"Look," the little demon said, impatiently. "These guys are at the center of a lot of portents; they'll have more influence over the fate of the universe than you ever will. If you would just reconsider..."
"We will not interfere," Anateaus replied. "The young ones have good intentions, but they cannot yet be trusted. To give them too much power before they learn that their way is not the only way would be a grave mistake."
Of course, that was the point, Whistler fumed. Dragging SG-1 and their supporters down would cushion the positive disruptions in the Balance that Summers and her unexpected entourage were predicted to cause. "Oh, come on," he coaxed. "It's just minor technology-- and it's not even offensive! You know what they're likely to run into out there; a little help now could save a lot of lives."
Anateaus shook his head serenely. "We will not assist you. And now, I must return to our guests."
Whistler sighed irritably. Abstinent twig-headed bastards; the Nox never were of any use, but that annoying glow-bug Oma had forbidden the Powers from meddling directly with these guys, so he'd had to try. Hopefully, there'd be other opportunities soon enough.