Organization. Putting this operation in order. Someone needed to be in charge and coordinate their efforts, so they could get out as fast as possible. And that was Mitchell's job. That was the first thing he decided once he woke up and figured out where he was and what was going on. So, once he'd gotten up, noticed to his embarrassment that he was the last one to do so, and eaten a cereal bar for breakfast, he called everyone to gather around.

"Now, folks. I think we need to arrange things a bit. See what everyone's up to, so everyone can do what they're best at and what's most useful for us. And unless you've got a lot against it, I'm going to be the one in charge. SG-1's my team, after all, and there's four of us, and only two of you future folks," he said, and waited for any possible complaints. He'd been sure Eilerson would come up with something, but surprisingly enough, even he stayed silent, and Galen gave a nod.

"So... Jackson, Eilerson, I guess you already know well enough what your job is?"

"Doing what no one else can--saving us all," Eilerson declared egoistically.

Jackson just cast an icy glance at Eilerson, crossed his arms and nodded.

"Sam, you keep working with the ice-mirror-thing-"

"The Veraeda," Eilerson put in.

"Whatever. You know what I mean. The device. See if there's any way it can be fixed, or anything that we can get from it that could be of any use."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll concentrate on the immediate survival issues--someone's got to do an exact count on how much supplies we have. Now that I'm at it, how about you, Galen, Eilerson--you didn't happen to bring any food or water with you?"

"Well, as we weren't supposed to stay in here for a long time... Not really, we didn't," Eilerson told, for once showing the shadow of an apology on his face.

"If we've got some and they have nothing, then we've got to share! We're all in this together," Jackson insisted. As if Mitchell wouldn't have done it anyway.

"Of course we're going to, though I'm not sure if we've got a whole lot of anything to share. Anyway, that's for me to find out. Which leaves Teal'c and Galen--"

"If I may suggest, Colonel Mitchell, I believe someone should continue investigating the objects on the tables."

"Which I think is a very good idea, Cameron, and I might be of some assistance there."

"Right. So, Teal'c and Galen work on the stuff on the tables. Good. Lunch at 1400 hours. No coffee breaks, since we can't have any coffee."

"Aw, come on, Cam," Jackson groaned. "No need to remind us of that. I'd kill for a cup of coffee..."

Though there was instant coffee in the MREs, they didn't have any water to waste, and no way of heating it, unless Teal'c and Galen should find the Ancient version of a camping stove. And water was what it'd all come down to, just in general.

Out of the basic survival needs, they didn't need to worry about shelter or warmth. Being too sheltered was, after all, the real problem. Their prison was comfortable enough when it came to temperature, and both Carter and Galen assured Mitchell that though they were on a space station, the Ancient technology was such that they'd not be running out of air. Lighting a fire in here would've probably been a very stupid thing to do, and impossible as well, since there was nothing to burn, but luckily they had no need to do it anyway. They had basic medical supplies, plus Galen's healing skills in case of further encounters with the walls. They didn't have a whole lot of food, but people could survive without food for a good while. So, water was the real problem.

They hadn't had a lot of water to begin with--just two quarts each, and Mitchell didn't know how much everyone had already drunk, so he'd have to check that. Maybe most of it. If they'd need to stay here much longer, with six people sharing what little they had, they'd soon be in trouble. As far as he knew, they had no way of getting more, since there didn't seem to be any kind of a water source in the room. Again, maybe there might be something on the tables, but he doubted it. If the Ancients had left in a hurry and had only taken the most important stuff with them, then they'd surely have taken all the water they could get.

Daniel knew other people thought he was good with people. He could usually get along with all kinds of people. And out of all the people in all the infinite universes out there, he had ended up with one he just couldn't stand. After just a few hours of working together, Max was driving him nuts. Still, Daniel had to admit that he was talented, knew a lot, and that they were making a lot more progress together than what he'd done alone. They might really be able to solve this.

The first thing Max had told had been that these walls weren't similar to what he'd seen in the Dodecagon in their universe. That suggested that maybe a new set was generated at random whenever the lockdown was initiated. Max also noted that this set of texts was worse than what he'd first had, since there were five of these that he didn't know at all. Daniel had recognized all but six. He wasn't usually the most competitive person around, but now, he was annoyed by that fact.

"You took this for Brahmi? No, no, no, Daniel, what where you thinking? This is newer than that. It's Kalinga, and unless it's from some timeline that differs from those of us both, it's from sometime between the 6th and the 11th century CE."

"Right. But in my opinion, it'd still come next after the Egyptian, unless one of those completely unrecognizable texts comes between them."

"Do you consider that one over there completely unrecognizable?"

"Actually, I thought as soon as I saw it that I've seen it somewhere before, I just couldn't tell where."

"Think green hills, fiddling, leprechauns, so on--our universes have too much in common not to have similar national clichés."

"Ireland! That's Ogham! So it's probably older than the Kalinga."

"Oh, yes, impressive thinking, Daniel. With this speed, we might even get out in a few years, or so."

Daniel bit his lip, keeping the sour remarks to himself. Fighting would not forward their cause. It wouldn't help at all. He'd just have to get along with Max. Go on with the business.

"And you've recognized this one here as well, right?"

"Yes. It took me by surprise at first, since unlike most of the others, this is written in an alien language."

"That's one thing I'd been wondering all along. A surprising majority of these are Earth languages, though of course in our universe many have spread to other worlds when the Goa'uld transported people there. I thought that was the whole idea of it. Ancients were basically humans, the first humans ever, at least in our timeline and our universe. I'm not sure about yours. Anyway, I figured that they'd have chosen to have only human writings on these walls. But now, you think that's not the case?"

"You've got to pay more attention to what I say, really. The language is alien, yes. It's a well-known Minbari religious text. But as it's said that it was written by Valen himself, that'd make it the work of a human."

"And that says nothing at all to me."

"Never mind. The bottom line is, this text was written by a human, so it doesn't actually break the pattern. As to dating it, it'd be 13th century CE. Right after the Ogham and the Kalinga."

"Of course, we can't be sure unless we can translate them and recognize the texts. Which isn't going to happen."

"Really, I'm not sure we even need to translate them all, they're clearly from different periods of time."

"Right. Anyway, can you read Kalinga or Ogham?"

"Of course I can--if I can first study a signlist, read a grammar, and check the words from a dictionary."

"So, it's not an issue. We'll just have to hope the order's right, even though we can't understand any of the texts. Great. At least I can translate this one in no time and maybe have an accurate dating, since it's medieval Latin, though I can't understand why it's that messy. Actually, it might even be older than your 13th century Minbari."

"You're right, I'll give you that. Of course, I could've translated the Latin as well, but I'll leave it to you and concentrate on something more challenging. Perhaps I'll try to check that one over there. You have no idea of what it might be?"

"None whatsoever."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least."

"You don't have any idea of what it is, either, do you? Just go away and let me work, Max. Please," Daniel said, finally unable to put up with Max's endless sneering.

Without Max harassing him, Daniel could almost enjoy working on this. Especially since he was able to figure out the medieval text in no time. It wasn't actually a text at all. It had words, the standard wording of the Gloria of a Roman Catholic mass, but the little squiggles he had taken as some sort of distortion or mess in the text were probably neume notation. It was a piece of music written in the medieval way. He wasn't very experienced with such things, but all things considered, he was pretty certain it was from the 10th or the 11th century. It was a period of time that overlapped that of the Kalinga, so that complicated things further--they couldn't know which came first without being able to read and date the Kalinga. They'd still just have to guess, unless they got some unexpected help.

Max, who was apparently fluent in Polish, had dated the text written in that language to the 19th century. What they had left was the Vis Uban text that Daniel could translate but couldn't date, and then three scripts that neither had recognized, one of which Max was working on at the moment. Daniel didn't want to talk to Max again, so he picked another one. There was something very distantly familiar about it, a lot more vague than what he'd felt about the Ogham. It was annoying. He went over to his stuff and grabbed a bunch of his old notes, hoping that they might shed some light on the matter.

He ended up staring at the wall stupidly, trying to dissect each symbol in his head. There was something so very familiar about them. His best guess was that they were an evolved, newer version of some old writing that he knew. If he could only name it.

"Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c's deep voice startled him out of his contemplation.

"What's it, Teal'c? Something important?"

"We found another Ancient diary, or a device that very much resembles one. I believe you wish to see it?"

"Right. I do, maybe not just right now..."

"Indeed, for it is also 1400 hours, the time for lunch set by Colonel Mitchell. Thus you can eat now, and then study the diary afterwards."

"Lunch time already? Okay. Now that you mention it, maybe I'm a bit hungry."

He followed Teal'c to one part of the room where Mitchell had gathered together all their supplies. Mitchell was looking grim, and when he had told them what he had to say, no one else looked cheerful, either.

"I hope some of you have good news to give, since I don't. We've only got about four quarts of water left, altogether, and so far no way of getting more. I guess you all understand what that means. Either we get out quick, or we'll get awfully thirsty in the days to come."