SG1-17 Sunrise (14 page)

Major
Samantha Carter knew he was right, that the risk of collateral damage was much lower this way. But lately the
major
was at odds with that other part of herself, the part that remembered the burnt iron smell of the furnaces and the heat and grime of a subterranean prison. The part of her that was still Thera.

Still, she wasn’t Thera, she was Sam Carter, and Sam Carter followed orders. Grimly, she acknowledged the order with a double tap on her radio and lowered her P90. “Go,” she told Faelan.

“What are you doing?” Ennis cried in impotent rage, his gaze darting between Rhionna and the staff weapon Teal’c pointed at him. “Please, my daughter…”

“Let her go,” Tynan sneered. “It is for the Lord to judge her now.”

“No! Men, stop—”

The hiss of the staff weapon opening cut him off. “I advise silence,” Teal’c said.

“Wise move, Miss,” said Faelan, backing towards the boats. But there was a tremor in his voice, and the hand that held the knife shook. Sam wondered if the situation had spiraled out of his control.

Ignoring him, she looked at Daniel. “I’m sorry. We’ll bring you back.”

Daniel gave a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” he said, as Pádraig pulled him backwards into the boat. “You did the right thing.”

Sam wasn’t so sure, but there was nothing she could do except stand powerless on the dock, watching as her friend was shoved into Faelan’s dory and the motley flotilla sped off toward the larger vessels that squatted in the sunlight far out to sea.

And then, behind her, Tynan ordered, “Seize the strangers.”

White
steps gleamed beneath the noontide glare, and Pastor Ennis Channon climbed them slowly. It was a mark of respect for the Chambers of the Elect, yes, but also a useful moment of self-reflection. Time to compose himself before his audience.

Rhionna was gone, taken by the black-handed villain who had first defiled her. His grief and anger would have been less if he could believe that she had not gone willingly. But he knew his daughter too well; she stood in sin, she had turned from the light of the Sun long ago and rejected the duty for which God had granted her life. Ennis prayed every day for her soul, but he feared that prayer would not be enough. The Elect would demand more.

At the top of the steps, he paused to catch his breath and looked up at the glistening pillars that flanked the entrance to the Chambers. Beyond them hovered darkness, a reminder to those without that the business of the Elect was no business of
theirs
. Pride ran her fingers the length of Ennis’s spine, and he stood straighter in his robes of state; from the first time he had come here, his father’s death still raw in his heart, he had felt that pride like rock beneath his feet.

He, Ennis Channon, was Pastor of the Ark.

He was Elect, and the glory of the Lord was his promise.

Now, he had to do his duty.

Lifting his hood to cover his head, he stepped into the shadows and walked the familiar path, blind until his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Above the circular audience chamber dust danced in ribbons of brightness that filtered through a hundred narrow slits in the vaulted ceiling. In the shadows beneath the Elect sat in session, their faces obscured by cowled robes.

“Well met, Pastor Channon,” said Sister Eilís Nevin, one of the council elders. “Though this day brings us no joy.”

Ennis stopped before the table and bowed his head in polite greeting. “Well met, Sister Nevin. Council.”

Nevin sat at the apex of the crescent table, directly before Ennis. Only her narrow jaw and tight-pressed lips were visible beneath her hood. Her expression was enough to reveal her anger, but her brittle voice left no doubt of her fury.

“You have erred, Pastor,” she said. “The strangers from the Sungate should never have been allowed to leave the Ark.”

Ennis felt a stir of unease. “It was never my intention to—”

“Your intention is irrelevant, only the fact is pertinent. These heretics from the Sungate are dangerous. All the more so as they now are in the hands of the Seawolves.”

“Only one was taken by the wolves,” Ennis reminded her. “Two are in our custody and the fourth—”

“Roams free in the Badlands.” Nevin’s lip curled in disgust. “What heresy will he spread there? What discontent will he rouse?”

From the end of the table Tynan Camus spoke, leaning back with feigned nonchalance. His voice was smooth and plausible. “What do we care that these heretics spread their lies among the damned?” Tynan said. “Our walls are strong, and if they choose to wallow in dirt and sin, it is of no concern to us. The Lord punishes them daily; the Burn will take care of their lies.” His mouth curved into a smile, and his eyes moved from Nevin to fix firmly on Ennis. “Of course, there is no question that any of those who have rejected the Ark should be permitted to return to its shelter. Leaving is evidence enough that the Lord has not elected them for salvation.”

Ennis swallowed. “My daughter—”

“Has been granted grace enough by virtue of her birth!” Tynan pointed a finger, long and elegant. “It is clear to all, Pastor, that she is not among the saved. She was permitted to return once, though all could see the stain of sin upon her flesh. But this? To lead these heretics beyond the Ark? It is too much, even for Rhionna Channon.”

“Tynan speaks true,” Nevin said, her voice less passionate but no less harsh. “You have no choice, Pastor. These Seawolves may attempt blackmail, but you must cast off your daughter; she is dead to you now.”

Rhionna’s angry face rose before his eyes, fierce and determined. Beautiful, like her mother. His wife dwelled in the presence of the Lord now, but how could he bear that their daughter would never join her? “Rhionna is no heretic, it is only misplaced compassion that motivates her. If she did lead the strangers out—”

“If?” Tynan sneered, leaning back in his chair.

“It was not done through any disrespect to our Lord,” Ennis protested. “Her concerns are only with the people of the Badlands.”

“With sinners.” Tynan folded his hands upon the table. “Yes, we all know how
personally
she concerns herself with those who endure the Lord’s just punishment.”

“Intentions matter not, Pastor Channon,” Nevin reminded him. “These strangers are more dangerous then even you know, and the deed is done. Tynan is right. None of them may return to the Ark—including your daughter. The Knowledge they carry is too dangerous.”

Reeling, Ennis said, “What Knowledge? They came here to seek Knowledge, and we know there is none to find!”

There was a shuffling among the Elect, a low muttering, and then Tynan produced a silver box and placed it on the table. “Do you know what this is?”

Ennis peered at the object, suppressing a shudder. “The one called Daniel Jackson brought it, did he not?”

“He did. It is a camera for the capture of moving images.”

“So small?” For a moment, his concern was wiped away by amazement.

Tynan nodded. “Pick it up and press the button on the top.”

Doing as instructed, Ennis watched in amazement as the small black screen on the back of the device flickered to life and showed the faces of the strangers. He thought they must be players until he realized that the recording did not proclaim the Message but instead documented their activities—he saw a colorless landscape covered in strange, white sand, pierced by black rocks. He assumed it must be somewhere outside the Ark, for the strangers wore many garments that appeared like sunwear. But then he saw that their clothing was so thick that they would boil beneath the Sun. Was this, then, another world? A world where the Sun was weak and the air cold?

The image changed to that of Jack O’Neill looking down at something in the ground.

Daniel, get over here
.

His voice sounded like a tinny rattle. The view changed again, and Ennis started at the sight of human remains, half buried beneath the white sand. He saw a skull, pierced as if by a bullet.

Oh, my God
.

Major Carter’s voice. Then gloved hands pushed back the strange sand and the focus shifted so that Ennis could read the writing on a tag lost in the skeleton’s ribs.

It made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.

Dr. Maol Caluim.

He all but threw the camera back onto the table. “What is this?”

“
Acarsaid Dorch.
” Tynan’s voice was harsh as stone.

“But…” Ennis shook his head in confusion, disturbing his hood until he had to tug it back on. “The Lord struck down the heretics on
Acarsaid Dorch
, how is it that there are any remains?”

“The Lord,” Nevin said, picking up the camera and switching it off, “uses many tools to achieve His ends. Their heresy was ended by righteous hands and God’s just punishment was delivered to our sinful world. That is all that matters. However…”

Here she paused, and Tynan, still lounging in his chair, continued. “However, the strangers bring Knowledge of Caluim’s heresy. They talk of
Sciath Dé
, of bringing it to life in defiance of God’s will.” His voice lowered, losing its smooth edge. Ennis felt his dread and shared it; the image of Caluim’s skull, vivid against
Acarsaid Dorch’s
sin-black soil, turned his stomach. “And now that Knowledge will pass to the cursed
Seachrání
, to the Seawolves who scorn God’s people and live in defiance of His teaching.”

“They will seek to subvert the will of the Lord,” Nevin agreed. “For generations the Ark has sheltered the pure from His wrath and now we must stand, as our forefathers once stood, in defense of His chosen people.
Sciath Dé
must never be activated, and those who seek to try are the enemies of God.”

“Will you stand with us, Pastor Ennis?” Tynan said, reclining still but tense, as if he might leap from his chair at any moment. “Will you cast off the daughter who has brought heresy back into our world? Will you stand with the Elect in defense of our Lord?” He paused, the silence slight and meaningful. “Or will you stand with
them
, with the heretics and defilers, who would tear down the Ark and hand our world back to the damned?”

To that question, there could be only one answer. He lifted his chin, shoulders straight. “I stand in God’s Light. I stand with the Elect.”

Tynan smiled, and it looked like triumph.

* * *

As prisons went, it wasn’t the worst Sam had been in. It even had cable—whether you wanted it or not.
Sunrise
played on a large TV screen attached to one wall, and to her consternation, during the hours they had been held here, she’d found herself caught up by its meandering plotline and melodramatic dialogue. More than once, she’d had to force herself to look away. Teal’c sat on the floor, legs crossed and eyes closed, and at times like this, when there was nothing to do but wait and worry, Sam envied him his
kelnoreem
.

With even her watch confiscated, along with their weapons and radios, there was no way to tell how long they had been held. However, Sam had counted five episodes of
Sunrise
, each of which were at least an hour long. By now, Daniel and the colonel could be anywhere. She just hoped Ennis’s men had some way of tracking the
Seachrání
, otherwise looking for a couple of ships in that limitless ocean would be close to pointless. On the other hand, if the soldiers did find them, would they just end up in jail like she and Teal’c, facing torture by soap opera? When it came right down to it, Sam wasn’t sure which scenario she should hope for.

The opening credits for yet another episode of
Sunrise
rolled across the screen, and Sam fought the urge to scream. Instead she got up and, despite the futility, walked over to examine the featureless cell door once more. Of course, just like the last twenty times she’d checked, it was still sealed by some kind of internal electronic mechanism; there would be no escape this way.

She’d just turned away when the door hissed open behind her. Teal’c was on his feet in an instant, and when Pastor Channon stepped into the cell seconds later Sam briefly considered rushing him. But the two armed guards flanking him changed her mind.

“What’s going on, Channon?” she demanded. “Have you found Daniel and Rhionna yet?”

His fleshy face creased with worry, and for a moment she glimpsed a father’s anguish. But then his lips tightened and anger swallowed his concern. “It is your other friend who interests me most, Major Carter. Where is Colonel O’Neill?”

She shrugged and made a show of looking around. “Well, he’s not in here.”

“I think you fail to understand the gravity of this situation. Sorcha Caratauc has already failed to answer my questions and will pay the price, so I would suggest that you show more cooperation.”

So they’d taken Sorcha too. She felt a surge of revulsion. “What have you done to her? She’s an old woman.”

“A troublesome old woman,” Channon snapped, “and a corrupter of young minds. Save your pity, Major Carter. You know nothing of this world or its sins.”