SG1-17 Sunrise (27 page)

“Oh, my God,” Rhionna’s voice was a whisper, but it still managed to reach him.

He turned and shot her a curious look. “
An Dóchas a Mhaireann
? You’ve heard of it?”

“Yes,” she said, that last hope sinking like a stone. “I know it. Speaking that name is forbidden, I’ve never heard it said aloud, but I know it.”

His eyes were sharp, penetrating. “And do you know where it is?”

She managed a nod. “It might as well be at the bottom of the ocean.”

For all
the punishment taken by the
Fánaí na Mara
on the journey back to the Cove, it was the final few moments that proved the most treacherous. In just a few hours, the sea level had risen alarmingly, and when Jack saw the gap between the tops of the furious waves and the archway to the Cove’s dilapidated buildings he felt certain there was no way in hell anything would get through.

“We’ll never make it,” he yelled at Faelan over the roar of the storm, and then winced at the God-awful cliché.

But Faelan only grinned, wild and reckless, and spun the ship’s wheel with expert hands. “Course we’ll make it, Colonel. The
Fánaí
could fit though the eye of a needle if I asked her.”

He’s actually lost it
, thought Jack, trying to quell his panic as the Cove walls raced closer.
He’s actually gone completely crazy.

Then the entire ship was engulfed by shadow. The massive arch loomed overhead, swallowing them like a closing throat. Jack was sure that, if he reached up, he could scrape his fingers along the underside. Shutting his eyes, he waited for the impact and the inevitable screech of metal against metal when the sea crushed them against the towering buildings.

And then all was calm. Calm-
ish
.

Rain still lashed the decks, and the ship still rolled in a way that made him glad he hadn’t eaten supper, but as Faelan and the crew guided the
Fánaí na Mara
in to dock, it looked as though the threat of death was no longer imminent.

With the lines barely secured, the captain was already striding down the gangway, but Jack had no intention of letting him go so easily. He matched his gait, catching up with him on the quay.

“Faelan!”

The man whirled around. “Stop, Colonel! Just stop!”

Jack shook his head, wiping away the rain that stung his eyes. “You don’t understand the mistake you’re making.”

“No, it’s you who doesn’t understand. The
Sciath Dé,
do you know what Ennis Channon and his like call it?” He didn’t wait for a response. “They call it Knowledge, and they sneer when they say the word, as if it’s something filthy, something corrupt. They let their people fill their heads with banalities, and keep them gorged on words without meaning. And do you know why they do that?”

He paused, expecting an answer this time, but Jack said nothing, merely held his gaze. There was no need to reply, because the reason was obvious.

“
Knowledge
, Colonel O’Neill.” His lips drew back, as if in disgust. “Said just like that. They call it sinful, wicked, and damn everyone who pursues it, while they hoard the truth like greedy kings and grow fat on their lies.” He threw his arms up, gesturing to the buildings that swayed dangerously around them. “This is my kingdom, Colonel. And if it falls then I fall with it.”

Faelan turned away, his shoulders dropping, and when he spoke again, the fire was gone. “I’ll send you back in the
Fánaí
with the last of my crew. Good men and women. If anyone can get you home, they will.”

With that he left, his footsteps echoing along the wooden dock. Only then Jack realized someone had been calling his name. He turned to find Daniel running towards him.

“You made it back,” said Daniel, a grin on his face.

“I made it back. Though I can’t say the same for the last three meals I ate. Never let me set foot on a boat again.”

“Ship,” Daniel murmured absently, looking over Jack’s shoulder. “Was that Faelan?”

“Yeah. He’s in a mood.”

“A mood?” Daniel’s eyebrow quirked, and his tone was deadpan.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jack brushed past him, stalking toward the
Fánaí na Mara,
which was already being prepared for the voyage back to the Ark. “Get your stuff. We gotta get out of here.”

“Uh, yeah I know.”

“And I don’t want to hear about how you haven’t found the shield yet–”

“I have found the shield.”

“Or how if you just had a bit more time–”

“I don’t need any more time.”

“Because this whole place is about to come crumbling down around our ears.”

“Jack, we have to get back to the Ark.”

“So we have to get back to the Ark. Wait. What?”

“I found
Sciath Dé.
It’s back at the Ark. We have to get there, and quickly.”

“Daniel, are you telling me this entire jaunt was completely pointless? That the shield was back at the Ark the whole time?”

Daniel cleared his throat. “Well, if by pointless you mean accomplishing nothing, then no, because I would never have discovered some key information if it hadn’t been for the records here. Not to mention the whole saving me from the Seachráni part. In fact, what I did discover here was that the shield is in, uh, the place where we thought it would be right at the start.”

Jack took a breath. “This better be good, Daniel.”

“Oh, it is.”

A shout came from the deck. Twenty minutes until they sailed.

Jack grinned. “Clock’s tickin’, Daniel.”

* * *

When the line went dead, Sam sat back on her heels and stared at the handset. Sorcha shifted, got to her feet and moved toward the bookshelves that lined the walls.

“
An Dóchas a Mhaireann
,” she muttered. “I’ve never heard the Ark called such a name. Never seen those words written.”

Sam rubbed a hand through sweat-tangled hair. Going by the
rising heat, the sun had to be up by now, beating down on the dirt roof of the cellar and baking them like a pair of chickens in a clay oven. Shooing away her nascent claustrophobia, she said, “Daniel’s rarely wrong about these things, and Rhionna confirmed the name;
Sciath Dé
is in the Ark, Sorcha.”

The old woman shook her head and for the first time since they’d met, Sam thought she looked beaten. “Impossible. The Elect believe the existence of
Sciath Dé
to be an affront to the will of their god—by its very nature it seeks to diminish His power, to shield all the world from His wrath instead of only them, the chosen few. Do you think the Elect would ever have permitted it to enter their precious Ark?”

“Well apparently they did, once,” Sam said. “People change, Sorcha. Lines harden over time. Maybe things were different then? Less black and white.”

Sorcha snorted, dismissive and defeated. “If it is in the Ark, then I tell you it is guarded by the Elect. They would not risk its discovery.”

“I’m not so sure.” Sam rose, stretching out stiff legs. “I don’t think Ennis knew where it was—I don’t think he knows much about it at all.”

“Ennis Channon is not the sum of the Elect,” Sorcha said. “He is simply their tool.”

Sam shrugged. “So you just want to give up? Daniel and the Colonel are bringing the patch back here, running ahead of that storm, and you just want to give up on the bucket?”

“No! Do not seek to school me in patience, Samantha Carter. This is the work of my life we are discussing. But this is my world, and I understand how it works. If
Sciath Dé
is in the Ark, then mark me—it is under the protection of the Elect. That is how such things work.”

“You’re assuming they know what it is,” Sam countered. She shook her head, pacing as her mind began to connect the dots. “No. You said it yourself, Sorcha—they hate knowledge, they’ve done everything they can to destroy it. They killed the scientists at the outpost, just to destroy what they knew!”

“Then they have already destroyed the shield!” Sorcha snapped. “For it is either hidden or destroyed, and either way it is unreachable to us.”

With another shake of the head, Sam began to climb the ladder. “I think you’re wrong. Either way I
am
going back to the Ark. Stay here if you want, but Teal’c and I are leaving.”

Sorcha remained quiet until Sam had reached the top and was pushing at the trapdoor. “Take care,” she said, looking up. “It is past sunrise.”

Wedging her hat onto her head and fishing out her sunglasses, Sam gave it one last try. “Come with us. What do you have to lose?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed in her lined face. “Hope,” she replied. “Which is all I’ve ever had.”

Sam studied her in the flickering lamplight. Spare and worn—maybe ten years her senior, but looking a generation older. This was the end, Sam realized, of a lifetime’s work, and if it ended in disaster, if the shield had been destroyed… Maybe, in Sorcha’s position, she too would want to stay buried in this little hole in the ground, covering her eyes as the last hope for her people sank. Maybe. But that didn’t mean it was right. “You can’t give up now,” she said at last. “Whatever’s happened to the shield, Sorcha, you have to see this through to the end. You have to discover the truth.”

Sorcha stayed still for a long moment, then, with a curt nod, her decision was made. “Very well.”

Bracing herself for the heat and the glare, Sam put her shoulder against the trapdoor. It was heavy and took some effort to lift. When it eventually cracked open she got a face-full of mud instead of dust. “What the—?”

Something powerful tore the hatch from her grip, whipped it back on its hinge and slammed it into the dirt. Debris hurtled past as Sam clambered out of the cellar, yelling down for Sorcha to stay put. Everywhere she looked she saw devastation.

The storm had hit hard and was laying waste to the flotsam city of the Badlands; the makeshift shelters were strewn like garbage in the wind, and the dock was being thrashed to splinters by the raging sea.

No more than ten feet away, Teal’c lay face down in the mud, a gash across the back of his head, rain washing his blood into the dirt.

* * *

“It was the translation,” said Daniel, as he and Jack made their way down into Faelan’s cabin and the few remaining crew members readied the ship for what might be its last voyage.

“The final hope, or rather, the
lasting
hope… logic would dictate that it’s a short leap from that to
last
hope—phonetically speaking—and so when I heard what they called this place, I thought it must be here. But it turns out that it’s not just a linguistic quirk. It was Rhionna who pointed it out.”

“Daniel, is this going to be one of those times when I wave my hands in the air and make loud noises just so you’ll stop talking?”

Daniel frowned. “Possibly.”

“Okay, and you say Rhionna knows what the hell you’re talking about?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then why don’t we let her tell it to keep my brain from exploding?”

Daniel shrugged. “You can try, but I’m not sure she’s coming.”

“God, what is it with Romeo and Juliet?”

“What?”

Jack shook his head. “Never mind, let’s just—”

Suddenly the noise of the rain grew louder, and Daniel turned to find Rhionna standing in the open doorway.

“You’ve decided to come back with us?” he asked carefully.

She smiled, a tight expression. “I’ve decided there’s a little more fight left in me.” Then she looked around the cabin. “Where’s Faelan?”

“I hope you haven’t forgotten anything, Daniel,” said Jack ignoring her. “It’s time to go.” His frown at the mention of the Seachráni’s name was impossible to miss.

“Where is Faelan?” repeated Rhionna, louder this time, a note of desperation in her voice. “We can’t leave without him.”

Jack rounded on her. “I don’t know where the hell Faelan is. Probably at the top of that tower waiting for it to drop out from under him.”

“What?” The word was a frayed at the end, like a broken thread.

Apparently it tweaked whatever sympathy Jack had left in him, because his voice softened when he spoke again. “He’s not coming, Rhionna. I’m sorry. I tried.”

But Jack was talking to a slamming door. Rhionna had turned on her heel and fled into the rain.

His long
robes almost tripped him as Ennis scurried after Sister Nevin. He picked them up, hurrying down the Chapel steps.

Outside, the light was murky and Ennis stumbled to a halt in momentary confusion. Far above the dome the sky was boiling black, blotting out the Sun. The portent of such imagery was not lost on Pastor Channon. With a shiver, he hurried after Nevin.