Rhydin time: 04:33 July 18, 2012
In a dense patch of forest a few miles northeast of the city proper a gateway that had been dormant for some time shuddered back to life. The symbols on the tall ring centered on a dais began to light up and the inner ring began to spin. Vines that had been clinging to the unused structure fell away and dust that had settled on the ring shook away in clouds, making it look as if it were steaming—and the inner ring spun fast enough that it might have been.
Finally eight symbols in total lit and the keystone chevron locked into place seconds before a blue vortex formed and shot out in a cylindrical wave that collapsed back in on itself, but not before completely obliterating everything in its path. Trees fell and branches showered down like rain and all within the vicinity of the gate was bathed in an eerie blue light emanating from the tranquil pool left ebbing within the ring like a standing pool of water.
Several moments passed and nothing happened, then the surface was disturbed by a man in black combat dress, a pack on his back and a P90 submachine gun clipped to his belt which he almost drop as he tried to regain his footing on his stumble down the ramp leading up to the gate.
"That was one rough ride," he said to open air, clearly with the expectation of a response. When he didn't receive one he righted his glasses which had been knocked askew during his trip through the wormhole and looked around at the empty expanse. "Guys?"
He hadn't been the first through the gate so he hadn't expected to be the first on the other side. He turned towards the gate in time to catch the event horizon of the portal wink out of existence. "Damn!"
After a quick survey of the immediate area didn't produce any signs of life—no footprints, no nothing—he did a circuit around, looking for anything he might have missed. In the meantime he hit the call button on his radio.
"This is Dr. Daniel Jackson. Atlantis team, can you read me?" He let the button go and was greeted by static. He gave it a moment. "I repeat, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson, can anyone read me?" Another few moments of dead air and he tried a couple other channels commonly used by the SGC, but he wasn't surprised when he came up with nothing.
"Must have gotten knocked off course somehow," he said to himself as he did another circuit of the gate, this time ringing out a bit farther. Panic had yet to set in, merely some annoyance, but when his survey of the area didn't produce what he was looking for—a DHD which would operate the gate—he got that feeling of dread forming like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.
He started going over his options in his head. Protocol would be to find a secure campsite within close proximity to the gate and sit tight, wait for back up. It was nighttime, so that would also be the smartest course of action over exploring an unknown planet in the dark. The foliage around the gate looked like any other world he's been, but there had been rare exceptions to that rule. As far as he could tell there were no markings, no temples, no anything an archeologist like himself could use to guess at the culture of the lifeforms on this planet—if there even were any.
One thing was clear was that the Stargate hadn't been used in a very long time and that meant some relative safety from the Goa'uld.
The other thing he could do is come morning explore the area and hope the natives of the planet had the DHD housed elsewhere. It hadn't been uncommon for that to happen, for it to be put into a warehouse or a museum somewhere. A slimmer chance would to be to find an alternate power source to power the Gate, but he wasn't confident enough to try that himself.
All he knew was at this point he needed to set up a camp, so he began to ring out farther from the Gate, always keeping it as his central marker. The moons were ready to descend for their nightly slumber and the sun was just peeking over the horizon when he picked a spot a good three hundred yards from the Gate. There was a thick copse of trees and a nearby stream for water. As for food, he had a fair amount of MREs, but they wouldn't last forever.
Though not tired he set up his ground tarp and bedroll to sit on. He pulled out his recorder and began to chronicle what had transpired thus far.
"Dr. Daniel Jackson's personal log, July 18th, 2005..."
In a dense patch of forest a few miles northeast of the city proper a gateway that had been dormant for some time shuddered back to life. The symbols on the tall ring centered on a dais began to light up and the inner ring began to spin. Vines that had been clinging to the unused structure fell away and dust that had settled on the ring shook away in clouds, making it look as if it were steaming—and the inner ring spun fast enough that it might have been.
Finally eight symbols in total lit and the keystone chevron locked into place seconds before a blue vortex formed and shot out in a cylindrical wave that collapsed back in on itself, but not before completely obliterating everything in its path. Trees fell and branches showered down like rain and all within the vicinity of the gate was bathed in an eerie blue light emanating from the tranquil pool left ebbing within the ring like a standing pool of water.
Several moments passed and nothing happened, then the surface was disturbed by a man in black combat dress, a pack on his back and a P90 submachine gun clipped to his belt which he almost drop as he tried to regain his footing on his stumble down the ramp leading up to the gate.
"That was one rough ride," he said to open air, clearly with the expectation of a response. When he didn't receive one he righted his glasses which had been knocked askew during his trip through the wormhole and looked around at the empty expanse. "Guys?"
He hadn't been the first through the gate so he hadn't expected to be the first on the other side. He turned towards the gate in time to catch the event horizon of the portal wink out of existence. "Damn!"
After a quick survey of the immediate area didn't produce any signs of life—no footprints, no nothing—he did a circuit around, looking for anything he might have missed. In the meantime he hit the call button on his radio.
"This is Dr. Daniel Jackson. Atlantis team, can you read me?" He let the button go and was greeted by static. He gave it a moment. "I repeat, this is Dr. Daniel Jackson, can anyone read me?" Another few moments of dead air and he tried a couple other channels commonly used by the SGC, but he wasn't surprised when he came up with nothing.
"Must have gotten knocked off course somehow," he said to himself as he did another circuit of the gate, this time ringing out a bit farther. Panic had yet to set in, merely some annoyance, but when his survey of the area didn't produce what he was looking for—a DHD which would operate the gate—he got that feeling of dread forming like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.
He started going over his options in his head. Protocol would be to find a secure campsite within close proximity to the gate and sit tight, wait for back up. It was nighttime, so that would also be the smartest course of action over exploring an unknown planet in the dark. The foliage around the gate looked like any other world he's been, but there had been rare exceptions to that rule. As far as he could tell there were no markings, no temples, no anything an archeologist like himself could use to guess at the culture of the lifeforms on this planet—if there even were any.
One thing was clear was that the Stargate hadn't been used in a very long time and that meant some relative safety from the Goa'uld.
The other thing he could do is come morning explore the area and hope the natives of the planet had the DHD housed elsewhere. It hadn't been uncommon for that to happen, for it to be put into a warehouse or a museum somewhere. A slimmer chance would to be to find an alternate power source to power the Gate, but he wasn't confident enough to try that himself.
All he knew was at this point he needed to set up a camp, so he began to ring out farther from the Gate, always keeping it as his central marker. The moons were ready to descend for their nightly slumber and the sun was just peeking over the horizon when he picked a spot a good three hundred yards from the Gate. There was a thick copse of trees and a nearby stream for water. As for food, he had a fair amount of MREs, but they wouldn't last forever.
Though not tired he set up his ground tarp and bedroll to sit on. He pulled out his recorder and began to chronicle what had transpired thus far.
"Dr. Daniel Jackson's personal log, July 18th, 2005..."