Teyla peered outside the jumper into the gasses, trying to see any sign of Lorne.

"Huh," Rodney mused, "the interference just stopped."

"Rodney!" Teyla gestured to the forward window. The gasses were clearing, revealing a metal-looking floor that the jumper seemed to be sitting on. If there were walls, they remained obscured by the cloud. Teyla shook her head, "What is this place?"

"A highly advanced spacecraft," Rodney answered distractedly.

"How do you know this?" Teyla asked, surprised.

"Hmm?" Rodney looked up, "Oh, easy, Once they powered up their main stardrive, the energy signature was unmistakable. But that's not interesting. What is interesting is that even though this ship is completely alien, and far more advanced than anything we've got, the components seem to be based on Ancient technology."

"That is...interesting," Teyla replied flatly," but we need to find our missing people. Can we breathe the air outside?"

Rodney waved his hand, "Yes, yes, yes, it's fine. It changed to match the composition of the air in the jumper. Whoever these people are, I think they're inviting us to come out." He gulped, "which...I'm not sure is a good thing or not."

Ronon immediately stood and headed for the rear compartment, gun in hand.

"Wait!" Rodney cried. He turned to Teyla, "I suppose you want to go, too?"

"Yes," Teyla nodded, "but someone must stay with the jumper, and I must stay with my people. You should accompany Ronon and find out what you can about this cloud vessel. We will need a way of escape once we find Major Lorne."

McKay cringed, but nodded. He started to go, then turned around, "but just so we're clear. This whole cloud thing? Not my fault..."

Ronon groaned from the rear compartment.

"Go!" Teyla urged.

Rodney went.


Lorne opened his eyes and stretched. What a crazy nightmare he'd had! But now he was safe and sound, back in good old Atlantis. He squinted in the dark, able to make out the silhouetted form of his familiar possessions. Near the window, an easel with his latest oil painting sat covered with a dust cloth.

Rubbing his eyes, he got up and waved on the lights. Evan started to pull on his duty jacket and grinned, remembering that today was his day off. How fortunate! There was some dream imagery that he had just seen that would look breathtaking on a canvas! He searched his box of paints, hoping that he had enough of the right colors left to make the cloud. Finding more than enough, Lorne smiled.

Maybe someday, I can paint it as a mural somewhere. But I'll start with a canvas for now.

He lifted the dust cloth off his easel, intending to simply move the completed artwork. Instead, he froze. This was not the painting of the sunset from the East Pier that he remembered spending weeks perfecting. Instead, the smudges of oil depicted a bleak, dark scene contrasted by an eerie bluish light. Lorne could easily see the figure of a person sitting slumped in Atlantis' Ancient prison cell. Many of the figure's details were too blurred and unfinished to see, but the hair, uniform, and posture were unmistakable.

Lorne frowned deeply. Why would he have a painting of Col. Sheppard imprisoned? Where was his sunset? Lorne rubbed experimentally at a corner of the depressing painting. Instead of the texture of brushstrokes on canvas, it was smooth like glass.

Someone banged on the door, startling the Major. He turned quickly, knocking the painting to the floor. It shattered into pieces so fine, they were almost sand. As Lorne stared at the mess, the door opened.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," cooed a smooth voice.

Lorne looked up at a gorgeous pair of watery blue eyes.

The woman smiled dazzlingly and stepped into the room, the lavender silk gown she almost wore glistening, "My name is Judith Gardener. I've been sent to evaluate you."


"So," Sheppard crossed his arms at the Science General, who had just come in for a visit, "this is where you ask me to tell you everything I know, and threaten me if I don't."

"Well," Randall replied calmly, "I suppose that is accurate from a certain point of view."

"Then this is where I tell you to go to..."

"That would be unnecessary, Colonel. We have been almost everywhere already," Randall replied calmly, "we are nearing the end of the journey. Yes, nearing where it began. But we must know the end of the song. We must know the past to know the future."

"What?" Sheppard blinked. He was fairly certain that he wasn't being asked to sing, but this interrogation was still taking an odd turn, "Look, whatever you want to know...I don't think I have the answers you're looking for."

"Lt. Col. Sheppard," Randall interrupted," what you may not realize, is that we can learn about you without you speaking a word. Simply by observing your reactions, we can extrapolate many behavior patterns of your species."

"My species," John shook his head, "why..."

"I am sorry," Randall raised a hand, "we tire of your questions. Do not ask more." He turned to leave."

"Hey!" Sheppard shouted.

"If you will calm yourself," Randall called back, "we will further test your reactions to various forms of nutrition."

"Great," Sheppard groaned, seeing more plates of slimy-looking goo being brought in, "I was just starting to get hungry."


Rodney puffed a little as he tried to keep up with Ronon's long-legged stride while simultaneously checking instrument readings.

He doesn't even know where he's going, so why is he going so fast?

"Hmm," Rodney frowned, masking curiosity.

"What?" Ronon asked without slowing.

"Oh, just, I think this ship is over 150 thousand years old," Rodney answered.

"How can you tell?" Ronon asked from far ahead.

Rodney waved a hand and shook his head scornfully, "smart scientific stuff that you wouldn't understand. It isn't important."

Ronon stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, I can't be sure," Rodney admitted, "but this device seems to measure the decay rates of the molecular components of the various materials, calculate and adjust for atmospheric variability, and extrapolate an approximate age. Are you satisfied?"

"Not really." Ronon sighed impatiently and started moving again.

"Hmm, yes, well, I suppose you had better leave the higher functions to me then," Rodney puffed behind Ronon again, but managed a victorious smile between asthmatic breaths.

Ronon rolled his eyes and continued on. He had bigger fights waiting.

"Whoa, hold on!" Rodney exclaimed breathlessly.

Reluctantly, Ronon stopped again.

"This...this isn't possible!" Rodney stared from his scanner to the wall and back again.

Meanwhile, Sheppard rots in some alien prison. Or worse. Ronon grabbed McKay and dragged him down the corridor, ignoring his protests about important discoveries and clues to the ship's origin.

"I don't care where they're from!" growled Ronon, "I just want to get Sheppard and get out of here! Understand?"

"But they're from..." Rodney began.