Xover: Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 20/22
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Fri, 28 Sep 2001 08:09:59 GMT
If you are recieving a second copy of this, please forgive me,
but I have had reports that it has not gone through for many
people on the list. Apologies, Ecolea.
Chapter 25
Close to thirty thousand years of martial expertise in one small
room and what does it come down to, O'Neill thought. "If I have
to listen to one more Egyptian-Macedonian-Celtic-Jaffa drinking
song so help me..." he muttered to the Immortal sitting beside
him. "It wouldn't be so bad," he added, staring dismally at his
cup. "If we had something to drink besides Tang."
"You're telling me," Methos grimaced, knocking back his juice in
one shot. "Alex is composing an epic poem about yours truly -- to
be declaimed in proper Greek style. And the de Valicourts are
having a Come As You Were party -- we're all invited."
"That sounds...weird," O'Neill shook his head, not wanting to
imagine anything so bizarre.
"The problem is I don't want to go as I was," Methos complained.
"Either I'll be the only one dressed in rancid rhinoceros skins,
or worse -- bright yellow spandex. Neither is very flattering."
"Spandex?" O'Neill's brows nearly reached his hairline.
"Inanna designed the uniforms," Methos shrugged. "Looked great on
her."
O'Neill suddenly wore the oddest expression. "Excuse me, but...
I'm... Just gonna get some more Tang," he finished brightly. "I
really love this stuff!"
"Yeah, later," Methos gave him a halfhearted wave as the colonel
departed.
Across the room he watched the other Immortals, all seemingly
relaxed. Even Cassandra, who'd had that damned collar of
Kabra'kan's removed by Jacob shortly after they'd come aboard. It
had disappeared into her pocket and, according to Teal'c had
subsequently been blasted out an airlock on O'Neill's orders. She
caught him staring and wandered over, ignoring MacLeod's frown.
"You look depressed. Still going on about the party?" she asked,
sounding faintly amused as she settled down beside him.
"Come on, Cassandra, we'll be the only ones dressed in rags --
and at least you had cloth!" Methos fumed. "Maybe I should find
some authentic lice and bring them along. I can teach you kids
how to pick them off each other. Makes a wonderful after dinner
snack, you know."
"Personally, I preferred giant roasted spiders and stewed tree
slugs," Cassandra confided. "Want to make it a Dine Like The
Ancient Ones party, too?"
They shared a laugh, gaining more MacLeod scrutiny and Methos
looked away, not wanting the overprotective Highlander to spoil
the moment. Cassandra had spent most of the last three days
closeted with Cierdwyn in one of the smaller cargo rooms,
probably venting whatever residual anger she felt. And Methos was
glad for her.
"You haven't spoken to O'Neill, have you?" Cassandra suddenly
asked.
Methos shook his head. "No, I haven't. I--"
The sound of Jack's voice immediately overrode every conversation
in the room. "Okay, campers, let's pack it up. We'll be home,
sweet home in just a few."
With a cheer everyone rose to gather their personal belongings.
They debarked a short while later without incident, though the
atmosphere between O'Neill and Jacob as they parted had been
decidedly cool. They headed for the gate, pulling up short as
they came face to face with a delegation from the Tok'ra.
"Grand Counsel Garshaw," O'Neill nodded politely though his
address was wary. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Colonel O'Neill," she nodded, equally polite. "I apologize for
our abrupt appearance, but the Council wished to take this
opportunity to speak directly with your companions."
"Recruits," O'Neill corrected her. "They're still in training,
Garshaw."
"So we have been informed," she gestured vaguely toward Martouf.
"Though such training seems redundant when warriors of such
stature and experience are involved." She gave a little half bow
to the assembled Immortals. "But if they wish to indulge you,
that of course is their choice."
Methos raised an eyebrow at that. "Steady," he murmured to
O'Neill, who looked ready to explode.
"Be that as it may," Garshaw went on, ignoring the colonel. "The
Tok'ra wish to thank all of you for your noble efforts on behalf
of our cause. We would be remiss however, given your most unique
histories and outstanding brilliance, if we did not offer you the
strength, support and loyalty of all the Tok'ra to aid you in our
mutual struggle against the System Lords. We offer you a home. A
base from which to continue your efforts free from the Game. An
obscenity," she added, glaring pointedly at Jack, "which should
not be allowed to threaten your precious lives."
There was a stir among the Immortals, but Garshaw, seemingly
oblivious, went on. "You will find us most eager to learn from
you. Such wisdom and battle strategies are rare in this galaxy
and would be better served by allowing you to engage those
skills, rather than preventing you from utilizing them on a
constant basis -- and in tasks better suited to others. Together,
we can bring freedom and justice to this galaxy." She bowed
deeply. "I await your decision, Most Revered Ones."
Methos took one look at Jack and laid a firm hand on his
shoulder. "Steady, O'Neill," he murmured. "Give easily what the
Tok'ra do not."
The colonel stared at him and slowly nodded. "Trust," he
breathed, exhaling the word as if expelling a poison from his
lungs.
They both glanced at the Immortals, who stood huddled in a tight
group whispering furiously. One by one they went silent as if
debating something. Methos watched as MacLeod shook his head and
Cassandra caressed his cheek speaking very softly. Finally he
nodded and the group broke apart, Sergeant Bear ordering them to
fall in. He nodded to Alexander, who stepped forward to speak for
the group.
"Methos is the eldest of us. We choose him to answer for all."
"Well knock me over with a two by four," Methos muttered, clearly
stunned. He looked to Jack, who was now smiling broadly.
"Have at 'em, Pierson."
Methos sighed resignedly and moved forward, past the Immortals
standing at parade rest to stop before Garshaw, who now appeared
deeply concerned, though it was she who'd asked for this
confrontation.
"You know who I am, Grand Counsel Garshaw?" Methos asked quietly.
"Of course," she breathed. "You are Methos, son of Tok'ra, hero
of the Battle of--"
He held up a hand to stop her, not bothering to hide his
irritation. "Let's keep it simple, shall we? Are you willing to
accept my judgement in this matter?"
"Your people are wise to choose you," Garshaw nodded. "We will
abide by your decision, Revered One."
"Wonderful," he smiled thinly. "But first I have a few questions
to ask you -- rhetorical though they might be. First. Why, oh
why, Grand Counsel Garshaw, did you think to suborn these good
people?"
"We did not--!"
"Silence!" Methos called until the word echoed loudly through the
empty ruins. "You have had your say, now I shall have mine!"
She swallowed hard, looking visibly shaken by whatever she saw in
his eyes. Methos frowned deeply and began to pace before her and
the other Tok'ra, taking the measure of them slowly.
"You did attempt to suborn them, Garshaw," he continued almost
pleasantly a few moments later. "What else would you call it?
They are under the command of the Tau'ri military. I'd call that
subornation. So would anyone. And why is it," he paused briefly
to gaze at her. "That you chose this moment to make such an
interesting offer?"
Having learned her lesson earlier Garshaw said nothing.
"I'll tell you why," Methos smiled coldly. "Because the Tau'ri
had already done your job. Found themselves a unique and
exceptional weapon with which to fight the Goa'uld. And one they
did not have to beg, steal, or borrow -- a home grown weapon, if
you will. And once they'd honed that blade you wanted it for
yourselves," he sneered. "It's not enough to deny the Tau'ri your
technology, but you must strip them of any defense they might
have for your own desires."
"This is not true!" Garshaw gasped. "We only seek to better use
this tool. In their defense and ours."
"We are people, Garshaw, not tools," Methos said his tone belying
his affable expression. "And you seek nothing of the sort. Tell
me," he asked casually. "Have you a plan for what the Tok'ra will
do should they ever manage to overthrow the Goa'uld?" Her
expression grew watchful and Methos rolled his eyes. "Oh, relax,"
he sighed disgustedly. "I don't care about how you intend to get
there. I already know that. A fool could see it a mile off! I
just want to know what you plan to do when you have."
"We would seek to instill a desire for freedom and justice among
all the peoples of the Goa'uld controlled worlds," she responded
sagaciously.
Methos openly laughed at her. "Does anyone actually buy that
line? I mean really, Garshaw. I've never heard such lame
propaganda. Give me specifics. Better yet," he smiled. "Admit
that you have none."
The Grand Counsel frowned. "If you are not pleased, Methos, then
tell us what you would do."
"Me? I'd do nothing. I don't care about freedom and justice. I
care about paying my telephone bill and making sure I get the
video rentals back on time. Going to the library when I want, or
taking a walk in the park. Of course, I can't do any of those
things if the Goa'uld destroy my planet. So you could say I'm in
this just to maintain my quality of life. As for what you will
do," he pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. "That I can tell
you."
Garshaw remained silent and Methos went on. "To begin with, even
before you ever get control of anything, you'll start justifying
your actions with the two most wonderful words in the rebels'
dictionary. The Cause." He watched her flinch and nodded.
"Anything can be done in the name of The Cause because it is The
Cause. The common goal to which all good rebels and
revolutionaries aspire. Of course, once you've said those words
you've reached a turning point where the means begin to justify
the ends. In this case," Methos sighed with mocking sorrow. "The
Tok'ra have very nearly reached that point already." He paused
before Martouf. "Haven't they?" he asked the silent man.
Methos turned like a showman to the assembled Immortals. "Ladies
and Gentlemen, I give you the Tok'ra Jolinar."
He applauded slowly then stopped with a contemptuous glance over
his shoulder at Garshaw.
"For those of you never having heard of Jolinar," he went on
smiling. "She was Martouf's lady love. Being hunted by Goa'uld
assassins and nearly dead, her mission was far too important to
let a small thing like an uninformed and unwilling host get in
her way. She allowed her symbiote to forcibly blend with Major
Carter." He turned back to Martouf. "Jolinar did the one thing
the Tok'ra pride themselves on never doing. And she did it for
The Cause." He cocked his head as he watched Martouf's eyes flare
with anger. "Or maybe she did it for love. Who knows? Who cares?
She did it," his voice grew hard. "She made that choice and
crossed the line. Which one of you," he asked the Tok'ra, "can
say for certain that you would not make the same choice given
similar circumstances?"
There was silence and Methos nodded. "So the needs of the Tok'ra
have become one with the needs of The Cause. How typical," he
added sardonically. "There are some drug dealing rebels and
religious fanatics back home I could introduce you to. I'm sure
you'd all get along."
"And now we come to the future," Methos sighed, crossing his
arms. "Oh, what will you do when the Goa'uld are gone? And with
only five hundred of you to help instill all that freedom and
justice the galaxy so obviously requires. Pretty big job, huh?
Shame all the Goa'uld dominated worlds are incapable of helping
you out. They've been deliberately kept primitive after all.
Believing, unreasonable though it sounds to us, that anyone with
glowing eyes and too much vibrato in their voice might just be a
god. It'll take a long time to educate them away from that
nonsense. And trust me on this one, Garshaw, they'll butcher the
lot of you before they allow you to strip them of their gods.
More importantly, they'll hate you for it if you even try.
"But you know that, don't you?" Methos cocked his head, smiling
as if he were about to share a secret. "Deep down inside you know
you can't control it all. So as a stop gap you'll masquerade as
benevolent gods. Nice gods who've overcome the evil System Lords.
And you'll think you're still good, because instead of just
taking what you want, you'll ask the people for willing hosts
this time. And naquada. Don't forget you need it just as much as
the Goa'uld. So you'll have to keep a watchful eye on all the
worlds with mines. And other resources. Five hundred Tok'ra can
hardly be expected to bring freedom and justice to an entire
galaxy without supplies. And--"
"Enough, Methos, please!" the Grand Counsel whispered, looking
distraught. "That is not the path we wish to take."
"But, Garshaw, it is the path you are on."
"Then tell us what to do!" she pleaded. "We have asked you to
come to us. To lead us. We would welcome you with open arms. Why
do you deny us your wisdom?"
"Because you want a god. And I've been there and done that,
Garshaw." Methos smiled slyly. "And while the Goa'uld only
pretend to be gods, by their standards we," he gestured toward
himself and the others, "truly are. And that is not the path we
are on."
"Then you would serve the Tau'ri," the Grand Counsel nodded
resignedly.
"No," he told her forcefully. "We are the Tau'ri. They are our
people and Earth is our world. Their fight is our fight.
Understand that and you may just find the right path to walk on."
She stared at him for a long moment and finally nodded. "I will
think on what you have said. Speak with the Council. Perhaps you
would be kind enough, on rare occasions, to offer us advice?"
"Perhaps," he agreed distantly. "You'll need to get the
permission of my CO of course, but Colonel O'Neill has great
insight. You never know, he might be able to solve your problems
for you -- from time to time."
Methos watched her face, knowing he'd just upped the ante.
Finally, Garshaw sighed. "You are a most difficult man to
understand. And I apologize if we have in any way offended you
and your...recruits."
She still didn't get it, Methos thought with an inward shrug, but
he could always hope. "Farewell, Garshaw."
He nodded once and turned back to face the others. As a unit they
saluted him then one by one paused to salute O'Neill as they
headed for the gate.
"Nice," Jack commented as Methos fell in beside him.
"Well spoken indeed," Teal'c added.
"Not too long winded?" the Immortal asked.
"Maybe just a little," Jack replied. "You could have taken a
breath once or twice. But other than that..." Methos rolled his
eyes. "I think you've earned the right to ditch the skins -- and
the spandex. You were a lot of things, Methos. So... Just be who
you are."