A/N: I know I know I know. Here's the thing. Moved, lost notebooks, RL, stupid stupid RL, conventions... Lost. the. Whole. Damned. Story.

Aaannnnndd we're back...

oOoOoOo

Chapter 6

Bualadh Chun Comhrá le Duine – to strike up a conversation (with someone)

John Sheppard shuffled as quickly as he could down the ship's corridor, moving just fast enough to avoid the inevitable shove. The guard seemed to enjoy the wince of pain the prisoner gave with every hit to the shoulder. Poked and prodded, bruised and drained, John wished for a quiet place, painkillers, and a warm bed.

His captors were obsessed with his genetic make up, and asked a thousand questions about his ancestry. Of course, John's only answer was silence; the so-called doctors seemed to already know a great deal about his family; the one thing he wished his mother had explained before she'd Ascended.

Straining his foggy brain, John tried to recall the many stories Kay told about the Alterans and Atlantis. As he entered his room, a story came to mind. Leaning against the wall, John felt the ship turn its attention toward him. That is so weird, he thought. "Lucy?"

"Yes, Chosen?"

"Tell me about your technology. Why can some use it, while others can't? Does it have to do with the Wraith?"

"Affirmative. The genetic marker needed to operate the technology was developed to aid in the fight against the Wraith."

"So, because my mother was Alteran, they think I can find Atlantis for them." Maybe he was just too tired, or maybe everything started to finally make sense. This is too much. "They want me to go to another galaxy, in hopes of, what? Finding a city that may or may not exist, and then what?"

"Hypothesis, Chosen."

Waving a weary hand, John sat heavily on the bed. "Go right ahead."

"Atlantis was once a formidable vessel, with hyperspace capability, far superior than my own. Firepower –"

"Wait." John's fatigue fled quickly as he straightened. "It can fly?"

"Yes, Chosen. Atlantis is a cityship. Nearly five thousand inhabitants dwelled within her walls at one time."

"Amazing." Taking a deep breath, John lay back on the bed. "They want to bring it here. Back to this galaxy."

"That is my hypothesis. Your file states that you are an exceptional pilot. With your capabilities, you could fly Atlantis easily. The Ori could be defeated by the superior firepower, however, the Ori are also in search of Atlantis."

Frowning, John turned that information over in his mind. He had heard some military scuttlebutt about a race of aliens known as the Ori. Combining that intel with the stories his mother told, John knew they were something of a legend. "Why does everyone want to rule this galaxy?"

"Simply put: Population." Lucy replied; John hadn't expected an actual answer. "This galaxy is free of the Wraith. Therefore, it is populous. Ruling over lesser beings has always been the philosophy of the Ori, and the Goa'uld."

"I hate those guys."

"Many would agree with you, Chosen." A HUD popped up above John's head. "Your heart rate and temperature are elevated, and your blood glucose is low. I shall notify the caretaker –"

"Please don't Lucy. I could use a break from those vampires," the prone man sighed. Now we're back to Chosen. Must be a glitch in the matrix, he mused.

"Apologies, John. I will prepare a full analysis and report for you to read in the morning."

"Thanks, Lucy."

oOoOoOo

"Fidicinus?" Daniel Jackson asked, brows disappearing behind shaggy hair. That means 'lute' in Latin."

Carter nodded, pacing the room. "That message. I think there's more to it."

"Hmm." Glancing back at the carefully written note, the linguist had an idea. "You know, the Ancients like to name their ships with Latin terms. Maybe it's a ship?"

Tilting her head in acquiescence, Sam pulled up the database. "If it is a ship, there's none by that name."

"Do you think it's the name of an Ancient?"

"Checking," she said, frowning at the small screen.

An airman entered the lab, tentative smile on her face. "Doctor Jackson? This came for you from General Hammond; it's marked urgent."

"Thanks, Angelica." Taking the small package with a dazzling smile, Jackson ignored the look from his friend. "Don't look at me like that, Sam. I am a student of social and cultural interaction."

"Is that what they call it these days?"

Chuckling, Daniel read the name on the package, then immediately ripped it open. "Incredible."

Sam leaned over his shoulder, glancing between the leather-bound book and her teammate. "All right, I'll bite. What is it?"

With a predatory smile, Daniel opened the book. Articulate script adorned the pages along with Ancient symbols and lettering in the margins. "Hammond just sent over diaries belonging to John Sheppard's mother."

"Really?" Briefly, Sam wondered how the general got them, but she suspected Patrick and George were long-time friends. "Why are we just now getting these?"

The man beside her shrugged. "Maybe your visit made an impression?"

"I guess so," Carter said, hands aching to hold the little notebook.

"This is interesting," Daniel said, moving toward his desk. Fishing out a magnifying glass, he flipped through pages. "More Ancient code."

"Hey, kids. What's up?" Jack O'Neill sauntered into the room, hands in pockets. "I see Christmas came early for our fellow archeologist."

The major started typing again, a new idea forming behind bright blue eyes. "We think the word Fidicinus is the name of an Ancient or perhaps a ship."

"A ship? Don't we have a database of Alteran ships?"

"Not there," Daniel said, pulling out a notebook. "It might be older than that list."

Sighing, the colonel leaned against a wall. "All we need is one lead. Just one." Pulling his hands out of his pockets, O'Neill folded his arms across his chest. "The fact of the matter is The Trust is two steps ahead of us, and will continue to be until we get a break."

"Agreed," Carter answered. "David Sheppard said he would try to decipher more if he could. Teal'c and the Jaffa will report back if they hear or see anything, not to mention the Asgard. Something will turn up."

"It better," Jack murmured. "We're running out of time."

oOoOoOo

After the third day of prodding and needles, John was fed up. Just as he was led to another part of the ship, the dark room lit up immediately. Sighing, John stepped fully into the room, a rush of emotion assaulted his senses. Taking a deep breath, he ignored the other scientists scribbling on clipboards.

John glanced around the room, taking in the dusty consoles lining the walls. This room felt different. "What is this place?"

"That's why you're here, Dr. Sheppard," someone replied.

"This is an auxiliary control room, John," Lucy whispered in his head.

Now we're getting somewhere, he thought. "What am I supposed to do?"

With an exasperated sigh, the shorter of the scientists, tapped impatiently on his clipboard. "You can start by activating each panel on-"

"Stop!"

Everyone turned to the annoyed man with the scowl. Rodney McKay marched into the room, sporting a fresh black eye and a busted lip.

"McKay? What-"

The physicist waved an irritated hand. "Never argue with a person who has a wider forehead than you. Now," McKay sighed. "What are you doing?"

Blinking, John jerked a thumb in the direction of the nearest console. "Well, apparently I'm supposed to fondle some hardware. Would you like to join me?"

"I always knew you were a tease, Sheppard." McKay's scowl deepened. "I'm glad you can find humor in this, because there's a distinct possibility neither of us is going home. So if you'll excuse my inability to laugh at your ridiculous innuendo-"

"I didn't think it was that ridiculous-"

"-And furthermore, why would you touch something foreign, let alone alien?"

McKay watched John smile; the man looked more like his cat when she was up to no good. "Come on, Rodney. You've known me for ten years. What do you think?"

Glancing over his shoulder, McKay glared at the other scientists and their clipboards. "We need room to work. Go observe something else." When they didn't move, the physicist marched toward them, causing the others to step back. Rodney smirked as they backed over the threshold. "Get out!"

Hitting the panel, McKay watched their surprised faces as the door slid shut.

Turning back to his companion, Rodney snapped his fingers. "You've got about two minutes before they override that door."

Without taking his eyes off McKay, John nodded with a sigh. "Lucy? Can you buy us some time?"

"Affirmative."

Smiling at the other man's surprise, John grabbed an elbow, steering McKay toward a large console. "Okay. This ship is called Fidicinus. It was commissioned over ten thousand years ago and has been dormant for about five. Lucy, say hi."

"Greetings, Scientist." A static-filled voice responded quietly.

"You can call him Rodney," John answered, tapping several buttons, ignoring the stunned look on Rodney's face. Waving a hand at a blank wall, a HUD winked into view, displaying working, and non-working systems. "I found out you need a certain gene to–"

"–To operate the ship. Yes, yes, yes. But-"

"You have approximately three minutes, Chosen. Correction. John."

"Chosen? Wha–"

John clapped a hand over his shoulder. "Ask later. Lucy says there's a map of Astria Porta in her database. Not sure what that is, but by the look on your face, I assume you do."

"Well, yes, but–"

"Good. I've been interfacing with the ship, and found out they've not only bastardized the tech, but have grafted other tech. It's interfering with her functions." Pressing more buttons, John plowed forward. "I've re-routed a few things to your quarters so you can work with Lucy. Maybe you can find a way off this bucket of bolts."

Not amused, Lucy sent feedback through their connection.

"Sorry, Lucy." Waving a hand again, John brought up another HUD with blurry surveillance. The other scientists outside had broken the panel on the wall, an angry Liam Grant standing behind them.

Sighing, Rodney glanced over the assorted consoles. "Lucy? Show me the 'gate map."

"There is no map of gates. Please re-phrase–"

Snapping his fingers again, Rodney regained his momentum. "Ring of the Ancestors, Astria Porta–"

The first HUD screen changed sluggishly, displaying a galaxy map dotted with blue.

"What's this?"

Glancing up at the footage, McKay shook his head. "I'll explain later. Lucy, send this data to my quarters also." Jabbing a finger at each lit console, Rodney turned to John. "Turn it all off. They can't know what you can do yet."

"Won't it get us home sooner?"

"It'll get us dead faster, Sheppard." McKay raised a hand to stop any more questions. "I will explain everything to you. Just trust me."

Nonplussed, John thought 'off', leaving them in a dim room. "I trust you."

Smiling his approval, McKay nodded. "Now we're getting somewhere." He moved toward the door, arms crossed. "Lucy, if this was recorded at all, can you erase it?"

"Those aspects of my technology have been in disrepair for centuries."

"Good to know." Hitting the panel, McKay stepped away from the door. "I thought you had the top scientists on this ship, Grant."

Ignoring the protests of the other men, Grant moved between them, glaring at Rodney. "I assure you, Dr. McKay, they are the best. With you here, there's no stopping us."

Waving a dismissive hand, the scientist frowned. "Whatever. They couldn't even open a simple door!"

John breathed a sigh of relief; McKay was always good at deflection. However, the scientist's earlier statement only left more questions. John watched the exchange quietly, trying not to draw attention.

"And what am I supposed to do with him?" Rodney asked, jabbing a finger toward the other man.

"John Sheppard is the only person on planet Earth who is half Ancient. He," Grant smiled maniacally. "Is our skeleton key. Our way to Atlantis!"

McKay tapped his finger against his chin. "I see. And that means?"

Sheppard couldn't help smirking at how quickly Grant's grin fled from his lips.

"Dr. McKay—"

"No, no. I get it. Because Dr. Sheppard here has the gene, you think you'll be able to get to Atlantis? I'm just wondering, since I'm pretty sure you'll need destination coordinates, navigation, and oh yeah, a ship that can take you there!"

Grant stepped forward; he and McKay were nearly nose to nose. "You are here to make certain we find The City. In safety."

On cue, two more soldiers stepped around the exasperated scientists.

With the jut of his chin, McKay crossed his arms tightly. "Oh, because that worked so well last time."

John moved closer to his friend, watching the people crowding the door. "McKay, stop antagonizing the bad guys," he whispered.

Snorting, Grant stepped away, wandering the room. "This is one of three rooms like it on this ship." He waved a hand over a console, which languidly lit, then dimmed. Thankfully, he missed John wince from Lucy's feedback. "The other rooms are inaccessible; I want you to open them."

McKay's crooked mouth slanted further; it was the first time John had seen Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Phd., Phd. look nervous. "And ten-thousand year old dust is good for whom?"

"I don't think you've grasped the reality of your situation, Rodney," Grant said, smirk in place. "We leave for the Pegasus Galaxy in four days. With or without you."

A surprised chuckle escaped McKay's lips. "I don't think they make crutches big enough, because that is the only way you're going to get anywhere!"

"Unless you'd like to study Saturn's rings intimately," the other man said, stepping in McKay's space again. "You will find a way to make it work. Now." Stalking through the door, Grant finally left the room.

"What is your problem, McKay?" John placed his hands on his hips, hoping for answers.

"I needed to know how serious he was about asking for his own death." Seeing his companion's brows disappear under flat hair, McKay shook his head. "There are some things about Pegasus that even he may not know about."

"Comforting, Rodney."

"Maybe I'll finally get that Nobel. Albeit posthumously." Turning toward the irate but silent scientists, Rodney rubbed his hands together with a sinister smile.

"McKay–"

"You!" The astrophysicist pointed a finger at a more demure minion, choosing to ignore any false hope John Sheppard may have offered. "Take me to the engine room, or whatever."

The man looked from his equally silent companions back to McKay. "I–"

Staring intently at the quiet scientist, McKay's eyes turned cold. "Look. Either we figure out how this ship works, or we twiddle our thumbs until we get ripped apart by the gravitational pull of Jupiter! Your choice."

John moved behind Rodney, trying to show solidarity – or at least feel more confident about this excursion.

Seeing the two men standing together, the other man set his jaw. "This way, sir."

oOoOoOo

The Strategic Genetic Committee was disbanded finally. We tried very hard to make sure John never knew he was, for lack of a better term, half-alien. They've decided that the ideals started 15 years ago no longer align with today's thinking. Really? Ripping children from the arms of their parents is now a bad idea? I'm not long for this world, and I am glad that my Kieran will be safe. Someone finally unearthed an Astria Porta, giving this fledgling generation new hope. Will they find Lantea and learn from their ancestors?

From the journals of Kaylin Sheppard, neé Caoilfhionn, O'Braion Clan. Contributed by Dr. John K. Sheppard; translated by Dr. Daniel Jackson

"If we get to P3X-474, we may be able to intercept them, right?" Daniel asked, leaning forward over his desk.

"P4M-399 would be even better," Sam replied, fingers dancing across the keyboard. "It's on the edge, right between the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies."

Flipping between mission reports, Daniel adjusted his glasses again. "Does Rodney know about this planet?"

"Doubtful. He's been in Siberia for the last two years."

Wincing, the linguist retrieved the two mugs between their laptops, and refilled them with coffee. "I've been searching the database of known Alteran ships. Not finding the Fidicinus, yet." Daniel sipped at the dark liquid savoring the warmth and the jolt of caffeine. "At least not in the last eight thousand years."

"Well, that fits with your theory of it possibly being older," Carter sighed, accepting the other mug.

"In fact," the man said, pacing a bit. "I think it might be older than Atlantis."

"How do we find that out? All our information only goes back–" The major stopped as Daniel waved a journal, his face suspiciously eager. "You found something."

"Yep. Look here."

After reading a few paragraphs, the cobwebs cleared from Carter's brain. "Her parents were engineers?"

"Caoilfhonn wrote the names of some ships, but I can't help but think these journals are partly some sort of code." Tapping a page near the end of the journal, Daniel smiled. "The note in the margin is in Gaelic. It says the fourth fleet was named for musical instruments, ten thousand years or older."

The major let out a low whistle. "What else have you found?"

"Interestingly enough, her son John shouldn't have been born." Shaking his head, Daniel grabbed another journal. "She was a Descended Being; there's no way she should've been able to conceive, let alone do any of the things she was able to do."

"The others didn't interfere?"

"No, not at all. Which leads me to believe Kay Sheppard was viewed as more experiment than enlightened human."

"But?"

Smiling, Daniel swept a hand across the small pile of journals. "But she found friends and a family through a man who didn't ask too many questions." He sat down with a sigh, tapping one of the books. "I need more."

Sam had been intrigued by the journals when they arrived, and couldn't wait to read them. "Do you think we can get more?"

"Can't hurt to ask."

oOoOoOo

Rodney McKay studied the information John and Lucy had given him. Having full access to every database, every system, and every schematic was the most amazing thing. No blocked access, no classified areas, no ham-handed military blundering…

"This is incredible," he whispered. He badly wanted to brag to Carter about this; brag to anyone, really. For he had unlocked the secrets of this ship, and possibly found a way to get to Atlantis. "We need a control chair."

Suddenly, the HUD switched to a blueprint of the ship, and a surface map of the room. "I don't believe this. Lucy?"

"Yes, Scientist."

"As much as I enjoy being called by a title, Rodney will suffice."

"Yes, Rodney."

"Why hasn't anyone used the control chair?"

A faint buzz of static preceded the ship's answer; Rodney was beginning to think this was Lucy's way of sighing. "I do not know. It is possible they do not know it exists, or no one has been able to operate it."

"Hmm," Rodney replied, tapping a finger on his chin. "Is it online? Scratch that. Is it functional?"

"Its functionality is limited due to the amount of power required to operate the chair."

"I see. Can John use the chair?"

"Yes. By my calculations, he is the only one who can use it efficiently."

Setting aside his cooling MRE, Rodney tapped the HUD. "Efficiently? You mean if he uses it, there will be less of a power drain."

"Yes, Rodney."

"Interesting."

oOoOoOo

John swallowed the reconstituted eggs with difficulty. He was reminded of the few times he had been stranded in the middle of the desert or a rainforest waiting for the weather to cooperate. Still can't look at Chicken ala King, he thought with amusement.

Thoughts of the past moved from amusement to sadness. John never thought he'd miss his father so much. Even worse, the possibility of going to his mother's mythical city, made him wish for his mother's direction.

"You done?" Grunt Number Nine waved his gun toward the door.

Sighing, John snagged two Jell-O cups and a power bar. He was pretty sure Rodney wasn't able to eat this morning, if he was able to sleep at all. "Where to now?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?"

John felt Lucy following him down the corridor, buzzing along exposed wires. :Rodney calls it Lab Three.:

Smiling, John could hear the capital letters. "All right," he said aloud.

As they rounded the corner, John watched Grunt Four and Five shove Rodney into what he assumed was Lab Three.

"Oh very mature! Miscreants." McKay surveyed the large table in front of them; various pieces and knick-knacks and doohickeys stolen from across the universe a haphazard pile. "Where have you been? You look terrible."

"Thanks. So, what is all this stuff?"

"I'm assuming Ancient tech they want you to fondle, as you so bluntly put it. But honestly, I don't see how this will help us find Atlantis sooner." McKay moved slowly around the table, cataloging each piece. "Unless one of these devices is a hyperdrive with a compass, we shouldn't waste our time here."

Crossing his arms, John frowned. Rodney was onto something, and he wasn't sure he was going to like it. "Where should we be?"

Subtly inclining his head toward a blackened console, the astrophysicist waited until the other man stood next to him. "There is a control chair on this ship. It means that we can at least get a star map, or maybe coordinates –"

"Why—"

"Because I'm trying to buy some time. Stargate Command will likely try to send a team to a planet at the edge of the galaxy, and team up with the Jaffa."

"The Jaf—who?"

Shaking his head, McKay waved a hand. "Look. I studied a lot of the files you sent –"

"What is going on here?"

Rolling his eyes, McKay turned around. "We are trying to work. Why can't you just twirl your mustache elsewhere? Some of us are trying to concentrate!"

John hid his smirk before turning around. "Yeah. Look, we're doing what you said, but we need to use some sort of caution—"

"Not helping, Sheppard," Rodney murmured. "The fact of the matter is, this can't be rushed. Bombs notwithstanding."

Glancing between the two men, Grant shook his head. Working with McKay was bad enough, but now he had a cohort. "Field trip. Let's go."

Quietly, the scientists followed Grant down a long corridor. "We now have two days before we depart for—"

"Two days?" both captives said in unison.

"What happened? Not as covert as you thought?" sneered McKay.

Ignoring the jab, Grant kept his leisurely pace. "I've been informed the SGC is calling in favors from every ally in the galaxy. Most likely we'll be met by Jaffa ships at the edge of the Milky Way, so the timetable has been adjusted."

"You know resetting the Doomsday Clock never worked for anyone," John said, shaking his head.

Static along the walls made John shiver. :John, I believe they have discovered the control chair,: Lucy informed him. :I will divert power from non-essential systems."

:Let's wait until Rodney says it's okay. I don't want to activate anything that shouldn't.:

:Yes, John.:

Leaning closer to the other man, Rodney quickly glanced around. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. Might be a chair," John muttered. "No power until you say so."

"Hmm. Good thinking."

John rolled his eyes at the tickle at the back of his brain; Lucy seemed amused. "What do I need to know?"

"Don't touch anything, and for God's sake, do not sit in the chair!" Rodney's panicked whispers rose above the noise of the ship.

"I don't think the bad guys should know that, McKay," John elbowed his friend in the ribs.

Grant stopped in front of a rusted, battle-scarred door. Touching the palmplate, he waited expectantly for the door to open; nothing happened. Frustrated, he pointed at the offending object. "Open this door!"

"Why?" the scientists asked together.

Grant folded his arms across his chest smugly. "I discovered something that will get us to Atlantis much sooner."

John sighed, stepping forward, tired of being pushed around. Waving his hand over the plate, he watched the door struggle to open. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney flinch and cover his nose and mouth. Covering his smirk, John pushed a hand through his hair. "What's that?" he blurted, a little worried by the loss of color in his companion's face.

"That –"

"That is a control chair," Rodney said with a hint of reverence in his voice. "Except, instead of a piece of useful machinery, it's now just a pretty, glowy armchair."

"I disagree, Doctor McKay. We found it last night, however, until you helped us, we couldn't power it." Grant grinned wolfishly. "So thank you."

John winced, waiting for McKay to explode. Opening one eye, he glanced over at his companion. The scientist grinned an equally wolfish grin, showing more teeth. "Why put off the inevitable?"

Grant genuinely laughed; Rodney McKay entertained him to no end. "I'm not going to kill you–"

"Yet!"

Shaking his head, Liam sauntered into the room. "Come, Doctor Sheppard. Time for you to earn your keep."

"Me? I'm not touching that thing." John shuddered at the wrongness the chair projected.

"There should be enough power to get coordinates–"

"Wait!" McKay stepped in front of John, pointing at the chair. "How do you know powering this object won't shut down essential systems? It will take enormous amounts of power to use this chair. Do you have a generator in your pocket?"

"Enough." Grant signaled two soldiers; they easily lifted John into the chair.

Off off off! John screamed, mind overloaded with the constant, pervasive mental component of the Ancient tech. The bastardized systems fought for dominance, each eager to please the Chosen.

:Power has been diverted for now, John. There are secondary systems that have bypassed my control that may try to re-divert–:

:I got it, Lucy.: John forced his mind to calm as an electric shock raced across his skin. Distantly, he heard McKay's frantic ranting at another scientist. Heavy footsteps came nearer, and John forced eyes open he didn't realize were closed. Beyond the bright lights, he saw a hand reaching out. "No! Don't touch me!"

"Okay, John. Okay." Rodney leaned in, all pale face and very blue eyes, forcing the other man to focus on him. "Relax. Think about where you are in the universe."

oOoOoOo

Kinda sucky... I know. Maybe I won't wait a WHOLE YEAR to post another chapter. Maybe next week.