Next chapter, thanks for the reviews. Hope you'll like this chapter too. Have a nice weekend.

Chapter 5: Raptors and Goldwings

A prison was a prison and even if the design was different on every planet, there was always one constant. Bars. Why did it always have to be bars? A universe full of bars, that would be worth a little research and an essay, Daniel mused and was reminded of the fact, that it was very possible that he'd never get the chance to publish a paper again. Because he could be dead soon. Executed as a terrorist on a planet whose name he didn't recognize and even worse, a planet his friends at the SGC didn't know of. It seemed, that no one would come to the rescue this time. This could really be the end. But he fought against this certainty. After all, they were still SG-1, albeit only one half of it. They just needed a masterstroke, a sudden inspiration, a flash of genius. Whatever, but they had to hurry.

He grabbed the bars and watched their guard. The man hadn't moved for some time now. He sat behind his desk, staring at a screen –a TV?- embedded in the wall. He was totally focused on some sports program. Well trained men and women with all kinds of protective clothing, throwing a little ball around and aiming at a small hole. That was culturally interesting, too. Every planet, every culture he'd ever visited had a, sometimes highly ritualized, ball game. Daniel had never been interested in sports. Neither in participating nor in watching, but the excitement some people could muster for this pastime still astonished him.

The similarities between his home and this planet still baffled him, but Daniel had decided that it was best to ignore it for now and instead concentrate on coming upon a way out. Jack had always advised them to know your enemy, to gather useful information and planning a counteraction based on said knowledge. But since their guard refused to even acknowledge their presence, he was forced to use other sources. He had tried to learn something from the commercials on the TV-like screen. But ironically, it was like watching television at home. Attractive people advertising drinks in elegant glass bottles. Children dragging their parents through a toy store. Dogs eating their dog food with gusto and a suit clad man in his huge car conquering the pitfalls of morning traffic. This similarity was just so damn confusing, that it was hard to ignore.

When he realized that he couldn't learn anything useful from the television program, he turned away and sat down on the bench beside Sam. If his sense of time was right, they were waiting for almost an hour now. Since they'd been thrown into the cell, Sam had not moved. She was thinking hard, focusing on her thoughts entirely. After so many years of friendship, he recognized if she was lost in thought.

He felt the same. The same questions haunted him, too. Where are we? Why are we here? Why did the Gate malfunction? Are Mitchell and Meyers okay? Is someone coming for us? Are there clues of our whereabouts? How can we prove our innocence? What is this ominous Astral Queen and why are they sending us to a place called Libran? And most importantly, how can we escape death penalty? So many questions and no answers.

Sam and Daniel had spent the first 45 minutes discussing exactly that, but so far they hadn't found a solution. And while they were stuck in here, no one was speaking to them. There was generally no one they could talk to, not even a lawyer. Maybe their only option was to wait and play along. Being cooperative and hoping for a chance to get rid of the terrorism accusation. Or to flee. But where to?

In his head, thoughts whirled fruitlessly in circles. Daniel decided to talk to Sam again. She was highly intelligent and he knew that her mind was running at full speed. Their biggest advantage was her tactical insight, an insight that he couldn't muster, even after long years of working with the military. If anyone could come up with a conclusion right now and in this messy situation, it was her and not him. But then the guard suddenly moved as the sports program was replaced by some sort of alert.

The guard cursed because he missed the team's next move and cleared his throat before he answered.
"This is Walch on level 8, what's up?" he mumbled into the air. Apparently there was some sort of invisible intercom system.
"Hi Ely, the taxi for the prisoners is here. The pilot says to hurry up. He wants to make it to the last quarter." Answered a crackling voice out of nowhere.

Sam and Daniel looked at each other alarmed. This could only be about them. This adventure was turning quickly from an initially misunderstanding to a serious disaster for them. They would be carted away and the trace about their whereabouts would blur more and more. Even if someone came looking for them, this relocation made it almost impossible for their friends and colleagues to take up their trail again. Time was running out for them.

"Okay. They're coming up now." The guard answered. He rose cumbersome and came over to their cell. He was armed. While he opened the bars, his right hand rested threateningly on the gun. Always ready to use it, if they gave him any reason.

But Cater and Jackson wouldn't try anything. They definitely didn't want to be transferred, but provoking a fight wasn't wise, too. As the guard led them through a narrow corridor, they realized again how small their chances for escape were. The hallway was shaped like an A, broad at the floor and acuminated at the ceiling. Sam and Daniel had to walk one after another, because there was not enough space to walk next to each other. So, not nearly enough elbow room to subdue their guard. Or to dodge his bullets. And even if, where to run? They didn't even know if they were still in the same building, in the headquarters of this Global Defense Department.

The guard urgently pushed them towards the open doors of an elevator at the end of the hallway. The man didn't get in the car with them. He simply nodded at them wordlessly, pressed a button outside the elevator and the doors closed automatically. Sam and Daniel noticed that there was no type of display in the car. Apparently, it was operated only from the outside. It was more like a freight elevator, exclusively for the transport of prisoners.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Daniel said as the car started to move upstairs. Sam sighed, she felt the same.
"I don't see a way out." She summarized her thoughts.
Jackson rubbed his tired eyes. Their hands were tied, but in front of them so they had at least some minimal freedom of movement. By now, they both were on the road for more than 20 hours. If everything would've gone smoothly, they would be sitting over coffee in the commissary by now. But it turned out completely different.
"Me neither."
Both held their breath as the elevator stilled and the doors opened slowly. They had no idea what to expect now.

A cool breeze greeted them as soon as the doors opened. Two other guards were already waiting for them, putting heavy hands onto their shoulders and pushing their prisoners forward. They were on the roof of a medium height building, which explained the cold air. While Carter and Jackson were led away, their gazes drifted into the distance. If this was still the Global Defense Department, the building was higher that it looked from street. Although it was by no means one of the tallest around, the view was still revealing.

The city was huge. Daniel had once stood on the observation deck of New York's Rockefeller center and had been impressed by the sheer size of the city. But this topped it all. The city was so huge, that Daniel had to squint his eyes the see the end of it and even then he wasn't so sure that he really could detect the city limit, or if it just was the end of his eyesight. And the skyscrapers were high. He cocked his head back and looked up. In front of him arose an elegant tower, it's spire ending somewhere between the milky clouds. On the streets, cars bustled along like ants on an anthill. Brown city blocks alternated with large green areas, little parks and gardens. Whoever had planned this city, had apparently considered the residents need for recreational areas. It displayed a very good understanding of human needs.

But then something entirely astounding caught both of their attentions. Openmouthed, they stared fascinated into the blue sky. There was not just heavy traffic on the streets, but also in the air. Dozens, no hundreds, of flying objects whizzed overhead. The differently shaped means of transportation flew quietly through the clouds, their paths crossing on invisible routes only the pilots knew.

"My god, do you know what that means?" Daniel whispered and his guard had to push him on, because he stood still, astonishment apparent on his face.
"I know. It's unbelievable." Confirmed Sam beside him.
It was the first time that they'd seen professional passenger traffic in the sky. Never, in almost 10 years of travelling through the Gate, had they met a planet this advanced. Sure, many races had spaceships. But those were mostly for military matters, like troop transports. But such a routinely traffic, it really looked like normal traffic on the roads, they'd never observed before.

It seemed that this people were far more technically advanced that Earth. Eventually, Earth would implement some kind of traffic in the skies too, but it would take them many, many years to do so. But here, it was already standardized.

And even though Sam knew that Daniel and she were about to be condemned to death, she caught herself hoping that they would get the chance to see one of those flying cars from the inside. It fascinated her, woke her interest and curiosity. She'd really like to get her fingers on one of those things, relish taking it apart and understanding how it worked. For such a baby, she'd even take all of her build-up vacation time. And much to her joy, it looked like she'd get her wish.

The two guards grabbed their two prisoners by the shoulders, holding Daniel and Sam in a waiting position. They stood in front of large, octagonal platform looking like a helipad. Again, they stared into the sky. At first, it as just a dot in the distance announcing the arrival of their taxi with a loud roar and the wind of it's engines. Then the dot grew bigger. And bigger. Until they finally stared at the belly of one of those flying machines. It was colored in a metallic grey and the whole size was revealed when the pilot landed the aircraft gently on the platform.

It was about the size of a puddlejumper, but the design was completely different. While the ancient aircraft looked rather clunky and bulky, this one was elegant in it's form. It reminded her of a transport helicopter, a Boeing Apache, but more aerodynamic. Two elegant wings spread at the sides and two stretched up at the rear like spoilers on a race gar. The color was a metallic green, a typical military color. The lateral hatches indicated that this was indeed a military vessel. She'd bet her lunch that these were launch tubes for missiles. Not to mention that Sam had already recognized from the sound of the engine how much power this thing had. She was so sure, that this baby was capable of space flight. Design and the size of the engine supported her conclusion.

Though the tinted windows of the front cockpit, they could see the back of the pilot as he moved around. When the vessel's large side door opened with a hydraulic whoosh, the guards clutched their shoulders even harder, as if they feared that their prisoners would try to escape. One could only wonder, where to? Jump off the roof? Most likely not. Over the years SG-1 had pulled a lot of spectaculars stunts, but contrary to popular beliefs, no one of them was superman. Side by side, Sam and Daniel waited intently to be loaded into the transporter.

The doors of the aircraft opened completely and the pilot jumped lithely first on a wing and then on the platform. He removed his dark aviator sunglasses with an aura practically oozing coolness and nodded casually at the two guards.

Sam and Daniel eyed the pilot from head to toes. When they'd both finished their examinations, Jackson's mouth hung open wide and Carter felt like someone pulled the rug from under her feet. Her heart beat faster and she could hear the blood roaring in her ears. She found it literally hard to believe what her eyes saw. Because right in front of her, dressed in a dark green flight suit and looking very much alive, stood Jack O'Neill.

At first they thought that it was a fata morgana, a hallucination or the unbelievable possibility that there was a guy running around here and looking confusedly similar like their former CO. Her mind struggled against what she knew as final and factual. Jack O'Neill was dead, she'd been forced to see him die herself. And yet, it was him, something inside her told her so. He was standing right there, almost close enough to touch, radiating the almost painfully familiar charisma of complete sovereignty.

They were both too shocked to say something. Instead, they marveled at the presence of the man in front of them and followed his every movement. Searching for a hint that this was a trick.
"Sooo, what do we have here?" he asked the guards and the familiar sarcasm in his voice almost brought tears in Sam's eyes. These last months, she'd given up denying towards herself and her friends, how much she missed him. Above all, his humor. This cocky mix of mischievous rebellion and sharp tongued cynicism. As bad as most of his jokes had been, she'd always found something in them that amused her. She'd always been able to smile, even if she was the only one to do so. Simply because she knew that he did it for them, to cheer them up, not caring that he appeared foolish doing so.

If the guards or the O'Neill double noticed their undisguised perplexity, they did a damn good job of hiding it. The armed man behind Daniel made a disdainfully grunting sound in his throat as he shoved him unceremoniously forward.
"Terror suspects for the Astral Queen. Those assholes have been hiding in the museum in Delphi the whole night." One of the guards summed up his point of view.
Daniel and Sam could practically see how the previously unbiased mood of the pilot changed into something else. He grimaced and small wrinkles appeared at his eyes, surely no laugh lines, that was for sure.
"Frak those terrorists." The Jack-look-alike shot them both a pejorative glance and almost looked as if he wanted to spit at them.

Jackson and Carter swallowed hard. They'd often succeeded in infuriating the Colonel and later General until he cursed, groused or pitied himself, but never had he punished them with such contemptuous eyes. It was a bad sign for the two members of SG-1. So far, they'd met no one who was willing to believe in their innocence, let alone really listen to them. Although they had no clue how it was even possible that their dead friend was standing in front of them, even if Sam already suspected something, it was worth a try to gain this man's trust. He was not a pleasant face, but at least one that they recognized. But if he was already dead set about hating them and if he did not just look and sound like their O'Neill, but was as stubborn too, it would be almost impossible to convince him otherwise.

At least, there was a little, tiny ray of hope. When the guards pushed their prisoners roughly through the hatch of the aircraft, the tall pilot felt the need to intervene.
"Hey, take it easy! Terrorists or not, but I certainly won't deliver them hurt. Got it?" he admonished the guards. Those rolled their eyes, but didn't dare to contradict. Not really friendly, but also not hazarding any injuries, they helped Carter and Jackson inside the aircraft.

One could see at a glance that this thing was not made for passenger transport, but clearly a military vessel. Specialized in recon, if Sam guessed right. The interior was as spartan as possible so that most of the space could be used for all kinds of technical equipment. The front housed two seats and the control console, similar to the puddlejumper. Two big screens were mounted right and left of the pilot's seats. The heck, where Sam and Daniel were forced to sit down on the floor, featured even more screens, including a metal operating desk with a keyboard and a chair in front of it. Sam had seen similar layout in recon aircrafts. There was enough space for two pilots and at least one radar officer, depending on the task.

While guard number one threw them one last gloomy look before disappearing from their field of view, guard two remained standing beside the pilot, handing over not just the suspects but also the keys to their handcuffs. The O'Neill double put the key in his right breast pocket.
"So, they almost belong to you." Began the guard and held a number pad out to the tall pilot.
"I just have to confirm that you are who you're supposed to be. Takes a few seconds, then you can zoom off."

Cater and Jackson looked at each other fleetingly and then focused on the two men in front of the hatch. With a little bit of luck, they would get to know if the pilot's name was Jack O'Neill too, and if it really was, there was no doubt about what had happened to them. The pilot typed a code on the pad and gave it back to the guard. It took maybe three, four seconds before the armed man nodded.
"Congratulations, you really are Major Jonathan O'Neill."
"With two L's, just so you know." Stressed this O'Neill the special variation in his name while he signed an electronic document.

The two men exchanged a few more words, but the prisoners completely missed the point. Once the name was confirmed, it felt as if lightings raged in their brains. Their minds tried to process what they had heard and what was certainty, a fact that they couldn't deny any longer. The pilot was Jack O'Neill, but not their Jack O'Neill. Not from their universe. Daniel let his head fall against the wall beside him and pressed his cuffed hands on his temples. SG-1 had done it again! Due to some crazy anomaly, they had ended up in another universe. And as cruel fate would have it, of course they had to encounter none other that the doppelganger of their deceased leader, friend and mentor. The man whose loss had hit them like a tornado and left them in a depressing state of mind where nothing made sense anymore. It was torture to see him here. Seeing that he was alive, but at the same time knowing that he was just not the Jack O'Neill they knew as friend and so much more. The loss was still there and the other O'Neill's presence emphasized it even more. These were Daniels thoughts, Carter's feelings were not as hopeless.

She forced herself to look at him as he said goodbye to the guards and climbed into the aircraft. The hatch automatically closed and they were alone with him. When he walked wordlessly past them, her eyes found something glittering on his uniform. A pair of golden wings were pinned over his left breast pocket. This reality's version of a pilot's goldwings. This detail released an unknown reservoir of assurance in her. It calmed and filled her with the confidence that this O'Neill, despite his open dislike of them, could help. Over the years, they had met a few doubles from other realities. There had always been differences, but also many parallels. This O'Neill was a pilot too. Someone that climbed into a military aircraft to protect something that was worth protecting for him, without considering his own health. She refused to think that someone who was noble like that, would completely rule out the possibility that they were indeed not guilty.

"Ground Control, this is Galactica Raptor 13-2. Do I have permission to take off?" They heard Major O'Neill ask. Over the seat's backrest, they could only see part of his back and head.
"Here is Caprica ground control to Galactica Raptor 13-2. You've got permission to take off. Your route is transmitted to your interface. We wish you a good flight." Answered a voice whose owner they would never meet.

Carter sought out Daniel's attention. When he finally met her eyes, she tried to give him some of her confidence. He recognized her intent, smiled and shrugged as the aircraft gently took off. His eyes seemed to say, 'We'll get through this, after all, we're SG-1, the original'. Sam could only agree with him, believing that they would find a solution. But if she would have possessed the ability to see into the future, she would know by now that it had to get a lot worse, before it could get better.