bungakertas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bungakertas) wrote2021-02-22 08:27 pm
bungakertas) wrote2021-02-22 08:27 pm
Entry tags:
- anise,
- borg,
- carson beckett,
- chakotay,
- daniel jackson,
- freya,
- george hammond,
- harry kim,
- jack o'neill,
- jacob carter,
- kathryn janeway,
- malek,
- prometheus,
- replicators,
- sallash,
- samantha carter,
- selmak,
- seven of nine,
- sg-1,
- star trek,
- stargate,
- story: futility,
- teal'c,
- the holo doctor,
- tom paris,
- tuvok,
- voyager,
- zipacna
An Exercise In Futility: Chapter Eleven
It had taken Teal’c a long time to adjust to tau’ri culture. Longer than he had allowed the tau’ri to believe. And one such instance that he had taken a great deal of time to recognize for what it was was the frequency with which he would be asked to take charge of goa’uld prisoners. He had initially believed it to be a cautionary reminder of just who it was he had served for so many years. Until O’Neill had absently remarked that “I know you always like seeing those snakes go down.” When Teal’c had pursued the question with Daniel Jackson, Daniel had assured him that asking him to oversee such prisoners was partly down to the fact that he was likely the only member of SG-1 who could physically overpower a goa’uld if it became necessary, he was the only member of SG-1 who could not be taken for a host, and they all thought it might give him some pleasure to see his former tormentors taken down a peg.
In this, they were correct. It did give him pleasure.
He was happier, though, when he did not have to take charge of the goa’uld alone. The tau’ri had become his allies in all things, and his victories were their victories.
He, O’Neill, and Daniel Jackson had all gone together to retrieve Zipacna from his cell in the brig.
O’Neill swiped his badge to open the door while Daniel stood on the far side of the hallway with a readied zat’ni’katel to stun their prisoner if necessary.
“Come forth, false god, for the day of your reckoning is upon you,” Teal’c ordered in a ringing voice.
Zipacna had the audacity to laugh. “I think I’ll remain, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You can come out on your own, or we can stun you and drag you out,” Daniel informed him. “Pick your poison.”
Zipacna slowly, and with dragging feet, emerged from the cell. “An apt phrase. Do you know how the tok’ra murder the goa’uld?”
“I’m familiar with the extraction procedures,” Daniel replied. “Considering my wife was never fortunate enough to undergo one, whether it hurts the goould isn’t something that bothers me much.”
Teal’c leveled his ma’tok at Zipacna. “Turn and face away from the door.”
Zipacna did, reluctantly, and O’Neill put a set of zip cuffs on his hands.
“You are much quieter than usual, Colonel O’Neill,” Zipacna observed.
“I don’t waste my truly excellent sarcasm on beaten losers,” O’Neill informed him. “Let’s go.”
The three escorted Zipacna to the ring room, and out to the underside of the ship. When they reached the outside, Selmak and Malek—now free of his technological infection from the Borg.
“Tok’ra,” Teal’ announced, “we deliver to you this false god that you may visit justice upon him.”
“Jaffa. Teal’c,” Selmak replied, the echoing voice confirming that it was Selmak and not the father of Samantha who spoke. And it would be uncomfortable how similar he sounded to the goa’uld but for the respectful bow of his head. “Thank you for delivering this criminal to us.”
Teal’c heard O’Neill mumble to Daniel. “Awfully formal all of a sudden.”
“Everything from now until the end of the extraction is part of the ceremony,” Daniel whispered back. “I will buy you a steak if you try to be a little serious.”
Teal’c smothered a smile.
They followed the two tok’ra to the stargate, several of the officers from the SGC and Voyager came with them. And since Samantha and Seven-of-Nine were still studying the Ancient device to determine how to return Voyager to their proper place, they had plenty of time to witness the extraction ceremony.
A good portion of Voyager’s crew had expressed revulsion at the idea of intentionally executing any sentient life-form. A few had even gone so far as to call it “barbaric.” But, much to Teal’c’s surprise, a sizable portion of that crew—including the first officer—were apparently quite sanguine about witnessing an execution and a few had asked to come and witness the ceremony. DanielJackson had requested an explanation from a man named OscarAyala on the way to the extraction chamber and the resultant conversation carried them all the way to the beginning of the trial. It involved a deeply questionable treaty that Ayala’s political body had signed with a race of beings called “Cardassians,” military occupation of multiple worlds, and something called “Maquis” that had made Daniel’s eyes widen and his interest rise and would no doubt result in Daniel spending many long nights in his office at the expense of maintaining his physical fitness to the extent that Teal’c preferred. DanielJackson had progressed a long way on this matter from when SG-1 had begun, but he had a fundamental tendency to default to cerebral pursuits over physical ones.
It was a long-standing tension between them. The fond bickering of brothers, and comforting in its familiarity.
Regardless of their relative ease at accepting that the extraction did end in a death, the Starfleet officers who joined them did seem somewhat reassured to know that the accused was permitted to speak and if they chose to mount a defense, the tok’ra would permit them to do so. Even to the point of postponing to examine evidence or question witnesses, if need be.
This did not happen in Zipacna’s case. He was defiant to the last, and his extraction was quick.
It was a strange thing to gaze on his former host. Yet, Teal’c found he felt little for the man but a vague sense of pity. And he felt less pity for this man than he did most former hosts. The crew from Voyager had analyzed how the goa’uld was keeping him from aging and their Doctor had devised a treatment. It would not prolong the man’s life forever, of course. But it would prevent him from experiencing the rapid aging that many former hosts suffered when their tormentors were cast out.
With the ceremony over, Teal’c left. The tok’ra had provided some refreshments, but extraction ceremonies were generally considered somber events among them and guests were encouraged to disperse quietly and respectfully when they had finished. So he elected to return to the chappa’ai and await the rest of SG-1 there.
“Mr. Teal’c!” a voice called behind him.
He turned to see Chakotay approaching him.
“‘Teal’c’ will suffice. I possess neither title nor rank,” Teal’c said to the man.
Chakotay nodded. “My apologies. I would like to ask a question, if it doesn’t trouble you.”
Teal’c blinked. “I am jaffa. Your inquiry pertains to this?”
The man nodded, and they began walking towards the chappa’ai. “You were the one Dr. Jackson meant when he said someone who’d left their people behind, weren’t you? And your mark is different from most other jaffa. A mark of rank?”
“I was known as ‘First Prime.’ I served the System Lord who called himself Apophis. I was his right hand. I carried out his will and commanded all his jaffa. Even some of the lesser goa’uld answered to me,” Teal’c said. This admission was, of course, to declare himself a criminal of the worst sort, but many tau’ri seemed not to realize this.
“That must’ve come with a lot of power and luxury,” Chakotay said.
“A great deal.”
“Why give it up?”
Teal’c thought about his reply for a long moment. He had done terrible things for Apophis. He had killed, he had made slaves, he had delivered up innocents to torture and death and other things that he could not think long about. He had never done these things himself, of course, and he told himself he could’ve done nothing to stop them. And that was even true, to an extent. Bra’tac’s insistence that resistance be built gradually was—from the inside—the best strategy.
But that did not negate his participation. These things were reasons. Not excuses. It began to seem more and more likely that his crimes would never be punished in this lifetime. But lack of punishment was a different matter from lack of guilt.
He looked to Chakotay. “Because I could no longer bear to be a party to Apophis’ evil. O’Neill offered me a chance to leave. And I took it in hopes that I could fight against my former master. I was able to do so. And we defeated him.”
Chakotay’s mouth quirked up. “That must’ve been quite an accomplishment. I’m afraid my own rebellion ended much less successfully.”
“I did not hear the full accounting told to DanielJackson. Would you explain this rebellion to me?”
So Chakotay did. And when he finished, Teal’c understood much better. “You came to see Zipacna’s fate because you have no hopes of justice coming for the Cardassians.”
Chakotay cocked his head to the side. “I’d like to think I’m not that bloodthirsty. But I did want to…understand. That…even if it were possible to make them face up to what they’d done, would it be worth it? Would it be satisfying?”
Teal’c nodded. “It would not.”
“No. It wouldn’t. There’s a balance to it. Justice isn't about my personal satisfaction. But it doesn’t fix anything. Not really.”
They lapsed into quiet, until they reached the chappa’ai. They were shortly joined by others there and did not have a chance to speak on the matter further. Samantha contacted them by radio that they would have the satellite calibrated to return Voyager to their reality in about two hours. Apparently Malek had recovered sufficiently to report that the original Borg probe had been entirely cannibalized by the Super-Collective, and all that was left of it was the ha’tak.
So that was the end. Even their offer to allow Voyager’s engineer to study the hyperdrive in hopes of adapting some of the principles to shorten their journey had already been accepted and fulfilled.
Teal’c found himself standing in a hallway with a long window beside DanielJackson as the ha’tak was raised from the planet beneath them by tractor beam. It had been cleared of all living jaffa, who had been treated and evacuated elsewhere. The bodies of the dead had been laid in the bunks. And the weapons of both Voyager and Prometheus fired the ha’tak from space.
Teal’c turned to Daniel. “You will be recording the account of the Maquis as told to you by Mister Ayala?”
Daniel blinked. “Well, yes. It’s a fascinating glimpse into political tensions in an alternate reality. Maybe it’s only a curiosity, but…I’m curious.”
“Commander Chakotay recounted his story to me, and I would like to record it as well,” Teal’c said.
Daniel’s eyebrows went up. “You would?”
“Indeed.”
“Ah…great. How about after we finish the debrief? While it’s still fresh?”
Teal’c nodded.
“That’s good.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“When we complete this task, it will ensure you have some time available to train in the gym,” Teal’c said.
“You would use this as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” Daniel muttered.
“Indeed, I would.”
“Fine. I’ll let you run me around for a while.”
“That will be most welcome.”
They were at the wrong vantage point to see the satellite in operation, but they both saw the moment when Voyager disappeared.
Daniel sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s that.”
“Do you not intend to complete your study of the device?”
“It’s completed. We had to in order to send Voyager back. I left all the translations with Sam before we took Zipacna to the tok’ra,” Daniel said with a shrug, looking disappointed. “So much for the purely archaeological mission.”
Teal’c frowned. He had never truly mastered how to cheer Daniel up when he was faced with academic disappointment. So he simply laid his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and gave him a few awkward pats.
Daniel looked at him in surprise and then burst out laughing. “Thanks, Teal’c.”
“I will attempt to convince O’Neill to select the most archaeological of missions for our upcoming assignments.”
Daniel, still wearing a grin, shook his head. “I’ve got a few upcoming digs with the archaeology department to follow up on some old ruins. You and Jack don’t have to bore yourself for me just yet.”
Teal’c nodded pleasantly.
“I appreciate the offer, all the same.”
They lapsed into quiet for a moment until Daniel said, “Hungry?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, we’ve got lots of MREs,” Daniel replied with a grin as he stood up.
Teal’c groaned internally, but stood as well. They had defeated yet another System Lord. They had learned new secrets of the builders of the chappa’ai. They had destroyed a serious threat to peace in the galaxy. Not even MREs could ruin his good mood today.
Probably.
THE END
In this, they were correct. It did give him pleasure.
He was happier, though, when he did not have to take charge of the goa’uld alone. The tau’ri had become his allies in all things, and his victories were their victories.
He, O’Neill, and Daniel Jackson had all gone together to retrieve Zipacna from his cell in the brig.
O’Neill swiped his badge to open the door while Daniel stood on the far side of the hallway with a readied zat’ni’katel to stun their prisoner if necessary.
“Come forth, false god, for the day of your reckoning is upon you,” Teal’c ordered in a ringing voice.
Zipacna had the audacity to laugh. “I think I’ll remain, if it’s all the same to you.”
“You can come out on your own, or we can stun you and drag you out,” Daniel informed him. “Pick your poison.”
Zipacna slowly, and with dragging feet, emerged from the cell. “An apt phrase. Do you know how the tok’ra murder the goa’uld?”
“I’m familiar with the extraction procedures,” Daniel replied. “Considering my wife was never fortunate enough to undergo one, whether it hurts the goould isn’t something that bothers me much.”
Teal’c leveled his ma’tok at Zipacna. “Turn and face away from the door.”
Zipacna did, reluctantly, and O’Neill put a set of zip cuffs on his hands.
“You are much quieter than usual, Colonel O’Neill,” Zipacna observed.
“I don’t waste my truly excellent sarcasm on beaten losers,” O’Neill informed him. “Let’s go.”
The three escorted Zipacna to the ring room, and out to the underside of the ship. When they reached the outside, Selmak and Malek—now free of his technological infection from the Borg.
“Tok’ra,” Teal’ announced, “we deliver to you this false god that you may visit justice upon him.”
“Jaffa. Teal’c,” Selmak replied, the echoing voice confirming that it was Selmak and not the father of Samantha who spoke. And it would be uncomfortable how similar he sounded to the goa’uld but for the respectful bow of his head. “Thank you for delivering this criminal to us.”
Teal’c heard O’Neill mumble to Daniel. “Awfully formal all of a sudden.”
“Everything from now until the end of the extraction is part of the ceremony,” Daniel whispered back. “I will buy you a steak if you try to be a little serious.”
Teal’c smothered a smile.
They followed the two tok’ra to the stargate, several of the officers from the SGC and Voyager came with them. And since Samantha and Seven-of-Nine were still studying the Ancient device to determine how to return Voyager to their proper place, they had plenty of time to witness the extraction ceremony.
A good portion of Voyager’s crew had expressed revulsion at the idea of intentionally executing any sentient life-form. A few had even gone so far as to call it “barbaric.” But, much to Teal’c’s surprise, a sizable portion of that crew—including the first officer—were apparently quite sanguine about witnessing an execution and a few had asked to come and witness the ceremony. DanielJackson had requested an explanation from a man named OscarAyala on the way to the extraction chamber and the resultant conversation carried them all the way to the beginning of the trial. It involved a deeply questionable treaty that Ayala’s political body had signed with a race of beings called “Cardassians,” military occupation of multiple worlds, and something called “Maquis” that had made Daniel’s eyes widen and his interest rise and would no doubt result in Daniel spending many long nights in his office at the expense of maintaining his physical fitness to the extent that Teal’c preferred. DanielJackson had progressed a long way on this matter from when SG-1 had begun, but he had a fundamental tendency to default to cerebral pursuits over physical ones.
It was a long-standing tension between them. The fond bickering of brothers, and comforting in its familiarity.
Regardless of their relative ease at accepting that the extraction did end in a death, the Starfleet officers who joined them did seem somewhat reassured to know that the accused was permitted to speak and if they chose to mount a defense, the tok’ra would permit them to do so. Even to the point of postponing to examine evidence or question witnesses, if need be.
This did not happen in Zipacna’s case. He was defiant to the last, and his extraction was quick.
It was a strange thing to gaze on his former host. Yet, Teal’c found he felt little for the man but a vague sense of pity. And he felt less pity for this man than he did most former hosts. The crew from Voyager had analyzed how the goa’uld was keeping him from aging and their Doctor had devised a treatment. It would not prolong the man’s life forever, of course. But it would prevent him from experiencing the rapid aging that many former hosts suffered when their tormentors were cast out.
With the ceremony over, Teal’c left. The tok’ra had provided some refreshments, but extraction ceremonies were generally considered somber events among them and guests were encouraged to disperse quietly and respectfully when they had finished. So he elected to return to the chappa’ai and await the rest of SG-1 there.
“Mr. Teal’c!” a voice called behind him.
He turned to see Chakotay approaching him.
“‘Teal’c’ will suffice. I possess neither title nor rank,” Teal’c said to the man.
Chakotay nodded. “My apologies. I would like to ask a question, if it doesn’t trouble you.”
Teal’c blinked. “I am jaffa. Your inquiry pertains to this?”
The man nodded, and they began walking towards the chappa’ai. “You were the one Dr. Jackson meant when he said someone who’d left their people behind, weren’t you? And your mark is different from most other jaffa. A mark of rank?”
“I was known as ‘First Prime.’ I served the System Lord who called himself Apophis. I was his right hand. I carried out his will and commanded all his jaffa. Even some of the lesser goa’uld answered to me,” Teal’c said. This admission was, of course, to declare himself a criminal of the worst sort, but many tau’ri seemed not to realize this.
“That must’ve come with a lot of power and luxury,” Chakotay said.
“A great deal.”
“Why give it up?”
Teal’c thought about his reply for a long moment. He had done terrible things for Apophis. He had killed, he had made slaves, he had delivered up innocents to torture and death and other things that he could not think long about. He had never done these things himself, of course, and he told himself he could’ve done nothing to stop them. And that was even true, to an extent. Bra’tac’s insistence that resistance be built gradually was—from the inside—the best strategy.
But that did not negate his participation. These things were reasons. Not excuses. It began to seem more and more likely that his crimes would never be punished in this lifetime. But lack of punishment was a different matter from lack of guilt.
He looked to Chakotay. “Because I could no longer bear to be a party to Apophis’ evil. O’Neill offered me a chance to leave. And I took it in hopes that I could fight against my former master. I was able to do so. And we defeated him.”
Chakotay’s mouth quirked up. “That must’ve been quite an accomplishment. I’m afraid my own rebellion ended much less successfully.”
“I did not hear the full accounting told to DanielJackson. Would you explain this rebellion to me?”
So Chakotay did. And when he finished, Teal’c understood much better. “You came to see Zipacna’s fate because you have no hopes of justice coming for the Cardassians.”
Chakotay cocked his head to the side. “I’d like to think I’m not that bloodthirsty. But I did want to…understand. That…even if it were possible to make them face up to what they’d done, would it be worth it? Would it be satisfying?”
Teal’c nodded. “It would not.”
“No. It wouldn’t. There’s a balance to it. Justice isn't about my personal satisfaction. But it doesn’t fix anything. Not really.”
They lapsed into quiet, until they reached the chappa’ai. They were shortly joined by others there and did not have a chance to speak on the matter further. Samantha contacted them by radio that they would have the satellite calibrated to return Voyager to their reality in about two hours. Apparently Malek had recovered sufficiently to report that the original Borg probe had been entirely cannibalized by the Super-Collective, and all that was left of it was the ha’tak.
So that was the end. Even their offer to allow Voyager’s engineer to study the hyperdrive in hopes of adapting some of the principles to shorten their journey had already been accepted and fulfilled.
Teal’c found himself standing in a hallway with a long window beside DanielJackson as the ha’tak was raised from the planet beneath them by tractor beam. It had been cleared of all living jaffa, who had been treated and evacuated elsewhere. The bodies of the dead had been laid in the bunks. And the weapons of both Voyager and Prometheus fired the ha’tak from space.
Teal’c turned to Daniel. “You will be recording the account of the Maquis as told to you by Mister Ayala?”
Daniel blinked. “Well, yes. It’s a fascinating glimpse into political tensions in an alternate reality. Maybe it’s only a curiosity, but…I’m curious.”
“Commander Chakotay recounted his story to me, and I would like to record it as well,” Teal’c said.
Daniel’s eyebrows went up. “You would?”
“Indeed.”
“Ah…great. How about after we finish the debrief? While it’s still fresh?”
Teal’c nodded.
“That’s good.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“When we complete this task, it will ensure you have some time available to train in the gym,” Teal’c said.
“You would use this as an excuse, wouldn’t you?” Daniel muttered.
“Indeed, I would.”
“Fine. I’ll let you run me around for a while.”
“That will be most welcome.”
They were at the wrong vantage point to see the satellite in operation, but they both saw the moment when Voyager disappeared.
Daniel sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s that.”
“Do you not intend to complete your study of the device?”
“It’s completed. We had to in order to send Voyager back. I left all the translations with Sam before we took Zipacna to the tok’ra,” Daniel said with a shrug, looking disappointed. “So much for the purely archaeological mission.”
Teal’c frowned. He had never truly mastered how to cheer Daniel up when he was faced with academic disappointment. So he simply laid his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and gave him a few awkward pats.
Daniel looked at him in surprise and then burst out laughing. “Thanks, Teal’c.”
“I will attempt to convince O’Neill to select the most archaeological of missions for our upcoming assignments.”
Daniel, still wearing a grin, shook his head. “I’ve got a few upcoming digs with the archaeology department to follow up on some old ruins. You and Jack don’t have to bore yourself for me just yet.”
Teal’c nodded pleasantly.
“I appreciate the offer, all the same.”
They lapsed into quiet for a moment until Daniel said, “Hungry?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, we’ve got lots of MREs,” Daniel replied with a grin as he stood up.
Teal’c groaned internally, but stood as well. They had defeated yet another System Lord. They had learned new secrets of the builders of the chappa’ai. They had destroyed a serious threat to peace in the galaxy. Not even MREs could ruin his good mood today.
Probably.
- Voyager Discovers an Alien Satellite and Accidentally Finds Out What It Does
- The Tok’ra Ask to Borrow Prometheus for a Scientific Field Trip
- Many Meetings are Met and Many Questions are Partially Answered
- A Vessel Has Been Detected. Prepare for Assimilation
- How Dr. Daniel Jackson, the Peaceful Explorer, Had an Excellent Day Indeed
- Infinite Diversity In Infinite Combinations: Observations On Interaction With Humans
- The Battle For Voyager’s Main Engineering
- Attack With The Army You Have, But Give That Army All The Guns And Ammo They Can Carry
- Traps And Resistance
- Sometimes A Pilot’s Job Is Counterintuitive
- All Days Are Good Days To Witness The Death Of A False God