This is planned to be a crossover story set in Terry Pratchett's Discworld and featuring Stargate SG-1, Batman and possibly also some Narnia characters. I know that sounds like I'm not sure where I'm going with this... But I am. Sort of.

None of these characters are mine, they are the property of Terry Pratchett, and MGM for the Stargate characters. Enjoy and please review!

The Squid of Time and His Multi-Dimensional Trousers

Chapter One: Time is a Giant Squid

It is a well documented fact that, in a world that floats through space on the back of a giant turtle, it is still possible to find physicists. And like physicists everywhere, they like to tinker with the very fabric of the universe.

His Grace the Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes, Ankh-Morpork City Watch, was of the opinion that the universe would probably much rather be left alone. He was also of the opinion that he had a long enough name for at least three people, and he still wasn't being paid enough for this kind of thing.

The wizards of Unseen University were giving an informative lecture followed by a rather expansive lunch; as a lowly Watch Commander, Sam Vimes wouldn't even have heard about it, but His Grace the Duke of Ankh was expected to attend.

Vimes fidgeted impatiently in his chair. He liked wizards. They stayed in the University and never did much besides laying on large meals, dozing in the Uncommon Room and trying to avoid the students. They never committed any crimes, which was fortunate because Vimes wasn't sure what shape he'd end up in if he ever tried to arrest one of them. But he didn't trust magic, and the less he heard about it the better, because hearing how the fabric of space-time was going to be untangled was making him uneasy.

It was probably making the fabric of space-time a little uneasy too.

Vimes sighed - and it must have been audible, because Lady Sybil turned and gave him a stern look.

"Sorry, dear," he whispered. Sybil Vimes was a large, kindly woman capable of generating a vast aura of good-natured, 'buck up, you chaps' cheerfulness around her that was in constant conflict with the natural Sam Vimes cynicism.

Recently, it seemed to be winning.

"Try and pay attention," Sybil murmured. "It's really very interesting."

"I'm sure it is," Vimes replied, unconvinced. "But there're more important things I could be doing."

"The Watch can manage without you for an hour or so."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Young Sam will be fine with the nanny," Sybil assured him. "Miss Beatrice is very experienced."

"I know," Vimes sighed. "It's just that --"

"I know, Sam," Sybil said firmly. "Now be quiet and listen."

Kids! When they were other peoples', they were just squealing, irritating little brats; or incomprehensible and disobedient wretches. But when they were your own, suddenly they became... amazing. And it was hard to remain cynical when faced with a tiny, perfect replica of your own smile.

Vimes wondered if this was what people meant by 'going soft'.

Up on stage, the speaker was having trouble. This was because the speaker was Ponder Stibbons; a young man whose research projects and theories were incomprehensible to everyone except the Bursar, a man kept on a regular dose of dried frog pills in order to pass for only mildly insane. Ponder was naturally curious, permanently distracted and better suited to life inside some quiet, well-ordered laboratory than the somewhat robust social politics of the Unseen University. He was running into difficulty because the Archchancellor, Mustrum Ridcully, was sitting in the front row and trying, with little success, to understand him.

"So what you're saying, Mr Stibbons, is that there're other worlds out there somewhere?" Ridcully asked.

"Yes, Archchancellor," Ponder said. "In fact, there may be an infinite number --"

"Makes sense, if you ask me," Ridcully went on, oblivious. "I mean, if I was a damn great world turtle, I'd want someone to talk to every now and then. Compare continental drift, weather patterns, that sort of thing. Stands to reason there'd have to be more than one."

Ponder sighed. "No, Archchancellor," he said patiently. "I mean whole other universes, each one created by some chance variance."

Ridcully frowned. "What's one of them, then?" he asked.

"It just means that, every time there's a chance things could go differently, a separate universe is created in which they do go differently."

"Ah, this is all that 'Trousers of Time' stuff you keep bangin' on about isn't it?" Ridcully demanded.

Ponder grasped at this in relief.

"Yes, Archchancellor," he said. "But, in fact, time isn't simply divided into just two 'legs' - there are, theoretically, an infinite number of these 'legs', each holding a different universe - some very similar to our own, but others wildly different. There might even be round worlds in some of them!"

Ponder waited. Ridcully was clearly working up to something; and given the contents of that last sentence, the Archchancellor could come up with anything.

"So what you're sayin' is, that time has lots o' these legs?" the Archchancellor hazarded, like a man not sure where the current train of reasoning is going but still unable to get off.

"Er, yes," said Ponder, who was feeling much the same way.

"Well, it must be a damn strange looking thing, is all I can say!" Ridcully said, indignantly.

"Well, you see, it's not exactly --" Ponder began, in vain.

"Squid," offered the Dean. "Squid have lots of legs. Could be one of them."

"So what Mr Stibbons is saying is that the structure of the temporal universe is like to that of a giant squid?" Ridcully asked sceptically.

"Uh, well, in a way... yes!" Ponder said, trying to leap to safety on the bandwagon of metaphor. "And each leg is, in fact, a different temporal universe."

"But squid don't wear trousers," the Archchancellor objected.

Ponder sighed. They'd been doing so well...

"No, Archchancellor," he explained patiently. "But in fact, the whole idea of the 'Trousers of Time' is just an analogy. You could think of the Trousers of Time as a vast, multi-dimensional framework in which the different, uh, legs of the... squid of space-time exist."

Ponder held his breath. There was no knowing what this would produce.

"Multi-dimensional, eh?" wondered Ridcully.

"Er, yes."

"Bet you could fit a lot in the pockets, then," said Ridcully, satisfied that he'd grasped the gist of things.

"Quite so," Ponder went on, well aware that once Archchancellor Ridcully got hold of an idea it was best to let him play with it until he got bored and moved on to the next one. "Now, this machine --"

"Room for all them chance variances, I reckon," Ridcully carried on cheerfully.

"Uh, yes," agreed Ponder, who was not about to start a conversation about the pockets on the Trousers of Time. "And so, with the help of HEX, we've built this - uh - experiment to try and prove that these alternative universes exist. You see, this device is capable of generating a distortion in the space-time reference frame --"

"Like a wrinkle in the trousers," supplied the Dean cheerfully.

"Er, yes, thank you Dean; although, it's more like a worn patch --"

"Round the knees, then," the Dean continued helpfully. "They're terrible, knees: always the first place to go."

"Of course; and these - uh - worn patches --"

"Around the knees."

"-- around the knees will, eventually, lead to holes developing in the fabric of space-time, allowing certain small objects to pass through."

Ridcully thought about this. "So, what you're sayin' is..."

"What I'm saying is that things from another universe will be able to cross into our own," said Ponder quickly, before the Archchancellor could get too caught up in the fabric of the space-time trousers.

"What, here?" asked the Dean, looking decidedly nervous.

"Um... To be honest, we're not sure where," Ponder admitted. "These openings will occur at random," he explained hurriedly, catching Ridcully's expression. "We're using HEX to log when and where they appear but I'm afraid there's no way of knowing in advance. Although HEX has calculated that they'll only appear within a limited radius of the apparatus."

"Uh, what kind of things are we talking about here?" asked the Dean, who clearly had something on his mind.

"Oh, only very small, inanimate objects," Ponder assured him. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about in that regard. And now, Archchancellor, if you're ready, I'll, uh, activate the experiment. It will take it a little while to get going."

He pulled a small, ornate lever and beamed at his audience.

"A word, if I may, Mr Stibbons," said Ridcully after a moment.

"Yes, Archchancellor?" said Ponder, innocently.

"How long has that thing been running already?"

Ponder shifted guiltily. "A few minutes?" he said hopefully.

"I distinctly heard it ping, Mr Stibbons," Ridcully accused. "Not to mention the little sparks that kept coming out of it whilst you were entertainin' us with your trouser stories. How long has it really been on?"

Ponder shuffled his feet. "Most of the morning, Archchancellor," he admitted.

Ridcully clapped him heartily on the shoulder. "Good job no inanimate variances have come out of it, then," he said. "Now, let's see about that lunch."


"Carter?"

"Sir?"

"What is that?"

"I have no idea, sir."

"Daniel?"

"I don't know. It looks like some sort of... alteration in space."

"Alteration in space?"

"Well, whatever's on that side is obviously completely different to what's on this side. Possibly it's a doorway of some kind."

"Into where?"

"I have never seen any place like that, O'Neill."

"It, uh, looks a little like Medieval England."

"Uh, sir - do you think we should really be touching it?"

"Well, how else are we gonna find out what it is?"

"We should proceed with caution, O'Neill."

"Ah, come on, T - where's your sense of adventure? Come on, let's go, campers..."


... and that's all for now! Work on the next chapter has started so it shouldn't be too long! If you liked, please review; any suggestions or advice also appreciated. Thanks for reading, luv Gen xx