Sobek slowly stirred from the sleep chamber, the rejuvenating technology leaving him feeling oddly refreshed, yet distant. His mind, while sharper, was tinged with an unfamiliar sense of detachment. The Goa'uld technology was a marvel, but as he flexed his fingers and took in a deep breath, he could feel it, a subtle weight on his thoughts. It wasn’t something that had occurred to him before, but now it was unmistakable. There was a strange dissonance between his physical body and the mental clarity he had once possessed.
He could feel the primal edges of his self-control slipping, as though something inside him was being numbed, dulled. It wasn’t overpowering, but the sense that his instinctive response to situations—the one that had kept him grounded as a human—was slipping away made him uneasy.
When he arrived at Vulcan IV, he would have to order his engineers to study this effect, he thought. It was important that he retain some measure of control over himself, his human instincts, particularly now that he had a new world to oversee. If the Goa'uld rejuvenation technology was clouding his mind, he needed to understand how and why. Despite his new power, Sobek still wanted to remain connected to his humanity, to be able to assess the rise of humanity in this new life of his. He couldn’t risk losing that part of himself—not when it could be the key to his survival when the Goa'uld empire began its inevitable decline.
With a final stretch, Sobek rose from the chamber, pulling on the robes that had been neatly set out for him by his attendants. Hana, the slave whose name he had already learned, was waiting for him, her dark eyes carefully avoiding his as she finished adjusting the intricate folds of his garment. The other girl—whose name he had yet to inquire about—was standing by quietly, just as she always did. She wore an expression of both servitude and curiosity, never quite daring to make eye contact.
He found it amusing. To them, he was a god, and yet they still wore the air of quiet mystery, as if they could not fully comprehend the being they served.
“Get ready,” Sobek commanded, his voice carrying authority. “You will accompany me.”
Hana gave a soft nod, and the other girl did the same.
They left the chamber together, making their way down the dimly lit corridors of the ship, toward the massive dock that would carry them to his new home on Vulcan IV. His first batch of slaves, along with the regiments of soldiers and all necessary provisions, had been prepared. Everything had been set in motion, and the planet was waiting. Vulcan IV, he had decided to call it, a name inspired by his previous life, a trace of his nerdy past sneaking into the present. The name, of course, was an ironic choice for a desert world with towering mountains, but he couldn’t help himself.
As they walked, Sobek’s mind drifted to a memory from years ago. He had been standing in line at a sci-fi convention, dressed as an sith lord from star wars. Being a Goa’uld wasn’t his first choice, but so far he wasn’t disliking it despite a small part of his previous life making him hesitate about the whole…mass slavery thing. He remembered laughing with a group of fellow fans, marveling at the creativity and camaraderie that defined the event. Back then, the humanity in each person had been so vibrant, so easily recognizable. Now, as he glanced at Hana and the other attendants, he struggled to see them as more than tools, their individuality obscured by his growing detachment. The memory faded, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.
The ship was a sight to behold—a massive, pyramid-shaped structure, gleaming with the distinctive Goa'uld beauty. Even the ships of the Goa'uld were works of art. Their hulls shone like obsidian, the lines clean and majestic. The attention to detail was evident, as if the Goa'uld had found a way to make every inch of their technology not just functional, but compelling to the eye. Sobek couldn’t help but admire it, even as his mind turned toward more practical matters.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
The dock itself was a marvel of Goa'uld engineering, massive and spacious enough to accommodate the ship’s colossal frame. His regiments and slaves were ready, their movements coordinated in perfect sync as they began boarding the ship. Sobek's entourage of lower-ranking Goa'uld moved swiftly to their various stations, each assuming their assigned role with a practiced air. They were easy to distinguish from Sobek himself. Their garments were simpler, adorned with fewer embellishments, and their postures were less confident. Their faces bore a mix of deference and resentment, a clear reminder of their subservient status. Sobek noted the subtle glances they exchanged, the way they avoided meeting his eyes directly. They were Goa'uld, yes, but of a caste far below him.
It was time.
The final preparations were complete. Sobek ascended the platform toward the throne at the heart of the ship. It was a sleek, elevated structure that had been custom designed to reflect his newfound position. The seat was made of polished black stone, adorned with gold accents and intricate carvings, a throne that exuded both luxury and power.
Before sitting down, he cast one last glance around the dock, his eyes finding Hathor standing at the entrance. Her regal figure loomed in the doorway, her eyes piercing through the space between them.
Sobek stepped forward, his posture still regal, despite the slight unease that tugged at him. Hathor smiled, her lips curling into a knowing expression.
“Remember, Sobek,” she said, her voice smooth like silk. “Contact me once you have arrived. I want updates on your progress.”
“Of course,” Sobek replied, tilting his head. “Your wisdom has guided me this far. I will ensure you remain informed.” Even though this wasn’t technically true it was important to keep Hathor pleased with his loyalty and ensure she doesn’t feel his intentions are harmful to her. In the world of the Goa’uld betrayals were a dime a dozen. He couldn’t give her a reason to be suspect him.
Hathor stepped closer, her gaze never wavering. “You are ambitious, Sobek. Do not let it blind you. Ambition must be tempered with patience, or it will lead to ruin.”
“I understand,” Sobek said, his tone steady. “And I will not forget your counsel.”
Hathor studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Good. The galaxy is vast, and your potential is great. Do not squander it.”
With a final bow to Hathor, Sobek turned away, walking toward the throne at the center of the ship. The doors to the bridge slid shut behind him, and as he took his seat, a sense of finality washed over him. His fate was in his hands now.
"Prepare for departure," Sobek ordered, his voice carrying the weight of command. The lower-ranking Goa'uld on the ship went about their tasks with precision, adjusting controls and ensuring the systems were in optimal condition.
The ship's massive engines hummed to life, the roar of power filling the chamber as the docking bay began to close. The atmosphere of the planet receded as the ship slowly rose from the surface, heading toward the infinite blackness of space. Sobek allowed himself a moment to look out at the changing landscape as the ship ascended. The atmosphere became a fading memory, replaced by the expanse of the stars.
As the ship left the planet’s orbit, Sobek leaned back in his throne, the vastness of the universe spread out before him. There was no going back now. He was leaving everything behind—his past, his uncertainties, and his fear. His mind began to focus on what lay ahead: Vulcan IV, the planet he would rule, the future he would forge. He was the master of his destiny, and no one—not even the system lords—would make him bend to their will.
Two weeks. That was all the time it would take to reach Vulcan IV.
And when he arrived, he would not only begin his rule, but he would lay the groundwork for the rise of something new. Something more than the Goa'uld.
Sobek stared out into the darkness, determined. No one would make him join the ranks of the defeated. He would not end up like the majority of the system lords who were inevitably destroyed by their own hubris. He had a plan, and he would execute it.
