I apologise for how long this is taking me to write. Thank you for the feedback, it does help keep me going :o)
Chapter 2
Rodney stared at the image of the man before him, "Let me get this straight," he said in disbelief, "You've transported me to...wherever this is because you you want me to undergo trial by...music?"
The hologram inclined its head. "You will touch Harmony," it stated with a reverential gesture towards the Ancient device bore a remarkable similarity to a piano with faintly glowing crystal keys, except there was a low thrum of power emanating from it. "You will play and your music will reveal your soul's song. To lie will create discord, which cannot be concealed. If you are worthy, you are welcome here."
"And if my soul doesn't sing? What if it's flat or has laryngitis?"
"The holy ground will be cleansed of your presence."
"OK...that, that doesn't sound good. Why me? Or are you asking all of us to perform?"
"You lead. The others with you look to you for answers. We do the same."
"I don't..." He broke off, a sudden memory of Sheppard mangling a song on his guitar forcing him to silence his protest, asking instead, "But they're unharmed, right? You haven't hurt them?"
"They will be well but may not leave until the trial is over."
"And if I refuse to play...?"
"Refusal is not acceptable."
"So what you're telling me is that our lives depend on my ability to 'reveal my soul' by playing the piano – harmony? An instrument that I haven't touched in over 25 years and even then my piano teacher told me that my playing was too 'clinical' for me to ever be any good.
"That is correct."
"We are so screwed." Rodney muttered.
...
Rodney ignored the silent hologram as he examined every aspect of the room. He moved slowly around the walls before checking the floor and then, finally, dragging the bench around so he could stand on it in order to reach the ceiling. Eventually, he had to concede that the room was empty except for the bench and the piano-like instrument the hologram had called 'Harmony'. He had avoided touching it for as long as possible but he was finally forced to admit defeat and, with great reluctance, turned his attention to studying it. There were no access points or interfaces visible anywhere in the room or in the instrument and without any of his equipment he was unable to search for hidden panels or, indeed, open them should he discover them. Nor did he believe that whoever was behind this would react well if he attempted to dismantle their sacred instrument.
"If I play..." he said slowly, "will you let the others go?"
"That depends on you."
"Great. No pressure then(!)" He muttered sarcastically.
His hands moved slowly, reluctantly, over the instrument, hovering for a moment before coming to rest on the crystal keys, which flared momentarily brighter at his touch. The resulting, slightly discordant, sound was not exactly like that of a piano but he easily recognised the notes from his long-ago lessons. As though in a dream, his hands ran through the long neglected motions of playing scales, learning the configuration of the unfamiliar keyboard as he did so.
Something tightened in his chest as he played. A pain from so long ago that he had almost managed to convince himself that it didn't matter. But it did, and at that moment, he could not deny how much he had missed this. As much as he loved his job, as absorbing and enthralling as science is to him, the loss of his music had been a bitter blow. Without thought, he segued into the last piece that he had ever played for his piano teacher - the piece that had been dismissed as 'clinical'. Playing by ear, without a thought for the correct notes, the sounds of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' filled the room.
As the last note shimmered in the air, the hologram nodded once and disappeared, leaving Rodney alone with his thoughts and his music. The forced performance he had given had breached the wall he had kept his music barricaded behind for so long and he was powerless to resist the urge to continue. After several long minutes of silence, the symphony of Atlantis flowed unbidden from his fingers.
The music told the story of the expedition: of the anticipation and anxiety of leaving Earth behind, of the majestic city awakening from its long slumber, faltering at first and then surging back into the sunlight. He played of excitement and awe, discovery and loss, new friends and terrifying foes, hope and fear, life and death and, beneath it all, the dark, threatening presence of the Wraith. All the events and emotions of the key moments of the Atlantis expedition as seen through his eyes.
He had no idea how long he played but, eventually, exhaustion took hold. The movement of his fingers slowed and then stopped and his head drooped towards his chest. He was barely aware of it when the white light engulfed him once more.
TBC...
