Walter Reed National Military Medical Center
Bethesda, Maryland
Milky Way
Moaning, complaining, and even attempted bribery had failed. Despite his efforts, nothing swayed the medical staff to discharge him ahead of schedule. Finally, the day had arrived and Colonel Sheppard's medical exile, as he termed it, was at an end. In preparation for release, the full gamut of exams had been performed the day before. Waking before the sun rose, Sheppard sat ready to escape as breakfast was served. For reasons he could not fathom, the hospital refused to discharge him earlier than ten thirty in the morning. This dashed his hopes of a breakfast burrito, much to his dismay.
Quietly, the door to the hospital room opened. Stepping through, Ronon greeted his longtime friend. One worry that ran through Sheppard's mind was the media presence at the front of the hospital, eager for a comment. A few enterprising reporters were also covering the exit from the underground parking structure. At least the hospital's policy of wheeling patients to the door in a wheelchair had been waived.
Ronon and Sheppard exited the room and began their walk down the long hallway towards the stairwell at the end. Passing the nurses' station, Sheppard smiled at the cute blonde-haired woman who had made it a point to bring him extra pudding cups. Coming to the bank of elevators, the two men passed a man in a Colonel's dress uniform that bore a striking resemblance to Sheppard, seated in a wheelchair waiting for the next elevator. Silently, Ronon and Sheppard continued toward the stairs in the distance.
The wheelchair-bound man in the Colonel's uniform, and his escort, entered the elevator. Pushing a button, the elevator descended towards the basement. Luckily, the elevator car did not stop at any floors during its trip. Reaching the basement parking structure, the doors opened and the wheel-chaired man rolled toward his waiting mode of transport: three black Chevrolet Suburbans with dark tinted windows. As the man in the Colonel's uniform made his way into the backseat of the middle vehicle, an Airman standing in the distance made a phone call to the reporter outside who had bribed him to watch the parking garage for Colonel Sheppard.
"They are pulling out now. He is in the middle vehicle," the Airman explained.
Slipping into gear, the three Suburbans emerged from the underground parking garage into the overcast day. Making their way towards the driveway leading to the roadway outside the medical center complex, the vehicles moved slowly. This was not out of concern for pedestrians, but to ensure those waiting along the roadway followed. Turning onto the roadway, the three vehicles—faux Sheppard and the cars filled with journalists—sped off. The young enlisted men driving the Suburbans had been ordered to make the journalists' chase an interesting one. At the first turn, the Suburbans broke off in three separate directions. Those following now faced the choice of which Suburban to follow.
Inside the hospital, Sheppard and Ronon exited a doorway and found themselves outside. Following the concrete footpath, the two men walked leisurely toward the helicopter landing pad one hundred yards away. On the pad sat a Sikorsky UH-60M Blackhawk. The chopper and its crew were normally assigned to the hospital for Medevac duties. Seated in the cockpit, the pilot and copilot finished their preflight checks as Sheppard and Ronon arrived. Meeting them, the chopper's crew chief stepped forward and ushered the new arrivals into their seats aboard.
"Welcome aboard, Colonel," the pilot said over the intercom.
"We have orders to drop you off along the way, sir," the copilot explained.
"Where are we headed?" Colonel Sheppard asked.
"Norfolk. We are picking up a patient transfer," the copilot answered.
"You will be dropped off along the way," the pilot said.
"Let's keep this little field trip between us," Sheppard suggested.
"It was vigorously suggested that we never saw you, and that you were never on this bird," the pilot assured.
Sliding shut the right-side outer door, the crew chief busied himself by checking that his passenger's seatbelts were fastened. A whine pierced the air as the Blackhawk's two turbine engines spooled up. Vibration surged through the helicopter's fuselage as the four-bladed rotor mast began to spin faster and faster. Raising the collective while adding throttle, the pilot took the craft to the air. Rising to eighty feet, the Blackhawk's nose dipped as it began its flight toward Norfolk. As the helicopter sped away from Walter Reed, it continued its climb to thirty-five hundred feet of altitude.
Beneath the Blackhawk, Bethesda passed by. Angling around the Washington, DC air corridor, which was restricted airspace, the helicopter raced toward Fairfax. Flying under visual flight rules, the flight crew followed Interstate 66. This roadway would guide them for the first leg of their flight. In the distance, Manassas came and went.
"You flew Blackhawks, didn't you, Colonel?" the pilot asked.
"Not in years. I'm qualified on Blackhawks, the Osprey, and a few others," Sheppard replied.
"Gave up rotary wing for spaceships?" the pilot asked.
"Something like that. Gave that up too so I could drive a desk," Sheppard said with a laugh.
Following the 66 freeway, the Blackhawk neared Winchester, VA. Ten miles short, the helicopter altered course somewhat, moving into areas devoid of civilization other than a farm here and there. As the Blackhawk changed course, the copilot explained they were nearing the drop-off point.
"Flight following, this is Army 27010, call sign Dust Off two eight," the pilot said into the radio.
"Dust Off two eight, this is flight following," a man replied.
"Flight following, Dust Off two eight. We are showing an engine chip light for our starboard turbine," the pilot explained.
"Dust Off two eight, are you declaring an emergency?" the man asked.
"Not at this time. We are going to set down in a clearing with rotors turning so our crew chief can check the source of the warning. Will advise when airborne again. Request you keep our flight plan open," the pilot stated.
"Two eight, I will make a notation and keep your plan open," the man replied.
Swooping low over a clearing, the Blackhawk pitched its nose and came to a stop. Gracefully, the helicopter settled the final forty feet to the ground, its wheeled landing struts settling. Rotors still turning, the side door opened. Ronon and Sheppard hopped down and jogged away from the helicopter. As the side door closed again, the crew chief fired off a smart salute to Sheppard, which he answered with a wave. Dust kicked up as the helicopter's rotors sped, and the craft clawed back into the air, dropping its nose and continuing toward Norfolk.
Standing in the clearing, Ronon and Sheppard looked at one another for a moment. Before John could ask what they were doing outside Winchester, the honking of a car horn was heard approaching. Turning toward the noise source, a green Jeep Cherokee appeared. Coming to a stop next to Sheppard and Ronon, the Jeep's driver's window lowered.
"Get in, boys," Jennifer Keller said.
"I'm almost afraid to ask what you are doing here," Sheppard said, fastening his seatbelt.
"Like any good doctor, I make house calls," Keller replied.
Speeding down a little-used dirt road, the Cherokee covered the mile between the clearing and the destination in little time. Bringing the Jeep to a stop, Sheppard looked around. He saw a large white two-story farmhouse, a large barn painted in deep red, and a few pieces of farm equipment. Making their way inside, Sheppard immediately noted the large number of computers filling what normally would have been a spacious dining room. Seeing his friends arrive with his wife, Rodney McKay sprang to his feet.
"You're here! It's a little spartan as far as amenities are concerned, but it works," Rodney began, referring to the farmhouse.
"What are you and your wife doing here, Rodney?" John asked.
"Data mining. You didn't think I decided to become a tobacco farmer, did you?" Rodney asked.
"Find anything?" John asked.
"I have found several things that can help us. If you come over here, I have a PowerPoint presentation that covers everything I've learned so far," Rodney replied.
"Stop right there, Rodney. You can show John what you found after I check how he is healing," Keller interrupted.
"I just got out of the hospital. Do we really have to do this?" Sheppard asked.
"It will just take a moment. Come with me," Keller ordered.
"Notice I didn't even argue there? I learned you can't argue with her when she uses the medical voice," Rodney said, mainly to himself.
Taking John into a separate room on the first floor, Keller ordered him to remove his shirt. Removing his bandages, she examined the healing wound. It was healing nicely, but far from healed. Replacing his bandages with new ones, she gave him instructions on exercises to promote further healing. Agreeing to comply, Sheppard put his shirt back on and stepped out of the room.
While making his way to the computer-filled dining room, Sheppard was called into a room along the way. There, Ronon had laid out materials supplied by General O'Neill. Laid out on several tables was an assortment of weaponry and ammunition, ranging from pistols and submachine guns to a surplus Russian rocket-propelled grenade. Having taken stock of what they had available, John, with Ronon in tow, made their way to Rodney's dining room command center.
"Tell me what you've got," John began.
"I managed to get into your brother's iPhone. When we find him, you really need to tell him to change his password. 'Magic man' is a horrible password. Data security hinges on the strength of a password…" Rodney lectured.
"Rodney!" John said pointedly.
"Huh?" Rodney asked, puzzled.
"What did you find?" John asked, frustration apparent.
"Oh! In the notes section, your brother jotted down a license plate number. So, I hacked into the Colorado Department of Motor Vehicles and ran down the vehicle's title," Rodney explained.
"I'm guessing the title had a fake address, right?" Sheppard asked.
"Sadly, yes. It did tell us the name of the shell corporation that owns the vehicle, though. Taking the corporation name, I dug into it and found it is owned by another offshore corporation, which is owned by an offshore foundation that does its banking in Panama," Rodney explained.
"So, you're saying Panamanians kidnapped my brother?" John asked dubiously.
"No, they just bank there. Apparently, Panama's constitution assures banking secrecy. Anyway, that is a side point. The vehicle is equipped with OnStar. For a former covert operative, you would think they would realize OnStar is traceable," Rodney answered with an amused tone.
"So you know where the car that followed him is?" John asked hopefully.
"That was the easy part. It is sitting in Colorado, and is still in use," Rodney answered.
"Rodney, we are in Virginia. How does this help us?" John asked.
"Oh, I have that covered. Follow me," Rodney urged.
Making their way to the large barn near the house, the three men and a woman entered the wooden structure. In the center of the barn, a tarp was covering something large. In a flourish, Rodney removed the tarp to reveal a Jumper sitting there.
"Transportation is covered," Rodney said with a smug grin.
"If Teyla were here, it would feel like old times," Ronon said in a rare moment of nostalgia.
Arkos Shipyard
Sol Solar System
Milky Way
Having arrived an hour before, Ambassador Dorin made his way aboard the Ajax. Ten minutes later, Dorin entered the bridge of the powerful Earth warship. Around him, he saw bridge crew going about tasks in preparation for departure from Arkos Station. Seeing the Ambassador, Colonel Young quickly greeted the familiar face.
"Welcome aboard, Dorin," Young said cordially.
"Thank you for indulging my request, Colonel. I trust you have been well," Dorin replied.
"I have been well, thank you. How about yourself?" Young asked.
"Each day is a journey unto itself," Dorin replied lightly.
"Where are we heading exactly?" Young asked.
"Your people refer to the planet as P5X-777," Dorin replied.
"We have at-will departure clearance. You are more than welcome to remain on the bridge during departure if you wish," Young invited.
"I would enjoy that, thank you. Please carry on with your responsibilities. I will be a quiet spectator," Dorin replied.
"Helmsman, let's get underway," Young ordered.
Outside the vessel, umbilicals decoupled from the Ajax. The boarding platform pulled away, and the exterior airlock sealed shut. Slowly, the massive bulk of Ajax reversed from her mooring point. In docking points around her lay other Athena-class vessels at rest. Backing fully away, Ajax turned one hundred and eighty degrees in place. Facing the exit point, she slowly advanced toward the large energy barrier separating the station's interior from lifeless space.
Though cleared for departure, Ajax was not the only vessel departing. Moving toward the protective energy barrier, the USS Lewis and Clark silently glided past Ajax's nose. One of Earth's newest vessels, Lewis and Clark was not a warship. Instead, she was the lead ship in the growing class of underway fleet replenishment vessels. In her many storage holds, Lewis and Clark carried everything a deployed vessel might need.
Twenty seconds after the Lewis and Clark cleared the protective energy barrier, Ajax followed. As she neared the barrier, loudspeakers throughout Arkos announced 'Ajax departing.' Silently, the proud warship passed through the barrier protecting her creation. Clearing the barrier, Ajax's powerful sublight engines pushed her away from the Ancient-designed shipyard. At one hundred thousand kilometers from the station, Ajax accelerated greatly as a hyperspace window tore open. Into this tear in subspace she charged, vanishing from view as the window collapsed behind her.
P5X-777
Milky Way
An hour after her departure from Arkos Station and Earth's solar system, Ajax emerged from hyperspace. Standing before her was a large world, with tall trees and towering peaks. Orbiting this world was a lush moon that for a time had hosted then-Colonel Jack O'Neill and Harry Maybourne, a memory both men wished to forget.
Following standard procedures, the crew of the Ajax activated her powerful sensors at the world before them. While scans were performed on the planet and moons, sensor sweeps of the surrounding solar system were also performed. All findings came back clear.
"The threat board is clear, sir," the sensor officer stated.
"Bring us into orbit around the planet," Young ordered.
His eyes locked on the image of the world before him; Dorin's gaze was transfixed for a moment.
"We're here. It's your show now," Young said.
"I would like you and I to beam to the surface, Colonel," Dorin explained.
"Will you need a security team, sir?" the security officer on the bridge asked.
"I can assure you that will not be needed. I am ascended, and able to provide more than ample security," Dorin said with a grin.
"I think we can take care of ourselves. I am ready when you are, Ambassador," Young announced.
Having changed into his field gear during the journey, Young stood ready. A field of vibrant silver energy enveloped both Dorin and Young. Dematerializing, the two were transported to coordinates Dorin supplied during the passage from Arkos. Seconds later, they reappeared on a wooded bluff. Looking around, Young found the planet much like many others. Trees—wonderful trees. Some things never change. Following Dorin's lead, Young began to talk as they walked.
"Why am I here?" Young asked.
"Why are any of us here?" Dorin asked in reply.
"I didn't mean that in a metaphysical way, Dorin. Specifically the here and now. Why me?" Young asked.
"I have been fond of you since we first met aboard Destiny. I brought you here to show you something," Dorin hinted.
"What might that something be?" Young questioned.
"Something wonderful," Dorin replied cryptically.
"I still fail to see why you requested me specifically," Young stated.
"The Furling have always taken a long view toward history. A man of your caliber will be needed to assume control of your military interests in the universe someday. The events of today will greatly aid your candidacy toward that end," Dorin explained.
"So you are manipulating events on Earth?" Young asked with a chuckle.
"Everett, we have had more involvement in the development of certain aspects of your culture than you can imagine," Dorin said with a raised eyebrow.
"I know of your building of cities in South America," Young countered.
"Are you Christian, Colonel? Do you follow Christianity's teachings?" Dorin asked.
"I just try to be a good man," Young replied seriously.
"Seven thousand light years from Earth is a battlefield from long ago. There, the Furling and Asgard fleets dealt a decisive defeat to the System Lords of that time. To do this, we used a weapon of incredible power. This weapon detonated with the power of a supernova. Utterly defeated, the Goa'uld never again ventured toward the Passage of Nilor. As part of the treaty with them, the Goa'uld were forbidden from the Passage," Dorin explained.
"That must have been some weapon. When was this?" Young asked.
"In your planet's measure of time, this would have taken place in the year 7000 B.C.," Dorin replied.
"What does this have to do with Christianity, or have we changed subjects?" Young asked in confusion.
"The light from that weapon's detonation reached your world seven thousand years later," Dorin continued.
"Ok… I'm still not sure if I understand what you are trying to tell me," Young said in an unsure voice.
"Certain individuals on your planet interpreted this site as a sign from the divine. Later we learned of this. What your people call the Star of Bethlehem and a sign from the divine marking the arrival of the messiah as he was called was in fact a piece of Furling technology." Dorin grimaced.
"What?" Young asked, somewhat in shock.
"At that time we maintained a presence on Earth among your people. Seeing an opportunity to introduce concepts beneficial to your people's development, we took advantage of this 'sign from above'. Obviously, it was not always interpreted the way we hoped it would be." Dorin explained cautiously.
"So the foundations of Christianity…." Young said.
"Came from us." Dorin said, cutting him off.
"I don't know what to say." Young said, stunned at the revelation.
"Nor do we Everett. This is not something we can announce to your world. I would not repeat what I have told you to anyone. That would probably be best for all involved." Dorin suggested.
"Since we are laying our cards on the table here, I have a question for you." Young said, changing topics.
"Please, ask your question." Dorin welcomed.
"You are Furling, that is not in dispute. Can you explain to me why you look human?" Young asked.
"We took this form to ease the transition towards involvement with your people aboard Destiny. Now that you are accustomed to this appearance, we kept it." Dorin answered.
"So what do you really look like?" Young asked.
"You will see soon. We are near our destination." Dorin stated.
Reaching the summit of a large hill, the two men came to a stop. Looking down, Young saw a very large valley sprawling out into the distance. Turning towards the Furling, he began to speak.
"This conversation was a great build up to this. What am I looking at?" Young asked in confusion.
"This is the last standing vestige of the Furling Domain among the stars." Dorin said quietly.
"All I see is a valley." Young countered.
"Look again Colonel." Dorin urged.
In the valley below, shimmering waves began to obscure the valley floor, and the terrain in the distance. This shimmering began to darken in places, while taking shape. Seconds later, a city appeared where before nothing had been. Towers, domes, and high skyways could be seen. Even to a resident of Shambhala this newly appeared city would have been an impressive sight.
Glimmering paving stones on the ground of a rich blue color caught the sunlight. The towers and domes blazed in the sunlight, as light reflected from the vibrant veined stone.
"As your people expand throughout the stars, foundations for your domain will be needed. Let Thurvaraiyam Pathi be one of those foundations upon which that future is built." Dorin said solemnly.
PF9-583
Milky Way
Aelhaearn stepped out of his simple wood framed home. As the sun rose in the sky, he looked around at toys scattered about the porch. If he could not teach his children to care for and pick up their toys, how could he ever hope to turn over his land to them later? Maybe he simply had bad kids. Frustrated, Aelhaearn gathered the children's wood carved toys, putting them in the house. That done, he grabbed his wide brimmed straw hat and gathered his tools, placing them in his small wagon.
A farmer his entire life, Aelhaearn was descended from a long line of farmers who had worked this land. Like his father and grandfather before him, Aelhaearn grew his crops to feed his family and the small township. Once, the track of land he worked was much smaller. Then the fever came. The last outbreak of fever had taken a toll on this world. After the fever passed, the surviving farmers banded together to work the fields of families lost to the outbreak.
For many hours, Aelhaearn diligently tended to his crops. On this world, crops not only fed the inhabitants, they also produced income. Taking these crops off world for sale allowed for the purchase of certain necessities and luxuries. Without this revenue stream, an already difficult existence would be made much harder still.
Clearing his fields of pests, the farmer moved on to irrigating his fields. Interconnecting the irrigation channels of the new fields with those he had worked his entire life had taken six backbreaking weeks. Now that it was complete, he could flood his fields with single hand crank powered pump. If only his children were older, they could be out here tending to this task. Such was not the case though.
As water flowed through the many hand formed irrigation channels, the sound of flowing water filled the air. Strangely, the mule like beast used to draw his wagon seemed especially alert. Normally the docile beast barely took note of anything around it. Strange. As Aelhaearn pondered the beast's dilemma, the sky overhead darkened. Thinking a storm was rolling in, Aelhaearn turned his gaze towards the sky above.
Instead of black storm clouds, the farmer's eyes saw something he did not expect or understand. As far as he could see, a massive gray colored ship filled the sky. Though he was afraid, Aelhaearn did not run. His fear heightened when a smaller craft exited the belly of the craft towering overhead. This craft sped overhead, and circled the farmer three times before landing one hundred meters down the dirt road.
From this craft, exited three beings unlike any Aelhaearn had ever laid eyes upon before. Each was easily eight feet tall and heavily muscled. Their bronze skin shimmered like fire. The three beings began to approach Aelhaearn. Still the farmer did not run, though part of him wished he had. Coming up on the farmer, the three beings towered over the man. One of the beings stepped forward. Unsure of what to do, Aelhaearn dropped to his knees and laid his head on the soil. Part of him wanted to plead for his life.
"Please rise. I mean you no harm." The nearest large being said.
"I want no quarrel. All I ask is that you leave my family and I in peace." Aelhaearn pleaded.
"We mean neither you nor your family harm. What is it you think we intend?" the being asked.
"You mean to enslave us!" Aelhaearn said in a voice dripping with sorrow.
"All life is precious. We would never enslave anyone." the being replied sincerely.
"This isn't fair! My kids are bad kids. I break my back tending this land to feed them. Fever ravages the village often." Aelhaearn sobbed.
"I am Sabis, leader of the Volcae. Do you have a name?" Sabis asked.
"I am Aelhaearn." the farmer answered timidly.
"Aelhaearn, my people are here for a purpose. We know your world possesses a marker of the path." Sabis explained.
"Marker? What marker do you speak of?" Aelhaearn asked.
"The large ring shaped object opposite the village." Sabis explained.
"The Chappa'ai?" Aelhaearn asked.
"If that is what you call the marker of the path, then yes. My people are following this path to find our new home. To make that possible, we must erase the path as we travel it. We also wish to harvest the materials this world is composed of to assist us on our great journey." Sabis explained.
"You want to harvest this world? We do not have much here, but this world is all we have. Take this from us and you are taking our very lives! I beseech you to let us continue to live our lives!" Aelhaearn pleaded.
"You have a harsh existence here, ravaged by disease. You need somewhere to lay your head, do you not?" Sabis asked.
"Yes! We do!" Aelhaearn replied in desperation.
"Gather your people. We will do something about this. More of your kind are among my people on the path." Sabis announced.
"All of my people?" Aelhaearn asked.
"Yes, it must be all of your people. Now go, we will wait here for your return." Sabis said.
It took many hours, but the entire human population of this world and their belongings were collected. This new group of refugees was transported to the large vessel overhead. As their hosts explained it, their great journey was just beginning. Three days after the refugees were relocated aboard the Volcae ship, the world known as PF9-583 would be no more.