THE CHRONICALS OF GRATITOUS MARTOUF DEATH
chronicle one --- death by stargate
Martouf was strolling around the embarkation room, waiting for SG-1 to get back so he could subtly harass Jack some more. He smiled smugly to himself, thinking how special he was because he had a worm in his head.
"I rock," he thought, and then started mentally listing all the ways in which he rocked.
"Incoming traveler," announced the techie in the overlooking room. Normally, he would have seen Martouf standing directly in front of the Stargate, but one of his online buddies had just sent him some REALLY HOT pictures of Gillian Anderson.
Martouf was on 'way he rocked' number 49. He was trying to make it an even 50, which was much more important than the fact the Stargate was going round and round.
He might have heard the distracted techie's warning, but SOMEONE had turned down the volume of the sound system!!!
The Gate went SWOOSH!
Martouf went "GAAAAA!"
That same SOMEONE hid the smoking shoes...
"So you don't have any idea where Martouf went?" asked General Hammond.
"How could we know, sir?" asked Jack indignantly. "We didn't even KNOW he was here... he was gone before we got back from PX1-800-CALL-ATT."
Hammond growled. He was in a very bad mood.
Jack whimpered and hid behind Teal'c. Teal'c hid behind Sam. Sam hid behind Daniel. Daniel hid behind Hammond. Daniel, realizing where he was, ran away, crying.
The others followed.
"Kinda weird for Martouf to just take off like that, doncha think?" asked Daniel. He'd just taken a shower, and was now rooting through his black hole of a locker. All Jack could see of him was his ankles sticking out.
"Good for nothing parasite," the Colonel grumbled, so very happy that Martouf had decided to split. He did a good impression of a General Hammond Growlę as he toweled his hair dry.
"W-what'd y-you s-say?" called Daniel. His voice echoed against the sides of his locker.
"Um, I said "what hat should Teal'c wear tonight?"" They were taking the Jaffa miniature golfing.
"Ooh! Ooh! I have a really neat bandana somewhere in here!" exclaimed Daniel, climbing even deeper inside the abyss until Jack could no longer see him.
The other man sighed and opened his own locker.
And what greeted him... but a pair of smoking shoes!!!
With feet still in them!!!
"Ahhhhhh!" screamed Jack. "DAMN! Those are some REALLY ugly shoes!"
He peeked inside.
"Ahhhhhhhh! And there's feet still in em!"
He sniffed the air.
"Ew... and they smell like Martouf."
Suddenly, the humor, er, reality of the situation hit him like a wiener dog full of wet cement.
"Oh my God! They killed Marty!"
"Huh?" asked Daniel, emerging from the Cimmerian depths, flowered bandana in hand.
Jack slammed his friend's locker door shut.
Jack picked up the feet, one in each hand. They were still warm and kinda squishy. "These," he said slowly, "Are Martouf's feet."
"Huh?" asked Sam, walking into the locker room with a sense of impeccable timing.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!" screamed Jack for the third time in the last thirty seconds. He jumped, and his towel fell to the floor. He threw the incriminating feet into his locker like he was playing a morbid game of hot potato. "Carter! This in the men's locker room at the moment! What are you doing here?"
She put her hands behind her back. "Actually, sir, I was temporarily giving into my secret lust for you and hoping to find you partially unclothed. And lookie here, no towel." She narrowed her eyes. "Now... what did you just say about Martouf?"
"Um... 'Gee, Martouf's neat'?"
Sam scoffed. "Yeah, when Death Gliders fly out of my butt."
"As in, 'you're full of bull?'"
"Hm. By any chance, did Teal'c teach you that particular idiom?"
"Actually, I came up with it myself."
"Very nice." Jack picked up his towel. There was really no way around this. "Anyway..." he opened his locker and Sam looked inside.
"Oh my God!"
"Those are Martouf's feet!"
"I'd recognize those shoes anywhere!"
"She glared. "Sir, do you have any idea what you've DONE?"
"Do you have any idea what this MEANS?"
"It means that wherever Martouf is... he's running around without feet!"
"I bet that hurts!"
But Sam had always run from the room, feet in hand. Grousing, Jack hitched up his towel and followed.
"Hello?" called Daniel from inside his locker.
"I swear I didn't do it. I couldn't have done it! We all came back from PX1-800-COLLECT at the same time!"
Sitting in the center of a dark room, the only light coming from the bulb Teal'c was holding over his chair, Jack crossed his arms defensively. "Come on, I know I didn't like the guy, but I'm not a cold-blooded killer!"
Jack slumped back in his chair. "Well this is just wonderful. For crying out loud... hey wait a minute. You!"
"Yeah, you, omnipresent narrator person."
You aren't supposed to be talking to me.
"Well, no one else is awake."
"Did you just say that Teal'c is holding the light bulb over my head?"
Um, lemme check... yep. That's what I said.
"Well, how is that possible? How is it lit up?"
Um, Teal'c has the fingers of his other hand stuck in an electrical outlet.
Hey, shut up! You're the one being interrogated here!
"I didn't kill the little ass! You know that! In fact, you know everything!"
That's right. I'm omnipresent, omnipotent, and omnivorous.
Hey Hammond, WAKE UP!
Yawning, the General stood, shaking off the nightmare of being chased by the unholy hybrid of an electric pencil sharpener and a Chris Leduex CD. Where had he left off... Oh yeah. "Did you kill Martouf?" he asked Jack for the 47th time.
Hammond sighed. Jack had better confess soon; otherwise, they would have to start getting creative. "Turn the lights on," he ordered.
Jack covered his eyes as the room flooded with illumination. When he looked up a split second later, Teal'c was no longer standing over him. Instead, he was across the room with Hammond, Daniel, and Sam, who had finally been convinced that Martouf was dead, but had insisted on placing his feet in a bucket of ice "just in case".
"OK, now it's just getting creepy," said Jack.
"Do you promise you are in no way responsible for Martouf's death?" asked Sam, staring sadly into her bucket of feet.
"If I killed him, would I be stupid enough to remove his feet and put them in my locker?"
"Yes," said Daniel nastily, still a little annoyed at being trapped in his locker for an hour and a half. It wasn't as big as it looked.
O'Neill made a face. "Oh, come on. I'm a little smarter than that."
"Smart enough to arrange the murder of a Tok'ra?" cried Teal'c passionately, pointing an accusatory finger. He'd been watching too much NBC television lately, Jack noted.
"No," said Daniel again.
"Thank you, Danny." He glared at the others. "Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty... or insane?"
"Oh, you're guilty," said Hammond. "We just have to beat it out of you."
Well, thought Jack, I guess the only way to prove I didn't kill Martouf is to find the lucky bastard who got to him first.
But before he set about doing that, he set out to the infirmary. He wanted to ask Janet if Jaffa were indeed good conductors. What an idiot.
"Hey! You're the one who-"
Do you believe EVERYTHING the narrator tells you?
"Well, yeah, usually."
Well, that's why you end up in situations like this. Now shut up and find Janet!
"Find Janet? What do you mean?"
Do you SEE her anywhere?
Well, find her!
Jack rummaged around and finally found Janet... in a closet of all places. AND she was tied and gagged. As she was alone in the closet, Jack knew this was a serious matter and not just some kinky little game. "Doc, what are you doing in here?"
"Mmm mmmm mmm!"
"Did you see his face?"
"Well, who was it?"
"Mmmmmm mmmmmm mmmmmmm!"
Jack gasped. "Gasp! Did you do those tests on Martouf's feet?"
"And what did you find?"
"Mmmmm mmm mmmm hmmm hm mmm mmm hm. Mmm mm mmmm hmmm, Mmrrrr... mmm hmm, mm mmmmm mmmm mmm!"
"They he could have been pushed into the Stargate's plasma stuff! And then-"
"Mm mmmmm mmm!"
"Mmmm mm hmmm mm!"
"Thanks Janet! You're right!" He dashed out of the room.
"Mmm mmmmmmm," said Janet.
"I don't mind you offing Martouf. And thanks for the souvenirs. But if you're going to kill the snakehead, at least take credit for it! Don't frame me!"
The killer - that certain SOMEONE from the first scene - smiled nervously. "But framing you was all part of the master plan."
"Well, you should have taken better care of Janet! She talked!"
"Even with a gag in her mouth? Impossible!"
"I happen to be fluent in gag-ese, actually."
Still, the killer looked self-satisfied. "No one will ever believe it was me. Everyone loves me, dammit! And once you're unfairly sent to jail, no one will know the truth!"
Hey, keep me out of this. I'm neutral. I'm like Switzerland... or the color taupe.
"Really? I always thought taupe was more of a 'warm' color," said the killer. "Now where... ah, yes. No one will ever know the truth!"
"Sam will never let me go to jail! She knows I'd never kill someone in cold blood."
Jack sighed. "Fine. If no one will believe me and I'm going to jail anyway, will you at least tell me how you did it?"
The killer shrugged. "Uh... sure. Why not? It was Martouf's own stupidity, actually. He was just prancing around the gate room... standing right in front of the Stargate while it was activating. He was practically ASKING for it! What a moron! I didn't think I would actually get away with it but I couldn't help myself. I disabled the PA system so he couldn't hear the warnings."
Despite himself, Jack grinned.
"Poor idiot was standing right on the foot of the ramp when the gate opened. All that remained-"
"Were his shoes."
The two men shared a sadistic smile.
"Wait a minute here," said Jack suddenly. "How did you get his feet into my locker? I know I locked it... that's what you do. You lock a locker."
"Yeah, well, the narrator unlocked it for me."
"Hey! You! I thought you said you were Switzerland!"
Maybe Poland. Or the USSR. Or-
"I get the picture." He turned back to the killer. "Ya know, what you did wasn't very nice."
Again, he shrugged. "Yeah. Neither was he. And neither are you. Which is why I did what I did." He sighed contentedly. "Now Martouf is dead and you will be accused of his murder. All the competition is out of the way and I can have Sam all to myself!"
"I don't think so, puppy-boy!"
Graham Simmons gasped, looking over to see Sam standing in the doorway of his quarters. "Uh-oh."
"If you'd just offed Martouf, sure, okay, I could handle that," she said, speaking slowly and emphatically, stalking into the room like a lioness on the hunt. "If you'd just messed with O'Neill, why, I do that all the time."
"Yes, you do," said Jack.
"But kill Martouf AND frame O'Neill? Not on my base, bub!"
"YOUR base?" growled Hammond, appearing out of thin air, which is not easy for a man of his, er, POSITION to do.
Simmons cowered. "I did it all for you, Sam!"
She placed her hands on her hips.
"In that case, don't. Do. Me. Any. Favors. BUSTER!"
"Don't kill me!" cried Graham.
"Kill you?" repeated Sam, her voice soft and dangerous. "Why would I kill you when I could just BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF YOU?"
"Whaa-aaaa!" said Graham Simmons, and he ran from the room. Sam followed, shouting epithets in various languages.
"I taught her those," said Daniel proudly.
There was a moment of silence, punctuated every so often by Simmons' screams.
"Well," said Jack.
"Well," said Hammond.
"Well," said Daniel.
"Shiz-bam," said Teal'c.
"Well," said Teal'c.
Yeah, that's what I thought you said.
Jack thought of Martouf's feet sitting in an ice bucket somewhere on the base. "Anyone for a game of hockey?"
"Mmmmmm?" asked Janet to an empty infirmary.
"I didn't doubt you for a second."
"Yes you did."
"Well, just a couple seconds."
"Try an entire afternoon."
"Well, you have to admit, it looked pretty bad."
"Yeah, I guess."
"I still trust you, though."
"Oh, I know. You demonstrated THAT quite... effectively."
"That's what I was going for. Effective."
"Um, yeah. Hey, do you miss Martouf?"
"Kinda. I mean, he was nice enough. And he DID make you pretty green."
"His FEET made me green."
"I mean green with envy. Pass the whipped cream."
"Oh, yeah. Seaweed, Christmas tree, Kermit the Frog green."
"I never noticed that."
"It's the truth."
"I - hey! Quit stealing the sheets."
"I hope we aren't haunted by Martouf's ghost or anything. I mean, I hope he moves on to the Happy Gou'ald-Hunting Grounds, or whatever Tok'ra have."
"Actually, Jack... I was talking to Daniel about that today. He said that, um, if you put an item belonging to the deceased under your pillow, you'll dream about them, and you can asked them, you know, how they're doing."
"Yeah... unfortunately, I didn't HAVE any items that belonged to him besides..."
"Do you have one of Martouf's feet under your pillow?"
"Well, somewhere in here," she laughed, rifling through the sheets. "I would have given you the other foot, but I couldn't find it."
"Jack? What did you do with Martouf's right foot?"
He cleared his throat "Let's just say he finally took my up on that offer of a hockey game."
"Hey, Teal'c and Danny and Hammond were in on it, too."
"You expect me to believe that Hammond played hockey with one of Martouf's feet?"
"We needed even teams. Besides, stranger things have happened."
"Anyway, he kinda considered it a memorial service. A way of saying 'even if his heart won't go on, at least his right foot will.'"
"Touching. So where is it now?"
"Uh, we sorta got it stuck in a tree..."
Sam sighed. Boys. "Chocolate syrup?"
"Why not? Hey, whatever happened to Simmons?"
"I kicked his ass. He's probably still hiding under his bed."
"No kidding? He thinks there's an invisible platoon of Jaffa living down there. You must have scared him pretty bad."
"I'd like to think so."
"So, uh, Jack... you want to look for that foot?"
"I can think of better things to do."