Murphy's Physics
by Lothithil
Part Twelve
Murphy's 12th Law: "If everything has been going wrong, something is bound to go right."
Udimu
sat on his padded throne, waiting for his underlings to bring his
captives before him. He wore an attitude of relaxed superiority, but it
was a mask to conceal that he was seething. It galled him-- infuriated
him-- that his power and majesty should be so little recongnized at the
present. It had taken too long to locate the harsesis as well
as an expenditure of much naquada and slaves that he could not spare.
The System Lords had shut him down at every turn; luckily for him, a
goa'uld could buy anything for the right amount of naquada.
The
cost of the location of this planet had been great; enough mineral to
build a Ha'tac, and a third of his jaffa had died in the raid upon
Kali's territory while stealing it. It angered him that it should cost
him anything. Could not it be seen that he had a right to whatever his
heart declared to him? To negotiate price and offer payment was beneath
the consideration of a God.
It was unseeming as well for a God
to lower himself to such petty outbursts, therefore Udimu could not
rage and rant in his frustration. He raised his chin high and leaned
back, trying to forget the humiliation he was suffering by indulging in
daydreams of glory and conquest to come.
His body servants and
guards pretended that they did not hear Udimu speak. The God often
spoke aloud to Himself. It was more than their lives were worth to
interrupt Him.
"Soon", the God said, long fingers stroking the
underside of his chin, "I will at last take my rightful place as a
System Lord... perhaps even become a Power great enough to humble the
System Lords! Surely one such as I, Udimu the Vast and Terrible, should
not be expected to stand beside such lowly goa'ulds as Bastet or Ba'al!
I shall be hailed as the greatest Goa'uld Lord all!"
Lost in
his fantasies, Udimu was not aware that a hooded jaffa had escorted the
boy before him until the jaffa tapped his staff gently on the floor.
The boy was kneeling in front of the jaffa in an attitude of dejection
and surrender.
The Goa'uld looked upon the child with greedy
eyes. He was strong of limb but much younger than any host he had ever
taken before. "I should wait," the Goa'uld said softly, as if still
speaking to himself. "I should cultivate this host for a few years,
until the body has reached the ideal conditions for absorbtion. But I
have searched and waited for a long time, and I will not take the
chance of losing you again. Jaffa!" He turned glowing eyes upon the
warrior who stood over the boy. "Where is the human prisoner? Did I not
order that he should be brought before me as well!"
The jaffa
stiffened, striking his breast in a salute to his god. "My lord," the
jaffa's voice was muffled by the closed hood, "the human is dead."
Udimu
sat up, his carefully sustained aura of calm dissipating in a fresh
wave of fury. "Is it not customary to kneel before your God when he
deigns to speak to you?" He raised his hand, the ribbon device glowing
on his palm. "I should strike you down for this insolence!"
The
jaffa knelt, his ill-fitting armour clanking, and bowed his head. In
his hand, the staff weapon assumed a seemingly innocent angle toward
Udimu. But the goa'uld was too insensed to notice. He focused on the
device, prepared to strike down the jaffa. So what if the numbers of
his jaffa had been decimated... surely one more would not make too
great a difference.
The boy looked up, frozen between the doomed
jaffa and the goa'uld. Udimu frowned, not wanting to risk harming the
child he had hunted for so long. "Stand aside, harsesis! I will show you what happens to those who defy their God!"
"Defy this, snakehead."
The
boy dodged aside, just before the jaffa thumbed the trigger on his
staff weapon. A neath hole the size of a bowling ball appeared through
Udimu's chest. The goa'uld had reached for his wrist to turn on his
bodyshield rather than release the blast from his ribbon device. He
fell back on his throne with a look of amazement, watching the smoke
rising from his bowels. He seemed more surprised that his servants and
guards did nothing to leap to his aid as he slid from the seat and died
upon the floor.
When the desperate gould symbiote wormed out of the dead host, a heavy jaffa boot came down and crushed the life from it.
O'Neill gave his heel a twist to finish the job. "God, I love my work!"