Disclaimer: Star Trek and Stargate SG-1 are the property of several large companies. No money is being made out of this story.
Rating: PG
Recipient: Illmantrim
In space outside Deep Space 9, the shuttle Orinoco was flying towards the wormhole. Captain Sisko was on his way to a meeting in the Gamma quadrant. He quietly watched the emptiness of space ahead of him. At first it wasn't clear what the shuttle was headed for, but then - seemingly from nowhere - the giant space anomaly appeared in a vortex of colour and light, a breath-taking view, no matter how often one had seen it.
As he entered the maelstrom, the Captain could feel the presence of the beings that lived in the wormhole, or the celestial temple, as the Bajorans called it. He had talked to them in the past, had even shared their plane of existence. This time, however, he only wanted to use their realm as a shortcut to the Gamma quadrant, just like many other travellers before him.
What he didn't know, though, was that the prophets had other plans for him...
At the exact same moment aboard the station, Chief Miles O'Brien and Dr. Julian Bashir were entering the holosuite they had rented for the afternoon. Both men were eagerly awaiting the new program Quark, the Ferengi owner of the holosuites and the bar they were located at, had recommended to them...
For a few moments, reality seemed to stretch, and then Sisko realized that something was wrong. The shuttle surrounding him had vanished, and instead everything was basked in a blinding white light.
The prophets.
Someone was approaching him, and he realized it was his son Jake. Or rather, one of the wormhole beings pretending to be Jake.
"The Sisko must help us," it said without a preamble.
He stared at it, puzzled. Even after all these years he still hadn't gotten used to their strange way of interacting with him. "Help you with what?"
"The Sisko must help us with a problem." Now it seemed to be getting impatient with him already, and he had only asked one single question so far!
"A problem? What kind of a problem?"
"The Sisko is asking too many questions. He will know what to do when the time has come." And with that "Jake" turned around and vanished.
Nothing happened for a while after this confusing conversation, and he was just starting to believe that they must have forgotten about him when suddenly the bright light changed and a blue tint appeared in the air around him. He felt cold, and then a strange power propelled him forward. Hadn't he known it better, he would've thought that there were stars rushing past him. It was over before he could ponder this thought any further, though; with a loud bang he flew through something and then landed in the yellow dust of somewhere.
Getting up awkwardly he started to dust himself off. "Where am I," he asked the formation of rocks next to him. They didn't answer, of course. Looking upwards he tried to see if he recognized the two stars shining brightly in the orange sky above him, but to no avail. He had no idea where the prophets had sent him.
Looking around he noticed the strange device that seemingly had taken him to this world. It looked like a giant wheel, made out of metal it seemed, and there were signs written on it in a font he didn't recognize. Next to him stood some kind of panel, probably used to control the device, but as long as he didn't know what those signs meant he didn't dare to try to operate it.
He had just decided to further explore this world in the hope of finding the creators of the device, when suddenly a group of humans appeared from behind a wall of stones close to him. They were pointing archaic weapons at him - machine guns it seemed - and he slowly raised his hands. As outdated as they were, he knew that even a single bullet could be enough to kill him.
"What are you doing here," one of them, a soldier judging by his stance and the camouflage suit he was wearing, asked gruffly.
"Actually, I was just going to ask you that. I gather you aren't the ones who sent me here?" He put on a smile in the hope of reassuring them that he wasn't dangerous.
"Sent you here? Nope, I don't think so. You came through the Stargate then?"
"The Stargate? If you mean the wheel behind me by this," he indicated the alien device with a nod of his head, "then, yes, I just passed through it."
The single woman in the group of strangers quietly approached the leader and whispered something in his ear. He couldn't make out the words, but it seemed that he agreed with her. At a wave of his hand they all lowered their weapons.
"I'm Colonel O'Neill, this is Major Carter, Dr. Jackson, Teal'c," the Colonel introduced himself and the others. "Major, you'd better talk to him."
The blonde woman nodded, and walked towards him. "Can you tell us how you managed to get the Stargate to work? We've been trying to get off this world for the past two days, but it hasn't responded to any of our attempts to dial our homeworld. "
"I'm Captain Sisko. I would say that it's nice to meet you, but under these circumstances ... I'm afraid that I can't help you with this 'Stargate'. Actually, I was about to ask you to help me to get back home. I have no idea how I got here. Or where 'here' is, for that matter."
"You don't know?"
"Well, no. I was on my way to a meeting in the Gamma quadrant and just passing through a local wormhole to get there, when I was sent here by the beings that inhabit said wormhole."
"So you weren't even using a Stargate to start with," O'Neill chimed in.
"No, not as far as I know. I was in a shuttle in space."
The man who had been introduced as Dr. Jackson spoke up at that: "A space shuttle? Captain Sisko, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what kind of military do you belong to?" He seemed to have noticed his strange uniform.
"Starfleet of course." He took a closer look at their uniforms then. "And you?"
"United States Air Force."
"Air Force? The Air Force?" But that organisation had been demobilised centuries ago! He stared at the Colonel. "I hope that question doesn't sound too strange, but what date is it?" Oh, not again, please!
"Date? On Earth it must be April 16 by now, I believe."
"And the year?"
O'Neill frowned at the strange question, but replied nevertheless: "2004."
Damn! But how could that be? He frowned, and the question had been pronounced before he could stop himself: "What are you doing on this planet then?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Earth didn't start exploring deep space before 2063!" He couldn't believe he was having this conversation.
"What do you mean, didn't?"
"Colonel, if I may?" At the nod of her superior officer, Major Carter continued: "Captain, what date is it today?"
At this Sisko couldn't help a smile. Something about the major reminded him of his old friend Dax.
"That's impossible," O'Neill grunted.
"Well, Sir, we've done it before. It's certainly possible to cross time as well as space with a Stargate."
"Yeah, but there were no reports of solar flares before we left Earth, were there," O'Neill replied, shaking his head. "You did check that, right?"
"Yes, Sir, of course we did. For our time, and our sun. But what about Sisko's sun?"
Everyone's eyes focused on him. He silently shook his head. They seemed to have missed his point of the prophets sending him here entirely. "The wormhole is too far away from Bajor's sun to be influenced by it. Besides, it's not a coincidence that I'm here; I was sent here by the beings known to us as the prophets."
For the first time the dark man with the strange symbol on his head spoke up: "The prophets? Are they your gods?" He didn't seem to like that idea, judging by the look of distaste on his face.
"No, of course not. Well, not my gods, in any case. They are aliens that inhabit the wormhole I mentioned earlier. They are the reason why this wormhole is stable and thus usually allows safe passage from our quadrant of space to the area we call the gamma quadrant. Unfortunately for me they seemed to have other things in mind this time ..."
Somewhere deep down in his guts Miles O'Brien had known all along that it would be a mistake to try out Quark's newest addition to his collection of holonovels.
"The best story ever! Better than that fortress of yours, or that thing with the boat, much better! Written by the best holoauthor in this quadrant of space! The most realistic setting my holosuites have seen so far, and, you know, my holosuites have seen a lot ..." The Ferengi businessman had even winked at him when he had said that. "And, for you, my good friends, I'll even make a special prize."
And at exactly that point O'Brien had started to worry. Quark never allowed even the tiniest slip of latinum to pass through his greedy hands, and he most definitely would never do such a thing just because someone was a "friend". Oh, no, this man even betrayed his own brother, he wasn't going to give away anything for free, unless, yes, unless he thought that something was wrong with his new program, and he needed a guinea pig (or two) to check it out.
And of course that had meant Julian and him.
He had even told Julian of his suspicions, but his friend had insisted that he didn't want to go on yet another rafting tour. It had been difficult to argue with that, considering that they had spent the past thirteen visits to the holosuites getting soaked ...
Oh, damnit. They were doomed, and he knew it. It was too late now, however. They were inside the holosuite, and as predicted something had gone wrong. Julian had been surprised of course, but he had seen in coming all along. It didn't matter, though: right after the start of the program the computer had seemed to freeze, and now they were stuck in the strange setting of an unknown planet and the computer didn't respond to any of his attempts to shut off the program.
"Great, just great. And there isn't even anything fun to do here! I have no idea how Quark could call this program 'exciting'," Julian was just complaining, when in a flash of bright light a man appeared in front of them. "Q! You," he exclaimed, surprised.
"Why yes, my dear Doctor. It's nice to see you, too," the being said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"What are you up to this time? Is this your doing? This is not funny!" Miles was getting angry now. He didn't like it when omnipotent beings played with him and his friends as if they ruled the galaxy!
"Oh, nothing, Miles. I'm just paying my part of a debt."
"A debt? Q, what the hell are you talking about?"
"That's none of your concern, really. You wouldn't understand it, anyway. Now, off you go. Hush, hush," he said, shooing them off with his hands as he did so.
Then Q snapped his fingers, and in another flash of light the holosuite surrounding them vanished, and Miles and Julian found themselves on another planet.
And in front of them stood the Captain, surrounded by a group of strangers.
"Captain Sisko!"
"Chief, Doctor, what happened?" Sisko seemed to be just as surprised to see them as they were.
"Q," Miles grumbled.
"Q?"
"Yes, Q."
"I should've known."
It was obvious by the looks they exchanged that their monosyllabic conversation had confused the strangers. Finally, O'Neill spoke up: "Q?"
"Yeah, Q," Dr. Bashir replied. "Q, in all his almighty glory."
"What is this Q? Or who," the other doctor asked.
"Oh, just an omnipotent being that seems to enjoy making our life a misery," Julian sighed. He turned towards the Captain: "Who are these people, Sir?"
"Colonel O 'Neill, Major Carter, Dr. Jackson, and Teal'c of United States Air Force."
That raised a few eyebrows.
"I'll explain later," Sisko continued. "It seems that they're stuck on this planet as well. They used this Stargate," he pointed towards the gate behind them, "to get here, but now it seems to have stopped working and they can't leave anymore. I was sent here by the prophets, who somehow managed to use the Stargate to send me here."
"Damn. Q and the prophets? But what for?"
"I have no idea, Dr. Bashir."
Before they could come up with a theory, another bright flash blinded them for a moment, and then Q himself was standing in front of the Stargate. He wore a red Starfleet uniform, bearing the insignia of an admiral, obviously to mock Sisko and his officers.
"Colonel Simmons! What the hell are you doing here?" Even before O'Neill had finished his question, all members of SG-1 were pointing their weapons at him.
"Colonel Simmons? But this is the being we know as Q," Sisko replied, confused. He stared at Q/Simmons, his eyes narrowing dangerously: "Q, what are you up to this time? Haven't you wreaked enough havoc in the universe, do you now have to tamper with our timeline as well?"
Q raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Who, me? You really should know me better than this, Captain Sisko. I'm not this Colonel Simmons everyone is talking about, nor have I ever pretended to be him." Grumbling he added: "But you can be sure that I'll investigate this matter. This must be Q's doing. The old fool was probably impersonating me to further destroy my good reputation. We will have to discuss that! But enough of this. I should have known that you wouldn't be able to see past your own little world, Sisko. I'm neither tampering with your timeline, nor is this your universe. You, my dear friends, are in an alternate universe right now!"
"What? Why? Q, I've had enough of this. Send us back!"
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, my dear Captain. See, I lost a game of poker."
"Poker?"
"Yes. Very unfortunate, isn't it?"
"All right, Q, that's it. If you lost a game, then why are we here?"
"Oh, I should've mentioned this earlier, shouldn't I? You were my bet."
"Q!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Sisko. Really, I am. But who could've predicted that the prophets would be so good at this game?"
"The prophets played a game of poker with you?!"
"Well, not exactly poker. You see, roughly once every billion of your years all the omnipotent beings of the universe meet for a game of poker. Of course we don't call it poker, and the rules are completely different - for example, we use nebulas, planets and suns instead of cards - but your primitive brains wouldn't be able to grasp the real rules or the name of the game which is why I'm simplifying things for you. Anyway, at the end of the game there were only me and the prophets left. I had run out of planets to gamble with, so I chose to parlay you. The prophets really loved the idea!"
Sisko stared at him. "The prophets would never do such a thing. They aren't like you, Q!"
"Oh, they never told you about it, did they? Must've slipped their mind. The 'prophets' actually are distant relatives of the Q. Don't look at me like that. This goes way back in time to the creation of the universe, and we usually don't like to talk about it, but it's the sad truth ..."
"You must be kidding me," Sisko shook his had. "That's impossible!"
"Ah, my dear Captain, you really should know by now that nothing's impossible when the Q are involved!"
Quietly, Teal'c said: "I don't like him. He talks like a Goa'uld."
At this Q started to laugh. It took him a while to calm down again, and then he replied: "Oh, Teal'c, that was great! Comparing me, a Q, to those guys?! They're just cheap impostors! Wouldn't recognize a true omnipotent being if it bit them in the ass! Gods, really. What a joke!"
"All right, Q," Sisko interrupted him. "Let's assume for a moment that you are indeed telling the truth. That we are stuck in an alternate universe, because you lost a game of intergalactic poker. Then please just answer this one question: why?"
Q sighed. "Well, Captain, like I said, I lost the game. But you must know that in this game, it is possible for everyone to lose. And that's exactly what happened; both me and the prophets lost, and that's why you're here right now. We had to agree on a payment, and decided that entertaining each other would be fair enough. So, entertain us!"
And in a flash of light, a huge amphitheatre appeared on the steppe, complete with thousands of spectators, and people selling hotdogs, popcorn, and brightly coloured balloons.
"Entertain you," O'Neill growled.
"Oh, yes. Everyone loves gladiators and a good fight, and we have decided that it will be most interesting to watch your two groups fighting each other. We really searched long and hard, and have decided that you are perfect for this. It'll be kind of like the Olympics. There will be games of strength, and skill, and speed. One from each group fighting each other till the end and the winner has been determined. Of course that means that we will need one more combatant," Q said, grinning. He snapped his fingers, and in a flash Worf appeared, clad in his pyjamas and obviously quite confused, but quickly becoming annoyed.
"Captain?"
"I'll explain this later, Mr. Worf. Right now I have to deal with Q first."
"Oh, there's really nothing you can do, Sisko. We've already sold all the tickets for the games! It'll be you against O'Neill, Carter against O'Brien, the two doctors fighting each other in a game of brains, and of course our two musclemen battling each other! Almost all omnipotent beings are here to see this. Aren't you excited?"
"Actually, no. I refuse to fight against these people, and I'm sure Colonel O'Neill will agree with me."
"Absolutely," O'Neill agreed, folding his arms to emphasize his determination.
"Oh, that's too bad. I even made such cute costumes for you!" Another snap, and everyone was clad in short skirts and tight leather armour. Q himself was now dressed in what seemed to be the tunic of a Latin emperor, complete with a crown on top of his head.
Worf's eyes widened angrily when he realized that he was wearing a skirt. "Captain!"
Sisko blinked. There wasn't much he could do, was there? He looked at O'Neill for help, but the colonel seemed to be just as stunned as he was.
"Ah, Captain, don't despair. I'm offering you a way out. The prophets insisted on this; I think they like you. Anyway, if you can manage to get the Stargate to work again in the next two hours, then you are free to leave this world."
"Really? No strings attached?"
"No, none at all. You have my word."
Sisko lifted an eyebrow at the irony of this, but chose not to reply.
"All right, people, I guess we'd better solve that problem, then," O'Neill said.
"Absolutely, Colonel."
Together they approached the gate, and after a brief discussion of the problem and everyone's skills and strengths they started to work in pairs. Especially the doctors Jackson and Bashir seemed to get along really well. Both men enjoyed the chance to work with someone of equal intelligence, and were in a heated discussion within minutes. But O'Brien and Carter were also doing a great job together, discussing space anomalies, and quantum physics, circuits and warp drives. Every once in a while a laugh could be heard despite the difficult work they were doing, and together it didn't take them long to figure out what the problem was.
In the meantime, Teal'c and Worf stood quietly in background. There wasn't really much they could do to help the engineers and geniuses, so they simply watched them, ready to come to help if they were needed.
After a while Teal'c broke the silence: "Are you a warrior?"
"I am Klingon. We are a race of warriors!"
"I thought so. You have the stance of a fighter. My people are warriors as well. I am Teal'c," he said, tilting his head in greeting as he did so.
"And I am Worf, son of Mogh," Worf replied. He frowned as he regarded the other man. "Are you here to protect your teammates?"
In the background not far away O'Neill watched the others working together. "Do you think they'll make it?"
"I hope so. I don't particularly feel like playing gladiators for Q and his friends."
"No, not really."
At that moment, Carter approached them. "Sir, I think we're done!"
"Already? Well, then let's see if it works now!"
They walked over to the terminal.
"Sir, do you know the code for your wormhole," Carter asked.
Sisko shook his head in reply. "No, I'm afraid I don't. Is this going to be a problem?"
"Well, without the correct code we don't know where to send you!"
"Damn. What now?"
Suddenly "Jake" appeared in front of them. He seemed to have come straight from the amphitheatre, and he was holding a hotdog in one of his hands. "We will help the Sisko. You must not worry about the destination."
O'Neill stared at the boy. "Who are you?"
"We are the prophets."
"Oh, great, more omnipotent beings," O'Neill replied, annoyed.
"The Sisko must trust us." And "Jake" was gone.
"I'm not sure why I'm still trusting them, but I'd say we'd better do that. After all, the prophets are the only reason why we're not already fighting each other in the sand of that amphitheatre over there," he pointed at it, and they realized that the growing crowd was already chanting and cheering for the games to begin.
"Yes, Captain, but do I have to remind you that they are also responsible for us being here in the first place," Bashir chimed in.
"I know, I know, and you can trust me when I say that I'll make sure to discuss this matter with them as soon as were back on DS9. However, for now I say we should do what they told us."
O'Neill nodded: "Yeah, gotta agree with that. It's not like we have any other options, anyway. Daniel, just pick a random code. We will leave after you, Captain Sisko, that way we'll still be here to help you if it doesn't work.
"Thank you, Colonel."
They approached the gate, and as soon as Daniel had entered the code the Stargate came to life in a maelstrom of what looked like fresh water.
"Fascinating," Bashir said, as he watched the maelstrom collapse until it formed a wall of "water" in front of them.
"Let's go before they change their mind! Colonel, Major, Doctor, Teal'c, it was great working with you, although I would've preferred for this meeting to take place under different circumstances."
"Yeah, Captain, I couldn't agree any more. I'd really like to know why the hell they picked your people and mine to fight here. I guess we'll never know," O'Neill replied. "Well, have a good trip!"
"Thank you. Goodbye!" The other officers exchanged farewells as well, and then the four Starfleet officers carefully approached the gate, and a first careful touch of the surface of the gate they passed through the veil of water.
As soon as their bodies were in the gate, they were once more propelled forward. The feeling lasted only a few heartbeats, but Sisko once more believed to see stars rushing past him.
Then he was back in the seat of his shuttle. A bemused Bashir was standing behind him, next to Worf who seemed ready to strangle Q with his bare hands, and O'Brien was sitting on the seat next to him.
"Damn, what a trip! I guess Quark was right after all - this really was far more exciting than any of the other holoprograms he owns," O'Brien laughed, finally relaxing now that they were back home.
"So, how do we explain these skirts, if anyone asks," Bashir added, chuckling as well as he indicated their clothes that hadn't changed back to normal when they passed through the gate.
"Oh, my ... I'm sure Dax will get a blast out of this when she sees you, Worf," O'Brien replied.
The proud Klingon warrior merely growled in reply.
"Humans!"
"And that was the outcome of the latest game of intergalactic poker, also known as the game that cannot be named, because whoever tries to pronounce its name will go insane.
Oh, you would like to know the name of the game? Well, let me see if I can remember ...
It goes something like this: Qwe ... No. That wasn't quite right. Qwartz ... No. But I'm sure I'm getting close. Qawozr ... Ah, no. Qoauwerontz ...
Qwoiwennnndsoiwnnnnnnnnn ...
Qwoiweiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinoiweeeeeeeeeeeoiiii ... Qoweiouonnnnnnnnnnweoiujoooooooooooi ...
Quaweounweoitzwweoiuuuosioiwueroiuoddddddddddjwleijnbbbbwwesxd ...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"