Stargate Atlantis: Philosopher's Stone
"John? John?"
John Sheppard blinked, rousing himself from his slumber. He rolled onto his back, opening his eyes. He was surprised to find himself on the floor when he could distinctly remember being slouched over the desk only a second ago. Maybe it had been two seconds as his brain felt foggy and slow to move from sleep to wakefulness.
He blearily stared up as fingers stroked down one side of his face. The touches were soft, gentle. "Huh? Moira?" he asked. The woman was out of focus, indistinct, but she reminded him of Moira even though she wasn't in Atlantis. He blinked again.
"John? John, you have to get moving. They shouldn't have left us, John. We were the last ones. John, please, don't let me die out here like this!"
"Whoa, what? Moira, Moira, wait! I'm coming!" He moved abruptly, getting to his feet. He froze. Moira, or rather the woman who had resembled her was gone. He was no longer in the bio lab.
There was chaos all around him in the control room. People were running, shouting. They were all strangers to John, men and women he had never seen before and they were all clad in harmonious garments of gray and green, the same tunic and pants he suddenly noticed he was wearing as well.
The city was tilting wildly as alarms shrieked like some insane banshee. Lights flickered and flashed in a green mosaic that was dizzying. It was listing crazily like a ship at sea about to be engulfed by a tidal wave and the chaos erupting wasn't helping the situation.
John realized he wasn't in Kansas anymore.
He grabbed onto a console as his feet threatened to slide out from under him. The console flared to life at his touch. A screen rose as the city canted again and he braced himself. An impact hit the Shield. The city had a pinkish glow for a moment, punctuated by staccato bursts of green and yellow as the impacts thudded, thudded but could not penetrate the Shield.
John eyed the screen. "Crap," he muttered. There were scores of enemy ships approaching and attacking. They were just blips on the screen but there were far too many of them and John wondered if they were Wraith or Replicators or something else. He suddenly realized the city wasn't on a planet. The city was flying. The city was a ship flying in outer space.
"About time, Seamus! Enemy craft bearing down on three sides!" snarled a man who was older and grizzled and a complete stranger to John. "There'll be no help from Atlantis this time! Damn Brendan and his damn explorations!"
"Atlantis? So this isn't Atlantis and we're not…Seamus?" John asked. His brows were quirking in puzzlement. Another hit sent the city spinning like a top.
"Sir! Falias is reporting heavy damage! They are unable to sustain the—"
"Jettison it!"
"Sir! There are still work crews in that area and we can't get to them to—" a woman with curly blond hair began to protest.
"Jettison it now!" the man ordered. "If we don't jettison it we risk losing the entire city! Do it!" he bellowed.
There was an odd hush, a moment of silence. There was a searing sound, just below the range of audible hearing. It was like a vibration that set one's teeth on edge. The city canted and John moved to the window with the rest to watch in shock and horror as one of the city's outer quadrants was violently disengaged from the rest.
Although space was silent it was too easy to imagine the screams of those still left there.
The section spun, spun, wobbling without being attached to the city. It was a lost section, a lamb bleating for its mother or for the shepherd to guide it back to the flock. John's hands touched the cold, cold wall as the portion of the city spun and spun, getting further and further away until it was suddenly obliterated by a flash of green laser fire.
The explosion was bright, so bright the city compensated and darkened the viewports until the danger was past.
But the danger was only just beginning.
"We never should have come to this galaxy!" a man moaned.
People were moving, shifting around him, returning to their work stations. "Wait, we're not in the Pegasus…then where the hell are we?" John asked, turning towards the main controls. "And who is firing upon us?"
"Seamus! Why aren't you in the Chair? Coordinate with Fachtna and get us home now! As soon as we reach home we are going to ground! The Stargate's inoperable out here but we can seal the hyperspace window so they can't follow us! Go!"
"Going!" John replied, taking off at a sprint. There wasn't time to explain he wasn't this Seamus guy and didn't even belong here, wherever here was. The pieces were falling together and he was beginning to figure out where he was but not when. He rushed to the lower levels, trusting that the blueprint of this city would match Atlantis, or nearly so.
"About time, Seamus! Come on! It will take two of us to get her home in one piece!" A red-haired man harangued from one of two Ancient Chairs, working in tandem.
John blinked at the Irish accent, but quickly slid into the vacant Ancient Chair. Instantly it reclined as the power engulfed him, grabbing him. He closed his eyes. "Whoa!" The rush was intense, virile. Suddenly he was the city, feeling every hit, feeling every bombardment as the city flew a wild course in space. He commanded Drones and flew them in concert with the other man, directing them towards a fleet of massive ships that John tried to identify.
When he saw the markings on the ships he knew.
"Fuglies! We're fighting fuglies…we must be in their galaxy, but when?" he muttered. He opened his eyes, needing answers, breaking concentration but he was physically pulled back against the chair by an unseen force. His palms were stuck to the arm pads and he grunted with the effort of trying to release them. Suddenly the city was in control instead of the other way round and he didn't like that, not at all.
"Seamus, concentrate! We need to buy time to get away!" Fachtna ordered.
John swore but closed his eyes again, trying to relax into the power. It was much stronger here, and he wondered if that was the result of this city having fully loaded ZPMs. Or perhaps this city's sentience was stronger than the one on Atlantis. He didn't have time to ponder as he directed another wave of Drones towards the enemy ships.
Explosions ripped and rippled but did minimal damage as the ships kept coming.
"Forget the Drones!" sounded the ornery voice of the commander. "Initiate evasive actions! We'll open the hyperspace window and lock the ninth chevron!"
"Understood, sir!" Fachtna replied. "Seamus, with me! We never should have come here! Damn Finegas and his experiments!"
"Wait, wait, when is this? You encountered the fuglies in their own galaxy but left scant records of it! Did you create them? I need all the intel you have on them now! I need to know how to defeat them and how to OW!" Pain flared. It was as if a giant hand was slamming him back into the Chair, effectively pinning him there as a prisoner. "Let me go! Damn it, I'm not this Seamus guy! I am John Sheppard from Atlantis, from the future! I need to find this city to save her! I need to get outta here!"
John closed his eyes, concentrating not on the firefight around him but on Atlantis, on returning there. But when he opened his eyes he was still locked in the Chair. He knew he wasn't in some stasis pod trapped in some virtual reality like he had been on the Aurora but it was worth a shot.
Except that it hadn't worked.
"Concentrate, Seamus and stop babbling! It will take two of us to get us home!"
"I'm not babbling, damn it! I don't belong here!" He cursed, struggling. It was like he was glued to the Chair, being forced against his will to help these people and this city in a past confrontation that was already lost, or had been lost. He really didn't know.
And he really didn't care.
He just wanted to go home.