by Crane, J. F.
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 w
as 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.”
“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 i
s 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?”