Wormholes and Loopholes

By: Gyte-san

Chapter One: Did this thing come with an instruction manual? It did? Then why didn't we read it? Oh, that's why. How was I supposed to know it was in an untranslatable language?

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He had lost her.

He didn't even get a chance to tell her….

A single tear fell down his cheek as he realized this.

No, this is wrong. He is the smartest man in the universe. Change that, not the smartest man, the smartest Time Lord in the universe (not that he had any more competition in that field). He is the most feared being in the universe. So why couldn't he even hold on to the woman he….

Something isn't right. His projection wasn't meant to hold very long, but he was supposed to have at least a few more minutes. The calculations raced through his mind. This is wrong. The energy from that dying sun should have given him at least three more minutes. What could…. It doesn't matter; he will get those three minutes back somehow. He will finish that sentence or die trying. Hit this button, flip all of those switches to the right, not that one, that one… What the Hell does that switch do? Okay, break that switch off and throw it away. Hit that part of the consol with a mallet. Hit it again. Once more. Okay, I don't think that is supposed to be on fire.

He didn't know what he was doing now. Hell, half of the time he didn't know what he was doing. He was pretty much shooting from the hip when it came to the Tardis. Mainly he would push a few buttons and hope that she knew what he wanted to do. He got by well enough with just that. Some mistakes were made (like mistaking 12 hours for 12 months in the unfortunate incident that happened when he returned Rose back home), but it got at least close to what he was shooting for. It was rare that he lost total control of the Tardis. Sometimes it was her own decision to send him off course, but she usually had a very good reason for it, and he trusted her judgment. After all they had been through, why wasn't she responding to him now?

What is that noise? Why does it feel like the Tardis is moving? Well, there is a very simple explanation for that:

The Tardis was moving.

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Lunch at the SGC is always an interesting time. If anyone eavesdropped on the conversations, they would probably end up with several new ideas for bad sci-fi dramas. But, like all lunchrooms, a certain hierarchy was present. The tech crews, janitors, cooks, and everyone else dedicated to running the day to day life of the base filled the bottom ranks. Though they are necessary for the base to operate smoothly, they rarely get the chance to risk their lives for the good of all mankind. The majority of the SG teams filled the next rank, enjoying their slight superiority over the lower ranks. They in themselves had a smaller, but infinitely more complex, system among their own ranks. They took into account several factors including: Years of service, Time spent off world, Number of new races discovered by said team, Number of close calls, How many times they had come face to face with a Goa'uld and survived, and (perhaps the most important) how many bad guys knew their names. They would duke out their importance in the lunchroom, each comparing their stories and merits to the other SGC employees. Above most all SG personnel were visitors. Visitors usually ranged from visiting diplomats, politicians, and military personnel, but the occasional Tokra, Jaffa rebel, or Asgard would sometimes take the time to indulge in a traditional Earth lunch. But not even these high named guests could compare to the power that a certain group of people held among the others.

SG-1. Their names had become all but legend. Their exploits topped all others, and every system lord both knew and cursed their names. Whenever someone or something threatened the Earth (or any other planet for that matter), they always had some one-in-a-million plan that always seemed to work, no matter how improbable it seemed.

The handsome, intelligent linguist, Daniel Jackson. No matter what the culture, no matter what the language, he would find a way to communicate with the locals. All artifacts found on other worlds were shown to him, and he almost instinctively knew which Earth cultures influenced, or were influenced by, those who crafted the object. Ancient puzzles unraveled under his scrutiny.

Beautiful, brilliant Carter. How many off-worlders have tried to make her theirs? Ready with both a gun and a plan, she has escaped from situations that would make most other women give up hope. She could understand the science behind technology millennia ahead of Earth's own. When science failed her, her teammates could count on her to be there as a soldier. She rides motorcycles, knows astrophysics, is an excellent shot, and looks awesome in both oil stained jeans and ancient ceremonial dresses.

Teal'c. Strong, sturdy, calm and always ready for a fight. All questions concerning his loyalty have long since vanished from the halls of the SGC. Any who raised a hint of doubt in his integrity were beaten down by his massive number of supporters and fans. The silent and strong type, his lack of understanding Earth's culture brings comic relief to tense moments. He could break you in half as if you were nothing. Did we mention he is good with kids?

Jack O'Neill. Must we say more? We do? Really? The infamous O'Neill. Hated by Goa'uld, loved by the Asguard, and on very good terms with the president. No one is quite sure how he does it, but he manages to get out of trouble every time. He is also not hard on the eyes. Most of the female personnel and a good portion of the male personnel wouldn't mind having his child or at least a nice one night stand.



No one took the hierarchy too seriously, but most would differ to the wisdom of those higher up on the chain. It was also a very high honor for any member of SG-1 to know your name. Those allowed within their inner circle tended to live longer and see cooler stuff.

SG-1 never really thought about their legendary status. Right now they were more interested in their blue Jell-O dessert.

"Carter, what flavor is blue Jell-O?"

"Not sure, sir."

"My guess is blue raspberry."

"Are not the raspberries of this world red, Daniel Jackson?"

While this conversation was truly riveting for those involved, most would consider their topic boring and mundane. When you have been to the end of the universe and back, one would imagine your topics of discussion would be a tad more stimulating. That was SG-1 for you.

"They are red."

"Unscheduled offworld activation."

"And so are the wonderful flashing lights."

The emergency lights could put O'Neill in a bad mood in no time flat. Whenever they went off something bad was going to happen. He reluctantly put down his bowl of Jell-O and rushed off along with his teammates to find out what the current tragedy the SGC is facing today.

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The Doctor went through all the controls. None of them showed any sign that he had accidentally set the Tardis off. Also, none of the controls and monitor screens could show him any sign of where he was going. They didn't even seem to be going through the time vortex at all.

The screen closest to him flashed, "Warning: Interdimensional travel occurring. No longer able to draw power from the time vortex. Systems shutting down."

For the Tardis to give such a bad sci-fi cliché warning like that, it had to be bad. Something was pulling them into a transdimensional wormhole. It must have drawn the energy from the dying sun to finish the connection. Who would be stupid enough to mess with the fabric of multiple realities? This couldn't be the work of the Time Lords; his Tardis wouldn't be dying if they had a hand in this. With no way to control the Tardis, all he could do was hang on and pray that he didn't die… again.



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