SG1-17 Sunrise (13 page)

Sorcha lifted her face to the ceiling. “Ennis believes the Lord sent his Sun to rid the world of sin.”

“And what do you believe?”

She smoothed her hand over the cover of her book. “I believe…” Her heart thumped loud in her chest; she had never spoken of this to anyone other than the
Seachrání
. Speaking of it now put them at risk, but she had waited so long and perhaps it was these very people for whom she had been waiting. Sorcha met his gaze and in a low voice said, “I believe the shield was constructed at the Cove, and that there you will find the answers we seek.”

“The Cove.”

“You must persuade Faelan to take you there; you and the object you brought from
Acarsaid Dorch
.”

O’Neill rubbed a hand across his chin. “I’m sorry. That’s not why we—”

A loud rat-tat-tat ricocheted through the Badlands, followed by shouting and a terrified scream. O’Neill was on his feet in an instant. “That was gunfire.”

“Soldiers,” Sorcha hissed, lifting the heavy stone beneath her hearth and dropping her book into the space below. “Ennis has sent his men.”

A slick click drew her eyes to O’Neill’s weapon; he held it ready for use. “Stay here,” he said, and ducked out beneath the canvas.

* * *

Chaos descended on them with the thunder of boots and the sharp report of warning fire, turning the chatter of children into screams of terror. Teal’c readied his staff weapon, crouching into a defensive stance. By his side, Major Carter adopted a similar position. The
Seachrání
too were arming themselves, withdrawing mean looking blades from the folds of their ragged garments. Such weapons would be ineffectual, of course, against the automatic weapons of the Elect Guard.

Guns raised, the soldiers came to a halt just yards away, disciplined and determined; warriors then, despite the Ark’s benign façade. For if there had been any doubt that this was the city’s militia, it was dispelled by the man who stalked through their ranks. Tynan Camus stared at them with steely-eyed fury, and in his wake Ennis Channon cowered, milk-faced.

“You would disobey the will of the Elect, Rhionna Channon?”
Tynan’s voice was calm, as it always was, but there was an edge to it that signaled danger.

“You brought an army here just because I disobeyed you?”

“I brought an army here to deal with these… Seawolves.” He spat the last word. “They are a pollution. A danger not only to our way of life, but to these people to whom you so desperately wish to provide salvation.”

“How dare you! How dare you feign sympathy for their plight when you would have them washed into the sea if you could.” Rhionna’s face was rigid with anger, while the
Seachrání,
poised and ready for battle, awaited the command of their leader. Teal’c did not dare to lower his weapon; the air crackled with tension, and he knew blood would be shed unless matters were diffused quickly. As always, Daniel Jackson was the one to take the task of arbitration upon himself.

“There’s no need for violence. The
Seachrání
haven’t come here with hostile intentions, Brother Camus. They only came to warn these people that a storm’s headed this way.” His voice was calm and reassuring, but neither side moved. “In fact, Tynan, your coming here today may prove useful. We need to find a safe place for these people during the storm, and Rhionna tells us that the Ark has plenty of space...”

Tynan let out a bark of laughter. “You expect us to shelter these… sinners? The Ark is a sanctuary for those chosen by God. It is a hallowed place. I would not sully it with the stench of these wretched creatures.”

This provoked a torrent of angry shouts from the
Seachrání
and the crowd who had gathered nearby to watch the drama unfold.

“Please!” called Daniel, raising his hands, palms outward. “Please listen.” He moved towards the nearest member of the
Seachrání
, the bull-faced man Faelan had called Pádraig. His second in command, Teal’c supposed.

“Daniel…” Major Carter’s caution was low but firm, her P90 still held tight to her shoulder.

“It’s ok, Sam.” He turned to the man with a placating gesture. “Lower your weapons and we can discuss this with the Pastor. Ennis — surely you won’t hurt these people.
 
They’ve done no harm and they need your help. After all,” he added, nodding towards Faelan, “this man is already your daughter’s friend.”

Immediately, Teal’c knew it was the wrong thing to say. Tynan Camus’s expression turned to one of cold contempt while Ennis, who had been pensive and wary, suddenly turned thunderous.

“Friend?” he snarled.

“Father, please!”

But Rhionna Channon’s plea went unheard. “This Seawolf scum defiled my daughter! He turned her away from the Light and cast her into shadow. He stole her from me, Dr. Jackson. And he will Burn for it! Seize him!” As soon as the order was given, the soldiers moved. Major Carter cried out a warning, but there were too many of them for one P90 and a staff weapon. The
Seachrání
raised their blades to fight, despite the odds, and Teal’c admired their tenacity. Then Faelan Garret charged with a yell.

From the corner of his eye, Teal’c saw a blur of dark hair as Rhionna Channon ran forward. “Faelan! No!” Then all was motion, all was madness, and with a flash of steel Faelan made his move. “Stop where you are or I’ll cut her damn throat!”

Everything slammed to a halt, teetering on a knife edge.

“You would not,” hissed Ennis, his eyes wide, gaze fixed like everyone else’s on the man who held a blade to his daughter’s jugular. In Faelan’s arms Rhionna Channon moved not a muscle.

“Believe me, Pastor, I would.”

“Faelan, what are you doing?” Rhionna’s voice contained the barest tremor; she was afraid but seeking to conceal it. “This is lunacy.”

“Always had a bit of madness about me, wouldn’t you say?” he muttered in her ear, before turning back to Ennis. “Tell your men to back off, Pastor.”

“You are a fool,” Tynan Camus said, “if you think to threaten us with the life of one woman who has already fallen into darkness.”

Faelan pulled her head backward, exposing more of her throat. “What say you, Pastor? Will you see her die here, now?”

Ennis Channon appeared frozen. But as Tynan opened his mouth to speak once more, the Pastor grabbed his arm and said, “In the name of the Lord, Tynan, she is my daughter.”

“Is she?”

That question remained unanswered, but after a pause Ennis Channon gestured to the soldiers to lower their guns.

“You will answer for this,” Tynan said, icy beneath the beating sun. “You will answer before the Council.”

Ennis did not reply, and Teal’c kept his staff weapon leveled at the soldiers, in case any of them chose to act against the Pastor.

“Now you, Faelan.” Major Carter had her P90 aimed at Faelan. “Lower the knife and let her go. I have a shot, Garret, and I swear I’ll take it.”

But Faelan only grinned, and it was then that Teal’c saw the reason why.

“Uh, Sam…” Stock still and looking more than a little chagrined, Daniel Jackson stood off to one side, the fierce sunlight reflecting like fire upon the blade that Pádraig held to his throat.

* * *

The old woman ignored his order to stay in her shack—no surprise there. Tugging a thin veil across her eyes, she scurried after him as Jack stalked through the rat’s nest of alleyways and toward the sounds of commotion.

He could hear shouting—a man’s voice raised in desperation, his words lost in a thick accent that Jack found difficult to penetrate. He had no difficulty, however, making out Daniel’s placating tones.

“It’s okay, everyone just…calm down.”

Jack slowed at a corner where the wall of a shack—it might once have been the side of a packing crate—stuck out awkwardly into the alley and provided enough cover for him to peer around.

Behind him, Sorcha moved on silent feet; nimble for an old bird. He waved her back and put his finger to his lips. She ignored his order with a toss of her head and crowded close, peering with him around the corner.

Jack muttered a curse. Through the narrow gap between the shacks, he could make out the glitter of the sea, the ragged dock. Standing to one side, half obscured by the makeshift
structures, was Faelan. With one arm, he held Rhionna pinned
against his chest, the free hand pressed a knife to her throat. His second in command stood next to him—and he had Daniel. Opposite stood Sam and Teal’c, weapons raised, and behind them Ennis’s soldiers were arrayed in attack formation. It was simply a question of who killed whom first.

“Crap.”

Sorcha grunted her agreement. “Now,” she said, “things are more complicated.”

“Ya think?” Jack tried to draw a bead, but couldn’t get a clear shot at the guy holding Daniel. Besides, firing first would be like throwing a spark into a tinder box.

“Back off!” Faelan shouted. “Y’hear me? I’ll cut her throat, and don’t think I won’t!”

Jack didn’t miss the tremor in that knife-hand, but wasn’t convinced the man was lying. Faelan looked desperate enough to do anything as he backed toward his boat.

“Listen to him, Father! He means it!” Rhionna’s fingers clutched at her captor’s arm, pulling it back from her throat.

His only choice, Jack decided, was to circle around behind them. He figured he had two, maybe three, minutes before Faelan reached the boat and got away. But it was going to be tight, and there was every chance the whole thing would blow up in his face—with Carter, Daniel, and Teal’c the sitting ducks in the middle. Lowering his gun, Jack pulled back around the corner.

“Don’t follow,” he ordered Sorcha. “I mean it.”

Despite the sun, she lifted the ragged gauze from her face and pinned him with a beady eye. “Once Faelan has gone, he’ll not be back. Not for a long time.”

He drew his Beretta and chambered a round. “Exactly why he’s not gonna be taking Daniel with him.”

The old woman put her hand on the gun. “Do you think you can end this with violence?”

“Can you think of a better way?”

She jerked her head toward the docks. “There are many ships, and you seem like a resourceful man. Travel with the
Seachrání
to the Cove and you will have an opportunity to free your friend without risking the lives of so many.”

“And while we’re at it we can find your shield?”

Her lined face was impassive. “Perhaps fate has conspired to join our interests together, Jack O’Neill.”

“Convenient,” he said with a sigh. “You know, if it wasn’t crazy, I might think you’d planned this all along.”

Sorcha said nothing. She didn’t have to. She knew he had no choice.

* * *

There was a chance, Sam knew, that she could take aim and fire before the man holding Daniel had time to inflict a fatal wound with his knife. There was a chance that Teal’c could dispatch any of the soldiers who might decide to take matters into their own hands. And there was an above-average chance that Faelan was bluffing and that he had no intention of hurting Rhionna. In fact Sam was more certain of that than of anything else.

But Sam Carter didn’t deal in chances. She dealt in fact and hard evidence, and the evidence told her that, with one P90 and a staff weapon against two warring factions, the odds were not in their favor. She didn’t take the shot. Nor did she lower her gun.

“You’re making a mistake, Faelan. Tell your men to stand down and release your hostages.”

“Not a chance.”

Ennis Channon strode forward, jowly face white with fear and rage. “I swear I shall send you to perdition, Garret!”

Faelan barked a hard laugh and looked around him. “Your kind sent us all there long ago, Pastor.” He started moving backwards, dragging Rhionna with him, and Pádraig followed suit, leading Daniel back towards the boats. Their knives sat snug against their hostages’ necks.

Once they were in the boats Sam knew it would be almost impossible to stop them. She sensed the Elect troops grow restless behind her, a tinderbox ready to ignite—with Rhionna, Daniel, and who knew how many innocent people, caught in the conflagration. “Hold your men back, Camus,” she said, without taking her eyes off the retreating
Seachrání
. “We’ll settle this without bullets if we can.”

“Do not presume to give orders to the Elect,” Tynan growled. “Men, open—”

“Unless you wish to feel the burn of a staff blast, Tynan Camus,” said Teal’c in smooth tones, “you should heed Major Carter’s words.”

There was silence, save perhaps the sound of Tynan’s teeth grinding, but none of the soldiers made a move.

Sam took slow steps forward, keeping Pádraig in the gun’s sight, but the
Seachrání
held the advantage and she knew she couldn’t take the shot. If the colonel was anywhere near, perhaps he could—

Movement behind and to the left of the
Seachrání
caught her attention, and she slid a furtive glance in that direction. In the near distance, Colonel O’Neill was in a crouch, trying to keep to the cover of the rocks littering the coastline, making his way towards one of the
Seachrání
longboats. There was a burst of static in her earpiece, and then his low voice. “Stand down, Major. Can’t win this one.” With a lurch she realized what he was doing. He was choosing his battlefield, letting them take Daniel because he’d be right alongside him, ready to make his move and bring him back.