The Realist (1/1)
The Realist
Older Kids
Genre: Gen, Drama
Warnings: None
Synopsis: After Langara falls to the Ori, Jonas is dragged into an exercise in futility.
Notes: Written for Prompt #24 of the 2011 sg1friendathon.
The Realist
"The realist is the man who, having weighed all the visible factors in a given situation and having found that the odds are against him, decides that fighting is useless."
-Raoul De Sales, The Making of Tomorrow
It was a bad plan from the start, but he'd been unable to convince the other members of the Resistance. Trouble was, Jonas knew he wasn't trusted by his fellow Kelownans after his brief defection to Earth-despite several grand gestures from the Kelownan government suggesting otherwise-and his experiences on SG-1 were valued only for the combat training he'd received.
Combat training... as though everything else he'd learned or accomplished while helping the Tau'ri save the galaxy was worthless.
Despite his attempts to relate the story of his team's near-fatal encounter with Wodan, Egar, and the rest of Nirrti's test subjects on P3X-367, the Resistance leaders felt confident that they could catch a Prior by surprise. They even twisted Jonas' own accounts of Goa'uld technology to claim that the Prior's staff was the source of their powers, and that if they could take that away, the Prior could be safely detained and interrogated.
Jonas was certain it was a suicide mission, and not even the fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants type SG-1 was noted for pulling off with panache. He had been in the control room of the Stargate bunker when the first Prior came through, and watched as the ghoulish-looking super-human looked around the room at the armed guards pointing their weapons at him and spoke but a single, contemptuous word.
"Hubris."
If ever there was a word to describe the people of Langara, that was it. Each of the three major nations-and several of the minor ones-had it "in spades", as the Tau'ri would say. It had brought their world to the brink of the destruction time and time again, and some of the more-recent near-disasters had been averted only through the intervention of the Tau'ri. They hadn't had a chance to contact the Tau'ri since soldiers of the Ori seized control of the Stargate bunker, so there'd be no rescue this time.
In a way, Jonas was glad the Tau'ri weren't here this time. The Ori plague unleashed on the planet's population had been devastating, and only the capitulation of the surviving leaders of the three powers had halted the disease-reversed it, in fact, bringing many of the dead back to life. Jonas knew the Tau'ri were capable of some amazing things-hell, one of SG-1 had existed in a god-like state during Jonas' time among them-but stopping the Priors or their armies? It was madness... hubris.
There were always at least three Priors on-planet at all times, and a fourth which arrived at regular intervals to check on the security of the bunker and walk among the cowed population of Kelowna's capital city, Achera. After leading the converted in Prostration, the Prior would then depart. It was an intimidation tactic, and a very effective one, at that.
However, the predictability of a Prior's arrival was what the Resistance leaders were counting on in this mad scheme of theirs. Nothing Jonas could say would dissuade them, yet his honor demanded he not back down. The old Jonas Quinn-the one who had never set foot on other worlds-might have had his cowardly moments, but that all changed the day he watched a brave man sacrifice his life to save millions of strangers. Jonas had committed himself to the cause of the Resistance, and he would see their purpose served or die trying.
The "die trying" outcome was looking increasingly likely.
The ambush was placed on a street not far from the guarded bunker. If they were to succeed in this madness, they would have to move quickly to escape before the commander of the bunker sent anyone to investigate the commotion. Jonas gave the plan points for its simplicity, but he was certain the intelligence-or lack thereof-behind it was fundamentally flawed.
It started well enough. The gray-and-brown-clad Prior arrived right on schedule and began his walk from the bunker to Victory Square, which had held the statues of Kelowna's honored historical figures until the soldiers of Origin blasted them apart. As the Prior entered the ambush zone, Renan walked forward with his head down, as though not watching where he was going. The instant he drew alongside the Prior, Renan threw out the small lariat he held, shouting in triumph as the loop settled over the head of the Prior's staff. On that cue, Lina activated a powered winch. The noose jerked tight, the rest of the line went taut, and the staff flew out of the Prior's hand toward the winch mechanism. Aron signaled the next phase, and several more freedom-fighters charged into the street.
That was where it all went wrong. The men rushing toward the Prior were abruptly knocked over backward, as though they had run into an invisible wall. Renan attempted to grapple with the Prior, but the Prior merely extended his left arm and sent the rebel crashing into a nearby rubbish heap. Lina and Aron were telekinetically lifted into the air and banged into one another in a manner reminiscent of Tau'ri comedy films. Jonas and the other two snipers had their rifles yanked out of their hands, then all three men were hoisted into the air by the collars of their clothes, as though they were pups being carried by the scruffs of their necks.
In all this, the Prior hadn't spoken a word. As Jonas was involuntarily drawn closer, he saw a smirk form on the Prior's face, and waited for the death sentence to be uttered.
Instead, it was Jonas who spoke. Blood draining away from his face in horror, he croaked out a curse he'd learned from the Tau'ri: "Oh, shit."
Unless he had a twin or a clone unaccounted for by the SGC, the Prior who'd handily defeated the ambush was none other than Doctor Daniel Jackson.
Jonas' pulse pounded in his ears, and he was certain he was about to pass out. Just as his vision started to gray, the Prior-Daniel-released his hold, and Jonas plummeted to the ground. Distantly, he heard muffled thumps and groans which signaled Garus and Aremias had also been dropped.
Coughing involuntarily as his throat began to spasm, Jonas' mind whirled. He hadn't worked with Doctor Jackson much during his time with the Tau'ri, but the recently-Ascended archaeologist had left behind a legendary reputation for honesty, courage, and stubbornness in the face of-and beyond-certain death. Jonas' own brief encounters with him before, during, and after Ascension had only corroborated the legends as fact.
If the Tau'ri had fallen to the Ori, what hope did the rest of the galaxy have? If even Daniel Jackson had been converted to Origin, then how could anyone resist? And with the full force of the scientist's charisma turned to proselytizing, many more would bow to the Ori.
"Uriel went to the market to speak Origin to the unbelievers, and when he returned home that night, he was set upon by bandits," the Prior spoke, and the familiar voice dispelled the last hope Jonas had held that this was not the man he had known and admired. "Uriel cried out to the Ori to protect him, and his prayers were answered. There was a plume of holy fire, and from it stepped forth a Prior of the Ori."
Groaning, Jonas sat up and glanced around at the other members of the Resistance. They were all just beginning to regain their senses as well, faces frozen into masks of fear and disbelief.
"The Prior stretched forth his hand, and smote the unbelievers. Each time the wicked men attempted to rise, they were cast down again, until no more did they seek to stand up against the might of the Ori's servant. Uriel then asked the Prior why he did not simply kill the unbelievers, and the Prior spoke thusly, 'So that the wicked may return to their families and tell them of the power and mercy of the Ori.'"
The Prior-Jonas refused to think of him as Daniel any longer-had laid it on a bit thick with the metaphor, but Jonas got the point: intimidation. Kill a man and his friends and family would live on to carry out the fight. Humble a man and he would lose his will to fight again, or to encourage others to fight in his stead.
"'And what if they return home to gather more men to attack?' asked Uriel, for though he preached the word of the Ori, he was but Man, and full of doubt." The Prior stretched out his hand, and his staff returned swiftly to his grasp. He then turned toward Jonas, and the familiar face with those blind-looking eyes chilled the Kelownan to the bone.
"'Then shall my brethren return to your aid,' the Ori said, 'for none who do the works of the just shall be abandoned.'" The alien gaze turned away, and the Prior continued on his route as though uninterrupted.
The Resistance members slowly picked themselves up as the crowd of onlookers finally began to murmur their astonishment and fear. Jonas continued to sit where he'd fallen, staring at the corner around which the Prior had disappeared. Fear and anger should have been churning his insides, but instead he felt relieved. Grateful to be alive, perhaps?
"Blessed dreams, I thought he was going to kill us all!" Aremias swore softly.
"So did I," Lina added, her voice shaking. "Gods help me, so did I."
Aron came to Jonas' side and held out a hand to help him to his feet. "You were right, Jonas... you were right. We can't win. He didn't even need his staff to level us all." The other man's face was pale, save where it was reddened from his collision with Lina.
Jonas turned around slowly, taking in the horrified expressions on the faces of his countrymen. Like the men in the Prior's story, they had been beaten and cowed. They were wounded and scared, having given their best effort and had it so easily countered by a single Prior-a Prior who inhabited the shell of a man who'd once sacrificed his life to save this planet. In the cruelest of ironies, here he was yet again, this time sealing Langara's doom.
"Gods, that story... straight out of the Book of Origin, except for the last part," shuddered Renan, clinging weakly to Targin, who'd helped him to stand. "Like it was tailor-fashioned, just for us."
Jonas' skin prickled. "What do you mean?"
"The story of 'Uriel and the Unbelievers'," Renan answered, "the story he told us after he'd laid us all out. You know how my memory is for books, and the Prior's was just as good, word-for-word, straight from the book. The only thing he changed was the ending: the Prior lectured Uriel on his lack of faith. He didn't promise that more of his people would come to help, and he didn't promise Uriel he wouldn't be left behind."
Relief washed through Jonas so suddenly, his knees nearly buckled. Nodding his gratitude to Garus and Aron for helping him to stay on his feet, Jonas grinned at the other Resistance members. "Not tailor-fashioned for us... for me. That Prior was Daniel Jackson."
Lina gasped, as did a few others who recognized the name. "The man who... Ascended?" Lina began, letting her fingers flutter in the air for emphasis.
"And came back," Aron agreed bitterly, "for all the good that did: look what they did to him. I'm sorry, Jonas, but that's not your friend anymore."
Jonas shook his head. "That's still Daniel Jackson, and that message proves it. 'We don't leave our people behind' was SG-1's unofficial motto." His gaze returned to the place where he'd last seen the Prior-Daniel. "Somehow, despite whatever it was they did to him, Daniel's still in there. He was letting me know that the Tau'ri are still in this fight, and that we won't be forgotten."
He turned back to his fellow rebels, not at all surprised to see disbelief now warring with the still-lingering fear on their faces. "The first Prior that came here spoke of our people's hubris, our arrogance, our self-centeredness. Hubris isn't going to win this. If anyone can defeat these Ori, it's the people of Earth-the Tau'ri."
Looking back to where Daniel had vanished, he smiled. "Our job now is to lie low, exercising only passive resistance. It's the only way we'll all still be here when SG-1 does the impossible again." He grinned, feeling pride at having once been a member of that famous team. "It's what they do."