SG1-17 Sunrise (5 page)

“About the shield?”

“About the shield, and about those damn bodies we found in that grave.”

“Daniel Jackson,” said Teal’c, “did you not estimate that the bodies are most likely over a century old?”

“At least that,” Daniel agreed. “Jack, you can’t believe that these people had anything to do with what we found on
Acarsaid Dorch
.”

“You’re damned right I believe it.”

“Then we must confront them,” Teal’c said. “This time we must discover the truth before we become entangled with these people.”

For a second, just a second, the colonel hesitated, his eyes flicking down. And in that moment Sam saw another man, one who didn’t exist anymore, one who had never really existed in the first place. A man who tried not to rock the boat, who accepted, who didn’t question or push or challenge.

Not real. He was never real.

Then he squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, gave a slight shake of his head. “Oh we’ll discover the truth alright, Teal’c.”

Sam didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed. “So where exactly is it we’re going, sir?” she said as they were led through a vast courtyard towards gates that were slowly swinging inward.

“Get your Sunday best on, Carter, we’re going to church.”

* * *

From the outside, the chapel was instantly recognizable as a place of worship, not least because of the streams of sober, well-dressed people pouring through its doors. The architecture, with its reaching spires and pointed arches, reminded Sam of old gothic cathedrals like Reims or Canterbury, but like all the other buildings they had passed on the way here it was devoid of any ornamentation; its five porticos and twin spires were clean and simple. As her gaze traveled up to study the spires, a flash of reflected light high up caught her attention. Squinting against the sunlight, she could make out a honeycomb of faint lines crisscrossing the entire sky.

“We’re in some kind of dome,” she said, aloud, as realization struck. A vast one, its structure almost fading into opalescent blue. It solved a riddle she’d been puzzling over since they had emerged from the Elect chambers and seen the sun blazing in a cloudless sky: how could the temperature remain so pleasant? “It must cover the whole city.”

“The whole city, huh?” The colonel sent her a look; she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Kind of like a shield…?”

Sam shook her head. If this was
Sciath Dé
, why would the Elect have been evasive about something that was in plain sight? “This looks more like a biosphere, sir. I don’t think it has any military applications.”

“You are correct, Major Carter.” She jumped at the voice, and turned to find Tynan Camus at her elbow. The colonel clearly disliked him, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. The guy was altogether too smooth.

“What’s its purpose?” she asked. “The dome, I mean.”

He gestured around him with a sweep of his arm. “Do you not protect yourselves from the elements? The purpose of the Ark is that we might enjoy the beauty of the Lord’s bounty.”

“An umbrella?” the colonel said from behind.

Sam peered up. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a parasol.” Then, to Camus, she said, “The sun’s pretty hot, huh?”

He looked confused. “It is the Sun. Is that not its nature?”

“Well, actually, you’d be surprised by the variation in stellar—” Colonel O’Neill cleared his throat and, with a flash of irritation, Sam broke off. For an instant, it seemed, she was standing before Brenna, being cut dead as she tried to explain her ideas. But she shook it off, not sure if the memory was even real or some lingering impression from the memory stamp, and offered a tight smile to Tynan. “Yeah, suns are generally pretty hot.”

“Inside the Ark,” he said, “we are protected from the heat and the harmful effects of the Sun. It allows our crops to grow, and the beauty you see here to flourish.”

“A climate controlled environment. Impressive.” Tynan inclined his head, though Sam didn’t for a second believe it was through genuine humility. “I’d be interested in finding out more about your technology,” she added.

His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed a fraction. “Come,” he said, neatly sidestepping her enquiry. “The Message is about to start. I am confident you will enjoy today’s chapter.”

They were shown into pews near the front of the packed Chapel. Curious looks were thrown their way, but people smiled and nodded in greeting, and Sam didn’t pick up any threatening vibes. On the contrary, the air thrummed with a sense of anticipation and eventually all eyes turned to the altar—or more specifically the object that was hanging behind the altar. The huge screen looked out of place, incongruous in a house of worship, and it was then that she recalled seeing similar blank screens during their walk through the city, across the sides of buildings, taking the place of billboards. The people of the Ark clearly loved their TV.

“I wanted something similar for my den,” whispered Colonel O’Neill in her ear, “but it wouldn’t fit through my front door.”

Tynan Camus had left them and gone to take up a seat among the rest of the Elect, who were seated to the side of the altar like a group of middle-aged choristers. The steady buzz of excited conversation died down as Pastor Channon stood and walked to the center.

“My people,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Here we gather to celebrate the Message of our Lord. To rejoice in the knowledge that we are saved, that we are one with God, that He has chosen us and blessed us. Here we gather to celebrate a new chapter, the embodiment of His Word. ”

Sam sneaked a look around her at the wide eyes and broad smiles on the faces of every member of the congregation. They were waiting for something, she realized, eager for it to begin.

“And the Lord bestowed His Light on the world,” continued Channon, “that his children might see the glory that is the coming dawn. And they shall rejoice… in the Sunrise.”

On Channon’s last word, the lights dimmed and the screen sparked into life, while music poured from speakers positioned at the four corners of the church. A hush descended on the congregation as every person drank in the images that scrolled across the screen, images of smiling faces with perfect smiles and incongruously perfect hair. The music drew to a close over a credit that proclaimed the title of what they were about to watch—
Sunrise
. The title faded and as she watched the events unfolding on the screen before her, a deep feeling of unease settled over Sam. Surely this Message, that the people of the Ark had gathered to celebrate with such fervor, couldn’t be –

“A soap opera?” The colonel’s disbelief matched her own. “That’s what we’re here to watch? That’s what they think we want to see? Days of Our goddamned Lives?”

Daniel leaned in. “It does seem to have a religious theme.” He was fidgeting, searching his pockets for something. “Maybe this is how they interpret their scriptures. Using the performing arts as a medium to express religious texts is not unheard of in— Damn it, they still have my camera.”

“Daniel, it’s daytime TV.”

“Yes, but a fascinating manifestation of religious observance, don’t you think?” He sighed, irritated. “Sam, can I borrow your camcorder? I have to get this.”

“It’s not what we came here for, Daniel,” the colonel growled. “This is a waste of time.”

Sam agreed wholeheartedly, but leaving was impossible without creating a disturbance in a crowd who obviously took
Sunrise
very seriously indeed. So she handed Daniel her camera and together they sat through what felt like hours of the sort of overwrought melodrama that normally had her reaching for the remote. The show was filled with trite moralizing, references to the punishment of sinners, and smug posturing that the people of the Ark were amongst God’s chosen people. And the congregation were hooked. Worryingly, though, there were times when Sam felt herself being drawn in too, swept along by an asinine story that didn’t require thought. It was almost hypnotic.

The final scene ended on a cliff-hanger and Sam had to shake off a creeping curiosity about what happened next. It was insidious, this
Sunrise
, she thought. As the end credits rolled, accompanied by the same nondescript melody that had played at the start, the crowd broke into excited chatter and filtered from their pews towards the doors.

Ennis Channon and Tynan Camus approached the team.

“And what did you make of
Sunrise
, my friends?” asked Ennis, his smile broad.

The colonel opened his mouth to reply but, perhaps prudently, Daniel spoke first. “It certainly taught us a lot about your people, Pastor Channon.”

“It is a wondrous thing, is it not? And we have Brother Camus to thank for that. He oversees the production of each new chapter.”

“Wow, I’ve never met a TV producer before,” said the colonel.

Camus bowed his head once more in that pseudo-humble gesture. “I am merely God’s tool in this realm.”

“Yeah,” said the colonel, “
tool
is certainly the word that springs to mind.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “I have to say, though, we’re still curious.”

“You wish to learn more of the Ark, Dr. Jackson?” asked Tynan.

Ennis glanced nervously between the two men. “There is very little else to learn–”

Tynan raised his hand, cutting Ennis off. “No, Pastor. I wouldn’t want our guests to leave thinking that we have not done our utmost to satisfy their… curiosity. Why don’t you take them to the library?”

“The library?” Ennis looked doubtful.

“Yes!” cried Daniel, obviously sniffing a breakthrough. “I’d love to see your library.”

“Perhaps then you will see that your pursuit of fables is futile,” Camus smiled. “And while you are there, Colonel O’Neill, might I request the pleasure of Major Carter’s company? She expressed an interest in our dome and I’d be happy to discuss the subject with her.”

Sam fought to keep her expression neutral, trying to figure out Camus’s game. Had she asked too many questions? Was there something in the library he didn’t want her to see? Or was she collateral to ensure the colonel didn’t cause any trouble? Whatever the reason there was no mistaking the tension now humming between their little group.

Colonel O’Neill’s gaze flicked from Sam to Tynan to the armed guards positioned discreetly by the wall. When it caught hers once more, she gave an almost imperceptible nod; she’d be fine.

“Teal’c, with Carter,” he said. “We won’t be long.” But as he and Daniel followed Ennis from the church, Sam couldn’t help but remember the last time SG-1 had split up on an off-world mission. And how, when they met again, they’d been different people entirely.

* * *

The more Jack saw of the city, the creepier it got. Not in a Halloween Special kinda way—there were no monsters in the shadows or gothic towers swathed in London fog—but there was definitely something creepy in the empty plazas and the echo of his footsteps bouncing from tall, silent buildings.

“Is it me,” he said to Daniel, “or is this all a bit
Twilight Zone
?”

Daniel was squinting up at the bright sky. “It’s not you,” he said. Then, to Ennis, “There are no birds.”

The Pastor was walking ahead of them, apparently pissed at being taken away from his bizarro soap-opera worshipping. But when Daniel spoke, he turned to glance over his shoulder and said, “No what?”

“Birds?” Daniel mimed a shadow-puppet bird with his hands. “You know, animals that fly?”

Ennis shook his head and kept on walking. “I know of no such thing.”

Daniel lifted his eyebrows and glanced at Jack.

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

Away from the Chapel—or whatever it was Ennis had called it—the streets were empty. But on the walls of the buildings, and occasionally erected on large pylons in the deserted plazas, there were large television screens. And they were all on, showing more of the same crap they’d been forced to watch in the church.

“This has to be the first culture we’ve ever met that worships a daytime soap,” Jack said, glancing up at one of the huge screens as they walked past.

Daniel gave a sarcastic bark of laughter. “Really? Not including our own culture you mean?”

“Funny.”

“Anyway, you’re missing the point.
Sunrise
is just the vehicle for the Message, it’s not worshipped in and of itself. It’s a tool.”

“Yeah, a propaganda tool.”

“Or a proselytizing tool; it’s just a matter of perspective.”

“
It’s my honor to serve
,” Jack said and cut Daniel a flat look. “Call me cynical, but I don’t like being told what to think by the folks in charge.”

Ahead of them Ennis lifted his arm and pointed. “The library is in there.”

At first Jack thought he was gesturing toward the gleaming white building right in front of them, but when Ennis walked past its broad-stepped entrance he realized that the Pastor meant another, shabbier building skulking in its shadow. Unlike the rest of the city the library was gray and blocky, narrowing from a broad base to a spindly tower that reached toward the sky. The lower levels were windowless and the casements further up were thin, suspicious slits that squinted like narrowed eyes. It was decidedly unwelcoming.