GATEWAY IN TIME Part 1 "The Meeting"
By Zimrahil

Hornblower lay awake in his hammock, still trying to rid himself of the image. He saw old Captain Hammond's brains splattered on the beach, already covered with fallen. It had been so senseless, so sudden. Why had he not seen the Irishman was the traitor? He tossed again, hearing Bush's familiar tread on the deck above him. It would now be a half hour into the morning watch. He finally gave up and sat down at the chart table. He'd already carefully plotted out the voyage home, but there could be no harm in doing it again. There was something dependable about mathematics. It wasn't changeable like men were. Why had he not seen it? For some reason people considered him insightful. Damned nonsense. He knew what he was and the string of accidents mixed with a few logical deductions easily accessable to the ordered mind which caused such an impression. He hated the look in Bush's eyes now. At first his friend had been the superior, and now, when looking at Bush across from the quarterdeck he was reminded of an adoring dog at its master. It disgusted him. He tossed the compass down again to accentuate his frustration.

That was when he heard a firm knocking at the hatch which could only be Mr. Orrock. A confident head appeared, "Mr. Bush's compliments and your presence is requested on deck, sir."

Hornblower merely glared until the midshipman continued, "man overboard, sir, we just pulled him out by Mr. Bush's orders, sir."

The captain nodded as Orrock closed the door behind him. Odd that he hadn't heard something-- it must have been far forward. He dressed as quickly as possible without a steward's assistance and pulled out his least beaten hat in case it was someone important.

A very bedraggled middle aged man and one of military bearing stood on deck wrapped in blankets. Hornblower eyed them, trying to size up what social standing they were and proceed accordingly.

"Colonel John Sheppard," the military one spoke up, smiling cheerfully despite the obvious predicament.

"Where the hell are we?" the other man whined, "I think I'm seasick... people go on the water in these toy boats?"

Clearly this other man must be of either blue blood or a rich merchantman to be behaving in this fashion. Hornblower sighed, he needed to know how they found themselves in the middle of the ocean with no sign of a craft, yet did not want to upset the man any further. One wrong word from the right person and he'd be on shore for the rest of his career on half pay.

"Hah...h'm..." Hornblower began.

"I think McKay would be better off somewhere warm, dry and lacking in citris," Sheppard announced.

"Yes...of course...Mr. Orrock see to it, if you please. Colonel after they find you some dry rayment if you would report to my cabin. I assume you're American from your speech?" Hornblower surmised.

"Rodney's Canadian, but yes, I'm American, and thank you, sir," Sheppard followed one of the marines below and had a bit of a laugh changing into some odd clothes of one of a sergeant.

Hornblower looked up as Sheppard knocked, then entered his cabin. The man was cocky, there was no doubt about it, but he had also seen action. There was something in his eyes and bearing that warned beneath the jocular exterior he was facing a man of battle.

"I assume you're wondering how we ended up in the middle of the ocean?" Sheppard began. Hornblower nodded curtly, not wishing to say more than was needed.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, sir, it's top secret. But I assure you we mean no harm to you whatsoever," Sheppard ended. Hornblower said nothing so Sheppard continued, "if you wouldn't mind my asking... where are we exactly?"

For a moment Hornblower considered that perhaps this colonel was a madman or a spy. But he had too much of his wits to be the former and he doubted a Frenchman could pull off so perfect an American accent, still it was best to be cautious, "about thirty miles from Brest," he replied, "still along the coast of France."

"France..." Sheppard stood clearly thinking quickly, "you're at war right?"

Hornblower's mouth fell slightly open-- how anyone could forget England and France were at war was beyond him. Just then the other man came barging in. Hornblower was about to protest against the lack of knocking when Bush came in and did it for him. The man did not look ashamed in the least.

"The conditions here are absolutely unacceptable," McKay began ranting, "and there are rats...rats... I abhore rats. Ever since that episode with the lab rat in college I simply cannot abide," it looked as though McKay would continue indefinitely. Hornblower glanced at the colonel who winked, then pulled a small lemon out of his pocket he had saved from his own clothes. Rodney was silent immediately.

"Hah...h'm...thank you, colonel," Hornblower spoke, "Mr. Bush?"

"I've sent Orrock out with Matthews in a boat to see if we could find evidence where we...found ... these two gentlemen. He's not returned."

"Very well," Hornblower picked up his hat and followed the first lieutenant on deck. Taking a glass he scanned the area but nothing but an almost calm sea could be seen for miles, "damn, he can't have disappeared."

"There's been no sign of a sail. It's almost as though he..."

"Vanished into thin air?" McKay had followed them. Bush gave him a death glare for interrupting.

--------------------------------------------

"Sir," Matthews stopped rowing, "the Hotspur, sir. It's gone!"

"What?" Orrock pulled out a glass and scanned the skyline. There was nothing but a sea bird and no sign of a sail. He swept round again and quickly lowered the glass, "hard over, Matthews!" he shouted. Looming up above them was the largest city he had ever seen all made of metal and glass.

"If you weren't seein' it, too, sir, I'd be wonderin' how much rum I'd had last night," Matthews stared up at it, bringing the small boat carefully away from the pylons.

"There's a landing jetty round the bend there, we'd better have a look," Orrock tried not to appear as excited as he was.

A few minutes later they'd pulled the boat up to the main dock and walked to the small door, staring up and about them in awe. Orrock could see no handles, but it opened as they drew near as though by magic.

"I don't like this, sir," Matthews warned.

"Nonsense," Orrock replied, "it's like a fairy story I heard as a boy. The magical island appearing only once every hundred years. Perhaps this is it, Matthews!"

The hallway inside appeared deserted and they continued down what looked like a never ending maze of passageways. Finally they heard voices ahead and what sounded like combat. The door opened and Orrock saw a woman fighting a huge warrior. Their practice weapons flashed in almost a blur as multi-coloured light drifted in through the stained glass windows. The woman did a spectacular move and the man was flung against the wall. He flipped back on his feet and noticed Orrock and Matthews.

"Nice outfit," he remarked to Orrock who was staring at the scantily clad warrior beside him.

"Are you an amazon?" Orrock remarked with awe.

"Amazon?" Teyla replied, smiling warmly but with confusion, "what planet are you from?" she asked politely but Orrock and Matthews simply exchanged puzzled looks, "how did you get here?" Teyla continued in a motherly fashion.

"In a boat," Orrock said, "but our ship disappeared and this city took its place," he shrugged, "I'm still not sure if I'm awake."

"This would be a question for Dr. McKay," Teyla said, "Ronin please fetch him while I bring them to Dr. Weir," she gestured to the doorway and began leading them to a more populated area, "please excuse my attire," she smiled, "I was not expecting visitors and find exessive clothing hampers my combat training."

"No...no trouble," Orrock kept his eyes carefully averted and she smiled at him. They found themselves in a bustling area and entered a large, though sparsely furnished, office.

"Dr. Weir?" Teyla said, "I found them wandering on the east pier."

"Welcome to Atlantis," the woman said, also greeting them warmly, "might I ask how you got here?"

Orrock explained yet again as Matthews stared around. Strangely enough, the leader only smiled knowingly, "we have strange occurances here fairly often."

"Sorry...McKay's missing, so's Sheppard. I brought Zalwhateverhisnameis here instead," Ronin came in, taking up half the office.

"Yes, verrry interesting story," Zalenka gibbered, "I believe it is the result of a spacal fissure opening as a result of the explosion of the drilling platform which might have caused a temporary bridge to a separate dimension parallel to our own but set in what we might perceive as a different temporal co-ordinate."

"In english?" Weir sighed.

"They're from the past," he shrugged, "from my calculations late 18th early 19th century Earth."

Weir's eyebrows shot up, "you're kidding?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Can you get them back?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, we have another problem," he sighed.

"Another problem?"

"Apparently Sheppard and McKay were caught in the fissure..."

"What so now you're saying they are in the 19th century?" Weir stood up from her desk, "that could be a problem."

"If I might inquire," Orrock stepped in, "is this the future?"

"I'm afraid so, yes. And to borrow an old phrase, you're not exactly in Kansas any more," Weir replied, "in fact you're not even in your own galaxy any more."