AN: Stargate-SG 1 implied that the timeline we saw in the show was arguably the best for Earth. In it, Earth and her allies got as far as they did while paying as low a price in life as possible. They generally seldom had to choose between survival and compromising their morals. We saw many realities where wrong decisions, more competent enemies, or sheer bad luck was enough to doom Earth or, at best, see it pay a much higher price for its eventual ascension as a galactic power.
This isn't a Stargate story where a small group of plucky heroes repeatedly manage to save the day. This is a story about a reality where their luck runs out, about a timeline where relying on a last-moment rescue by SG-1 is not a wise policy...
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars, or Stargate movies, TV shows, games, books, or comics. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.
Prologue: Sith aren't supposed to improve things...
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Part 1
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Ascendent Plain
Milky Way Galaxy
An endless gray expanse rippled with barely restrained power. The argument had been going back and forth for what might have been as well an eternity on the mortal plane, without a resolution in sight.
A string of ancient mistakes, followed by an outright recent disaster born of the best of intentions. Those and simple bad luck, were more than enough to doom multiple galaxies.
Yet, the only beings who had the power to do something about it kept arguing, even if every single one of them could see the stream of compounding trends and disasters. The truth of the matter was simple – they were all afraid. The magnitude of interventions needed to ensure a favorable outcome was all but certain to get the attention of the never sufficiently damned Ori, or worse.
The Ascended hadn't spent countless years shielding their small part of the universe to see it devoured by outside powers before its inhabitants had a chance to rise to the challenge! At the same time, between less than wise leadership, internal strife, and sheer bad luck, the odds of a benevolent power rising and uniting the Alteran's descendants grew more and more remote with every passing day.
A ripple went through the gray, misty plain. Moths of light danced along with clouds that were little more than illusions, illuminating them with a warm glow. Shadows rose in the distance, threatening to devour all light.
Light and shadows danced, clashing, twisting, or entwining into a single rope of power, before falling apart, constantly jousting for supremacy. The Ascended ceased their eternal bickering and took note of the new strange energies infecting their realm.
"Ganos! What did you do?!" The last High Councilor of Atlantis demanded, and his will shook the Ascended Plane.
A blazing ball of light slipped past a crack of lightning and a storm of shadow blades to clash beside the incorporeal form of Moros.
"You screamed, old friend?" Despite her glow, the being once known as Morgan Le Fay, radiated exhaustion, sorrow, and a hint of defiant pride.
"Answer Moros, Ganos Lal!" An ancient Ascendant brimming with power, demanded.
"I did what you were afraid to do. I called a favor. The compact stands. We haven't intervented. The others won't notice that anything is amiss until one way or another it's too late."
"Stop dancing around the point, woman! For once in your existence, speak plainly!" Moros snapped in vexation.
The mere aftershocks of his anger sent their plain tumbling, swirling light and darkness into clashing twisters of odd energies that had no business manifesting in their dimension.
"I told you the truth, Honored Elder. I called up a favor. Our hands remain clean, yet there now is a chance, no matter how remote, that our legacy doesn't damn everything we once held dear!"
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Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
A self-proclaimed god of thunder examined his new host with hungry eyes. At a first glance, the male human wasn't much to look at. He was shorter than the blond giant Perun used as a meat-puppet these days, dark of eye and hair. He was also a vicious thing, addled in the head.
The human was a catch courtesy to the Jaffa visiting one of Perun's vassal worlds looking for spare hosts, or easy on the eyes servant material for the palace. They found him stumbling near the Stargate, naked and speaking in tongues. The many scars the stranger bore with pride earned him the respect of the Jaffa and a place in today's ceremony.
A check-up by Perun's scientists ensured that the man wasn't a trap – there were no unpleasant surprises in his body, only the hidden scars of even more healed wounds.
Whoever the stranger was, he was a warrior born. Perhaps, this was a divine providence! The heaven themselves providing the next host of the god of Thunder and Battle!
"Jaffa, Kree!" Perun made a swift motion, ordering his warriors to bring the human to his knees.
As soon as the butt of a staff struck the back of his knee, something shifted in the man's confused eyes. Perun watched him look wildly around. When a Jaffa went to strike the human for the lack of deference to the divinity that was Perun, the man reacted, proving to everyone watching he was a warrior born.
The stranger surged to his knees, moving in a blur. His hands grabbed the butt of the staff aimed at the back of his head, and he twisted around, using straining muscles and momentum to tear the weapon from the Jaffa's hands. That was a feat in itself. Without wasting a heartbeat, the man went on the offensive, using the captured weapon to batter aside the staff of the second Jaffa who dragged him in. A few lightning-fast strikes proved that said warrior wasn't cut off to be among Perun's Thunder Guard.
The second Jaffa recovered from his surprise and drew his Zat'nik'tel. He aimed at the human and fired.
To everyone's surprise, the man caught the surging energy blast on the bulbous head of the staff, then thrust it at the Jaffa, who managed to reflexively shoot a second time, just as he got hit in the sternum.
Both men fell to the ground, convulsing under the tender mercies of the Zat'nik'tel.
Perun clapped happily at the demonstration.
"This will be my new host!" He proclaimed grandly. "Prepare him! I am eager to experience a new warrior's insights!"
Half an hour later, attendants prepared the stranger. They cleaned him up, bathed, and covered his whole body with scented oils. His unconscious body laid face down on a marble altar, while ten priests sang a war-chant. Perun's First Prime stood on one knee in front of the Thunder Guard. They were all ready to see their god ascend anew.
Perun walked to the altar clad in simple silver robes, symbolizing his impending rebirth and increase in power. The chant rose to a crescendo, and the god lowered his head until his lips touched the back of the human's neck. Perun surged forth, abandoning his former host. His teeth tore through skin and flesh, soon finding the spine and twisting around it like a parasitic vine choking a tree. The Goa'uld's spiked hood flared and his head struck, biting through the base of the human's skull, initiating the melding.
Perun went through the human's memories with relish, and beheld divinity! He beheld war of unprecedented scale! War Machines this galaxy had never seen clashed against each other, both in space and on the surface of a blue planet! Vast fleets tore at each other eager for victory, while countless worlds burned below them!
Suddenly, Perun found himself in a dark temple. There he beheld yet another miracle! Perun watched dozens of Hok'tars training! He saw them use telekinesis on each other, then lighting, and even draw the very life force from humans until there was little more than a dry husk left!
His host was one of them, Perun was sure of it! The power he just saw, it was his power now! Perun was… Everything in the temple froze. A figure cloaked in hissing shadows waked towards the Goa'uld, who for the first time in centuries felt genuine unease. It wasn't quite a fear, not yet.
"PARASITE! You dare!?" Those words echoed within the twisted memory.
Perun tried to sneer back, but his mouth didn't quite work as it was supposed to be.
"I am your god, human!" The Goa'uld finally found his voice. Instead of a proclamation of divinity, what came out was little more than a croak.
"Do you have any idea how many self-proclaimed 'gods' I've sent to the abyss screaming?!" The dark figure spat in contempt.
Perun did his best to pull out of this nightmare, he even tried to leave the host. Instead, the Goa'uld found itself frozen in place, helpless. A terrible mind smashed into his own, tearing it asunder and taking anything it deemed of value, while utterly obliterating everything that made Perun who he was.
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Part 2
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Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
Perun died screaming. Yet, even in death, the bloody parasite was a 'gift' that kept on giving. I really didn't need thousands of years of memories strutting around being useless, or torturing people for the fun of it. The heavy dose of godlike-delusions I could do without as well.
As if that wasn't enough, after destroying its mind, I wasn't sure where my own consciousness began and ended. I could feel both my human body and the parasite that weaved itself around my spine. It was a disturbing and very odd sensation. Thanks to my new memories, it also felt right.
I gingerly got up from the altar, trying my best to tune out the chanting chorus of fanatics. The back of my head stung something fiercely. Every time I turned my head in any direction, I could feel the dual sensation of my muscles, and those of the parasite acting in tandem. Doing so, avoided internal damage due to the parasite's flared spiked "crown".
"Praised be thy name, my Lord Perun!" My brand new, yet very old goat of a High Priest proclaimed. That fuck needed to go screaming – he had a taste for young girls, which Perun used as a means of control and reward.
Thinking about it, most of my court needed to go because of either sheer incompetence, stupid malevolence, or both. With my luck, the few vaguely competent Goa'uld I inherited from that prick Perun, would turn out to be Tok'Ra spies.
A pair of servants – female, cocoa skinned sisters at that, hurried to put a toga on my naked glistering body.
On the bright side, whatever brought me here, and I was somehow sure, this was no incident, brought the Force as well. I could feel both the Light and Dark Side. They were currently in turmoil, busy spreading and clashing all over the galaxy, then beyond.
I looked at my supposed elites, Perun's Thunder Guard. They were loyal, or at least Perun thought so. They were also ripe for the slaughter by any military force worth it's salt. That had to change, along with many other things. But first, my mind snapped back to my High Priest. The man was giddy with happiness at witnessing my ascension, and in eager anticipation of his reward. I raised my hands and drew on the Force. Purple lightning danced across my fingers, hushing the Chorus. Soon everyone in the large ritual chamber stared at me with awe.
"I am Perun! Lord of Thunder! Lord of War!" I proclaimed, using the Force to enhance my voice, and subconsciously layered in Goa'uld special effects for a good measure.
"Lord Perun!" My Jaffa thundered as one.
"My eyes are now opened! I've ascended!" I layered it thick. With the Force at my disposal, I might actually be able to credibly post as a god, while denouncing the rest of the Goa'uld as false idols. The surge of glee at that thought took me aback. Down, boy, that's too much megalomania even for a Sith!
Fuck it, I needed therapy. But first things first, a certain goat needed a reward.
"High Priest, you've been taking advantage of my gifts, of my people put in your charge to raise into the clergy! I've been blind, yet now my eyes are open!" As I said that, I drew on the Dark Side, making sure my eyes glowed like molten metal.
"My Lord, what…" The High Priest spluttered.
Before he could contradict me, I pointed my fingers at the priest and unleashed all my frustration and vexation at my current situation at him. Purple lighting struck his frail body and sent it flying across the chamber. By the time he hit the far wall, the priest was little more than a human torch, still writhing under my malevolent power. I kept going until he was little more than a charred skeleton beyond resurrection through a sarcophagus.
"First Prime, have my Thunder Guard lockdown the palace and walk with me. There is much to do," I beckoned at the general of my armies.
He was a quick thin man, all muscle and sinew, with a face vaguely resembling that of a hungry weasel. Consulting my memories, I figured out it was all because of his eyes – Stephan was a thinker, an oddity considering how utterly devoted and faithful he was.
"Yes my Lord Perun!" My First Prime exclaimed in glee. "Jaffa Kree! Secure the palace! No one gets in or out without our Lord's permission!"
"The rest of you, clean up this mess and get some sleep. I won't need you tonight," I dismissed the rest of the gathering and briskly headed towards my chambers.
This was the bloody palace of a minor Goa'uld, who controlled directly or indirectly eleven worlds in five systems. Even if those were small mining or farming outposts, it boggled the mind that the place lacked anything resembling a proper modern bathroom. That wasn't because the idea was novel, no sire. Perun, the prick, saw bathing below him. If Perun had to get clean, he had servants do it for him. I could vaguely recall that this hadn't been the case thousands of years ago when he was a proper warrior. But now, in an era of relative peace brought by Ra's overwhelming might? Perun had let himself go, and worse, utterly believed his delusions.
So much for getting all those scented oils and shit off me.
First, I needed to ensure that no one was going to overthrow or murder me in my palace. Vanity could wait.
We entered my quarters, and I chased away the servants waiting to bathe and clothe me. The concubines too, noting that most of them wouldn't be legal in any half-civilized world. While Perun himself wasn't nearly as bad as the deservedly departed High Priest, he was a piece of work as well. Of course, he was, I scoffed. He was a damned snake!
I paused in front of a row of golden mannequins holding several ceremonial armors. The craftsmanship was superb. A few of the designs even appeared vaguely serviceable. The only thing of dubious use was an open-faced winged helmet made of Ha'tak armor, encrusted with white gold.
"First Prime, I have orders for you," I began after gathering my running thoughts. I used the force to form a bubble around us, hopefully ensuring privacy. "With my ascension, came visions of the future, and the knowledge that we have all let ourselves go. We're pale imitations of the warriors we're supposed to be!"
I roared at the unfortunate Jaffa, who promptly fell on his knees, and planted his forehead on the polished marble floor. "That will change, starting tonight. Training, tactics, weapons, and armor – that will change. My Jaffa will be the best-equipped force this universe has ever seen before we are done!"
"My Lord Perun blessed be thy name!" Stephan chanted as a man possessed. The poor bastard had a religious experience right here on my damned floor.
"Get up, man!" I snapped at him. "I need you to pay attention. You're going to be damn busy turning my vision into reality."
"You honor me, my Lord Perun! I am yours to command unto death and beyond!"
He meant it. One of the ways the Goa'uld ensured the loyalty of their Jaffa, and got a sadistic kick of it, was to order them to suicide. Usually, but not always, they will then reward the dumb bastards with resurrection, thus cementing their faith and devotion.
It has been about a local year or so since Stephan here gleefully opened his stomach and bled to death in my throne room. The soldier in me wanted to scream at treating loyal troops that way. The Sith in me, couldn't help but appreciate the ruthless calculus behind the idea.
"First, we're going to ensure my Thunder Guards shape up. Then we'll use some of them as a cadre and trainers for the rest of the Jaffa!" I began outlining my preliminary plans for my ground forces, drawing on everything of use I could recall from three separate lives now. At the same time, I used the conversation to confirm I got Perun's memories straight. "How many guards do we have for training right now, and what facilities are available on short notice?"
"The full strength of your Thunder Guards awaits your command, Lord Perun! All three hundred of them!" Stephan quickly explained.
"Once trained up, they will be spread thin training the rest of the Jaffa, wouldn't they?" I fished for more information. Property be damned, I pulled my toga off and used it to get myself rid of the scented oils. My eyebrows twitched at recalling how Perun tended to break in his new hosts – by breaking in a bunch of new concubines until his stamina gave out.
The fact that those memories were now both enticing and infuriating served only to feed the Dark Side. By the Force, would I ever get some proper therapy? Perhaps invading, or at least raiding Earth for a therapist or ten might be a good idea?
I pushed those thoughts away and focused my mind on Stephan's words.
"Perhaps an expansion of the Thunder Guard might be in order, Divinity?" He warily asked.
I paused, reining in my temper and getting the Dark Side aura that did its best to freeze my First Prime under control.
"Don't mind me, Stephan. I'm not angry at you but at all the wasted time…" I shook my head. "The last I checked, we had the bulk of our forces concentrated on three worlds, with small detachments either stationed at or regularly patrolling the rest?"
"That is correct, my Lord! We've got fifteen thousand Jaffa stationed here on Slavna Zemq! Ten thousand guard Pobeda and the forges of Pirin!"
Those names stirred up my memories. Pobeda was a very nice agrarian world that was my domain's breadbasket. It was rich enough that most years we could sell a lot of food without getting my slaves starving. Pirin was my secondary industrial world, or what passed for one by Perun's low standards. There were various useful mines there, along with refineries and forges.
The rest of my domain were small settlements – four dedicated to farming and raising herds of animals for food and useful produce. The rest were mines – a small naquadah one, a bit larger trinium one, and a mix between precious metals and good, old-fashioned iron easy to get with primitive means.
To top it all out, I technically claimed an eleventh world, which had a single tiny village as its claim to fame.
In practice, there were small medieval kingdoms back on Earth, claiming more useful industry and population, discounting my few and relatively small modern fabricators.
"I want our outlying worlds prospected for anything useful away from the gates. The same goes for our three principal worlds, start with them," I noted and Stephan nodded so rapidly I was afraid his head might fall off.
"Status of the fleet?" If the infantry was a joke, armored forces non-existent, then the less said about the navy, the better. A Ha'tak's only real claim to fame was that it was an armed transport, able to smash primitives. The Death gliders were deathtraps meant to kill good pilots. At least the Al'kesh showed a modicum of promise.
It was too bad that I had too few of them.
"We have your pride, the blessed Leda, my Lord," Stephan began.
Translation – I was the proud owner of one fully operational armed transport.
"Five Cheops attack ships…"
Those were ancient glorified pleasure yachts with some guns and shields bolted on.
"And as of today, three full Al'kesh squadrons!" Stephan beamed at me.
A salvaged and rebuild older than dirt Al'kesh brought up their numbers to eighteen. A military power I was not. It was painfully obvious that Perun was even more delusional than I initially gave him credit for, and I was very liberal with it. God of war my ass.
I had my work cut off for me. Now that I knew what I had to work with, I needed to figure out if I had enough time to make any radical changes. I wracked my brain, thinking about Ra. That particular worthy was still alive as far as I knew. In a few months, the Supreme System Lord should leave to one of his yearly pleasure cruises. It was an unspoken tradition that Ra liked to travel over his domain to relax after dealing with the petty squabbles of the other System Lords. And considering he had been in charge for so long, make sure his underlings kept things running well enough to maintain his power base.
If I was right about that time frame, then I had at least a few months to get my house in order. It would be nice to only worry about the unlikely event of Kali breathing down my neck, or a particularly inventive Tok'Ra trying to kill me for showing sparks of competence. Fuck, the best way to figure when I was, in a frame of reference that mattered, would be to visit Earth. The issue with that plan was that I wasn't even sure I could find it on a galactic map, much less reach the place in any reasonable time frame.
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Part 3
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Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
Lyda of the Tok'Ra bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She kept chanting Perun's name and did her best to keep a wide grin on her face. Lyda had to keep selling the lie that she was a good little harmless minion. The reason she was here in the first place was as a safe assignment until her compatriots could insert her into the entourage of a dangerous Goa'uld, who had to be watched. To reach such a position, she needed a naquadah-proof backstory. Without one, the odds of ending up in a torture chamber increased significantly.
In contrast to most of their kind, Perun's brand of evil and oppression was small-scale. He was simply inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, no matter how vile that sorry excuse for a warrior was.
No one could have predicted how things could suddenly take turn for the worse. Lyda didn't know where Perun found himself a Hok'tar host, though she was certain that was no mere coincidence. There were two realistic options the Tok'Ra agent could see. One, this was a reward. That was a highly unlikely event, considering that Perun had been a sack of useless incompetence at best and that state of affairs had persisted for centuries if not millennia now. Second, and much, more likely, someone was using the dim-witted Goa'uld as a test subject.
The lighting produced by the new host was impressive. If it was an innate biological ability, then host and Goa'uld alike would never be disarmed – a good precaution against assassinations even at the best of times.
That by itself was bad enough, making any future assassination attempts against Goa'uld with such hosts that much more difficult. It was the boost of energy, or even worse, creativity that gripped Perun upon taking control and melding with the host. If Lyda didn't know better, she would bet that she now served a very different Goa'uld. Was this Perun of old, the man who could somewhat credibly claim to be master of war?
If that was the case, the Tok'Ra had to stop this new development before it could reshape the galaxy for the worse. To do that, Lyda had to figure out where this host came from, and who was behind this infernal scheme!
On the bright side, whatever now possessed Perun, he took care of the old creep of a High Priest. While a little consolation, Lyda was going to take all the good news she could get. A few fewer girls being raped tonight would surely be a boon, no matter how inconsequential compared to all the suffering happening all over the galaxy?
Lyda's host, Zena agreed, kind of. For once, the middle-aged woman got struck silent by the unexpected events. She even believed that Perun now might be a real god of thunder, the poor simple-minded thing. The Tok'Ra sighed in relief at being dismissed, ignored Zena's fretting, and quickly headed for her quarters. She wasn't going to risk being discovered during a lock-down. Instead, she had to calm down her host and come up with a plan of action before it was too late.
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Sensing the awe, fear, and utter blind devotion of my subjects, was a heady feeling. If I wasn't careful, I was going to go on the deep end in a way that wasn't funny.
In this particular case, those emotions came from a few of my subjects, aiding me in taking a bath. My attempts to get rid of all that damned oil by brushing it away with now ruined silk toga failed miserably. My… subjects, let's go with subjects instead of indoctrinated slaves, apparently knew what to do. I really shouldn't be complaining about getting a massage and a show from four sanctity-clad palace servants, all beautiful, young, and of the female persuasion. The bath, slash, massage, was relaxing, and educational. Whatever those oils were, getting rid of them required either technological means or rubbing them off with a soft sand-like reagent that was great at absorbing them, without abrading my skin. It went without saying what Perun preferred. Why he wanted his future hosts coated that way in the first place, I couldn't even begin to figure out, even if I had the madman's memories.
Now, don't get me wrong, if I was a randy teenager, this would be a dream come true. Instead, I was stuck both enjoying myself tremendously, and keeping myself from fully trampling what little morals I had left in the first place. I keenly recalled the brief period I was a slave, along with the memories of years of slavery before my reincarnation as a Force Adept and a Sith to be.
It was bad enough that I condoned slavery under the Sith Empire, because doing so was simply convenient, and not suicidal as going against the system without enough power would have been. Was I a hypocrite? The Dark Side ensured it, and even without it, I thought I was self-aware enough to admit it to myself if no one else.
The last time around, I did nothing against slavery unless it was convenient, or not too dangerous to yours truly. This time around? I knew what the right thing was. Yet the temptation, the sheer power of owning someone and holding their life in your hands? That was a drug to a Sith. Combine that with all the Goa'uld memories struck in my head? That first night it was all I could do not to drag one of the girls in my lap, push her wet clothes away and take advantage of her.
The only thing that kept me from doing so, was finding refugees in cold fury. All my achievements were wiped clean. A lifetime of struggles, gone. I was back at square one, or close enough to it, in a different, but no less dangerous galaxy. Friends, acquaintances, my wife? They were all gone, lost to me.
It was during that first night, in Perun's bath of all places, surrounded by servants, who in reality were little more than common slaves, that I got an epiphany. Without a goal, without something to keep me focused, I was going to succumb to Perun's memories and my Sith nature. If, or when that happened, the galaxy was going to burn.
And if that was the case, I might just set it on fire anyway, and burn out the rot that was the Goa'uld Empire with its abominable ways. It wasn't like I could do a much worse job than those things, right?
I groaned in pleasure as thin skilled fingers deftly massaged my back.
Fuck it, I needed to find a therapist before I went either full Sith or Goa'uld. That was how finding a way to raid Earth rose on my priority list.
=SBS=
A night of restless sleep followed, plagued by all kinds of odd dreams, or perhaps even visions. There was a war coming, though I wasn't sure if it was because Ra was about to get himself killed out of sheer arrogance, or one my overlords might push me into anyway.
For the record, I slept alone, to the disappointment of several concubines. The Stockholm Syndrome was reigning in strong in my palace, yay.
On a related topic, I still struggled in figuring out what kind of overlord I wanted to be. Besides better than the Goa'uld - that was a low bar to clear. Perhaps the lowest one in this whole galaxy.
It's funny you know? I was a monster, and I was at peace with that realization. I've burned worlds, destroyed whole civilizations fighting for a cause that was never mine. Because it was convenient because it was the safer option for me. And because few places felt more at home than a bloody battlefield. Say what you wish, but the bastards on Korriban who trained me knew what they were doing. After them, Baras and Zash merely completed the work and helped me damn myself.
The thing about being a monster? We could have standards, thank you very much.
I sat on my bed with my eyes closed, letting my mind slip over the surface of the Force. There were millions of people in this world, and they were my people. They would be the foundation of my future empire and my strength. I needed them to be loyal to me, no matter, if they believed that I was their god or that whole snake sham, fell apart. That meant I had to have standards, even if there was no one else to hold me up to them, because if I let myself slide down the slippery slope of indulgence? I wasn't sure I would be strong enough to climb back up.
It was a matter of pride in myself as a Sith, as a monster, a commander, and an accomplished killer.
=SBS=
Part 4
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Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
After a light breakfast, commissioning someone to make a decent window's knock-off rose there on my priority list. There was much more to be desired as far as user-friendliness went when Goa'uld computers and software were concerned. Depending on the timing, I might have to intervene on Earth, invest in tech industries for convenience sake, if nothing else. Then I would prove myself a real evil bastard by unleashing bootleg Windows on the unsuspecting galaxy. I was serious by the way – a proper tablet would have made my life much easier considering how much design work I had in front of me.
Perhaps raiding the labs of the few dedicated researchers doing odd, and quite useless things for me, might be in order? I shook my head in frustration and shoved that thought for later. I would spend most of the afternoon interviewing my chief minions, subverting or eliminating spies. When that was done, I would be helping myself to any useful equipment confiscated from subversive elements.
For the time being, I had to content myself with a stone tablet that had delusions of grandeur. Technology-wise, the damn thing was among the most powerful computers of similar size I've ever worked with. It was just that, the software options available were primitive compared to what I was accustomed to.
First things first – simple improvements that would act as the foundation of future development. Security of yours truly was on top of that list, which meant better training and equipment, first for my Thunder Guard, and then the regular Jaffa.
The staff everyone used as a primary armament were little more than ceremonial weapons meant to awe primitives with huge explosions. The firepower was nothing to scoff at. The fire rate, and accuracy for that matter, left a lot to be desired.
Point one on the equipment list was to get my hands on staff, open it up, then redesign it into a simple rifle. Step two would be marksmanship training. For step three, I had to find the time to write up a manual on small unit tactics. Step four - minor upgrades to weapons and armor with a large impact. Like rails to add additional equipment to the rifles, webbing to carry grenades, and useful devices like sensors and jammers.
Once those were ready, I would have a useful core of standard riflemen to build upon. Next, time and resources permitting, I would begin introducing specialized fire teams. A rapid-fire machine gun equivalent, a heavy weapons team using staff cannons, a support weapons team using simple mortars utilizing already available grenades.
When I had those in place as a standard across my Jaffa armies, it would be time to introduce further upgrades both for the infantry and a future armored arm of my ground forces. In that regard, I intended to keep things simple – a universal chassis to evolve from a simple troop carrier to a future AFV, tank, and anti-air platform.
I needed industry for that, so the general idea went on the to-do list on a separate stone tablet. The same was true about upgrading my small navy. Once again I needed industry and a functional R&D department, even though I jolted down a few simple upgrades that would be nice to have.
The industry was where I would either make it big, or everything would fall in flames around my ears. To sustain a modern industry, I needed an educated, self-sustaining population. That meant an uplift, which if mishandled would at best force me to flee. An educational program. A sanitation program. Hospitals. Those were among the fundamental building blocks of industry. Keeping people in love with their benevolent overlord, so even if they figure out I was no god, they would follow me anyway. That meant I needed a good propaganda machine, not just run-of-the-mill priests prone to abuse my people.
Clean up the rest of my clergy…
And all that was just the tip of the iceberg…
I put down the tablets, after making sure they were both shut down, and encrypted. The projects I had in mind weren't something I could achieve by myself. My first order of business had to be cleaning up house, and vetting down useful personnel. Realistically, the only way to significantly increase the speed of my plans would be to find allies, who could provide know-how, resources, and personnel.
Every advanced civilization in the galaxy knew not to trust my kind, for a good reason too. Further, contacting those at this time would risk early exposure. In the future, I would want to have intelligence agents embedded among them, feeding me all kinds of sweet and useful data. For that to be a concern, I would need a functional intelligence agency with properly trained agents – which was yet another thing I added to my to-do list.
Realistically, I had two options. The first one was particularly dangerous – engineer an alliance with the Tok'Ra by proving that was more similar to them than the Goa'uld at large. That would be easier said than done, and even at the best of time, they might decide that I am too dangerous to leave unchecked.
The other option was to bide my time, make sure Ra dies on Abydoss, and enter an alliance with Earth. Because, if Ra would be heading there this year, I simply didn't see myself finding enough time to build up before wars engulf the galaxy.
=SBS=
For regular humans, there isn't such a thing as real multi-tasking. It's rapid task-switching at best, and it usually comes around as increased stress and efficiency as a consequence. For a Force Adept? Multi-tasking was the difference between life and death. It was our bread and butter, made possible only because of the Force, and most useful when using the Force in multiple ways to augment ourselves during combat.
However, once honed, such skills aided in more mundane tasks. For example, I spent my first-afternoon ruling as Perun, between interviewing my closest staff in a quest to rid myself of incompetents, rooting out spies, and hopefully finding a gem or two in the rough. As if that wasn't enough, I had a disassembled staff weapon on my desk, I was working on. To top it all, I also did my best to figure out an infantry training manual, writing down ideas on a separate stone tablet.
There was a method to my madness. First, at best I didn't have enough time to spare, so cutting corners when I could simply be the price of doing work. Second, seeing me tinker, took aback everyone I interviewed, making them easier to read.
The Force helped, as I gleefully used it to cheat, read emotions and body language. If I noticed anything suspicious, I was ready to use more direct means to find out the truth.
So far, I figured out that my majordomo equivalent was a semi-retired agent of Kali, enjoying his twilight years at a reasonably safe, out-of-the-way post. He also made sure Perun's direct overlord would know if the former Goa'uld would get aspirations above his station.
Now, my majordomo was stuck in a cell, awaiting further attention. I intended to turn him soon and increase the odds of keeping Kali in the dark.
My treasurer turned out to be a corrupt bastard, something Perun suspected but didn't care about – that was a perk of the job you see… Needless to say, the treasurer was in a cell as well, answering pointed questions about how much he stole from me, and how my people could recover those assets. Once they got it done, I would be making a public example of that thief.
The fun thing about that mess, was his expression – his face was a picture of denial and disbelief, while my Jaffa dragged him out. I shook my head at the spectacle and turned my attention back to the staff weapon.
Its length wasn't entirely for show. It helped charge gas drawn from the atmosphere, increasing the striking power of the plasma bolt. Incidentally, the length did not correlate with the speed of the shot. That feature was governed by the four emitters at the firing end of the staff. They projected a magnetic containment field keeping the shot together. It was that device, which determined the range of the weapon as well. As soon as the magnetic field broke down, the plasma rapidly lost coherence and striking power before becoming useless for anything but starting fires.
In practical terms, for a minimal decrease in firepower, I could get a comfortable ergonomic design. Perhaps even slapping two modified staff weapons into a brace, making them fire in succession to increase the fire rate and effective striking power?
At any rate, I expected to have a prototype by tomorrow morning, then it would be up to my armorers to refine and build it.
A Jaffa led my next target for interrogation. That one was a Goa'uld inhabiting a young, raven-haired woman. She was a relatively new addition to Perun's court, and one of the few scientists he had working for him. That fool had her wasting her time designing a better king of close quarter weapons – knives, swords, and the like for use against uprisings or fun. The defining feature he wanted was to make death caused by such weapons both fast and as painful as possible. At least he wasn't quite as far gone as to want to cause pain to be a defining feature at the expense of killing power, though I wasn't ready to bet on how long that state of affairs might have persisted.
Perun's memories were a keen reminder of why one should never go full Sith or Goa'uld. It was never pretty.
"Lady Lyda," I focused my attention to the newcomer, who nervously curtsied. Outwardly, all she showed was the proper amount of deference and awe.
However, her emotions were very interesting and didn't match her mask at all.
=SBS=
Part 5
=SBS=
Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
The dissonance that I could experience from tasting Lyda's emotions was particularly interesting. In contrast, every other host I've met so far was for most practical intents and purposes, broken in mind to the point they were husks who had retreated from reality for good. And those were just the poor bastards infested by relatively young, harmless Goa'uld.
Even as an unstable Sith I could feel a pang of pity for the long-term hosts of System Lords and their ilk. There were fates much worse than death and those people had been suffering for hundreds if not thousands of years.
In contrast, Lyda's host was very much aware. If her emotions were anything to go by, she was kind of sane too. Lyda was either a very odd Goa'uld, or I had a Tok'Ra spy on my hands. Either option could prove useful, if in different ways.
I put down the magnetic field emitters of the disassembled staff weapon and gave my guest my full attention. For some odd reason, my happy smile further unnerved the woman, however, she didn't show it. The Goa'uld anyway. The host had the next best thing to a religious experience, making the blend of emotions an odd thing to sense.
"I should feel flattered, Lady Lyda. For a minor Goa'uld enjoying his life, I certainly have a lot of spies in my court. An agent or two of Lady Kali keeping an eye on me is only to be expected. You on the other hand…"
It was amusing to see her eyes widened in shock, though she shifted it quickly in vehement denial.
"My Lord Perun! I am loyal to your divine power! I am no spy!" I one smooth motion Lyda knelt on the floor, conveniently averting her face away from my sight.
"The hosts of even Goa'uld of your low station are broken wretched things. They're little more than mindless puppets. Yet, your host is in awe of my divine powers, while you, my dear…" I trailed off.
Lyda stiffened, and slowly rose to glare at me. Her eyes flashed with bio-electric energy supplied by the parasite.
"An uppity little thing, aren't you? Your hearts are an open book, my Lady. What do you think will take to crack your minds wide open, hmm?" As I spoke, I had to beat down an irrational spike of fury.
A lower-ranked Goa'uld didn't go around flashing their eyes like flashlights in front of their superiors. Something like that could be taken as an act of defiance, if not an outright challenge if someone felt like a bastard that day.
"What are you?" Lyda asked in a calm voice, projecting a level of nonchalance that she most definitely didn't feel.
At least, there was no trace of her fake deference. Fake or not, all the scraping and bowing got old quickly. It was a waste of time, besides I didn't need such displays to feed my ego.
I poked the former self-proclaimed god of thunder with the Force in just the right way, and my eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Your host is pretty sure I'm divinity, isn't she?" I spoke with all the amusing sound-effects Goa'uld used to awe primitive people. "Thunder and lighting are mine to command," The Force sang through me, eager to be utilized, and a thick bolt of crackling lightning danced between the open palms on my hands.
That display shook host and parasite alike, with the former almost losing it, despite the efforts of the snake possessing her. That was yet another religious experience I caused without even trying.
"I am the second Goa'uld in history with a credible claim to divine power, my Lady. The question is what are you?" I wasted no time and used the host's distraction to forcibly dive into her mind.
There were two common limitations in the so-called "Force Trick", or the much more advanced techniques to rip thoughts and memories from a person's mind. First, if they were strong-willed, or lucky enough to be from a select number of species with natural defenses, they could resist. Second, if you push through the resistance, you are going to cause a very visible, and distinct pattern of brain damage. While I haven't the time to test it, using a sarcophagus to heal a dead target of interrogation, so I could plunder their minds further at my leisure, might prove to be of great benefit.
Lyda, the snake, was a strong-willed creature. Her much younger superstitious host was a simple woman recruited from a stone-age village. Her will wasn't particularly strong, and her belief that I was divinity incarnate undermined any resistance she could have put on the best of days.
Various distorted pictures flashed in front of my eyes, plucked straight from Zena's mind – that was how the Host thought of herself as. Most memories to run in front of my mind were mundane, and of no consequence, until I saw a bunch of people arguing within a very distinct tunnel. I pushed at that image, using it as a focus, and soon more similar memories came to the forefront of Zena's mind, despite the furious struggle of the parasite.
I let go, and the two of them collapsed. Bright blood leaked from the nose and corners of Zena's ears, with Lyda doing her best to heal the damage.
"A Tok'Ra in my court. I am honored, little one," I smirked at my newest target for subversion. Using the Force, I pulled the women off their feet and carried them over my desk then deposited the blended pair at my feet. Fear and sheer incredulity surged from the terrified duo.
They expected either torture or summary brutal execution. Instead, I produced my hand device and put it on Zena's head. The fear they experienced at that point was delicious. It was almost as delicious as the stunned surprise when I used its healing option on them.
"We have a lot to discuss, Lyda of the Tok'Ra and Zena, of… whatever your primitive village is called," I smiled widely at the terrified and confused women. "I'm going make you an offer you couldn't possibly refuse…"
