Author's Note: Yup, more whumping there shall be, just you wait. It's been the calm before the storm. There's got to be some of that, too, right? Got to give the poor guys a break sometimes. ;-)
"Now that we're all having a break, I'd like to hear some updates. How're we doing? Anything, anyone?" Mitchell asked.
"We've put over half of the texts in order. I think we might be done by the end of the day," Eilerson sounded confident about it.
Jackson smirked, suggesting that he didn't quite agree, but didn't say anything, just kept poking his cold MRE with his spoon. All right, so it really wasn't a gourmet meal, but at least it was food.
"Good work. Then we'll just have to decide who gets to be the lucky one who punches the walls."
"Couldn't we take turns? There's no reason it has to be the same person touching each," Carter suggested.
"Now, that's an idea. So, Sam, have you got anything new to tell?"
"I'm afraid not. The ZPM has melted right into its slot, we can't get it out, and even if we could, we'd have nothing to replace it with, and it'd do us no good, since it's not working anymore. It also means we don't have to worry about getting any more visitors. Other than the ZPM, there are no clearly discernible parts in the device, no control panel or anything like that. I'm not sure if working on it is the best thing to do right now, I could just move over to the tables as well."
"Teal'c, Galen, what's up with the tables anyway?"
"We have found several objects that Galen deems interesting, but will not say much more. Also, there is another Ancient diary, which I gave to Daniel Jackson, a few picture viewers that show planets as seen from space and landscapes from their surfaces. And one device which seems as if it could be used to clean one's teeth."
"No! Really? An Ancient toothbrush? That's just..." Mitchell shook his head. "Well, keep looking, there's got to be something we can use there. At least the diary is a good find, if it's got anything in it that helps with the walls. Jackson?"
Daniel had suddenly leaped up from where he'd been sitting. "Yeah! I've got it now!" he exclaimed, whatever that meant.
"Daniel? What's up?"
Ignoring Mitchell, he made his way back to the wall he'd been staring earlier. Eilerson followed him, already asking doubtfully,
"You think you actually managed to figure it out?"
"No, I don't think, I know. Just look at it. I knew it's something familiar. It's way too familiar to have taken me this long. It's Demotic! Or, rather, it's not Demotic, but some extremely evolved odd version of it, something that's never existed in our universe."
"Demotic? That's clearly not Greek, so you mean, Demotic Egyptian?"
"That's what it's got to be. It's so similar that I can't see what else it could be. This is amazing! It's, it's the next stage of Egyptian writing--what would've happened if Egypt had never succumbed to foreign rule-"
"Yes, that's all very interesting, but the main problem remains. Can you date it?" Eilerson was perfectly dispassionate.
"I'll have to translate it first. I can't read it right away, it's so different, but I think I can soon enough, and maybe that'll give us some hint to the dating..."
"Good thing you can read it, Daniel, but now, we're having a lunch break. All of us. You can work on it later," Mitchell told them.
Eilerson left the wall and came back to the rest of them, but Jackson sat down right in front of the wall and opened a book on the floor, and went on, just like earlier, poking a cold MRE, while his thoughts were probably a thousand years away.
For a moment, they all sat and ate in silence. Mitchell had started to have this thing against silence in here. This place was so eerily silent. There just weren't any sounds at all if no one spoke, no hum from the air conditioning, no mechanical sounds from the technology that was bound to be everywhere around them, nothing. Because of that, Eilerson's sudden, sharp question startled him, though it was aimed at Galen.
"So, Galen--now that we're all sitting here together nicely and comfortably--you wouldn't care to explain why I've never seen you heal anyone before? And more than that, why haven't you done anything about the plague, you and all your techno-magical friends who just spend their time hiding somewhere? Can't waste time saving lesser planets?"
"Maximilian--you don't think I'm doing everything I can, everything in my power, to help Earth?"
"Of course I don't. You keep to yourself, you keep more secrets than the rest of the crew combined, we never know exactly what you're about, and you're not exactly straightforward about it either."
"We don't need to have this conversation, not here, not right now, Maximilian."
"Oh yes, Galen, I think we're having it right here, right now, in front of these people, with you unable to toss me with a fireball if you're unhappy about it. So they'll know everything as well."
"There is no 'everything' to tell. There's a very simple reason I can't just go and heal the plague: I can't. None of us can. Disease are generally much more difficult to heal than injuries, and something as complex as this is beyond our skills and means."
"And you really expect me to believe that?"
"What you believe or do not believe is not my concern."
Interesting as the conversation was, with all the odd things it told about these techno-mages and about Galen, Mitchell couldn't let it go on. "Gentlemen, guys, folks--Max, I agree with Galen, this isn't the time or the place for this. That's rule number two from now on--wait, no, actually, it's rule number three. One: No Touching the Walls. Two: No Wasting Water. Three: No Fighting. Am I making myself clear?"
"I've really no reason to take orders from you," Eilerson said. Something Mitchell had been expecting ever since he first declared he was in charge. He wasn't going to put up with it.
"We've got to work together here. We're running out of water. We won't live long without it. Fighting isn't going to help us get out. So you just shut up, Eilerson, shut the fuck up, and do your best. You can fight all you wish once we get out. Until that, No Fighting!"
Mitchell didn't get the satisfaction of seeing Eilerson's expression change, since it didn't. He stared back just as arrogantly as ever, but at least he really did shut up.
The post-Demotic Egyptian text really was something. Translating it was a test of creativity and intuition, since the grammar was different from what Daniel was used to, and it was full of odd words he'd never met before. Of course, they were words that had never existed in the world he knew. But what it came down to was that it was some sort of a declaration of human rights. It said that all are equal, women and men alike, all races, all peoples, all religions, and so on. No mention of any divine powers at all.
This was something that the ancient Egyptians he knew would certainly not have written. His best guess for a date was that this was pretty new, possibly newer than the medieval, the Kalinga and the Minbari. He couldn't be sure, he couldn't really base that on anything, but that was what his intuition said. That if this Egyptian language and the civilization that had written it had evolved directly from what he knew to this, then it'd have taken a thousand years, maybe more. He was willing to bet on it.
"Max? I've got something on this one. Any luck with yours?"
Max walked over to Daniel from the wall he'd spent the last several hours working on. "What've you got?" he asked, not answering Daniel's question. Probably didn't want to tell that he hadn't got anything new to say.
"I'm betting that this one's newer than anything we've arranged before, but probably older than Polish."
"And that's a guess?"
"I've translated it, and the way it reads, a declaration of human rights thing, that's my best guess based on my knowledge of the entire Egyptian culture."
"Right. Which probably isn't a lot.
"Which actually is what I've been studying since I was a kid."
"And unfortunately we can't all be child prodigies."
Daniel had, as far as he knew, actually been a child prodigy. He had already heard several times that Max had certainly been one. Still, he ignored that comment as best he could, and changed the subject.
"Don't you think you were a bit optimistic when you said we'd have this figured out by the end of the day?"
"I think we've already got it, as close as we'll ever get. There are still two scripts that neither of us knows, and with what you've suggested, I think we can assume they're from some future timeline, so we just can't know them. Luckily there's only two, so we can try them both ways--Galen can always heal any injuries that someone might get if we don't get it right the first time."
"That's assuming that those two really are from the future, and not something we just don't know that'd fit in somewhere among the others."
"Look, logically thinking, they've got to be from the future. There's already a surprising concentration of texts from the first millennium CE. There's only two that're millions of years old, that one lucky guess of yours from your first try, and then the Ancient. Then there's the hieroglyphic Egyptian. Then the Ogham, the Kalinga, the medieval neume notation, the Minbari--all from a surprisingly short period of time. Next, you'd put your Demotic, right? And after that..."
"It could be either Polish or the Vis Uban, which might not be very old, though on the other hand, it could be way older than I think."
"No--logic, again! We've already got so many texts from some periods, I think we've got to have at least a few from recent times. I'd say it's recent. Maybe contemporary to you."
"So, you'd put Polish first, and then Vis Uban, and then the two we don't know in some order. So, the last four come down to just guessing and hoping no one gets hurt too bad."
"I'm not going to be the one who presses the walls. Neither should you. We're needed to figure this out. If we can't get it right now, then we'll have to think about it some more. The others can't do that, so they're expendable."
"You're just not willing to risk your precious neck," Daniel muttered. He was going to do it, actually. He wouldn't let anyone else get hurt again for his mistakes. But he wouldn't argue. No Fighting, as Mitchell had said. "Anyway, if that's our best guess, maybe we shouldn't waste more time. Let's go and talk this over with the others, so we can actually try it out."
"Jackson, no. One word, two letters, you're a linguist, you can figure this out. No. No way, Daniel." Mitchell could hardly believe he was hearing this from someone who was supposedly so brilliant.
"Then we'll really never get out, because there's no way I'm going to let anyone else risk it again. I already failed once, and nearly got you killed. I won't let it happen again. Either it's me doing the walls, or then no one. Besides, it shouldn't be that bad this time, with Galen around."
"And if it's something he can't heal? Who's going to figure out the correct order if you get your head chopped off or something?" Right, that was awful, Mitchell hated it as soon as he had said it, but it was true as well. They couldn't even begin to guess all the things that could happen if they'd make a mistake again. Which was why Mitchell thought they should do it one at a time, one person per one wall, in a random, fairly drawn order.
"If I get it wrong, I'll just be glad it wasn't someone else, and you've still got Max around. He'd not touch the walls for a million dollars."
Eilerson shrugged. "How much are your dollars worth? There's always a proper price for everything."
"Never mind. Cam, you've got to let me do it. We think we've got it right now, anyway, there's only two texts at the end that we don't know and aren't sure about, so we'll have to guess, but even then, it's a fifty-fifty chance, and if it's not right at the first time, then we can just try the other one."
"Daniel... You don't have to do it, no one's blaming you for the previous time," Carter tried. But he just wouldn't listen.
"We're not getting anywhere with this. I'm going to do it. Just try and stop me," Jackson declared, heading for the first wall--the one he had guessed correctly the first time, when Mitchell had done the wall-touching.
Teal'c stopped him before he got there, grabbing hold around his waist. No way Jackson could escape that hold, though he was struggling and squirming all he could..
"Teal'c! Teal'c, please. Come on. Let me go. This is my job. If I get it wrong, it's my fault, and I take the blame and the punishment. Isn't that the way the Jaffa think? That one must pay for one's mistakes?"
"Indeed it is, but these mistakes will not be yours alone. They will be those of Max Eilerson as well," Teal'c spoke with the steady voice of reason.
"Then we're not getting out. I won't tell the correct order to anyone."
"What's to stop me from telling it?" Eilerson put in. "I just want to get out. I don't mind who does it, as long as it's not me. Daniel, really, it's so touching that you're willing to be the martyr, and the concern you others show is every bit as moving, but get over it already."
"Stay out of this, Eilerson," Mitchell said coldly. "Daniel? All right. No Fighting's still the rule. I'm going to let you do this. Do it quick, before I change my mind. Get us out. Galen, stay close to him just in case."
Jackson nodded grimly. Teal'c released his hold, and without a moment's hesitation Jackson walked to the first wall and touched it. It lit up as before.
The next two walls they already knew--the Ancient and the Egyptian. No surprises there either, they started to glow soothingly just like the first one.
"Max? We agreed that it's the Ogham that's next, right?" he checked with Eilerson before proceeding. Whatever Ogham might mean.
"Leprechauns, fiddling and green hills. 3rd to 6th century."
With Galen following right on his heels, Jackson walked over to a wall covered in horizontal lines that had sets of shorter vertical lines crossing them, and touched it. The second his fingers hit the surface, they all saw it wasn't correct. The lights from the other walls blinked out.
The Ogham wall stayed dark, no hint of anything bright striking at Jackson. Instead, there was a really odd sound, a sort of a buzzing whistling, and a hint of movement in the air between him and the wall.
And then Jackson was lying on the ground, writhing in pain, with a forest of spikes sticking out of his upper body.