SGA-15 Brimstone

by Wilson, David Niall

  “They don’t seem to be part of one race at all,” Sheppard commented, nodding across the room. “I thought you were all Ancients?”

  “Indeed,” Saul said. “Most of us still bear the appearance with which we began our lives, but some have chosen to find their pleasure in… reconstruction. There are many ways to amuse one’s self and, believe me, we have traveled all of those roads from end to end.

  “You are welcome to take part in any of our entertainments. There are games of chance, refreshments, musicians — if you delve deeper into the city you’ll find theater and comedy, battles and anything else you could possibly desire as… diversion.

  “In fact,” he said, turning to sweep his arm out in a gesture encompassing the room and the city beyond, “I think you’ll find yourselves very popular. As I said before, it’s been a very long time since we had any visitors here. We have been too long without variety, and it has not been good for us. Please, make yourselves at home.”

  “You said that we’d be able to send someone to the surface to make contact with Atlantis,” Sheppard said. “I’d like to take you up on that. Now. We have a scheduled report to make and we’re already overdue. They’re going to be opening the gate and expecting to contact us and if we don’t report in…”

  “Of course,” Saul said.

  He turned and gestured to a thin, dark man standing along one wall. The man was not dressed in the same level of finery as the others and his expression was devoid of emotion. He wore what appeared to be a military uniform, or that of some sort of security guard, and there was a weapon holstered on his belt. He stopped a few feet away from Saul.

  “Henrik, I need you to take Colonel Sheppard, or one of his people, to the surface and out to the gate,” Saul said. “They will need to get close enough to the gate to get their signal past the dampeners. When they have established contact with Atlantis, you will escort them back down into the city. I don’t have to tell you to be discreet.”

  “I’m very sorry, but it can’t be done, sir,” the man said.

  Saul grew very still. He controlled his voice with an obvious effort. “I gave you an order, citizen,” he said softly. “These are our guests, and we owe them this courtesy. What prevents it?”

  “The storms have blown in, sir,” the man said, still emotionless. “There is no way to make it to the surface without raising shields over the outer walls of the city. That would prevent communications and might draw…unwanted attention.”

  “How long?”

  “The storm is expected to last through the night,” the man replied. “There is no way anything can pass on the surface, but it should blow over by morning. I will post a watch on the monitors…the moment it is clear, I will send word.”

  “Very well.” Saul turned away, and the uniformed man melted back against the wall, becoming part of the shadows. “I’m afraid we have a problem,” Saul said. “I can offer you accommodations until morning, and the hospitality of the city, but you will be unable to leave before dawn. Admah has long borne the brunt of such storms. Sand blows across the surface of the planet with such velocity it would flay any man who stepped into it, and I’m afraid that even if we could get you safely to the surface you would not be able to send or receive a radio signal. We have had to raise our shields once more, to protect the lower city; you may have noted the effect the storms have had on the gardens and the outer walls. Our scientists tell me they’re caused by the occasional shifts orchestrated by the star drive you are so concerned about, Dr. McKay. Do you have an opinion?”

  Rodney was torn between the chance to show off and the desire not to be drawn in. Saul’s eyes twinkled, and it was obvious he didn’t really care what the answer would be.

  “It makes sense,” Rodney said. “Even small axis and orbital shifts can cause cataclysmic changes in planetary systems. I’d have to do more research, of course, but…”

  “Perhaps another time,” Saul said. “Eventually I’m sure you’ll find your way into the company of like minds. We have some truly brilliant men in the city. I am sure they would find you…amusing.”

  Rodney felt himself flush, but he managed, for once, to keep his mouth shut.

  Sheppard’s eyebrow lifted, and he studied Saul’s face carefully. There was an edge to Saul’s conversation. Despite all the welcomes and well wishes, there was something the man wasn’t sharing.

  “It looks like we’re here for the night,” Sheppard told his team. “We’ll get someone with a radio up to the surface as soon as possible. If Atlantis doesn’t have the gate open for our report, we’ll dial it ourselves.”

  “We’ve had guest quarters prepared in the delta wing,” Saul said. Then, turning to Henrick, he said, “Show our guests to their rooms, and see to it that they are provided with refreshments. I want them to be as comfortable as possible.”

  “Follow me, please.” Henrick started off without speaking another word and without waiting to see if they followed. There was obviously no love lost between the guard and Saul.

  Ronon and Sheppard exchanged a glance, and then followed.

  Though none of the activities around them ceased, every pair of eyes in the room turned as the group passed. Women sized them up, men took their measure. There were smiles and whispered comments. More than once fits of giggles broke out. Then the team was out of the room and moving deeper into the city, leaving the huge chamber to return to its revelry.

  Chapter Ten

  The team was led to a series of rooms that were lavish by any standards, although their guide strode down the hall without acknowledging any of it. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed at the task of escorting them, or simply bored. He opened one door after another along a lushly carpeted passageway until he had settled them all in, two to a room. Teyla had a room to herself. He spent a bit longer at her doorway, and when he asked if there was anything she needed, anything he could do for her, his eyes lingered on her face. She cast a glance at Sheppard, and then shook her head. There was little humor in her polite smile.

  She pulled back into her room and closed the door. Henrick stared at the doorway a moment longer, and then led the rest of them to their quarters.

  As with most of the other rooms in Admah, the floors were of polished tile, or possibly stone. They were covered with thick rugs and heavy carpet in bright reds, purples, and yellows. Tapestries hung on the walls and the beds were covered in soft velvet. It looked more like the accommodations at a palace than guest quarters for travelers. It was, in fact, the most decadent lodging that Sheppard or any of the others had ever seen, but they kept their silence until their guide bowed low and left them alone.

  Then Sheppard glanced around. “Is it just me or is anybody else reminded of Caesar’s Palace on steroids?”

  “I was thinking a medieval Disneyland,” Cumby agreed.

  “I like it,” Ronon said. “They appreciate a good fight.”

  Teyla smiled, but said nothing.

  “We have to find a way to contact Atlantis,” Sheppard said. “There’s something going on here, and I don’t like it. The hospitality seems genuine enough, but that storm sure rolled in conveniently.”

  He glanced across at Rodney.

  “We need you to find us a spot — any spot — where we can get a signal through when Atlantis opens the gate for a SITREP. Can you do that?”

  “Of course,” Rodney replied. “I can tell you where that spot is right now.”

  “Really? Well suppose you pry yourself away from the scanner for a minute and tell me.”

  Rodney glanced up and glared. “It’s on the surface. In fact, it’s on the surface, outside the shield protecting the city, probably in that stone circle surrounding the gate.”

  Sheppard folded his arms over his chest and scowled.

  “What did you want me to say?” Rodney protested. “Maybe I could run around the city, broadcasting randomly in all directions and looking for a gap in their shield? ‘Can you hear me now?’ ‘Can you hear me now?’ I�
�m working on it. I’m sure we’ll find something — but there’s one thing holding me back.”

  “What’s that?”

  “People interrupting me to see if I’ve discovered something, when I should be working.”

  “Just get us a link to Atlantis,” Sheppard snapped.

  “What do you make of all those posters?” Cumby said, changing the subject. “Do you think any of those creatures could possibly be real?”

  “Probably not.” Ronon’s hand dropped to the butt of his gun, and he sighed.

  “Don’t sound so disappointed,” Sheppard grinned.

  Ronon shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot of things, but nothing like any of those.”

  “I guess it could be some sort of a movie,” Cumby suggested, “or a staged computer generated entertainment. Then again, until I came to Atlantis, I’d never seen anything like a Wraith either. And what was it Saul said when I asked about the creature on the poster? ‘It was one of a kind.’”

  “Good point.” Ronon smiled, a feral baring of teeth. It was obvious that he wouldn’t be disappointed if one of the creatures turned out to be real, or for that matter if all of them did.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Rodney muttered. He turned the scanner one way, and then another, frowning.

  Sheppard drew closer, peering over McKay’s shoulder. “What doesn’t make any sense?”

  “If there are storms up there like the ones Saul described, I’d be able to find some trace of them. I can’t. I can’t find a single anomaly in the pressure or weather patterns.”

  “What if your signal isn’t reaching the surface?” Cumby suggested. “I mean, to scan for weather patterns, you’d have to be able to reach beyond the city…”

  “I don’t know if it is or not, do I?”

  “Wait a minute,” Sheppard cut in. “Are you telling me that you think Saul is lying about the storm?”

  “Yes, I think they’re lying. That’s exactly what I think. I think they don’t want us getting to the surface, opening the gate, or contacting Atlantis. I think they don’t want us knowing why they knocked a moon onto a collision course with the sun. I think being here is a very bad idea, and I think we should be on our way back to the gate right this moment.”

  “Okay then,” Sheppard said. “We need to find a way to get someone to the surface.”

  “I’ll go,” Ronon offered. His hand had already dropped to the butt of his gun.

  “Hold on,” Sheppard said. “I don’t want anyone roaring around, weapons drawn. They’re acting suspiciously, but so far they’ve offered no direct threat. I want to get in contact with Atlantis, but I don’t want to tip our hand until we’re absolutely certain we have no choice.”

  “Oh, sure, they’re the perfect hosts so far,” Rodney said. “Other than the whole driving us into a sun thing, I can’t see any reason for complaint.”

  Sheppard ignored him. “Our best bet is to go back into the city and mingle. They invited us to sample their hospitality and we’re going to do that. I want all of you to keep your eyes and ears open and find us a way back to the upper levels. We also need to see if we can get a feel for their motives. If there isn’t a storm, what reason could they possibly have for keeping us here? We need to find out why they’ve changed the city’s orbit, and how, or if, they intend to stop it.”

  “Of course they intend to stop it,” Rodney cut in. “Or change it again. Why would anybody in their right mind launch themselves toward the sun if they couldn’t stop it?”

  “Can you stop it, Rodney?” Sheppard leaned closer, trying to get a feel for what the man was studying so intently. “The planet, I mean. If you got into the system, could you change the course?”

  “That would depend.”

  “Depend on what?”

  “Do you really want me to go into it? Whether the guidance system is intact. How much power they have diverted to the star drive. The age of the parts. How long they’ve been inactive. How much power is available. There are multiple ZPMs, and they seem to have plenty of power, but I don’t really know that until I get a chance to measure their charge. There are too many variables.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Right now I can’t even get into their system.”

  “On Atlantis,” Teyla said, “there is access to the main computer system in almost every room.”

  “Yes, yes,” Rodney said, rolling his hand impatiently. “We aren’t on Atlantis.”

  “Dark, and light,” Teyla replied. “The cities are twins. I believe we will find the control panels here.”

  Sheppard nodded. “Rodney, stay put and do what you can to get into their system, everyone else with me. Let’s see if we can’t find out a little more about these people — and whatever it is they’re up to here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  As Sheppard retraced their tracks, the sounds of the inner city floated back to him. The halls of the huge building spun off in all directions, but the heartbeat of the city pulsed in that single chamber. Voices and music echoed down the hall. The sound confused their ears, reverberating off the walls and polished floor. It seemed as if it were a part of the walls, its essence powering the people rather than the people creating the sound. The city had a presence all its own.

  Eventually he caught the glitter of lights ahead and stepped out into the huge, pavilion-like chamber they had visited before. Coming into it from the opposite side, they had a view around the corners to the right and left that had not been afforded by the main entrance. The place was a labyrinth of sights and sounds. The young woman still danced on her raised platform and her eyes turned toward them briefly before she spun away and quickened her rhythm. As before, the musician did not look up, paid no notice to anything around him, least of all the dancer. His fingers sped on the strings of his instrument, matching her tempo. The two of them seemed to be joined in some way that went beyond the physical, two parts of one performance.

  “Okay, we’ll find a central spot to use as a base of operations, and then spread out and see what you can see, learn, or figure out. Do your best to play along with whatever they have in mind; try to blend,” Sheppard said. “Anything you can find out might make a difference.”

  The group wandered over to a long and sinuous bar behind which a small man shuffled bottles, bored and purposeless. He looked like he was killing time. Sheppard stepped up to the bar and leaned on it as he scanned the room. It was a quiet spot, for the moment, and seemed as good as any to take in the layout of the place.

  When the bartender turned toward them his face transformed. He beamed as he spread his hands flat on the bar’s surface. “Welcome! Welcome, my friends. My name is Damien, Damien Walz, and I am at your service.”

  “Damien…” Sheppard flung a glance at Teyla. It was impossible to tell if the barman was simply happy they’d chosen to speak with him first, or putting on an act for their benefit. In the end, he supposed, it didn’t matter — if they were going to mingle they had to start somewhere. “Good to meet you, Damien Walz.”

  Still beaming, he said, “What would be your pleasure tonight? If I don’t have it in a bottle, describe it, and I’ll see what I can do to recreate it for you.”

  “That sounds great,” Sheppard said. “I’ll take you up on that in a little bit, but for the moment I’m looking for Saul. Any idea where I might find him?”

  “He’ll be here soon enough,” Walz said. “He’s not going to give up the chance to show you all off. So, while you’re waiting, you must have a drink! I insist!”

  Sheppard started to frown, caught himself, and smiled. He set his elbows on the bar and leaned forward as casually as he could manage. “Okay, since you insist, what do you recommend?”

  “You must try the house wine.” The voice was melodic, provocative, and it came from very close to his left ear. “The grapes are organic, pressed between the soft pale thighs of virgins and lovingly bottled in crystal decanters.”

  Sheppard’s eyebrow rose. He turned slowly to find himself face to face w
ith a tall, slender woman in a very sheer evening gown. Her hair was dark with highlights that caught in the flickering glow of the room and trailed lazily back over her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and deep, glinting somewhere between blue and gray. She sipped from a graceful goblet and smiled at him over the rim.

  “Are you one of the virgins?” Sheppard said. “Because if you are, I’ll take two bottles.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Oh my, no. I treasure my entertainment far too much to have missed out on that. Damien, let’s have a decanter of your wine for our guests. On me.”

  Damien, the bartender, moved to gather the decanter and glasses. He set them out before the team and filled each glass.

  “Watch her,” he said, winking at Sheppard. “When she says the wine is going to be on her, you never know just what she might mean…”

  Sheppard lifted his glass to the bartender, and then to the woman. “Thank you for the wine. My name is John Sheppard.”

  She placed a hand on his wrist and smiled. “Well, then, hello John Sheppard. It is a good thing that it was I, and not Damien, who first suggested the wine.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because,” she said, “we have a custom here in Adamah. No traveler should taste our wine for the first time but from a woman’s lips. Failure to comply can… sour the experience.” She leaned in closer.

  “But I don’t even know your name,” Sheppard said.

  “Mara.”

  Her voice had grown husky and deep. She lifted the glass and took a long sip, her chin tilting upward as she offered her lips to Sheppard. Her eyes never left his.

  “When in Rome,” Sheppard whispered. Leaning in he brushed his lips across hers, very lightly, and drank. Their lips touched for mere seconds but it was enough to stop his breath. When they parted, Sheppard was grinning from ear to ear.