The Assassins

-Can Daniel ever die?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except the assassins. And even then, I wouldn't like to own them...

Tomal Maul, Assassin Prime and Amanatra Ralya, Assassin Apprentice

To the Most Honorable Gould leader, Lemonatris, concerning the matter of the Earthling, Dr. Daniel Jackson of SG1.

Mission Report: On Taluk 6th, by the Jempen calendar, I, Tomal Maul and my apprentice, Amanatra Ralya, have been assigned to liquidate Daniel Jackson of SG1, for the price of a year's worth of rations of Tretonin. The following is the mission report of Tomal Maul, as I record the events of the assassination.

To the Gould Lemonatris: "What in the world were you thinking? This Dr. Jackson is no mortal; he cannot be killed! Upon arriving at that pathetically sheltered world, Amanatra and I surveyed the scene of our kill. The easiest attempts were at Dr. Jackson's personal residence, as he had no security whatsoever. My apprentice was begging for a chance to try her new equipment, but knowing how valuable the quarry was, I decided to strike first, which is my right as head assassin.

We surveyed Dr. Jackson's habits for an Earth week; for knowing how valuable his life is to you, we wanted to be sure of a clean strike, and if possible, to make it look accidental. That planet is filled with hills and mountains that the primitive population drives over in primitive vehicles. It wasn't hard to plan several accidental deaths. His work schedule is also unique; most of the populace seems to work for five days and take two off at the end of their week. It would be easiest to strike on the day called "Friday," for no one would be looking for him until the beginning of their week, "Monday." So, on Friday afternoon, Amanatra and I used our invisibility devices and walked into their so called "secure" base. I spent many hours examining the primitive vehicle, while Amanatra surveyed the base. For Earth security, the underground of the base is extremely secure. It would not be easy to launch a strike team by gate.

When Amanatra had returned, she and I settled into the bushes to watch our handiwork unravel. I had rigged his vehicle's breaks to loosen without cutting the wire, so that down the hill they would not work and he would go veering off the side of the mountain. It was a perfect night for it too, for it was cold and had begun to rain. Dr. Jackson came out totally unsuspecting. He then entered his car and proceeded to start it, but the engine did not turn over. He tried and tried again, but still it didn't work. Now, I only touched the breaks, not the engine. By all means, I was hoping the car would start! But Earth vehicles are so faulty, I suppose, because Dr. Jackson started grumbling about how this always happened to him. Then, the hated Colonel Jack O'Neil came by in his own vehicle. He then proceeded to give Dr. Jackson a ride, as it would be easy to drive him home and pick him up for work on Monday. Most peculiar. We were surprised but not undaunted; assignations sometimes go awry like such.

We then proceeded to enter into his dwelling, as we figured he would come home after being taken to town by his superior. I had concealed myself in the closet of his room, and Amanatra under his bed. I did not take into account the Earthling's strange behavior towards each other; they hold companionship in much higher regard than most races. In fact, over the week we noticed that most Earthlings were never alone. But we knew that this man lived alone.

However, his superiorescorted him in and the two talked long into the hours of the night. Amanatra, being less experienced, did not conceal herself in a comfortable place and over time began to shift around due to muscle cramps. Finally, the superior left, and Dr. Jackson made ready for bed. After he had slept for an hour or so, I crept out. Much to my dismay, Amanatra was not in condition to kill. She had cramped her muscles to such a degree that I had to carry her out, and we decided to forestall our assignation for the next day, for one does not kill when one cannot run.

The next day proved both good and bad for assassins. The weather was very rainy, and so our prey was kept contained within his apartment all day. But in the rain it is impossible to use our invisibility devices; such things make holes in the rain, so we devised a plan of attack. Disposing of the resident on the fourth floor of the apartment directly across from the desired target, I aimed and fired the Zat'nik'atel in order to stun-to-kill. Unfortunately, windows on Earth must be made of sand, not metal elements. The beam did not go through the window, as was expected, but bounced off and stunned my surprised apprentice instead.

According to the code of the assassins, Amanatra will kill me when she becomes of age, unless she is bought by a master. As is our way, for we feel it better to be killed by someone we know and trust than by someone we don't know. That being said, I thought my time had come to die when Amanatra woke up. Luckily, she has another two or three years to go before she has learned all there is to know, and she is smart enough to know this, so I remained safe. But just barely.

Anyway, I then resorted to the weapon I completed the training on; the poison dart gun. We have a superstition among assassins that the weapon you make your first kill with is sacred, and will never again fail you (if used with the proper respect). Using my old fashioned weapon would go well for me, in theory, so I removed it from its sacred case. Amanatra snuck to the other building and climbed up the wall to his window. Using her unique skills, she opened the victim's window, then climbed back down the wall.

Now, I tell you that I could see this man. I had a straight shot at Dr. Jackson. By this time he was standing next to the wall, talking on one of their odd communication devices. I loaded my pipe and took aim. With expert skill (if you doubt my skill, I can give you a personal demonstration) I shot, and no sooner had the air left my lips than Dr. Jackson ducked. My dart imbedded into the wall directly behind him. He emerged with a pencil and paper, and began writing something down. Now, I have seen many things in the galaxy I don't understand, but I have never seen a man who so subconsciously foils death and doesn't even know it! In shame with the failure of my weapon, I offered the next chance to Amanatra.

Needless to say, Amanatra was thrilled to have her chance to apply her education. Dressing in a most revealing garb, she silently slid a knife into her "thigh-strap," and the proceeded to initiate her own hunt for the quarry. I watched from the window of the apartment across the street. Amanatra did their custom of knocking on the door, and when Dr. Jackson answered she came in most beguilingly. Dr. Jackson didn't miss a beat; he had her sit down and turned his back on her to get a cup of coffee. Amanatra yanked out her knife and was just about to stab when Dr. Jackson turned around. Nonplused, he took her knife out of her very hand, and spent an hour talking with her while she politely listened. When he finished, he gave the knife back to Amanatra, then made a call on the communication device. Now there were witnesses, and if Amanatra stayed beyond her welcome it would jeopardize the entire mission by causing undue suspicion. So, Amanatra took her dagger and left.

Apparently, the man on the communication device earlier had been a teacher of some sorts, asking Dr. Jackson to apprentice a student for an hour. The student was to bring an ancient artifact and Dr. Jackson was to assess it. Amanatra informed me that he "didn't think much of her dagger," and that "if you aim to get into the study of archaeology, you need to do extensive research on the item you have acquired. Your 'dagger' is only ten or so years old." "Of course it is," Amanatra grumbled to me. "I made it myself! And it's only five years old; it looks older because I've used it more." But I didn't have to know this.

After this, we tapped into his primitive phone lines. We learned that he was not going out for dinner in the evening, because he called something called a "Pizza Shack." By this time, I was desperate. In order to visit Dr. Jackson, and possibly even to complete my mission, I acquired a uniform of the food service manager, known as the "pizza deliverer." I then tied the poor kid in the closet, pulled open the box that contained the worthless Earth food, and I sprinkled five ounces of Hectrocate, that poison which is odorless, tasteless, and kills instantly. Normally, just a pinch will do, but I wanted to make sure Dr. Jackson died.

I delivered the pizza with no problems, and quickly I ran yet again out of the building and into our hideout across the way. Amanatra and I then practically perched on the window sill and stared into the apartment, neither of us daring to blink. Daniel took out plates and cups, pouring himself a beverage. He then sat down and took the pizza out of the box. He opened his mouth and was just about to bite down, when suddenly he dropped his piece and recoiled. "Gack!" we heard him shout, his window still being open, "I said no anchovies!" I myself did think it was peculiar to have dead fish with glassy eyes spread on bread and cheese, but I figured it was a normal Earth dish. Sadly, the pizza was not eaten. Dr. Jackson left his apartment and went to the supply post across the road.

I HAD HAD IT! So had Amanatra. We both ran out of our building and dashed recklessly down the wet street. I had determined to kill this man, even if I had to break into the shopping post and strangle him. But before I reached the supply post, Dr. Jackson exited. I stared straight at him and barreled towards him across the street, looking at nothing else. I was determined to finish my job.

Unfortunately, I was then hit by a transport vehicle they call a car. Amanatra broke away from the scene instantly; she had gone to get our ship (which has a medical stasis pod). I knew I would survive if she hurried; I could be kept in stasis until we cashed in a favor with an acquaintance of ours who has managed to be wealthy enough to have a sarcophagus. What nettled me most, though, is that it was Dr. Jackson who called his own emergency services and stayed with me while we waited for them to come. He recognized me as the pizza boy, and he kept telling me how treacherous these streets are in the rain. Like I don't know. Anyway, the man insisted on managing the entire crisis, telling me that I was going to be okay while comforting the distraught driver. Luckily, Amanatra is one of the fastest pilots I've ever seen. She swooped down and beamed me up, and we were out of there, sirens blazing in the distance.

I'm sure the entire matter became an SG1 mission report. The poor lady who hit me probably had to go in for therapy, and the planet's medics probably had the time of their lives chewing out Dr. Jackson when they found no body in the accident scene. I went into stasis, and was revived and healed sometime later. Amanatra and I decided then that we were not going to make our living as assassins anymore. We had never been licked so soundly, and I felt that we were being given a second chance to live our lives, however honest they would be. I am sorry, though, that I cannot give you back your retaining fee of a half-year's ration of tretonin. I know this may make you angry, but remember, I still hold information in the Ankara device, information your worst enemy, Felixius the Mighty, would like to have very much. So I suggest you leave us alone, and if you really want to rise in the ranks of the Gould, kill Dr. Jackson yourself.

End Mission Report