day and gets his fractions wrong?” the colonel asked pointedly. “Do your math problems say anything about that?”

“Not exactly,” Sam hedged.

“But we can make a fairly good guess, can’t we?” The colonel edged over to the lip of the shaft and peered downwards again. “It looks like a moot point, Major. I can see where there were rungs once upon a time, and some – ledges, I guess…”

“Platforms,” Daniel said. “It wasn’t just up or down. There was a lateral element, too.”

“Okay, platforms. Up, down, sideways. There are a few of those, but they don’t look like they’re in very good shape.” He straightened up and gave Sam a steady stare. “You’re going to have to give up on this one, Major.”

“Maybe not,” Sam said insistently. “Sir, from what Daniel translated, the priests used to climb down the rungs and move along the platforms, which were situated every couple of feet, in order to activate the right knobs. That’s no longer an option, obviously. But you’ve been making Daniel take all those practice climbs up Pike’s Peak…”

“Uh, Sam,” said Daniel, very quietly. “I really don’t think…”

“You are suggesting that we bring a winch and generator,” Teal’c observed. “We could lower you and Daniel Jackson into the shaft, adjusting the height and position as necessary.”

“Exactly!” Sam couldn’t curb her enthusiasm. “We’ve already figured out the first one. We need to start here –” She tapped the last word of the formula incised in the rim. “– and move three degrees to the east and descend the length of three times two, or six…” She trailed off and glanced inquiringly at Daniel.

“Pous,” Daniel said.

“And what are those when they’re at home?”

“It’s an ancient Greek length of measurement, Jack,” Daniel clarified. He brightened up a little. “About thirty-one centimeters. That depends on the era, of course, but based on the mythology of Cronus in regards to Atropus, I can narrow that down. Let me check my notes.” He started for his pack, which he’d dropped on the ground when he first began his translation efforts. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have the exact conversion there...”

“Let’s go back to this insane idea about the two of you lowering yourself into a deep pit that is probably lined with Goa’uld booby-traps,” suggested the colonel.

“Sir, I don’t think it’s dangerous as long as we have the right knowledge. The winch can place us at the correct spot. At that point, we have to push the knob situated at exactly that point and read the next formula , which will direct us to –”

“What about all the other lines?” demanded the colonel. “Are you going to have to sit there and translate each one? Because the hockey season starts next month, and I don’t want to still be here.”

“No, sir,” Sam said patiently. “That’s the whole point. The formula tells us exactly where we need to go in the shaft in order to push the right knob and read the next formula on the list.”

Daniel looked up from rummaging in his pack to add, “If we do this, Jack, then I’m guessing that once we hit all the right knobs, the door will either slide up on its own, or we’ll find a key of some kind hidden by the final knob.”

“How many do you think there will be, then?”

Sam hesitated and frowned. “The translations and formulae didn’t specify, sir,” she admitted. She looked at Daniel. “Is there any number that’s common in Greek mythology?”

Daniel closed his eyes, tapping at his mouth with steepled fingers as he considered. “Probably seven,” he said, opening his eyes again. “Three would be too quick and easy. Both three and seven were considered holy numbers in Ancient Greece. We’ve got Atropus directing the priests to descend in multiples of three – three times two, in this first case. If Atropus used one number, she probably used the other one as well. So I’d say seven, although nine – that’s three times three – is also a possibility.”

There was a long, uneasy silence. Sam studied her teammates’ faces. Daniel’s fingers still fiddled with his pack, and he was staring off into the distance; she couldn’t tell if it was his fear of heights, or some other emotion, that was affecting him, but she recognized his usual avoidance tactics. Teal’c’s face was as calm as always, although the gleam in his eyes suggested his anticipation at beating Cronus at his own game, even after the Goa’uld’s death. As for the colonel…

“Let’s hope for seven, then,” Colonel O’Neill finally grumbled, making his decision. “All right. Teal’c, you and I will head back to the Gate to requisition supplies. Carter, you and Daniel keep an eye on this place until we get back.”

During the hours-long delay, while the colonel had explained the situation to the general and the necessary equipment had been loaded onto a FRED, Sam and Daniel had continued to study the inscription, refining their translation and familiarizing themselves with the dialect. By the time the generator and the winch had been installed at the edge of the shaft, with the specialized equipment that would allow Teal’c to make exact calibrations, Sam had estimated that sunset was only two hours off. Colonel O’Neill had flatly refused to allow them to even consider making the attempt so close to dusk. Tomorrow, he insisted, would arrive soon enough.

They made camp at the base of the mountain, close to the frustratingly blank door to Atropus’ lab. Daniel and Sam got little eating done during supper, as they were too busy discussing the evolution of Atropus’ persona as the Fate that determined the future and the role of quantum mathematics. The colonel finally put a halt to the conversation and assigned watches for the night.

As the planet’s tiny moon struggled to peek through the intermittent rain clouds, the team prepared for what they hoped would be a quiet night. Daniel had first watch, but Sam stayed up instead of crawling into her own sleeping bag. She needed to know why he was so uneasy.

“Daniel, you’re not worried about the translations, are you?” she tried. “I told you – once we got the terminology right, the formula itself was pretty straightforward. I suppose we’ll have to spend a little time working out each individual clue, but I don’t think we’ll have any real trouble.”

He looked at her sideways for a long moment. “You know I’m not real fond of heights,” he said finally.

She bit her lip. “If you want to sit this out…?” she offered tentatively. “I could videotape the glyphs, or something, and return to the top of the shaft to let you work on it there.”

“No, that would take much too long. And if you missed something, it wouldn’t even work.” He gave a one-sided shrug. “I’m just uncomfortable about this whole mission, Sam. We don’t know what Atropus was hiding from Cronus. You’re convinced that it’s something to do with mathematics. Jack is hoping for a big honkin’ space gun, but he’s always hoping for that.” He ducked his head a little at her grin. “I have no idea what we’re going to find, Sam, but I can’t imagine it being as wonderful as you seem to think it will be.”

“Why not?” Sam challenged. “Atropus was one of the three Fates, right? And even the Greek gods were afraid of the Fates. So whatever Atropus was keeping from Cronus, it was either something powerful in its own right, or knowledge that Cronus could have applied for his own benefit. Why wouldn’t that be something good?”

Daniel shrugged. “I just can’t see anything good coming out of the stuff we learned from killing Cronus and taking over his ship.”

“How can you say that?” she demanded, taken aback. “The military intel we gained from the mothership’s data crystals alone –”

“It cost too much, Sam,” he said softly. “And I wasn’t there to help pay the price.”

Sam looked down at her hands, feeling conflicted. She knew that Colonel O’Neill was fiercely stubborn about the legitimacy of the robots’ claims to be… how had he put it in the briefing? “Real.” Daniel, on the other hand, had passionately argued on the robots’ behalf on his return to the SGC, insisting that they had been fully sentient beings who had sacrificed their lives for the others’ sakes and deserved to be properly mourned. So where did she fit in this equation? As a scientist, she intellectually considered the robots to be nothing more than incredibly sophisticated machines. And yet…

She could address Daniel’s second concern, at least. “I know you’re unhappy about how often the team has been apart,” she said, rubbing his arm gently. “I have a feeling that it’s not going to happen that much, any more. Juna was too painful without you, Daniel.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said after a moment. He tilted his head at her, raising his brows with a faint smile.

“It’s a promise,” she agreed. “Besides, someone has to remember to bring the good coffee on missions!”

He’d chuckled then, and they sat silently, companiably together for some time, until Sam finally rose and went to her sleeping bag to get some rest before her own turn at watch.

When morning arrived, as wet and blustery as the day before, the team had followed the procedure they had discussed the previous evening. Colonel O’Neill had remained at the base of the mountain, watching the sealed door and keeping in contact with the others via the radio. Teal’c had accompanied Sam and Daniel back to the summit and helped them into the sturdy harnesses the SGC had sent. Daniel hadn’t looked very happy as he straddled the lip of the shaft and prepared for that first drop into the depths; but Sam knew that he trusted Teal’c, as she did, to keep them safe.

Sam was delighted when they found one of the knobs precisely where she’d predicted it would be. Daniel carefully reached out, twiddled it, and discovered that it could be pushed firmly inwards. As he did so, they both heard a distinct click and a faint hum.

“Yes!” Sam waved a fist in triumph. “We’re on the right track!”

“Good work, Sam,” Daniel smiled back at her. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, though. Sam realized that he must have half-hoped they would have to abort the mission.

“It’ll be fine,” she told him gently.

He gave her a more natural smile, then, and reached for the radio on his vest. “Jack, Teal’c, we’ve solved the formula on the rim correctly. We’re starting the second one now.”

As they worked on the second translation, though, it began to look as if their first success was going to be their last. No matter how many alternate translations Daniel suggested, it seemed to be complete gibberish.

“That makes no sense,” Sam said finally, shaking her head. “Daniel, are you sure?”

“No,” he admitted readily. “But this might be…” He licked his lips contemplatively. “We might be dealing with a case of boustrophedon here.”

“With what?”

“Literally, ‘as the ox turns.’ Anatolian hieroglyphics.” He traced a pattern on the wall with his finger, dragging it back and forth. “Imagine an ox, plowing a field. When it gets to the end of one row, it turns right around and plows in the opposite direction.”

Sam grinned. “So, the first clue was written from right to left. And now we should try reading it from left to right?”

“Let’s see what happens,” Daniel agreed.

They tried it. And it worked.

It had worked six times, so far. And now Daniel was ready to read the final passage to her: the one they hoped would lead to the last knob and the unlocking of the door to Atropus’ lab.

She played her light over the glyphs, concentrating hard as Daniel translated aloud for her. She repeated one part of the passage to herself more than once under her breath before she finalized her calculation.

“A bigger drop this time,” she announced. “That makes sense if it’s the last one, I guess. Two degrees east, and three times ten – that is, thirty pous down.”

“Thirty?” Daniel twisted and frowned at her. “Sam, I’m not questioning your mathematics, but… So far, we’ve increased the distance, either up or down, by one pous at a time – okay, by three pous at a time. Six down, nine down, twelve up, fifteen down, eighteen down, twenty-one down. Shouldn’t we get twenty-four now? Why would the factor suddenly jump from seven to ten?”

Sam hesitated, a fragment of something floating in her mind, just out of reach. Seven jumping to ten…

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Read it again?”

Daniel reread the formula aloud, even more slowly than before.

Sam considered the problem, then shrugged. “I agree that it’s a bit strange, Daniel, but that’s how it works out.”

“Sam, if you’re not sure…” Daniel’s unease was translating itself into nervous gestures again as he fiddled with the straps on his harness.

“I’m sure,” she insisted. “I don’t know why there’s that sudden jump in figures, but the formula reads true.”

“Maybe it’s deliberate,” Daniel said, but his voice sounded doubtful. “A way to trick any person who isn’t one of Atropus’ priests.”

“Maybe.”

A sudden boom sounded overhead. Startled, they jerked in their harnesses, setting the cables swinging. As they clutched at one another in an effort to stop from rotating, their radios crackled.

“Pack it up, kids,” said the colonel briskly. “The rain’s getting harder, and I’m seeing flashes of lightning. The generator and the winch are going to make one sweet lightning rod on the top of the mountain, and we don’t have a Stargate we need to activate at the moment.”

Daniel fumbled for his radio. “Jack, we’re on the last clue! If we stop now, we’ll have to start all over again!”

“Daniel…”

“Jack!”

“It’s getting a little too dangerous, Daniel!”

Daniel licked his lips. “I don’t want to have to do this a second time, Jack.”

A moment’s silence. Then, “Carter – how long will it take?”

“Teal’c has to get us down to the final knob, sir,” Sam reported. “Once we push it, we hope the door will open for you automatically. Then Teal’c can pull us back up, quick.”

Static crackled over the open radio for nearly half a minute. “All right,” Colonel O’Neill said at last. “But if the door doesn’t open – Carter, I’m ordering you to get out of there as soon as you press the last knob, whether or not it’s successful.”

Sam grimaced. “Yes, sir,” she said reluctantly. “Teal’c?”

“I am listening, Major Carter.”

“Move us one point six one meters to the east, and nine point two five meters downwards.”

“Please stand by.”

As they waited for Teal’c to set the precise measurements on the winch, Sam felt the first spatters of rain striking her head and shoulders. She exchanged a nervous glance with Daniel. If the rain was already penetrating this deeply into the shaft, the storm must have reached full intensity in minutes.

“Major Carter.” Teal’c’s voice carried a clear undercurrent of worry. “I estimate that your latest calculations will put you nearly at the bottom of the shaft. Are you quite certain?”

Sam made a face. “As certain as we’re going to be, Teal’c. We have to try this now, or abandon the project until some other date – which means it might not happen at all.”

“Indeed. I am activating the winch now.”

As they dropped further into the depths, Sam chewed on her lower lip, going over the calculations yet a third time in her head. It had to be ten. That was how the formula worked out. But why the jump from seven to ten…?

That niggling something nudged at her brain again, but when she tried to chase after it, it sneered and vanished.

They stopped moving. Sam aimed the light downward, then winced. Teal’c had been right; they were less than five meters from the bottom of the shaft. Forcing her mind back to the current situation, Sam focused her light at the wall in front of them. Sure enough, there was another knob right there.

“Go for it, Daniel,” she said quietly.

Daniel gave her one last look, then reached out. Sam couldn’t help but hold her breath. If she was right, then they were about to uncover the secrets locked in Atropus’ lab.

Daniel pressed the knob down hard.

Nothing happened.

He turned and stared at her, his eyes widening even further in the gloom. Every other time, they’d heard a click and a hum…

“We were wrong!” Daniel screamed into the radio. “Pull us up, Teal’c, now!”

For a long, agonizing second, nothing happened. Then there was a huge jerk, and they began to move – more rapidly than they had until now, but still much too slowly.

The whole shaft trembled. Lightning flashed above. Somewhere below their feet, something rumbled, menacing and low. A furious, monotonous stream of curses flowed from her radio; the colonel’s voice was interrupted only by his panting breaths, as he clearly raced up the mountain path to get to Teal’c and help him haul them both to safety.

Daniel’s gaze was fixed firmly upwards, oblivious to the rain splattering on his face, as if he was mentally urging the winch to move faster; but Sam pointed her maglight downwards just in time to see the northernmost bottom of the shaft crumble. Rocks tumbled onto the floor of the shaft, and then something glinted in the light, fixed into the wall…

Or not. Whatever it was shifted, and tilted, and groaned under the weight of stones shaking loose. And then it fell backwards, into the shaft –

And landed with a crash that echoed upwards, nearly deafening them both. Whatever it was, it was fixed in a frame and was nearly four meters across. Just a little too big to lie flat at the shaft’s bottom, it lay on a slight angle, the frame propped up slightly by the opposite wall. Sam could now see that the reflecting glint she’d witnessed before must have come from the frame itself; whatever lay within the frame was a deep, inky black, made of some kind of material that swallowed up the beam of her maglight as if it didn’t even exist.

Still staring downwards with fixed, horrified fascination, Sam saw the spark that ran across that dark surface, calm as black ice. The spark raced from edge to edge, leaving a trail of blue fire in its wake. Then the line of blue pooled rapidly outward, spreading across the dull surface like liquid mercury. In seconds, the frame was filled entirely with that blue glow, not quite the same as the event horizon effect of a Stargate…

There was a flash that nearly blinded her, and then Sam was staring at a sunlit sky, skewed and off-kilter, as if through a picture window. One edge showed a curve of weathered stone of a reddish color. A sparrow-like bird flitted across her vision from one side of the frame to the next, disappearing from view.

And with a sick feeling of dread, Sam suddenly knew exactly how Atropus, one of the three Fates of Greek mythology, went hand-in-hand with quantum mathematics.

“Daniel!” she shrieked, trying to be heard over the din of crashing rock, the continuous percussion of thunder, and the shrill whine of the overworked generator overhead. “It’s a quantum mirror!”

Daniel’s head jerked around, and he stared between his feet at the scene below him. He gave a choking gasp and clutched frantically at the straps of her harness.

“What happens if we fall into that?” he croaked. “From this height?”

“I don’t know!” she yelled back. “We might come out at the same speed we go through. Does kinetic energy translate through the mirror, the way it does through the Stargate?”

“How should I know?” Daniel’s eyes closed, and a massive shudder ran through him. “I don’t want to find out. I’ve gone through enough mirrors –”

Sam fumbled for her radio, knowing it was close to impossible for either Teal’c or the colonel to hear her over the noise. “Sir!” she bellowed. “Atropus was keeping a quantum mirror in her lab, and it just fell over, into the shaft! And it’s on, sir! If we fall, we’re going to end up going through it!”

“I will not allow that to happen, Major Carter!” Teal’c’s booming voice crackled over the radio, a balm in itself. “You are only ten meters from the surface of the shaft.”

Sam tilted her head upwards, squinting to look through the pouring rain. Lightning tore across the narrow path of sky overhead in almost continuous flashes, but she could just make out the dark silhouette of Teal’c’s upper body, leaning dangerously into the shaft to help guide their cables. He was only eight meters away, now…

A jagged stroke of lightning darted downward, stabbing at the generator perched so invitingly at the mountain’s peak. Teal’c’s reassuring bulk suddenly disappeared, and the stink of ozone filled the shaft.

With a scream of tortured metal, Sam’s cable suddenly went slack. She had just enough time to register that they were both dropping before the bruising force of Daniel’s fingers clamped down on her upper arms. She felt an agonizing wrench and realized with horror that while Daniel’s cable had held, hers had not.

She clutched at his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him, burying her face in his shoulder for protection as the severed end of her cable came snaking down on them both in a long, heavy coil. It narrowly missed her and tumbled into the shaft below. Risking a quick glimpse, she could just make out the severed end, lying in a sprawling loop on the surface of the mirror.

“Sam,” breathed a voice in her ear, seconds or millennia later.

She picked up her head and stared into Daniel’s face, only inches from her own. His face was white, and his eyes, blurred behind the wet lenses of his glasses, were a little too wide and fixed.

“You’ve got me,” she said gently. “I’m okay.”

“Yes. Yes. Thank you.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. She carefully adjusted her grip, feeling him cautiously do the same. “Have we moved at all? In either direction?”

“Not in the last several seconds, no.” She kept her voice level and matter-of-fact; she needed him to get past his panic. “We have to let Teal’c and the colonel know we’re all right.”

“We are, aren’t we?” His smile was shaky, but at least he was trying.

Sam hid a sigh of relief, knowing it would be much easier for the two of them to get out of this mess if they were both calm. “I think we should complain to the landlord about the leaks in the roof, but otherwise…”

Daniel actually chuckled a little at her weak attempt at humor. His face was streaked with rainwater, and his clothing was soaked, as was hers; but his hold on her was sure and strong, and she could see that he was in control of himself now. “Can you reach your radio?” he asked. “Or mine?”

Before she could try, both radios crackled at them. “Carter! Daniel! Tell me you’re both alive down there!”

Despite the situation, Sam couldn’t help the grin that quirked at her mouth at the colonel’s furious voice. Daniel’s eyes crinkled in response.

Carefully, ready to clamp back down on his shoulders if she slipped, she inched one hand down towards the radio attached to Daniel’s vest. The colonel continued to bark into the radio.

“Talk to me. Talk to me! I need to know I’m not talking to myself!”

“Sir,” Sam finally managed. “We’re both alive. We’re both okay. Daniel’s holding on to me.”

There was a long moment of silence before the colonel’s voice came again. “Daniel, how long can you hold out?”

“We’re okay, Jack.” Daniel squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “For the next couple of minutes, anyway.”

“Sir, what happened?”

“Lightning,” the colonel answered succinctly. “Took out the generator. Snapped your cable, Carter. And Daniel’s isn’t –” He cut himself off abruptly, but Sam still had that vivid, sickening memory of the way both of them had started to fall. Daniel’s cable must have been damaged, too.

“Jack, is Teal’c all right?”

“Ah, he will be.” After another pause, the colonel added, “He wasn’t struck by lightning. Just knocked out from the force of the blast. Junior will have him up and helping in just a few –”

His voice cut off again. It took another minute before he replied, but his voice was brisk and professional now, fully in control. “I’m going to have to work the winch manually. The cable is damaged, so it’s going to have to go slowly. I need to know now if that’s going to be a problem.”

“Sir, if you’ll give me a moment, I’ll fasten our harnesses together. That should make things easier for Daniel.”

Daniel nodded at her. “But she can’t do that and talk to you on the radio at the same time, Jack,” he said, aiming his voice towards the radio. “After we’re safely secured to each other, we’ll talk some more. Okay?”

“Right.” Then, after another second, “Be careful, Daniel. You and Carter both.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sam, and let go of the radio.

Another crackle of lightning struck overhead, momentarily making the dark shaft as bright as full noon. Daniel’s pale face leapt into stark relief, then faded back into the gloom of the pouring rain.

“I’ve got you,” he told her, gripping her arms just a little more tightly. “Keep your movements slow and careful, but do whatever you have to do.”

“Okay. Here goes nothing, I guess.”

Careful to avoid any abrupt movements that might jostle Daniel’s hold on her, Sam slowly reached down to the sturdy leather harness fastened over her shoulders and between her legs. First, she released the useless cable, watching as it dropped silently away from her to land in a huge, coiled heap on the mirror’s surface. Then she tried to maneuver the metal clips and clamp them to Daniel’s harness, but she found herself constricted by Daniel’s determined grip.

“Daniel,” she said gently. “You’re going to have to let go of my right arm.”

“Are you crazy?” His fingers tightened further, and Sam tried to suppress her wince at the painful hold.

“I can’t clip us together if you don’t let me move a little bit. Look, you’ve got my left arm. I’ve got your shoulder. I’ve got my legs wrapped around yours.” She kept her voice low and soothing, knowing that while he was calm, panic was still lurking beneath the surface. “We’ll be safer if you let go, Daniel.”

“I’m not letting go of you,” he said flatly. “Work around it.”

She glared at him, squirming to try and reach the elusive clips and fasten them into place. “It’s more dangerous if I can’t do this!” she snapped, feeling her own temper starting to erode.

“I am not letting go of you!”

She realized that it was too much to ask of him, and resigned herself to some acrobatic stretching and gyrations. She finally managed to clamp the metal clips to Daniel’s harness, securing them together on both sides. When she was done, the two of them were locked in an embarrassing parody of a close embrace; but at least now she wouldn’t fall, even if Daniel’s strength failed.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Doctor Jackson,” she muttered in his ear. “What would SG-4 say if they could see us now?”

He huffed a laugh back at her, and she felt a surge of relief that he was still in control.

She reached for her own radio. “We’re secured, sir,” she reported. “How’s Teal’c doing?”

“Teal’c… is still out, Major, but I think… he’ll be fine.” The colonel’s voice came through the radio in breathless gasps.

Daniel frowned. “Jack, what’s going on?”

“This… thing doesn’t… want to stay… put!”

They both felt a jerk on the cable. The only problem was that it was downwards.

Sam and Daniel, faces only inches apart, stared at one another.

“The generator and the winch are going over the edge,” Daniel said softly as they slipped another few inches downwards.

“I heard that,” the colonel snapped over the radio. “And I’m… trying to make… sure it doesn’t… happen!”

Sam swallowed hard. “Sir, stay away from the edge of the shaft. If you fall down here –”

“That’s not going… to happen, Carter.”

Daniel twisted his head to stare downwards at the mirror, shimmering nearly twenty meters below them. “Sam, would we survive a fall of fifty or sixty feet?” he asked, too quietly for the radio to pick up. The cable jerked again, and they dropped another six inches.

“Maybe,” she said, her voice equally soft. “A lot of it would depend on how kinetic energy is absorbed by the mirror.”

“And we’d go through it to the other side.”

“Yes.”

Daniel’s eyes were bleak, but calm. “He’s not going to be able to pull us out, is he?”

“He can’t lift both of us. We’ll have to climb.”

“That’s… a little more than I might be able to do, Sam.” The painful honesty in his voice made her heart ache.

“You won’t have to,” she promised. “Once my weight is off the cable, the colonel will find it easier to pull you up. And I’ll be able to help, too.”

“You might fall. You won’t have any safety line.”

“I’ve tackled harder climbs in basic training, Daniel. I’ll be okay.”

He closed his eyes, then opened then with a resigned expression. “Right.” He raised his voice enough for the radio to broadcast. “Jack, just keep the winch from going over the edge. Sam is going to climb up the cable.”

The pause before the colonel was able to reply was just a little too long for Sam’s peace of mind. “I think… might not be… enough time.”

“I’m coming up, sir,” Sam said. She licked her lips. “Daniel, just hold on. It’s going to be okay.” She didn’t wait for the colonel’s reply; he probably didn’t have a hand to spare to activate his radio. She reached out to release the metal clasps that offered the slight security of keeping her attached to Daniel’s harness. Even if she fell, the reduced weight might allow the colonel to pull Daniel up on his own…

“Sam, wait.”

“There’s no time, Daniel.” She’d worked the first clip loose.

“No, listen. Wait a minute.” Daniel was staring down at the mirror again, his eyebrows furrowed in that way that told her that his mind was racing furiously. “Sam, why isn’t your cable going through the mirror to the other side?”

“What?” Sam blinked at the non sequitur, then twisted her own neck so she could stare downwards. Daniel was right. The severed cable lay in twists and coils on the surface of the mirror. While it had slid along the slanted surface to pile up on the northern side, it was clearly touching an active quantum mirror – and it wasn’t going through.

Neither was the rain, she noticed. The downpour of the last several minutes was enough to cause an actual puddle that trickled over the edge of the canted frame.

“Non-organic material doesn’t go through?” she hazarded. “Or non-sentient, maybe?”

“Maybe it’s not working,” Daniel said, sounding almost hopeful. “Maybe this is a different kind of quantum mirror that only shows what’s on the other side, but doesn’t allow transfers.”

“Or maybe only a person can actually go through,” Sam said thoughtfully. The cable jerked badly, and they dropped by nearly a foot.

“But I’m guessing that anything attached to us would go through with us.”

“Like the cable still attached to us,” Sam said slowly. “And…”

“And the generator,” Daniel finished. “And if it lands on us, it’ll kill us.”

Sam bit her lip, staring down at the mirror as they dropped another several inches before jarring to a halt. “But if we disconnect the cable from the harnesses, we would fall through, and the generator wouldn’t.”

“Sam, falling into another universe is not on my list of things to do today!”

“Daniel, we have to.” She jerked her head back up to stare directly into his panicked face. “We have to release the cable and let ourselves go.”

“Sam, we can’t! How will we get back? The mirror turned itself on because it was damaged, right? What if it turns itself off?”

They slid a little further down, and they didn’t need the radio any more to hear the sound of the colonel’s furious cursing. “Maybe we’ll find a controller on the other side,” Sam said. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but I’d rather risk being trapped than be sure of being crushed.”

“No.” He looked agonized. “I’m not going through the mirror again. We’re not getting separated from Jack and Teal’c.”

She flinched, remembering their conversation the night before. “If I do it myself, the colonel might be able to pull you up, and then the three of you could –”

He glared at her, suddenly obviously furious, and reached out, reclipping the clasp that she’d loosened. “We’re doing this together, Sam. It’s better than being dead.”

“Daniel…”

Daniel activated his radio. “Jack, stop trying to haul us up. Let us down.”

The colonel didn’t reply via radio, but they could hear his voice, faintly. “Are you nuts?”

“Trust me, Jack.” Daniel’s face was miserable, but his voice stayed determined.

The infuriated howl drifted clearly down the shaft, despite the storm: “Dammit, Daniel!”

“Sir, we have to go through the mirror until things calm down here!” Sam shouted hurriedly into the radio. “We’ll stay right by the mirror and wait until the storm dies down and we can figure out a way to get safely back. But if we fall from this height, it could kill us, so let us down!”

“Do it, Jack, please!” Daniel yelled. “If that generator falls before we go through the mirror, we’re dead!”

Colonel O’Neill’s enraged bellow, distorted by the storm, was still distinct. “You two had better stay alive, or I’ll kill you both myse-”

They dropped suddenly downwards – much too rapidly for it to be a controlled descent. Even as Sam jerked her head upwards in horror to see the huge bulk of the generator toppling over the edge of the shaft, she was conscious of Daniel fumbling with the release to the cable that was their former lifeline…

Then they were falling, feet first, into a puddle of clear blue sky on the bottom of a shaft within a mountain.

And then they weren’t there.

***