Work Text:
The 10,000 Year Old Electric Slide
By: SA (flyingtapes)
Generally speaking, exploring the city was Very Far Down on the list of things that needed to be done at Atlantis. Zelenka had not been involved in any base programs before coming to Atlantis, but even so he understood the benefits of restricting the actual inhabited space for the base to a limited sphere. It lessened the burden on the power generators, made daily interaction more manageable, and allowed for a more detailed investigation of the space they did inhabit.
This wasn't to say that they didn't open up new parts. Two years, while a short time in terms of establishing a presense and routine in a place, was still long enough that their company had nearly tripled since the first Atlantis team was sent wide-eyed and scared through the gate. Even counting casualties, that first year. So additional living quarters had opened up, giving the anthropologists even more to swoon at as they cooed over dust-covered desks and shower units. It always surprised Zelenka how little the Ancients left behind, really. His own apartment, now packed and stored in his parents' house, had been filled with junk and journals in every corner. Even as advanced as the Ancients were, they were still human. Probably. More or less. Humans had a tendency to collect stuff.
The last place that had been canvassed was the path to the docking bay. Since the jumpers were integrated into the interior of Atlantis, there hadn't been a need to work with the exterior landing platforms. But the Daedalus changed everything, and there was a particularly rushed and comical exploration of the C section of city to make sure that, were the crew of the Daedalus to come aboard (more or less) they wouldn't fall into the ocean, or be eaten by black clouds, or made into clones. Really, there hadn't been much of note on the whole trip, though that could have just been Sheppard's focused intent at the corridors and doors to not open, as Rodney told it.
But now--well. Frankly, Zelenka thought, it was something of down-time to be wandering the halls of B section, thirty-eighth level, sub-corridor Alpha (actually, all these little windy parts of the city had been named after foliage; but Rodney refused to allow anyone to call them "buttercup" and "lily-of-the-valley" sections, which was as close as they could translate the ancient) with Lorne, who was looking with half-bored interest at the long line of rooms left for the two of them to check.
It had been a practise of the SGC long before Atlantis was established that, if members of the team or base were going off to do things, it would be in pairs: one soldier/offworld warrior refugee/random powers-enabled person and one scientist/anthropologist/translator. The system worked well in Atlantis, where people were usually one or the other, and the senior staff set the example, for better or worse. There was a large portion of the population informed that, should something happen on these routine exploration missions (as it very likely would), they were to evacuate to either their personal quarters or the gate room. Since even the chefs in the commissary were used to alarms blaring at random hours and the need to run and hide was usually paramount, this was treated with nothing more than nodding, a couple eye rolls, and a few pointed whispers about certain people who had a tendency to touch things they shouldn't, genius, mind-melded with Atlantis, or no.
As it was, today was--not a Saturday. The planet's orbit was slightly off from Earth's, just enough to make the years a little longer and the hours in a day a little longer and night a little longer. Sometimes, Radek thought meanly, the Ancients went out of their way to make life just a little bit more difficult. Probably in compensation for having a unifying theory of everything and streamlining even the art on the walls.
He also wondered why they never got around to naming the planet, when they'd all (half-seriously) started calling themselves Lanteans. Was the city Atlantis? The planet? That should be fixed, he thought as he scanned yet another door in the sunflower corridor.
"So what's up with this one?" Lorne asked, swinging his P-90 around in a move that reminded Radek of his nephews when they wanted to play outside and had to stay inside instead.
"Well, Major, I believe this room is more or less the same as every other room in this corridor we have looked at," Radek said, blowing the hair out of his eyes.
"You mean empty with really big windows and lots of empty?" Lorne said with a grin.
"Exactly," said Radek, returning a small smile. "Still, spaces are useful for more labs, more storage." He waved his hand against the door-crystal and walked in. "With new personnel coming from India next month, I am certain--"
"Whoa."
Radek's head shot up; they had all been trained that "whoa" was generally a bad thing. The room was dark, as shadows from the late afternoon played against the floor. The bank of large windows were there, as they had been in the other rooms; but in this one, there was an opposite wall that was entirely reflective. It was easy to see how brilliant this place would be when the light hit it the right way.
"Don't think anything on," Radek said fervently, tapping on his computer. Lorne's eyes immediately laid on his weapon, but they kept creeping up to look at the orange-washed room, the huge, vaulted ceiling, and the smooth floor that, Radek noticed, was just a little springy beneath his feet.
"Well, I do not see anything blowing up at this moment," Radek conceded finally.
"What do you think this place is?" said Lorne, showing interest for the first time on this entire mission. Of course, Radek too was tempted to leak his brain from his ears after checking twenty-five boring and uneventful rooms with a thoroughness that really wasn't necessary. Perhaps that was why the Atlanteans courted disaster so often, thought Radek. Everyone actually wanted it.
"I do not know," Radek admitted. "It seems too...nice, for storage. And it is very big."
Lorne nodded in agreement. Then, as Radek watched through widening eyes, he tilted his head just a little bit and Radek could see the "on!" flashing in his eyes.
Music came pouring in from nowhere, filling the room with a lively, tinkling sound.
"What did I say about thinking ON!" Radek yelled, doing an excellent Rodeny imitation and nearly planting his nose against his computer.
Lorne looked mildly freaked out. "Sorry! I'm sorry! But it's just music!"
"Oh, yes, it's just music until the werewolves start eating you or your brain is reduced to pudding or you become paralyzed," Radek muttered furiously.
Lorne's eyebrows conveyed his alarm, but Radek was too busy reviewing the new sensory input to acknowledge it. The floor had started to move, or at least flow. It was changing colors and patterns beneath their feet, though they themselves weren't moving. Gratefully.
"Okay," Radek finally breathed out. "I think we are okay. Despite the fact that you turned this room on, it is not very serious problem. Is dancing room."
"Dancing room?" Lorne said incredulously. "The Ancients danced?"
"The Ancients played hopscotch in daisy corridor! I do not know, Major!" Radek said irritably. "However. We can mark this room for looking at later. Please think off now."
Lorne closed his eyes, and after a second, the room quieted; the floor subsided; and the lights faded to a dusky ochre. "I wonder if they had extreme ballroom?" Lorne wondered out loud.
Radek rolled his eyes.
end