David Wilson - Brimstone

To the right, on a slightly raised platform, a woman danced. There was a man seated on a stool beside her, bent over an odd stringed instrument. It vaguely resembled a guitar, but it had three necks. The musician’s hand flowed from one to the next, and by some trick of electronics, or acoustics, the notes from whichever strings he left lingered as he plucked the next into life. The woman wore only the sheerest of gowns, and she danced seductively, her eyes closed and her lips provocatively parted. Those gathered nearby watched, but the musician never looked up.

Straight across from them a group of tables was arranged in a semi-circle. The people gathered around them wore a startling diversity of color and style. One man lounged back in his chair, dressed head to foot in black leather. His hair was a bright, shocking white, and his shoulders were almost as wide as Ronon’s. At his table sat a very slender woman in a long green dress that shimmered in the dim light, a squat, burly man with a beard, and a blond woman dressed in brilliant blue. Her hair was piled on top of her head and tied in place with strings of crystal. None of them seemed quite…natural. It was as if their personas had been donned like clothing, or a disguise — a caricature of decadence.

“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.

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.