SG1-17 Sunrise (38 page)
“Why have you come?” she said at last, voice as dry and cracked as the Badlands themselves.
“In search of you.”
The only sound was the distant lap of the waves on the shore, the whisper of the wind across the land. “I have spent my life collecting words,” Sorcha said at last. “And yet I now find that I have none to give you this day. What words are enough to speak of my remorse?”
Rhionna crouched to Sorcha’s level. The sun burned into her back, but she did not move. “You know what my father was, Sorcha Caratauc; he died a better man than he lived.”
Moisture glinted on the old woman’s cheek, tracing the lines of her face. “You have a right to hate me.”
“No.” She stretched out her hand and took Sorcha’s dry fingers in her own. “What you are, Sorcha, this place has made you. You carry no blame.”
“I killed your father, girl.”
“He earned his own fate. But I take comfort that his last act was to share the truth.”
Sorcha blinked, sharp eyes a glint beneath her brow. “The truth?”
“About
Sciath Dé
.”
Like new blood flowing, hope surged through the old woman’s veins. “Then you have found it?”
Rhionna smiled and rose to her feet. Above her the Ark gleamed, a giant oyster pearl offered to the sky. She held out her hand. “Come,” she said. “Look.”
Holding her ragged scarf tight around her head, Sorcha pushed herself upright. “Look at what?”
“Wait…”
And then it happened, as Samantha Carter had promised it would. A flare shot up from the Ark, and a rainbow flash of light danced across the deep blue sky until a dozen ghostly crescent moons shimmered far above.
Sciath Dé
, the last hope of their ancestors, spread over their world to shield them from the sun. Rhionna held her breath, not sure what to expect next. Then, though the sunlight did not dim, she felt a change in the heat.
Sorcha felt it too, pulling her hand out from within her long sleeve and turning it over in the sunlight. “It does not burn,” she said, her voice a whisper of disbelief. “I had never thought to see this day. It does not burn…”
Smiling, Rhionna pulled off her sunwear. Sunlight fell on her, a benign heat, and she raised her face to welcome it for the first time in her life. “This is only the beginning, Sorcha.”
“Aye, that it is.”
She looked at the old woman; the wrinkled face was as marked and damaged as ever, but her eyes were alive with renewed hope. The hope of her people, a hope she had carried almost single-handed her whole life. “I speak now for the people of the Ark,” Rhionna said. “Faelan speaks for the Seachráni.” Sorcha’s eyes narrowed; she knew what was coming, but Rhionna forged on regardless. “Will you speak for the people of the Badlands, Sorcha Caratauc?”
“Inside the Ark?”
“We are one people now,” Rhionna said, once more holding out her hand. “
Ni neart go cur le cheile
.”
Sorcha hesitated a moment, then threw back her scarf and shook out her tangled gray hair. It glinted like steel in the sunlight. “Strength in unity,” she said, and took Rhionna’s hand in her strong grip. “And we shall need every bit of it upon the path ahead.”
Rhionna answered only with a nod, and together they began the walk, out of the Badlands and toward the bright, uncertain future.
“…and so
,” Major Carter concluded, “although the shield wasn’t exactly what we’d been hoping for, I actually think it could be very valuable.”
Hammond folded his hands on the desk, casting his eyes over the schematics the major had distributed. “But not against the Goa’uld.”
“No, sir. But Faelan said we can return any time to study the technology and, as I’m sure you already know, geo-engineering is increasingly considered the way forward in tackling climate change.”
“Yes,” Jack agreed. “We already knew that.”
Major Carter smiled, shifting in her seat to accommodate the sling that supported her arm. “Let’s hope it never comes to that, sir, but the ability to deflect significant amounts of solar radiation might be important one day.”
“So they say.”
Her eyes widened. “So they
say
?”
“Come on.” He cast a conspiratorial glance at Dr. Jackson. “You know what these scientists are like, Carter, it’s all about the research funding.”
“With all due respect, sir, that’s—”
“Oh, he’s right,” Daniel said. “I mean, they’ll come up with any crackpot theory to get money out of the government.”
Teal’c lifted an eyebrow. “Such as pyramids being landing platforms for alien space craft?”
Daniel pointed a finger at him. “Exactly!”
Carter shook her head, caught between exasperation and amusement. “Okay, guys, I get it. Ha-ha, very funny.”
O’Neill spread his hands. “What?”
Hammond let it ride for a moment, enjoying the camaraderie between the team, then he held up his hand for silence. “People, I’m going to consider this mission a success—on both technological and humanitarian grounds. Job well done.”
Serious now, O’Neill nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Dr. Fraiser tells me Major Carter will be fit to return to duty in one week. So, until then, consider yourselves stood down.” He got to his feet, signaling the end of the debrief. While SG-1 gathered their papers and began to leave, he said, “Colonel, a word?”
With a glance at the departing team, O’Neill followed Hammond into his office. “Sir?”
Hammond perched on the corner of his desk, taking in the sunburned face and wary eyes of his second-in-command. “I think you know what I’m going to ask.”
“If it’s about the golf clubs—”
“Jack.”
He plunged his hands into his pockets, rebellious as a schoolboy.
“I still have Dr. Fraiser’s report on my desk, Colonel, and I need to know how your team is coping.”
“How?” He shrugged. “The usual way. We’re getting on with it, sir. That’s what we do. You want me to say everything’s fine now? One mission down and it’s like P3R-118 never happened? I can’t do that. You know I can’t.”
There were shadows in his eyes, and George Hammond knew better than to dig deeper into what had happened between the team in Caulder’s power plant. Fraiser had her concerns, that was her job, but Hammond had commanded men for a long time, and he knew when to intervene and when to step back. With Jack O’Neill, it was almost always worth stepping back. “You helped a lot of people on Ierna,” he said, getting up and moving behind his desk. “It wasn’t the mission objective, son. You didn’t have to do that.”
O’Neill gave half a shrug. “Actually, sir, I think we did. Turns out it’s kind of an SG-1 thing.”
“Yes, it is.” Hammond sat down, and O’Neill met his gaze with a frank stare. “It’s good to have you back, Jack. All of you.”
“Thanks, sir. It’s good to be back.”
They exchanged a look, their understanding mutual and unspoken. Then Hammond said, “Before you go, I have something you might be interested in. For your eyes only, of course; if you tell anyone you’ve seen it, you’re on your own.”
He slid a file over the desk, and O’Neill picked it up with a raised eyebrow. “Sir?”
“They’re calling it the X-301 Interceptor. I thought you and Teal’c might like to check it out.”
Finally, Jack O’Neill grinned. “Now
that
sounds like fun…”
J. FRANCES CRANE is the pen name of Sally Malcolm and Laura Harper.
Sally has penned three novels in the Stargate universe - STARGATE SG-1
A Matter of Honor
, STARGATE SG-1
The Cost of Honor
, and STARGATE ATLANTIS
Rising
, the novelization of the pilot episodes. She has also written several Stargate audio dramas for Big Finish, including STARGATE SG-1 “Gift of the Gods” and STARGATE ATLANTIS “Savarna”. Her latest audio drama, STARGATE SG-1 “An Eye for an Eye”, staring Michael Shanks and Claudia Black, will be available in 2011.
STARGATE SG-1
Sunrise
is Laura’s debut novel. Writing as J. Frances Crane, Laura Harper and Sally Malcolm have recently completed their first original novel,
Sherwood.
