Hey guys! I wasn't planning on updating before I got chapter 4 done, but I decided to post a little early… because it's my birthday (and the 20 year anniversary of SG1)! :D Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this, and be sure to let me know what you think!

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"In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors." — William Blake

—

By the time we'd landed in Colorado Springs, Lieutenant Ford and I had dropped enough hints to know that we were going to the same place. Of course, we weren't allowed to talk about it directly, given that the whole thing was top secret, but it was simple enough to figure out.

Ford was surprisingly easy to get along with, for a jarhead. He didn't seem to have the same hard-core intensity that a lot of Marines did. Instead, he was more like an excited puppy; raring to go and ready for adventure. His pure enthusiasm was contagious, and when we arrived at Cheyenne Mountain I was almost as enthusiastic as he was.

But that enthusiasm faded quickly. It wasn't something I could keep up during the next five days of briefings and packing at the SGC we had to endure in preparation for leaving. We went over everything, from gate protocols and procedures to a crash course in Ancient history (literally) and technology.

Throughout all of it, I learned three things; first, that the scientists didn't like the military. Second, that most of the military didn't like the scientists. Third, that I was the only female member of the military contingent on the expedition.

Fun.

So far in my time in the Air Force my gender hadn't been much of a barrier, surprisingly. And luckily.

But that was me: 'Lady Luck' had been my call sign when I was flying F-302s for a reason.

Nevertheless, I got the feeling that some of my fellow soldiers weren't thrilled with my presence. I'd been nervous about it when I met Colonel Sumner, our Commanding Officer. He'd been rather stand-offish and I couldn't get a good read on him. It wasn't until I asked Ford if he knew anything about the Colonel — apparently he was alright, so long as you followed orders and respected the chain of command — that I relaxed.

I could follow orders. That was easy. I liked following orders.

Apparently Ford had worked with Colonel Sumner before. Sumner had trained him when he was first assigned to the SGC, and given that I seemed to have found a friend in Lieutenant Ford, I figured that I'd be alright as long as I kept my head down and worked hard.

And, y'know, didn't die.

Finally, we were ready. Everyone had arrived and nearly everything was packed up and ready to go on what could potentially be the greatest expedition in human history.

So, no pressure, right?

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The gate room was chaos.

Of course, that shouldn't have been much of a surprise, given that 122 doctors, scientists, technicians, soldiers (a good portion of which were speaking in at least a dozen different languages) and their personal belongings, plus at least six months of food, supplies, all sorts of medical and scientific equipment as well as an arsenal's worth of ordnance were about to step through the Stargate and into another galaxy.

I tried not to stare as I entered the room, making for the back wall only to trip over someone, nearly falling onto the undoubtedly very expensive and very valuable piece of equipment he was inspecting. "Oh! I'm sorry!" I exclaimed once I'd regained my balance.

The man — undoubtedly a doctor — looked up for a brief second and smiled. "Not to worry, I'm nearly done here," he said, quickly returning to the task at hand. I continued on to the tiniest piece of free space against the back wall that was as out of the way as possible and dumped by pack and gear on the floor before squatting down to do one last inspection. I'd probably done at least five already, but I didn't want to take any chances.

"Doctor Beckett, I thought I told you to leave this stuff alone," a gruff voice said, and I looked up to see a Marine — Sergeant Bates, if I remembered correctly — standing over the doctor with an annoyed look on his face.

The doctor looked up. "Listen, I just need a couple of minutes to finish my work, and you're not helping by standing there," he said with a distinct accent. Irish? Or Scottish, maybe?

Bates huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, doctor, you've got to pack this up. Now." He nudged the box of equipment with his boot; gently enough not to cause any damage or move it very far, but the movement was distinct enough to send a very clear message.

"Hey!" Beckett cried, beginning to stand up. "What d'you think-"

Colonel Sumner came down the ramp that led up to the gate, his face stern as he narrowed his eyes at Beckett. "Everything in here has been double-checked and triple-checked and cleared for takeoff. Leave it alone," he said, hand resting on the weapon clipped to his vest as Bates came to attention.

Beckett turned to Sumner with a defiant, yet somehow sincere expression. "Look, Colonel, I don't answer to you."

"He said the same to me, sir," Bates butted in before the Colonel could speak, glaring at Beckett.

Sumner turned to Bates, and I was fairly certain that the stern look on his face was likely plastered there from years of experience, judging by the dark gleam in his eye I'd caught during one of the briefings earlier.

Or maybe he wasn't hugged enough as a kid. The jury was still out.

"That's what your sidearm's for."

I couldn't help but wince, and immediately looked back down at my pack, hoping that the Colonel hadn't seen it.

I wasn't entirely sure what to think of scientists myself, but I wasn't the biggest fan of the Colonel's attitude either. As I watched him make his way around the gate room out of the corner of my eye, it felt as though he was a kindergarten teacher walking around a classroom, chastising the students for misbehaving and correcting them when they stepped out of line, resorting to brute force whenever possible.

But at the same time, I understood why he was doing it. Everything was in chaos, and we were about to step into the unknown with no real way to prepare. It was only natural for the man entrusted with the security of the expedition to want everything squared away before we walked into any surprises the Pegasus galaxy may throw at us.

Clearly, he was an excellent Marine. There was no doubt that he was good at his job, but it was hard to respect a man who didn't respect others in such situations. Especially scientists. They were the brains to our brawn. It was better to work together than apart.

I shook my head and turned back to my things. There was nothing I could do about it without being insubordinate, so I went to work.

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Once I'd quickly finished the final check of my pack, I stood and began gearing up. I had my tac vest halfway on before I heard a loud "Watch it!" over my shoulder just a second before someone grabbed my elbow and yanked me to the side just as a tall black tower of plastic wrapped equipment rolled past, pushed by a small man with wild, Albert Einstein-esque hair and round glasses as he muttered something in another language under his breath. I watched him until he had the tower safely parked next to another one in the corner before turning around to thank the person who'd grabbed me.

"Sorry about that," the man said with a charming British accent. "But you were about to be run over."

I felt my cheeks warm. Nice one Billie. Nothing like nearly getting killed before you even stepped through the gate.

"Thanks," I managed, thankfully without stuttering or following up with a 'knight in shining armor' joke.

Although he certainly looked the part. He was a good six inches taller than me (not a difficult feat, as I barely reached five foot four), with carefully styled dark hair, a strong jawline, warm brown eyes and the obvious mannerisms of a complete gentleman.

In short, he looked perfect. Too perfect.

He smiled, showing off a full set of pearly whites. Great. Even his teeth were perfect.

"You're welcome…" he trailed off, looking at me expectantly.

I blinked, as it took me a second to realize what he was asking. "Oh! I'm Simmons. I mean, Lieutenant Simmons."

"Peter Grodin," he said, reaching out a hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Before I could come up with a response, I heard a voice calling for attention, looking up and spotting Dr. Weir climbing up onto the ramp in front of the Stargate. With a quick nod to Grodin, I shifted over to the side, where Sumner and a handful of other Marines were gathered, including the other two members of security team four — Sergeant Smith and Corporal Cutshall — to which I'd been assigned by Sumner in our final briefing.

I nodded to the two marines I barely knew. Smith was tall and built like a linebacker… or, well, a marine. His severe military haircut accentuated the sharp angles of his jawline and cheekbones and he had a long, jagged scar that ran from his left eyebrow to his right ear, trailing across his nose that had likely been large and beak-like at one time, but was now squashed and bent at an odd angle, as though it had been broken. Multiple times.

From what I'd heard, he'd been a Navy SEAL before joining the SGC, which I could easily believe based on the way he set his shoulders and held his head up high. Plus, his biceps had to be at least as big as my head. If there was a stereotypical picture of what a marine was supposed to look like, Smith certainly fit the bill, with the exception of the scar.

There had to be an interesting story behind that one.

Cutshall, while not as large and intimidating as Smith, still managed to make me feel like a small child standing next to him. His features were also softer than Smith's, with the exception of his rather large ears, highlighted by his shaved head and cap — which didn't seem to sit on his head quite as neatly as it did on Sumner or Ford. From the way he readjusted it as he nodded back to me, it wasn't from lack of trying.

It was the frown that seemed permanently plastered on his lips that made him seem as serious and as grim as I felt. The downturn of the corners of his lips could easily give Sumner's a run for his money.

Based on the number of SGC personnel that had greeted him by name the one time we shared a table one morning during breakfast (not speaking other than the obligatory pleasantries), Cutshall was an old hand around Cheyenne Mountain. It made me wonder why he'd agreed to join the expedition.

But there was no time for personal questions, no 'get to know you' games to play. Perhaps we could do that later, on Atlantis.

Besides, what better way to get to know someone than to be thrown into a life or death situation?

I shoved the thought to the side and turned my attention to Dr. Weir. "We're about to try to make a connection," she said, her voice strong and confident as it filled the quieted gate room. "We have been unable to predict exactly how much power this is going to take, and we may only get the one chance at this. So if we're able to achieve a stable wormhole-"

I looked up at the Stargate behind her, almost stoic in its silence as it loomed over us. The more I examined it the more I realized just how old it was. It practically radiated age, an ancient relic from a time long past and a people long gone.

Unless, of course, we found them in Atlantis.

Weir continued. "Now, every one of you volunteered for this mission-"

Well that was debatable. Depending on how you defined 'volunteered'.

Maybe 'agreed' or 'accepted' was more appropriate in my case.

"You are the world's best and brightest."

Again, debatable.

"And in light of the adventure we are about to embark on, you are also the bravest."

I resisted scoffing at that. I was not brave. More like an idiot running head first into danger because they weren't sure what else to do.

"I hope we all return one day having discovered a whole new realm for humanity to explore, but as all of you know, we may never be able to return home."

My breath caught in my throat, every instinct telling me to run, to go home and never look back.

"I'd like to offer you all one last chance to withdraw your participation," Weir finished, looking around the room expectantly, her face absolutely neutral.

For several seconds I considered it, my heart beating wildly. Could I do it? Could I back out, go home and leave all of it behind? Would I regret it?

I glanced around, noting that I was not the only one looking at the faces of the people around me. People I didn't know, didn't trust.

Then my eyes landed on Lt. Ford, who stood directly across the room from me. His face was serious, but his eyes were alight with excitement, and judging from the way his finger was tapping against the weapon clipped to his vest, he was barely concealing his eagerness.

He caught my eye, lips quirking upwards and shooting me a wink.

I almost laughed, and my heart rate slowed.

Truth was, I probably wouldn't regret it if I backed out. But something deep inside kept my feet glued to the floor. Something made me want to stay.

Though I had no idea what.

After several moments of silence, Dr. Weir smiled and nodded appreciatively to the group before looking up at the control room with something akin to pride in her eyes. "Begin the dialing sequence."

She quickly rushed out of the room, and the air began to buzz with voices chattering in excitement as klaxons started blaring and the Stargate began to hiss and grind, inner ring rotating until one of the triangle shaped chevrons moved over one of the symbols, lighting up once it locked into place.

"Chevron one encoded," a voice said over the loudspeaker.

Then, just to my left, I heard Colonel Sumner speaking in a low voice to a man with spiky black hair who was doing a final check on his weapon. "Let me make myself clear, Major." The Major in question froze, his head shooting upright, though he didn't turn back to look at Sumner. "You are not here by my choice."

I snuck a peek at the two, and while I could barely see the side of the Major's face, the smirk that formed on his lip made it clear that he wasn't intimidated by the Colonel.

"I'm sure you'll warm up to me once you get to know me, sir."

I returned my gaze to the gate, torn between a frown and a smile. His response was respectful, if not for the tiniest hint of wry humor in his tone.

"Just as long as you remember who's giving the orders," Sumner said gruffly, passing the Major as he walked over to Ford's group of marines, who were busy double-checking their gear.

The Major waited a beat before responding. "That would be Dr. Weir, right?" He said innocently, no hint of an actual question in his tone.

I snuck another peek at the two, and judging by the glare Sumner was shooting at the Major — who merely responded with a cheeky grin — Sumner certainly lived up to the hard-nosed reputation Ford described.

After a moment Sumner looked away, and the moment his back was turned the Major rolled his eyes.

My stomach clenched. That couldn't be good.

Something told me the Major was going to be the cause of an awful lot of trouble.

I glanced around again, catching Cutshall's eye. He must've heard the whole thing as well, because he leaned closer and spoke in a low voice, answering my unasked question. "That's Major Sheppard. Last minute addition requested by Dr. Weir. Was stationed in McMurdo until Weir recruited him."

He pulled away and I nodded in thanks even though Cutshall's explanation left me with more questions than answers.

I decided it was better to go back to watching the gate. No point worrying about Sheppard now.

The gate continued to spin, a chevron lighting up with each heavy clunk that echoed through the room over the klaxons and general chatter. Chevron three… four… five… six… seven…

Eight.

With the sound of something between the rush of a train entering a subway station and a toilet flushing, the gate opened with what looked like a blast of water before settling into a rippling pool in the center of the gate.

That was it; I was looking at the door to the universe.

A round of cheers ran through the group, several of the scientists high-fiving in excitement. With a robotic hum, the MALP activated and rolled up the ramp until it had disappeared into the event horizon.

Several tense seconds followed before Colonel Sumner strode forward, three men — Bates, Stackhouse and Peterson — following closely behind. "Let's go, people. We don't know how much power we've got. Security teams One and Two, you're up first. All other personnel will follow on our signal. Once on the other side, keep moving, clear the debarkation area. On my lead…"

Dr. Weir cut him off, but I was too distracted to pay attention.

This was happening. Really happening. There was no going back now.

With shaking fingers I readjusted my pack, running through a mental checklist in a desperate attempt to keep myself calm. Radio… headset… tac vest… weapon… I had everything. I knew I had everything.

There was nothing left to do but walk through the gate.

"Ready Lieutenant?" Smith asked, sidling up so that he and Cutshall were flanking me, and I gulped. Technically I outranked both men, but both surpassed me in age and experience — which could be awkward at best, problematic at worst, if Smith's terse smile was anything to go by.

I straightened up to my full height — all five foot four of me — and met his gaze with a challenging smile. No matter how I felt, I couldn't let anyone see my anxiety and self-consciousness. I may not have met a lot of trouble because of my gender in the past, but that didn't mean I could let my guard down. These were Marines, not the pilots in my squadron at Area 51. If I was going to make it I needed to blend in. No trouble, no problems. I couldn't give anyone a reason to doubt my capabilities.

Still, I told him the truth. "As I'll ever be, Sergeant," I said, hopefully sounding more confident than I did, hiding my trembling fingers in my pockets.

Smith's eyes followed the movement, and his smile, which had been at least an attempt at genuine, twisted into a smirk. "Glad to hear it."

I bit my tongue, spotting Ford and Sheppard climb up the ramp out of the corner of my eye. Without another word, I moved over to the bottom of the ramp. We were next in line — the final security team before all other personnel followed.

Ford and Sheppard were saying something to each other, Ford's expression unnervingly serious.

"Expedition team… move out," a voice said over the intercom.

Suddenly, Ford broke into a huge smile and gave a loud whoop before jumping backwards into the event horizon. A second later Sheppard followed, though he seemed to be bracing himself for something.

I chuckled quietly and shook my head. Ford really did behave like an overexcited puppy at times.

Still, seeing him act so casually eased the tension in my shoulders. Somehow, it made the prospect of stepping through an extremely powerful ancient piece of technology that I could scarcely understand seem a little less scary.

I stepped onto the ramp, Cutshall and Smith behind me, and cocked my weapon. For a half of a beat I hesitated as the last pieces of advice from my family and friends ran through my head.

"Bills, survive. But more importantly, thrive."

"Don't sit in the grandstand, Billie. Take a swing, you might hit something."

"Be safe, Billie. And be brave."

"God built you to last Billie Simmons, and don't you forget it."

"Go. And don't look back."

With a deep breath I stepped through the event horizon and into the unknown.