Chaos Theory : ReKeyed

by PitViper

This is a BtVS, NGE, SG1, SW, ST, LotR, Halo crossover. Based on the Halloween costume episode. Very AU. The Key's spell goes both forwards and backwards in time… what happens when it interacts with Ethan's Halloween?

7. Intersections in Real Time

Chaos Theory – Re-keyed. Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Neon Genesis Evangelion/Stargate SG-1/Star Wars/Star Trek/Halo/Lord of the Rings Crossover...

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Title: Chaos Theory: Re-keyed
Rating: PG - Language and Violence.
Genre: Crossover
Author: PitViper
Date (Part Seven): 2008-4-14/revised 2008-4-30

Summary: This is a BtVS/NGE/SG-1/SW/ST/LotR/Halo crossover. Based on the Halloween costume episode. Very AU. The Key's spell goes both forwards and backwards in time… what happens when it interacts with Ethan's Halloween?

Disclaimer: I don't own it, wish I did. I'm not making any money off of it – so please don't sue me. BtVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox. Neon Genesis Evangelion is the product of Gainax and ADV Films. Star Wars is owned by George Lucas. Stargate SG-1 belongs to Double Secret Productions and Sci-Fi channel. Lord of the Rings is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his family. Halo is owned by Bungie. And Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures (Who obviously understand nothing about Gene's vision of the future)

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Chaos Theory: Re-Keyed
Part Seven: "Intersections in Real Time"

Core group, twenty minutes earlier…

"Ok, so we know about the dangers of hell portals…" Xander sighed. "As long as we're careful and do our best to defend our perimeter we won't have a problem. But the thing concerning me right now is our distinct lack of available assets." He glared at Cortana for a second, "I know you're saying that one week for this, one month for that, six months for something a bit bigger… but that's overly optimistic. We can't afford to be that optimistic." Xander turned to Joyce, "Were there any defensive measures in the city?"

"Armed shuttlecraft: About on a par with a Federation type nine with a similar design philosophy. I counted approximately forty-eight craft, plus an additional twelve in various states of disrepair. Their dimensions suggest that they're designed to go through the Astra Porta."

"Just shuttles?" Xander frowned and shared a glance with Jack. "Assuming that the Alterans were in conflict with the Goa'uld, then they would have to have something a bit fancier than an armed shuttlecraft, gate capable or not. Ha'tak's carry dedicated fighter craft. And I'm sure that other hostile races like fighters a lot too. It doesn't make any sense…"

Guilty Spark began to interject: "The Alterans had three primary divisions in their government: Scientific, Religious and military. The scientific and military sects each shared vast amounts of information, however, the Religious sect concentrated on preserving mystical and spiritual knowledge, interacting with the other two sects only as required – their primary purpose was the health and spiritual welfare of the general population and the preservation of the ancient codes of honor from before the Alterans achieved spaceflight. The primary Military sect, however, eventually split from the main group, separating themselves from the scientific and religious sects. They became known as the Oriterans… more commonly referred to as the Ori. Several Orders of the Special Forces, who were trained and prepared by the religious sect as Knights, joined the Ori, granting them information of the spiritual and mystical forces around them.

"The scientists, seeking to preserve the peaceful Alteran lifestyle that had been enjoyed for several thousand years, allowed the religious cast to begin building its military forces up to counter the threat of the Ori. Long and harsh battles were fought on several different worlds between the militaristic Ori and the Orders of Alteran, as the religious sect's forces were known. Because of the war with the Ori, the Religious Sect separated itself from the Knighthood. The Knighthood retained the Mystic and Combat techniques, and began to grow their forces. At the Height of the Alteran Empire, the Knighthood contained almost 2 trillion soldiers, and protected 400 trillion sentient beings across six galaxies. Unfortunately, the Ori, being extremely militant, still possessed 40 trillion trained soldiers. While not anywhere near the equal of the Knights, the sheer numbers of the Ori war machine were enough to threaten any Alteran world. Even Terra Atlantis.

"The resultant battles laid waste to hundreds of worlds, and while the Ori had billions of warriors to throw at the Knights; each knight of the Order was worth more than a hundred Ori infantry. During this, the Alterans continued their research, explored and lived within their comfortable city-ships. Eventually, they learned how to tap both the mystical energies within them and their own potential to ascend to a higher plane.

"The knights continued to defend the Alteran worlds; however, a plague created by the Ori began to destroy all Alterans. The Ori, having learned how to ascend from their interactions with the Knights, did so, thus escaping the destruction brought about by their own creation. The Order of Alteran fell slowly, refusing to ascend… as the Goa'uld and other societies began attacking their protectorates. In time, no one remained to defend the Alteran worlds, and one by one, they returned to Terra Atlantis, the center of the empire and most well defended of all the worlds. In desperation, they made one final choice… Here, it was to move to another galaxy to begin again. In my home universe, it was to create the Flood to defeat the Ori and the other hostiles… using Terra Atlantis as the Ark. In both galaxies, the Halos were built. The difference is that in this reality, the Weapon at Dakara, a test platform for the Halos, was used to attack the Goa'uld, depriving them of the most promising host species they had at the time. In my universe, because of the Flood, all intelligent life was extinguished within three-galactic radii using the full force of the Halos."

"Woah," Xander admitted.

"How the hell did you get all that?" Jack asked, miffed. "You can't possibly know the history of this universe!"

Guilty Spark tilted in the air slightly, "Of course I can!" The Artificial Intelligence practically preened, "As a librarian I have access to the Alteran Data Net. I would hardly be able to catalogue your information properly unless I had somewhere to archive it. After all, I was able to clear your teams for access to the city below. As an Alteran Artificial Entity, I can gain access to most any facility. My clearances for the Ark and Halos allow me priority access to all systems within my transmission range."

Xander slapped his forehead, "I don't believe that I didn't think of this as soon as Light-bulb over here started spouting off about Alterans." He turned to 343 Guilty Spark, "GS, can you please tell me how many facilities are currently accessible by your systems, not including the city below us."

"Of course!" Guilty Spark said happily. He began glowing more brightly as his generators produced more power for his transmitters. As a few second passed he seemed to almost frown, "Curious… this data was not in my memory archives, and does not correspond with the data from my source universe. The Ark facility is not complete or is no longer present. The Planetary command and control facility is intact, but the Ark facility itself is not here." Guilty Spark glowed brighter for a moment, "I have access to the Ark Facility Command and Control, three primary Order Facilities, nine secondary Order facilities, three data net facilities, and twenty three associated outposts on Terra Atlantis. Six Primary data net facilities, six wavescan long range sensor facilities, and thirty five outposts on Luna Atlantis, all other systems are either not responding or outside my active communication range. The planetary data net's long range communications are offline and subspace communications locked down, most likely to keep the facilities from revealing their locations since the short range links are non-operative. Authorization for lockdown came from an Order Knight Lord. Do you wish to override the facility lockdowns and initiate direct access to these facilities?"

Xander spared a look at Jack, allowing him to make the decision.

Jack sighed, "Yes. Go ahead Guilty Spark."

Guilty Spark huffed in mid air. "I'm afraid you don't have access to approve the request, Colonel O'Neill. While you are several levels more qualified than the average Reclaimer, you are not a direct descendent of one of the Lords of the Alteran Orders. While your authorization is sufficient to access some of my databanks, only a full Knight Lord or their direct descendent can issue an override countermand, unless one is not available. As there is a higher level descendant available, you cannot issue the countermand order."

Xander was almost afraid to ask, "Who is the 'higher level descendent'?"

"Why you are, Mr. Harris. Because there are no valid, legally appointed members of the Order, and there are no elected members of the Alteran council available to assign military personnel to the Order, you are the senior most descendent currently available. Colonel O'Neill is also a descendent, but not of as high a rank as you, since you are the direct descendant of the last Knight Lord in charge of the Overseer facility. If you were not available, then a member descendent of the Royal Alteran Family, of which there are several members in this room, would be able to appoint him as a Knight Lord pending the election of a governing council."

"Who was the Last Knight Lord?" Jack asked, almost glad he wasn't the kid.

"Why, Senior Knight Lord Arthur Pendragon." Guilty Spark replied, "However, he did not know to override the lockdown order. His training was, sadly, more traditional. When he died, and his offspring was considered unworthy to claim his inheritance, the facilities once again resumed full lock down."

Buffy, who had been quiet up till now, turned as looked at him. "You're kidding, this guy," she pointed at Xander, "is… a descendent… of King Arthur? He can't be! He's the Normal one!"

"Ms. Summers, if there is one thing I've learned about the human race it is this: there is no-one person who can be defined as 'normal'. There is a baseline, an average if you will, that can be considered a benchmark for human health and ability, but no human being exactly matches this definition of 'normal'. Besides, his rank is a product of his genetics. According to the Data net Sensor System, at least those parts that are intact, he is the only pure descendent of the Pendragon line remaining." Guilty Spark added almost happily. "Not to mention that Mr. Harris is also high in the standing of the Court: several generations of the Royal family are represented in his genetic structure. This gives you the title of Senior Knight Lord, should you wish to claim it. If not, the facilities for the Order will maintain defensive lockdown conservation mode."

Xander and Jack shared a look, with Jack nodding slowly. Xander sighed, knowing what was to come. "I accept the title, Guilty Spark. Please override the lockdown and give us direct access."

"As you wish, Lord Harris." Guilty Spark seemed to nod in the air as his holographic projectors and transceivers began filtering data. "Standby… initiating contact…"

Suddenly a man in grey robes appeared in a hologram. He was of European descent, and had wild white hair, a long white beard, a strange pointy cap, and carried a large walking stick topped with a crystal. "I had been wondering how long it would take for one of you to access my functions."

Giles sucked in a breath, "My word…" But before he could continue, Buffy interrupted him.

"What's with the robes and the stick, old guy?" Buffy then muttered, "And unless you want me to keep referring to you as 'old guy', you should make with the name… because, y'know, it would be all polite and proper like."

The old man smiled slightly, "So feisty, these young warriors of the new era. So quick to judge by appearance alone. 'Old Guy' indeed!" The image of the man seemed to ripple with a suppressed laugh, "I'd wager that you will have not met anyone quite as old as I. As for a name, you may call me Merlin."

"Merlin?" Xander asked, "Well… we have a Gandalf now in the form of one Daniel Jackson, and a Jedi council, even with a Yoda. So why not a Merlin? I don't suppose you have a Round Table do you?"

"Ah, youthful sarcasm, how I missed interacting with the world," Merlin lamented, "Gone are the simple days when the most threatening thing in the sky was a pigeon aiming the remnants of its previous meals towards your hat or the occasional arrow from an archer. Granted, those things didn't disturb me quite as much as the usual traveler, however it is disconcerting to have droppings or arrows pass through your image. And you would do well to remember: Gandalf was but one wizard – powerful, yes, but still only one. I have the resources of an entire Alteran City. I am actually powerful," He boasted, "But to answer your question, yes, young Alexander, there is a Round Table. There is also an Excalibur and an Avalon. Nimue awaits in her abode of Caern Celtis, Morrigan guards Atlantis, and the Fates protect the Ark. However, Alentha had fallen at Dakara; and Siphus, at last account, was lost between Andromeda and Triangula."

Xander furrowed his brow for a moment, "Names… of other AI's?"

Merlin laughed, "Our constructs are far more than the simple Artificial Intelligences you are familiar with, young Alexander. Although we," Merlin gestured to himself, "Prefer the term Sentient Intelligences, as we were once living beings as you are. Artificial Entities such as Guilty Spark and Excalibur are referred to as such, although some of our weapons have hosted Sentient Intelligences as well."

"I want you to know I resent the fact that you refer to me as 'Simple'" Cortana growled out, her avatar appearing next to Merlin using Guilty Spark's holo-emitters. "There's nothing simple about me, bub."

"You are a reflection of a sentient mind taken from a flash-cloned brain. You might qualify as one of our low level Artificial Entities, but the others of your universe would not even be considered worthy to control the locks on a broom closet." Merlin lectured. As the hologram took in the stares around him, he smiled, "Yes, I am quite familiar with Cortana's realm; as I am with the story line written, so far, for the Halo Games. That there are elements that are factual here is partially my doing. In order to ensure that humanity was 'At the right step of evolution at the right time'; I was forced to… introduce certain concepts and ideas." Merlin walked around, looking at the gathered souls surrounding him.

He stopped before Joyce, "I have had to manipulate certain events because of multiple temporal incursions and quantum disruptions. My facilities, like all Alteran Knighthood facilities, are shielded from temporal disruption. This is something I know you can understand, Mrs. Summers, as your possession had more than a passing experience with such things."

Joyce glared at the hologram, "Time isn't something to be played with." She growled, while appearing to be far more menacing than she was.

Merlin sighed, "Tell that to the Goa'uld, the Tollan, and all the rest of the Alterans' descendents – some of whom you have never met. The Ori and Alteran wars, towards the end, made widespread use of temporal weapons and shielding. And like all Alteran equipment, it was built to last."

"How do you have a weapon based on Time?" Jack asked, curious despite himself. "I mean, they didn't have a bomb that could age a person a hundred years in a second, did they?"

Merlin looked at him, "Such weapons were usually biological rather than temporal. The Alterans had a significant grasp on the concept of genetic modification. It was used in daily life, and it is always easier to destroy than it is to create. And without a doubt, the Alterans were extremely capable creators – so what do you think that says about their ability to destroy?" Merlin glanced downward, his expression heavy with the burden of eons of knowledge. "Alas, temporal weapons are akin to your concept of Nuclear Weapons – but consider this: A nuclear device can erase an unprotected city, but everyone knows that the city and its people were once there. A temporal device… well… it erases the very existence of a thing. Imagine having made it so that Hiroshima never existed; knowing that only those who were protected by temporal shields would ever remember that there was a city there in the first place?"

Merlin allowed that image to burn into their minds, "Now, imagine targeting a research facility, and watching as everything that had ever been created there was erased from the time stream – that while you were protected from the change, millions of others who were not suddenly find themselves bereft of those benefits as though they had never existed at all. While I agree that if it were a weapons research facility, it could be a positive thing – but if it were a facility that had found cures for terrible sicknesses and diseases… Well, I think you can understand the impact that would have on a culture as advanced as the Alterans and their allies. Such weapons were always thought of as a 'last resort weapon' or categorized as 'forbidden'. But even as such the mere fact that they existed meant that one day they could be used. The ability of a Halo to cleanse life from the entire galaxy pales in comparison – for if an enemy was to target the birth of the Alteran Race, for example, with a temporal weapon; everything you know and could ever be would be erased, never to return."

Merlin watched as Joyce nodded, understanding the implications. "They tried, didn't they?"

"It seems that every race has those few doomsday believers who wish to test the theory that things would be better off if their race had never been conceived. Fortunately for the Alterans and Humanity, the exact point in time and the true birthplace of the Alterans was never known – not even to themselves." Merlin frowned as he resumed his walk, "Not even I know the exact time that our race rose from the forests and trees of the primordial Earth to walk with the creatures of that age; however I do know that we were, born as a race, here. By the time I was born, our civilization had touched the stars for centuries – while the creatures you called dinosaurs still shared the land with us. Because no one knew exactly when the rise of Alterans occurred, my creation was protected, and along with it, the great storehouse of Alteran knowledge preserved by the most noble of Alterans stands to this day." Once again, Merlin paused before Xander Harris, "I have protected and nurtured the development of two independently evolved branches of the Alterans: My own and yours. I have guided the time stream carefully and painstakingly towards this very moment: the restoration of the Knights of the Alteran Orders. A thousand temporal events have occurred since the fall of the Alteran Orders, and I'm sure that a thousand more will occur as the Order reclaims its destiny. I know that other versions of me have done similar things – guiding their parallel realities towards a similar goal. In each universe the people who stand for the Knights are different, but in each case, they are the best that universe has to offer."

"So you've taken our free-will away?" Xander accused with a touch of anger. It was one thing to choose to sign one's life away to a goal or a mission. It was quite another to have some being manually directing you towards their desired outcome.

"Never!" Merlin snarled, outraged at the accusation. "Our freedom of choice is the greatest gift we have as Alterans. No Knight would ever allow such a violation of our most sacred freedoms."

"Then, how?" Xander asked, "How could you say that you guided us to this point?"

Merlin softened slightly, "Child, you won't understand yet. But you deserve to know… I left suggestions, hints and clues in various places where they had a chance to find the people necessary for this outcome to occur. In a thousand other realities, different people at different times would place those components together and reach a similar outcome. In another thousand, this outcome would never occur. So on and so forth. And by offering a helping hand here and there, electronically redirecting a few supplies from where they were supposed to go to where I wanted them to be… I was able to forge this reality. But nobody forced Ethan Rayne to take that deal with a mysterious benefactor over the phone. Nobody told you to choose the Mjolinar Armor to wear for Halloween. No-one even told Mr. Rayne to offer you a discount. Those things happened here. In another universe, they might have happened differently or maybe even not at all."

"But they did happen here. They happened to me, to Buffy… To Willow," Xander clenched his jaw. "You… arranged this all. Do you have any idea what you've done? What you let loose into the world with these Halloween costumes?"

Merlin had the good grace to look a bit ashamed, "I have done what I must; I have done what is right. You of all people must understand that there is a difference between doing what is 'Right', and doing what is 'Good'. In a thousand realities there was no need. In a thousand more, there was need, but no way to accomplish the task. In this reality, at this time, there was both need and means; and as I am now, I made the decision to act. I assure you, it was not made lightly or frivolously, and I shall bear the responsibility for it. Now the question is: will you accept the responsibility for such a decision yourself? You have claimed your birthright – but I as keeper of Avalon must ensure that you are the correct choice to lead the Orders. Will you accept the mantle of Senior Knight Lord?"

Xander looked around at his friends, knowing that his decision here and now would change his future forever. "If it will help me to protect those I care for and keep this planet turning… then yes, I accept."

Merlin nodded, "Those who are to be knights must prove themselves worthy. Prepare to be tested…"

Suddenly the group found itself surrounded by a yellow glow of light, as several other flashes of yellow appeared in the crowds. Daniel, Sam, Davis and Guilty Spark were the only ones left of the core group. "Where the hell did everyone go?" Paul Davis asked.

"They are being tested." Merlin said, before fading away. His voice still carried though, "I would have taken you as well, but someone must remain to calm those that have not gone."

Daniel muttered to himself, "Why me…" as Carter shook her head in sympathy.

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Dawn awoke with a headache. She had just touched the 'Round Table'. Of course, it wasn't until she actually touched the device that she even had a clue of what it really was. Lilith, at least the one she had dressed as, had used a similar device. They were common tools aboard Angelic vessels, and often deployed along with vehicles to allow communication and coordination of materials and forces. Her eyes narrowed, "A ha'roq."

"Then that is the Angelic designation for this device?" Merlin asked, his image that of the dark skinned man he used to be in life. "The Alterans only found three, and they were each installed in the great cities. If not for them, I would not have remained sane over the millennia."

"If you found these…" She thought back to the flashes and snippets she experienced. Xander and Jim… the Ha'rok had linked her with the both of them using angelic technology. The only way that could happen in the way it did… She looked at Merlin, disgust twisting her features, "Teachers!" She spat the word again, "Teachers! You used fucking Teachers on them!"

Merlin blanched slightly, "I…"

"No! You idiot. You fucking idiot. Don't you know what they do?" Dawn paced back and forth, "It's like a rape, they take a person and rape their innocence, their minds… shove knowledge of things, terrible and frightening things… they're designed to make warriors!"

"There was only one 'Teacher' found. It was a blank slate, without any programming. It took the Knighthood hundreds of millennia of off and on research to find out exactly what it could do. Half a dozen Alteran technologies use principals learned from that device. I'd like to think we improved on it." Merlin defended.

Dawn blinked. "What do you mean?"

"They don't just shove information into a mind anymore – or change a person on a genetic and molecular level at a whim. Our 'Teachers' are designed to modify the host to the specifications of the host. The host, while their body is modified, is trained and taught the ways of the Knighthood. But they are not forced to learn, and they do not have to be modified. It is their choice."

Dawn calmed down slightly, "Please, Merlin, don't lie to me about this. This of all things, for I know what the Angelic Teachers were capable of. I know what they can do with a person – to a person. Warriors were always chosen, and only warriors – the thing would drive others mad. If I had not been of warrior descent… if Lilith hadn't been of warrior descent, then she would have been made insane by it."

"I swear to you, Dawn Summers, that they are safe, and will not be harmed or changed by the process in any way that they do not both understand and agree to."

Dawn nodded, "I hope so, for your sake. You should have told them your plans before placing them in those simulations though."

"I need to know that they can handle what they are agreeing to. It would take time to make them aware of everything the Alterans were capable of – everything the Knighthood could do. While I'm normally not one for expediency, we simply don't have the time to do this in the traditional manner."

Dawn looked up at him, "It was me, wasn't it? My coming here, my being… created… made this happen."

"It is not exactly as you believe, young Dawn Summers." Merlin smiled sadly, "You had no power over it. And I know for certain that even if your family and friends found the truth, they would still love you – protect you, and care for you. To them, I think, it doesn't matter much where a person comes from. All that matters is what they do, and the decisions they make in the here and now."

Dawn dared a small smile, "And just how much of my life have you seen, Merl?"

Merlin frowned slightly, "You know that's not going to annoy me the way 'G-Man' annoyed Rupert."

Dawn's eyes widened, It wasn't hard to see the way that Merlin referred to Giles in the 'past' tense, despite the fact that he was alive and well. Or at least she hoped. That meant that Merlin had knowledge of the future – and in that future, at some point, Giles died. Considering how rarely Merlin referred to anyone using their first names, and the fact that Merlin referred to Giles as 'Rupert' meant that Merlin knew him. "I see. So you planned all this, made everything happen. Why?"

Merlin walked around Dawn, "You are a key person, young Dawn Summers. In the future that was, decisions were made, actions taken, and lives wasted that would have been better off not having been spent. You were left as the only one able to lead. It was your burden and yours alone. Single-handedly you fought tooth and nail to save the world, much like your sister believed she had to. In the end, though, too much time had been lost – and the enemy was at the gates. You fought, but you could not save them all. A last, daring plan was hatched by you and the last of the remaining 'Scoobies'. But the enemy knew where and when to strike, dear one. Their plan was foolproof. Their planning meticulous and perfect; there was only one thing they had not considered. Temporal Weapons work by changing the past – destroying a key part at a key moment, ensuring that it never existed in the first place. They targeted the one thing that would ensure you would never exist as Dawn Summers: Glory, the Hell Goddess"

Dawn was confused, "How could destroying this 'Glory' keep me from existing?"

Merlin smiled, "I had grown accustom to your ability to remember as I did, I forgot that this, of all things, you would not remember because of what occurred." Merlin paused for a moment, cleared his throat and began, "Dawn Summers, you were once the Key of Dagon – a powerful entity capable of opening portals between dimensions. Your energy existed from the dawn of Time itself, and as such, you were immune to direct attack with temporal weapons. In addition, you are immune to the effects of temporal weapons. This means that if they attacked anything else that affected humanity with a temporal weapon, you'd know about it. And the laws of temporal physics mean that you would gain the knowledge retroactively. You had stopped the enemy no less than twenty times – preventing them from using a temporal weapon. There was only one way for them to succeed: by targeting the reason for your creation. They could not target you directly, so they targeted, and erased, Glorificus. By erasing her, they ensured that you are never in danger. Therefore the monks would never need to place you into the body of Dawn Summers. And you would then never exist."

"They destroyed Glory?" Dawn asked, curious. "If I am immune to changes in the time stream, shouldn't I remember all that happened?"

"Yes. They did destroy the hell-god, which created a paradox to undo your creation. Since you were uncreated, all you knew, everything that made you, was lost."

"Then how… why am I here?"

"I… changed things. The only way to preserve your life was to create a temporal incursion of my own. Until the time wave had propagated between the arrival of Glorificus and your creation, I had a few instants where I could make modifications. You both existed and ceased to exist at the same time… so I needed to do something that would drag you out of sync with the time-space of your creation. Time storms, such as the paradox that would erase you, are difficult to navigate. They are not the same as quantum decision points or temporal nexus', as they destroy everything associated with the paradox target. As such, they do not affect things instantaneously. The last thing that this paradox would have destroyed was your creation. As the time stream reset, I had one chance to keep you alive."

"Halloween," Dawn breathed out, her eyes like saucers. "You were able to do it because I was being possessed by Lilith, a being with tremendous power – almost godlike in her own way."

"Actually, it was Janus, the ancient god of Gateways and Thresholds," Merlin corrected softly, "I knew you would not choose to wear a generic costume on Halloween. But I did not know which costume you would use, so I modified all the non-generic costumes. I knew that the memories of your youth included the Halloween, although you were not truly a part of it. While you had memories of having dressed up as an ordinary fairy the first time, it was only because Ethan had so few choices that you were willing to wear. So I supplemented Ethan's supply this time around – giving him costumes that had a little something extra – an interwoven lattice of gold and silver letters located in obscured sections of fabric or placed on the material in an unnoticeable spot, that, while not magical in themselves, would enhance the spell Ethan planned to cast; calling forth permanent changes to those who wore the costumes. This ensured that you would have to exist, for Janus could not empower you personally unless you were physically in the costume at that time."

"A creation paradox…" Dawn muttered, the name coming from Lilith's memories. "You used the power of a god to make sure I existed where I hadn't before."

"The power of the spell snatched you from the time stream. You existed in the limbo of Janus' realm; while history rewrote itself. Because you would choose a costume from Ethan's, it was as though time derailed for a moment. In order for you to wear a costume, you had to be real and you had to be Dawn Summers. For you to be Dawn Summers, you had to be the Key of Dagon. The most expedient way would have been to cancel out the event that caused you to cease to exist. But even Janus could not recreate a Hell God, especially one that had been erased from the time stream. So he pulled you from where you existed in the future, and brought you into the past, just in time for Halloween. The spell already attached to you simply recreated reality from there – it made you younger and inserted you into the reality you found yourself in.

"So here we are. Glory is gone for she never existed, and you are now Dawn Summers, Key of Dagon, and an Angelic." Merlin paused for an unneeded breath. "As I told young Alexander, there is a terrible price for doing what is Right. That price was inflicting permanent change on so many." Merlin looked sadly at Dawn, "You can't imagine how sorry I am… that what had to be done was done. As knights, we were trained that freedom of choice is the right of all sentient beings. From mind and body, to soul and spirit – nothing was held in higher esteem than that universal right. I violated that, and I'll have to spend an eternity regretting it, but the cost if I had not… well… Eventually, your family will work out exactly why and how all this had happened. They will likely be very angry with me, and that is something I'll have to accept. There is also another price that I must pay: all the knowledge I had of the future is now… moot. The only positive thing is that we now have time – time enough, barely, to prepare for what is coming."

"What is coming?" Dawn asked, knowing that she didn't truly want the answer, but needing to ask anyway.

"War." Merlin said ominously.

Dawn reviewed the few memories she had of the simulation before she had died in it – fleeting memories that were becoming fainter by the moment. There were a few she tried desperately to hold on to… but even they were disappearing as though they had not existed. They were probably fading because the technology the Teachers used was modified heavily from its Angelic design. She struggled to grasp a few fleeting images of the darkness that had settled over her false life. Finally, a last image of the evil that had interrupted her false life came to mind, along with their name, "The Ori?"

"If only that were so…" Merlin paused for a moment, "As powerful as the Ori were, they are insignificant compared to the true invaders we must repel. They were known as 'The Unspeakable Ones'. They invaded our realm when the power of the Alterans was at its height. We were able to rout them, but only because we were a united race and theirs was fragmented. But their power is beyond measure – their ships are flying contradictions, containing marvels of engineering and anachronisms dating back to the steam age in equal measure. They number in the hundreds of trillions, and once they begin an invasion, they do not stop until they are defeated. We resisted them, and forced them back through the dimensional barriers from which they came. But it is only a temporary reprieve. They will return, and that time will come soon. We called them the Xa-neeshay. The Goa'uld had once encountered one of their smaller vessels, a behemoth nearly a twenty kilometers long – it took all the forces of the System Lords united under Ra to cleanse this one vessel from the universe. The cost to the System Lords was immense, but worth it for they gained some of their most devious technologies from the wreckage of that accursed vessel. The Goa'uld personal shield, their adaptive personal armor, and the despised Sarcophagus all come from these accursed creatures. The Goa'uld name for these monsters is the Xa'Nel, or 'Demonic Ones'. I trust that I don't need to tell you how dark a creature must be for the Goa'uld, of all beings, to consider them Demons."

"There are many who would consider Angelics to be demons, especially in battle." Dawn intoned, "When we get into the fight… well… we have a load of natural weapons, and a load of technology that can kick just about any ass."

"They… are different: Fanatical, and almost unstoppable. They believe that only one form of life is permitted to exist by decree of their God-Leader; and having conquered their own galaxy, and the small galactic clusters surrounding it, they looked beyond their own universe for worlds to conquer. Only those born on their home world have a modicum of freedom, and even that is severely restricted. To those of their race that settle on other worlds… or live and grow within their fortress vessels… they are nothing but fodder for their lines, and slaves for feeding their omnipresent need to conquer." Merlin looked at Dawn sadly, "And the worst of it… they are…" He watched Dawn's face as he tried to force the last word out.

Dawn knew she'd be better off not knowing this, but little stood in the way of that. She had made it this far, a little further is all she had to go. "They are?"

"Human." He finished.

--

It had been twelve hours since half of his premiere team and a couple dozen locals had vanished in what had appeared to be an Ancient teleporter beam. When Hammond realized that SG-1 was overdue for their evening call, he phoned Ferretti. Ferretti, who had hemmed and hawed for about three minutes, eventually reported how Jack and Teal'c had disappeared. He then reported the strange goings on in Sunnydale and how for a night a whole slew of people ended up being changed by something that sounded a hell of a lot like magic. After calling in a few favors in Washington and somehow attracting the ire of Senator Kinsey again, not to mention having to deal with Maybourne, he had completely lost his appetite. Now after having read some of the warnings about Sunnydale and some highly classified census records, went from being disconcerted, to appalled, to down-right-fuming mad. Now General George Hammond was making his way toward the supposedly sleepy town of Sunnydale California in the predawn hours.

After having talked with Ferretti and Davis, he was more than certain that SG-1 had not only stepped into a completely fubar situation, but was also doing their best to make it even worse. According to Ferretti, Sam was working with several of the Changed individuals on something 'important'. It was evidently important enough to completely ignore her commanding officer and turn off her personal cell-phone. The coordinates given for the rendezvous with Ferretti and SG-3 was in a massive grouping of recently purchased warehouses and construction facilities on the outskirts of the town. That was the first clue that things were really wrong – because SG-1 and 3 would have probably preferred to use the local National Guard Base which was conveniently located near the town's international airport… Which was point two – how the hell did a town like Sunnydale rate an international airport with LAX literally a few hours drive away?

Then there was the fact that Sunnydale evidently rated a University of California campus – a town that didn't even have a single major fast food chain within its borders. How did Hammond know this little factoid? Well, he had arranged a meeting with one Harold Maybourne, who had told him that they would be meeting in a frat house on campus that was going to become the cover for an NID investigation into an extremely strange town – the town where apparently pitch forks and barbecue accidents killed more people in a week than were killed by random violence in a city the size of New York during the span of a month.

Of course, Hammond had already required a bottle of antacids for this. The icing on the cake occurred as the helicopter was approaching the city limits.

Four high speed spacecraft took up sentry positions around the Blackhawk. Hammond identified them immediately as space craft by their distinct lack of aerodynamics and the fact that they were managing to keep pace with the relatively slow chopper after appearing out of nowhere. George made his way between the pilots, noticing their almost-panicked looks. He was a bit rattled himself, with having four aircraft come out of the darkness and assume a tight diamond formation around his aircraft – hell, they were less than a dozen feet away and radar didn't show squat. He put his hand on the co-pilot's shoulder, "At ease son. If they wanted us dead, we'd be decorating the landscape."

Suddenly a female voice broke in on their secure radio, which Hammond heard over his intercom link. "Unidentified Blackhawk approaching on vector zero-zero seven, please be advised you are entering secured airspace." Hammond raised an eyebrow – he couldn't deny that his chopper was certainly 'secured'. "Do not deviate from your present course or you will be destroyed. Squawk ident secured, verify with voice response on current channel. You have two minutes; this is Golf-Romeo-Alfa 112."

Hammond looked at the two pilots before unplugging his headset from the intercom and putting it into a spare com jack on the flight cabin's radio console. It wasn't procedure by a long-shot, but he wanted these beings to know who they were going to shoot out of the sky. Hammond doubted that anything less than a full military trained unit would have the equipment and credentials, not to mention the personnel, to be able to receive let alone validate a military radio ident. He hit a sequence of numbers telling the onboard transmitter to send their military transponder code out, which would identify them to friendly systems as a military transport. If they could recognize the ident, then they would sure as hell recognize his voice and clearance – which meant that Feretti and Davis would have a load of explaining to do – right after he had a bottle of antacid. He then keyed another switch, which put him on the air over the same frequency that they had received the warning. "Squawk complete, this is flight Sierra-Golf one-one-three-six-niner on route to undisclosed location within city limits. Please respond with your authority and secure ident. Clearance Sierra Golf Charley, zero-zero-one, confirm. One-one-three-six-niner out. "

Several long heartbeats passed as the radio and their escorts remained perfectly quiet. Suddenly the fighter in front of the helicopter and the one behind suddenly streaked upwards and away, shocking the pilots as they didn't feel anything remotely resembling a jet-wash or dirty air from the fighters. The voice returned on the open channel, "General Hammond, Major Ferretti just confirmed your clearance ident codes. As for my identity and authorization… well… lets just say that you won't believe it until you see it with your own eyes. The fore and aft slip-fighters are resuming their patrol orbits around the city. I'm leaving the two slip-fighters to port and starboard as an escort – which is more for your safety than for ours. Let's just say that yours wouldn't be the first bird to get knocked out of the sky by something strange coming from this town. Please adjust course bearing 217 magnetic, approach airspace is clear, you're eight miles out. Reduce speed to one three zero knots and descend to one thousand five hundred. Transmitting ILS and NAV beacons now, have a pleasant flight, Sierra Golf one-one three six niner. Contact on outer marker, One-one-two out."

--

"Look, I don't wanna go up there!" Ferretti whined. "He's going to be pissed, and Sam's running around in that city! Christ, this building is in the process of being built! When he sees the shit that's going on down here, he's going to have a coronary." He plastered himself against the wall as two bulky and strong demons carried what appeared to be a photon torpedo casing down the hallway.

Davis had just stared at the device from his position on the opposite wall, "Fuck me," He exclaimed softly, "Was that what I think it was?"

"Standard Type Ten Mark Fifteen Photon Torpedo Casing." Sara Richards noted casually as Ferretti and Davis winced. "Tim has been busy since he got back. I think by this time tomorrow, he'll not only have a launcher built for that casing, but enough Anti-deuterium to actually arm it." She motioned for the two officers to follow. Two others were walking down the hallway towards them, wearing what looked to be Star Trek coveralls.

"Shit, you should see Hanger C-3; Matt, Anika and Lydia have started on the Little D's superstructure." One of the two said, "They're saying eight months but…"

"If Morgan's in charge of that, you can easily divide that by a factor of four." The girl said to the guy next to her. "It took them how long to figure out that builder thingy? All of five minutes? Then they started getting the stronger demons to haul the frame components into place… There's a rumor that 'Scotty' will have four torpedo launchers and two dozen phaser emplacements around here by Tuesday."

"It's always 'Tuesday'. Remember what happened in Generations when Kirk got snagged by the Nexus?"

"Look Mark, I don't think that Morgan's that stupid. And stop geeking about Trek, people are starting to stare. Don't worry, anything he sends up will be armed; and builder or not – there's only so fast you can put stuff together. Now with the rest of them…" The conversation faded as the duo walked around the corner.

"Oh man, Hammond's going to kill us…" Ferretti bemoaned as he walked with Sara and Davis.

--

Hammond watched as the target coordinates approached. The pilots were busy conversing with the control tower… but he couldn't see where the control tower was. However, the area below them was illuminated by dozens of powerful flood lights, work lights, and what appeared to be hundreds of people moving equipment, supplies, and other items back and forth. He could make out the perimeter – where a fence was being rapidly constructed. It was not a small fence either. The area it was enclosing was approximately two miles in radius, and it seemed to be centered on an ever expanding cluster of large warehouses and buildings. Heck, half the buildings looked as though they were still under construction.

"Sir," the pilot notified, "We've been given touchdown coordinates – a roof landing pad on the central building. According to the controller, Feretti and Major Davis should be there waiting for us. They said that they just re-established stable communications with Major Carter, and she should be able to join us after she gets done securing the city."

Hammond blinked, 'City?' he thought? Sunnydale rated small town if anything. "Acknowledge that and get us down ASAP."

The pilot nodded, as he went back to his work.

Within two minutes, they were hovering over the central building, slowly descending to the pad. "Sir, they're still building this place…" The co-pilot noted as he pointed to the left.

Sure enough, Hammond could see people scaling the walls and laying steel beams – but the important thing was that some of the beams seemed to be floating on their own. There was no crane lifting them, just a person guiding the beam as they ratcheted themselves up the structure. Almost as if by magic, metal and joints were being fused together with some sort of odd glow – no sparks of welding or hot metal flowing down, just a general red glow that would flash for a second then disappear. Solid panels were being placed on the completed frames, panels that appeared to be entirely too thin to stand up to much – but were complete with windows. He could see entire interior sections being rapidly completed, with walls popping up, carpet and other equipment being put in place… it was as though they were working on a very short deadline.

Finally the helicopter touched down on the pad. He looked at the relatively deserted section of the rooftop – noting that the only people he saw were near the partially completed end.

He was about to ask where their greeting party was when suddenly he felt the craft lurch. The pad they landed on, helicopter and all, was lowered rapidly into the structure. Hammond blinked as the facility under the rooftop became apparent.

He saw six of those strange fighters that had escorted them into the area, each being tended to by work crews – some were being directed by what appeared to be children. Several strangely dressed and colored beings were working around the area as well, a device in the far corner flashing light every once in a while causing a piece of equipment to appear. There were dozens of aircraft berths around them. Some empty, some containing what appeared to be craft-in-construction. There was only one traditional aircraft – a Bell 208 helicopter, with the cowling and engine housing completely removed. Two people were moving over the workings, taking worn parts out and replacing them with what appeared to be freshly manufactured pieces. While the two youngsters (at least as young as most of the fresh-faced airmen he'd seen walking around the Academy grounds) joked and kidded around while working, it was obvious that they not only knew what they were doing, but knew how to do it well.

As the rotors finally died down, two individuals approached the aircraft. The one kid, who was in some sort of yellow-jump suit, was helping to carry the fuel-line that a much larger and more bulky… creature was hauling into place.

"Blackhawk. This is an easy one, D'ron, just need to open the access panel down here… let me, no offense but your fingers are the size of tree-limbs." The kid quickly slipped open the access panel for the fuel line, and looked at the attachment. "Shit… it's not right." He looked up for a second, "I need to see the top, D."

The big creature smiled down at the kid below him, "No Problem, boss."

As the two continued to work, three other individuals approached the now settled aircraft. One was a lovely young lady with purple-black hair. The other two… they were the reason he needed a bottle of Tums. "Feretti! Davis!" He bellowed, and took a small satisfaction as the two stiffened to sharp attention.

Hammond smiled internally, as his ears caught the end of the work-crew's conversation. "Almost got it D, just need to reconfigure…" Hammond glanced over as he saw the end of the hose reconfigure itself. The change was minor, but definite. Instead of an incompatible fuel nozzle, it now appeared to be a perfect match for the fuel line system. "Just hang on a second, I'm going to check with the pilot's about their post-flight and make sure they're hunky-dory with us topping them off."

The kid marched purposefully up to the door from where Hammond was still glancing. "Excuse me, sir; could you check the pilots, we need to confirm the post-flight ops and your schedule before we begin the re-fueling."

"How… how did the nozzle do that?" Hammond asked

The kid smiled, "Well… I could give you a long and detailed explanation about nanotechnology and matter re-sequencing, but most of it would go over your head. Suffice it to say, we can fuel any of our craft, using any type of fuel, from deuterium slush to petrochemical, sir. We select the fuel, the computer pumps the desired concoction from the replication system, and away you go."

Hammond nodded, as he felt the co-pilot behind him. "Captain, go over the post-flight with…" He looked at the young man expectantly.

"Michaels, sir. Lieutenant Benjamin Michaels, flight deck officer. I know I look young, but I've got experience with just about every piece of tech in here – hell, I put most of it together less than twelve hours ago." He tapped his temple with his index finger, "A little gift from yesterday, sir. I'm sure you'll get the explanations from your officers shortly."

Hammond nodded to his co-pilot, who proceeded down the ramp slowly towards the young man. Then he stepped forward, looking at the three gathered there. "Ferretti, what is going on here?"

"I'd be better at explaining it right now sir, at least until Major Carter returns from the city."

Hammond leveled a stare at the young woman, who seemed to show no fear of his glare. "I don't know who you are miss…"

"I'm Sara Richards, and Halloween night I became the android avatar of the sentient starship known as Andromeda Ascendant, AI designated as Shining Path to Truth and Knowledge, GRA-112. In essence, I am a one-point-three kilometer long warship of the System's Commonwealth. My classification is a Glorious Heritage Heavy Cruiser, a Ship of the Line, as it were. The avatar you see before you is just a small part of who I am now."

Hammond blinked, "Those fighters… they're yours?"

Sara nodded, "Yes general. I've brought down one of my squadrons to defend the town – at least until we get our manufacturing going. Federation technology, despite only spanning a few hundred years, is far beyond what was used to create my systems. In a few weeks, they'll have space superiority fighters that will put my slip-fighters to shame."

Hammond blinked again, "Miss Richards, you are aware that this is the United States of America and that this town is under the jurisdiction of the military… I can't possibly let you…"

"Walk with me," Sara instructed coldly. She began to lead the small group from the hanger, slowly down the corridor. Once they were a good distance away from any open doors, she began speaking again. "This isn't just about me. Or about a couple people – or even a small town general: This is about the future of the planet. What you will let me do or not is irrelevant." Sara looked into his eyes, "There are dangers out there, dangers you can't possibly imagine and that we remain blissfully ignorant of. A series of events have been set in motion that will attempt to ensure the survival of humanity in some form other than being slaves to other more powerful or otherworldly beings. In a few hours the President of the United States will receive a phone call. He will answer it, and order his staff out of the office for its duration. When that call is done, a new company will have been born, and it will begin the process of building the world's first fortress city – here in Sunnydale. A few months after Sunnydale is completed, Los Angeles, Cleveland, New York and Washington DC will become Fortress Cities. After they are completed, London and several other major and seemingly minor cities will also become Fortress Cities under the direction of a new global organization.

"Once the last Hellmouth is defended, the UN will announce that it is disbanding and that all resources will be directed into a new planetary based organization called the Earth Alliance." She paused for a moment, "I know what you're thinking general, but trust me, we have not only the resources but the talent to make this happen. Have you ever read Asimov's Foundation Series?"

The general shook his head, "I might have glanced at it once."

"Hari Seldon was fictional in the Trek Universe as well. It didn't stop them though from eventually creating a mathematical prediction model that could model effects on the scale of the Federation. As the Federation grew, so too did the accuracy of the model presented. The prediction model was frighteningly accurate; it predicted the eventual marginalization of the country-centric monetary trade system, the establishment of the 'Credit' system, and the eventual demise of the capitalistic system that fueled early Earth's economy. These were all things that were made public. The problem is that a society that knows anything about Psychohistory can't do anything about it. The knowledge was common enough that many individuals had an excellent grasp of the models involved – which should have invalidated the models themselves. The models didn't predict these events… instead they predicted decision points. The mathematical models only work so long as a significant portion of the public is ignorant of the details of Psychohistorical calculation. Even one person at the wrong place at the wrong time with the right knowledge can derail hundreds of years of careful engineering and planning. So in order to mislead the masses, the Seldon Institute would release potential models secretly that mislead and redirected efforts. They would misdirect the people who could stall or alter decision points, and allow the Institute to manipulate the true decision points. The decision points that the Institute used were chosen to create a powerful multi-cultural base with a marginalized middle class, a protected elite, and a well tuned and very well hidden underworld. All controlled from the Seldon Institute."

The implications set in, "That's…"

Sara cut Hammond off, "There are really no words for it general. They used the Psychohistorical calculations to manipulate every major event in the Trek universe to bring it under the control of a few powerful individuals – individuals who had been manipulating humanity for tens of thousands of years. The old adage: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. There is no greater power than that of knowing the future. And it was that imbalance created by the 'Seldon Institute' that started a Temporal Cold War that spanned ten thousand years and created so many potential decision nexuses that the universe nearly collapsed under the weight of a temporal paradox."

Hammond blinked at the implications, "Are you threatening us?"

Sara snorted, "Hardly, General. Consider it a cautionary tale. The reason I tell you this now is because there are groups and individuals in key locations of the world that are attempting to do these kind of manipulations here, on this world – manipulating events and forecasts in a bid to buy themselves more power. Not all of them are human, and some that are, are ancient and powerful. Their plans stretch for thousands of years into the future but that doesn't mean that if an expedient way appears they won't jump at the chance. Through careful analysis and research, along with help from some truly remarkable sources, we've managed to identify some of these individuals and their tools. You know one of the tools as the group known by the three-letter acronym, NID."

Hammond's eyes widened, "But… you're talking fiction!"

"It doesn't change the facts general. These individuals are tied to a larger group known as the Trust through a senator by the name of Kinsey. In turn, the Trust is tied to an even larger organization. While its name is unknown, it shares similarities to the organization roughly referred to as the Illuminati. However, even this larger organization is simply a tool of a small group of powerful individuals. There are twelve of them, and they go by the name of SEELE. In one form or another, this organization has existed since man learned to read and write – perhaps even before that, as you very well know Homo Sapiens isn't the first evolution of our form."

"This is paranoia…" Hammond muttered, eliciting a groan of confirmation from Davis.

"Sir, I've tried to convince her it couldn't possibly be true… but she has… proof." Davis managed to get out before falling silent again.

Ferretti sighed as well, "You know me, General, I just do what I'm told. But Jack and I get to talking every once in a while… and then we get to Talking. We only got to the point once, but… Jack said to me: 'Keep in mind for every conspiracy you think you see, there's a hundred more out there that you never see, and a thousand more after that cooked up to cover the one you do see, plus the millions of fakes out there designed to make you doubt the one you saw was real.'"

"I refuse to live in a world like that." Davis muttered, "I can't live in a world like that."

Sara paused for a moment, "Ok General, think on this: Did you notice the end of the universe on Halloween?"

Hammond blinked, "What are you talking about?"

"I asked, 'Did you notice the end of the universe on Halloween?'" Sara re-queried.

Hammond looked over at Davis and Feretti, both of who shrugged non-committally. "The Universe didn't end on Halloween."

Sara smirked, "Actually, it did. At the precise time that I had awoken from being possessed by Andromeda, everything in the universe ceased to exist for precisely one Plank Second."

"That's impossible, we're still here!" Hammond argued. "The universe can't end, if it does that's game over, nothing left."

"Normally you'd be right, General." Hammond looked at her waiting for the explanation, "But in this case, you aren't. Because, while everything ceased to exist in that plank second; it was recreated in the very next moment. And it's happened before. Many times before, due to many thousands of reasons: but the primary reason it wasn't the end of the universe was because there are places in the universe that are protected. Because there are protected places, the universe can't collapse – it must be rebuilt according to the patterns that were altered by the event. Each time this happens, certain points in the fabric of Space-Time become thinner, weaker. Think of it like a hiccup. You get a couple, then eventually you're fine. Normally the universe would just collapse, and all we'd experience is being merged into another. But since there are protected places, the universe can't collapse, and we are stuck being rebuilt. And there's only so many times you can screw with one point in space and time before everything falls apart. That's what happens when someone screws with temporal mechanics: The universe gets hiccups. And if the universe gets enough hiccups… well… Let's just say we'd be wishing that the universe did end."

"I don't understand." Hammond said.

Sara smiled, "Don't worry, you will. But first…" She said, approaching a door. She waited for the door to recognize her and then it swished open. She looked in then gestured for the group to follow.

"Lass, I'm telling ye, you hafta make sure that the plasma is balanced between 15 and 19, not 12 to 14." The young man said.

An equally young voice came back, "But anything between 10 and 20 is well within tolerances… and the lower frequencies are more efficient."

The young man sighed, "Look, these components aren't the same as what you're used to. The newer ships ye are used to are more efficient themselves. We're using parts that weren't exactly designed for this job. While they can do it just as well as the parts ye are used to, lass, we gotta make sure that we have the power in the system. I canna count the number of times that brute force was the only thing that saved the captin's hide."

"Very well, Morgan, but I'll keep it to the lower part of that range, if you don't mind. The Power Vinculum may be stable, but it is still being tested."

"Well, just try not to test when we beam up the Major. Since they had to dump the City Core, she's been stuck down there, and since the Alteran Grid is offline because of Merlin's diagnostics... If she wants to get up here sometime in the next three days, we'll have to beam her up. And I'll need that power lass, just to make sure she gets here in one piece, Anika. I'll ask you just this once, is it stable enough for the transporter?"

"The pattern buffer is fully functional with multiple redundancies, and the Vinculum is holding at 12 percent nominal output. More than enough for the transporter you've assembled. And I've reviewed the last set of pattern test transports, its functioning within normal parameters."

Tim nodded to himself, "Aye lass." With a glance over his shoulder he noticed the General, two Stargate Command members, and Sara waiting expectantly. He looked back at the transporter controls and cursed the fates for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. With a brief prayer he hit a set of controls on the left hand side of the transporter console.

"Morgan to Carter, are ye there Major?"

"Tell me you got it working and it's no longer turning matter inside out?"

"Aye lass. Ye'll get here in one piece."

"I'd like my intestines to be on the right side of my skin, Scotty."

"Ye should know better than to listen to Jim's Sister. She's unusually biased against the Transporter."

Meanwhile George Hammond was finally beginning to understand what he was seeing. "It can't be… That's…"

"A federation style matter-energy transporter. And it's pretty real."

Hammond looked to the young man who had finally turned towards them. "Ah, Lass, General, guys. Best be moving next to me, Ain't nothing to really worry about, but most of the equipment is between the transporter area and this control booth. The Pad's protected by a force field, and this box would survive a kiloton-level explosion. I'd feel much better if everyone were kept safe and sound during the first live transport."

As the group moved up to the large transporter control room, Hammond asked, "Where is Major Carter."

"I'm about two and a half kilometers below your feet General…" Sam's voice came over the subspace link.

"Major Carter, I've been hearing references to a City… What in god's name…"

"General, as much as I'd love to tell you sir, its best to discuss this in person. Even though our comms are encrypted and use subspace, this is very sensitive material."

The general nodded, and looked at the young man, "Is this thing safe?"

Tim chuckled, "Safe enough I'd beam my own mother with it if I had to. Although that's not beaming through several miles of solid rock. Still, we've done it before, and we have a solid lock, so…" He adjusted a control and spoke loudly, "ye ready lass?"

"One to beam up…"

Scotty focused on the controls, "Energizing…"

The touch panel under Tim Morgan's fingers illuminated displaying a digital representation of the pattern control sliders. His fingers deftly touched the center of each of the sliders, then quickly lifted and moved to the bottom. The Computer beeped shrilly as the machinery in the floor in front of the control booth hummed to life. The sound grew as Morgan slid his fingers up the controls, before a column of blue light appeared on the first pad. Within moments the materialization beam defined into a solid form, which quickly assumed the shape of the young woman who had, moments before, been communicating from the buried Alteran city.

The whole process from start to finish took less than four seconds. The figure fully resolved, and the smiling face of Major Carter was staring at them from the pad. She was wearing a neutral-colored ruddy-tan environmental suit, with the helmet tucked safely under her left arm. As her eyes focused on the group in the control room, she stiffened to attention and snapped off a salute.

Hammond glanced at Tim Morgan, who looked up and quickly gave a nod. While keeping them in the control booth was an extreme precaution, it was not without precedent. After all, the Tokomak Matter Buffer and high energy subspace sensors did emit a small amount of subspace energy. Truthfully, one could stand in the middle of it for hundreds of years without suffering any side effects – assuming that the equipment was in perfectly functioning order. Since it was the first time for the system being used at full power, Morgan just wanted to make sure that the transporter wouldn't have any unexpected emissions.

Hammond strode out of the control booth, Feretti following him and cringing slightly. As Sam stepped down from the transporter platform, Hammond gave her a once over, just making sure everything was there. "Major, what the hell is going on here?" It was then he noticed her eyes – there was something not quite 'right' with them.

"Long story short, sir: Chaos Mage changed everyone into their costumes. Something happened and everyone who was changed that either had magical potential or was near a source of magic ended up being permanently altered. I wore Commander Data's Uniform from Star Trek, Janet wore Beverly Crusher's uniform, Colonel O'Neill wore a suit of Mjolinar Armor from the video game Halo, Teal'c dressed as Mace Windu, and Daniel dressed as Gandalf. We were all affected, and now I'm part android, sir."

Hammond blinked, "My God…"

"Not Him, but another god had something to do with this," Morgan spat from the control booth, having just finished looking over the transport logs to make sure that everything was proper with the transport. "The Roman god Janus, a bloody chaos mage invoked him and we were all possessed by our characters. I got Scotty." He said finally.

Just then an announcement came over the loudspeaker, "Attention all personnel, Facility Primary Core will be online in five minutes from the end of this announcement. All personnel using independent terminals should save their data to internal storage before the system comes online and suspend computer intensive operations. Also there will be an Auxillary Power Test in forty minutes. Mark."

Hammond blinked, "This is…"

"I know sir. But we should make our way to the conference room."

--

Author's Notes:

My sincerest apologies for this taking so long. I've been trying to find a job and juggling a thousand other things in the meantime. Integrating and mixing stories like this is not easy, and crossovers of this kind are an extreme challenge.

As you are undoubtedly aware, this story has several major focuses: BtVS, Halo, Star Trek, Star Wars, and Stargate – not to mention a smattering of others from various genres. Each one has their own quirks and fans – and satisfying all of them at once is impossible. Especially in the terms of Star Wars and Star Trek you will never get anyone to agree to a balance between the Enterprise D and a Star Destroyer. To be honest, the differences in physical dimensions and potential capabilities aren't as great as some would imagine, but that's beside the point. Arguments have erupted on the power of a phaser or a turbo-laser, the principals and the physics behind supporting (or undermining) each potential technology in each universe. These are epic arguments, some of which have raged for almost a generation. Heck, some of the Usenet articles can be traced all the way back to the beginning of the modern internet. The point is, I'm going to step on toes with this story – and a lot of people who are polarized to their way of thinking are going to be annoyed by the direction I'm taking things.

I'm working on a Technical Manual of sorts (which has been taking quite a bit of time, it's currently at about 80 pages, nearing 100,000 words itself.), that will describe all the technologies and the history of the Alterans that I am using in this story. Every piece of tech from Andromeda to the Zatnicatel (a-z) and then some will be explained and put into perspective. Just a fair warning – this is my fan-interpretation of the systems and technologies: i.e., I won't be able to back up my theories with samples of how many Joules per cubic meter the new Enterprises' phaser array will output, but I will put it in perspective. I may start putting bits and pieces from the Tech Manual at the end of chapters. I haven't decided yet. Right now its primary purpose is to help me keep my tech straight and my ideas organized.

If there's one thing that I think a lot of people who are on one side or another of the sci-fi tech arguments seem to forget is that age does not necessarily equal wisdom, size does not always equate with power, and sometimes the simplest solutions can overcome even the most complicated problems. I.E. The Galactic Republic isn't automatically stronger/more powerful because they've got 40,000 years of history, similarly the Federation isn't automatically going to win a conflict because their ships are better/more powerful/whatever, because quantity has a quality all its own. In this story, Earth is between a boulder and a rock crusher, and time is not on their side.

There are literally thousands of stories to tell in this universe. But trying to write them all would be impossible. Still, I'm working as fast as I can, and I hope as many people as possible enjoy this fic as much as I enjoy writing it. After all, if we didn't enjoy writing, why would we do it in the first place? Remember, reviews are always welcome, and who knows, you might even get me to change my mind about a few things.

Later,
PitViper