Avaricum
Daniel frowned at the artifact sitting innocently on his desk. It was a simple-looking jar, ringed with lines of Goa'uld. While he'd expected it to be some sort of praise to the gods, hidden within the religious context was the instructions to make what seemed to be a very, very dangerous weapon. Intended to target incoming hostile ships and blast them out of the stars. Capable of pinpointing individual cities on a planet's surface and destroying them completely in a single, swift stroke. The sheer familiarity of the idea gave him the chills as he imagined the weapon in the hands of the NID.
Sure, the weapon might be used to defend Earth from alien attack. But how long before those in charge started using it to quietly eliminate those who would oppose them? How many innocents would be slaughtered in the name of "self-preservation"? History had shown time and again that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and history was something Daniel was extremely intimate with. More than that, he knew all too well what this kind of weapon could do, thanks to the dream Shifu had used to teach him years ago. The destruction that Earth had endured at his own hands, in the name of "freedom," was more than adequate to convince him that no good could come of such a device.
He looked down at his notes. Most of the translation he'd written so far seemed innocent on the surface, but there would always be the chance that someone else would look deeper, as he had, draw the same conclusions from his work, and build the weapon. No, it would be better to personally destroy his own research than to have it serve as the springboard of tyranny.
Mind made up, he turned on his rarely-used paper shredder and fed his notes through. The machine spat out tiny strips of research, forming a small mountain of ruined translations in the bottom of the wastepaper bin.
Daniel picked up the jar and looked it over again. Though it went against every archaeological instinct he had, he knew he had to destroy the jar itself to eliminate any chance of the weapon falling into the wrong hands. It would be too suspicious for him to just drop it; everyone knew Dr. Jackson treasured his precious artifacts and would never be so careless as to clumsily break one. Perhaps a request to transfer it to another lab, and having a mishap in transit?
The PA crackled to life, interrupting his thoughts. "SG-1, report to the Briefing Room."
He set the jar back down on his desk. It would be easy to arrange an "accident", so that the jar would be broken beyond all repair. The summons came first, though. There would be plenty of time to orchestrate the jar's destruction later.
To be continued...