Chapter 5
He was standing in the great hall of Hyrule Castle. In his hands were the Master Sword and the Hylian Shield which had so defined him for most of his life. On his head was the elongated green cap. He was adorned with the chain-mail and green tunic which had become his uniform. In front of him was a grinning evil face that he was all too familiar with, and he wished he had never laid eyes on.
Imprisoned high above in an energy shield was the princess in an ancient pink and silver dress adorned with the Triforce symbol which had also defined his existence in this life. Her eyes were closed as if she was asleep. He was desperate to deal with the green skinned evil man in front of him and free her from her prison. It was the reason for his being.
Then the grinning evil main disappeared into a shower of black smoke, and Link watched in horror and outrage as the black smoke drifted up towards the imprisoned princess and invaded her body like a parasite befouling her perfect pearl like skin with strange, geometric markings all over her neck, face, and hands. Then her eyes opened, and they weren't "his" Zelda's eyes at all. They were evil, perverse, and taunting. And Link's real nightmare began as the princess leaped from her prison, sword in hand to face him in combat.
He was paralysed. He couldn't do it, could he? Plasma balls erupted from her delicate, feminine hands and were thrown at him like high speed balls from a child's game. He took them on his shield, unwilling to redirect them back to her like he knew he had to. Then Zelda's face changed. Her golden blond hair gained streaks of silver and gray, and laugh lines deepened on her beautiful face. "I'm scared Link! Aren't you going to be there to save me?" She pleaded with him.
"I'm trying, Zelda! I'm trying to find him! It's just going to take a little more time!"He called out as he caught another plasma ball with the edge of his sword, deflecting it off towards the marble relief of the three goddesses surrounding the Triforce behind her. It shattered and burst into flames. "Just hang in there! I will save you! I promise!" He called out to her.
"You will never save her, little hero!" Came a deep, demonic voice from his beloved. "I win this time." And then the laughter began as Link, in tears of frustration caught the next plasma ball with Fi's blade and hurled it back at the demonic eyes which were taunting him. And then Zelda screamed horribly in agony as she erupted into flames.
"Nooooo!" Link screamed, and then his eyes flew open to the soft orange glow of the space station's guest quarters nightlights which ran along the edges where the walls met the floor. He brought his hand to his face, and it was damp and clammy. His whole body and his clothing felt wet with sweat.
"Just another nightmare." He told himself. It wasn't the first. It wasn't even that unusual for him. He had the nightmares frequently. He was blessed with a more than understanding wife when they kept them both up at night. The same wife he was here to try and save.
He sat up in the bed and swung his legs around to place his feet on the floor. He didn't know for how long he had been asleep, but it was going to have to be enough. It was time to get up and get back to work. He needed to find a stargate.
Then a particularly acrid smell reached his nostrils that was so very different from the clean, well kept smell of the room he was in. He sniffed around trying to find the source of it. Then sniffing downwards, he realized it was coming from himself. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. "No one's going to want to get within ten feet of me, let alone help me out." He mumbled.
Trying to clear his head, he called out, "Computer!"
"Ready." Came the womanly voice. He wished it had been Zelda's.
"How do I take a shower in this room?" He asked.
Immediately, a light came on from an open doorway off of the bedroom. "Please feel free to use the bathroom to your left." Came the computer's response.
"Thanks." He said. Then he asked, "Where can I get my clothes cleaned?"
The computer apparently either didn't understand that question, or didn't have a good answer for it, because it was followed by silence. "Fine. I'll figure it out on my own." Came the old man's tired retort followed by a yawn.
The ancient woman was following him, first with her cooly dispassionate eyes, and then as he moved from place to place making inquiries in the station's public information centers he spotted her nearby just within range of a Hylian's ability to overhear what inquiries he was making.
Except for the greenish tinge to her skin which, along with her upswept eyebrows marked her as the race known among these people as "Vulcan", he would have sworn that she was of Hylian origin. Her aged lifespan was apparent from the silvery white color of her short cut hair, and the wrinkled appearance of her skin. In some ways, she reminded him of the ancient Sage of Time, Impa whom he had known through many different lifetimes, though he could tell this woman had been more diminutive than that ancient warrior woman had been in her prime. This elderly woman wore a simple brown and black set of robes with a black brooch, a pyramid with a small red circle at the apex surrounded by a larger three quarter circle, fixed to her right breast.
Without looking directly at her, he could see that she sat in a cushioned chair nearby, her elbows placed comfortably on the low armrests of the chair, and her fingertips together in a steepled position. She didn't appear to be upset or even concerned about him. There was neither amusement, nor disapproval in her face. In fact he could read no emotion whatsoever, only observation and whatever cold calculations might be going on behind those eyes. The only thing of which he was certain was that those calculations involved him.
He had made no progress in his search so far. The station's computer network seemed to hold no references to the astria porta, the stargates, except for some three hundred year old television series called "Wormhole X-treme." That reference seemed to be the closest he could get, and the descriptions of the show seemed to fall into line with the function of a stargate, but as far as the public database was concerned, it was merely a fictional series which ran for ten years and spawned a couple of movies besides. There was no mention of Atlantis, the real Atlantis at any rate, or Earth's previous stargate program. It was as though they had never existed as far as the public history was concerned. Could it really have been possible that John's government never revealed any of it to their people? At any rate, it was a dead end, and he was losing hope as he fingered the binding on the book in his coat pocket. He needed help.
He decided that if the old woman was so interested in him, then perhaps he should have a chat with her. Link left the terminal he was using and moved to the chair the old woman was seated in. She did not move except for her eyes, which continued to follow him. As he came to stand in front of her, he felt awkward, not knowing what a customary, polite greeting might be for one so ancient.
"Peace and long life." The woman said.
"And to you as well." Link responded, thankful she had begun the conversation.
The old woman cocked one eyebrow in surprise. "I have met few in the Federation who did not know the traditional Vulcan response."
"I'm sorry. I'm not from this 'Federation.'" Link responded. "I hope I didn't offend you."
"There is no need to apologize where no offense has been made. Your response was sufficient in its intent, if not its form. The traditional response is, 'Live long, and prosper.'"
"Thank you. I'll remember that." Link said. "My name is Link. Link Faroson."
"I am called T'Pol." The woman responded. She then gestured to a chair opposite her, motioning for Link to sit down next to her.
"Thank you again." He said again. "I saw you watching me as I was using the information terminals, I thought I'd come over and find out why I was so interesting."
"The inquiries you were making interested me. But perhaps we should discuss this further in a more discreet location. There are few others who know the things of which we speak, but those who do have ears everywhere and a very long reach. Doubtless they are now aware there is someone on the station who is looking into the term 'stargate'. It would be much to your advantage if we could speak more privately."
"My rooms on the station?" Link offered.
"No," T'Pol countered. "What ship did you arrive on?"
"It is a small shuttle. It is parked in one of the shuttle bays. The lock's set so only I can open it." Link responded.
"That should be adequate," Her aging voice replied. "Let us be going, then, you and I as discreetly as possible."
"I have not heard the term 'stargate' in a very long time, over a hundred Earth years in point of fact, but I still remember to what it refers." T'Pol said as they both sat in the forward pilot's seats of the small gateship. Link darkened the forward viewport so no one could see them from the outside. "My question would be why you are seeking information on it. What meaning does that word have to you?" T'pol asked.
Link debated how much to tell the woman. How much of his story would she believe? He needed as much information as he could get. If John's government hadn't told its people anything about the stargate or Atlantis, then it was certain none of them would know anything about him beyond the video game that was played three hundred years before this point in their timeline. But she recognized the word, and acted as though she knew what it was. He could tell the truth, but how much of it?
"I need it to communicate with someone; someone I knew a long time ago. I need his help." Link told her. "My wife needs his help."
The old woman thought for a minute, and then said, "To my knowledge, the stargate has not been used by anyone except for a very few people on this planet for almost three hundred years, and their control over its use is absolute. It is illogical that you, obviously neither from Earth nor apparently from any known world within or without the Federation, should know about it much less require its use. The only reason why anyone would need to use such a device to contact someone is if the person you wish to contact is much farther away than subspace communications can reach. There is more to your inquiry than you are telling me."
"And you obviously know more than you are telling me." Link countered. "I must find him. My wife's future depends on it." He told her, choosing his words carefully.
"Indeed." T'pol responded, pensively. "Perhaps I could be of more assistance if I knew the name of the person you wish to contact. As you pointed out, I obviously know more about this than I am telling you."
Ornery old woman, Link thought to himself his face betraying a cockeyed smile. He liked ornery. At this point, he had little left to lose and everything to gain. "His name is, or was, Daniel Jackson."
T'Pol folded her hands, her face betrayed some disturbance at this name. "You know this name, don't you?" Link asked.
"I do." She said carefully. "It is another name I have not heard in a very long time. But if what I know of him still holds true, if he wished to be found by you, he would have already made himself known. I don't see how accessing the stargate would help." T'Pol answered. "I also don't understand why you would have thought the journey to Earth would be necessary in order to contact him."
"So he has ascended then? You know this for a fact?" Link asked, ignoring her latter observation.
"If I understand what you mean correctly, then yes." She let her last question go unanswered for the moment. "My shipmates and I encountered him over a hundred and thirty years ago when I was the science officer on what was thought to be Earth's first true deep space exploration ship, the NX-01 Enterprise. It sits as a museum now in California on the planet below us. He became a 'stowaway' on our ship as we were conducting experimental hyperspace trials using schematics from a secret program run by one of Earth's nation states before their third world war. There was an accident and we were..." She paused, trying to decide how much to reveal, "thrown off course. Suffice it to say he was instrumental in assisting our return home. I never had the chance to encounter him again, but, working with a covert division of Starfleet intelligence several years later, I learned a great deal about his life prior to his 'ascension' as you call it, and his association with the stargate."
"You know where Earth's stargate is now, don't you?" Link asked her.
"I do." She responded. And I know the people who control it." She said. "They wouldn't let you get close to it, even if it could help you. They won't even reveal its existence to the rest of Starfleet or the Federation. They haven't for over a hundred years. It's proven too useful to their operations for outside interference."
"This Starfleet, what is it?" Link asked.
T'pol looked at him curiously, then said, "Starfleet has become the Federation's military arm. Ostensibly they explore the galaxy, but they also patrol as peacekeepers, and fight wars when the necessity arises. This station is a Starfleet facility."
"And these folks that have the stargate, they're also Starfleet?" He continued, trying to understand.
"In name." T'Pol responded. "Most of Starfleet and the Federation don't know they exist. They have no official name, but those who do know of them refer to them as 'Section Thirty-One,' named for the particular part of Starfleet's charter which supposedly sanctions their existence. If the rest of the Federation knew of their existence, there would be an outcry across the quadrant."
"Why?" Link asked.
"Because they routinely violate the Articles of the Federation. Supposedly they do so in order to keep the Federation intact and safe from all threats, at least this is what they tell themselves." T'Pol answered, her eyes taking on a haunted quality. "They call it pragmatism."
"It sounds like you know a lot about them; a lot more than they like for people to know." Link observed.
"I was recruited by them a long time ago after my tour on Enterprise. It was my mistake; one of many." T'Pol replied.
"You're talking pretty freely about all of this for being an intelligence operative." Link told her.
"I'm old," she said, "even for a Vulcan. There isn't much they can do to me now. As I said, my association with them was a mistake. One I will never be able to fully correct." She paused for a minute, and then asked, "You said your wife's future depended on finding this person. Perhaps you could shed more light on this for me?"
"It's complicated." Link responded evasively.
"There are few things in life which are not. Perhaps you could simplify it for me." She replied, refusing to be deterred.
"She's ill. The doctors in our world can't cure her and she's dying." Link told her.
"And you are hoping Daniel Jackson can cure her?" T'Pol asked, trying to follow him.
"No. Even if he did, we would still run up against this again sooner rather than later. We both need his help to ascend again." Link said. "We've been prevented by the Others in our world as part of a punishment for interfering too much. We've kept our end of it and stayed out of the affairs of the rest of our world for forty five years, but we have heard nothing from the Others, and our memories of how to ascend have been taken from us. If either of us die now, we'll be lost forever. This is why I need Daniel's help."
Bang. Bang. Bang. Link turned his head as far as it would go towards the source of the sudden noise. The sound came from the rear door of the gateship. "Starfleet security! Open up for inspection!" Came the voices of very official sounding men.
"Just a minute!" Link called back. Turning to T'Pol he asked more quietly, "Do they normally do inspections like this?"
"No." T'Pol answered.
"Right." Link responded. "Care to go for a ride?" He asked the old woman.
"It does not appear either of us has a choice." She responded.
Link put his hand on the control interface and willed the gateship to come to life. An official female voice came through his comm saying, "Shuttle Vaganda, power down your engines and submit to inspection."
T'Pol looked at him intently and told him gravely, "Not what I would recommend."
Link lifted the gateship up off of its parking space and launched it towards the open bay doors, protected only by a force shield meant to keep the vacuum of space at bay, but not to prevent larger objects from moving in and out.
"Shuttle Vaganda," the voice warned again, "stand down or prepare to be tractored."
"Not on your life." Link said. He then willed the gateship to cloak, and it disappeared from sight as he altered its course back to the planet from which it came.
"Cloaking device?" T'Pol asked.
"Like I said. It's complicated." He replied. "Is there somewhere I can drop you off on the surface?"
"My apartment in San Francisco would not be safe for either of us right now." She said. "I own a house in a small town in a region called Pennsylvania on this continent. I can give you the coordinates. You can land just outside of town." T'Pol said.
"I thought you were from Vulcan." Link said.
"I haven't resided on my homeworld for over a century for personal as well as professional reasons. There was no logic to my return." She replied, and then said no more about it as Link hit the atmosphere and veered towards the coordinates she gave him. "There is much of your story you have not shared with me. Perhaps I could be of more use to you if I knew it." She said.
Well, at this point what could it hurt? He asked himself. So, he went into more detail telling her about where he was from, who and what he was, how he came into contact with John Shepherd and the people of Stargate Command on Atlantis, as much as he could say from the time it took for them to travel from the high atmosphere to the outskirts of Carbon Creek, Pennsylvania where he landed quietly and cloaked in a clearing in the nearby woods.
"That is quite the story you tell." She told him as the gateship touched down. "At one point in time I would have denied the plausibility of it, but I have since learned to keep a much more open mind. Still, if what you say is true, there is no logic to your quest." She rose from her seat to leave the small vessel.
"What do you mean?" Link said with confusion. "If I don't find him, my wife will cease to be."
"As do the rest of us eventually." She turned to answer him. "We must learn to accept that fact, even if you have previously possessed the luxury of not."
"It has never truly been a luxury." Link said. "It has been more of a curse."
"Then there is no logic to your desire to ascend again. As long as you continue to ascend and hold an attachment to the mortal affairs of your world, the cycle you spoke of will not end. Logic dictates that it will only end when you cease your attachments altogether. In your wife's case, it is her attachment to the affairs of your world. In your case, it is your attachment to your wife." She said.
Her words were coolly detached and to the heart of the matter. It was a truth Link hadn't considered, and honestly hadn't wanted to consider.
"If what you have said is true," she continued, "then the Others in your reality may not have chosen to contact you until it is time for their judgment to be rendered, and that will not happen until the point of death if my understanding is correct. Neither you nor your wife have yet died, therefore they are still waiting and watching. Perhaps this is why Daniel Jackson, who would know everything about you as soon as you appeared in our world, has kept silent as well."
After a few minutes of silence she said, "The stargate is in an underground facility in Colorado called Cheyenne Mountain near the old city of Colorado Springs." She gave him another set of coordinates. "The facility is deep underground and most of the original access points from the surface were destroyed in the third world war. Section thirty-one personnel access it by means of transporter pads. You will have to find another way inside."
"You said most of them?" Link asked.
"There is still a small access tunnel that reaches from the surface down into what used to be a United States Air Force facility known as Stargate Command. It was used for emergency purposes and ventilation. The last time I was there, it was still intact and passable. The facility's personnel often overlook it, and will require a rope to rappel down part of it." She told him without explaining any further as to how she knew that.. T'Pol then raised her hand in a salute which Link didn't recognize. "In any event, I wish you good luck. Peace and long life, Link Faroson."
Link raised his hand in an attempt at the same gesture, "Live long and prosper, T'Pol. And thank you for your wise counsel."
She nodded her head in response. "I will remain in Carbon Creek for some time. You may return here if you need further assistance. Section Thirty One is a formidable opponent to say the least, even to someone with your professed skills."
"Thank you again." He said.
Then she went to the rear of the ship and opened the door. The bright sunlight of morning filtered through the trees into the gateship's opening. She exited into the woods and headed eastward into town. Link watched her through the forward viewport until she was out of sight.
He fingered the linking book in his pocket again, and asked himself, "Am I really wrong in taking this course of action? Have been doing this for so long that it's the only course of action I know how to take any more?"
He put his hands on the control panel pensively. "So, do I go and take on a mountain full of bad guys in the hopes that Daniel will somehow find me and agree to help? Or do I go home and be with my wife and hope her mother is in a good mood when Zelda finally dies?"
He didn't know the answer any more as he stared pensively out the viewport.