“What is it oh my.” Gabrielle Camargo’s question trailed off into a simple statement of awe as she passed a number of her and Matt’s people and entered a chamber at the heart of the monolith.

A chamber was, however, quickly revealed to be the one and only chamber.

While the walls had been nearly ten metres thick, beyond that, the interior of the monolith had been hollowed out, disappearing into darkness above. The tunnel had exited out into the base of the empty cavity, thirty metres on its sides. Inky black walls seemingly absorbed the light of the torches the Starfleet crews were wielding but sparkled with golden light nonetheless.

But of real note and what caused Gabrielle Camargo to interrupt her own query was what was hovering just off the floor of the interior space. A golden globe hung in the air, a few metres across and just as many off the floor. Its own radiance washed over those present and the walls, picking at minute imperfections in the walls of the monolith and giving the impression of a night.

It was Fen, the native Leytan leader of the Watchers, who broke the creeping silence that was settling over everyone fathered. “Tarok,” he said with a finger raised at one of the points of light. “Mellen. The Thousand Sisters.”

“Tren,” one of the other Watchers muttered. “Kin.”

“It’s the night sky?” Matt asked.

“No,” Fen replied. “It’s the sky without the Great Sun.” He waved at one side of the room. “We can’t see those lesser suns this time of year.”

“So, a planetarium,” Sam said as she stepped up beside Matt and Gabrielle. “And an old one at that.”

“No weirdness?” Gabrielle asked Sam.

“I haven’t had this conversation with you multiple times, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Time travel?” Matt asked.

“Temporal loop,” Same explained off-handedly, like it was something everyone should have experience with. “I’m not just seeing things, but that one over there is red, right?”

Everyone’s eyes shifted to where Sam was pointing — a speck of light on the wall that wasn’t golden, but crimson red. In fact, more than just the one, but a handful of those around it were as well.

“Found another,” someone shouted.

“Over here, too.”

“There’s one.”

It took a minute for all the eyes to survey the room, to spot the red rashes compared to the golden pinpricks. Seven red smears in total across the starscape presented here. No one was familiar enough to even try to hazard a guess. There were a few mutterings about people who could.

“But the Commodore could tell us,” someone from Atlantis muttered.

“You mean Fightmaster could. We all know who really ran the ship.” That had earned a few chuckles from the Atlanteans present.

“You know we’ve got a demigod on Republic that could probably tell us,” someone from Republic said loud enough to get Matt’s attention.

Matt’s finger snap echoed in the chamber, reverberating some as it travelled up the hollow column and back down again. “Beckman! She probably could tell us.”

Gabrielle shook her head with a smile. “Or we take images with our tricorders and relay everything back to the ships when we can and use those wonderful astrometrics labs we have to figure this one out?”

“Or we could do that,” Matt said with a smile. “Besides, I’ve misplaced my demigod. Don’t suppose you have one?”

“We have a rock monster and a doctor whose guilty pleasure is poetry night,” Gabs answered. “And three lovely ladies with experience in temporal loops.”

“They don’t like being called that,” Sam said while giving Gabrielle a filthy look.

“Sorry, silicate-based monster.” Gabrielle conceded, one of Atlantis’ internal jokes once more going over Matt’s head.

Just then, the globe in the middle of the room shifted hues, the golden light swirling, shifting darker and darker, more orange than yellow. Eyes once more shifted to it before a thud was heard and a clear impression of a skeletal face smeared itself from inside the sphere against its outer wall.

Everyone stepped back just in time for another slam, another appearance of the face, and the hue to shift to the same dark red as the seven smears on the monolith walls. But despite the globe’s colour shifting, the myriad of other pinpricks remained golden, steady and pure despite the central light shifting.

“We need to leave,” Fen said in a hushed tone, as if trying not to draw attention to himself.

“You know, I think I agree with you,” Gabrielle said. “Small problem with the storm outside.”

Another slamming sound, another face. Then more and more in rapid succession. It wasn’t just one face, but a multitude of them now, testing the sphere’s resilience. And with it came mocking laughter as well. Subtle at first against the thuds, but growing.

And in the distance, the whip-like cracks of lightning made themselves known down the tunnel that led outside, striking near the tunnel entrance at even the mention of leaving.

The silence that followed the rapid lightning strike was even more ominous.

“You shall be the heralds of our return,” a booming voice announced, the sound so deep and loud everyone could feel it in their chests. “The bearers of our great gifts. The first of our new worshippers! Our vessels into the new and final night!”

“Terrors,” Fen hissed. “We’re better risking the storm than staying.”

Gabrielle didn’t need to be told twice. Or think on it anymore. She looked to Matt and nodded once, waiting for a brief nod from him in response. “Everyone out!” she shouted, then turned to face the sphere, waiting for everyone to leave first.

The mocking laughter returned, as more whip-cracks echoed down the tunnel.

“You will be the bearers of our return!”

And then silence.

Not a slow, creeping menace like earlier, but hard and fast. The laughing stopped, the lightning immediately outside with it. And then a roar of anger that caused everyone to start running. Even Gabrielle, Matt and Sam all took a few steps back straight away.

And then another sound started to filter down the tunnel, over the crowd of people running from the threatening commands towards the at-whim lightning strikes.

Rhythmic, staccato strums rolled down the corridor from somewhere far, far away, fighting with the sound of thunder just as far. Both sounds were growing in volume, the source of one obviously closing, the lightning strikes a response from whatever was imprisoned in the globe, striking out with whatever minute power it could.

“Is that…guitar music?” Gabrielle asked.

“Electric guitar,” Matt answered. “Bass as well, I think?”

“Atlantis?” Sam asked, an eyebrow raised. “No way. The captain wouldn’t do something like that.”

Gabrielle didn’t even need a moment to put the pieces of this puzzle together. Captain Kennedy wouldn’t do something like that. He knew of Atlantis’ musical past and had already told her it would be something he’d leave solely to Commodore Theodoras’ era of command. But there was one captain who might just consider something a bit non-standard if he was trying to get a message across and comms were down.

And just happened to know someone on the ground who would get it.

“Republic.” She turned to the tunnel, and the crowd of people stopped but decidedly away from the voice promising them doom. “Everyone outside, right now!” She shouted the order as she started after everyone herself, Matt and Sam in tow.

And it was just then that words washed down the tunnel, muffled some by the mass of people blocking it and the thunder cracking overhead, but most importantly, not directly at the tunnel mouth once more.

“Rising up, back on the street…”