SG1-17 Sunrise (4 page)

“Sir?” Carter’s warning came from behind him and, when he looked, she was gesturing with her weapon toward a line of soldiers filtering through the shadows of a cloister to the left of the Stargate. Reinforcements.

He didn’t move, but he did let his hands come to rest on his P90. The DHD was behind the line of soldiers, trailing with some kind of flowering creeper that covered the dial; it probably hadn’t been used in decades.

“We can have nothing you need,” the man—Ennis—said. “We have nothing to spare for trade.”

“Actually,” Daniel said, “what we’re interested in is information. We’re looking for something called God’s Shield—
Sciath Dé
?”

Ennis Channon’s face hardened, his lips compressing into a tight line. “I know nothing of any such thing.”

“We found a reference to it at
Acarsaid Dorch
,” Daniel persisted. “I think it’s meant to be located somewhere called the place of last hope…?”

“I know nothing of such things,” Ennis repeated, but he looked distinctly nervous. Behind him, the reinforcements spilled out through the pillars and lined up. There was no talking in the ranks, but Jack could see the looks that darted between them. “I think it would be best,” Ennis continued, “if you present yourselves to the Elect. They can—”

“Father!” The strident voice bounced off the courtyard walls, cutting through the silence in the same way the figure of a slender young woman cut through the ranks of drab soldiers. Dark, unkempt curls fell across eyes that were spitting fire. “You said you would meet—”

“Rhionna, you are not permitted here! Get back to the house.”

“I will not. You said you’d meet to—” And then she noticed Jack, her eyes widening as she took in the whole of SG-1 and the soldiers fanned out around them. “What is this?”

Ennis’s face grew dark. “They are travelers—they have come through the Sungate.”

“Through the Sungate?”

Unlike Ennis, she was scruffily dressed in bright, mismatched clothes and looked like a woman who meant business. Jack decided he liked her. “Hey,” he said, raising his hand in greeting. “How’s it going?”

She frowned. “How is what going?”

“Life.” He smiled. “I’m Jack O’Neill.”

“Rhionna Channon.” Her curious gaze slid past him, across the rest of the team, and to the gate. “You really came through the Sungate?”

“Yep. Cool, huh?” At his side, Carter cleared her throat and when he looked round, she was staring at him with thinly disguised exasperation. “What?”

“Have you come from
Acarsaid Dorch
?” Rhionna said, doubt and hope painted in clear strokes across her face.

“No,” Jack said. “But we’ve been there.”

“We’re looking for information about something called
Sciath Dé
,” Daniel chipped in. “Or, maybe, God’s Shield?”

Her eyes widened, her whole body seemed to jolt with surprise. Ennis put his hand on her arm. “I told you,” he said before she could answer, “there is no such thing here.” He turned her to face him. “Rhionna—you understand that you cannot speak of this to anyone. It is your duty.”

She looked at him, mutiny in her eyes, but all she said was, “Yes, Father.” There was a brief pause, then, “But there are other things we must speak of.”

“Now is hardly the time.”

“Then when?”

Ennis cast a quick glance toward Jack, then back to his daughter. “Later. After the chapter, perhaps?”

“I’m not going to the—” Her expression altered, like a fish changing direction mid-flow. “Very well then, after the chapter.” She cast a final, speculative look at Jack and then turned on her heel and marched off.

As she did so, one of the newly arrived soldiers stepped forward and spoke in Ennis’s ear. He nodded and said, “You are invited to attend the Elect; the council will be able to answer any more questions you have.”

“Invited,” Jack said, casting an eye over the nervous, armed men. “Guess that’s an invitation we just can’t refuse.”

With a glance back at his team, he headed down the stone steps and led them into the cloistered shadows. In the back of his mind, Jonah counseled caution; Jack ignored him.

* * *

As they were led into the building, Daniel gazed around, trying to find clues to the origin of this people in the architecture, but the sleek, unembellished lines of the walls and archways gave away nothing. Apparently this was a culture who favored simplicity over ornamentation. It was pleasant, he supposed, if a little bland.

“Nice place,” murmured Jack. “But something tells me no snakehead was responsible for the decor.”

His words echoed Daniel’s own conclusions, but when they were brought before a set of broad double doors, he began to reconsider.

By his side, Jack tensed. “You see what I’m seeing?”

Daniel most certainly did. The handles of the door were wrought in gold, huge and ostentatious, at odds with the otherwise unadorned surroundings. And when fully closed, as they were now, the emblem they depicted was a stylized sun, its rays spearing out towards the edges of the doors.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean what we think it means,” said Daniel.

“Oh no? Well, there’s one way to clear matters up.” Jack turned to their escort. “Hey, Ennis,” he called, waving his hand at the doors, “this is… interesting. What is it?”

Ennis frowned. “It is the Sun, of course. The embodiment of our Lord God whose light sustains us.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “And your Lord God’s name would be?”

Ennis gave an uncertain smile as if confused by Jack’s questioning. “The Lord God needs no name, Colonel O’Neill.” Apparently satisfied that he had answered sufficiently, he turned to push open the doors.

“So, a sun god, huh?” muttered Jack to Daniel, as they followed Ennis along a dim corridor. “Now, let me think. Do we happen to know any of those?”

“It doesn’t make sense though,” replied Daniel, keeping his voice low in turn. “I mean, anthropologically speaking, it’s unlikely that Ra had any involvement with these people. The timeline is off by about two thousand years. Besides, if it
was
Ra, then we’d be seeing far more evidence of his presence. And he definitely wouldn’t have kept his name secret.”

“Yeah, understatement was never his style,” conceded Jack. “So what are we looking at here, if not Ra?”

Daniel shrugged. “Their language has roots in Gaelic. Irish, I think. So maybe some Celtic sun deity? The important thing is though, that if it was a Goa’uld, then it doesn’t look like he’s been around in a long time.”

Jack nodded. “All the same, eyes and ears open. I’m not taking anything for granted. Not this time.”

Those last words were telling, Daniel knew, but he had no time to ponder them further. They’d reached the end of the corridor, and another set of doors bearing the golden sun emblem towered above them.

“The Elect await you,” said Ennis, as the doors swung inward.

Slicker than Exxon Valdez was Jack’s initial reaction when Brother Tynan Camus of the Ierna Elect introduced himself. The man was younger than he’d expected, perhaps mid-thirties, with a politician’s smirk and a look in his eye that was altogether too self-satisfied. His body language was open, welcoming, and Jack guessed it was an image that probably won him a lot of fans among people easily fooled by charm and good looks. But Jack had had too many dealings with men like Camus, both on- and off-world; men who thought they had whole planets in their pocket. You didn’t leave your back open to guys like that, you didn’t trust them an inch.

For a moment he saw Administrator Caulder’s smiling face, just as plausible as this guy’s, just as smooth. He’d known better than to trust that guy too, and yet…

He was glad he’d left Carter and Teal’c outside the door, because there was always the possibility that he and Daniel might not come out again.

The council members, including Channon, sat at a crescent table, Camus lounging at one end. Not the seat of a leader, perhaps, but careful observation told Jack the man wielded more power than any of the others would care to admit.

Though the plain robes of the council members were muted in the somber gray light of the room, the councilors’ expressions were more than a little pompous. Jack wondered if such officious posturing was for SG-1’s benefit.

“Welcome to Ierna, Colonel O’Neill,” said Camus. “I do not need to tell you how your arrival has astonished us.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “We should have called ahead. Sorry about that.”

“And you say you did not come from
Acarsaid Dorch
?”

“No, we didn’t. But we’ve been there.” Jack watched closely to see if Camus’s reaction to that news would mirror Channon’s. The guy barely blinked.

“A hostile environment. Or so we are told.”

“Hostile like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Jack…” Daniel cautioned, and Jack knew he was right. Antagonizing the folk in charge would get them nowhere, but something about Camus’s expression really made him want to rattle the guy’s cage.

“We must take your word for it, Colonel,” Camus said. “The people of the Ark have not used the Sungate in many generations. Indeed, only the Elect are aware of its function.”

“And what else might you be aware of?”

Camus arched an eyebrow, a study in nonchalance, but Jack didn’t miss how his jaw tightened. One cage, rattled—check!

Daniel stepped forward and Jack knew what was coming. Daniel the Diplomat, Daniel the Mediator, smoothing whatever feathers Jack might have ruffled. It was his default setting, Jack knew, and it made him wonder all the more about Karlan; he was still carrying bruises from their fight.

Question was, had Karlan been a product of the memory stamp or was he a persona buried deep within the psyche of the man he thought he knew? And what did that say about their relationship? What did it say about Jonah? That question led to answers he couldn’t begin to deal with, and to rooms that were best left locked.

“Ah…Jack?” Daniel was watching him with a curious expression and Jack nodded for him to carry on, irritated at his tangential thoughts. It wasn’t like him to lose focus, not on a mission. Troubled, he listened as Daniel carried on talking. “We really want to ask about one subject in particular, Brother Camus,” he said. “We found some writings–”

“The
Sciath Dé
.” Camus’s tone was flat, almost bored, but Jack didn’t miss the ripple of unease that passed through the rest of the council, a lot of frowning and studying of clasped hands. “Yes, I was informed of your interest in that story.”

“Story?” asked Daniel, his eyebrows raised.

Camus smiled and spread his hands, a gesture that raised Jack’s hackles, but he kept silent, letting Daniel do his thing. “A myth from the Time Before,” said Camus. “Any child from the Ark could tell you the tale, Dr. Jackson.”

“Um, with all due respect, Brother Camus, we’re not really interested in children’s stories.” From his pocket he retrieved his camera and set it on the table before the Elect; they regarded it like a mongoose eyeing a cobra. “See for yourselves,” Daniel said. “We found records on
Acarsaid Dorch
that said this shield technology is real, that it exists. As representatives of our planet, we’re willing to negotiate terms that would allow us access to that technology.”

“It is Knowledge you seek!” burst out Channon, as if in outrage.

“Well, yeah,” said Daniel with a shrug, clearly as bemused as Jack by the Pastor’s reaction.

“Heresy!
And lo, the Damned shall seek to be as God, desiring wisdom which only He may possess, and they shall shun the Light he hath bestowed on the world
–”

“Pastor.” Camus didn’t raise his voice, but one word was enough to silence Channon mid-sermon. The Pastor reddened and sat back in his seat. “Our visitor’s are clearly unfamiliar with the Message,” said Camus, and Jack decided that there were far too many capital letters floating around in these sentences.

“The Message?”

“The Message by which we live our lives. God’s word on Ierna. We will be happy to share it with you.”

“You’ll tell us what you know?” asked Jack, with no small amount of cynicism.

“We will tell you what you need to know, Colonel O’Neill,” said Camus. He rose, dignified in his flowing robes. “Come, join us in the light and partake of the Message.”

Jack flung a look at Daniel who gave a small shrug. “Sounds like we’re invited to worship with them.”

“And here’s me without a Bible…”

* * *

It was clear from the moment the hall doors reopened that the meeting with the Elect hadn’t gone to plan. The colonel and Daniel were led out by an imposing man in long robes, and from the glower on Colonel O’Neill’s face it was obvious they hadn’t gotten the answers they wanted. O’Neill didn’t slow his pace as he strode past her and Teal’c, merely jerked his head for them to follow.

“They don’t know anything, sir?” Sam ventured, falling in next to him. She kept her voice low, aware of the other robed figures who surrounded them as they made their way through the cloisters.

“Oh, they know something,” the colonel muttered. “They’re just not telling.”