Disclaimer: Stargate:SG1 and Quantum Leap are nothing to do with me.

Reviewers: the treat of the day is... Options Belgian Hot Chocolate - less than 40cals per drink :)

NB: I'm working on the basis that Sam Beckett has 6 doctorates and 1 masters, due to various comments by Al over the years. Various episodes proved that he has doctorates in Medicine, Quantum Physics, Ancient Languages and Music (yes, I do believe that this man is either far too intelligent or has too much time on his hands!) - so I've added Artificial Intelligence and Neurology to his doctorates (makes sense considering Ziggy and the neural holograms), plus Archaeology as a masters.

Sam woke up to find Daniel shaking his shoulder gently.

"Jack? It's early, but Sam wants us to drop by the lab before seeing General Hammond. Jack? Wake up, Jack..."

A whiff of the strongest coffee he'd ever smelt was the final wake-up call. Now Sam knew what Daniel had meant earlier in the night.

"Ok, ok – I'm awake! But get that mug away from me," he laughed. "Do you have anything to eat other than solid caffeine?"

A small candy bar sized wrapper flew towards him across the room, full of... something. It looked like military issue, but he couldn't tell.

"Power bars!" Daniel commented cheerily, digging into one himself.

Making a judgement that this was probably safe to eat, Sam peeled it open and took a bite. A bland, dry, cake-like substance – but sugary at the same time. Possibly a hint of guarana. It struck him that to a scientist-cum-academic who enjoyed all-nighters, this was probably the ideal foodstuff – but it wasn't exactly appetising.

"Nice," he thanked the Leapee's 'friend', having finished the power bar in 3 bites. "That'll do fine until we reach the canteen. I'm healing remember, need real food."

"Uh-huh," Daniel mumbled. "Well the canteen won't open for another hour at least, so this will have to do for now."

"What?" Sam was wide-awake now. "What time is it, and where did you sleep, Daniel?"

"On my desk, as usual – the General gave me that bed months ago, but I never seen to make it that far. Oh, and it's 6am."

Sam resisted the temptation to blink in alarm. He and military bases didn't mix much, though a trip to a lab sounded interesting... then again there were plenty of artefacts in this room that he'd love to get his hands on too. It didn't sound like he had much choice though, whatever time of day it was, so he may as well take the opportunity to get out and gather some more information – it wasn't as if Al had materialised during the night, unfortunately.

"So," Daniel continued. "What do you fancy – crutches or wheelchair?"

Sam screwed his face up, certain that this would be Jack's response. "Let me give this a shot first..." he ventured, putting down the empty wrapper and making an attempt to stand up.

Quick as a flash, Daniel ran around the desk and grabbed Sam under the arm just before he collapsed in pain. That ankle wasn't going anywhere, he thought grimacing.

"Wheelchair, O'Neill, right now."

"Yessir..." Sam managed a weak grin and a salute. "You're the boss."

As he was 'chauffeured' through the base to another Sam's lab, Sam Beckett prepared himself to ignore all conversation directed at someone with the same name – and attempted to record a mental map of this facility. It could get awkward otherwise. That and this was the ideal time to go over what he knew so far, since Daniel was concentrating far more on manoeuvring the wheelchair more than he was on chatting.

'Number one,' Sam thought to himself. 'It is either the 20th or 21st September 1998, and probably in Colorado or New Mexico.'

He'd seen the date on the release forms they'd asked him to sign before leaving the infirmary, upon which he'd made a bit of a scribble, knowing that in this situation the medical team wouldn't be that fussed about a perfectly correct signature. Sam was aware that it could easily have been before or after midnight, hence the 20th or 21st.

Daniel's reference to London earlier had given him a link to time zone though, which also helped. The obvious conclusion here was that he was in the Mountain time zone of the US, since the uniforms were American, unless summer time was out of sync with the UK. More to the point, if it was September 1998 he was very very close to the 'present'.

'Number two,' he continued, 'we are 28 floors underground.'

This was obvious in several ways, and was the reason why he thought he might be in Colorado or New Mexico – home to numerous secret installations. On their way to from the infirmary last night they'd passed an elevator shaft with "-28" written on it, and he hadn't seen a single window yet. Plenty of ventilation shafts though, and lots of strip lighting. That made it a particularly secret sort of installation, even more so than Project Quantum Leap, which was a mere 10 floors below ground. Interesting.

'Number three, this place is run by the USAF... but there seem to be some members of other forces here.'

He'd seen Marines anyway. What they were doing here was another matter, and one he didn't think he'd discover by himself. The fact that they were working together was interesting enough.

'Four – Daniel is a civilian, and he's lost someone called Shar Ray.'

Dr Daniel Jackson, from what he could tell. At least, he knew the guy's name was 'Daniel', the office door had 'Jackson' written on the outside, and this office was chock full of ancient looking artefacts and books, lots of books. Far too many for a student, who would never be trusted with this kind of material outside a lab, library or museum. An archaeologist then? Possibly, and if so Sam hoped he'd be able to get up to speed fairly quickly since he had a Masters in Archaeology and a doctorate in Ancient Languages. He'd even Leaped into an archaeologist five, six... maybe seven... Leaps ago, exploring the tomb of the Egyptian pharaoh Ptah-Hotep. That had been the topic of his Masters thesis, so for once he'd fallen on his feet pretty well.

As for Shar Ray – he guessed that the first name was a nickname or short for Sharon – he or she could be anyone, but was obviously very important to Daniel. Given his phrase "after everything we're doing" it seemed that her loss was linked to this base, though how was still a mystery. With any luck, finding Sharon Ray would be Sam's mission.

'Number four, what are these places – possibly people – beginning with P?'

He'd heard three so far: PJ1-427 (where the new wounded had been), PX7-418 (where Daniel's translation had come from) and P3X-970 (where his host had apparently been earlier). Without Ziggy's help though, Sam didn't think he'd be able to crack this one. He was pretty sure that they were places, maybe even code designations, but there wasn't enough information to take him much further.

'And number five.'

Sam didn't even want to say it, but he had to. What the hell was that giant ring? The impossibilities – or unknowns, as he forced himself to think – surrounding that thing were immense. The fire fight, featuring strange energy bolts. The lack of anything behind it, despite and obvious ramp to it. The fact that it was 28 floors underground and seemed to be an obvious source of hostilities. And no one else was batting an eyelid.

Sam Beckett knew that his mind was swiss-cheesed, but he wasn't stupid. Something strange was going on here, and he didn't think that if he'd known about this he would have forgotten. The 64 million dollar question was: did Al know?

Finally they reached their destination, and Sam discarded the wonders in Daniel's office in favour of a more familiar paradise – it was a physicist's lab, hallelujah! And, if he wasn't mistaken, there was a lot of theoretical numbering going on on that blackboard.

"I know, sir, it's all gobble-de-gook."

The feminine voice shook him out of his reverie. He'd been staring at the board, reading his way through the unfinished equation and trying to fill in any gaps he could... very unlike Jack O'Neill, or so it would appear.

Spinning round on his larger axle, Sam faced what could only be described as a beautiful woman. Short blonde hair. Lab coat. Military kit underneath. Another consultant? No, she'd called him "sir". Who was she?

"Morning!" He greeted her brightly, attempting to remove his foot from his mouth.

"Yes sir," the woman replied, saluting. "I took the liberty of drafting a report of our visit to P3X-970 for you – I don't think General Hammond will be able to note much difference, Colonel, and it seemed fair considering your, um, injury."

Sam accepted the brief blankly, unsure of how to respond but returning the salute so she could 'stand down'. He remembered someone mentioning a report last night... Thankfully, Daniel was there too.

"Hey Sam, that's really great of you. Isn't that great, Jack?"

The man in the wheelchair picked his chin off the ground and tried to agree in a coherent kind of way. He'd gotten the wrong end of the stick there all right – her name must be Samantha! And she must also be on his 'team.' Talk about missing the point.

"Um, yeh, thanks Sam..."

Daniel and Sam looked at each other quizzically, before the woman replied with a worried look.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to insult your ability or anything – I just thought that it would save you time. I shouldn't have presumed."

She seemed to be awaiting a judgement of some sort, and Sam – grasping at a possible rejoinder – suddenly spotted a possible get-out-of-jail-free card. The name on her lab coat came into view: "Carter". He might not know her rank, but since she'd saluted him and called him sir, the chances were he could get away with this.

"No apologies necessary, Carter – that's just great. I don't know how to thank you."

He'd put on a big grin to match the enthusiastic words, hoping desperately that it would work. No response.

"Carter, stand down. Thank you, I gladly accept your report and I will submit it to General Hammond after reading and inwardly digesting in case he asks me any awkward questions. Are we clear?" A nod. Phew! "Now what are we here to see?"

Carter sprang back into action, moving around the table and waving for Daniel to push him in that direction also.

"Colonel, I've completed the preliminary analysis on this artefact that we picked up yesterday. I can't yet find out what it does, but I have discovered some microscopic writings around its base."

Sam looked at Daniel, guessing that this was usually his speciality but still not understanding why. The other man seemed pretty keen though, whisking copies of the writing out from Sam's hand straight away.

"Yes, I know this dialect – ok, it's something about a shield to protect the ka," Daniel's thoughts rushed straight from his brain to his mouth. "Oh wait... but we got this from Hemuset – she was a goddess of fate and protection in Egyptian mythology, with a guiding role over the ka, which was a bit like a soul."

He looked up, pushing a small amount of hair away from his glasses. "I'm going to need more time. This could be just her trademark, or the Goa'uld equivalent of 'Made in Taiwan', but obviously we want to be sure."

"Goold?" asked Sam, realising that his pronunciation was incorrect at the last minute.

"Yes, Jack," Daniel affirmed with a sigh. "And how many more times do I have to tell you that it's 'Go-ah-oold'?"

Sam could hear the 'other' Sam – he was going to have to call her 'Carter' in his head – trying not to laugh. Evidently this Jack O'Neill was a respected officer... up to a point. Maybe it was just the academics that slowed him down, although these two were obviously both teammates and specialists who knew Jack very well. Either way, the phrase "Goa'uld" obviously meant something to everyone bar himself. Maybe he should read this report and see if he could find out something more, but first...

"Ok Daniel, so you have yet another translation to get going on. Carter – any translation regarding those scribbles on the board?"

Sam knew that he was fishing for clues, but it looked like Jack O'Neill was this woman's senior officer – despite her being a strange mix between scientist and soldier – he decided that it was Jack's right to ask. 'Theory of wormholes,' he bet himself.

"Oh, I'm trying to understand how the Ancients set up the Stargates to create wormholes. Obviously we know how to dial, but we're still not sure on the mechanics of the wormhole's creation or how they maintain its stability. It's fascinating, but I don't get enough spare time to concentrate on it since we keep bringing back these popcorn machines for me to analyse."

Sam's mind was reeling from the consequences of Carter's words before she'd even finished, and the gleam in her eye told him that this was a practical analysis – not up-in-the-air theory. Wormholes he could deal with, but not those talked about in the present tense nor controllable ones. 'Dialling' and 'Ancients' was even more confusing... but how could this be the near-present if the US Government had a way of controlling wormholes from a facility deep underground? And more importantly, where did they go? Was that what he'd seen when he'd Leaped in? Thoughts and ideas were falling into place, but they still didn't make any kind of sense that he understood.

"Sir?"

Sam realised that he must look like a stunned mullet – and no wonder. 'Popcorn machine.' His mind grasped at the phrase like it was a life preserver - it had to be an in-joke of some sort, because he'd heard Daniel mention it when she'd called earlier. This could buy him some time.

"Err, just let me know whether it does sweet, butter or salt, ok Carter?" Sam replied weakly, but grinning, hoping that it made sense while he pulled himself together. "Now, is there a terminal round here where I can go through this report while you two can carry on playing with the popcorn?"

"Of course sir, just over there." Carter gestured. "Would you like me to wheel you round?"

"I'm not an invalid, Carter," Sam growled in what he hoped was a passable imitation of Jack O'Neill.

"No sir, of course not," Carter apologised, seemingly unsurprised by the comment. Even Daniel snickered in the background. "I'm already logged into the machine so you shouldn't have any trouble locating the file."

Taking a deep breath, Sam took a hold of the wheels' handrails and manoeuvred himself in the direction Carter had pointed. He had no idea whether this would help answer his questions or not, but after years of Leaping he sure hoped that he could remember how to use a modern computer... and that he didn't hit too many security barriers.

'Stop twitching, Beckett, you have a doctorate in Artificial Intelligence and you designed the world's first ego-driven computer,' he tried to remind himself, suppressing the little voice that yelled, 'you've got bigger holes in your memory than a block of Emmental!'

Absent-mindedly he noted the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, confirming that the date was indeed 20th September 1998. He knew he was stalling.

'Good work, Beckett, now stop procrastinating,' he chided himself. 'Onward and upward.'

Finding the draft report on the mission to P3X-970 was easy once he got started – it was the most recently open document – but its contents flummoxed him. So he read a couple of other reports, being organised very neatly on a tree according to 'place'. It looked as though Sam wrote one on most of the 'places' they visited, usually those where a new technology was discovered, and there were many references to something called 'naquadah' - a compound or element? Sam couldn't tell, but since he still couldn't make head or tail of this mystery he kept reading.

Many mission folders included a report by Colonel O'Neill, most of which requested a password to access.

'Maybe even some more clues to this man's personality – bonus!' thought Sam, double-clicking on any files that didn't require a password.

After reading a few of them he could see that Carter had mimicked her commanding officer's style more than adequately – she'd even used similar turns of phrase. He shouldn't need to change her draft at all, which was a relief since he had no idea about any of these missions, let alone the most recent one. Sam guessed that those he could access were the most peaceable missions though, and they seemed to be about contacting isolated tribes and making alliances against a common enemy called the Goa'uld.

This left him wondering yet again how this team could get attacked so regularly in what he believed to be 'peacetime', and who were the Goa'uld? Not only that, but where on earth did they manage to find this many isolated tribes who hadn't been contacted by modern society – Sam was sure that ethnographers had mapped just about every culture there was. Maybe not all, but there couldn't be this many left – especially since the team he now knew to be 'SG1' was one of several that went on similar missions. And judging by these reports, not all of these tribes were primitive. This was getting more confusing by the minute!

Next he tackled the reports signed by Daniel Jackson, mostly open access. These contained many translations from ancient languages he didn't entirely recognise – confusing in itself, since Sam had at least a passing knowledge of everything from hieroglyphics to runes – plus references to ancient Egyptian gods, sarcophagi and even the Norse gods. Daniel referred to them in the present tense though, which worried Sam greatly. He remembered Daniel's earlier reference to Hemuset – as if they'd gotten the so-called 'popcorn machine' from her. It didn't make any sense, almost like what Al called 'crazy talk', and not wanting to feel alienated from this younger man who he already felt he could trust to some degree, Sam closed those files and went in search of anything that could help him bring all of this information together.

Finally he found it, right what appeared to be the 'open access' section of the common drive for this base. "An Introduction to Stargate Command, with a foreword by General George Hammond." A video file that looked like something given to new recruits. Ideal.

'Ok, this is definitely a military base, Carter mentioned something called a Stargate and Daniel mentioned a guy named General Hammond who wanted to see me this morning. Stargate Command could well be the place...'

Sam quickly looked over his shoulder before opening the file, checking that Carter and Daniel were still hard at work with the popcorn machine. They had obviously forgotten that he was there, and certainly hadn't noticed that their 'Colonel' was close to having palpitations. Typical scientists.

Turning back to the screen, he smiled grimly and double clicked the file, putting the headphones next the monitor on his head so he could hear the audio, hoping – praying – that this could clear up what was a bit of a mess to say the least.

The next five minutes did not disappoint.

It was a revelation.

Sam Beckett, for all his IQ, doctorates and down-to-earth common sense, didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

This turned him upside-down.

This turned the world inside and out.

This answered so many questions and created a million more.

This terrified every inch of him, right down to his last stem cell.

This could not be denied, ignored or otherwise swept aside.

This was real.

And Al still wasn't here.

"Oh boy..."

Next chapter: Back in the waiting room