stringertheory | The Tactical Advantage of Insulting One's Enemies

Title: The Tactical Advantage of Insulting One's Enemies
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Jack O'Neill, Teal'c
Word Count: 1807
Categories: humor, friendship
Spoilers/Warnings: None. Set sometime during the early seasons, between two and four, to my mind. (Please note, this is unedited, as I am currently in the market for a beta (any takers?). Any and all errors - canon or grammatical - are my own fault, sadly.)
Summary: Written for one of the unfilled 2008 prompts at

sg1friendathon: "Jack and Teal'c - Teaching Jack how to curse in Goa'uld." Whoever asked for it, here it is!

Jack had always been a proponent of utilizing every weapon at his disposal in enemy combat. It wasn't just that he had seen victories obtained through the use of unusual or typically overlooked items—sometimes it was about what it did to the enemy to see his own weapons used against him.

And sometimes it was about how good it made Jack feel.

He knew from experience how important it could be to understand the enemy's language. Not only did it provide a tactical advantage—intercepting communiques, disseminating false reports, and covertly gathering intel—but it also bolstered morale to know what, exactly, was being said on the other side of the trench. Indecipherable murmurings were much more threatening than translated small talk. Besides which, it was always nice to be able to talk back to your enemies in a language they understood.

When he broached the topic, Jack wasn't surprised that Teal'c didn't understand at first. His explanation seemed sufficient, though, and while clearly bemused, Teal'c willingly obliged Jack's request.

“I do not understand what you hope to gain from this knowledge, O'Neill. It will not provide you with any advantage during our engagements with the enemy.”

“Ah, Teal'c,” Jack replied, slapping him on the back, “sometimes it's less about an advantage and more about... fun.”

Goa'uld was a good language for cursing: guttural and harsh, able to pack a big punch in a few words. Hurling insults was much more effective when you got maximum impact with minimal effort. Close-combat put-downs wasn't the easiest skill to acquire. Getting your meaning across during a firefight was usually difficult, after all, and you typically had a limited amount of time to do so. Using a language with such versatile words as Goa'uld definitely had its advantages.

The words fit awkwardly in his mouth, though, and Jack took delight in spitting them out like they had no right to be there. Teal'c was careful in correcting his pronunciation—sometimes the slightest change in inflection could change an obscenity to a proclamation of affection (one of the downfalls of a language that had multiple meanings for many words).

“Unless you wish to tell your enemy that you have pledged to him your undying devotion, I suggest that you place emphasis on the first syllable, not the second.”

“Wait wait wait.” Jack help up a hand. “You're telling me that a one syllable difference changes an insult about someone's mother to a pledge of romantic devotion?”

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. “If you were to substitute 'mal' for 'nok' in that phrase, it would become a request for an extra pair of armor.”

Jack stared at him. “Yours is a strange language, my friend.”

“Indeed.”

For the most part, though, the insults were easy enough to learn. A few of the more meaningful ones were like sentences, strings of hard sounds pushed from the back of the throat like a bad taste. Jack practiced them with relish, ignoring the grimy feeling speaking the language left in his mouth. He needed to be prepared. There was no way to know when the opportunity would arise for him to deploy his new weapon, and he wanted to be ready when it did.

Teal'c calmly explained the meanings of the words and phrases he patiently repeated for Jack, his tone steady despite the vicious nature of what he was saying. He even went so far as to include what he claimed were archaic terms rarely used among the younger Jaffa, assuring Jack that while the Jaffa themselves might not use them, they would most certainly understand them. In fact, the older terms would be considered even more insulting, as they were almost always utilized solely by older Jaffa criticizing or berating their subordinates. Jack smiled wickedly at that, and made sure to commit those older phrases to memory. There would be nothing like insulting a Jaffa some 20 or 30 years his senior using the kind of words his teacher might have shouted. Mental warfare came in all forms, from cutting off communications to taking you back to your days at boot camp, or whatever the Jaffa equivalent might be. Plus, it would be fun, no matter how much speaking Goa'uld made Jack want to rinse vigorously with mouthwash.

The bad aftertaste was worth it to see the expression on Daniel's face the first time he let loose.

They had been ambushed and captured outside a mining village on a small moon. A bit of fisticuffs later and they were dragged before Susano'o, the minor Goa'uld who ran the place. They were summarily forced their knees before him by Jaffa who seemed far too pleased with their own exploits. Jack just managed to contain an eye roll, though he definitely saw Carter succumb to the same out of the corner of his eye. After being forced to endure the requisite grandstanding from their gracious host—who found particular pleasure in attempting to goad Teal'c into a response—Jack had finally had enough. Susano'o bent close to Teal'c's face and spat out one of the particularly rude phrases Jack just happened to know, no doubt expecting to get a rise from the Jaffa. Instead, he got an earful of insults from Jack.

In the few seconds of silence that followed Jack's exclamation, he soaked up the scene. Daniel, who had been struggling against the Jaffa holding him, had gone still in his grasp, mouthing wordlessly as he stared at Jack in shock. Carter seemed torn between disapproval and amusement, while Teal'c looked inordinately pleased, despite having a chain around his neck and a Jaffa grinding a knee into his back. The Jaffa themselves shared looks of uncertainty and confusion, the ones not actively engaged in restraining the captives shuffling their feet and looking altogether embarrassed. Susano'o himself was livid, and Jack couldn't help but preen a bit at being able to so quickly turn a Goa'uld that particular shade of scarlet.

He quickly found himself strung up by his feet, his team thrown into the cell with him. As he swung slightly on his hook, Jack noticed an upside-down Carter glancing at him from where she worked on the cell door.

“Was it worth it, sir?” she asked with a small smile.

He glanced over at Teal'c, who was being helped out of his chains by Daniel.

“Yeah, it was.”

After that incident, it became routine on missions for Jack to insult someone—Jaffa or Goa'uld—at least once if he had the chance. He took vicious pleasure in being able to talk smack to his enemies in their own language, especially since they seemed to prefer using Goa'uld insults as well. He couldn't always tell the difference between the standard warnings and commands and the more personal curses—he was still learning, after all—but usually Teal'c's reaction gave him some insight into what was being said. And for every “shol'va” that was thrown Teal'c's way, Jack was able to give just as good back. Which seemed to be a good thing, since Teal'c was usually too self-controlled to do it himself.

Sometimes the big guy's control slipped, though.

For a change of pace, they hadn't been assaulted by the Jaffa forces they encountered on a planet. Instead, they had been quite amiably shuffled off to the local palace and there invited to an evening meal with the people's ruler, a Goa'uld named Aranyani. Since they had come to the planet in the hopes of collecting intel, Jack decided to forgo his usual plan of shoot first and ask questions later and instead see what Daniel might be able to glean from actual conversation with their hostess.

Of course, the entire thing had been a set-up for Aranyani to get information from them—doping the wine was a nice touch—and everything went FUBAR pretty quickly when it became clear that neither side would be very forthcoming. Thankfully, the team had actually abided by the “don't eat anything you didn't bring” rule for once and they were able to put up one hell of a fight. Aranyani, unlike most of her kind, seemed content to stick around during the fight and color the air blue while her Jaffa attempted to subdue her guests.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, as staff blasts flew overhead and Jack loaded a new clip into his gun, he heard a specific curse—spoken in the distinct dulcet tones of a Goa'uld—spat over the sound of the firefight. From its content, it had been mostly leveled toward Teal'c, but had no doubt been meant as a blanket statement for all of SG-1 as well. Without much thought, Jack threw back a response and was a little startled to hear another voice join his own. He glanced to his left, where Teal'c was huddled behind an overturned table. Teal'c also seemed surprised at the synced cursing, but understanding dawned quickly enough. He held Jack's gaze for a moment and nodded gravely. Jack returned the nod and they rose up in unison to lay a line of bullets and fire across the width of the room.

A few minutes later, as they surveyed the damage, Jack used his toe to poke at the Goa'uld's dead form. Teal'c joined him, his expression unreadable.

“I am relieved Daniel Jackson did not hear you earlier,” he said quietly. “I believe he would have understood enough of what you said to feel it necessary to lecture us both.”

“What we said earlier,” Jack corrected. “You shouted the same thing.”

“You are correct.” Teal'c nodded his head in acknowledgment of the point, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “However, I was answering a direct challenge. I am not sure what prompted your response.”

Jack shrugged. “I was answering a challenge, too.”

Teal'c raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“I'm pretty sure ol' Yanni—”

“Aranyani.”

“—Aranyani here called my friend's father the son of a pig, and I couldn't just let that slide, now could I?”

Teal'c gave the smallest hint of a smile. “No, O'Neill. You could not.”

Sometimes language skills were about tactical advantage, and sometimes they were about making sure your enemy could understand exactly how you felt about him. And sometimes, every once in a while, they were about being able to better communicate with your allies. There was a specific kind of pleasure in seeing the faces of your enemies when you insulted them in their own language, but there was nothing—absolutely nothing—like being able to stick up for your friends in theirs.