XOVER: Changing of the Guard 5: Terms of Engagement 1/19 [PG13]
Ecolea (ecolea@wt.net)
Wed, 19 Jun 2002 00:04:04 -0500
Changing of the Guard 5:
Terms of Engagement
By Ecolea
Prologue
Somewhere in Scotland...
The weather was cold and damp, but Jack O'Neill wasn't complaining, not =
when he was sitting in an old weather-worn deck chair on the shore of a =
beautiful loch with a fishing rod in his hands. Nearby, someone quietly =
hummed a tune, but O'Neill didn't bother to turn his head.
Methos was good company for fishing trips, Jack decided. The Immortal =
had brought along a small collection of rather eclectic music, a large =
stack of books to read and an even larger journal in which to write. And =
once he got involved in any of these pursuits Jack heard nary a peep out =
of him. Which was a good thing, because he'd been worried. Methos could, =
and would, offer up an opinion on anything and everything.
Not that he minded -- most of the time anyway. But fishing was about =
silence, pure and simple. And the opportunity not to think, not to =
comment, and especially not to care about anything -- not even the fish. =
Instinctively, Methos seemed to understand this need. Right now, the =
ancient Immortal was sitting on a rock ignoring the fine mist of rain as =
he listened to his music, staring at the distant horizon as if his mind =
and memories were reliving another time and place.
Jack felt a slight tug on the rod and lowered his eyes from the horizon. =
The line bobbed, making ripples around it and he smiled with =
satisfaction as he reeled it in. A short time later he added another =
good-sized lake trout to the bucket near his feet. It just didn't get =
any better than this.
He baited the hook again and tossed his line in, sighing as he settled =
back to wait for the fish to come to him. From behind, he heard the soft =
sound of Methos gently humming then suddenly felt a familiar tingling =
sensation against his skin that presaged another visit to an Asgard =
ship.
"Ah... Pierson?"
The world shifted suddenly beneath his feet and O'Neill fell backward, =
landing with a loud, "Oomph!" as he connected with the deck. He heard a =
gasp from behind and turned to see Methos wearing a panicked expression =
as he leapt to his feet.
"Whoa! Relax," he told the Immortal, who was staring wildly around the =
room. "There's only one guy who ever just shows up and sweeps me off my =
feet." Jack turned to see the small gray alien sitting in his command =
chair and smiled. "How ya doin', Thor? You here for the fishin', good =
buddy?"
Chapter 1
"Greetings, O'Neill. Methos," Thor inclined his head.
The ancient Immortal raised an eyebrow as Jack got to his feet. "You =
seem to be well informed," he said coolly, despite the fact that part of =
him was desperately trying not to stare at the odd little alien.
"You do not remember," the Asgard supreme commander intoned. "But then I =
should not be surprised. You were perhaps," he raised a hand to his =
shoulder, "just so tall when you and your father visited our world."
"Just so...?" O'Neill shot Methos a glance and a wide grin. "I figure =
about two or three. How 'bout you, Pierson?"
Methos narrowed his eyes, but refused to be baited. O'Neill might know =
this creature, but he didn't -- no matter what claims it made. And with =
his sword back at the lodge he felt distinctly uncomfortable in these =
unfamiliar surroundings. He knew he shouldn't have left it behind, even =
if Jack insisted his zat gun was more than enough protection should a =
stray Immortal wander by.
"Nothing jumps out. Sorry."
"So," O'Neill said, trying to lighten the mood as he approached the =
Asgard commander. "This a friendly visit, or did you need to see me =
about something?"
"It is both, O'Neill. For nearly fifty thousand of your years the Asgard =
have served as the guardians of those worlds deemed in need of =
protection in this galaxy. Since the formation of the Alliance of the =
four great races. Which, as you know, are comprised of the Asgard, the =
Nox, the Furlings and the Ancients, every thousand years we hold what =
you would term a conference to assess the progress of these worlds. We =
formally register those which must be added to the list, and discuss =
which worlds may remain within or be released from protective status."
"Sounds...fascinating," O'Neill nodded politely.
"Yes. It is most fascinating," Thor agreed.
"Great! I'll just give Daniel a call. He loves this sort of thing."
"There is more, O'Neill."
"More," he sighed resignedly.
"With Inanna now dead, there is only one representative of the Ancients =
currently available to attend. You--"
Methos' eyes went wide as he vigorously shook his head mouthing the word =
"No!" The Asgard paused and O'Neill followed Thor's gaze, looking behind =
him, but Methos had stopped the motion already.
"Congratulations, Pierson. Looks like you're gonna miss out on some =
pretty good fishing."
"Actually, O'Neill," Thor explained. "We require both your presence. A =
delegate from Earth as well as one from the Ancients."
Which one was which, Methos thought with an inward sigh of relief, the =
alien thankfully didn't mention.
"It is believed Earth may benefit by such an exchange," Thor continued. =
"The conference is also used by many attendees to form trade alliances =
with other races of similar technological status."
"Great," O'Neill pasted a smile on his face. "Thanks, buddy. I can't =
tell you how much I'm looking forward to this."
"You are welcome," the Asgard nodded. "You may use the console to your =
left to contact your superiors and inform them of the circumstances. In =
the meantime," he shifted his gaze across the room. "Methos and I will =
get acquainted."
***
"Would you care to explain your actions?" Thor quietly asked as Methos =
joined him.
The Immortal frowned dangerously. "You're assuming quite a lot here. =
O'Neill may know you and trust you, but I don't. You could be anyone at =
all, making claims of which I have no memory and of which you have no =
proof."
"You require reassurance," Thor nodded. "Will an image of yourself and =
Tok'ra from our archives be suitable?"
Methos swallowed hard. What memories he had of Tok'ra were hazy. Would =
he even recognize the man? "It would certainly be a start," he said =
calmly.
The Asgard waved his hand in a complex series of motions over the =
armrest of his chair and a small holographic image appeared. "This is =
from my personal collection."
Methos stared dumbstruck at the image hanging in the air before him. The =
man, Tok'ra indeed, he was sure of it, was tall and dark of hair with =
kindly blue eyes that seemed to say a thousand things. Beside him stood =
an Asgard, perhaps Thor himself or one of his ancestors, while a few =
feet away sat a small boy, whom they were both watching. He began to =
reach out a hand toward the image then lowered it self-consciously.
"I have no memory of this," he said quietly. "But it is him."
"Then you believe me."
Methos nodded shortly. "Enough to listen," he responded, dragging his =
eyes away from the image which quickly faded.
"Then tell me why you have not seen fit to inform O'Neill of the changes =
made to his DNA? When we scanned for him there were alterations at the =
molecular level that cannot have been achieved by this world's current =
technology."
"No," Methos sighed. "Tok'ra made the changes himself." If Thor had had =
eyebrows or hair they would have been welded together, the Immortal =
thought. "It's a long and complicated story, but it's true. And the =
reason why I haven't told him is simple. He doesn't need to know. Not =
yet, anyway."
The alien looked doubtful and Methos frowned. "Look, I've seen what =
happens to people when their lives are suddenly disrupted by this kind =
of knowledge. It's painful at best, horrific at worst. It can take years =
to recover whatever emotional equilibrium they had. Jack doesn't need =
that right now. His plate is full, but not overflowing. The truth would =
simply make his life even more complicated."
Thor seemed to consider his words carefully. "I believe I understand," =
he finally nodded. "Then it is a wise decision, Methos."
"Not wise," he snorted. "Selfish. I like Jack just the way he is and I'm =
not ready to give that up yet."
Thor cocked his head. "And if he discovers the truth on his own? O'Neill =
is not a man who enjoys being surprised."
Methos gave a little shrug. "He'll either understand my choice or he =
won't. In the meantime, I will do my best to see he isn't surprised. =
Luckily, he is not like me, or I would have no choice."
"Ah, yes," Thor nodded. "The Game."
Methos lips thinned with a hint of anger. "What do you know about it?" =
he asked with distaste. "You sit here watching. Observe and record. I =
know the drill. Which reminds me," he added, "I want my sword."
"You will not require it," Thor told him calmly.
"That isn't the point," Methos responded sharply. "We both know Ancients =
have bred Immortals across the galaxy since they evolved. I will not =
take the chance that there are others I might run into who are as =
misguided as my own brethren are on this planet. So you will get me my =
sword or I will convince O'Neill that this conference is a bad idea and =
you will have no representatives to show for your trouble."
Thor seemed taken aback. "You would set your own survival above the =
common needs and goals of your world?"
Methos let his eyes go cold. "I would set my survival above the needs =
and goals of any world." He shook his head slowly. "Make no mistake, =
Thor. I am not the sweet child whose image you may harbor. He's been =
dead a very long time. Now, if you please, my sword."
The Asgard inclined his head, again making a small gesture over his =
chair arm. "As you wish," he assented and the weapon appeared, stacked =
with a few other things, namely extra clothes and uniforms. "And I =
believe I now understand why O'Neill was chosen. His balance may be =
exactly what you need."
"Perhaps," Methos replied laconically as he crossed his arms and relaxed =
his stance. "Or maybe I simply ascribe to the ages old philosophy of =
getting one's bluff in early. Generally saves trouble in the long run. =
Wouldn't you agree?"
At that Thor smiled. "Yes," he nodded. "I too have had occasion to apply =
this philosophy."
"You two kids gettin' along?" O'Neill asked as he rejoined them.
"Just chatting," Methos told him blandly.
O'Neill glanced at the pile of personal gear he'd asked for and noticed =
the sword.
"Play nice, Pierson. Thor's a friend."
"Of my father," he smiled affably. "Or so I've been led to believe."
"Knew Tok'ra, did you?" O'Neill looked to Thor.
"You could say he was something of a mentor to me," the alien agreed. =
"For thousands of years the Asgard have passed down their knowledge =
genetically."
"Yeah, I can see him being into that whole mentor thing."
A pair of Asgard crewmen suddenly entered and O'Neill straightened. Thor =
nodded to the pile and the crewmen came forward to gather up their =
things while Methos hurriedly reacquired his sword.
"We shall reach Lakwasa within the hour," Thor explained. "You will no =
doubt wish to change into more suitable clothes prior to our arrival. My =
crew will escort you to an appropriate location. Have you any =
questions?"
"What's Lakwasa?" Jack asked.
"The home world of the Lakwasians," Thor replied blandly.
"I knew that," Jack grinned. "And when we get there? What happens?"
"There will be a reception this evening followed by two days of =
discussion and a final vote. In the meantime, you will have an =
opportunity to study the conference materials which will be made =
available to you once we arrive."
"Oh, goody," Jack muttered. "I was worried about getting bored."
Chapter 2
"This is...charming," O'Neill gazed curiously around the nearly empty =
room. "And very...pink."
A tall, thin Lakwasian -- also very pink -- chattered something back at =
him and O'Neill merely stared. Then the Lakwasian made a move to touch =
his face and O'Neill backed away. "What the--?"
"Relax, Jack," Methos said as the door opened behind him. "He's just =
trying to help."
The Immortal bowed to the Lakwasian then said something unintelligible =
in the alien's own tongue. At that, the Lakwasian seemed to smile, =
although with so many razor sharp teeth in its mouth the expression was =
mildly disturbing. He handed something to Methos and departed, leaving =
the two humans alone.
"I knew you'd have a problem," Methos sighed. "Just stand still a =
minute, okay?"
O'Neill raised an eyebrow as Methos reached out a hand and touched him =
gently behind the ear. He felt a tiny pinch and pulled away, rubbing the =
spot and frowning.
"You wanna explain that, Pierson?"
"It's called a language enabler," the Immortal grinned. "Sort of a =
biochemical universal translator chip. Incredible, huh?"
"Uh, yeah," O'Neill shrugged, rubbing the back of his ear. "How does it =
work?"
"It's working now," Methos told him moving toward a control pedestal -- =
the only furniture in the place. "We're having this conversation in =
Chinese."
"Cool," O'Neill looked impressed. "We get to keep 'em?"
Methos gave him a slight smile. "I'll see what I can do. Amanda isn't =
the only one with highly specialized fine motor skills."
"Never mind, Light Fingers Louie," Jack held up a hand. "It's probably =
Asgard. We don't snitch stuff from our friends."
"Your whim is my command, Boss. Now, come here. I want to show you how =
this thing works."
O'Neill stepped over to the pedestal and watched as Pierson touched a =
few colored squares and furniture began appearing out of the floors and =
walls.
"See here," Methos told him as the furniture started to shift around the =
room. "You can even rearrange everything to your personal preferences."
"Barbie's Dream House," O'Neill winced at the neon color scheme and =
grimaced. "Sweet."
"Don't knock it, Jack. This'd make great student housing."
"Yeah, for the bubble gum set."
Methos sighed and went to find a seat. "Out with it, Jack. What's really =
bothering you -- other than the decor?"
O'Neill frowned, pacing over to a window to stare out at the cityscape =
below. "It's this whole Ambassador of Earth thing. I really hate this =
stuff. I never know what to say."
Methos nodded gravely, giving an inward shout of joy. "Then don't be the =
Ambassador from Earth," he said quite seriously.
"Tried that already. When Thor speaks everybody listens. He wants me as =
Ambassador, he gets me."
"Yes, but he can't argue if I deputize you as the Ambassador of the =
Ancients and vice versa. We simply switch places."
"And what good will that do?" O'Neill demanded.
"Because from what I've heard the Ambassador of the Ancients doesn't =
really need to do anything. He just sits there, looking all profoundly =
wise and incredibly interested while everyone else speaks. And frankly," =
Methos added the cincher. "When it comes down to who gets to have a say =
in the Lollipop League I'd rather you have the deciding vote, not me."
"How's that?" Jack asked curiously.
"Look, I'm an Immortal, not an Ancient. We're related, yes, but only =
because a small portion of their energy is spun off for us to be =
created. I'm the next best choice, I suppose. Tok'ra's adopted heir. And =
you know how I feel about all that nonsense."
He paused to see how Jack was taking it. The colonel looked interested, =
but not quite sold on the idea.
"And I do understand the needs of Earth. Not as well as you, I'm sure, =
but well enough to speak to her current needs if required. More =
importantly, as Ambassador for the Ancients you can look at the bigger =
picture and see how the Goa'uld will view any changes the Alliance =
decides to make. You've been at this quite a bit longer than I have and =
are certainly more qualified to make judgment calls in that regard."
O'Neill nodded thoughtfully. "Given a choice, you're right. I'd rather =
be in on the big decisions. But they'll never go for it."
Methos smiled coyly. "Trust me, Jack. They'll never even notice."
"Y' think?"
"Well, not publicly," Methos amended, throwing out his final card. =
"Remember, they're old races. Bound up in tradition. It wouldn't be =
polite to comment on whether either of us has the right to sit in =
whichever seat we've chosen. Especially if neither of us is complaining. =
Besides, they figure I'm an Ancient, so it's expected for me to be =
eccentric."
"Eccentric?" O'Neill repeated, slightly confused. "Just how eccentric?"
"Brilliant as they were," Methos explained, "wise as they were. Almost =
an entire race of beings decided to shed their earthly forms and become =
one with the cosmos. That's definitely a bit out there, don't you =
agree?"
"Well, yeah. Maybe," O'Neill shrugged. "Definitely gives a whole new =
meaning to the term group rate."
"And then there's Tok'ra. My father. Decides to throw treaties and =
agreements out the window and fight a guerrilla war to save the =
universe. I seriously doubt they've gotten over the shock yet. They'll =
expect pretty much anything from me."
O'Neill frowned, squinting narrowly at the Immortal. "I suppose, in some =
weird-ass way, that all makes sense, Pierson."
"So we switch?" he asked hopefully.
"Sure," O'Neill finally sighed. "Why not. If anybody says anything we =
can always say we mixed up the sashes."
***
---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com).
Version: 6.0.371 / Virus Database: 206 - Release Date: 6/14/02