Orsus Comitas

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AN: I know I need to continue Rules of War, but my roommate did this to me. Also, I have little knowledge of Seasons 3 or 4 of Farscape, so using what I do have, this fic can obviously be considered an AU.

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Chapter One

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"So, what exactly is it?"

Asked McKay for the umpteen millionth time.

"I said I don't know, Rodney," Sheppard berated, half-consciously gripping the controls of the Puddlejumper as it loomed closer to the gargantuan alien ship. "Why don't you sit down and start running those scans again? Because I'm sure as hell not going to believe that this thing is reading as a life sign."

As if to spite him, the viewscreen in front of suddenly displayed a grid with a single flashing dot caught amidst its pale blue crosses. To be fair, it was a big dot and it was white instead of red. Even though the other sensors indicated it was composed of mostly organic material, the Ancient technology obviously didn't believe it was Wraith.

It was a small comfort, considering how it was somehow dragging them into its docking bay. McKay called it a tractor beam. Sheppard called him a geek, and that had been the end of it.

The alien ship was easily the size of Daedalus, if not bigger. For all exterior purposes, it was no more than a husk drifting aimlessly through the vacuum of space.

The colonel wasn't anxious, per se, because the Jumper did only recognize one life sign. Not only that, but also the ship itself—or the creature, maybe—didn't have any obvious weapons outside its hull (skin?). So if it wasn't Wraith, it wasn't occupied, and it wasn't armed, he was pretty sure it wasn't dangerous. He remembered learning something about whales on the Discovery channel. They were supposed to have a reasonably high level of intelligence for non-sentient animals, and for all he knew this could be the Pegasus Galaxy's version of a space whale trying to be friendly.

Yeah, space whales. With tractor beams and docking bays. He wouldn't put it past Pegasus to pull this out of its enormous, galactic a—

"Sheppard," said Ronon, sitting behind him. Sheppard snapped back to reality and realized that the Jumper had picked up speed and was starting to pass into the cavernous opening that served as a port. None of the controls would respond to him, so the most he could do was hope the inertial dampeners wouldn't fail them now. Landing was going to be rough.

They touched down with a jolt that sent the Jumper skidding across the floor. Feeling the ship's controls jump back to life, Sheppard focused rigidly on the forward thrusters, trying to slow it down enough to get it back under control. After a few seconds, they slid to a halt. The hangar echoed eerily around them.

A few moments passed before Sheppard turned and stood up. "Okay, last one to the beach is a rotten egg."

Teyla and Ronon regarded him strangely, but Rodney just snorted and followed him to the back of the Jumper. His PDA verified that there was atmosphere inside the larger ship, which made the need for Hazmat suits…well, not a need. This was good, seeing as they only had two suits and four people. Whoever planned this mission clearly had problems with mathematics.

"Judging by our tremendous success with dead, abandoned alien spaceships in the past, Colonel, I'm sure we can expect the Wraith to show up anytime soon," McKay was saying, countered by the sound of the rear hatch lowering itself outside.

"I'm sure we will, Rodney," said the colonel, stepping out into the breezy, somewhat smelly innards of the ship (whale?). "And that's why we're here, to find out if this thing is a threat. That includes keeping it from the Wraith."

"Which is the military equivalent of saying 'let's blow it up'," muttered the scientist, tromping down the newborn ramp and down to the floor.

"It probably won't come to that," said Sheppard unconvincingly. He was too distracted by the surrounding bay to say anything else. The floor was smooth, almost metallic and the ceiling had a strange, ribbed-like pattern for a structural design. It reminded him disturbingly of a Wraith Hive ship, right down to the mood lights and the creepy organic walls. Right now his mind was leaning a little more towards 'deadly Wraith trap' than 'friendly space whale'.

There was a sudden burst of movement and a pair of white glowing eyes appeared from underneath the bulkhead of a smaller, more compact module jut to their right. Sheppard raised his P90 towards the little creature. Another one appeared just under the wing. It was too dark to see much more than the shape of them, but they scuttled across the floor like a couple of giant beetles with lightbulbs attached to their eyestalks.

Ronon armed his weapon with a dull whine. Rodney crept backwards as the two rodent-sized druids moved towards them. They stopped a few meters away, their eyes wavering curiously.

"Uh, hi," Sheppard said awkwardly, not entirely sure what to make of their greeting party. "We're peaceful explorers from a planet called Earth. We just happened to be in the area and thought we'd drop by…y'know, greet the new neighbours. Swap a few recipes. Get to know each other."

One of the metal doodads turned on its mate, lowering its eyestalks and raising them again in a bizarre imitation of a shrug. The other one darted forward and nudged his boot. He stepped back. It bunted him again. Lifting its eyes to look at him for a moment, it then spun a full one hundred eighty degrees and scurried off towards the open hangar.

"Hey, wait—" said Sheppard. But they were moving too quickly to pay him any attention.

"I'm not entirely sure, but that either meant 'go away, we don't like you', or 'follow me'." Rodney squinted at him—at least, he thought Rodney squinted at him, since it was too dark to tell. "At least they don't seem all that aggressive. Should we follow them?"

As if on cue, a third one of the mechanical little creatures nudged the astrophysicist from behind. McKay stumbled forward, yelping in surprise. Sheppard grinned at him.

"They seem…adamant that we follow them," Teyla suggested. "And I do not sense any nearby Wraith."

"Doesn't mean there aren't any." Ronon reluctantly lowered his pistol and disarmed it. "I'm ready to find out."

The adjoining corridors were no better than the cavern behind them. Only the glow from the eyes of their "guide" and the lights on the team's P90s lit the gloomy atmosphere of the ship. More of the small creature-like droids appeared, each with its own separate agenda that didn't involve the newcomers. Their 'guide' stopped ever now and then to wait for them to catch up. Sheppard had a near irresistible urge to ask it to take them to its leader.

"Teyla, how are those spidey senses feeling?" he said quietly over his shoulder.

"I am still not detecting the presence of Wraith, however…" There was an edge of restlessness in her tone. "There is something…else. I feel…anticipation, distress; even confusion."

"What is that supposed to mean, 'you feel'?" said McKay.

"I…believe this ship may be trying to communicate with me."

Sheppard stopped to face the Athosian, wary. "But that would make it a Wraith ship, Teyla. Now unless you've got some other…weird alien DNA in there that might explain why a living spaceship is giving you weird vibes, I'm turning this mission around and we're heading back to Atlantis."

Somewhat affronted by this, she stood straighter and spoke in a low, determined voice. Ahead of them, several pairs of glowing eyes floated, waiting. "There are no Wraith here, of that I am certain," the Athosian said coolly. "My affiliation with this ship may only be the result of a similarity between its DNA and that of the Wraith. There is no other alien DNA…in here."

Her venomous reply made Sheppard flinch unconsciously. Sure, there were subtler ways to tell him he was being a jackass, but Teyla always chose the most direct route. There was no reason to not trust her instincts, but he couldn't shake the feeling there was something Wraith-like about this place. Not for the first time today, he wished he'd chosen the kid's planet over the one with the spooky deserted alien craft.

Three or more of the goggle-eyed droids crowded around their feet and urged them forward. Thinking back to Teyla's synopsis of her 'feelings', he kind of understood how these things were acting: nervous, impatient, and obviously willing to run them over if they didn't move. Like miniature Lassies, every one of them trying to tell them how Timmy fell down the well.

The dark corridor eventually opened up into a larger chamber. The beam of his light cut across the shapes of several pedestals, each set with several dimly glowing patterns. Here, the walls had their own luminescence—faint but noticeable. He could see the little beetle-bots clearer now, and they clearly saw him. They didn't stop there, however, but charged deeper into the ship.

After a few minutes of staring at the same, darkened walls and the odd droid scurrying past his feet, he found himself feeling hopelessly lost. A second thought entered his mind. Maybe it was best to turn back now while he still had somewhat of an idea on how to get back to the hangar.

They banked around a corner, where the supposed 'wall' on their left suddenly pivoted—opening a door that he hadn't spotted in the near darkness. Exchanging looks that were little more than bare glints in the dimness, the team stepped into the chamber beyond.

Sheppard abruptly tripped over a beetle-bot. Their little "guide" had chose to stop in the middle of the floor. Not caring that is had almost been squashed by the tall, two-legged human, the droid wound across the floor until it was several yards ahead of them, where it attached itself somehow to the base of a more vertical surface. In a flash, it vanished into the pitch darkness. Sadly, the team's surroundings did not provide enough colour in the cast of their flashlights to give an impression of this new room.

"What is this place?" said Ronon with intent.

Sheppard sighed inwardly. "That's a good question."

"There are more of the creatures," Teyla announced, looking down at their feet. Rodney yelped and backed away from the sudden group of beetle-bots crowding around the team. "I do not think they mean us harm. Perhaps they are only trying to convey a message."

"Well, we can all see how effective that is when we can't even see past our P90s," snapped McKay. There was the brief sound of rustling cloth and the scrape of Velcro. A dull snap, and suddenly their surroundings were bathed in the gentle, neon light of a glowstick.

"Whoa."

Whoever said it knew exactly what he was thinking. 'Whoa' didn't even put it into context. The team now stood in a large, practically hollow chamber. There was a bridge connecting their half of the room to a section in the middle—a shelf that protruded from a pit that extended far below their feet and around the chamber. And on this shelf sat a circular wall or a basin, combined by the reflective surfaces of several hundred different console types. In the very center of it was an alien—a very large, dead alien—that looked like it could wrestle a Puddlejumper and win.

Pegasus Galaxy had plenty of strange creatures to boast about, but this was a first for him. Sheppard and the remainder of his team drew forward down the bridge and towards the gargantuan cadaver. He eyed it skeptically. "Is anyone else thinking Alien right now, or is it just me?"

Rodney was surprisingly the first to get over the shock of seeing a dead alien smack dab in the core of an abandoned, organic ship. Giving the setup a decent berth, the astrophysicist fingered another glowstick and snapped it, providing them with twice the illumination as before. Now they lingered just a couple of arm lengths away. Sheppard noticed Ronon eyeing the huge, claw-equipped arms attached limply to the lifeless body. A strong enough swipe and one of those could take snap someone's neck.

The broad face of the creature was tilted down, its bulbous set of eyes closed, shrouded under the wide, shell-like crown that covered its head. Sheppard was momentarily distracted by one of the yellow, goggle-eyed droids that crept along the surface of the wall and paused a safe distance away.

"This is incredible," McKay's voice lured his attention to the edge of the shelf. The scientist was using his flashlight to examine the pit that extended far below them. "This is…by far, the most incredible thing I've seen since…well, since ZedPMs." His tone was incredulous. "Just from what I can see, it looks like it's rooted directly into the ship's organic material. I mean, who knows what kind of power source this thing uses?"

"Yeah, Beckett's gonna have a field day," Sheppard agreed distantly. Something didn't feel quite right. "Don't touch anything, Rodney. The last thing we need is a giant alien…virus running around Atlantis. For all we know, it could be the reason this place is dead."

Snorting, McKay backed away from the edge—and almost toppled over one of the small beetle-bots as it whisked past his feet. To catch his balance, his hand shot out and grabbed the edge of the circular wall.

As if on cue, the enormous console lit itself up. A yellow droid responded to this by reaching out with a slender little arm and prodding the dead alien with a small electric jolt.

The "dead" alien twitched, its eyes snapping open immediately. It lifted its head groggily, making a bothered sound that sounded like a groan.

"What the—it's alive?" howled McKay, retreating so quickly that he fell on his back and slid across the floor.

In response, the creature slowly turned its head to gaze at them all, blinking sleepily. And then its mouth opened, and it uttered something that sounded like, "Moya…?"

"Don't," Sheppard ordered the Satedan quickly, knowing Ronon's first impulse. "We don't know what it wants. We're not here to hurt you," he said, addressing the drowsy creature.

It only regarded him with half-lidded eyes, obviously not understanding him. It spoke again, but this time the words were completely alien. When Sheppard didn't answer it, it repeated itself a little more passionately. Somehow, he got the impression that it didn't like him. It also seemed surprised that he didn't understand its words.

Suddenly, he felt a pinprick in his calf. He jerked his leg forward and twisted his body around to find one of the yellow droids looking up at him, one of its 'arms' attached to something that looked disturbingly like an injection tool. Sensing his angry reaction, it reversed and whizzed away.

Ronon armed his blaster, resonating a high-pitched whine. He aimed it at the alien's head, nanoseconds from pulling the trigger. All he needed was a signal.

Sheppard found the alien staring at him mistrustfully. "Who…are you?" it asked, in English. "Where are the others? What have you done to them?"

Eyeing the creature's arms warily, which were now slowly starting to move, the colonel replied. "I have no idea what you're talking about. We just arrived on this ship, and so far you're the only…uh, person we've found."

It was the alien's turn to eye him. He shifted uncomfortably under its scrutiny. "Who are you?" it said again.

"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Air Force," was the automatic response. "Dr. McKay, Teyla and Ronon," he went on, gesturing to his respective teammates. "And you are…?"

"I am Moya's Pilot," it said. "Moya tells me you arrived on one of her creator's ships. Is that what brought you here?"

"Colonel, what exactly are you doing?" Rodney butted in, stepping closer. "You actually…understand what it's saying?"

John looked at him. "You can't?"

"I had a DRD inject translator microbes into your system," explained Pilot. "Others will be along shortly to give the same treatment to your friends."

"You said 'others'," Sheppard said, ignoring the indication that he'd just been inoculated with some strange alien micromachines. "There are others like you aboard this ship?"

"Like me? Of course not. There is only one Pilot to every Leviathan. The remaining crew is of a variety of species."

"Sheppard, tell us what it's saying," Ronon said lowly. "If it did something to you—"

John waved him off with a slight twitch of his hand. "We're human," he told the Pilot. "The Tau'ri. Like I said, we just got here, and so far everything we've encountered had been kinda new to us. If you're the ship's pilot, then where's the rest of the crew?"

"Ow!" Rodney's annoyed cry of pain interrupted the double-sided interrogation. Sheppard whipped his head toward him, to find the physicist kicking away one of the DRDs that had recently poked him with a needle. "It just stabbed me!"

"The microbes are harmless," Pilot explained patiently, large, orange eyes blinking at the scientist. "As for your question, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, I have no idea. I was hoping you would enlighten me. For some reason, I am unable to locate them."

There was a note of panic in the pilot's voice that just couldn't be insincere. Rodney was starting, gaping and being all that much more useless. The DRDs swirled around their feet aimlessly—and Sheppard was just starting to notice how most of them didn't have any direction, as though they were disoriented or confused by some unseen force.

"I'll tell you what," said Sheppard. "We'll help you find them. That's assuming they're still on board this ship…Moya, is it?"

Pilot tilted his head at him. "Why?" he asked with a suspicious tone.

"Because we're good people, and that's we do." He tried not to sound condescending, but the big, four-armed alien reminded him of a certain Asgard that didn't take kindly to him. Elizabeth would lecture his ear off if he didn't at least try to make allies out of these people—'people' being the tentative word, since he had no idea if these 'other' crewmembers even existed. "Tell us who to look for, and we'll see what we can do."

The alien gazed on, but wasn't entirely appeased.

"Hmm. I suppose have little choice but to agree with you, for now," he said flatly. Abruptly, he extended one of his clawed arms towards the colonel.

That did it. Without a sound of warning, Ronon fired a single, red burst of energy at the nearest column protruding from the Pilot's console. It was meant as a warning shot, but it had barely stopped sizzling before a pale blur streaked from the shadows and charged at the tall Satedan.

"D'argo, no!" cried Pilot.

The 'blur' turned out to be a young human boy, who tackled Ronon with a throaty growl. He clung to the specialist's arm, trying to wrestle his gun out of his hand—and losing. "Leave him alone, you big ugly frellwit! He wouldn't hurt a negnik! You're not taking Moya and Pilot away! I'll kill all of you! I'll kill you!"

"Stop, D'Argo! Please!" Pilot panicked, waving two of his arms frantically.

Ronon forcibly separated the boy from his arm—only to have D'Argo attack his gut, sending surprisingly powerful, tight-fisted punches into the grown man's abdomen. Ronon grunted, and pried his assailant away, still grappling against his fragile limbs. But when he tried to pin the boy with a hooked arm, D'Argo bit down into his hand.

Ronon bellowed from the pain and released the boy. The eight-year-old dashed away from the towering Satedan and scrambled onto Pilot's console, taking cover under the safety of Pilot's claws. Pilot just sighed heavily, long ago having grown used to the boy's withdrawn, aggressive conduct. It was the Peacekeeper genetics that made him so violent. It was not D'Argo's fault.

"What the hell?" barked Ronon.

"He's human," said Sheppard, almost accusingly. "What is a human kid doing on this ship?"

"He is only half human," Pilot corrected, lowering an arm to cover the boy protectively. "And if he is harmed in any way, I greatly doubt you will make it off of Moya alive."

"We have no intention of harming him," Teyla assured him, taking John by surprise. One of the little droids had given her the miracle language shot while he wasn't looking. "We only wish to help you."

"Liars," muttered D'Argo from under his shield.

"D'Argo, where are your parents?" said Pilot, craning his great head to look at the boy.

D'Argo curled into a tighter ball and didn't stop glaring at Ronon. "Sleeping," he said at last. "They just went to sleep, and didn't wake up. Just like you, and Rygel, and Gala. Even Moya's asleep. I thought you were never going to wake up!"

"That's absurd," said Moya's Pilot, taken aback. "My readings say we've been drifting for three solar days. That would mean we've all been unconscious since out last Starburst."

Sulking, the boy nodded firmly. "It's them," he accused, pointing at Sheppard's team. "They're going to bring the Plokavians here and take Moya away!"

"What?" Pilot turned his head sharply on the group. "What is this about?"

Struggling away from the pilot's arm, the boy leaned over the edge of the console to glare intently with his hands gripping the edge. "They're working with the Plokavians. They're going to capture Moya and sell her in the Blind Markets, and they're going to kill my mom and dad!"

It was right about this time that Sheppard got that sinking feeling in his stomach.

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TBC