Author's Note: I released a very short story last month called "Aftermath" that apparently was only visible to people who follow my account. I tried a few times to fix it and FF didn't comply so I'm re-releasing this story, but in the strongly requested longer version. That means it will be a bit longer than one chapter, but this will still be a relatively short story. Please enjoy!

Sheppard had been flying the 'jumper alone and had already opened the space 'gate back to Atlantis when the alarms flashed.

Frowning, he pulled up the scanner and instinctively pulled the 'jumper into a dive as a black ship bigger than the Daedalus loomed on his screen, blotting out the stars and the space 'gate. The normally smooth 'jumper shuddered and Sheppard almost face planted into the console in front of him as it jerked to an almost complete stop.

"Sheppard to Atlantis," he stabbed a finger at the communications array. Static met his earpiece.

"Sheppard to Atlantis, do you read?" he demanded. The snow of static continued and Sheppard cursed. Whoever this was had jammed his communications. He eased forward with the engine, feeling the shuddering escalate and his teeth rattled in his head. It was clear he was caught in some kind of net or tractor beam or grappling hook of some kind. What had they caught him with?

Hands speeding across the controls, the 'jumper couldn't tell him what it was caught in, either, just that the engines were working as hard as they could and he wasn't moving anywhere but backwards. The ship's surface was hard to make out. It was so black it blended with space around it, almost impossible to see.

"Dammit," he cursed softly. The planet he had been surveying was nothing on the Atlantis maps. There shouldn't have been anything there. It was only a flyby to make sure nothing was really there so they could check it off their list. It was so safe they even let him fly alone since no one else was available.

Static still met his headpiece. The next thing to try was to open his hailing frequencies and hope that the ship might be a friendly and this was just a mistake.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," he spoke into the con, trying to hold back the irritation in his voice. "I don't mean to be rude, but would you please release my ship?"

If anything, the shuddering intensified, and the 'jumper began to slide backwards faster, away from the direction of the space 'gate. Slowly, Sheppard realized that the great ship was enveloping the little 'jumper, sucking it into its bowels.

In one last attempt, Sheppard sent out a quick SOS, hoping it would get through the open 'gate in time for Atlantis to realize what was going on, and then the great maw of the ship enclosed him in darkness.

Cursing a bit more eloquently now, Sheppard started scrambling for ammo, bemoaning the fact that what was supposed to be a simple look-see run meant that he had traveled light. He hadn't even carried his tac vest and only had his Beretta and knife at his belt. There were always spare P90s and vests in the back, though, and he hauled them out of their crates, pulling them into the cockpit and zipping up a vest. If he was going to make a stand against potential unfriendlies it would have to be here.

He couldn't be sure what the strange ship wanted, but the fact that they didn't answer his hails and took him by force couldn't mean anything good. He told the 'jumper to turn on the opaque cover on the windows in the cockpit. There was no need for anyone to see what he was doing as the 'jumper settled down onto the floor of the ship that had swallowed them. Outside, he could see nothing. It was pitch black, and the 'jumper couldn't read that anything was actually even out there.

As he loaded up one of the P90s, he heard a thump on the door outside. Immediately crouching down behind the doorframe of the cockpit, he peered towards the door as the thumps continued. Then there was a hiss, and the 'jumper compliantly opened to whoever had operated the controls to force open the door from the outside.

Standing in the illumination of the jumper were several faceless figures. They were humanoid and all wearing a skintight, brown uniform, but the uniform also covered their faces, giving them no shape at all. Sheppard wasn't sure if they were human or not, but they did seem to see just fine as they marched through the door towards him.

He stood, the P90 aimed at the closest, not bothering to hide the fierce angle he felt his eyes taking.

"You're boarding my ship by force," he said. "What do you want?"

The faceless people stood still, appearing to contemplate him.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light, and Sheppard felt his insides vibrate as he was sent crashing to his knees. It felt like a concussion bomb had gone off.

Through the haze that had momentarily paralyzed him he realized the invaders had not flinched but had surged forwards. He couldn't bring up his P90 in time. They were on him, hard hands grasping and pulling his weapon from him. He twisted, lunging up, fists and elbows swinging drunkenly through the ringing in his ears from the flash of light.

He made impact with a few of them, then put his head down and tackled the one in front of him, sending them barreling to the floor in a twisting, punching struggle. An arm snaked its way around his throat, cutting off his airway. He tucked his chin, trying to conserve what air he could while simultaneously trying to throw the attacker off at his back.

There were too many of them. There were hands on his arms, his legs. He kicked, struggled, slammed into the walls and floor of the 'jumper trying to free himself to no avail. It was a strangely silent struggle with no one saying a word to him.

The arm around his neck managed to find better purchase and Sheppard felt his vision greying as he struggled for breath. The hands on his body were bruising in their strength as they finally brought him down to the ground. Dimly, he felt them stripping off his vest, his gun, his knife. Going through his pockets and emptying them. They found the knives he kept in his boots and in the sheath up his sleeve. They stripped off his jacket. The arm around his neck loosened. He kicked again, renewing his struggle as he felt oxygen returning life to his limbs and they dragged him upright, two figures on either side, pinning his arms painfully behind him and hauling him out of the 'jumper into the blackness beyond. He felt something snake around his right wrist, loop around his left elbow, and then pull home before fastening his left wrist to his right elbow and tightening.

With a sickening feeling, Sheppard was suddenly sure that if he left the 'jumper he might never see its comforting warmth again. He dug in his heels, fighting for every inch as the faceless figures continued to pull him into the blackness beyond. He twisted, head butting the figure next to him and feeling skin split at his hairline at the impact. Warm blood slipped down his face and into his eyes. His knee slammed sharply into the other figure and he heard a "huff" of air as they staggered back.

He turned back for the 'jumper, meeting another group of faceless figures head-on. As he charged towards them, the flash of concussive light from before hit him and he went down — hard. There was no chance to find his feet. The bruising hands were on him, hauling him up, dragging him away from the warm light of the jumper. He still couldn't find his feet as they pulled him backwards.

There was another flash of light, leaving his head swimming in nauseating pain and his muscles and bones like water. The blackness enveloped him, his eyes straining for any bit of light as they took him further and further from the 'jumper. Though his struggles weakened he did not stop. He wasn't going to go down without giving them everything he had. He scrabbled for purchase on the smooth floor beneath his boots, lurching everyone finally to a stop when he managed to lock in his legs. There was a rapid succession of the flashes of light, and he retched, losing all feeling in his legs while simultaneously his head felt like it was about to split open and his bones wanted to vibrate out of his body.

They finally carried him, his head lolling and eyes fluttering as he fought to stay conscious, with viciously strong hands bruising legs, arms, and torso. He was starting to make out shadows in the darkness, and then a bright light in the distance.

They dumped him on the floor, then jerked him upright to his knees. Before him was a large, high backed, metal chair bathed in a halo of light, the only light in the deep blackness. The restraints around his wrists and arms were loosened, but he had no energy to give them a fight. They lifted him, then dragged him to the chair, settling him in.

He tried to summon up one last bit of energy, but the hands bit into his arms and legs, holding him in place while straps were fastened around his ankles, his knees, his thighs, his wrists, chest and arms. And then they held his head in place and pressed it into the back of the chair. He struggled again, barely able to move now, the panic of claustrophobia settling in. A strap was wound tightly over his forehead, and then the hands released him. He could only look straight ahead.

He felt the prick of needles being inserted into veins along his arms, and a warm rush throughout his body. Then there was a hum, and the halo of light descended from the ceiling. The faceless people melted back into the shadows.

Sheppard could feel his skin prickling with anticipation, the hair on the back of his neck lifting, and then his nerves lit on fire as his mind was torn open.

There was really nothing left to do but scream.