Chapter 3

This trip through the gate seemed longer then his previous experiences few though they had been. They had made six practice runs to and from the Alpha site in the final ten days before the real thing. He stepped into a dark space lit only by the beams of light from the torches on the military's p-90's and his own headlamp. Dispersion plan 4 called for him to step forward five paces and turn the pallet to the left. He was pallet two. Pallet one had gone to the right. Behind him pallet three would go eight paces and also go right. Efficiency and speed were crucial in order to get as much as possible through the gate. The plan counted on twenty minutes of transit time. Anything after that was gravy. The expedition members would all be through and the pushers on the other side would just keep passing stuff along until the wormhole shut down.

Harry was happy that it was Plan 4. Plan 4 was fairly straightforward. Not like plan 5, which was in the case of a wet world with its gate on a small island surrounded by water. The pallets were equipped with some sort of air bag flotation devices that when triggered would allow them to be pushed right into the water in order to get them away from the gate. A water world would have caused a delay in embarking while it was determined if there was land close by and enough of it to support them.

No, not a water world or a jungle or a mountaintop. They were in a large room. Harry could feel it. In fact he could feel it through his feet of all places because he certainly couldn't see much. Once he had stopped moving he looked down and it seemed as if the floor was glowing a little around him. He took an experimental step and saw it light up around his toes as he set his foot down.

He felt air start to move across the back of his neck. He turned his head into the faint breeze. First he smelled staleness. Old. Dead. Shuttered. Then a hint of something. Maybe salt. Like at the seashore. Ozone after a storm. Then nothing. Just fresh air. Warm. Clean. Pure. As he turned to catch more of the airflow he saw that the wall had started to brighten behind him, but then he heard Curtis' whisper of "Oh Shit" and he turned back.

Someone was rising up something across the room from them and as the shadowy figure rose up the room got brighter and he could see that it was climbing a staircase. Soon Harry could make out that it was Major Sheppard and as he climbed each step it lit up beneath his feet. On the face of each step was what looked like symbols from the Ancient's writing system.

Harry started across the room towards the staircase dodging around incoming people and equipment. Behind him he heard Curtis' "Sir?" and her footsteps as she followed him.

Then he heard someone yell, "Who's doing that? Who is turning stuff on?" It sounded like Colonel Sumner.

He heard another voice say, "Sheppard what are you..." interrupted by Major Sheppard's reply of, "I haven't touched anything. I'm just walking on the floor and up the stairs."

Harry knew. He sensed it via the feeling that was rising up through his feet and beginning to resonate in his bones. It was Major Sheppard turning things on. The building was waking up for Major Sheppard. And for Harry.

Then his attention was grabbed once again by the steps. His translation mindset clicked on and he was off into a world he had discovered that summer 11 years ago when he received a postcard written in funny little picture symbols. That world had become his way of escaping the build up to and the aftermath of the war. It had held him together when people he knew and loved changed and fell apart and the world he had lived in for less then half of his life dissolved around him and then drove him away.

The symbols on the step risers weren't like the system he had been studying. They were more stylized, flowing and curvaceous yet still geometric at the same time. There were patterns and repeats within lines and between steps. Sort of like a poem. No. Not a poem. A song. Yes, music, said the feeling in his bones. A Song of Welcome. He could almost hear the music resonate within him, very faint and far away.

He was just beginning to pick out a word here and there when Curtis took his arm. "Sir? Dr. Weir would like you at the top up there. Didn't you hear her on the radio? Sir?"

No Harry had only heard the music but he was back now and climbed up the stairs.

At the top Dr. McKay was talking about power consumption while examining the consoles. Dr. Weir asked Harry about the writing on the staircase. She had seen him studying it as it got brighter and brighter in the room. Dr. Weir missed very little of what was going on around her. As Harry told her his thoughts, suddenly there were images appearing all around them in mid air. They seemed to be like computer monitors with information flowing across them, dancing in patterns and arrangements like ripples of water or flowing silk.

This was in a script Harry could make out. It was information, status of systems. Numbers and percentages were low and looked less then ideal. He called Dr. McKay's attention to one window that seemed to be about power and its flow.

As Dr. McKay shoved past him he stepped away and looked out into the room. They were up on a balcony overlooking the stargate. The flow through continued smoothly. He checked the timer on his wrist. Almost everyone wore one and they had activated when the wormhole opened. They were at 19 minutes. By then the room was bright enough that he could see that the next pallet through was spray painted bright red. That meant that all the expedition personal were through along with the basic supplies. Everything after this was icing on the cake. There were enhancements and extras and back-ups and maybe some luxury items at the end of the line if there was time. There was even a pallet or two of trade items that might prove useful.

He watched the carefully choreographed dance of the double line of "pullers" on either side of the gate as they grabbed the controls of each pyramid shaped stack as it came through and rushed it away from the event horizon. They were starting to invert pallets across the room. Fitting them in like 3D jigsaw puzzle pieces atop the pallets already there. They were keeping the floor space as open as possible and leaving room for each additional stack as it came through. He could see the movements and could feel the music of the welcome song and it seemed as if the soldiers moved to the beat. Or perhaps the music moved to their rhythms. Maybe a bit of both, he mused.

Harry felt more alive at that moment then he had for years. He felt himself lit up, that he was glowing, giving off light and an electrical charge and music. Yes there was even music. He felt as if his hair was standing on end.

He turned when he heard a voice with the familiar cadence of southern England. Someone from home. His old home. It was Peter Grodin. A console had lit up under his hands. Or perhaps Sheppard's as he was standing nearby. Harry stepped closer in order to see the window that had just appeared. Grodin must have seen the movement and looked up.

Grodin's eyes locked on his forehead for a moment. Maybe my hair really is standing up he thought. And then his eyes met Harry's as they widened in shock and he blurted out in what to Harry sounded like a shout, "Harry Potter!"