The city of Sobeka rose like a beacon of progress amidst the rugged terrain of Vulcan IV. Towering aqueducts, their stone arches gleaming in the sunlight, carried fresh water from the mountain streams to the heart of the city. The streets below were a hive of activity, filled with laborers, merchants, and Jaffa warriors moving with purpose. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and the hum of machinery, a testament to the city's rapid development.
Sobek walked through the bustling streets, his entourage trailing behind him like a shadow. The laborers paused in their work, bowing deeply as he passed, their faces a mixture of fear and reverence. Sobek acknowledged them with a nod, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the city's progress. The hybrid of ancient wisdom and futuristic technology was a sight to behold—stone buildings adorned with glowing naquadah veins, and factories powered by advanced energy systems.
The Goa’uld Empire was vast and powerful, yet its infrastructure was woefully inefficient. The reliance on slaves for labor stifled progress and innovation, and the rigid caste system bred stagnation. Sobek knew that if he were to carve out his own empire, he would need to reshape the very foundation of Goa’uld rule. His mind turned to the reforms he had already begun implementing, small changes that would ripple into something greater.
His chief engineer, Haakja, had made significant progress in weapons development. As Sobek reached the engineering workshop, he found Haakja polishing a prototype weapon. The engineer’s face lit up with a hint of pride as he lifted the weapon for Sobek to inspect. It was a marvel of design, aesthetically in line with traditional Goa’uld weaponry but with a sleek, modern twist. The weapon’s head resembled a cobra, its open maw revealing two sharp fangs for close combat. A red laser sight gleamed in one of the serpent’s eyes, providing precise targeting. The grip underneath was ergonomic, and the weapon’s length was roughly that of Sobek’s arm. It was smaller than a traditional staff weapon, powered by small canisters of stored energy.
“This is impressive, Haakja,” Sobek said, his voice low and measured. “But what of the ammunition? Have you determined a viable energy source?”
Haakja’s expression faltered slightly. “My lord, the design is sound, but we are still researching a stable and abundant energy source. Naquadah is too rare and intensive for mass production. We need something… simpler.”
Sobek nodded, his mind racing. He had been inspired, in part, by the energy weapons of Star Wars from his previous life. If this universe shared similar tropes, perhaps some of that technology could overlap. He tried to recall what powered blasters in that galaxy far, far away—tibanna gas, if he remembered correctly. But such knowledge was useless without the means to replicate it here.
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“Continue your research,” Sobek said finally. “This weapon could be the key to our success, but it must be practical. We cannot afford to rely on naquadah alone.”
Haakja bowed deeply. “As you command, my lord.”
Leaving the workshop, Sobek was flanked by his two attendants, Hana and Karri. As they walked through the city, his frustration grew. The Goa’uld had become complacent, clinging to outdated traditions that left them vulnerable. The Jaffa uprising had proven that much. If Sobek was to thrive, he needed to build something different—something stronger. A more structured religious institution would reinforce loyalty, and the development of beta Goa’uld larvae for non-Jaffa slaves could create a new class of loyal warriors. And above all, his military doctrine had to evolve. The Tau’ri, the Aschen, the Tollan, and the Free Jaffa Nation were all rising threats. Adaptation was the key to survival.
Karri watched Sobek closely, noting the tension in his posture. She had been born into servitude under Mistress Hathor, her life one of quiet obscurity. None of the Goa’uld had ever known her name, nor had they cared to. But Sobek was different. He saw potential where others saw only expendable tools. Under his rule, she had found something she had never known before: purpose.
She had met Hana soon after entering Sobek’s service, and the two had quickly formed a bond as close as sisters. Hana was bolder and more vocal, her fiery spirit a perfect complement to Karri’s quiet determination. Together, they had sworn to serve Sobek not just as attendants, but as allies in his quest for greatness.
As they reached Sobek’s private chamber, he turned to his attendants. “Leave me,” he said, his voice weary but firm. “I must rest.”
Hana and Karri bowed deeply, their eyes lingering on Sobek as the lid of the sarcophagus closed with a soft hiss. Once outside, Karri turned to Hana, her expression determined.
“We must do more for him,” Karri said, her voice low but urgent. “The other slaves are content to serve, but we… we can be more. We must anticipate his needs before he even realizes them.”
Hana nodded, her eyes narrowing with resolve. “The battles between the gods are stirring. If we are to help Lord Sobek overcome the others, we must be prepared. We cannot afford to be ignorant or passive.”
Karri hesitated, then spoke again. “Mistress Hathor could help us. She is powerful and has resources we lack. But approaching her is risky. If Sobek discovers our actions…”
Hana met Karri’s gaze, her expression unwavering. “We have no choice. If we are to serve him truly, we must take risks. For his sake—and ours.”
The two women exchanged a final glance before walking away, their minds racing with plans and possibilities. The night was still young, and the future was uncertain. But one thing was clear: they would do whatever it took to ensure Sobek’s rise to power.
