A Dream Given Form

A Babylon5 / Stargate SG1 Crossover

By Nix Nada

Become the Dreamer, open your eyes

Become the Keeper, free your mind

Become the Builder, destroy the bridge

Become the Sleeper – awaken!

Daniel Jackson took off his glasses, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. As he did so, he became aware that the talk around the meeting table had died down.

"Are you alright, Doctor Jackson?" asked General Hammond.

"Uh, yeah," replied Daniel. "Just tired, I guess. I've been having these odd dreams; haven't been getting much sleep."

"Do you need to be excused?" said Hammond.

"No, no," said Daniel, suppressing a wince of pain. "I'll be fine, really."

Hammond regarded Daniel for a moment longer, then turned back to Samantha Carter, who stood beside a large screen that was cycling slowly through some grainy aerial intelligence photographs. "Major Carter, please continue."

"Thank you, sir," said Sam, casting a concerned glance at Daniel who was rubbing his temples with his knuckles. "As you can see from the UAV images, the defences around the installation are slight at best. I don't think they're expecting an attack."

"It could be a trap," remarked Teal'c.

"Yeah," said Colonel Jack O'Neill, sourly. "Like they're just gonna leave a huge weapons cache like that unguarded."

"I disagree," said Sam, turning back to the screen behind her. "These were taken only two hours ago and you can clearly see -"

She broke off as Daniel fell from his chair with a cry of pain, clutching his temples.

Hammond leapt to his feet. "Get a medical team to take him to the infirmary, now!"

Jack and Teal'c held Daniel's shoulders as he writhed on the floor, until Doctor Janet Fraiser and her medical team arrived.

"Become the Sleeper," muttered Daniel as he was lifted onto a medical gurney. "Destroy… bridge…"

Daniel awoke in the infirmary, a nurse leaning over him.

"Doctor Fraiser," called the nurse, "he's conscious."

Doctor Fraiser moved quickly to Daniel's bedside. "How are you feeling, Doctor Jackson?" she asked.

"Fine," said Daniel, with a confused frown. "I don't know what you did, but I feel… fine."

"I didn't do a thing, I'm afraid," said Janet. "There was nothing we could do, except wait for the seizure to pass and administer a sedative. We ran a CAT scan while you were unconscious and found no anomalous readings. As far as I can ascertain, you're in perfect health, sudden seizures aside."

Daniel laughed. "So what you're saying is there's nothing at all wrong with me, except for what's wrong with me."

Janet smiled warmly. "Hey, you don't like the bedside manner? Find another doctor."

Daniel swung his legs over the side of the bed. "No," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, "no need for a second opinion."

"Doesn't he at least get a lollipop for being good?" came a voice from the doorway.

"Jack, hi," said Daniel. "I was just coming to see you."

"Feeling better, are we?" said Jack.

"Much, thank you. That's not why I wanted to speak to you, though."

"Oh?" said Jack.

"I wanted to tell you about the dreams I've been having," said Daniel.

Jack winced and looked to Doctor Fraiser. "Don't you have psychiatric professionals for this sort of thing, Doc?" Janet smiled, but said nothing.

"Cute," replied Daniel. "No, I think they're more than just dreams."

Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise. "More than just dreams; seriously, Janet, are you sure he's safe to be let out of here?"

"Come on, Jack," implored Daniel. "I'm serious. I think they're a communication of some kind."

"Okay," said Jack, still sounding sceptical. "Let's go talk it over in the refectory. I get the feeling I'm gonna need a serious amount of pie to get through this one."

Later that day, SG-1 was back at the long table in the briefing room with General Hammond. Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, although this time it was embarrassment that caused his discomfort rather than pain.

"I know, I know," he said, "it sounds ridiculous – but it was so clear."

"And you say this being, what was his name – Kesh?" started Sam.

"Kosh," corrected Daniel.

"You're saying this 'Kosh' gave you a Gate address?"

"Don't forget the poem," put in Jack. "It's a killer."

Daniel's discomfort was beginning to turn to irritation. "Look, I don't know what it was about. All I know is that I had a dream about someone calling himself Kosh who spouted a lot of mystic mumbo-jumbo, indicated that he needed our help and showed me a Gate address. He said it was a 'bridge'. It makes no sense, I feel a fool even bringing it up here, but what if it is something more?"

"It can't hurt to dial the address," suggested Sam. "If it doesn't connect to a Gate, what have we lost?"

General Hammond sat back in his chair, silent for a moment, pondering his decision. "Agreed," he said at last. "Let's give it a go."

"Thank you, sir," said Daniel.

The great wheel of the Stargate spun in its housing, coming to rest at the last of Daniel's Gate coordinates. The final chevron slammed into place and locked, the swirling blue of the wormhole twisting out into the room, before snapping back to form a stable, vertical pool.

Up in the Control Room, the team exchanged looks of surprise. Daniel, however, realised that there had never been any doubt in his mind that this address was valid. The dream had been so vivid, so urgent, that he almost felt he could still see the symbols when he closed his eyes.

"It appears that you were correct, Daniel Jackson," observed Teal'c.

Daniel nodded, but said nothing. He had almost hoped that he was wrong. Something about the message in the dream disturbed him. Knowing that the Gate address worked meant that the danger he perceived was likely to be very real as well.

"Alright," said General Hammond, "send through the MALP."

On the ramp before the Stargate, a bulky, unmanned vehicle with a robotic arm began to inch forward on its caterpillar tracks and, when it reached the top, slowly slipped through the wormhole.

The team waited for the MALP to reach its destination.

"Receiving MALP telemetry now, sir," announced the Gate technician. The team crowded around his monitor screen to see what the video camera onboard the MALP would send back.

The screen was black. "Sorry," said the technician, after a moment. "We're not getting any visual data. According to the readings, there's no atmosphere either."

Daniel let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The Gate led nowhere; the danger was passed.

"Wait a minute," said Sam, pointing at the screen, "are those stars?"

Against the black background, almost undetectable in the grainy image sent back through the wormhole, tiny pinpoints of light could be seen, gently rolling up the screen.

"I don't think this Gate is on a planet!" exclaimed Sam. "I think the MALP is spinning through space."

"The Gate could have been jettisoned from a Goa'uld ship," suggested Teal'c.

"Why would the Goa'uld discard a functioning Gate?" asked Jack.

"Perhaps they were transporting it and their ship was destroyed," replied Teal'c. "The Stargate may have survived."

"Hold on," said Sam, "I think we're getting something else."

The MALP had rolled forwards until it was pointing back the way it had come.

"That's no Stargate," said Sam. The screen showed what appeared to be four massive girder-like structures, hanging in space. In the centre of the four beams, a conical vortex twisted away, like a distortion of the Stargate wormhole. "What the hell is that thing?"

"I have never seen its like before," said Teal'c.

"Whatever it is," said Sam, as the image rolled off the bottom of the screen again. "It seems to be serving as a substitute Stargate."

"Is that possible?" asked General Hammond.

Sam shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought so, but…" she indicated the screen as evidence.

"There's something else there," said Jack. The MALP had rolled again so that it was almost facing away from the metal structure. The screen now showed a long, bumpy cylinder, slowly revolving on its axis. At one end, two huge prongs like a massive pincer jutted from the object, while the other end held six fin-like structures that appeared to be solar panels, three on either side, at right angles to the object.

It looked vast. The team stared at it in wonder, until they were startled by a transmission through the MALP's radio system.

"Unidentified craft," said a woman's voice. "This is Earthforce station, Babylon 5. Please transmit your identification. Your craft appears to be out of control. Do you require assistance?"

Hammond cleared his throat, taken aback, "This is General Hammond, of the United States Air Force," he said into the microphone.

There was a pause. "Say again?" said the voice. "The what?"

Hammond exchanged a puzzled look with Jack, who returned it with a characteristic shrug. "The… United States Air Force," he repeated. "Did you say that your space station was called Earthforce?"

The woman sighed. "Is this some kind of joke? Because believe me, it's been a very long day and I didn't have much of sense of humour to begin with."

"No joke, ma'am, I assure you," replied Hammond.

There was another, longer, pause. "This is an Earthforce station, affiliated to the government of the Earth Alliance, and its name is Babylon 5," recited the woman slowly, as if talking to a child. "My name is Commander Ivanova, and I have now officially run out of patience." Her voice managed to still sound calm and reasonable as she added, "Please either dock… or get the hell out of this sector."

Sam had an idea. "Commander Ivanova," she said into the radio, "what year is it?"

"Good grief!" exclaimed Ivanova when she heard Sam's voice. "How many of you are crammed into that thing?"

Sam laughed. "Oh, no, this vehicle is just a probe we use to gather data – it's not a ship."

"A probe?" said Ivanova, instantly suspicious. "Sent from where? For what purpose?"

"From Earth," replied Sam, "but if I'm right, I don't think it's the Earth that you know."

Again, there was silence from the radio as Ivanova thought this over. "Can we continue to communicate if I bring your probe on board the station?"

Sam checked her watch to see how long the Stargate's wormhole had been open. "I think so. I can keep communications open for about twenty more minutes. After that, I'd have to re-establish contact."

"Good," replied Ivanova. "I'll send a ship out to tow your probe in. I think you and I need to have a little chat."

"Thank you, Commander," said Sam, "I'd like that. Can you just confirm something for me? What year is it?"

"The year?" asked Ivanova. "It's 2258."