About Three Years Later
Afternoon
That… Wasn't fun.
Goa'uld tend to be… Strong-willed and domineering. Fine. No one who poses as a god is going to be shy and retiring. But there's a difference between someone like Bastet, who is a pretty decent autocrat within the technological limits which goa'uld set for themselves, and Am-heh.
Am-heh is
not a good ruler.
Take criminal justice. On Bastet's throneworld Bubastis, most criminal investigations are handled by trained jaffa, and most punishments are corporal. Depending on the crime the perpetrator might be placed in the stocks or flogged. Murder, grave-robbing and corruption tend to result in execution by decapitation. Bastet actually gave me a lecture on the
Ma'at Code, and she has some pretty strong feelings on order and sanctity. She strongly encourages her underlords to use a similar system, and she appeared genuinely pleased when I asked if I could borrow some of her investigators to train my own.
It was the most unguarded response I've seen from her.
On Syrania I've moved things away from floggings in favour of penal labour, but we don't really have the infrastructure for 'modern' rehabilitation. And… I'm reminded of the Tom Strong comic where he first leaves the island where he was born. For a moment he's surprised that a criminal subculture exists, but then he thinks about it and realises that it's a viable way to make a living in a city. Unlike the small island where he grew up and everyone knows everyone else and there isn't that much property to steal anyway. We just don't have a lot of crime.
Am-heh appears to consider it a bad day if he hasn't been able to throw a dozen people in the rock crusher. The slightest offence, the slightest step out of line, and he will gladly burn out the poor unfortunate's central nervous system with his
kara kesh. Something I personally watched after a server failed to maintain his calm when Am-heh looked at him. The city-. Or rather, the town where he maintains his palace was liberally decorated with impaled and crucified corpses and the people moved like automatons when in public, afraid to look aside in case that was taken as cause for offence.
He actually required that I walk to his capital from the stargate without
any retinue at all, and I suspect that it was only Bastet's letter of introduction that saved me from a strip search at the hands of his jaffa. But… The trip was…
Technically successful. I now have a 'known' source for naquada, in exchange for supplying his desolate wasteland of a home with part of the food they require just to live here.
I didn't dare risk offering him better mining tools.
The village nearest the stargate is a
little more upbeat than his captial, at least as long as I stop my eyes from glowing too much. They frequently receive trade caravans through the gate, and as a result they are a little more personable and a bit less… A bit less beaten. They still make themselves scarce when the jaffa garrison show up to escort a convoy to the capital, and…
And… I… Know perfectly well that I could kill Am-heh. I have a power ring, after all. I could
probably ram my way through his defences, and if that was a bit too direct I could shoot him with an energy bolt on one of his few public appearances. But that would alert Bastet, and… She knows where Syrania is. Well, she knows the stargate address. It might take her a while to locate it with ships, but those symbols are constellations and I've seen her star charts. She
definitely has the ability to narrow down my location enough to send a fleet.
Or should I..?
Ask her? Is that how it works? Get permission from the System Lord to deal with an underlord who they aren't keen on? He's got a decent fleet and he's her empire's main source of naquada, which I imagine is why she hasn't forced the issue so far. Suppressing technology is one thing, but refusing to implement your boss's social policy and providing them with less tribute as a result might be more significant. I don't-.
I stop, blinking. Then I
don't look at the group of four robe-wearing travellers I just walked past. Instead, I walk over to a stall selling some sort of fried tuber and
focus.
Glasses
do exist in Bastet's domain, but they're not common and a travelling merchant wouldn't wear them out in the open unless he was nearly blind. Two people with glasses, one of them a woman? And from the way they were looking around, they aren't frequent visitors.
Scan, and hope I'm about to get lucky.
Yes. Thank you,
Jim diGriz.
I pay for the nearly-chips and turn away from the stall, heading towards the out of place visitors at a quick walk.
"Excuse me!"
Two turn, one glances at me and then looks around and the last keeps looking in the direction he had been heading in.
"Are you, er…" The closest man points to himself. "Talking to us?"
"Yes! I was hoping to speak to you about-."
"Look." The man who didn't turn around does so now, facing me. "Whatever you're selling, we're not buying it. We're just getting the lay of the land. So if you'll excuse us?"
"Funny thing, about people from industrial worlds." He remains where he is. "When they start burning coal in large quantities, quite a lot of radioactive material gets released. It's not to
dangerous degrees, but it
is noticeable."
"Oh?"
I take a step closer and lower my voice. "And if they've actually used fission weapons in their atmosphere, it's more noticeable still." The woman works out what I'm implying first, and glances at the… Well, he's a squad leader, isn't he?
"That sounds interesting." He doesn't seem concerned. "That sounds like an advanced weapon."
I nod. "Quite hard to make."
"Do you think a society like that would have
other advanced weapons as well?"
"Probably."
"So do you think that bothering someone
from a society like that might not be the best idea?"
Right. He has no reason to think that I am who I am. But-. Happy as I am to see them I don't know for sure that they come from Earth as opposed to a different advanced human world. The goa'uld don't rule
everywhere that humans live, after all. And if they're committed to being unfriendly then I don't really want them to know who and what I am, because what they don't know they
can't share. I've got a…
Feeling that the secretive parts of the government are just going to want to come and take my planet away from me, and that's… Not acceptable. So… Goa'uld reformer? That will do for now.
I
flare my eyes.
"I'd live. Look-."
Three guns come up from under their robes, while the woman backs off before belatedly drawing her pistol as the travellers around us scatter, stall-holders duck and shop-keepers close their doors. I think I… Vaguely recognise those guns from Earth, but-. Ring,
translation off.
"Still think you'd live?"
I know that accent. I glance in the general direction of the gate. "Given that I have a personal force field? Yes. Do you think that
you would if the garrison heard you firing those? Am-heh is one of the few gods who actually guards his gate."
"What d'you want?"
"A private conversation on my own world. Then you're free to return to…" Another smile from me, but this time a little more sinister. "Whatever part of the United States of America you come from."
Because the chance of a group of people speaking modern English
not coming from Earth is so small I don't know how to calculate it. Modern English only goes back a few hundred years before the thees and thous start creeping in, and American accents have only existed for… Three hundred years or so?
The leader's eyes narrow, but he lowers his gun, which prompts the others to do the same. Because me knowing
that name is a bigger deal than spotting them. Ultimately, if they die then all that happens is that this planet would get marked down as 'dangerous' by whatever part of the US military is carrying out this exploration program. But if someone out here has a way of getting information on Earth, that might mean that Earth is in danger.
They
need to investigate.
I half-turn away and raise my right hand, waving it at the people watching us from their places of shelter. "Just a misunderstanding! Just a misunderstanding! Nothing to worry about!"
I'm not sure that they believe me, but the soldiers hide their weapons again. One of them leans a little closer to the squad leader. "Sir, if we're going, we should go."
The squad leader considers me for a moment. "Yeah. Lead the way."
