by Crane, J. F.
He looked down at the table and drew his finger through a droplet of spilled wine. “Do you still spend your time there? Outside?”
“It’s best that I don’t answer that.”
He nodded; apparently her response was answer enough. “And are you still…do you still…?” He faltered, then said with a sneer, “The Seawolf. Do you spend your time with him?”
The pain was unexpected and powerful. Rhionna swallowed against the sudden constriction in her throat. “No. No, not now.” It was all she could trust herself to say, but it seemed to appease her father.
“I believe Brother Camus would yet have you, you know,” he said. “You will be Pastor one day, Rhionna. It would be an advantageous marriage.”
Whenever her father raised this subject, a favorite of his, Rhionna was always vocal in enumerating the reasons why such an idea was repellent to her, but tonight she hadn’t the strength. There were greater battles to fight. She just wished that she could count her father as an ally. “The strangers… They can help us. They know about Sciath Dé. Perhaps this is the chance we have waited for.”
“I have awaited nothing.” His eyes narrowed and he said, “Did you have anything to do with their escape?”
Rhionna toyed with denial, but decided she did not care if her father knew her role in this. “I want them to know the truth.”
He brought his fist down on the table, sending the upturned glass crashing to the floor. “Rhionna!”
“Please, Father! Please let them help us.”
For a moment he said nothing, simply stared at the shards of crystal on the floor, and in those few seconds hope was bright. Had she, at last, managed to persuade him that the truth could not be hidden? But then he raised his eyes to meet her and all she saw was resignation.
“This is the way of the Message, child. The Sun is our Lord and our Judge. There is no way to change that.”
And with her father’s words, Rhionna knew that her course was now set. The meeting with the visitors would change everything, and there would be no turning back.
Chapter Four
The night had grown dark, and when Teal’c looked up he could see no stars through the dome that shielded this city from what lay beyond.
He did not speculate as to what that might be, but his instinct—what O’Neill would call his ‘gut’—told him that it was dangerous. Too much was hidden in this place, too many lies told in the guise of truth, for him to believe that all was well on the world of Ierna. And so he kept his guard raised, his attention ranging out beyond the whispered discussions between his team, and into the city at large. Even from this distance he could see the white flicker of the screens that projected the Message onto the vast sides of towering buildings, he could hear the distant hubbub of a city, and beneath it all he could detect the tramp of booted feet. Teal’c did not doubt that they were being hunted by the men who served the Elect.
But they did not come close to the place Rhionna Channon had selected as a meeting point, which made him at once thankful and suspicious. Daughter of the Pastor, her loyalties remained unclear despite her protestations. The Jaffa on Chulak had an expression for such situations—bait your trap with Satta-cakes, not gruel. He would be vigilant.
They awaited her in a deserted plaza beneath a vast, empty tower. At the center of the space a flat rectangular structure, about as high as his waist, sloped down toward a circular area surrounded by a low wall. Once, perhaps, it had been a fountain trickling into a pool but now both were dry and dusty. O’Neill sat on the edge of the slope, swinging his legs to mark his boredom, however the tight grip he maintained on his weapon belied his feigned indifference. Major Carter had her back to them all, covering the other entrance to the square. And Daniel Jackson was studying the footage he had taken on his camera, his face ghostly in the light shining up from the screen.
“…really, it’s quite remarkable,” he was saying, gaze intent and brow creased. “We’re looking at a culture that apparently dates its existence from a hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Yes, apparently,” O’Neill said. His eyes were hidden beneath his cap, shadowed in darkness. Teal’c did not need to see his face to hear the cynicism in his voice. Neither did Daniel Jackson.
“I’m not saying they sprang into being a century and a half ago,” he said, his tone skirting irritation. “But there’s clearly been a significant loss of knowledge about their own history. And a retrograde step of that magnitude is almost always the result of some kind of societal cataclysm—war, plague, disaster. Huge population loss.”
“Collective amnesia?” O’Neill had stopped swinging his legs and sat very still. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
After a silence Daniel said, “There are plenty of reasons why people forget their own past, Jack. Almost none of them involve memory stamps.”
“Yeah, and almost all of them involve some smart-ass in a suit rewriting history to make himself the good guy.”
Daniel Jackson switched off his camera. The small light disappeared and left him in the shadows. “That’s a fair point—history, as they say, is written by the victors.”
“Question is, who’s the enemy?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?” Daniel Jackson stood up and stretched. “That’s why we’re meeting Rhionna.”
“Is it?” O’Neill didn’t move. “Is that why we’re here, Daniel? Because I thought it was to get hold of the shield.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive aims.”
“Daniel’s right, sir,” said Major Carter. “Rhionna may be able to help us find out more about the shield.”
“Sure,” O’Neill said. “At a price.”
“You don’t know that, sir.”
“Oh, I think it’s a good bet.” He jumped down from the fountain, his boots drumming a dull boom from the bottom of the empty pool. “There’s always a price.”
“Now you just sound cynical,” Daniel Jackson said.
“Yes,” O’Neill agreed. “That’s because I am cynical!”
“It may be a price worth paying, sir.” Major Carter had half turned from her post. Teal’c could see the gleam of her eyes in the dark. “If that shield really could help defend Earth from attack by the Goa’uld…”
“A price worth paying.” It was a muted echo. “And what if the shield turns out to be a crock, then what? What if all that happens is us ending up saving some other screwed-up world from itself while we get— Then what? You still think that’s a price worth paying, Major?”
She was silent a moment. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I think it is.”
O’Neill didn’t answer, just muttered something indecipherable under his breath.
“Come on, Jack,” Daniel Jackson said, “you’ve never made this just about the standing orders before.”
“Yeah, well P3R-118 changed my mind.”
In the silence that followed Major Carter turned back to her watch, but Daniel Jackson was not so wise. “That’s just one place.”
“They were in our heads, Daniel! They were screwing around with our minds. And what did we get out of it? Nada. Zilch.” He slammed his fist against his chest. “Nothing but a pain in the goddamn ass.”
“We saved those people from slavery,” Major Carter said, her back still turned. “That counts for something.”
“Not enough,” O’Neill growled. “And, just so we’re clear, this time we’re here for the shield. And that’s all. Got it?”
“Well, you can’t just…”
The rest of Daniel Jackson’s protest faded from Teal’c’s ears as he saw a shape detach itself from one of the buildings in the darkness beyond the plaza. “O’Neill.” He raised his weapon and dropped into a defensive crouch. “Someone approaches.”
“Carter?” Teal’c heard the snap as O’Neill unsafed his weapon.
“Nothing this side, sir.” Her voice was tense, but calm.
Then, from the shadows, stepped the slender figure of Rhionna Channon,
her hands raised. “It’s me.”
“Are you alone?” Teal’c peered into the darkness but could see no other movement.
“Entirely,” she said, stopping some distance away. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. I was obliged to dine with my father tonight. He would have become suspicious had I not attended.”
Keeping her covered, Teal’c rose. Behind him, he sensed O’Neill moving forward. “I guess they’re already wondering where we are.”
“Yes,” she said. “The Elect Guard have been deployed to search. We must leave this place before sun-up.”
“Must we?” O’Neill stepped forward, his weapon leveled. “And where must we go?”
At his side, Daniel Jackson sighed. “Jack…”
“Daniel.” He shifted his weapon, using it to indicate Rhionna Channon. “I’ve got a better idea. We stay right here and you tell us what you know about the shield.”
The woman lowered her hands. No longer dressed in the gown in which she had attended the chapter, she was once more attired as if for hard work. “I cannot tell you all you wish to know,” she said, her gaze holding O’Neill’s. “However, I will take you to a woman who can.”
“Bring her here.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
She hesitated. “You must trust me, Colonel O’Neill. The Elect will tell you nothing of Sciath Dé—it terrifies them. But I can. I can help you, but you must come with me—you must trust me.”
“And why should I do that?”
Folding her arms across her chest, Rhionna Channon appeared as intransigent as O’Neill. “Because, if you want to find God’s Shield, you have no choice.”
* * *
The city after nightfall was just plain weird, and Jack couldn’t help thinking back to Daniel’s talk of war, plague, and disaster. There was definitely something post-apocalyptic about the dark, empty skyscrapers that loomed along the outskirts while the city’s tiny heart flickered with the plasma-glare of 180” screens hanging from the sides of buildings.
Rhionna kept them far away from the light as she led them through the city, and Jack was grateful—if only because he was spared from having to watch more of the god awful soap being pumped out into the streets.
“You’d think they’d get bored,” Carter murmured.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Daniel said. He was a couple of steps in front, head turning from side to side as he tried to take it all in at once. “If this is the only entertainment they can get, the only culture permitted…”
“It is the only culture they want,” Rhionna said, glancing back at them. There was anger in her dark eyes, a flare of frustration. “They are like animals at the trough, eating only what they are given, without question.”
“But you question,” Daniel said. “What makes you different?”
Her expression sharpened and she looked away. “What I have seen,” she said with a frown. “What I will show you.”
It was the truth, Jack thought, but not the whole truth. There was something she wasn’t telling them.
Up ahead, a knot of people suddenly appeared around a corner. Rhionna stopped dead, breathing something under her breath. It was difficult to make out details, but Jack knew a soldier when he saw one and instantly raised his weapon. Teal’c and Carter did the same, only Daniel lifted empty hands. “Daniel,” Jack hissed, jerking his head in a get-behind-me motion.
Daniel ignored him, of course. “Who are they?” he said to Rhionna.
“The Elect Guard. Stay here.” Over her shoulder she glanced at Jack. “Lower your weapon.”
“I don’t think so.”
The soldiers had also stopped, taking up a defensive posture as one man detached himself from the group.
“Captain Tanner,” Rhionna said, walking toward him.
“Brother Camus thought you would have some hand in this business,” the captain said. He spoke quietly, more anxious than angry. “Would that I had not discovered you.”
“Then look with blind eyes, Captain,” she said. “I am taking them to the Badlands.”
Badlands? Jack exchanged a look with Daniel who just shrugged.
The soldier spared them a glance. “Tonight? Rhionna—they staked three in the Burn just yesterday. Three found in the tunnels. It’s not safe.”
“This is my only chance to show them.”
“But to what end?”
“To…” She hesitated. “They need information. Does not the Message teach that we should help those in need?”
With a snort, Tanner said, “I had not thought you paid so much attention to the Message, Rhionna.”
“Only when it is in my interest to do so.” Reaching out, she touched the man’s arm. “They seek Sciath Dé. If they can find it…”
The captain looked from her face back toward SG-1. “You have no reason to trust them; did they not come from the Other Place?”
“Tanner, you know we must question all we are told. Everything we know of the Other Place is told to us through the Message. How can we trust it?”
He looked down at his boots, thinking. At Jack’s side, Carter mouthed ‘Other Place?’ When Tanner spoke again, it was in a voice so low that Jack could barely hear him. “Very well, this night my eyes are blind to you and my men will keep their silence. But go quick, Rhionna Channon. The Elect fear these strangers.”
“I know,” she said. “And that is why we should trust them.” She squeezed his arm. “My thanks, Captain Tanner, to you and your men. I know what you risk.”
Then she turned back to Jack and beckoned them forward. “We must hurry. This way.” With that, she disappeared around a corner.
Carter broke into a jog to follow, Daniel and Teal’c on her heels. Jack brought up the rear, casting a glance at the soldier watching them with serious eyes. Neither spoke, but in the gloom Jack saw an honest face and gave the man a nod. Tanner did the same, then spun on his heel and returned to his men.
Clearly there was much more going on in the Ark than met the eye.
And Jack hated that.
Gripping his weapon more tightly, he followed his team. As he rounded the corner, he saw Rhionna crouching in the middle of the road, staring at the pavement.
Jack drew closer. “What’s going on?”
Tension in her face, Carter shot him a look. “Secret passage.”
“Not secret,” Rhionna said, grunting with effort as she lifted a heavy metal plate from the road. “But hidden from these òinseach.”
The foreign word held enough bile not to need translation. And, anyway, Daniel didn’t seem to be paying attention. His gaze was fixed on the gaping black hole Rhionna had just opened up. “Down there?” he said with a rasp in his voice.
Jack felt something thump hard in his chest, a beat of alien panic. Jonah’s panic. Carter shuffled her feet, fingers turning white where she grasped her weapon. And Daniel glanced up at the night sky as if drawing strength.
He remembered, like half a half-forgotten scent, his first day in the mines. Except he’d never been in the mines and it wasn’t really his memory.
Other memories were, though; memories of unremitting labor and lightless, stifling heat. The tasteless slop, the constant hunger, the hopelessness—
“What’s down there?” Carter’s voice broke into his thoughts.
Rhionna looked up, the distant light of a dozen television screens catching in her eyes. “They are service tunnels—engineers use them to maintain the city’s water and sewage systems.”
“No boiler rooms, then?” Jack said, mostly for the benefit of his team.
Daniel’s mouth curled toward a bitter smile, but Carter’s gaze remained locked on the metal ladder leading down into the dark.
Rhionna frowned. “Boiler rooms?”
“Never mind.” Jack took a breath and pushed the memories aside—over the years he’d grown accustomed to locking certain thoughts into little dark rooms, and this was no different. “You wanna tell us where
we’re going?”
He met Rhionna’s gaze, taking the measure of her. She stood up, unfazed by his scrutiny. “Outside the Ark. This is the only way to leave. You will have to trust me, Jack O’Neill.”
“I guess I will.” He flung a look at Teal’c, who nodded—it wasn’t exactly approval, more like agreement, but it was welcome; Teal’c’s instincts were always on the money.
“There is light in the tunnel,” Rhionna said, without waiting for more of an answer. She swung onto the ladder, slipping down fast and sure, and Jack was reminded of a firefighter.
“I’ll take point,” he said, stepping onto the ladder and testing his weight on the iron rungs; they felt solid. “Teal’c, cover our six.”
With that, he started to climb down and tried not to imagine the crushing weight of a mile of ice above his head.
* * *
Sam had never in her whole life felt claustrophobic. Yet, as she reached the bottom of the ladder and blackness pressed in around her, her breaths came short and sharp. She grabbed her weapon, the weight in her hands familiar and comforting, but the clamor of the power plant still echoed in her mind and incipient panic clawed at her chest.
Then light flared, a magnesium-bright lantern held aloft by Rhionna. Sam forced the tension in her shoulders to ease and in the bone-white glare saw Daniel squinting and turning away. He looked strange with his short hair, less like Daniel and more like Karlan.
She didn’t like it down here, in the depths.
“I don’t like it down here.” Daniel’s words were all but drowned by the scrape of metal on stone that ricocheted down the tunnel. Teal’c had shut the manhole cover.
Sam took a breath and let it out slowly.
“This way.” Rhionna turned to lead them out into a wider space.
Sam followed, aware of the colonel falling in beside her. She didn’t look at him, afraid that in this place she might see another man looking back. To distract herself from the confusion of memories, she focused on understanding exactly where they were.
The tunnel was rough-hewn, but with enough conformity to suggest that it had been excavated mechanically rather than by hand. The stone was gray and dry, cut on a gentle downward slope, and through the center of the tunnel ran three large pipes supported at intervals by struts. Her footsteps scuffed on the stone, but all was not silent and, in the distance, Sam could hear the hum and clank of machinery.
