P is for Patches of Sunshine

Light had not reached inside the old temple in hundreds of years. The upper floors were gone; sheared off, crumbled away in some ancient quake that had taken out a substantial part of the surrounding city. The room Daniel and Sam stood in was all that remained of an archive that once held thousands of tablets and scrolls, and given shelter to scribes who labored away to preserve the history of the Mekrit.

Even this room, which smelled of time and decay, had not escaped the encroachment of the forest that had all but grown over the old city. Only one wall was free, and that one had been split open at one time to form a grotesque doorway in place of one that had been lost. The other walls were mostly covered in a build-up of sand and clay, though in some places Daniel could just see a hint of what was hidden underneath.

The wall he was working on, gently teasing away centuries of grime and dirt, was in desperate need of preservation. What little of its façade he could see was cracked and peeling away, and the once vibrant colors that washed across its surface were virtually faded beyond recognition. There was writing though, crude and almost totally worn away in places, most likely by time and exposure to the elements.

"Looks Greek to me," Sam said, peering over his shoulder and adding the light of her flashlight to his.

Daniel directed the beam of his light up to the very top of the wall, to where the writing was more uniform and recent, and slightly more preserved. "It is," he said with no real enthusiasm, because he was totally distracted with what little he had managed to translate so far. "At first glance it looks like whoever carved these inscriptions was taken from Earth around the Hellenistic era, despite some phrasing that seems a little out of place. However, I'm also seeing some Byzantine influences. Classical era. The writing is all over the place... historically."

"Can you compensate?"

"I have been," he said dryly. "Would be helpful if the lighting was a little better."

Sam stepped back and shone her flashlight around the ceiling in a full sweep. The weight of the collapsed floors above had caused the structure of the room to fracture in places. That it had remained standing for so long in such adverse weather conditions was the only reason Cameron had allowed them inside. "Cam, Vala and Teal'c have gone back to the Stargate for a scaffolding and a portable lighting tower. Nothing much, but it should be enough to give you access to the upper part of the wall."

"And there's the next mystery. See this?" Daniel directed his beam over to the far side of the room, to an intersection between two walls that was almost buried to the ceiling in compacted soil. "Repeated earthquakes and subsequent flooding have caused a sedimentary build up that has almost buried this part of the building. I'm almost positive that somewhere under all that dirt there is a mural, a visual representation of the writing on the walls."

"Because this is a Greek thing?"

"Thing?"

"Something you've seen back on Earth. Writings accompanied by a visual depiction."

"Well, the Greeks were famous for their mural work, much like the Romans. No, it's more that I've come across several passages of text that refer to depictions of an object of great cultural and religious importance."

"Like a sign that says, 'this way'?"

"Yeah, that's funny. What has me most confused is the reference to Atlas."

"Greek god of?"

"Nothing. He was the Titan who held up the celestial spheres. Son of Iapetus and Clymene. Mostly known as the Titan of navigation and astronomy. He was also one of two Titans that governed the moon. There is a large bronze sculpture of Atlas at the Rockefeller building in New York which depicts him holding a representation of a celestial sphere on his shoulder."

"I don't see the connection."

"Neither do I, except that in some academic circles Atlas' association with navigation and astronomy was taken a step forward to include acts of heavenly retribution. Thunderbolts and lightning, that kind of thing."

"So this object of cultural and religious importance could be connected to Atlas?"

"The reference is vague. Atlas isn't mentioned by name, more the idea of who he was and what he represented. Call it a form of symbolism."

"Sounds complicated." Sam walked across to the soil encrusted wall. "I guess we can try and dig away some of the debris and hope the rest doesn't come down on top of us. There really is only so much we can do without bringing in an engineering team."

"Not worth it."

"Really?" She turned and shone her flashlight at him. "That's so unlike you to turn down a chance to go digging for treasure, Daniel."

"Now you sound like Vala." He turned back to the wall and its mish-mash of writing. "What I mean is that we don't exactly have the resources to turn this area in to a full blown archaeological site. And then there's the unstable weather-"

"Tell me about it," Sam said, cutting in. "The MALP has registered as many as eight different weather patterns around the Stargate in a matter of hours. I don't know how the Mekrit have managed to survive so long under these conditions."

"They adapted. Not much choice when you have nowhere else to go."

"Yeah, and me telling them their god was dead hardly helped the situation."

"Mot. Personified as a god of death."

"Dead god of death."

"And very out of place here."

"Not Greek?"

"No. Semitic. In this case I'd say he was opportunistic. Saw a power vacuum and moved to fill it. Yet..."

"The writing on the wall tells a different story?" Sam asked.

"Tells no story, at least not as far as who ruled and at what time, which could mean that whichever Goa'uld brought them here from Earth was long gone by the time these walls were used as an historical reference."

"And another one stepped in to fill the void but didn't rate a mention?"

"Or Mot forbade all forms of writing, ensuring there was no historical documentation of his rule."

"Cruel."

"But not unusual, even on Earth."

"Carter, come in."

Sam reached for her radio. "Go ahead."

"Got your lights and ladders. On our way back to you now."

"Roger that. I don't suppose you picked up a shovel or two while you were there?"

"Don't tell me... Jackson found something?"

"More of a might have found something."

"Shop's closed and we have a boat... scratch that, a dinghy to catch. He'll have to get his hands dirty."

"Had a boat to catch. Taphir says the weather is too unstable to risk a trip to the island right now."

"Nothing but sunshine here."

"Give it ten minutes."

"That bad?"

"Oh, yes."