"A techno-mage?" said Sinclair, incredulously.
Ivanova had returned to Sinclair's office. She felt it best to deliver this particular piece of bad news in person.
"Not a real one," she said. "Just some kid who bought himself the robes and the books and a whole lot of bad luck."
"How long is the clear-up going to take?"
Ivanova shifted uneasily. "That's what I came to tell you. There's very little real damage to the room itself – that's easily fixed."
"But…?" prompted Sinclair.
"But," said Ivanova, "he left us a little present. I've got the people from SG-1 taking a look at it now. Can you believe that guy Daniel even suggested that this might be the reason they're here?"
Sinclair leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully. "Well," he said, "they did walk here through the Jumpgate from an alternate Earth, years in the past, on a mission they received from Ambassador Kosh in a dream, so I imagine anything's possible at this juncture."
"Point taken."
"So what's this problem SG-1 is looking into for us?"
"I'm not sure," said Ivanova, "but it looks bad. As far as we could tell from looking at the kid's notes, it's some kind of portal or rift in space – and it's getting bigger."
"Bigger? What sort of time scale are we talking about here?"
"Difficult to say, but from the rate of expansion, it'll breach the room in less than a day."
"Haven't we got any of our own people on it?"
"To be honest," said Ivanova, "I didn't see the point. Colonel Carter is an astrophysicist and Daniel Jackson is an expert on deciphering ancient languages like the ones in our wannabe techno-mage's books. We don't have anyone better on the station."
Sinclair stood up. "I'm not happy about leaving the safety of this station in the hands of strangers like this. Are you absolutely sure SG-1 can handle this?"
"They'd better," said Ivanova. "They've not got much time left before they're unable to return home."
"Okay then. We're just going to have to see what they can do."
"There's nothing we can do," said Jack.
Daniel looked up from the tome he was studying and scowled. "Jack, this is why we're here. We have to be able to do something."
"Daniel's right," said Sam. "I mean, we show up right when this happens, with the skills required to fix it – Daniel can translate the texts, then I can work out the –"
"Space stuff," interrupted Jack, "yeah, I know. But come on, we've only got about fourteen hours before General Hammond expects us back."
"Which is almost how long it'll take for that thing to start doing damage," said Sam. "It can't be coincidence, sir."
"It's all coincidence!" cried Jack. "Okay, okay – you and Daniel have got the skills, there's no doubt about that, but then explain this: what are Teal'c and I here for?"
"Perhaps there's a magic word that needs to be said in a really sarcastic tone of voice?" muttered Daniel into his book.
Jack waved a finger at Daniel, momentarily lost for words. "That's…" he started. "That's no way to talk about Teal'c."
"Perhaps," said Teal'c, feeling himself being dragged into the argument and looking for a quick escape, "we are here for a different reason, O'Neill. One that may be found elsewhere on the station?"
"Good idea, T," replied Jack, straightening up. "Let's leave these two with their ancient tomes of mystical hoodoo."
They made to leave but were stopped at the door by two men in security uniforms.
"What's going on?" asked Jack.
"It's okay," called Garibaldi, strolling up the corridor. The guards stepped back.
"Sorry about that; standard security protocol," explained Garibaldi. "I'm sure you wouldn't allow visitors to walk around your Stargate Command unescorted."
"No," agreed Jack, "and yet it happens so very often."
Garibaldi chuckled. "Yep," he said, "that's the trouble with a security net: a net is only a loose collection of holes."
"Very… philosophical," said Jack.
"Sorry, it's the long hours," replied Garibaldi. "You wouldn't believe the stuff that runs through your head on the night shift."
Jack shook his head. "Garibaldi, I think that talking to you is one of the few things that's happened to me today that makes any sense at all."
"I've just got off duty," said Garibaldi. "What say I buy you guys a drink?"
Jack turned to Teal'c with a smile. "Maybe Daniel was right – there is a reason for us to be here." To Garibaldi, he said, "lead on!"
It didn't take long to reach one of Babylon 5's drinking establishments, and by the time they did, Garibaldi and O'Neill were chatting away like old friends. Teal'c, meanwhile, walked along beside them in contemplative silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the station.
"An O'Neil class station?" Jack was saying. "You don't say. One L or two?"
"Just the one," replied Garibaldi.
"Ah, so close."
Jack was delighted to find he still could still get a bottle of beer in this version of the future, while Teal'c received a tall glass of fruit juice recommended to him by Garibaldi, who ordered the same for himself.
No sooner had they been served their drinks, however, than Garibaldi's communicator beeped. He sighed. "Go ahead."
"Chief, we've got a situation down in Green-2. The Gaim ambassador's been murdered."
Garibaldi put his untouched glass of fruit juice on the bar and stood to leave. As he reached to switch off his communicator the voice on the other end spoke again.
"Uh… Chief? Is Colonel O'Neill with you? I'd bring him along if I were you."
Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise and Garibaldi returned his look with a shrug. "On my way," he said and switched off his communicator.
"Well, let's go check this out," said Garibaldi. His manner seemed different somehow, more guarded, as if waiting to see what lay at this crime scene before deciding if he had been right to trust them. Jack, seeing this, simply nodded and put his beer down on the bar.
"Shall I remain here?" asked Teal'c.
"He'll be no trouble, I promise you," said Jack.
Garibaldi nodded to one of his officers standing by the door of the bar, who glanced over at Teal'c and nodded back.
"Okay, Jack," said Garibaldi. "Let's go."
As the others left, Teal'c turned back to the bar. He knew that his friend was innocent, so he would have nothing to worry about, whatever was discovered at the crime scene. With the faintest flicker of a smile, he picked up Garibaldi's untouched glass of fruit juice and sat it next to his own. Jack's beer he pushed to the far side of the bar.
He considered the situation. Perhaps Colonel O'Neill was right, and there really was no preordained reason for them to be there, or perhaps Daniel Jackson was correct and they would each have a role to fulfil. Either way, it was a unique experience, visiting this grand space station with its exotic aliens. It was clear that Babylon 5 had its own share of danger and threats, but for the moment, Teal'c was content to sit at peace in a universe that had never known the tyranny of the Goa'uld, and he felt sure that if there was a greater purpose to his being there, it would find him when the time was right.
Someone took the seat to Teal'c's left. A sideways glance revealed a man with reptilian skin and bright red eyes, dressed in studded leather robes. The man gestured to the bartender for a drink as another figure seated himself to Teal'c's right. This man looked like a slightly portly, middle-aged human, dressed in an extravagant frock coat, his hair standing straight up in a tall comb from ear to ear above a high, bald forehead. He too ordered a drink.
As one, they turned towards Teal'c. "I couldn't help noticing," they both said at once.
The lizard-skinned man frowned. "Do you mind, Mollari?" he said, heavy venom dripping from his tone. "This is a private conversation."
Mollari's reply was as cold as the other's was spiteful. "This is a public bar, G'Kar. I do not believe you can dictate the flow of conversation."
G'Kar gave a short, humourless laugh. "That's rich: a Centauri calling me a dictator."
"You see what I have to put up with?" Mollari said to Teal'c. "I do apologise, the Narn are like children, you see. They have no idea how to behave in civilised society. They lack the manners of the Centauri."
"'Centauri manners' is a contradiction in terms," replied G'Kar.
The two fell into a sullen, resentful silence. Between them, Teal'c made a few quick assessments as he sipped his drink. The two obviously knew each other but were clearly members of opposing races. There was a palpable air of stalled violence between them, as if each would like nothing better than to tear the other limb from limb, but was forced to resist the temptation.
"You are ambassadors," Teal'c guessed.
"For my sins," said Mollari, staring down into his drink. "Yes."
"As am I," added G'Kar, taking a sip from his own glass. "For his sins."
This jibe looked set to start them sniping at one another again, so Teal'c raised a hand for silence. "I am the sole representative of my people, the Jaffa, here in this universe, which makes me an ambassador of sorts as well. Perhaps we should talk."
"Yes," said Mollari, eagerly, "yes, but not here." He shot a look at G'Kar. "There may be unsavoury elements listening."
"Here," said Teal'c, firmly. "All three of us."
Perhaps, he thought, I am here to mediate peace between these two races. This would indeed be a great, near-impossible task.
Elsewhere in the station, Garibaldi and O'Neill approached the crime scene. A man and a woman in security uniforms stood guard at the end of the corridor, but they moved aside to allow the two through.
Crumpled on the floor was a vaguely humanoid body, its torso torn open. It wore an insect-like helmet with round, dark eyes and a long snout. A pool of blood spread out from the corpse.
"Good god, what a mess," said Garibaldi.
"I think I see why you were told to bring me along," said Jack, pointing to the wall.
Daubed on the walls outside the Gaim's quarters, written in the ambassador's blood, were three words:
O'NEILL. SG-1. DEATH.