SG1-17 Sunrise (21 page)

“You were unable to do so last night.” His eyes opened to slide her a look.

She shrugged, acknowledging the truth. “Because by the time I got back from speaking with General Hammond it was too late; there wasn’t another power dip significant enough to release the locking mechanism. I guess it only happens at times of peak usage.” She fished out her DoD pass and waggled it in his direction. “Tonight I’ll be ready.”

“And where will you go, when you escape this place?” The voice belonged to Sorcha, who sat with her knees pulled up to her chest. Ennis’s threat of execution had done little to dull the shrewd gleam in her eyes. “Will you return to your world and leave us to our fate?”

Uneasy with the question, Sam straightened. “Colonel O’Neill and Daniel have to be my priority. I’m sorry. It’s not that we want to abandon you, but I have to give General Hammond a full report on what’s going on here so that we can figure out how to get our people back.”

“Your people come first.” Sorcha gave a sharp nod. “Yes, that is as it should be. But what if I were to tell you that I can help you find your people?”

Sam shared a quick look with Teal’c.

“You have already told us,” he said to Sorcha, “that Colonel
O’Neill and Daniel Jackson are in the place called the Cove—a
place inaccessible without a boat. We do not have a boat.”

“True enough, and by the looks of you there’s no seawater in your veins.”

Teal’c inclined his head. “Indeed, there is not.”

“But…” Sorcha glanced up at the ceiling, and Sam wondered if she was looking for a video surveillance camera. More quietly, Sorcha continued. “I have a device, given to me by Faelan some years ago.” She smiled, a flash of crooked teeth. “Well, given to Rhionna in truth, but given into my care. A device through which I can talk to the Seachráni at the Cove.”

“A radio?” Sam scrabbled across the floor to Sorcha. “You have a radio? Where?”

“Radio,” Sorcha repeated, as if tasting the word for the first time. “Radio… Yes, if that is what you call such things.”

“Where is it? At your home? Ennis said it was burned to the ground.”

Sorcha smiled again. “Ennis is a fool, and I am not. Did you think I would leave all my precious Knowledge under nothing but canvas? This is not the first time the men of the Ark have tried to destroy my work, but they are fools and do not know what they see.” Her bony hand reached out and touched Sam’s wrist. “Come with me, come back to the Badlands, and talk with your friends.”

“It is unlikely,” Teal’c said, “that their captors would permit them access to this radio.”

“Captors,” Sorcha said with a shake of her head. “Faelan Garret is a stubborn fool, no doubt, but he did what he did to save his life, not to take another’s. Your friend Daniel Jackson is safe, I’ll vouch for that, and for Jack O’Neill too if he didn’t tip himself into the drink or burn upon the deck.”

Neither of which was likely, Sam knew; if anyone could take care of himself it was the colonel. But she’d seen the knife pressed to Daniel’s throat, seen the desperation in Faelan’s eyes, and she knew what fear could do to good men. Whatever Sorcha thought, she had no doubt that Faelan Garret would pitch both Daniel and the colonel overboard if he thought they posed a threat to his people. However, even a slim chance to speak to them was hard to pass up. “If we go with you,” she said, “it’ll be difficult to get back to the gate.”

“If you return to your world,” Sorcha countered, “it will be impossible to return to the Badlands, impossible to find your friends—or the shield you seek. Would you leave Ierna without the means of protecting your world against its foes?”

Sam shook her head. “We have other technologies…” But she trailed off, imagining the debate with Hammond. No one got left behind, sure. But Tynan Camus had made it clear that the Elect would resist. How many men would it take to fight a way through the Ark and out into the Badlands? More than Hammond would be willing—or permitted—to deploy. And then what? Faelan’s people could be anywhere in that vast ocean, and the storm was closing in fast.

“If you speak the truth,” Teal’c said to Sorcha, “then it is likely that our best chance of retrieving O’Neill and Daniel Jackson lies in your hands.”

“I speak the truth,” Sorcha promised. “I pledge my life to that. Come with me, speak with your friends—find out what they have discovered at the place of Last Hope. Then choose your path.”

“Discovered?” Sam echoed. “You believe the shield is there, then? At the Cove.”

“I am certain of it,” Sorcha said with a firm nod, fixing Sam with an unbreakable gaze.

It made her uncomfortable, reminded her too much of Brenna’s fixed stare as the lies had fallen from the woman’s lips. A hot burst of anger flared in her chest, and Sam took a swift breath to cool it. Different place, different person. Move on.

“Okay,” she said, when the silence had grown long. “We’ll go with you and speak to our friends. And after that?”

Sorcha smiled. “After that, Samantha Carter, you can decide what path best serves the interest of your people. And mine.”

* * *

For a while, Jack was left alone with nothing to do but lean on the railing and watch the play of the whales. Then, as the sun continued its downward arc, even they disappeared. Impatient, he pushed away, determined to find Faelan, only to see the man striding toward him.

“At the risk of sounding like a five year old on a trip to Disneyland, are we nearly there yet?”

To Jack’s immense relief, Faelan nodded. “The crew are preparing to boats to go ashore. Are you still keen to see how my people live? I warn you, Colonel. It is not a pleasant sight.”

Though Faelan’s eyes were hidden behind the sun visor, Jack could see the tight set of his jaw. He also heard the brittle edge to his voice. How much worse than the Badlands could this other place be? And why did it seem to matter so much more to this man?

Doubting he’d get a straight answer, Jack simply said, “I think I can handle it.”

Faelan regarded him for a few more seconds, the visor’s black plastic reflecting nothing but Jack’s own image. Then the captain nodded for Jack to follow.

Once in the longboat they headed for a jagged strip of dark gray in the near distance. Land.

Progress was swift, and they quickly approached the shore. It was completely different from what Jack had expected. This wasn’t the ramshackle wooden quays of the Badlands or the decaying spires of the Cove, but rather a sleek marina with purpose-built piers glinting in the light of the setting sun. And it was empty, entirely empty, apart from the vessels docked along each pier; fishing boats past their sell-by date that looked likely to break apart the first large wave they encountered. The tiny crafts bobbed in their berths, lonely and cheerless. The place was steeped in a feeling of civilization forgotten; a lost land ready to tip over the edge of the world. Unease prickled along Jack’s spine.

Beyond the marina rose a series of low, rocky peaks. When Jack surveyed the terrain he noticed a glimmer of reflected sunlight at the summit of one of the hills. There was a building up there.

“Is that where we’re headed?” he asked one of the crew as he climbed ashore, but the woman barely glanced at him as she walked past.

“I don’t think they like me very much,” he said, when he caught up with Faelan.

The
Seachrání
captain shook his head. “Not at all, Colonel. They’re intrigued by you. They can’t understand why you would bring your people to a world like this. They don’t know what you hope to achieve.”

It was a good point, but one Jack couldn’t really answer. “Maybe they just don’t understand hope very well.”

Faelan gave a grunt of derisive laughter. “They understand the futility of it.”

“And why would that be?” The question was stupid, Jack realized; all he had to do was look around him to see why these people had so little hope. But rather than hand him the obvious answer, Faelan rubbed the back of his neck and turned away. At that point Jack knew there was another story here.

Just then, a shout from up ahead drew his attention. The cause of the commotion was behind them, though. Turning around, Jack saw a vane of dust moving towards them; vehicles were headed their way. Jack shifted his balance forward onto the balls of his feet, ready to move, the only visible concession he made to his instinctive apprehension.

The approaching vehicle turned out to be something resembling a bus; old, but sturdy, and designed for all terrains. Engine chugging into silence the bus stopped, and its driver stepped out, an older woman wearing the vital sun-visor, with a scarf wrapped round her head.

“
Cead míle fáilte
, Finn,” she called, words of welcome that Jack had heard uttered in the Badlands. She strode towards them and, to Jack’s astonishment, grasped the Seachráni captain in a tight embrace, which Faelan returned. After a moment, she drew away from him and smoothed her hand across his cheek. “
A leanbh
,
fáilte, fáilte,”
she said, her voice softer now, obvious affection in every word
.
“Too long it’s been, boy.”

Faelan only nodded, looking abashed.

The woman turned to the rest of the crew, embracing others in turn, exchanging fond greetings. The closeness between them only served to make Jack feel like more of a stranger, outnumbered and on his own.

Then, as the crew turned to the task of loading supplies onto the bus, the woman’s gaze landed on him and her lips thinned. “You’ve brought me a guest, Finn? And you haven’t yet introduced him?” Her words were friendly, but it was impossible to miss the suspicion that laced them. Jack couldn’t say he blamed her.

“Muirne Connaught, this is Colonel Jack O’Neill,” offered Faelan.

“From the Ark?” asked Muirne, extending hand in greeting despite her obvious apprehension. Her head tilted as she took in Jack’s clothing.

“From Earth,” replied Jack.

Muirne turned sharply to face Faelan, who nodded in confirmation. “He came through the Sungate, along with three others. Sorcha was right.”

“If she was right about the Sungate, Finn, then what of her other claims?”

Faelan only shrugged.

“You mean the shield?” said Jack. Muirne’s eyebrows rose with surprise.

“It’s why he’s here,” said Faelan. “He and his team are chasing old children’s tales.”

“Don’t be so dismissive of that which you don’t understand, Faelan Garret,” said Muirne, in stern tones. “If not for Sorcha Caratauc’s children’s stories we would not have a refuge here.”

Faelan set his jaw. “Reason enough to distrust everything she says on the matter,” he muttered, but Muirne ignored him.

“Well,” she said, “it’s hardly hospitable having a guest stand about in this heat. Let us go to the
Tearmann
. I’ll send more transports down for the others.”

The journey up into the hills was dusty and bumpy, and the noise from the bus’s engine made small talk impossible. Which suited Jack just fine. Muirne handled the wheel deftly, but even her skill couldn’t make the trip comfortable. He was grateful when they finally rumbled to a halt inside a walled compound. As they disembarked, he realized that there was something familiar about the surrounding buildings.

“This is the Ark,” he said to Faelan, while Muirne dealt out commands to both the Seachráni and those who had approached from inside. Jack looked up and saw the familiar glimmer of a dome far above. “This is exactly like the Ark.”

“Not exactly,” replied Faelan, pulling off his hat and visor and shedding his coat. Though the sun’s rays were filtered, the temperature inside the dome was stifling.

“Okay, so your AC’s not as efficient but—”

“Look around you, Colonel. These people are hungry. They’re sick and they’re poor. Do they resemble anyone you’d see in the Ark?”

Jack glanced at the faces of the men and women who bustled around them, some unloading supplies with brisk efficiency, some boarding other vehicles to make a second trip down to the marina. Faelan was right; they all had that same pinched look he’d seen among the
Seachrání
, the people of the Badlands, and a dozen other places he didn’t want to remember; it was the look of those who knew deep, bone-gnawing hunger.

And yet there was something else about them too, a keenness, an intelligence. There was none of the broken despair of the Badlands, or the addled complacency of those within the Ark, nor the bitter cynicism of the
Seachrání
. They laughed, they spoke frequently, and in rapid sentences. There was a vibrancy here that Jack hadn’t encountered anywhere else on the planet. But for some reason Faelan couldn’t see it.

He turned to say as much, but found that the man had already marched off to help the others.

“My apologies, Colonel,” said Muirne, appearing at his shoulder. “His tongue sometimes forgets what good manners are.”

Jack shrugged off the apology and followed Muirne. The woman seemed keen to talk, and he figured she’d be more likely to give him an answer than Faelan. “So what is this place?” he asked looking around. Though it resembled the Ark, on closer inspection it was easy to spot how different it actually was. The buildings looked older, most of them in disrepair, and there were no ornamental gardens or parks. The most notable difference was the lack of giant screens with their endless loops of
Sunrise
. Jack decided that he liked it a hell of a lot better this way.