The repetitious three-tap to the thigh should've been confirmation that he wasn't in a reasonable headspace. His I know where this will go following the forewarning that he's a Wanted man throughout the Galaxy, plus the nonchalant wicked grin that ensued should've confirmed that he wasn't in a reasonable headspace.
Hell, the 672 to Command should've substantiated the parameters for a mission failure and the necessity to return home.
Yet, none of it did. Thus, they proceeded with their objective. And now they're here, with the colonel — the leader — of the new Tau'ri planet and fifth Race in a lone standoff against the protection detail of the Cyria planet. Not just against the six men who materialized into the main room operating hurora but also with the rith, Cyria's lower-tier leader.
Jack's motions are abstracting as his grasp on the weapon continually loosens and repositions. He quickly blinks and surveys his surroundings, his breathing weighty and inconsistent. Six men tarry before him, one empty-handed, and five barrels are honed at him.
"Jack," cautiously begins the archeologist with his hands raised in a surrendering format. The older man's engagement is hardened on the protection detail and at Tommen, so he chances a bantam step forward. As his eyes dart to his friend and the weapon, he voices, "Please think about what you're doing."
Incomes the layer of the Jaffa, pleading, "O'Neill, this is considerably unlike you. Please rate your subsequent activities with the highest regard that profiles you and the entire Tau'ri planet."
The colonel fiercely shakes his head, his growing hair swaying left and right against his neck. To Hell with that. "Teal'c, buddy, it saddens me that you'd presume you and I are vastly dissimilar since you came to reside on my planet. That shit you did under Apophis, it'll follow you to you and Junior's grave. You're just like me; we don't change."
Teal'c delivers a quarrelsome contortion, not favoring the route his friend has accepted as he speaks out of his ass and doesn't process his thoughts and opinions. He declares, "That is inaccurate, and you know it, O'Neill. If anyone has positively influenced my life, it is you. I do not wish to return to my old habits, nor should you. Collectively, we have mended from the blood and gore."
The colonel scoffs, casting a glance to his left. "Yeah, well, buddy, honestly, that's all you. You don't know much about me — either of you."
Daniel sighs while shaking his head and readjusting his glasses. This isn't the course he expected the conversation to go. If he's genuine to himself, he'd consent to the reality that there isn't much he knows about the colonel than what said man wants others to learn about him. He can recount the Top 5 Things to Know About Jack O'Neill alongside everyone else, but that's it. As he takes the opportunity to ponder it, it's kind-of disconcerting how little he knows about the colonel, a man he views to be one — if not his only — closest, dearest friend, mainly for how long they've known each other. Since they're two peas in a pod, he'd suspect that Teal'c knows more about Jack than he does, though to the exact extent of nothingness besides the standard. Overall, they've rallied in affiliation with a dangerous person.
"Don't be like that; don't do that," warns Daniel, shaking his head. He comprehends that his friend isn't in his moral selfhood and is demonstrating signs of a triggered downward spiral courtesy of something, which may be someone risking to fight him of all people. It's dissimilar from past occurrences, now much nastier, immoral, and malicious than he remembers.
This has to be a development of conditioning and repression from his Black Ops days, right? Or perhaps it stems from something else, maybe during childhood or anything comparable? Either way, there will be consequences on Earthside and through the 'gate. If three individuals — Boch, Thor, and now Isteno — all express the recited phrase surrounding the colonel off-world, what may the communication procedure be for such to occur? Earlier, Isteno recalled that she knew of Jack because of his fanned name and offense throughout the Galaxy, which is that he's the slayer of Ra and Hathor. If this were on Earthside, his "mugshot" and credentials would be displayed on flyers and websites abroad, and people would know who he is and want to perform as an amateur PI, bounty hunter, or an actual ashrak to receive the reward payment.
Throughout the Galaxy (and presumably on Earthside, as well, in a manner), what is the reward for Wanted Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill? Is he to just get got, and all is well? And, with someone like him, just what does that — the operation and outcome — ensue? Would it be beneficial for him to be on Earthside or off-world? Should he be at his Springs home or the Mountain Complex? There's so much to stir with this. Nonetheless, this is a reminder that Colonel O'Neill is lethal, sometimes even malignant. Do what you will with that information.
Tommen's arrogance has since ceased, and he's currently trembling and excreting sweat pools. A barrel of a weapon from his mastria is aimed at the middle of his forehead, in the hands of a person who is three things he loathes: a hydris, a xastralion, and a zilro. When the axmin requested the presence of the staron and rith, the last to rise was oblivious to what was transpiring. The Cyrian Mastria is a harmonious society with techniques of genteel garments and other fashion accessories, so their chappa'ai is unrestricted for all sightseers and visitors. The alarm tolls a specific tone, and a particular visual will display on the transparent screen on the sleeve of high-authoritarian Cyrian people, which is within the management realm of the axmin, thereupon Isteno being the lone receiver.
"Not too much to say now, huh?" berates the colonel. "Too bad your little act didn't go as planned, with you nearly attacking or prohibiting me from F6Q."
The rith emits an unsettling chuckle, his eyes round and glimmering with unshed tears. His hands aggressively shake from their surrendering pose in the air, almost shading blue, as if he's frigid. "Th-that wasn't my intention, Jack O'Neill. I sincerely apologize. Surely, we can work our way around this."
Yeah, uh, Jack doesn't believe an ounce of the bullshit delivered from Tommen's mouth. He's squeezing his eyes shut again, attempting to combat his cognitive discomfort. Fight it.
Because he can, the colonel lowers the potent weapon and invades Tommen's personal space to front him face-to-face, man-to-man. Consequently, the personal detail edges forward, and somewhere in the background, Teal'c and Daniel defensively risk hauling them off, presumably desiring to obtain their semi-automatics and zat guns. The assisting concept of follow orders, no questions from brass ruling doesn't go overlooked, something that's comparable to Tau'ri culture.
"Don't lie to me! That's precisely what you intended when we met not too long ago: You automatically assumed you knew me and led with that, so you tried to attack me. You've fumbled our potential allyship because you're too fucking far up your ass. And — ah, fuck!" Jack groans as he presses his knuckle to his temple, nudging powerfully into his skin and muscles. He's disheveled, his skin flushed and sweaty, similar to his encounter with the sphere organism that strung him to the wall in the embarkation room. His head isn't hurting, per se; it's an all-too-familiar aggressive temperament propelling to escape and override his being. Too bad Joe and his family aren't doing too well, either, or he'd isolate himself, close his eyes, and observe the positive life encompassing the gentleman.
Cutado, the idelol — second-in-command — of the protection detail, intervenes, commenting, "Jack O'Neill of the Tau'ri, it is apparent that you are not in a fitting perspective. It may be best for you to exit the premises."
Disprovingly, if it's even doable to layer on already-present dissatisfaction, Teal'c declares, "That is most unhelpful, Cutado." The SG-1 archeologist nods and hastily presses his index finger to his lips. They don't know too much about what's transpiring with their leader, but they do know some of the nuances he likes and dislikes.
"No. Why am I being condemned for something that I didn't do? He," the colonel lazily raises the weapon and uses the barrel to point at the rith with his finger on the trigger, "tried to attack me, not the other way around. And — actually, you know what? Where's Isteno? Where's Sam?"
"Captain Carter is with Axmin-Isteno," replies Teal'c in that manner, and, oh, he has to be doing this on purpose. Reacting, his friend produces an irked expression his way, and he inwardly grins because it's a cue that his friend is still in there somewhere. The man likely doesn't realize that he's using his second-in-command's first name and not her last name or rank, as he usually does when they're off-world and in a professional environment.
Perhaps the Jaffa has been on Earth long enough to grasp its culture because what happened was flawlessly executed.
Daniel's curiosity abruptly heightens as he peers to where Cyria's staron last stood and questions, "Q'uobik, where are Sam and Isteno?"
What an unconventional time to converse.
With so much arising simultaneously, whether the staron remained in the main room was unknown. Daniel chanced his luck to see if the man was present or not. The function of a staron is demanding, so the reign is split into two additional tiers, the axmin and the rith, each with its responsibilities. Perhaps it's like the Monarchy of the United Kingdom on the Tau'ri planet. Q'uobik governs Cyria and its necessities; Isteno handles the chappa'ai and garments; and, lastly, Tommen maintains the weaponry and protection detail that relates to the axmin's oversight of the 'gate on their planet and the occasional roughhousers. It's imprecise, and there's more to it, of course, but it's noticeable that the staron doesn't have liability over criminal misconduct. As a result, his turmoil with the situation is justifiable.
The staron emerges from his frightened trance to answer the question, "Axmin-Isteno and Captain Samantha Carter of the Tau'ri planet moved to the kilen as our axmin wanted to offer something to our hydris of the new planet and Race. Unfortunately, with the protection detail in operation, they cannot exit until the order is concluded."
The colonel's eyes land on Tommen, Svelam, and Cutado.
Ah, man, what the hell.
