XOVER: Changing of the Guard 5: Terms of Engagement 2/19 [PG13]
Ecolea (ecolea@wt.net)
Wed, 19 Jun 2002 00:04:12 -0500
Methos looked bored as O'Neill strolled around him, inspecting his =
uniform
to make sure everything was in place. He glanced down at himself and =
sighed.
He'd always thought he looked good in white, but this was a little much. =
The
only other color was the thin slash of medals at his breast and the =
green
and gold sash Jack was now adjusting. Of course, Special Uniform
Ambassadorial Whites did offer one interesting perk. He could wear his =
sword
openly as part of the uniform. Which was actually rather nice if he =
thought
about it. That hadn't been an option in polite society for a very long =
time.
"Stop fidgeting," Jack muttered. "It's unbecoming."
"Sorry, Mom," Methos rolled his eyes and Jack stared him down. "Okay, =
okay.
I'll try not to."
"Just remember, son, you're representing your entire world and that's a
mighty tall order. The impression you give is the one they'll associate =
with
every citizen of Earth. So I know you'll do your best."
Methos' brows rose. "You do a very good Hammond," he nodded =
appreciatively.
"He does it better," Jack responded, adjusting his own sash -- this one =
in
scarlet and gold. "But the sentiment still holds. And I'd hate to =
disappoint
him."
"I will do my best," Methos gave a little half bow.
Beside him, O'Neill took a deep breath, tightened his gloves and put on =
his
hat. "Okay. Let's do it."
"Relax," Methos smirked as they stepped to the door and it slid open. =
"We're
not going into battle. It's just a party. Linorac, our Lakwasian =
liaison,
told me at least one of the Alliance members hadn't even arrived yet, =
and
the Asgard rep never even attends. Apparently, it's mostly for us less
advanced members of the Protectorate. More of a trade meeting at this =
point
than anything to do with politics."
O'Neill nodded tightly and Methos gave up as they followed Linorac down =
the
corridor to a set of rings. They "arrived" several levels up, and in mid
air, if what they saw was to be believed. They braced to fall despite =
the
fact that there were quite a few people wandering around the floating =
tables
or sitting in seemingly airborne chairs.
"Now this is what I call an outdoor function," Methos swallowed hard,
staring down at the clouds below his feet once he could breath.
"Yeah," Jack choked, slowly inching forward. "I think we'll take a pass =
on
this technology."
"You'll get no argument from me."
It took more than a bit of faith and courage to leave the perceived =
safety
of the rings, but they managed, mostly by following in the confident =
stride
of their liaison. A short time later they were both feeling a lot more
comfortable, having learned to not look down, but to focus on their
immediate surroundings. It had been a shock, but every so often the =
outer
shell of the transparent pavilion would glow brightly with vividly =
colored
scenes and images. Not only to help define the actual space, but also
entertaining the delegates.
"Welcome, Ambassador O'Neill," a soft feminine voice said from behind.
The colonel turned and Methos thought he looked relieved. "Lya," he =
smiled
brightly, "always a pleasure to see you."
The representative of the Nox inclined her head. "And this would be
Ambassador Methos," she smiled.
"An honor," the Immortal said, bowing politely to the woman, who =
reminded
him of something out of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream; a =
veritable
woodland nymph in her flowing robes and bird's nest hairstyle.
"We had not realized that the Ancients had chosen to renew their =
presence on
this plain of existence," Lya began as they walked slowly around the
pavilion.
"It was Tok'ra's decision," Methos explained enigmatically as Lya raised =
an
eyebrow. Her statement had been directed at Jack and Methos' response =
was no
doubt puzzling.
"Would the representative from..." she glanced at the identifying sigils =
on
the sashes provided by their hosts, "...Earth care to meet a few of the
delegates currently open to trade negotiations?" she inquired politely.
Methos looked to Jack, not quite willing to leave him alone, but seeing =
no
help for it if Lya was going to insist on questioning him. The colonel =
gave
a slight nod.
"You two kids have fun," O'Neill told them. "I'll just...mingle."
As O'Neill wandered off, Methos, not quite sure of the etiquette =
involved,
offered the lady his arm. She seemed surprised, but took it nonetheless =
and
they continued walking.
"You will forgive me," Lya began again, "if I seem perplexed by Tok'ra's
choice. I have the greatest respect for Colonel O'Neill, yet he is young =
and
immature. A far cry from the wisdom you yourself might bring to our
alliance."
"What an interesting statement," Methos mused as they paused to view a
passing flock of green and orange avian creatures. "You equate great age
with great wisdom. Odd, I have often found the opposite to be true. I
believe Colonel O'Neill can offer far more to this alliance of yours =
than I
ever could."
"You do yourself a disservice," Lya gently protested.
"Do I?" he smiled coldly. "O'Neill is far more likely to be concerned =
for
you and yours than I am. He would trouble over betraying you. I would =
not
suffer so much as a pang of conscience." He watched as her eyes widened,
satisfied with her reaction. "It is you who do O'Neill a disservice when =
you
assume his relative youth and inexperience are a drawback. He has =
passion. I
have none. He has dreams. I lost mine ages ago. He has the urge to =
protect
and defend the welfare of others. Mine is to cut and run. He would give =
his
life for yours. I'd stand back and watch you die if it meant my =
survival.
Believe me, Lya, you are far better served by O'Neill's youthful =
idealism
than by my millennia of cynicism and self-interest."
She raised her chin in seeming defiance of his words. "You seek to =
distress
me. Why?"
"There is a reason Tok'ra chose O'Neill. Would it not be wiser to think =
on
that, putting aside your prejudices, than on what you perceive to be the =
end
result of his choice?"
"I shall," she agreed thoughtfully. "Now, perhaps you would care to meet =
the
delegation from Gallisia. I am told their world is quite similar to your
own."
Chapter 3
"Well, that was... A pointless exercise in futility," O'Neill sighed as =
he
stripped off his jacket a few hours later when they'd returned to their
rooms.
"Maybe not," Methos disagreed, removing his sword. "While you were =
wandering
about making small talk with beings of indeterminate species, I chatted =
up
the very human representative from Gallisia."
"Where's that?" O'Neill asked curiously.
"Somewhere at the other end of the Milky Way Galaxy, or so I gather," he
responded sitting on the edge of a divan. "What does it matter anyway?
They've got a gate and," he added with a sly grin, "they have faster =
than
light space ships."
Now the colonel looked very interested. "Weapons technology?"
Methos smiled widely. "Maybe a century ahead of us, but accessible."
"Only a century?" O'Neill repeated. "And they've got warp speed? How =
does
that happen?"
Methos shrugged. "Apparently they had some sort of breakthrough =
recently.
According to Hoshmid, the Gallisian ambassador, they've had space flight =
for
at least two centuries. Mostly limited to their own solar system, but
they've recently developed some new technologies through interaction =
with
other planets."
"Sounds vaguely familiar," O'Neill commented sardonically. "Any trouble =
with
the Goa'uld?"
"None," Methos sighed. "Apparently, they only recently discovered their
Stargate. No one knows who actually colonized the planet, but it's been
protected ever since. Some sort of weird experiment from the sound of
things."
O'Neill looked puzzled.
"The original settlers were a mixture of different cultures, not just =
one,"
Methos explained. "A kind of smorgasbord of humanity. Perhaps an attempt =
to
recreate the exact conditions on Earth," he shrugged. "As a consequence, =
the
Gallisians are a multicultural, multiethnic and vaguely religious =
people.
God is an asexual amorphous entity that takes nothing, gives nothing and
might not even exist. They're not at war with each other, or the half =
dozen
worlds with which they currently have trade relations. Their =
government's
elected, they encourage the arts, and they have a highly advanced =
medical
community."
"Sounds too good to be true," O'Neill frowned.
"Or," Methos pointed out. "It could be exactly what it seems. Earth =
without
the antagonism created by millennia of war. I've always wondered what =
would
happen if you just took a group of people from every area of the world =
and
all walks of life then put them someplace they'd have to work together =
to
survive. Seems to me," he added, "if this was an experiment, it turned =
out
rather well."
O'Neill nodded slowly. "Maybe," he shrugged. "Anyway, it's worth =
checking
out. Think they might be interested in opening a dialogue?"
Methos grinned as he rose to leave. "Ambassador Hoshmid said they'd be =
happy
to discuss a trade relationship."
At that Jack smiled warmly. "Nice work, Pierson."
"All part of the service," Methos yawned, heading for the door.
"Get some sleep," O'Neill called after him. "We'll meet first thing =
tomorrow
to discuss strategy."
Methos waved his agreement and the doors slid shut behind him. O'Neill
sighed tiredly, staring balefully at the incredibly pink surroundings.
"Could be worse," he muttered, shaking his head as he went to retrieve =
the
volume of conference materials their hosts had provided. "You could be
sleeping in the clouds, rather than under them."
With an internal shrug he found a comfortable place in a corner chair =
and
started leafing through the book, absently humming the theme song for =
the
Barbie commercials.
***
Thankfully, the conference center was located firmly on the ground. =
Standing
at the entryway, Methos and O'Neill gazed up at the ceiling of the
moderately spacious auditorium captivated by the light show above -- an
ever-changing display of the universe in all its glorious parts. =
Exploding
stars, far-reaching nebulae and galaxies of infinite variety and color
filled the indoor sky.
"Neat," O'Neill commented as they waited with the other delegates for =
one of
the Lakwasians to guide them to their seats.
"Colonel O'Neill!"
Jack turned to find another familiar face coming towards him.
"Narim," he greeted the newcomer politely. "Fancy meeting you here."
The tall, dark-haired man smiled courteously. "I am equally surprised to =
see
you as well. Is Major Carter with you?"
Methos raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He'd read about the
handful of Tolan who'd been rescued by SG-1 and subsequently aided in
rejoining their people on a New Tolana after their original home world =
had
been destroyed. This man had been among those listed in the report and =
had,
according to Daniel, struck up a friendship with Samantha Carter. For =
whom
he apparently had deep feelings, at least from what Methos now observed.
"Ah...no," Jack explained. "Carter couldn't make it this time."
"I am sorry to here that," Narim looked disappointed. "Nevertheless, I =
am
pleased that Earth will be..." He trailed off in shock as he caught =
sight of
the sigil hanging from the sash across O'Neill's chest. "You are not the
representative from Earth?"
"No," Methos stepped forward. "I am."
Narim stared at them in confusion then O'Neill took pity on the other =
man
and introduced his companion.
"This is Captain Pierson," he said looking to Methos. "Pierson, I'd like =
you
to meet our good friend Narim. I'm not sure what he does when he's at =
home,
but I'd guess he's here as a representative of the Tolan people."
"Observer," Narim corrected. "Tolana is an independent world, long past =
any
need for protectorate status. Still, our people have an interest in such
gatherings and I will be reporting back to the Curia."
"I thought your people were isolationists," Methos commented and Narim
nodded.
"With good reason," he replied calmly. "Tolan history is not something =
we
have had much chance to discuss, but once, many centuries ago, Tolana, =
like
Earth, was a protected planet. At the last meeting of the Alliance =
Council
that protected status was removed along with that of several other =
planets.
Worlds, which had, in the intervening centuries, obtained faster than =
light
travel. At the time, the Tolan people were in contact with one of those
worlds -- a planet well within the Goa'uld sphere of influence. We were =
of a
similar nature. Both peaceful, stable societies that shared equivalent
technologies. In time, we developed a strong friendship with their world =
and
it was from the Z'omar that we discovered the network of Stargates. With
their help we recovered our Stargate. Then, one day, not long after both =
our
worlds lost protectorate status, the Goa'uld attacked and destroyed =
Z'omar."
"But why?" Methos asked.
"We do not know. It was as if one day they were there and then they were
not. The few survivors who escaped to Tolana had no explanation for the
attack. But from that single event the Tolan began to develop the =
defensive
strategies we have today. But tell me," he finally asked O'Neill. "How =
is it
that you are speaking for the Ancients? I had always believed you were
entirely human."
"Oh, Jack's still human," Methos hurriedly interjected. "He just has the
most gray hair."
O'Neill frowned. "You know, I could say rude things about guys who are =
older
than dirt. Some of whom have all the maturity of a preadolescent =
computer
nerd -- but I won't."
Narim ignored the odd comment and turned to Methos. "I am not sure I
understand."
"That's all right," the Immortal smiled amiably. "Means there's so much =
more
to learn."
"But..." Narim went on. "Despite the fact that Colonel O'Neill has
introduced you as Captain Pierson, are you not also Methos? The one whom =
the
Tok'ra praise as the hero of--"
"No!" Methos snapped angrily. "I am not the hero of Annu'tak'ra. I was =
just
a bloody aide still wet behind the ears! And the Tok'ra have annoyingly =
big
mouths."
"Forgive me," Narim responded diplomatically. "But they do speak well of
you, Methos. When the Curia was informed that a new representative for =
the
Ancients had been chosen, they naturally assumed it was you."
"It is him," O'Neill murmured quietly. "It's just... Pierson doesn't =
like
all that hullabaloo and hero worship stuff. So... I'm just filling in."
"And this is allowed?" Narim asked, appearing somewhat shocked and =
obviously
uninformed as to the true identity of the Ancient actually assigned to =
the
Alliance Council.
O'Neill shrugged. "Well... Nobody's said anything so far."
"Forgive me, Colonel," the Tolan said stiffly. "But you are not =
qualified to
speak for the Ancients. You may speak to matters regarding Earth, but =
you
have not the wisdom to decide matters beyond your comprehension."
The Tolan hurriedly excused himself and Jack looked worriedly to Methos.
"Sorry," he said, reaching to remove the Sigil of the Ancients. "But I =
think
this plan has had it. He'll run straight to Thor, or maybe Lya. They'll =
have
to take notice then."
"No, they won't," Methos insisted, lightly resting a hand on his arm. =
"It's
my choice. And I can do just as I like. If they won't let you speak for =
the
Ancients, I'll walk."
It was a lie coupled with an empty threat, but Methos watched the =
colonel
closely until the other man finally nodded.
"Okay," he said, lowering his hand and leaving the sigil in place. =
"We'll
let it ride and see how things go. But if they do make us switch we are =
not
leaving. Understood? I want at least one of us on that council when the =
time
comes to vote."
"Yes, sir," Methos nodded, heaving a silent sigh of relief as a =
Lakwasian
finally approached with an offer to lead them to their seats.
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