Milky Way – Earth – Atlantis

STARGATE OPERATIONS BALCONY

It was difficult to say which was louder: the sound of the balcony door sweeping open, or the disgruntled sigh of a Lieutenant General who could never seem to catch a break. Not even ten minutes, Jack thought. Looking to his watch, however, proved an even greater disappointment.

Sam hesitated in the doorway. "Sorry, am I interrupting something, sir?"

Jack lifted his head. "Of course not," he said, turning back to her. "If you were here with more paperwork, however…"

Though not in the least bit surprised, Sam smiled – his desk a testament to that fact. "Bad day?"

Having worn its way deep into his features, Jack's exhaustion seemed enough to answer her question. "Oh, you don't know the half of it." But then, his expression lightened. "So, how fares the Hammond?"

"The generator upgrades are proceeding as planned, but it will be another week before she will be able to return to active service."

Good, he thought, nodding. "Well, the sooner the better. With the Hammond temporarily out of commission and the Sun Tzu still under repair, we're spread pretty thin with only the Odyssey and Daedalus." Carter made to reply, but Jack quickly continued, "At least until Thursday when the Daedalus heads off for that Ancient ship to drop off some more supplies and personnel."

Carter nodded – the words pretty much taken from her own mouth. "And there's also the Victory to take into consideration. It's first test flight is a couple of days from now."

"Tomorrow, actually," Jack said.

"Really? But I thought –"

"The IOA are having it rushed into service. Had to reallocate some of Landry's budget to get it done, but even I can't help but agree that it was the right call," he said as he looked out to where San Francisco had long since become but a blur on the horizon; a mesh of green and blue and white where it clashed with the sea below and the sky above. Then, he drew in a deep breath. "Sure as hell beats the Pentagon, doesn't it?" he said, looking to put work behind him so that he could enjoy the last few minutes of his lunch.

"I think I made more decisions out here than I ever did in that office," Sam agreed.

Lowering his gaze back down over the city, Jack sighed. "I wish I had that luxury."

Sam smiled, a knowing expression on her face as she looked across to him. "Well, if it means anything, sir, there's no one I'd rather have in charge."

Jack smiled in silent appreciation of her words, relaxing further in the comfort of her presence; knowing that he could always count on her to dispel his own doubts. But in that thoughtful quiet that followed, her words began to weigh upon him a little more, until a single thought occupied his mind.

"Oh, I can think of one."

Sam's brow wrinkled in thought.

It was only when she met his gaze, however, that his true meaning became clear.

She closed her eyes and nodded, reflecting upon his words as they looked down upon the city together.

STARGATE OPERATIONS

The emptiness of the Gate Room was a hard thing to ignore, Banks found, her train of thought derailed once more. In her mind's eye, she could still see it. After three years it was difficult to put aside from memory.

"Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You know how paranoid the IOA are," Chuck said, managing a brief glance up at her from where he lay, flat on his back beneath the D.H.D. control console.

Banks nodded with his reply, knowing the truth of it, but it still did little to ease her thoughts. "I know," she said, "but it just doesn't feel right."

"Better wrong than having it blow up in our faces again," Chuck said. "Besides, it's not like we're going to be here to notice it anyway. In a few days we'll be twiddling our thumbs on the Daedalus on our way to our new posting aboard a derelict Ancient warship that's currently adrift in the void of intergalactic space."

Banks then turned back, the thought detaching her from looking down upon the Gate Room below. "Oh, boy," she said, matching that of his own dry enthusiasm.

"And to think, my family thinks I'm studying abroad."

"Still?"

Chuck grinned. "Surprisingly enough, yeah," he said, reaching across for his tablet computer. "Not sure how long it's gunna hold up for though. These same old excuses are starting to wear a bit thin."

"Same here," Banks said. "Being stuck in another galaxy does tend to strain relations a bit. I mean, look at Marzano. She was part of the original expedition and she came back to divorce papers."

"Marzano?"

"Yeah. She worked in the infirmary. Her cover was 'Doctors Without Borders', but her husband just got fed up with not hearing from her for so long. He made claims of abandonment and took their kids and their house, leaving her with nothing."

Chuck paused in thought at that.

"Hard to believe, I know," Banks said, recalling the sorrow of Marzano's loss, "but it does add a certain perspective to joining… one which even I overlooked."

Chuck nodded. "Same here. They pretty much had me at aliens, spaceships, and intergalactic travel. Don't think I've been so quick to sign up for anything in all my life."

Banks smiled.

"Still, it's one hell of a commitment, that's for sure," Chuck continued, turning back to his work as he reached up toward the next panel. "Being deployed to another galaxy to combat an alien race that can suck the life out of you with their hands wasn't exactly what I had imagined for a first posting." He took a breath, groaning against the strain that had slowly been working its way up his back.

"Are you alright down there?"

Chuck groaned again. "Lie down here for an hour and ask me that again."

"Wanna switch?"

With a slight click, the panel came away in Chuck's hands. "Nah. No point. Just got this last node to bypass and…" Putting aside the panel, he reached up and quite simply pulled out one of the control crystals. "… done."

And in that following moment, as Chuck slumped against the floor with a weary sigh, the D.H.D. control console powered down – for what may be its last and final time.

Looking to the tablet in her hands Banks nodded. "That's it. It's isolated."

"Ah, thank god!"

"Amen to that," Banks agreed as she placed her tablet down on the console above him. "Here." She offered her hand, which Chuck graciously accepted as he shuffled out and, with a strength which surprised even him, Banks hauled him up to his feet.

Dropping into a chair, Chuck said, "Thanks. Another hour down there and I might've needed a medic."

The balcony door slid open and Jack's face twitched with impatience as he and Sam walked back inside; his hands balling into fists at his sides. He shook his head and pressed a finger to his ear, silencing Carl Strom mid-sentence. "I'm entitled to a break, Strom. If you don't like it, I'd be more than happy to refer you to human resources."

Sam smiled at the remark, taking as much pleasure in Jack's defiance as he did. And although she could only make out a few words here and there over his radio as they spoke outside on the balcony, it was pretty clear that his reply had been met by silence – or at least for a few stunned moments.

Jack then sighed, seemingly being drowned in the resumption of Strom's bureaucratic rhetoric as they passed through into Stargate Operations.

"Colonel Carter?" Banks said, stepping away from the console.

Sam smiled warmly in reply, detaching herself from Jack, who continued on through into his office, whispering curses under his breath as he went. "Yes."

"We're finished."

"That's ahead of schedule."

Her answer came with honest surprise, with McKay's estimate having fallen far short of the mark.

"Well, there aren't many who know the city's systems like we do, Colonel," Chuck said, "but we aim to please, nonetheless."

"That you do."

"So, what's next, Colonel?" Banks asked.

Sam thought on that a moment. "Well, you weren't due to ship out for another three days, so…"

She let that linger in the air, watching the hopeful expressions on their faces.

OFFICE OF JONATHAN J. O'NEILL

Having had enough, Jack took out his earpiece and tossed it into his top desk drawer, letting Strom's last few words fall on deaf ears as he dropped into his chair. "God, that man is a piece of work."

"What did he want this time?"

Jack looked up as Sam entered his office. "For me to get back to my desk, apparently," he said, shaking his head. "I mean… you know, for someone who's been dragged out of bed at four in the morning, you'd think he'd cut me some slack."

"Four?"

"Yep," Jack said with absent enthusiasm. "Just more problems with the Jaffa?"

More? "What was it for this time?"

"Oh, some of their ships went missing," he said with the same unenthused tone. "Waste of damned time if you ask me. But that's what you get with the IOA negotiating our treaty obligations."

Sam sat down across from him, managing a dry smile – all too familiar with the politics that accompanied their work. She then lowered her gaze, finding it hard not to glance down at the desk between them. A disordered and disorganised mass of papers and files littered its surface, and her eyebrows rose in surprise at the depth to it all. "Boy, you sure weren't kidding about the paperwork."

"Intelligence reports, mostly." Jack yawned, sinking further into his chair. "There's a financial assessment report in there somewhere, which is what Strom has been pestering me for all morning."

"Well, if the IOA have one redeeming quality, it's their persistence."

"And their pessimism, rigidity…" Jack's phone rang. With a disgruntled sigh, he closed his eyes. "That man does not know when to quit."

"He must need that file pretty bad," Sam said.

"Then I'll strap the damned thing to a drone and fire it up his…. Oh –" Jack then saw the caller I.D. "– it's Daniel." Reaching across his desk, he put the phone on speaker. "Daniel. Glad tidings, I hope?"

"Bad day?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Jack said, glancing across at Sam.

There was a slight pause.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yeah…" Daniel said warily. "You see…"

Milky Way – Earth – Atlantis, Eastern Pier

TRANSPORTER OUTSIDE JANUS' LAB

"Well, it was some mighty fine shooting, I can tell ya," Jack said as the transporter doors opened. "And I can honestly say that I can't see anyone breaking that record for a while."

Sam's face flushed with a smile. "Well, I can't take all the –"

Her last words came out in a sudden and forced breath as Jack's arm shot out across her, pushing her back into the transporter. Sam's breath whistled through gritted teeth from the pain of the impact, but no sooner had he done so than a large shipping crate went past; narrowly missing them both had it not been for Jack's quick reflexes.

Sam coughed, holding her stomach. "Thanks."

"Sorry," Jack said. "Better that than a pancake, though."

"Well…" Sam coughed again, a faint smile on her lips. "… had you hit me any harder, I'm sure they would have come back up too."

Jack paused at the door, hesitating in his step before stepping out of the transporter, and he looked on as the crate was hauled on up the corridor; a destination tag clear to see on its rear – 'DR. JACKSON'S LAB/ JANUS' LAB – ATLANTIS'.

But then he paused again… and sniffed the air. "That smell."

"What smell?"

"Exactly," he said, sniffing the air once more. "The last time I was down here it smelled worse than my pond."

Sam took to sniffing the air for herself; a clean, fresh scent filling her nose. "Hey, you're right," she said, turning his own puzzled frown back upon him. "It's gone."

Jack nodded. "Not exactly something your everyday air freshener can cover up."

Sam nodded in return; then shifter her gaze to the wall beside her. "It's been cleaned. Look." She stepped closer, brushing her fingers over its surface, where not a single trace of the discoloured waterline remained to be seen, anywhere. "The waterline's gone."

"But… but he only just moved in on Tuesday," Jack said, incredulous.

"Would you want to put up with that smell every day?"

"Hey, I'm just saying, it took three days before an engineer came to fix my toilet last week. Three days! Do you know what it's like having to take a transporter every time you've gotta go?"

Sam's face split into a wide smile, unable to suppress the laughter that followed.

"Oh, ha-ha," Jack said, regarding her with a disapproving, but otherwise impersonal frown. "Just wait until you have to find empty quarters in the middle of the night – and in this city of all places. And my bladder aint exactly what it used to be, you know."

"Well, in all fairness, Colonel Orenski has done an exceptional job restructuring city operations since Atlantis' return," Sam said, "and especially given the damage it sustained during the battle with the Super-Hive. I'm sure she spared an engineer as soon as she could."

Jack pursed his lips in thought, but then he nodded, deciding to let the matter pass. There was still much to be done before even he could call it a day – insofar as his work was concerned – and Janus' Lab still beckoned. Or to be precise, a potential catastrophe beckoned. "Well, we best not keep him waiting."

Sam nodded her agreement and walked with him, watching as the shipping crate disappeared down another corridor. And it was there where they both came to a halt, staring off down the corridor with almost equal surprise.

Jack took a deep sigh of a breath, brushing a hand through his hair. "What in the world…"

They both had to blink – several times – to believe what they were seeing before it became an undeniable fact. For, stacked almost from floor to ceiling and seemingly from wall to wall were dozens upon dozens of crates and boxes, all of which bore the same destination tag as the one being manoeuvred into position before them by an Airman.

"A few things." Jack shook his head. "That's what he said to me. Just a few things, Jack. No big deal."

"And here we have what amounts to his entire office," Sam said.

"And then some," Jack added.

As they looked on, the Airman settled the crate down and withdrew his pump truck; turning back to find he had an audience. "Oh!" he said, fumbling to salute and bring the pump truck to a halt. "Sorry, General. Colonel."

"As you –" Jack paused as he moved to step aside. "Erm, Miller," he said, noting the name on his uniform, "please tell me this is all of it?"

"Yes, it is, sir."

Jack rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, his mouth open, incredulous once more – wondering on what else had been going on that he did not know about. But he nodded, nonetheless. "As you were."

Miller relaxed at ease and moved on as Jack stepped back out of his path, and it wasn't until he had disappeared down the corridor at their backs that he finally took a breath. Though, in reflection, his words were only a partial truth. That was the last of the deliveries – for today.

"… seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five…" Jack shook his head, again. "Is he shipping over his office or a damned warehouse?"

Following on at his back, Sam couldn't help but agree – her own count significantly higher. But it was not the count which had piqued her interest. For each crate and box had a code; with the last four characters acting as a shipping reference. Most had been shipped from Stargate Command, whereas the others, a few dozen at most, were from Area 51.

"AC39?" Sam whispered under her breath, examining one of the more structurally reinforced crates. AC? Her brow furrowed at that thought. Potentially hazardous materials?

Jack turned back toward her. "Carter?"

"AC," Sam said. "It's a storage reference I.D. from Area 51… for potentially hazardous materials."

"Oh, hazardous materials, you say?" came Jack's sarcastic riposte. "Well, I'm comforted."

Sam smiled. "Well, I can't say for sure, but it's possible that these may just be what was catalogued from the lab when we first discovered it."

"That's not exactly filling me with confidence either, you know."

A kick confirmed that the door was, in fact, real – but words simply failed Jack.

"…"

Sam noted a slight twitch of pain come over him from the kick – his standard military boots having been given over for a pair of smart and shiny ones to match the dress uniform he wore.

"A door?"

"Looks like."

And then, said door opened.

"I figured that was you."

Jack's eyes narrowed, fixing Daniel with an otherwise impassive expression as the moment dragged on. But then, he drew in a breath and turned to Sam, "You know," he began with a slight dramatic flair to his tone, "though my memory may not be what it used to be, I could have sworn there used to be a wall around here somewhere."

Daniel blinked. "What?"

JANUS' LAB

"Well, the IOA insisted on the door," Daniel said. "Not a lot of them were willing to risk their lives on McKay's tone generator."

"And I don't blame 'em," Jack said. "Hell, after Carter explained it to me, I was afraid to walk through the thing."

"He took some encouragement…" A smile grew on Sam's lips. "… and a push."

Daniel laughed lightly at the memory.

"Well, forgive me for not wanting to end up a wall decoration," Jack said with polite sarcasm; a Han Solo-esque image coming to his mind. "And just how in the hell did you manage to get all of this done so fast? You only moved in on Tuesday."

"Colonel –"

"Orenski, yes, I know. But how? If I need anything doing, I get put on a waiting list – and I'm meant to be the Head of Homeworld Command, for cryin' out loud."

"And so was I."

Jack drew back, resisting the urge to laugh. "Oh, really? Because that door and those crates out there would beg to differ."

"It was a four-week waiting list, it that makes you feel any better." Daniel sensed an all too familiar tension behind his words. He was having a bad day after all, he reflected. "And it was another week before that door was even installed for that matter," he added. "I didn't actually move in physically until Tuesday."

Jack pursed his lips.

"What about the wall?" Sam asked.

"Area 51," Daniel replied. "Apparently there are more than a few applications for being able to walk through walls."

Sam nodded – a few creative ideas already coming together in her mind. "Speaking of Area 51, I couldn't help but notice those crates outside. Potentially hazardous materials?"

Daniel nodded as she spoke. "Yes. They're from the original manifest which was catalogued from the lab upon its discovery."

"We suspected as much."

"Well, those hazardous classifications only came about due to Janus' encryptions," Daniel said, hoping to put Jack at ease – if at least for a moment, "and we've pretty much hit a dead end where those are concerned. I mean, McKay, Lee, Zelenka, and god knows how many others have pretty much exhausted their efforts on them."

"Myself included," Sam admitted.

Jack raised his eyebrows sceptically. "And you think you're going to succeed where they failed?"

"Well, I'm certainly going to try. I mean, for a guy who built a time machine and a device capable of disrupting the fundamental nature of subspace, who knows what else we might discover."

"Something to reverse ageing would be nice," Jack said. "It would do wonders for my prostate."

The corner of Daniel's mouth curled into a smile. "And if I come across anything, I'll be sure to let you know. But, if you're interested, you might want to check in with Doctor Lam if you want an answer to your ageing dilemma."

"Why, has she discovered the fountain of youth?"

"Well, if she has, she isn't letting on," Daniel said – much to Jack's disappointment. "She asked for my help translating Asgard cloning research."

"Ah, that takes me back," Jack mused.

"Asgard cloning research?" Sam repeated. "What could she possibly be needing that for?"

"That's the thing. Apparently, Woolsey asked her to look into it for him."

"Woolsey?" Jack and Sam said together.

Daniel nodded.

"Okay, what would Woolsey be needing that for?" Sam asked, her brow furrowed in thought.

"She didn't say, but it sounded important – at least to Woolsey, anyway."

Jack drew a deep breath and yawned. "Well, as it happens, I have a meeting tomorrow morning for Eli's debriefing, so I can ask him then," he said, stifling another yawn with the back of his hand. "But in the meantime, what did you do?"

Daniel understood the question by tone alone. "Yeah…"

There came a long pause.

"Well?"

Daniel hesitated, then muttered, "Well…"

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not getting any younger here."

"All I did was pick it up."

"You know, that sounds eerily familiar to how most crisis's we face come about," Jack said. He glanced across at Sam. "Hazardous materials comes to mind, too."

Daniel refrained from rolling his eyes. He had expected as much.

"Then why did it activate now?" Sam asked. "If it's been handled before –"

"Okay, okay, okay," Jack broke in, "let's rewind a little bit, shall we? What exactly did you activate?"

Daniel said nothing; instead, turning back to one of the lab's workbenches at his back – the contents of one of the 'Hazardous Materials' crates neatly laid out over it. There were crystals in all manner of shapes, sizes and colours – none of which Sam recognised as she drew up to the bench beside him – but, set apart from the others was a small, disk-like object. "This," Daniel said.

Daniel made no move to touch it. Circular and with a convex shape to its top side, it had a dull, cloudy transparency to it, but no other distinguishing features.

"That?" Jack said.

Daniel nodded.

"A control crystal?" Sam asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine on that one," Daniel said. "Not even McKay could make heads or tails of it when we first began cataloguing the lab."

"So what's wrong with it?" Jack asked.

"Well, I had to triple check our records to be sure before I could believe it for myself, but this object – as far as our records were concerned – was clear; perfectly transparent."

Sam crouched lower over the crystal. "Really?"

Daniel nodded. "I didn't notice it at first. Not right away, anyway," he added. "But the pictures were pretty clear."

"It could be a transmutation of some kind," Sam muttered – more to herself than Jack or Daniel. "Possibly even a thermal expansion…. Or impurities in the crystal itself…"

"So, you broke it?" Jack said.

Daniel shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, but I sure as hell did something to it."

Milky Way – Earth – San Francisco

DAVE SHEPPARD'S BEACH HOUSE

"So, what do you guys think of the place?" Sheppard closed the door behind him. "Pretty sweet, am I right?"

McKay's mouth fell open, signalling his own silent approval as he took in more and more of the sight before them. The sun, shining out of a clear and cloudless sky, streamed in through a wide patio door which opened onto an expansive balcony. But the golden sands of the beach and the clear blue waters beyond held little interest for him, and neither did anything else he saw before him. There was an 'X-Files' pinball machine, and a 'Tekken 3' and a 'House of the Dead' arcade machine lining the wall to their right.

"Ah, sweet!" he said, already fishing for loose change in his pockets.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sheppard said.

"Nice of your brother to let us stay here," Ronon said, seeming to express little interest in the property as he looked to Sheppard.

Sheppard nodded. "Well, given how many properties he owns, it's not like he's gunna miss one," he said, dropping off his duffle bag beside all their other luggage. "Sure as hell beats a hotel, though."

With no hotel experiences to draw upon other than his brief stays at Stargate Command, Ronon just nodded.

"You want a beer?"

"Sure."

As Sheppard moved off, Ronon lingered a few moments longer, drawn to the sound of gunfire as McKay made himself quite at home on the 'House of the Dead' arcade machine – his jacket slung over the back of the nearest chair. With an unenthused expression, he looked on as the game, and a rather short one at that, played out. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth at that, which grew even wider as McKay scrambled to find more change. He lingered a moment or two before finally detaching himself from the game.

The living room flowed seamlessly with the dining and kitchen area; enough to comfortably accommodate over a dozen people.

"Take a load off," Sheppard said, indicating to the bar top. "Dave said that it should be pretty well stocked," he said as he approached the fridge, "but with what is another matter entirely."

And no sooner had Ronon sat down, then a beer came gliding over the polished oak surface of the bar top to rest in Ronon's waiting hand. "Thanks." And he took to downing half the bottle in a single draught.

"Well, here's to two weeks of sun, sea and surf," Sheppard said, tipping his bottle to Ronon before taking a swig.

Ronon drank down the last of his, depositing it down on the bar top as the last words left Sheppard's mouth. "And drink."

Sheppard smiled, indulging in his beer again. "That too."

Milky Way – Earth – Atlantis

COMMUNICATION'S LAB

There were few tells which Graham had observed when the transference took effect, but as he looked on, watching Colonel Telford sitting in silent meditation before him, none had yet to present themselves. He checked his watch again. It read 12:17 P.M.

Late again, he thought to himself – something which was becoming a bit of a habit for Eli of late, with each passing day amounting to yet another delay. Not that it could be helped, he knew – not with a four-day deadline hanging over the young man's head.

Telford then drew in a sharp inhale of breath.

And there was the tell.

"Oh, I am so not going to get used to this."

Graham stepped forward, regarding Telford with an uncertain glance. "Mr. Wallace, I assume?"

"The one and only."

"Authentication code?"

"One seven nine…" As he spoke, Eli leaned back, easing himself comfortably into the chair as he sought to adjust to the new lease of vitality offered by Telford's body. Back on Destiny, every effort seemed to exhaust him further, with fatigue and lethargy bearing him down as he pushed himself further, harder than he had ever done before. Sleep had been a luxury he could ill afford to indulge in, with each second of air proving as invaluable as the last. But here, all that blissfully melted away in the blink of an eye. "… eight seven four zero."

"Welcome back, Mr. Wallace. I'm Staff Sergeant Graham. When you are ready, I will be your escort to the conference room for the debriefing."

With a noncommittal nod, Eli sunk himself further into the chair, exhaling a deep sigh of contentment as he did so. "Just one more minute."

"Please, take all the time you feel necessary to adjust."

"Oh, I was planning to."

"I take it then that you have had no further success?" Graham asked delicately as he swiped his hand over the door control console.

Eli shook his head.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

As they emerged into the corridor, a sudden figure stepped across their path; arm outstretched toward the door control panel.

"Oh!" Woolsey stepped back in his haste to avoid an almost certain collision. "Ah, Sergeant," he said, recovering his balance well, "and Mr. Wallace. Welcome back."

"Mr. Woolsey," Eli said, accepting a proffered hand.

Woolsey then turned to Graham. "I will take it from here, Sergeant. Thank you."

Straightening up, Graham nodded. "Take care, Mr. Wallace." With a curt nod he turned on his heel and walked back into the communication's lab.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Eli," Woolsey said. "Though, I had hoped that it was not under such… dire circumstances."

"She's an old ship."

"Indeed, she is." Woolsey nodded. "But, nonetheless, a position you should never have had to place yourself in. None of you, for that matter. Doctor Rush's actions were entirely self-serving, without any regard for you, or anyone else on that ship."

"Well, it's not like there's anything we can do about it now."

There was a pause. A deep hesitation which Eli knew all too well.

"Unfortunately, no," Woolsey said. "However, there has been a recent development which I believe you should be made aware of, and I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time to discuss it before the debriefing."

Concern was quick to fill Eli's thoughts. "What kind of development?"

"I believe it would be best if we were to discuss this matter in private. Please, it will only take a few moments of your time."

"What about the debriefing?"

"Believe me, Eli," Woolsey's tone grew serious. "You will wish to hear what I have to say. I assure you."

Eli's brow furrowed further. "Okay."

"If you would follow me, there is an empty laboratory up ahead where we might speak in private."

The lab was empty, and all power save for the lights were out as they walked inside. Small and circular in shape, it consisted of nothing more than three control consoles equally spaced around a cluster of transparent glass tubes situated in a rectangular shaped fixture.

The door closed and, wasting no time, Woolsey asked, "Have you been able to make any progress with the stasis pod?"

"Honestly?"

Despite hearing the truth of the answer in Eli's tone, Woolsey nodded.

"I can't fix it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure." Eli couldn't help but not keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Look, I wish I had better news for you, but Destiny has been through hell since we came on board, and God only knows what else in the millions of years since her launch. Hell, I'm surprised she's still flying. Even Rush is."

Woolsey closed his eyes, stepping past Eli and breathing a dispirited breath.

"Mr. Woolsey, what's going on?"

Woolsey swallowed lightly, resting a hand on the control console and looking upon the glass tubes before him with a thoughtful expression. Even with Eli's current predicament occupying much of his thoughts, there was something eerily familiar about them – something which he couldn't quite put his finger on. But that would have to wait.

"There are certain members of the IOA who believe that the value of your knowledge far outweighs the sacrifice that you are willing to make in order to fix the stasis chamber."

"What do you mean?"

Woolsey finally turned back. "Do you remember Andrew Covel?"

Covel? Eli thought. "What does he have to do with this?"

"As I am sure you are no doubt aware, Doctor Covel came aboard Destiny a few months ago with Senator Michaels, in order to investigate the signal which the Ancient's discovered within the cosmic microwave background radiation."

"Yeah. But I still don't see what –"

Woolsey broke in, "Upon discovering his own fate due to the severity of the radiation poisoning which he received during the Lucian Alliance attack, Doctor Covel attempted to sabotage the communications stones."

"Can't say he made a lifetime friend in Greer for that."

"Doctor Covel and Senator Michaels died shortly after the disarmament of the naquadria bomb."

"Oh, sorry."

"That's quite alright, Eli," Woolsey said, "but in so doing, Doctor Covel's attempt at sabotaging the communication stones opened up a whole new field of study with regards to their operation. As such, recent studies, taken in conjunction with research from Atlantis' database has confirmed that the transference of consciousnesses can be swapped out indefinitely – even after the long-range communications device has been switched off."

"… even after…"

Woolsey felt an uneasy discomfort pass over him as the revelation became clearer. "I'm sorry, Eli," he said. "But you have my personal assurance that their proposal is just that. A proposal. Nothing more."

"And they can shove it where the sun don't shine, 'cause it aint gunna happen." Eli's tone rose, angrily.

"And you won't. You have General O'Neill's assurance on that. As well as mine," Woolsey added, firmly. "However, I have an alternative which I wanted to run by you before I present it during the debriefing. And believe me, Eli, it is far more preferable to the one being… considered by the IOA."

"What is it?"

"Well, ever since we came into possession of both the Asgard computer core and the Ancient database, we have been able to make tremendous strides in virtually every field of study. However, there is one field of study which the Asgard have researched and studied for thousands of years, and one which I believe may very well be your salvation."

"Go on," Eli said, interested.

"Cloning."

"Wait…" Eli drew back, his eyes widening with surprise. "You want to clone me?"

CONFERENCE ROOM

"Mr. Wallace does not have four weeks, Mr. Woolsey," Strom said.

"I am well aware of the time constraints facing Mr. Wallace, Carl," Woolsey said. "However, I find it hard to believe that you would have even considered such a plan. What gives you the right to judge one life's worth over another?"

"Hear, hear," Jack concurred.

"A suitable volunteer has yet to –"

"A suitable volunteer!" Jack's voice rose to a shout. "Do you even hear yourself?!"

"Of course, we would never have pressured Mr. Wallace into anything without his permission."

Jack snorted. "Oh, yeah, like we haven't heard that one before," he sarcastically retorted, narrowing his gaze on Strom. "A certain incident with the Replicators comes to mind."

Strom retained his composure, not allowing himself to rise to Jack's bait as they stared across the table at one another. "And we have already apologised for that incident, General."

"Ah, yes, I remember it fondly."

Woolsey cleared his throat. "I think we are beginning to stray a little bit off topic here," he said. "And I think it is fair to assume that Eli would never have gone through with your proposal."

"Or your own for that matter," Strom replied.

"Actually," Eli broke in, letting his own voice be heard for a change, "I prefer his plan over yours," he said, looking to Strom, "but like you said, I don't have two months."

Jack leaned forward over the desk. "How much time are we talking about here?"

"About forty-six hours," Eli replied.

"Forty-six hours?" Woolsey repeated. "I thought you had over six days before you reach the threshold of your power limitations?"

"Oh, I do, but I'm not risking their lives on my calculations."

"Do you not trust your own calculations?" Strom asked.

"Well, they've served me pretty well so far," Eli said. "Hell, they're what got me onboard Destiny in the first place, but that doesn't mean that I'm willing to stake the lives of the crew on them."

"But surely you would wish to use what little time you have left in order to fix the stasis chamber?"

Eli closed his eyes, drawing in a seething breath. "Have you not been listening to a single word I said?!" he said, his voice breaking with a sudden deep anger. "The pod can't be fixed. Not by me. Not by anyone. Hell, not even the frickin' Ancients could fix that thing. So please, stop asking!"

"Then what are you going to do, Mr. Wallace?" Strom asked, unperturbed by his anger. "If you cannot fix the stasis chamber –"

"Then my options are pretty slim, I know," Eli finished sharply.

"Eli, are you sure that there are no more stasis chambers elsewhere on Destiny?" Woolsey asked.

"Do you really think we'd be having this conversation if there were?"

Overlooking Eli's tone, Woolsey said, "Well, I only ask because, if these figures are to be believed…" He looked down at an open file on the table in front of him. "… then there is definite discrepancy between the number of stasis pods and the number of crew quarters on Destiny."

"Discrepancy?"

"Yes." Woolsey nodded, tracing his pen over both figures on the file. "According to information obtained by Camille Wray, Destiny has crew quarters for approximately one hundred and twenty people."

"Sounds about right," Eli said.

"Then why would they only build eight stasis halls?" Woolsey asked. "I mean, with one pod capable of supporting only one person, why would they build an insufficient number of them if they had originally intended for a larger crew to inhabit the ship?"

The more Woolsey spoke, the more intrigued Eli became as he thought it over for himself. "But if there were more, I'd know about it."

"It does seem an awful waste of space," Jack put in.

Woolsey nodded. "And it stands to reason that the primary purpose of the stasis pods is for the intergalactic jumps."

"Well, obviously," Eli said, "but that still doesn't change what I've read in the database. There are no more pods."

"And we're back to square one," Strom said, speaking up.

"Well, it's not like I left it in the first place," Eli said. "But yeah, back to square one."

"So, there's nothing else you can do?" Jack asked, his voice edged with concern.

"No. Not unless I can find more power for life support…" Eli's voice trailed away as a thought suddenly struck him – and he almost slapped himself for not thinking of it sooner. "Oh my god, the shuttle!"