Skeleton Key - Chapter Three: A Fuadaíodh
A/N: Sooo, um, yeah. It's been quite awhile since I've updated! Sorry 'bout that, kids. It's been rough! Hopefully, I won't take too long before the next chappie, but Denver Comic Con is closing in on me, and I'll have to work even more than usual. For now… enjoy a kinda short Chapter Three: A Fuadaíodh (Abducted)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
oOoOoOo
John has officially scared the living daylights out of his father. That cursed horse only listens to a five-year-old! Even Cillian was impressed.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
Patrick looked fondly at a photo of John and a monstrous horse he had named Marker. To this day, he couldn't figure out why his son was the only person who could ride the stallion. David could only get close enough to help John mount and dismount, and some grooming.
The next picture was taken a year before Kay died, a candid moment caught on a summer day at the ranch. Matching aloof expression on mother and son, and a fifteen-year-old David grinning for all he was worth. Patrick was thankful Kay's “siblings” had prepared all of them for the inevitable, yet the thought of her passing still caused heartache.
Kay Sheppard ran a tight ship when she was alive. She had the uncanny ability to be several places at once and know exactly what her boys needed.
Sitting at his desk, Patrick toyed with an old picture of his family. In the picture, Kay hugged both boys, each sharing a laugh while he snapped the shot. She had never let David feel like he wasn't her flesh and blood; Kay had entered the Sheppards’ lives seamlessly when he was four and never looked back.
“If you could see your boys now, Wanderer.”
A chime roused Patrick from his musings.
“Yes, Laura?”
“It's time for your meeting, Mister Sheppard.”
“On my way.”
Entering the large conference room, he glanced toward the end of the long table. The Sheppard boys were leaning over a notebook, sharing a laugh. John often doodled in the margins of his notes, on his desk blotter, on whiteboards... If John had a pen, any surface was in danger.
“Mornin' Dad,” David waved.
“Hey, Dad,” John smiled. “We've got a lot to cover today.”
“Well, boys, let's get started.”
oOoOoOo
Yesterday, the most ridiculous thing happened! A man dressed as a clown tried to take my John Kieran away! At first, I thought it was The Enlightened Ones; I’m sure they will come one day. But no, it was some idiot who was trying to curry favor with Patrick’s ex-wife. This (untranslatable) person, a former employee of Kincaid Electric, didn’t realize that there were two sons. My little man was very brave! But something strange happened. I heard him call out to me in my mind. No one in my entire clan could interact telepathically. I wonder about what he and Cillian talk about in the garden; I’ve never seen Cillian smile so much.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
Dismissing his employees, Patrick glanced around the large conference room, spotting his youngest son seated at the end of the table.
“John?” Sheppard frowned at the distracted man, noting his slightly pale complexion.
“Hey, dad.”
“I'm not sure why you bother to write anything down. You remember everything.”
The younger Sheppard smiled, amusement lighting his features. “I remember everything because,” John responded, closing his notebook. “I write everything down.”
Returning the smile, Patrick wondered what his life would be like if he had never met John's mother. “Come on, kiddo. Let's grab some lunch today. Your brother made reservations at Marlowe's.”
Shaking his head, John rose and checked his email on his phone. “Thanks anyway. I've got a meeting with my guys in an hour; R and D have something “really cool” to show me, apparently.”
Patrick could hear the quotation marks in his son's statement. “Kieran. You can't keep doing this.” He stepped in front of the thinner man. “I'm worried about you.”
“Dad, I'm fine; just tired.” Putting his phone away, John linked arms with his father, walking out of the conference room together. A beep sounded from his jacket pocket. “I'm sure that's Doctor Medina assuring me it'll knock my socks off.”
Groaning, Patrick tried to ignore his son's thin wrist. “It's not another plane is it?”
John chuckled, giving Patrick a squeeze. “Better. Well, okay, at least three of the five projects don't fly. This is a power conduit that can power a three-bedroom home for a year.”
A low whistle sounded in the corridor. They both turned around, seeing the third Sheppard strolling across the marble. “Sounds like you're trying for a Nobel.”
“Hey, Dave,” John drawled, greeting his older brother. “I would, but that guy McKay keeps stealing my thunder.” Another beep made John break away from his family. “The geeks are restless. I'll see you both later.”
Before Patrick could respond, John was gone. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the senior Sheppard turned to David. “See if you can convince him to join us for a meal at some point today.” The shrill sound of his own phone echoed in the lobby. “Or at least eat something besides crackers and coffee.”
It was David's turn to sigh. “I'll do what I can, dad, but you know how he gets when his mind is on something.”
“I know, I know.” Glancing at his phone, Patrick frowned. “I need to take this. See you in an hour.”
With a lopsided smile, David walked in the direction of his little brother's office. “An hour.”
oOoOoOo
Signing off on two of the five projects on his desk, Patrick decided when and how to talk to his youngest son. He couldn't stand to see John burying himself in his work; the kid was always coming up with something new. Granted, his ideas made the company millions, but John had little time for extra curricular activities.
One day, I'm gonna take away that pen of his, he thought.
Suddenly, a concussive sound rocked the building.
“What the -” Rounding the desk, Patrick exited his office into chaos. He snagged the nearest person. “What happened?”
The woman was dressed in a blue lab coat from John's department. “There - there was an explosion! And then there were men in black everywhere. I -”
“Dad! Are you all right?”
Patting the poor shocked woman on the shoulder, Sheppard sent her toward the exit. “I'm fine. We need to find John!”
Father and son fought the flow of escaping people as they descended the stairs. Opening the door on the sixth floor, Patrick had a very bad feeling growing in his gut. Shoving open the fire door, he saw papers drifting everywhere, sparks flying from every direction, and no sign of his son.
“John!” Both Sheppards called, searching frantically.
At the far end of the lab, they saw a man clad in black, waving at them. “Sorry, Mister Sheppard, but we need to borrow your son for a while.”
In a bright flash of light, he was gone.
Patrick Sheppard let out a gasp, fumbling for his phone. With trembling fingers, he dialed the one number he never thought he'd use. “Get me General Hammond.”
oOoOoO
Colonel Jack O'Neill was never one to eavesdrop, but today seemed like a good day to start. The general had been volleying between the red phone and the black phone all afternoon, his facial expressions told Jack everything he needed to know.
Glancing down the corridor, the colonel spotted a sergeant carrying a tray. Opportunity knocks, he thought.
“Hey, Walter. Lemme give you a hand.”
Eyeing the colonel suspiciously, Walter allowed him to take the tray. “You do know General Hammond isn't going to let you stay in there, right?”
Snorting, Jack opened the door, balancing the tray with one hand. Setting the coffee pot down first, the colonel placed the tray on the desk. He refilled the existing mug, then poured one for himself. With a flourish, Jack removed the silver cover from a plate, exposing a snack for Hammond.
The general frowned, then grunted into the red phone as Jack sat down. Glancing at the hovering sergeant, Hammond shooed him away.
Turning back to Harriman, Jack mouthed 'told you so' with a smirk.
“Yes, Mister President, I - Yessir.” Hanging up the phone, the general let out an exasperated sigh. He took a sip of hot coffee before looking at Jack. “I knew you'd find your way in here sooner or later.”
“Anytime I can watch you play phone jockey, George...” Setting his mug aside, Jack crossed his legs, getting comfortable. “What's up?”
Letting out another sigh, Hammond leaned back in his chair. “Short story? Thirty-two years ago, a half-Alterran boy was born. Today, someone kidnapped him.”
“Excuse me?” Warm brown eyes widened in shock. “You mean to tell me there's been a Skeleton Key wandering around and he hasn't been under our protection? That's -”
Hammond brought up a hand. “I realize how this looks, Jack. However, both his parents were very careful. They wanted him to have a pretty normal childhood.”
“Normal? Who is this kid?”
“Patrick Sheppard's son, John, is missing.”
Jack leaned forward in a huff. “As in Sheppard Industries? As in Patrick I've-just-invented-sunlight Sheppard?”
The general smiled, amused. “The very same. You know the regulating component on the naquada generators?”
“Yeah, McKay was all hot and bothered over it. Said they would last longer with it.”
“It was created by John Sheppard.” Hammond opened a file, showing the colonel a picture of the missing man.
“No wonder Rodney McKay was pissed,” Jack commented. The Sheppards were a fine looking bunch; rich, successful, smart, and enough clearance to be dangerous. “Any leads?” he asked finally.
“Witnesses said that men in black fatigues suddenly appeared and blew up the place. The diversion was enough to scatter security and take Sheppard.”
Rubbing his temple, Jack O'Neill wished he hadn't eavesdropped. “This just gets better and better. Trust?”
Frowning, Hammond rose. “It would seem so.”
“So what's with the phone hopscotch?”
Uncharacteristically, the general shoved his hands into his pockets, trying not to look worried. He was quite unsuccessful. “Apparently Russia has been out of contact with the IOA and the Pentagon for the better part of a week.”
“And they're just now getting around to telling us?”
Hammond glared at his colonel. “You know as well as I do the reason behind that.” Shaking his head, he sat back down. “Something is going on, and we are out of the loop for now.”
It was Jack's turn to pace. “What's next?”
“I think we need more intel. Assemble your team. I'll brief you tomorrow morning.”
“That long, huh?” Jack went through the roster in his head. Sure enough, his team was scattered all over the galaxy. “All right. It's gonna take some time to gather them anyway.”
“Something tells me,” the general sighed. “This is just the beginning of a very long fight.”
O'Neill gave a sloppy salute as he turned to leave. “And I really hate to see angry Ancients, sir.”
OoOoOoO
Keiran is so quiet these days; it's summer vacation, and he refuses to leave my side. He knows something is going on, and we've decided to tell him everything. I find him with Marker more often than not, 'flying' he says. I swear, that horse acts more like 6ft tall dog than a horse, following my boy around the grounds. No bridle, no reins, no saddle. Sometimes, they're a bit creepy together.
Tonight, after dinner, Patrick and I have planned ice cream and a small dose of truth. My boys are too young to be thinking about such matters.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
He was flying. He could tell by the gentle roll of the plane. Then the noise came, aggravating his headache further. Daring to open his eyes, John surveyed his surroundings. At least six men roamed the plane from his vantage point.
“He awake yet?”
“Yeah, I think he's coming around.”
A tap to his face jarred his aching head more than he cared to admit. Groaning, John opened his eyes wider.
“Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty. They didn't tell us you Ancient types were so frail.”
Frail? Blinking away the last bit of grogginess, John straightened in his chair. “I'm not frail.”
“Jess, I think he's pouting.”
“I think you're right.” Rising, Jess pulled out his sidearm. “Let's go, pretty boy. You need to freshen up.”
Standing was the last thing on John's mind, but he had no choice. Slowly, he made his way to the restroom, grateful to arrive without incident.
The mirror told him all he needed to know about his health. He looked like crap. Briefly, he wondered if this was the John his father saw each morning. Now he understood why the old man tried to drag him out of the office all the time.
Closing his eyes, John concentrated. Ever since he was a child, John could tell where he was and the time without looking. In fact, much to his brother's dismay, John never wore a watch or needed a map. Right now, he knew he had been missing for at least three hours.
Closing his eyes, he tried to establish his location.
Nothing.
Grabbing the edge of the sink, John let the dizziness wash over him.
He wasn't on a plane. He wasn't even on Earth.
oOoOoOo
Colonel Jack O’Neill paced the ‘gate room as the last chevron locked. The event horizon shimmered as a pale and worn figure stepped through, making his way down the embarkation ramp.
“Welcome back,” the colonel said, somewhat concerned.
“What’s this all about, Jack?” The other man unclipped his tac vest after handing off his weapon to the nearest person. “I think we found a new clue about Atlantis, and -”
Patting his friend on the shoulder, Jack smiled. “Ease up, Danny-boy. We’ve got bigger problem than Atlantis right now.”
Daniel Jackson huffed. “There’s always some sort of trouble, Jack. I don’t see why-”
“A Key went missing,” the colonel said quietly.
“- I have to rush back… What!” Halting immediately, Daniel’s eyes widened behind dirty lenses. “A Key? That means… He can’t…”
“Breathe, Daniel. We’re late for the briefing, so let’s go before Teal’c eats all the donuts.”
“There’s donuts?”
oOoOo
Halfway down the corridor, Sam Carter marched toward her tardy teammates. “Morning, sir. Daniel.”
The colonel pulled his hands out of his pockets, keeping them loose at his sides. “Carter.”
“Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson. Thank you for joining us.” Major Paul Davis opened his attaché, pulling out a laptop. “Yesterday at 1800 Zulu, John Sheppard was abducted from his office in Virginia.” Hitting a button, the monitor came alive with surveillance footage and photos. A silent explosion from the footage caught everyone’s attention; taking over the entire screen. People in black fatigues appeared in flashes, scrambling across the research campus. Less than ten minutes later, the men were gone, leaving behind smoke and chaos.
“They have Asgard tech?” someone asked amidst the gasps.
Jack O’Neill was livid. “Who authorized that stunt? They better not be one of ours.”
Frowning, Davis hit another key. Three faces popped up, all former military, all formerly SGC personnel. “These men have been spotted in the area within the past week, likely for recon. The speed in which this happened means they either had inside information, or -”
“No.” Sam Carter crossed her arms. “This is way too sloppy for The Trust.”
“What do you mean? They seemed pretty precise in their movements.” General Hammond said softly.
“Major? If I may?” Carter commandeered the laptop, tapping keys to bring up more screens. “Those three men are definitely working with The Trust, but it’s these two I’m worried about.”
“That is Liam Grant,” Daniel answered, leaning forward. “He’s been looking for Atlantis for as long as we have.”
“Right,” Carter replied, pointing to the second man. “And Colonel Westfield just returned from McMurdo.”
Major Davis cleared the screen, pulling up a new one. “The technology used is newer than anything we have.” More keystrokes bring another screen. “A security guard got a lucky shot, hitting one man, and this weapon was left at the scene.”
“Looks like one of those weapons from PX-336,” Carter remarked.
“PX-what?”
“PX-336. I believe Jack referred to it as Planet Mall,” Daniel supplied, filing away information. A pattern was forming, and it didn’t look good.
“Ah! Planet Mall. You can literally buy anything there.” Realization hit the colonel as caught his 2IC’s attention.
“On it, sir.” Carter opened her own laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. The ‘gate map highlighted many planets across the galaxy. “These are known planets where The Trust has stolen tech; none have the Asgard tech needed for the incident yesterday.”
“Which is where we come in,” Davis straightened, gesturing toward a silent man in the corner. “This Sergeant Vickers. He was our mole in The Trust until recently.”
The man in question raised a bandaged hand. “Lucky shot guy right here. For all intents and purposes, I died in that ambush. And I’d like to keep it that way.” Vickers moved forward to stand next Davis. With his good hand, Vickers hit several keys, the next screen showed blurry schematics.
“They built a ship?” General Hammond leaned forward, face pale.
Vickers frowned. “The Trust found a ship on Planet Mall, retrofitted with Asgard and Goa’uld tech. Worst of all, this ship may be either Ori or Ancient in origin.” He hit another key, this screen showing another blurry image of a ship, in space. Blending with a debris field.
“How did this happen? How is it we don’t know about a ship in space?” Jack stared back at the screen intensely, clenching his hands.
“Seems to me,” Carter sighed. “We would’ve never known, sir.”
“It’s true,” Vickers replied, crossing his arms. “If someone hadn't jumped the gun, kidnapped Sheppard two days sooner than originally planned.”
“The sloppy work made a big noise and they had to cut their losses,” O’Neill surmised.
Major Davis’ phone rang the same time Carter’s email pinged; while Davis stepped away, Carter opened her email. “Sir. We have a problem.”
“Yes, we do,” Davis chimed in.
“Well, spit it out, kids,” Jack said, leaning forward, hands clenched on the table.
“I just received an email from one of the scientists sent as support.”
“And how is Rodney?” the colonel smirked.
“Gone.”
“What?” General Hammond stiffened.
“She’s right, sir.” Davis pocketed his phone, turning his attention to the room. “It’s been confirmed; Rodney McKay was abducted an hour ago.”
“The same way Doctor Sheppard was taken,” Carter added.
With a sigh, Colonel O’Neill shook his head. “So what you’re telling me is that The Trust now has the two people who could possibly find Atlantis?” Glancing around the room, he already knew the answer. “Perfect.”
oOoOoOo
TBC
Oys. I guess I gotta type faster so I can get this out of the 5 notebooks where this fic is located.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
oOoOoOo
John has officially scared the living daylights out of his father. That cursed horse only listens to a five-year-old! Even Cillian was impressed.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
Patrick looked fondly at a photo of John and a monstrous horse he had named Marker. To this day, he couldn't figure out why his son was the only person who could ride the stallion. David could only get close enough to help John mount and dismount, and some grooming.
The next picture was taken a year before Kay died, a candid moment caught on a summer day at the ranch. Matching aloof expression on mother and son, and a fifteen-year-old David grinning for all he was worth. Patrick was thankful Kay's “siblings” had prepared all of them for the inevitable, yet the thought of her passing still caused heartache.
Kay Sheppard ran a tight ship when she was alive. She had the uncanny ability to be several places at once and know exactly what her boys needed.
Sitting at his desk, Patrick toyed with an old picture of his family. In the picture, Kay hugged both boys, each sharing a laugh while he snapped the shot. She had never let David feel like he wasn't her flesh and blood; Kay had entered the Sheppards’ lives seamlessly when he was four and never looked back.
“If you could see your boys now, Wanderer.”
A chime roused Patrick from his musings.
“Yes, Laura?”
“It's time for your meeting, Mister Sheppard.”
“On my way.”
Entering the large conference room, he glanced toward the end of the long table. The Sheppard boys were leaning over a notebook, sharing a laugh. John often doodled in the margins of his notes, on his desk blotter, on whiteboards... If John had a pen, any surface was in danger.
“Mornin' Dad,” David waved.
“Hey, Dad,” John smiled. “We've got a lot to cover today.”
“Well, boys, let's get started.”
oOoOoOo
Yesterday, the most ridiculous thing happened! A man dressed as a clown tried to take my John Kieran away! At first, I thought it was The Enlightened Ones; I’m sure they will come one day. But no, it was some idiot who was trying to curry favor with Patrick’s ex-wife. This (untranslatable) person, a former employee of Kincaid Electric, didn’t realize that there were two sons. My little man was very brave! But something strange happened. I heard him call out to me in my mind. No one in my entire clan could interact telepathically. I wonder about what he and Cillian talk about in the garden; I’ve never seen Cillian smile so much.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
Dismissing his employees, Patrick glanced around the large conference room, spotting his youngest son seated at the end of the table.
“John?” Sheppard frowned at the distracted man, noting his slightly pale complexion.
“Hey, dad.”
“I'm not sure why you bother to write anything down. You remember everything.”
The younger Sheppard smiled, amusement lighting his features. “I remember everything because,” John responded, closing his notebook. “I write everything down.”
Returning the smile, Patrick wondered what his life would be like if he had never met John's mother. “Come on, kiddo. Let's grab some lunch today. Your brother made reservations at Marlowe's.”
Shaking his head, John rose and checked his email on his phone. “Thanks anyway. I've got a meeting with my guys in an hour; R and D have something “really cool” to show me, apparently.”
Patrick could hear the quotation marks in his son's statement. “Kieran. You can't keep doing this.” He stepped in front of the thinner man. “I'm worried about you.”
“Dad, I'm fine; just tired.” Putting his phone away, John linked arms with his father, walking out of the conference room together. A beep sounded from his jacket pocket. “I'm sure that's Doctor Medina assuring me it'll knock my socks off.”
Groaning, Patrick tried to ignore his son's thin wrist. “It's not another plane is it?”
John chuckled, giving Patrick a squeeze. “Better. Well, okay, at least three of the five projects don't fly. This is a power conduit that can power a three-bedroom home for a year.”
A low whistle sounded in the corridor. They both turned around, seeing the third Sheppard strolling across the marble. “Sounds like you're trying for a Nobel.”
“Hey, Dave,” John drawled, greeting his older brother. “I would, but that guy McKay keeps stealing my thunder.” Another beep made John break away from his family. “The geeks are restless. I'll see you both later.”
Before Patrick could respond, John was gone. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the senior Sheppard turned to David. “See if you can convince him to join us for a meal at some point today.” The shrill sound of his own phone echoed in the lobby. “Or at least eat something besides crackers and coffee.”
It was David's turn to sigh. “I'll do what I can, dad, but you know how he gets when his mind is on something.”
“I know, I know.” Glancing at his phone, Patrick frowned. “I need to take this. See you in an hour.”
With a lopsided smile, David walked in the direction of his little brother's office. “An hour.”
oOoOoOo
Signing off on two of the five projects on his desk, Patrick decided when and how to talk to his youngest son. He couldn't stand to see John burying himself in his work; the kid was always coming up with something new. Granted, his ideas made the company millions, but John had little time for extra curricular activities.
One day, I'm gonna take away that pen of his, he thought.
Suddenly, a concussive sound rocked the building.
“What the -” Rounding the desk, Patrick exited his office into chaos. He snagged the nearest person. “What happened?”
The woman was dressed in a blue lab coat from John's department. “There - there was an explosion! And then there were men in black everywhere. I -”
“Dad! Are you all right?”
Patting the poor shocked woman on the shoulder, Sheppard sent her toward the exit. “I'm fine. We need to find John!”
Father and son fought the flow of escaping people as they descended the stairs. Opening the door on the sixth floor, Patrick had a very bad feeling growing in his gut. Shoving open the fire door, he saw papers drifting everywhere, sparks flying from every direction, and no sign of his son.
“John!” Both Sheppards called, searching frantically.
At the far end of the lab, they saw a man clad in black, waving at them. “Sorry, Mister Sheppard, but we need to borrow your son for a while.”
In a bright flash of light, he was gone.
Patrick Sheppard let out a gasp, fumbling for his phone. With trembling fingers, he dialed the one number he never thought he'd use. “Get me General Hammond.”
oOoOoO
Colonel Jack O'Neill was never one to eavesdrop, but today seemed like a good day to start. The general had been volleying between the red phone and the black phone all afternoon, his facial expressions told Jack everything he needed to know.
Glancing down the corridor, the colonel spotted a sergeant carrying a tray. Opportunity knocks, he thought.
“Hey, Walter. Lemme give you a hand.”
Eyeing the colonel suspiciously, Walter allowed him to take the tray. “You do know General Hammond isn't going to let you stay in there, right?”
Snorting, Jack opened the door, balancing the tray with one hand. Setting the coffee pot down first, the colonel placed the tray on the desk. He refilled the existing mug, then poured one for himself. With a flourish, Jack removed the silver cover from a plate, exposing a snack for Hammond.
The general frowned, then grunted into the red phone as Jack sat down. Glancing at the hovering sergeant, Hammond shooed him away.
Turning back to Harriman, Jack mouthed 'told you so' with a smirk.
“Yes, Mister President, I - Yessir.” Hanging up the phone, the general let out an exasperated sigh. He took a sip of hot coffee before looking at Jack. “I knew you'd find your way in here sooner or later.”
“Anytime I can watch you play phone jockey, George...” Setting his mug aside, Jack crossed his legs, getting comfortable. “What's up?”
Letting out another sigh, Hammond leaned back in his chair. “Short story? Thirty-two years ago, a half-Alterran boy was born. Today, someone kidnapped him.”
“Excuse me?” Warm brown eyes widened in shock. “You mean to tell me there's been a Skeleton Key wandering around and he hasn't been under our protection? That's -”
Hammond brought up a hand. “I realize how this looks, Jack. However, both his parents were very careful. They wanted him to have a pretty normal childhood.”
“Normal? Who is this kid?”
“Patrick Sheppard's son, John, is missing.”
Jack leaned forward in a huff. “As in Sheppard Industries? As in Patrick I've-just-invented-sunlight Sheppard?”
The general smiled, amused. “The very same. You know the regulating component on the naquada generators?”
“Yeah, McKay was all hot and bothered over it. Said they would last longer with it.”
“It was created by John Sheppard.” Hammond opened a file, showing the colonel a picture of the missing man.
“No wonder Rodney McKay was pissed,” Jack commented. The Sheppards were a fine looking bunch; rich, successful, smart, and enough clearance to be dangerous. “Any leads?” he asked finally.
“Witnesses said that men in black fatigues suddenly appeared and blew up the place. The diversion was enough to scatter security and take Sheppard.”
Rubbing his temple, Jack O'Neill wished he hadn't eavesdropped. “This just gets better and better. Trust?”
Frowning, Hammond rose. “It would seem so.”
“So what's with the phone hopscotch?”
Uncharacteristically, the general shoved his hands into his pockets, trying not to look worried. He was quite unsuccessful. “Apparently Russia has been out of contact with the IOA and the Pentagon for the better part of a week.”
“And they're just now getting around to telling us?”
Hammond glared at his colonel. “You know as well as I do the reason behind that.” Shaking his head, he sat back down. “Something is going on, and we are out of the loop for now.”
It was Jack's turn to pace. “What's next?”
“I think we need more intel. Assemble your team. I'll brief you tomorrow morning.”
“That long, huh?” Jack went through the roster in his head. Sure enough, his team was scattered all over the galaxy. “All right. It's gonna take some time to gather them anyway.”
“Something tells me,” the general sighed. “This is just the beginning of a very long fight.”
O'Neill gave a sloppy salute as he turned to leave. “And I really hate to see angry Ancients, sir.”
OoOoOoO
Keiran is so quiet these days; it's summer vacation, and he refuses to leave my side. He knows something is going on, and we've decided to tell him everything. I find him with Marker more often than not, 'flying' he says. I swear, that horse acts more like 6ft tall dog than a horse, following my boy around the grounds. No bridle, no reins, no saddle. Sometimes, they're a bit creepy together.
Tonight, after dinner, Patrick and I have planned ice cream and a small dose of truth. My boys are too young to be thinking about such matters.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
He was flying. He could tell by the gentle roll of the plane. Then the noise came, aggravating his headache further. Daring to open his eyes, John surveyed his surroundings. At least six men roamed the plane from his vantage point.
“He awake yet?”
“Yeah, I think he's coming around.”
A tap to his face jarred his aching head more than he cared to admit. Groaning, John opened his eyes wider.
“Well, hello, Sleeping Beauty. They didn't tell us you Ancient types were so frail.”
Frail? Blinking away the last bit of grogginess, John straightened in his chair. “I'm not frail.”
“Jess, I think he's pouting.”
“I think you're right.” Rising, Jess pulled out his sidearm. “Let's go, pretty boy. You need to freshen up.”
Standing was the last thing on John's mind, but he had no choice. Slowly, he made his way to the restroom, grateful to arrive without incident.
The mirror told him all he needed to know about his health. He looked like crap. Briefly, he wondered if this was the John his father saw each morning. Now he understood why the old man tried to drag him out of the office all the time.
Closing his eyes, John concentrated. Ever since he was a child, John could tell where he was and the time without looking. In fact, much to his brother's dismay, John never wore a watch or needed a map. Right now, he knew he had been missing for at least three hours.
Closing his eyes, he tried to establish his location.
Nothing.
Grabbing the edge of the sink, John let the dizziness wash over him.
He wasn't on a plane. He wasn't even on Earth.
oOoOoOo
Colonel Jack O’Neill paced the ‘gate room as the last chevron locked. The event horizon shimmered as a pale and worn figure stepped through, making his way down the embarkation ramp.
“Welcome back,” the colonel said, somewhat concerned.
“What’s this all about, Jack?” The other man unclipped his tac vest after handing off his weapon to the nearest person. “I think we found a new clue about Atlantis, and -”
Patting his friend on the shoulder, Jack smiled. “Ease up, Danny-boy. We’ve got bigger problem than Atlantis right now.”
Daniel Jackson huffed. “There’s always some sort of trouble, Jack. I don’t see why-”
“A Key went missing,” the colonel said quietly.
“- I have to rush back… What!” Halting immediately, Daniel’s eyes widened behind dirty lenses. “A Key? That means… He can’t…”
“Breathe, Daniel. We’re late for the briefing, so let’s go before Teal’c eats all the donuts.”
“There’s donuts?”
oOoOo
Halfway down the corridor, Sam Carter marched toward her tardy teammates. “Morning, sir. Daniel.”
The colonel pulled his hands out of his pockets, keeping them loose at his sides. “Carter.”
“Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson. Thank you for joining us.” Major Paul Davis opened his attaché, pulling out a laptop. “Yesterday at 1800 Zulu, John Sheppard was abducted from his office in Virginia.” Hitting a button, the monitor came alive with surveillance footage and photos. A silent explosion from the footage caught everyone’s attention; taking over the entire screen. People in black fatigues appeared in flashes, scrambling across the research campus. Less than ten minutes later, the men were gone, leaving behind smoke and chaos.
“They have Asgard tech?” someone asked amidst the gasps.
Jack O’Neill was livid. “Who authorized that stunt? They better not be one of ours.”
Frowning, Davis hit another key. Three faces popped up, all former military, all formerly SGC personnel. “These men have been spotted in the area within the past week, likely for recon. The speed in which this happened means they either had inside information, or -”
“No.” Sam Carter crossed her arms. “This is way too sloppy for The Trust.”
“What do you mean? They seemed pretty precise in their movements.” General Hammond said softly.
“Major? If I may?” Carter commandeered the laptop, tapping keys to bring up more screens. “Those three men are definitely working with The Trust, but it’s these two I’m worried about.”
“That is Liam Grant,” Daniel answered, leaning forward. “He’s been looking for Atlantis for as long as we have.”
“Right,” Carter replied, pointing to the second man. “And Colonel Westfield just returned from McMurdo.”
Major Davis cleared the screen, pulling up a new one. “The technology used is newer than anything we have.” More keystrokes bring another screen. “A security guard got a lucky shot, hitting one man, and this weapon was left at the scene.”
“Looks like one of those weapons from PX-336,” Carter remarked.
“PX-what?”
“PX-336. I believe Jack referred to it as Planet Mall,” Daniel supplied, filing away information. A pattern was forming, and it didn’t look good.
“Ah! Planet Mall. You can literally buy anything there.” Realization hit the colonel as caught his 2IC’s attention.
“On it, sir.” Carter opened her own laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. The ‘gate map highlighted many planets across the galaxy. “These are known planets where The Trust has stolen tech; none have the Asgard tech needed for the incident yesterday.”
“Which is where we come in,” Davis straightened, gesturing toward a silent man in the corner. “This Sergeant Vickers. He was our mole in The Trust until recently.”
The man in question raised a bandaged hand. “Lucky shot guy right here. For all intents and purposes, I died in that ambush. And I’d like to keep it that way.” Vickers moved forward to stand next Davis. With his good hand, Vickers hit several keys, the next screen showed blurry schematics.
“They built a ship?” General Hammond leaned forward, face pale.
Vickers frowned. “The Trust found a ship on Planet Mall, retrofitted with Asgard and Goa’uld tech. Worst of all, this ship may be either Ori or Ancient in origin.” He hit another key, this screen showing another blurry image of a ship, in space. Blending with a debris field.
“How did this happen? How is it we don’t know about a ship in space?” Jack stared back at the screen intensely, clenching his hands.
“Seems to me,” Carter sighed. “We would’ve never known, sir.”
“It’s true,” Vickers replied, crossing his arms. “If someone hadn't jumped the gun, kidnapped Sheppard two days sooner than originally planned.”
“The sloppy work made a big noise and they had to cut their losses,” O’Neill surmised.
Major Davis’ phone rang the same time Carter’s email pinged; while Davis stepped away, Carter opened her email. “Sir. We have a problem.”
“Yes, we do,” Davis chimed in.
“Well, spit it out, kids,” Jack said, leaning forward, hands clenched on the table.
“I just received an email from one of the scientists sent as support.”
“And how is Rodney?” the colonel smirked.
“Gone.”
“What?” General Hammond stiffened.
“She’s right, sir.” Davis pocketed his phone, turning his attention to the room. “It’s been confirmed; Rodney McKay was abducted an hour ago.”
“The same way Doctor Sheppard was taken,” Carter added.
With a sigh, Colonel O’Neill shook his head. “So what you’re telling me is that The Trust now has the two people who could possibly find Atlantis?” Glancing around the room, he already knew the answer. “Perfect.”
oOoOoOo
TBC
Oys. I guess I gotta type faster so I can get this out of the 5 notebooks where this fic is located.