Skeleton Key - Chapter Four: Inntreadh
A/N: Holy tomatoes. Has it really been that long? Another Denver Comic Con in the bag. Yay! Meanwhile, RL has slapped me around so badly. I hate this chapter. It has kept me up at night, and I can't seem to make it right. It'll get better. I think. Anyhow, here is the fourth installment of The Skeleton Key.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
oOoOoOo
Today, I found out that Keiran understands our native tongue. Apparently, Cillian has been educating my son behind my back. As high as he can reach, the walls of his room are covered in nursery rhymes written in a dead language. And of course, John has told me his marker no longer writes.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
John Sheppard opened eyes he was sure he hadn't closed. Sitting up slowly, he took in the sparsely furnished, small quarters. A tiny window portside showed a blanket of stars. Standing, John peered out of the window, apprehension slowing his movements.
And it took his breath away.
Since he was a child, he had only dreamed of this moment. His mother had filled his head with wild tales of space travel, evil planets, and highly intelligent people who lived on a floating city.
Earth hung like a giant, mostly blue marble just as the pictures show. But the doctored photos don't show the amount of satellites orbiting the planet, various debris, or the space station.
On a ship, huh? So that's how they can get away with this, John thought, stretching long limbs. Wandering away from the window, he glanced around the room. A slight tingling in the back of his mind reminded John of a gift his mother gave him when he was ten. Curious, John touched a wall. Immediately, a display lit up the blank wall. “Wow,” he whispered, fascinated by the detail on the translucent screen. “How -”
The display changed, giving him a breakdown of electronic components and schematics.
“Thanks.” A shiver ran up John’s spine that felt like amusement. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Of course not, Chosen,” a voice answered.
“Hmm. Are you reading my mind?”
“In a sense. Your ancestry allows mental interaction with this interface.”
Intrigued, John returned to his bunk, gazing at the display. “My ancestry?”
The display winked then returned, spreading screens across the wall. He gasped at the picture of his mother. “You are of Alteran descent. Caoilfhionn, O’Braion clan, is your mother. She came from a place known to Terra as Atlantis.”
“Yeah… Is this why I was taken? Because my mother was from this Atlantis place?”
“They desire to find Lantea.”
“Why?” The grogginess had finally worn off; John shook away the remaining cobwebs fogging his brain. “My mother said it was destroyed thousands of years ago, so what’s the point?”
“True. I am one of the remaining ships from the final migration.”
“Really?” So many questions popped into his head at once, causing the display to change repeatedly. How old was my mother? How old is this ship? Were they in stasis?
“We have limited time, Chosen. It is possible your mother was approximately nine hundred years of age. It is also possible she was either Ascended or in stasis, however it is unclear. I have no access to those records.” A hull classification symbol flashed on the screen, along with a date of record.
John whistled in awe. “Ten thousand years?” Reading the strange letters, John noticed the ship’s name. “Fidicinus.”
“Yes, Chosen?”
“My Latin is kinda rusty. Means lute, right?” John smiled wistfully at the lighted display.
“Correct.”
“Hmm. I think I'll call you Lucy.” His wistful expression dimmed as he felt the ship change course. Glancing through the porthole, John saw the most extraordinary sight: Jupiter.
“Yes, Chosen. A course has been set.”
They're running, he thought. But where to?
“Unknown. A hypothesis.”
“I'm all ears.”
The screen flashed, revealing another picture of a very familiar face. “Approximately thirty-nine minutes, twenty seconds ago, this man was also abducted, and brought to this vessel. Doctor Rodney McKay -”
John snorted. “I am well aware who Rodney McKay is, Lucy.” Marveling at the Gossamer Ring of Jupiter, John pressed his nose against the cool glass. Digging his hands into his pockets, he found a cell phone. One of three, to be exact, and this was his personal phone. “Sorry, Dad,” he whispered.
Sighing, he looked toward the display. “So McKay is on this ship?”
“Yes, Chosen.”
“What is all this Chosen nonsense anyway?”
The display flashed again, scrolling text on one side, illustrations on the other. “Many texts say that the Alterans would return to Lantea when the threat has passed. It is said that a Descended one would be an ambassador to the new generations, leading them back to the planet of origin.” His mother's picture appeared again, dressed in a tunic similar to his aunt and uncle.
“And you think that's me.”
“Correct, Chosen.”
“Look, I'm not a Chosen. Just John.” Reaching out to touch the wall, John felt his agitation lessen. I should be royally freaking out right now, he thought. Why am I not freaking out?
“It is possible that your interface with this ship is comforting to you.”
“Genetics?”
“Indeed, John.”
Shifting, away from the wall, John sat on the bed. “Why now?”
“Chosen?”
“Why wait until now? What does this have to do with me and McKay?”
A long pause. “A revised hypothesis, John.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“By your tone, I sense you are using another hyperbole.”
“Indeed, Lucy.” Leaning back on the headboard, John closed his eyes.
“The current occupants of this vessel are quite determined to travel to Lantea. This set of circumstances has not occurred in nearly two millennia. Technology, timing, fortuitous happenstance. All of these key factors converged three days, ten hours ago.”
“Me, Rodney McKay, and a ship bound for deep space.” Frowning, John opened his eyes. “Can you send a communication to Earth?”
“It is possible, however, it will take 8.625 days to reach its destination.”
“All right, Lucy. Take a memo.”
When he was much younger, John took an interest in telegraphy. He was obsessed to the point of finally building his own, subsequently driving his older brother crazy. Inventing his own system of clicks, John taught David, who finally understood the insanity of creating your own alphabet.
Reciting a series of clicks, he hoped David would be somewhere near to translate. “Can you send that as a feedback loop?”
“Yes, John. There is a relay post located on the planet known as Mars, and also an outpost on the continent of Antarctica. The message will take as many as 12 days to reach its destination. Will this be acceptable?”
“It’ll have to do.” Sighing, John glanced out the porthole window again. “Who else knows about you?”
“No one, John. At present, you are the only one with a gene powerful enough to use the interface.”
“I like those odds.”
“Wait!” A very familiar voice echoed through the corridor. “You can't just steal a person!”
John smiled. Maybe I’ll be home sooner rather than later, he thought.
oOoOoOo
“Gallia! Calm down. I have everyone I know working to find him!” Patrick Sheppard's voice resonated through his closed office door.
“Who's in there?”
“I dunno. I've been here all morning.” Monica fretfully straightened her desk. “There's no one on the phone, and no one has entered the office except Mister Sheppard.”
“Patrick. I cannot feel him anymore! It's as if he's -”
“He's not dead, dammit!”
Monica dropped the papers she held. Patrick Sheppard had never raised his voice like that to anyone!
Three days ago, the youngest Sheppard was taken. No ransom, no one claiming responsibility. No leads either, according to the police. Even though the building was being repaired, there was still a gaping hole. John Sheppard's disappearance was taking its toll on his father.
“Hey, Monica. Are you okay?” the other asked, noticing her glum expression. He bent to gather the scattered invoices.
“Yeah, Roger,” she replied, collecting the sheets of paper. “I'll be fine.”
oOoOoOoOo
“How can he be gone and yet still alive?”
Patrick sat down heavily next to the woman in white and beige. “There is an organization with the technology and means to -”
“Do not try to distract me, Patrick!” Gallia sighed, trying to calm herself. “I have heard that these humans have stolen countless artifacts and weapons from various planets in this galaxy. Evidently, they have found a way to hide Kieran from us.”
“True, but there’s also some good guys looking for him, too.” Rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, Patrick leaned forward. “Where's Kay?”
“She cannot come; it is doubtful the others would let her go anyway.” Slouching back against the cushions, the Alteran gave an undignified cry of frustration. “We should have known this would happen someday. We should have foreseen -”
“Seen what? Done what? Hide him away from world? Never let him be born? Let Cillian take John away to some faraway planet only to have the Ori after him?” Standing, Patrick began to pace the length of his office. “This should’ve been the one time those Ascended creeps lifted their non-interference crap.”
“As one of those creeps, I agree. We all would like our progeny to see and learn from Atlantis; the time is right. But it must happen naturally.”
Stopping short, Sheppard glared at his friend. “At the cost of my son’s life?”
Sighing again, Gallia gazed out the window. “It is my hope it will not come to that.”
oOoOoOo
“And you thought it was a great idea to steal the smartest man in this galaxy to make him do your homework?”
Doctor Rodney McKay was just getting started.
Well aware of the tantrum the mercurial physicist was about to lodge, Liam Grant motioned a medical doctor forward. “I assure you, Rodney, we know exactly whom we’ve taken. We’re giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, finding the mythical Atlantis.”
“Atlantis? You mean the supposed most intelligent civilization who built their city in the middle of the ocean only to have it sink? What do you need a spaceship for? Atlantis is on Earth, morons.” McKay was swiftly losing his composure as he glimpsed Saturn.
“You know as well as I, that the real Atlantis resides in another galaxy.” Smiling, Grant circled the other man. “In fact, I happen to know that you've been working closely with the SGC in finding the address.”
Lips thinned, McKay's mouth became a straight line. “That project was tabled years ago, and you know that, too, I'm sure.”
Tsking, Grant folded his arms across his chest. “I have it on good authority that in your spare time, you wrote an algorithm that gave you the top ten likely addresses for Atlantis. You also have been developing a way to recharge the last remaining ZPM.”
Mirroring the crossed arms, McKay let a smirk grace his lips. “That’s not front page news, Liam. I’ve been working on that since we found the damn thing. Even tried my hand at creating a similar device, but Sheppard Industries got the patent first.”
Grant’s smirk became a wolfish grin. “I bet you’re dying to know how they got there first.”
“I know why they’re first… Doctor John Sheppard.” Uncrossing his arms, McKay allowed them to fall to his sides. “Now… What. Do. You. Want.”
Grant’s wolf-like grin became a touch maniacal as he broadly gestured around him. “We have a means to get to Pegasus, now we just need a destination.”
“Oh. Is that all? Look, even if I bought into your crazy, searching for a needle in a stack of needles isn’t exactly the way I want to spend my days!” Turning to the nearest panel, the physicist pressed a series of buttons, bringing up a display. “Hybrid tech. I’m assuming Ancient and Asgard. Now,” he murmured to himself. “Where are the ‘gateships?” A beep sounded. “Ah.”
Following at a leisurely pace, Grant shoved his hands into his pockets. “You won’t be able to fly them. We’ve tied. However, the fact that you so easily accessed that information reminds me how vital you are for this mission.”
Rodney halted his steps. “Mission? This is not a simple step-through-the-‘gate meet and greet. I-”
“Enough,” Grant said quietly. Two soldiers appeared on either side of the captured man. “I thought you of all people would share my vision of a new exploratory opportunity, Doctor McKay.” Turning to the soldiers, Grant frowned. “Please show our guest to his room. Then I’d like to meet with our other guest.”
“You can’t do this, Grant! If the IOA doesn’t fry you, the SGC will destroy you!” Rodney yelled, resisting all the way. “You can't just steal a person!”
They stopped in front of one of the many doors on this level. It slid open revealing sparsely furnished quarters; Rodney was used to the military cots and thin blankets. “Fantastic,” he muttered, entering the room.
One of the soldiers waved a hand over an illuminated plate on the opposite door. “Sheppard. Let’s go.”
Spinning around, McKay caught a glimpse of familiar spiky dark hair, and an amused smile. “Hello, Rodney.”
oOoOoOo
TBC
Ugh. However, now we can get this party started...
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
oOoOoOo
Today, I found out that Keiran understands our native tongue. Apparently, Cillian has been educating my son behind my back. As high as he can reach, the walls of his room are covered in nursery rhymes written in a dead language. And of course, John has told me his marker no longer writes.
From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson
John Sheppard opened eyes he was sure he hadn't closed. Sitting up slowly, he took in the sparsely furnished, small quarters. A tiny window portside showed a blanket of stars. Standing, John peered out of the window, apprehension slowing his movements.
And it took his breath away.
Since he was a child, he had only dreamed of this moment. His mother had filled his head with wild tales of space travel, evil planets, and highly intelligent people who lived on a floating city.
Earth hung like a giant, mostly blue marble just as the pictures show. But the doctored photos don't show the amount of satellites orbiting the planet, various debris, or the space station.
On a ship, huh? So that's how they can get away with this, John thought, stretching long limbs. Wandering away from the window, he glanced around the room. A slight tingling in the back of his mind reminded John of a gift his mother gave him when he was ten. Curious, John touched a wall. Immediately, a display lit up the blank wall. “Wow,” he whispered, fascinated by the detail on the translucent screen. “How -”
The display changed, giving him a breakdown of electronic components and schematics.
“Thanks.” A shiver ran up John’s spine that felt like amusement. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Of course not, Chosen,” a voice answered.
“Hmm. Are you reading my mind?”
“In a sense. Your ancestry allows mental interaction with this interface.”
Intrigued, John returned to his bunk, gazing at the display. “My ancestry?”
The display winked then returned, spreading screens across the wall. He gasped at the picture of his mother. “You are of Alteran descent. Caoilfhionn, O’Braion clan, is your mother. She came from a place known to Terra as Atlantis.”
“Yeah… Is this why I was taken? Because my mother was from this Atlantis place?”
“They desire to find Lantea.”
“Why?” The grogginess had finally worn off; John shook away the remaining cobwebs fogging his brain. “My mother said it was destroyed thousands of years ago, so what’s the point?”
“True. I am one of the remaining ships from the final migration.”
“Really?” So many questions popped into his head at once, causing the display to change repeatedly. How old was my mother? How old is this ship? Were they in stasis?
“We have limited time, Chosen. It is possible your mother was approximately nine hundred years of age. It is also possible she was either Ascended or in stasis, however it is unclear. I have no access to those records.” A hull classification symbol flashed on the screen, along with a date of record.
John whistled in awe. “Ten thousand years?” Reading the strange letters, John noticed the ship’s name. “Fidicinus.”
“Yes, Chosen?”
“My Latin is kinda rusty. Means lute, right?” John smiled wistfully at the lighted display.
“Correct.”
“Hmm. I think I'll call you Lucy.” His wistful expression dimmed as he felt the ship change course. Glancing through the porthole, John saw the most extraordinary sight: Jupiter.
“Yes, Chosen. A course has been set.”
They're running, he thought. But where to?
“Unknown. A hypothesis.”
“I'm all ears.”
The screen flashed, revealing another picture of a very familiar face. “Approximately thirty-nine minutes, twenty seconds ago, this man was also abducted, and brought to this vessel. Doctor Rodney McKay -”
John snorted. “I am well aware who Rodney McKay is, Lucy.” Marveling at the Gossamer Ring of Jupiter, John pressed his nose against the cool glass. Digging his hands into his pockets, he found a cell phone. One of three, to be exact, and this was his personal phone. “Sorry, Dad,” he whispered.
Sighing, he looked toward the display. “So McKay is on this ship?”
“Yes, Chosen.”
“What is all this Chosen nonsense anyway?”
The display flashed again, scrolling text on one side, illustrations on the other. “Many texts say that the Alterans would return to Lantea when the threat has passed. It is said that a Descended one would be an ambassador to the new generations, leading them back to the planet of origin.” His mother's picture appeared again, dressed in a tunic similar to his aunt and uncle.
“And you think that's me.”
“Correct, Chosen.”
“Look, I'm not a Chosen. Just John.” Reaching out to touch the wall, John felt his agitation lessen. I should be royally freaking out right now, he thought. Why am I not freaking out?
“It is possible that your interface with this ship is comforting to you.”
“Genetics?”
“Indeed, John.”
Shifting, away from the wall, John sat on the bed. “Why now?”
“Chosen?”
“Why wait until now? What does this have to do with me and McKay?”
A long pause. “A revised hypothesis, John.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“By your tone, I sense you are using another hyperbole.”
“Indeed, Lucy.” Leaning back on the headboard, John closed his eyes.
“The current occupants of this vessel are quite determined to travel to Lantea. This set of circumstances has not occurred in nearly two millennia. Technology, timing, fortuitous happenstance. All of these key factors converged three days, ten hours ago.”
“Me, Rodney McKay, and a ship bound for deep space.” Frowning, John opened his eyes. “Can you send a communication to Earth?”
“It is possible, however, it will take 8.625 days to reach its destination.”
“All right, Lucy. Take a memo.”
When he was much younger, John took an interest in telegraphy. He was obsessed to the point of finally building his own, subsequently driving his older brother crazy. Inventing his own system of clicks, John taught David, who finally understood the insanity of creating your own alphabet.
Reciting a series of clicks, he hoped David would be somewhere near to translate. “Can you send that as a feedback loop?”
“Yes, John. There is a relay post located on the planet known as Mars, and also an outpost on the continent of Antarctica. The message will take as many as 12 days to reach its destination. Will this be acceptable?”
“It’ll have to do.” Sighing, John glanced out the porthole window again. “Who else knows about you?”
“No one, John. At present, you are the only one with a gene powerful enough to use the interface.”
“I like those odds.”
“Wait!” A very familiar voice echoed through the corridor. “You can't just steal a person!”
John smiled. Maybe I’ll be home sooner rather than later, he thought.
oOoOoOo
“Gallia! Calm down. I have everyone I know working to find him!” Patrick Sheppard's voice resonated through his closed office door.
“Who's in there?”
“I dunno. I've been here all morning.” Monica fretfully straightened her desk. “There's no one on the phone, and no one has entered the office except Mister Sheppard.”
“Patrick. I cannot feel him anymore! It's as if he's -”
“He's not dead, dammit!”
Monica dropped the papers she held. Patrick Sheppard had never raised his voice like that to anyone!
Three days ago, the youngest Sheppard was taken. No ransom, no one claiming responsibility. No leads either, according to the police. Even though the building was being repaired, there was still a gaping hole. John Sheppard's disappearance was taking its toll on his father.
“Hey, Monica. Are you okay?” the other asked, noticing her glum expression. He bent to gather the scattered invoices.
“Yeah, Roger,” she replied, collecting the sheets of paper. “I'll be fine.”
oOoOoOoOo
“How can he be gone and yet still alive?”
Patrick sat down heavily next to the woman in white and beige. “There is an organization with the technology and means to -”
“Do not try to distract me, Patrick!” Gallia sighed, trying to calm herself. “I have heard that these humans have stolen countless artifacts and weapons from various planets in this galaxy. Evidently, they have found a way to hide Kieran from us.”
“True, but there’s also some good guys looking for him, too.” Rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, Patrick leaned forward. “Where's Kay?”
“She cannot come; it is doubtful the others would let her go anyway.” Slouching back against the cushions, the Alteran gave an undignified cry of frustration. “We should have known this would happen someday. We should have foreseen -”
“Seen what? Done what? Hide him away from world? Never let him be born? Let Cillian take John away to some faraway planet only to have the Ori after him?” Standing, Patrick began to pace the length of his office. “This should’ve been the one time those Ascended creeps lifted their non-interference crap.”
“As one of those creeps, I agree. We all would like our progeny to see and learn from Atlantis; the time is right. But it must happen naturally.”
Stopping short, Sheppard glared at his friend. “At the cost of my son’s life?”
Sighing again, Gallia gazed out the window. “It is my hope it will not come to that.”
oOoOoOo
“And you thought it was a great idea to steal the smartest man in this galaxy to make him do your homework?”
Doctor Rodney McKay was just getting started.
Well aware of the tantrum the mercurial physicist was about to lodge, Liam Grant motioned a medical doctor forward. “I assure you, Rodney, we know exactly whom we’ve taken. We’re giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, finding the mythical Atlantis.”
“Atlantis? You mean the supposed most intelligent civilization who built their city in the middle of the ocean only to have it sink? What do you need a spaceship for? Atlantis is on Earth, morons.” McKay was swiftly losing his composure as he glimpsed Saturn.
“You know as well as I, that the real Atlantis resides in another galaxy.” Smiling, Grant circled the other man. “In fact, I happen to know that you've been working closely with the SGC in finding the address.”
Lips thinned, McKay's mouth became a straight line. “That project was tabled years ago, and you know that, too, I'm sure.”
Tsking, Grant folded his arms across his chest. “I have it on good authority that in your spare time, you wrote an algorithm that gave you the top ten likely addresses for Atlantis. You also have been developing a way to recharge the last remaining ZPM.”
Mirroring the crossed arms, McKay let a smirk grace his lips. “That’s not front page news, Liam. I’ve been working on that since we found the damn thing. Even tried my hand at creating a similar device, but Sheppard Industries got the patent first.”
Grant’s smirk became a wolfish grin. “I bet you’re dying to know how they got there first.”
“I know why they’re first… Doctor John Sheppard.” Uncrossing his arms, McKay allowed them to fall to his sides. “Now… What. Do. You. Want.”
Grant’s wolf-like grin became a touch maniacal as he broadly gestured around him. “We have a means to get to Pegasus, now we just need a destination.”
“Oh. Is that all? Look, even if I bought into your crazy, searching for a needle in a stack of needles isn’t exactly the way I want to spend my days!” Turning to the nearest panel, the physicist pressed a series of buttons, bringing up a display. “Hybrid tech. I’m assuming Ancient and Asgard. Now,” he murmured to himself. “Where are the ‘gateships?” A beep sounded. “Ah.”
Following at a leisurely pace, Grant shoved his hands into his pockets. “You won’t be able to fly them. We’ve tied. However, the fact that you so easily accessed that information reminds me how vital you are for this mission.”
Rodney halted his steps. “Mission? This is not a simple step-through-the-‘gate meet and greet. I-”
“Enough,” Grant said quietly. Two soldiers appeared on either side of the captured man. “I thought you of all people would share my vision of a new exploratory opportunity, Doctor McKay.” Turning to the soldiers, Grant frowned. “Please show our guest to his room. Then I’d like to meet with our other guest.”
“You can’t do this, Grant! If the IOA doesn’t fry you, the SGC will destroy you!” Rodney yelled, resisting all the way. “You can't just steal a person!”
They stopped in front of one of the many doors on this level. It slid open revealing sparsely furnished quarters; Rodney was used to the military cots and thin blankets. “Fantastic,” he muttered, entering the room.
One of the soldiers waved a hand over an illuminated plate on the opposite door. “Sheppard. Let’s go.”
Spinning around, McKay caught a glimpse of familiar spiky dark hair, and an amused smile. “Hello, Rodney.”
oOoOoOo
TBC
Ugh. However, now we can get this party started...