StarDestroyer.Net BBS

holyknight wrote:

[R_H] wrote:Man, the Draka sure demilitarised quickly after the Final War. Are the ghouloons capable of procreating amongst themselves, or all of them grown in labs?

Yeah. But they are now re-militarising as quickly now, as now there its a big wide galaxy to put under the Yokel. Methinks that it will given a big incentive to the remaining normal population of the Domination to start having Drakensis children on healthy amounts, in order to ensure many generations of Draka for the coming wars.....

And to colonise new planets.

The ghouloons can reproduce sexually but I take it that mass production's done in artificial wombs with an accelerated development.
And demography-wise I was intending to slip a reference to higher Citizen birthrates. They would certainly do their "duty to the Race", of course it's easier when it's serfs doing most of the work.
After the Final War the Drakas didn't expect aliens from outer space swinging by, so it makes sense that they would focus on reconstruction rather than building heavy military hardware, especially after the first years, once they had a firm foothold in America and the whole pacification campaign turned into a protracted mop-up operation.


xxxx

Deeper into the city rolled the Draka armored vehicles, leaving a trail of dead Jaffas and townsfolk although the former weren’t as numerous as one would have expected. It seemed that Tanith really had marshalled his forces for the invasion of Nautona. Therefore, the Cohortarch in charge of the mechanized assault almost hoped there would be more resistance as they closed with the palace.
The streets grew narrower for a while after they crossed the river. Thankfully, the massive stone bridge took the load without a hitch, but given the size of its arches, it wasn’t surprising. On the other hand, the wooden links crossing the river at distant intervals were intended for pedestrians and the officer suspected that trying to drive even a Phalanx over those would have ended in an impromptu test of their fording capability.
He was riding at the back of the column, his head and upper torso poking out of the vehicle commander’s hatch, just ahead of the small turret and behind the driver’s position on the left with the cable cutter right in front. The seemingly unimportant addition had saved many an embarked soldier from the classic monowire traps used by bushmen in North America.
The 40 mm gun on his right had stayed silent so far owing to the lack of targets. Tests on Earth had found it to be lethal against Death Gliders and Udajeets. It was a good insurance policy, but everyone counted on the Tollan fleet to keep those busy.

Inside the palace, Goa’uld and Jaffas were busy trying to make sense of what was happening. A few minutes before, an alert had come from the Chappai guard indicating they were under attack… then nothing, except a couple of house servants running in to tell about the loud noises that came from the western bank. The Tollan fleet was still far away, so it had to be a ground assault and so far the Tollans hadn’t impressed in that regard. Besides, the whole region was covered by the phase disruptor field installed in a basement of the governor building.
Kopros was rather irritated. This wasn’t supposed to happen ! And why couldn’t the stupid Jaffas deal with it ? It was time to assert his godly dominance.
“Jaffa !” his eyes flashed imperiously as the gathered warriors stared at him “The sacred Chappai cannot be left under the blasphemers’ control ! Every second their foul stench taints the soil of Atheros is a sin against the Gods !” He paused, eyeing each Jaffa directly, one after the other, then went on, addressing the senior Prime. “The palace guard will sortie and fight the invaders. The Tollan can’t be too many or too far from the pyramid. Kill them or take prisoners, but retake the Chappai at all costs !”
The Jaffa bowed gravely, his face grim. “It will be done, my Lord !”

Five minutes later, the bulk of the guard force was assembled inside the wide fore court, overlooked by the three-story facade running with its pastel stones and graceful statues interspersed with gilded decorative pillars. Carefully raked gravel covered the vast yard with the exception of the stone-paved path running down the middle and connecting the building’s main entrance to the massive gates of bronze-reinforced timber piercing the seven meter high peripheral wall surrounding the palatial complex and keeping the populace separated from their betters. Monumental statues of white marble lined the path on each side, four pairs of them depicting the god Tanith in various poses and outfits. One day, Kopros secretly hoped, those would be statues of himself.
The Governor’s residence wasn’t built as a fortress but as an administrative center and a parade of wealth. Its defensive features essentially consisted in the sturdy exterior wall and the shielded plasma towers placed at each corner with plunging fields of fire down on each side of the rectangular perimeter. Those were deemed more than enough protection against civilian riots. Besides, nobody had tried to attack the planet ever since Tanith had conquered it.

Two hundred Jaffa warriors stood in neat lines while the solid bulk of Merr’tak, their trusted officer, gave them a vey short speech.
“Jaffas ! Today we’ll crush the puny Tollan blasphemers who dare defile our sacred soil ! Let it not be said that our comrades on Nautona will have alone reaped glory in combat ! Kree !”
“KREE !” the rest bellowed in unison, then promptly fell into a column, four-abreast in order to march through the exterior gates. Merr’tak watched them with pride as they repeated the oft-practiced maneuver, all strong warriors in neatly-maintained and polished armor as befitted their honorific posting. Then the two metal and wood panels cracked open rather ponderously and the little army shook itself into a brisk marching rate with proud mechanical precision.
The first ones emerged into the street outside to find it empty of its civilians, not too unsurprisingly. Nothing else seemed amiss, but then the sprawling houses and shops prevented the warriors from seeing much in any direction other than the two ends of the palace wall, whereupon the street resumed its anarchical turning and twisting.
The booming in the distance had abated by now, and the whole area sounded unnaturally quiet.
Merr’tak spared a couple seconds reflecting that the townsfolk should have been prevented from building their houses so close to the palace. Once this was over, he would strongly suggest that the whole district around the perimeter be levelled and kept empty to prevent any hostile force from approaching so closely.


“I hate this, we could stumble upon a barricade behind one of those corners with no time to react in advance…” the commander of the lead Hond commented to his gunner. Their advance was slowed down by the narrower and winding streets. More than once the vehicles had scraped against the surrounding walls, drawing sparks from stone, dislodging wooden frames and gouging packed-earth surfaces.
“I’m nearly shitting myself thinking what some Yank bushmen could do if they were here with man-portable missiles instead of those stupid medieval Jaffas” the gunner replied without interrupting his constant visual scan of the tactical picture as it was displayed on the crew compartment’s all-enveloping bubble-screen.
“Thank Naldorssen’s icy ass those Goa’uld apparently never heard of armored warfare”
“Well they’ve got those big-ass starships… ENEMY PERSONNEL, UP FRONT, TARGET !” he ended yelling as the deftly piloted tank rounded another corner and came in view of Merr’Tak’s men, barely fourty meters ahead as they jogged down the palace’s front-street.
The crewman reacted with preternaturally fast reflexes, even though he was Old Draka like most of the Heavy Armor veterans. His fingers danced on the controls and the tank’s secondary armament spat a hail of metal downstream, where it impacted the front Jaffa ranks with devastating results. He heard his commander rattle a situation report on the radio and the metal beast lurched forward as its driver enthusistically pushed the steering stick to the stops and lifted the dozer blade attachment to its uppermost position.

Outside, the warriors spared by the initial barrage or merely wounded and still conscious watched with gaping frozen eyes as the unholy mechanical monster seemed to launch itself at them, then the valid turned tail and ran, leaving the crippled screaming in the face of their incoming doom.
As the tank rushed forward like a pouncing cheetah, grinding the dead and wounded to paste beneath its wide treads, the living fled up the street and back through the gate, though not quickly enough for a dozen stragglers who were caught by the flat metal blade and bowled aside, crushed between the tank’s hull and the stone wall or simply disappeared under the treads.
The Hond continued to sweep up the passage, past the frantically closing door panels, and began to slow down as it came to the end of the straight section, leaving behind a trail of broken limbs and spilt entrails.
Right then, the stunned Jaffa gunners manning the corner towers snapped out of their shock-induced transe and the farthest one opened fire as it could depress enough to aim at the distant killer.
The bolt of plasma flashed down and away, clipping the tank’s rear deck and blowing up some of the add-on armor blocks. Another followed a second later, hitting the turret roof and blasting the grenade launcher. Secondary explosions, like big firecrackers, came from the ready ammunition box as the stored projectiles cooked off.
Before the Jaffa gunner could aim a third shot, the tank’s countermeasure array coughed aloud and a wall of obscuring smoke blossomed in mid-air, cutting the machine from visual observation.

And the second tank came into view and stopped where its predecessor had first fired upon the Jaffa infantry. From this position, the southernmost tower sat within the elevation angle of its main gun. The turret rotated slightly and the metal tube rose up, lining with the target. An instant later the powerful weapon spoke. Travel time was virtually instantaneous for the HEAT round and the large shell impacted the protective shield square on. While its designers never had forcefields in mind when they developed the ETC cannon and its ammunition, it nevertheless proved itself against the immaterial wall just as well as if it were a tangible plate of armor material.
In fact, the energy of the first tandem shaped charge destabillized the field locally, punching a small hole into which the follow-up jet of liquid-like metal streamed through.
The forcefield wasn’t totally useless : it behaved like the external plate of a spaced protection scheme. Had there been actual armor behind, the expanding dart would have mostly wasted itself on it. Alas, the Goa’uld designers had been a little too optimistic and left the gunner basically unprotected in an open frame. Therefore the unlucky Jaffa was sprayed with a shower of very fast red-hot copper that flayed the flesh from his bones. He died seconds later, mercifully unconscious from the sheer shock.

At the other end of the wall, his comrade tried to aim at the new hostile machine and let a stream of vile cursing when he found the staff cannon couldn’t depress enough. He was spouting insanities when the first Hond emerged from its cloud, having completed a neat U-turn in the cramped area, albeit with some collateral damage. While the palace wall was made of solid stone, the houses across the street weren’t and a tank reversing into them wasn’t something they were built to resist. The two-story wood and earth house had collapsed as the vehicle extracted its rear end from it, killing the two families who used to dwell in.
The Draka gunner fired once, and the distracted Jaffa operator died in the same manner as his brother. To top it off, two missiles streaked in from the direction of the stargate and blew off the remaining staff towers, cued in by the drone flying overhead.
As the four tanks maneuvered into overwatch positions at the corners of the perimeter, their accompanying infantry disembarked from the parked Phalanxes, muttering obscenities as they walked ankle-deep in the fresh offal smearing the street, and the point squad placed explosive charges on the great doors.

A minute later, the demolition packages were activated and a deep rumbling boom resonated in the besieged city block. The directed blast showered the inner courtyard with jagged wooden shards and metallic shrapnel, denting the surface of the closest statues and shattering an extended marble arm. Nevertheless, the sculptures’ ordeal protected the surviving Jaffas who had taken positions behind their bulk, and allowed them to pour plasma fire into the forcefully created opening in the hope of stemming the attacking tide that would be following.
Two soldiers were cut down by the withering fire as they tried to charge into the passage, the sheer weight of fire punching through the resilient cermet armor before they could cross the short distance under the tall porch. They dropped down on the stone floor, biting back the flaring pain of burnt flesh and broken bones, their enhanced physiology allowing them to stay conscious even as damaged vital organs failed abruptly. Immediatey after, a pair of grenades were lobbed around the corner sailed above the wounded soldiers and rolled close to the first pair of statues. A thick grey smoke poured out of the devices, obscuring the Jaffas’ sight who nevertheless kept on firing blindly in the direction of the portal.

There was a short succession of loud pops which, although they didn’t knew it, were the sound produced by a hand-held grenade launcher as its Draka operator emptied its six-shot magazine into the passage, keeping his own body sheltered by the stone corner and relying on the sight picture repeated on his helmet display. The six projectiles crossed the short interval in the blink of an eye, their ballistic trajectory passing right between the sculpted pairs, and detonated at the distance programmed into their fuse. The grenade salvo produced a pattern of killing metal flechettes that tore into the huddled Jaffas, ignoring their protective mail and shredding their flesh.
As the plasma outpour suddenly abated, more Draka soldiers charged in tactical stance and spread into the courtyard, shooting the handful of Jaffas who were still moving, unimpeded by the smoke screen thanks to their own infrared sights.
More troopers filed in as the enclosure was secured, bringing more breaching charges to be used against the palace entrance.


Inside the lavishly decorated building, the Governor of Atheros shook himself from his stunned state. Thanks to the unobtrusive sensor feeds dotting the whole edifice, he was able to witness the appalling slaughter of his guards. Part of him was fascinated by the efficient brutality of the attackers, who didn’t look like Tollans at all and used strange and loud but wickedly effective weapons.
But he was a Goa’uld first and foremost even if his options were limited. There weren’t many Jaffas remaining and by the look of things they wouldn’t last long trying to oppose the invaders. Another explosion, muffled by the distance and the intervening walls, reinforced the urgency of the situation.
He acted quickly. First he sent a brief subspace distress call which Tanith would hopefully pick up, then locked the palace’s computer system using a DNA-based encryption key. This he hoped, would prevent the attackers from easily seizing control of the whole Goa’uld infrastructure on the planet. His duty fulfilled, it was time to think about short term survival.

Satrian Outskirts
Nautona, Tollan Empire


As days passed by under Goa’uld occupation, the once-proud planetary capital looked more and more like a ghost city. The Jaffa legions had been roaming its streets and thoroughfares, searching its houses and buildings, and rounding up every Tollan civilian they could find.
Anyone found in possession of a weapon or deemed remotely dangerous was shot at once and the badly burnt corpses were left exposed as a warning to any soul brave or folish enough to contemplate resisting.
Looting was somewhat limited. Tanith had given very strict orders in that regard : any piece of Tollan magic -that is, any technological device- had to be left alone for examination by proper Goa’uld personnel. The Jaffas had to be kept ignorant of the true nature of their leaders’ superiority or the whole “Gods” scam would be uncovered. Fortunately, they were very effectively brainwashed and most were eager to destroy any trace of “the blasphemers’ sorcery” as they called it.
More than once some particularly hot-headed warrior had to be prevented from torching the house he was searching, incensed by the insolent presence of devices as mundane as a networked fridge speaking aloud the remaining amount of groceries, or an holotainment center. It was all sorcery to them, and the proper way to dispose of witchery was cleansing fire, as every civilization around the galaxy knew.

Naturally, the Jaffas weren’t prevented from venting their anger on the captives as long as they kept the most valuable ones intact. By the second night of the Goa’uld occupation, there was scarcely a reasonably attractive female, and few attractive young males, who had been spared repeated raping, with the only exception of young, virgin and pretty girls, and that was but a temporary respite for their untouched state would bring much higher prices on the slave markets.
Yet the initial frenzy of raping and looting was starting to wind down. Captives were regrouped and triaged by sex, age and quality, kept in makeshift pens in the outskirts of the city under the looming shadow of the hovering Ha’taks. More arrived every hour as the planet’s remaining towns and cities were invested and conquered, although the majority of the newly captured Tollans were kept on site. After all, there would be a lot of hard work to do. A few villages had already gone up in flames, the quickest way to demolish them, and chain gangs of captured Nautonans were beginning to clear the burnt rubble under the watchful eyes of Jaffa guards.
Tanith expected the mopping up to take several months of hard labor. The Tollan men would be driven to exhaustion and death, since he didn’t expect them to accept the new state of affairs. While arrogant, the Goa’uld conqueror didn’t delude himself into believing that this highly technological people would ever accept his rule. Those men would remain a potential threat of rebellion as long as they lived. They simply knew too much.
Mass executions, while the most straightforward way to dispose of the problem, had the inconvenient of being wasteful. It was much better practice to expend them in constructive (or, in this case, destructive) ways instead.

As things generally quieted down and the Tollan counteroffensive didn’t happen, Tanith found himself touring his new dominion. Nautona was a pleasant world, kept generally clean and pristine (something he granted the Tollans) and several locations would be great places to construct magnificient palaces. Especially those tropical islands in the South. It wasn’t something many of his fellow Goa’uld knew, but he loved swimming in crystal-clear, warm water with a lovely background of fine white sand and green trees. It was a pity that Nautona didn’t have those tall spindly palm trees that produced big, hard-shelled fruits with the sweet nectar inside. He would definitely introduce those later.
In the meantime, he flew from location to location aboard his lavishly furnished personal Tel’Tak, a one-of-a-kind model with improved engines, cloaking field and shield. He didn’t have to worry about guards : every destination was already secured by Jaffa forces, and he was only accompanied by a pair of personal servants. After all, a god didn’t refill his cup by himself !
He was only five minutes away from his next stop, a particularly picturesque little town perched among mountains close to a gigantic glacier. His ship’s sensors were showing a magnified picture, and the self-proclaimed god was trying to decide just where the best place would be to emplace the shining gold-plated pyramid temple he envisioned. Maybe that hillock over there…? Those timber dwellings would have to go anyway.
Tanith was opening his mouth for the brunette attendant to gracefully deposit a ruby-red grape inside when the insistent chime of the long-range communication array interrupted both motions.

A small frown furrowed his brow. It was the emergency distress chime and it could only be activated by another Goa’uld in his employ. A small hand gesture and the message was displayed before his eyes. Atheros...? Just what was little Kopros up to ?
This mystery had to be cleared up. Tanith dismissed the distress text and initiated a long range subspace call. If the governor of Atheros had a communication sphere along, the call would reach him thanks to the built-in addressing logic.
Lengthy seconds passed in near silence then sound and image burst inside the ship’s cockpit. Tanith recognized his underling’s face, strained by something very much like fear, and he instinctively waved his hand aside. The two servants recognized the imperious gesture and left the compartment without a word.
“Lord Tanith ! Thank the stars you got the distress signal !” Kopros burst out in a hurried voice, and his liege peered closer at the scene displayed before him. The picture was bobbing as if Kopros was holding the com device in front of him while running… and that was the case apparently, as walls and ceiling scrolled in the background. It was a little sickening and Tanith clamped down on his host body’s reflexive response.
“Kopros ! What in Ra’s name are you doing ?” he inquired authoritatively. “And will you settle down instead of running like a mad chicken ?”
“I can’t slow down ! They’re coming for me !” As if to reinforce the subordinate Goa’uld’s answer, a distinctive sound of staff weapon fire came from somewhere behind him, followed by strange crack-crack noises and yells of pain.
“What is happening down there ? And who’s coming for you ? Are the locals rebelling ?”
Kopros shook his head nervously and ducked precipitously as more sharp noises erupted and something crashed nearby. The fleeing Goa’uld didn’t answer immediately and Tanith could only watch and try to make sense of the wild show happening live in front of him. The com sphere’s visual sensor swivelled madly, showing the running legs of its holder, then upside down walls, then a glimpse of something humanoid at the end of a corridor, a flash like a weapon discharge and the recognizable flaring of a personal shield, Kopros’ obviously. The sight shifted again, stopping for an second on a gilded inscription engraved on the wall, then panned up and Tanith recognized the transport ring station of the Atheros governor palace. As if to confirm his observation the camera moved again with Kopros, and captured the sound and sight of the ring array activating. The picture flashed white for a moment, then the connection came back.

It was definitely darker where the other Goa’uld had been transported. More motion, less frenzied this time, a stop and the sounds of fiddling with a control panel.
“Kopros ! Will you tell me what is happening now !” Tanith’s tone was a bit irritated by then. A rebellion that managed to force a planetary governor into flight was something serious. And yet, the population of Atheros generally liked their governor. Was it an attack by another Goa’uld…?
At last the visual shifted again to the face of his underling. He was still looking tense but not on the verge of panic as moments before.
“My Lord” Kopros breathed out “it’s the Tollan, they have sent a fleet and a ground invasion force through the Chappai !”
“What ?” Shock and surprise colored the superior Goa’uld’s voice.
“When I was forced to flee the palace, the Tollan fleet was still an hour away from the planet’s high orbitals, but their army didn’t wait for their arrival. The assault was fast and brutal, they captured the Chapai Hall and reached the Palace soon after, and they slaughtered the Guard -”
“What, the Tollans did that ? Was the phase disruptor offline ?” That was the only explanation that made any sense and if so, then someone would pay dearly !
“My Lord” Kopros took a deep breath “the disruptor was active, and the attackers didn’t use phase shifting at all. They used effective tactics and unknown weapons, including ground based war machines - in truth, they didn’t look like Tollans at all”

Tanith pondered the last sentence for a short moment. The Tollans had diplomatic relations with other galactic powers, though fortunately not with the Asgard. Could they have come up with allies ?
“What about the Tollan fleet ?”
“It is a strong one, but I’m confident our space defenses can repulse them. There are enough cloaked mines and satellites to hold off a much larger force”
“Then retaking the Chappai and the capital are the priority. How many Jaffas are still with you ?”
Kopros made a sheepish face. “My Lord… the last ones died covering my escape. I ringed to the old temple in the Grey Mountains and deactivated the ring array here so they couldn’t follow me”
Tanith muttered a curse then breathed deeply.
“Surely they have established a strong defense around the Chappai” he commented, then grinned. “Yet as strong as it is, I doubt it can hold off an assault by Kull Warriors”
He watched his underling echo his grin, worry leaving his features, and spoke again as the Tel’tak automatically began to descend. “As soon as my armies have retaken the ground, I will personally execute every survivor !”

So the locals are being sorted into grades of 'usability'? This will make it easier for the Draka later to 'rescue' the survivors. Plus the party afterwards will likely be enhanced by Draka pheromones. Add in a few pieces of tech apparently looted by the Goa'uld, and the Draka should get a nice boost there.

If the Draka survive, and manage to get ahold of Kull armor and weaponry, things will get interesting.

Not as interesting as a female drakensis in skin-tight Kull armor, but still interesting.

Before the partying, there's the whole killing business.




Planet Atheros
Tanith’s Dominion


“The little bastard escaped !” the Citizen Force Monitor spat angrily as he found himself standing near the very spot where the fleeing Goa’uld dignitary, obviously a prime target for capture, had narrowly avoided this fate thanks to the transport rings. Ghouloons and other Draka soldiers formed a perimeter around the area, waiting for the Tollan technicians to arrive. A brief examination of the control panel yielded no clue as to the fugitive’s destination, apparently there were multiple transport stations around the planet - that much was made clear by the helpful notices engraved in gold on the wall - but the sneaky bastard had also locked the controls. Hopefully the Tollans would be able to unlock them. The perspective of sending greeting packages to the various Goa’uld facilities on-planet, in the form of high-yield Nq-K demolition charges, was just too tempting. It was also the default option in case the joint invading force didn’t have the time, or opportunity, to thoroughly investigate the place.The Drakas in particular were clearly interested in acquiring more Goa’uld technology, especially ships.
By now, their control of the capital city was uncontested. If any Jaffas remained alive, they were apparently keeping their heads low. The womhole from Abydos had just shut down after half an hour of continuous use and more than three thousand Domination and Imperial personnel were now present on the planet, most of them combat troops, with scientists and engineers already scrambling towards the palace where most of the technological treasure had to be.

Draka-led ghouloon squads pushed into the meandering streets like so many malignant tendrils in order to reach and empty every district. The same scene repeated itself at every house, every mansion, every shop : orders were barked in the Goa’uld tongue, doors and furniture were shattered, screaming denizens were dragged by the hair, shoved forward or simply carried away in strong ghouloon arms to the street where they joined their neighbours to be shackled, then poked and prodded with bayonets to get them walking in the right direction back towards the chosen assembly areas.
The vast majority obeyed without question, too frightened and cowed by the hulking presence of the genetically engineered warbreeds. There weren’t many cases of resistance, and those were dealt with appropriately in a manner that showed everyone else that resistance was indeed futile. It usually involved the culprit being torn limb from limb by a ghouloon who then proceeded to snack on the remains, with loud grunts of contentment and rivulets of blood dripping down from their maws.
The atrocious sight was always compounded by retching sounds and the foul smell of vomit that Atherosian witnesses couldn’t hold back.

“Merarch ! The townsfolks are starting to flee the city into the countryside !”
Polignac wasn’t surprised by his subordinate’s announcement. The aerial drone indeed showed crowds running out of the city’s fringes, carrying nothing more than clothes and light baggage. Those had to be the luckiest, smartest or quickest, he reflected. The closest forest was several kilometers away and it wouldn’t hide them from tracking ghouloons, but the fact was, he didn’t have the manpower to both search the city and pursue the fleeing civilians. Besides, any survivor would talk and spread the fear of the mysterious attackers, which was in the long term just as well.

In the meantime, there were already enough prisoners gathered near the stargate building, and a nice collection of loot to send.
“All right. Let’s make a first shipment !”
His order was relayed and a soldier punched in the coordinates for Abydos. The outgoing connection flickered into existence without a hitch and recognition codes were sent to ensure the safety of everyone involved. As the link was confirmed, the order to move was passed down to the first newly-captured serfs waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and they started to climb without even needing more encouragement. Their Draka captors watched with guarded satisfaction : those humans were already broken in spirit, and the specialized serf-handlers waiting at the other end of the interstellar bridge wouldn’t have too hard a job. The manpower would be welcomed on the developing planet where mines and plantations were at last beginning to multiply, with the initial surveying work accomplished in the most promising areas.
In addition, many of the Atherosians seemed to have accomplished skills in various manual arts, from fine pottery to jewellery, if the loot was any indication. And many wenches and bucks were fine looking too. Polignac watched with amusement as the captives filed past a group of gawking Tollan soldiers, all of them ogling the naked women and making lewd comments.

“Commander Katallax” he greeted the approaching man with a satisfied smile “things do seem to be proceeding quite well, aren’t they ?”
His Imperial ally made a pouty frown in response.
“Ah, I’m not entirely convinced this is setting a good example for my men, Merarch de Polignac” he stated with a chin-thrusting gesture at the scene happening at the other end of the street. “We Tollans used to pride ourselves at acting better than the Goa’uld” He added quickly “No offense intended, Merarch”
Anton replied with a sweeping gesture of magnanimous equanimity.
“Bah ! What’s the point of winning if you don’t get to have a little fun afterwards ?”
He went on more seriously. “Anyway, those people used to be slaves of the Goa’uld before we captured them. In truth, their lives will probably be better once they adjust to their new conditions”
“I see. Nevertheless, some writers back in the Empire have stated that advanced, progressive societies such as ours should strive to liberate the oppressed populations of the galaxy… that it is our duty to do so.” A sad little smile accompanied the words that followed. “Needless to say, this opinion isn’t shared by all and we didn’t do much in that way, when all’s said and done. Maybe if we had, Nautona wouldn’t be crushed under Tanith’s boot as I speak”

A short silence ensued as Anton pondered the Tollan’s words. They weren’t too different from what the Alliance for Democracy had spouted back during the Protracted Struggle. Again, he wondered what the Tollans would make of the Domination’s whole history if they happened to learn it all. But the Tollans weren’t the Yanks either. They never had developed a true equivalent to the stupid Declaration of Human Rights and seemed only distantly considering the (preposterous) idea that all men were equals.
Not for the first time, the thought flashed through his mind whether some Tollans might become Draka citizens in the future. Certainly the Domination could make a room for a few valuable, talented individuals like it had during its past history. At least, the discovery that Earth was but one little planet in a wide populated galaxy had to be accounted for in the Draka worldview. Just how much was still under question, and this very debate was all the rage back on Luna among the citizens most closely associated with the Stargate program.

He remembered one of those discussions one evening after a Pankration training session. Relaxing in the regularly swept steam room with only fellow close Draka ears, the delicate subject of the galaxy’s feral humans could be discussed as freely as possible, without undue fear of Security Directorate goons listening. The general overarching consensus was unsurprisingly that the Race would “one day” master the whole galaxy. Of course, “one day” was a vague enough term to permit much speculation as to the indefinite transition period.
Few Citizens were following the Gayner-led opinion that “We Drakas ought to leave no ambiguity : any non-Draka have to be declared official Yoke-fodder at once !” Not only was it reckless considering the level of technological advancement reached by some of the Yoke-fodder, but Gayner’s accomplishments in Australasia were telling either : sure, she had managed to pacify the continent-island and its smaller neighbours, but it was truly a desert called peace, swept bare by fire and biobombs, with nary a tree left standing. Worse, whole animal species were now extinct, like the kangaroos. Extinct in the sense that no living example remained around, for the genetic templates was thankfully saved in the Domination’s genebanks.
If that was to be the galaxy Drakas would rule upon, then in Anton’s eye they shouldn’t even bother.

The middle consensus, fortunately, was that the Race should adapt itself to the situation, naturally without losing sight of the ultimate goal. As to how the Tollan Empire should be treated, everyone agreed that it should be kept on the Domination’s good side as long as it was favorable to do so, yet a couple voices had expressed rather more radical ideas, like attracting the most promising elements of Tollan society into the Draka sphere. They argued that the Tollans were evidently not as dumbly egalitarian as the Yanks and might even find themselves embracing the Draka ethos.
Anton found this hypothesis rather too radical. True, it was a departure back to the origins of the Domination, when the fledging state attracted the ambitious and discontents fleeing the self-styled “enlightened ideas” rotting the old order to the core in Europe and America.
In the end, there were simply too many Tollans. The Domination couldn’t possibly integrate billions of metic citizens even in centuries. Therefore, the majority of the Tollans would end up serfs… or dead.

But in the meantime it didn’t hurt to be polite.
“Hindsight is always razor-sharp, Commander” he finally answered. “I don’t think you should bother with what-ifs. And in the larger picture… let me tell you this : men aren’t created equals. It is a natural rule that some are born stronger, smarter, quicker. Life is a competition with the stronger winning, and that’s true for civilizations too. Some deluded, weak minds can argue against that basic truth, and in the end events always correct those sophisms. We Drakas have always held to the rule shown by Nature and strived to be the best, which now allows us to kick Goa’uld ass” he grinned at Katallax “Our society with its hierachical division reflects this basic truth… and it works, too. As an ancient philosopher on my world once stated, there is no greater injustice as treating equally beings who are by nature unequal”.
The Tollan officer looked thoughtful, gazing at the clear sky. The Draka’s argumentation was appealing, all things considered. Still… the casual brutality they were showing was a little bothering. He reflected ruefully that it was probably a sign that he, like every Tollan, had become overly used to the clean comfortable peace of mind provided by their advanced society. Yet in a war to the brim as Tanith had unleashed on the Empire, squeamishness was a dangerous thing and his fellow people would be well advised to hear the Draka’s lesson.

His perceptive ally recognized the emotional turmoil behind the man’s pensive face and did his best to lighten the spirit.
“Here, Commander” he bent sideways and picked up an amber-colored, ornate glass bottle, then offered it to Katallax. “It’s a local spirit and a very good one at that. Take a swill, it will make you feel better !”
The Tollan’s eyes opened wider in surprise, but he took the proffered flask without undue hesitation. His eyes grew even wider as he sniffed the contents. The sheer fumes were potent enough to make him light-headed, and he took a mouthful, drinking straight from the open bottleneck. His eyes glazed as the liquid visibly travelled down his throat and a flush appeared on his cheeks.
“Gaah ! That’s the smoothest liquor I’ve ever tasted !” he declared in a reverent voice, looking at the bottle he was holding.
His counterpart winked. “Well, there’s plenty more where it came from. Once this is over I’ll make sure to have a box sent to your address on Tollania”
“Oh isn’t Tanith going to miss those !”
Both Drakensis and Tollan shared the ensuing laugh.



Satrian Outskirts
Occupied Nautona
Twenty minutes later


Reetak seethed at the news he had just received from his god. The Tollans would pay dearly for their insolence. Like many Jaffas in the service of Tanith, he had good friends on Atheros, a lovely planet that boasted some of the best taverns with absolutely first rate booze and women. The thought that filthy blasphemers were polluting its soil was enraging. Yet he kept his rage under control, for he was a warrior. Besides… the sight waiting before his eyes was making him proud. His best Jaffa legion, a thousand of the best warriors in the galaxy (in his admittedly biased opinion) was already assembled in the field where the Chappai had been emplaced, in the middle of one of the large parks dotting the conquered city. Ranks of men in chainmail, staff weapons held upright at their sides, standing tall and erect in a display of ready martial might arrayed in two blocks lining the pathway leading to the dormant Chappai. Even the sky looked ominous and dark, as near-black rolling thunderclouds billowed overhead, pushed by a chilly easterly wind. The First Prime briefly wondered if his god’s anger had actually given birth to the fierce weather.
It was fitting anyway, for it symbolized the wrath of the gods that was going to befall the Tollan trespassers. A savage grin curled his mouth. From his elevated vantage point standing on a stone dais where the gate dialing pedestal was emplaced, a sight heralded the arrival of the counterattack’s final element.
Coming from the distant landed Tel’Tak, three tall black humanoid figures strode purposefully towards the waiting stargate, their entire appearance foreboding and threatening. A thunderclap boomed and rumbled overhead as the trio reached the first rank of Jaffas and thick heavy raindrops started to hammer the crowd, gathering weight in a rapid crescendo until it felt as if an ocean was falling down on the waiting Jaffas. They didn’t budge, reveling in the sheer display of nature’s power and watching with awe the black-shrouded figures treading betwen their ranks, looking for all the world oblivious to the water cascading down their gleaming wet armor.

Suddenly a clamor began, born out of one throat, then spreading more, and more, until every Jaffa present joined in the loud chanting, punctuated by the rythmic hammering of staff weapons impacting on the ground and the occasional thunderclap bathing the whole field into white actinic light.
“Kull ! Kull ! KULL ! KULL !”
The collective incantation pitched up, even louder than thought possible, bellowed by a thousand powerful Jaffa throats at the top of their lungs, until it drowned even the pervasive beating of the rain.
The three jet-black Kull Warriors made their way up the path, betraying no sign of acknowledgment of the violent frenzy they were arousing all around, which made the clamor even wilder and louder.
“KULL ! KULL ! KULL ! KULL !”
At last, they stopped in front of the hollow metal disk and Reetak punched in the keys to the besieged world. The stargate activated with the usual ka-woosh, its eerie blue light bathing the figures beyond.
Reetak raised his arm imperiously and the chanting stopped abruptly.
“Jaffa ! Kree !”
Both blocks of warriors closed in a single massive column behind the three armored figures, and after a single second of anticipation, the unstoppable juggernauts entered the shimmering event horizon.

The fight of the Badass....Kull Vs Draka and Ghouloons.....that's going to be something for the sights...unless the Draka use the ole'proven "Ram'it til it give up!"

And here's the first part of Chapter 17 !

[/b]





Planet Atheros
Tanith’s Dominion


“Incoming wormhole !”
The notice was broadcasted on the net for every Draka and Tollan personnel currently on the planet. A load of captives and loot had just gone through to Abydos, and the stargate activating again wasn’t abnormal. It could be Abydos sending a message or the requested additional personnel already… although the time elapsed was quite short. Or it could be the Goa’uld Tanith finally reacting to the trespassing on his domain.
In any case, the firepower arrayed around the truncated pyramid housing the interstellar portal was ready to cope with any Jaffa assault.
Two hundred soldiers and ghouloons had rifles trained up at the building’s top level, where any arrival would be coming from. While nobody stood by the stargate itself, against the very possibility that their enemy might act smartly and send a clearing package first, several claymore traps were emplaced, ready to blast any Jaffa to bits even before the shooters outside needed to do anything.
While the heavy units were away, namely the four Hond VI tanks and their accompanying IFVs, additional firepower was provided on site by the three power armor suits and their assortment of large weaponry standing guard at the foot of the monument-sized staircase.

“If those are Jaffas, they’ll find it like sticking their dicks in a meat-grinder”
Katallax chuckled at his Draka counterpart’s observation. Yes, the bastards would be shredded and that thought seemed to cheer him up. Especially combined with the euphorizing effect of liquor, one of the many valuable items looted from the surrounding shops and cellars. While one could believe that a technologically primitive world like Athros might present no attraction whatsoever to men coming from a highly advanced one like Tolla, that belief was simply wrong. Men were men, and many pleasures of life didn’t require starship-grade technology, beginning with food and drink. Arts and crafts were another. The intricately wrought jewels, fine fabrics, and other items produced by the artisans of Atheros would surely yield nice prices if they were ever sold on the Tollan market. At least, Katallax thought a little surly, if the Drakas left anything behind them. They sure seemed to have an eye for loot. Including human loot. And judging from their reactions, some of his fellow Tollans might not ask themselves too many existential questions before doing the same.

“If that’s Abydos, we should be receiving an authentication code…” Polignac frowned minutely. As if to confirm his concern, something emerged from the water-like vertical surface, or rather, three somethings. The picture on his perscomp was clear, relayed from the drone sitting close to the stargate. The Tollan officer glanced at the sight and nearly blanched, frozen in recognition. Next to him, the Merarch reached the same conclusion, identifying the newcomers from the description provided by the Domination’s provisional “ally”. The three black shapes had to be the infamous and nigh-unstoppable Kull Warriors.
Well, the Race would see about that.
His Tollan companion was still gaping at the display when Anton reacted. If half the things about those Kulls were true then things would be heating up quickly. Reaching for the human’s shoulder, he gave a sharp jolt and spoke hurriedly as the Imperial stared at him in surprise.
“Get yourself and your men out of sight, now !”
Katallax nodded jumpily and reached for his wristcom. Seeing that the man was out of his daze, Anton hastily grabbed his helmet. As he proceeded to put it back on his head, a loud Bang came from the top of the pyramid, the sound of multiple directed anti-personnel mines detonating simultaneously. The fury of the blast was contained by the stone walls even as a hail of metal flayed their inner side. The claymores were arrayed in two parallel lines, perpendicular to the stargate itself, so as to catch incoming hostiles and shred them in the lethal crossfire without threatening to damage the ring-shaped device.
Had their targets been Jaffas, they would indeed have ended up smattered on the walls.

As it was though, the three Kull Warriors were left standing without a scratch on their jet-black armor. The beings weren’t very emotional. In fact, their minds were quite single-minded for their sole reason for existing was to kill the enemies of Anubis, and they usually went at it with mechanical detachment and a complete absence of fear that wasn’t due to the safety provided by their suits’ protective properties.
Therefore, they took the mine blast with as much concern as a speeding car driver might hae for a bug crashing on the windshield and stepped forward in lockstep, wrist-mounted blasters held ready, waiting for their sensors to provide a target.
And they did. As soon as the trio exited the covered area, becoming visible for all to see, they found themselves the converging aimpoint of every weapon arrayed outside. The whole place erupted in gunfire at the Draka commander’s signal. Thousands of synthcrystal bullets hurtled downrange every second, all of them superbly aimed at the three humanoid targets, and splattered themselves to dust and fragments on the impervious armor. The resultant cloud of particles hung around the alien warriors like an iridescent cloud, catching the sunlight and producing myriads of fleeting miniature rainbows. Alas, the pretty show was all the result achieved by the rifle ammunition for a couple of seconds, then heavier caliber weaponry joined in. Grenades burst, dispelling the light crystalline fog but achieving nothing more, then 20 mm shells streamed in from the autocannons carried by the power armor, the salvos of high velocity rounds flattening themselves on the black armor plates in strings of stroboscopic flashes.

None of it seemed to bother the Kull Warriors, to every Draka’s disbelief. Then a smoke trail blazed into existence, like a straight line cutting through the air, followed by more as hypervelocity anti-armor rockets were launched from shoulder launchers. The powerful weapons could punch through a main battle tank’s side armor at close range, the very range at which they were fired then. Not even the Anubis-created protective suits could fully ignore those. The sheer kinetic energy washed through the inertial compensating circuits and the faceless soldiers staggered aside like drunken boxers, arm flailing in order to remain upright.
Fortunately for them, and unfortunately for their adversaries, the rocket launchers took a few seconds to reload, even by Draka operators, and the brief lull in the fire enabled the Kulls to regain their balance. And then they chose to answer the welcoming message.
The wrist blaster that was their primary armament had been upgraded since the first Kull Warrior left the Tartarus facility. The first version tended to overheat when fired for more than a dozen heartbeats. The improved one benefited from enlarged naquadah based heat exchangers, which allowed for near-continuous firing at maximum power.
Now the three creatures used this ability to the fullest, sending quasi-continuous streams of energetic plasma, almost solid beams travelling far faster than staff weapon bolts with each pulse set to contain as much destructive power as a standard portable staff cannon.
The combination of very high muzzle velocity and computer-assisted aiming meant that each Kull only had to superimpose his projected aimpoint over the carats designating enemy soldiers in his helmet display. Even a Jaffa could have done it.

This much improved effectiveness came as a very nasty surprise for the Drakas. The three power armor suits were targeted first by the Kulls’ return fire. Plasma stream impacted the resilient cermet plating, but it couldn’t sustain this sort of bombardment for more than a half-second at best. Before the surprised operators could throw themselves out of the line of fire, jets of flame and sparks flared brightly as the suits were penetrated. The Kulls maliciously walked their fire over the tall bulky shapes, blowing up hidden power feeds in showers of sparks, blasting weapon attachment points and ammo magazines in strings of secondary explosions and pulverizing the vulnerable biological matter inside the mechanical shells. The three operators were the first Draka casualties of Tanith’s counterattack, flesh and tissue flash-vaporized as body fluids turned to overheated steam, the sudden overpressure venting itself through the holed carapaces in geyser-like pink spouts of vapor and micronized gore.
The quick demise of the powerful suits was a shock, although the Domination’s soldiers were hardened by training and experience and didn’t freeze in the face of death. It was clear however that Draka weapon fire did nothing to stop the enemy warriors, while they were in turn highly vulnerable to the plasma streams surging from the Kull’s overwatching position.
Three beams of blazing destruction swept across the area in front of the pyramid, digging lines of overlapping craters in the ground, shattering walls, setting fire to combustible materials laying close to the blasts. Draka infantrymen and ghouloon troopers were forced to dive out of the fire and scramble for cover as the blueish pulses trailed them, but a handful, too slow or rather plain unlucky, were cut down in mid-flight, the ferocious energy rounds jerking bodies around under the reactive force of vaporizing cermet. Not even Drakensis physiology or ghouloon bulky resilience could sustain the grievous damage inflicted by superdense hypervelocity plasma tearing through their flesh, and red casualty warnings flashed through their officers’ helmet displays.

The majority of the combatants still managed to retreat out of immediate danger, and three Kull Warriors couldn’t possibly target everyone at the same time. Nevertheless, they effectively disrupted the defence around the pyramidal building, and their Jaffa followers took advantage of the Draka gunners being pinned down, surging out of the stargate and around the black-suited creatures, laying down plasma fire of their own as they began to descend the steps.
Return fire, albeit weakened, claimed dozens of the mail-clad warriors, but Polignac’s soldiers had to pop and shoot, then scoot away from the Kull counterfire they had attracted in the process.
More Drakas died that way or were grievously injured when hit by blaster pulses. A single hit anywhere on the torso or the head was instantly lethal, a hit on a limb blew it off messily. Standard humans would die very soon after from shock and blood loss, only the Drakensis’ reinforced physiology could sustain such brutal trauma and even remain conscious and able to move, thanks to the self-sealing vascular system and the flood of adrenaline temporarily boosting their already superior metabolism.

Polignac’s face was hard. Never before had the Race faced such a one-sided fight. While the Jaffas were laughable, those Kull Warriors were every way the formidable adversary described by the Tollans. They couldn’t be invincible though. They could be killed, usually through the application of starship-grade weaponry. Unfortunately, this had the annoying side effect of destroying everything else in the area. Not something you wanted to do in the vicinity of friendly personnel.
So, Anton thought, it would have to be up close and personal. He doubted those warriors could physically overpower a ghouloon or a Drakensis, but the problem was surviving long enough to reach hand-to-hand fighting range. With the Jaffas now surging in support, there was no way his forces around the pyramid could swarm the black juggernauts and force them into submission.
The bright side of the situation was, they were fighting in a city, and he had tanks. With that, he reached a decision.

Retak’s Jaffas cheered and hollered in triumph as their opponents started to retreat, although it was an ordered and controlled one and not a rout, with the ghouloons providing most of the covering fire, sacrificing their lives to protect the beings they were genetically programmed to serve. Smoke grenades burst in front of the Drakas’ former positions, cutting the Jaffas’ sight and obscuring the retreat maneuver as the last soldiers ran around corners into relative safety.
All around the city, the scattered search squads received new orders and began to move to reinforce their comrades setting up the new defense line. The enemy warriors would undoubtly head for the governor’s palace. It would be urban warfare, up close and personal, the kind that Earth armies had experienced often enough. The plan was simple in outline, like every good plan : attrit the Jaffas, strip the Kull Warriors’ from their support, then pounce and crush them in the narrow confines of the city.
As Polignac jogged deeper inside the planetary capital, he reflected on the fearsome power exhibited by Tanith’s elite warriors. Now that’s a worthy opponent for us.

Finally a worthy ground opponent for Domination. Just wondering how well Kull warriors will fare when shot or run over by tanks. I remember from Stargate series a Kull warrior were disabled for some time when hit by a small rocket. A tank gun should pack far more punch.

Sky Captain wrote:Finally a worthy ground opponent for Domination. Just wondering how well Kull warriors will fare when shot or run over by tanks. I remember from Stargate series a Kull warrior were disabled for some time when hit by a small rocket. A tank gun should pack far more punch.

Yes it would





ITN Majestic
Task Force Avenger


“Incoming update from planetside, Commander ! The ground force was engaged by Kull Warriors coming from the stargate !” The Tollan communication officer raised his head above the top of his console, a certain nervousness showing in his face. Everyone feared the unstoppable creatures’s reputation, built in the handful of engagements between Tanith’s ground forces and Tollan infantry.
Subcommander Anthim glanced aside at the blonde woman in the foreign uniform. Not really a uniform, actually, a Domination Space Force skinsuit. The (relatively) lightweight garment was standard attire in Draka-crewed ships, a self-contained space suit, vacuum-rated and proof against small shrapnel as well as moderate amounts of hard radiation. It could make the difference between death and survival provided that rescue wasn’t too long in coming.
Gwendolyn felt slightly conspicuous in her full-body outfit, the lumps and bumps of power and life-support hardware protruding on the back and the shiny mirrored surface finish. Her entrance on the bridge, following the call to general quarter, was followed by every pair of eye, all of them showing a good measure of puzzlment and in a few cases amusement. Everyone else was still wearing the same duty uniforms, something she found rather foolish. The reply consisted in a declaration of faith in Tollan naval technology, particularly the internal emergency forcefields that would activate in case of a hull breach in order to keep atmosphere and crewmen inside.
In the Draka’s mind, such blind confidence in inanimate matter was a good way to die prematurely, and she kept it at that, unwilling to debate it further.

“I hope your fellows down there know what they’re doing”
Gwen suppressed a shrug. “Of course they are. I hope you people do, as well” her reply came out with enough sweety tartness to cut short any argument. Her interlocutor blinked once, then turned away.
“We’ve been practicing space warfare for centuries, Cohortarch Ingolfsson.” Anthim put just enough emphasis on centuries to dispell enough thought that the Empire wasn’t competent enough in the tall woman’s eyes. “Of course a fresh viewpoint can sometimes provide interesting new ideas” he finished with a smile. After all they were allies and working towards the same goal. Besides… it just wasn’t possible to be rude with the attractively magnetic Draka. In the couple days she had been spending aboard everyone had found himself drawn into the foreign woman’s charisma. It was hard not too, she was smart, witty, charming, and extremely seductive.
If the Domination had selected their best-presenting officers for this liaison work, then in Anthim’s mind Ingolfsson’s superiors had done a truly excellent choice.
And his last comment was sincere. The cloaked Goa’uld defenses were a thorn in the ITN’s side, yet faced with the problem their Draka counterparts had come up with a solution that was elegant in its brutal simplicity. The following simulations had shown the soundness of the idea, and the task force’s fabricators had spent all the time in transit churning the required devices from Draka-provided blueprints.

“In any case, we’re reaching Activation Point” Ship Commander Olmoc chimed in, his gaze intent on the tactical plot. Pale gold blocks highlighted the probable areas where enemy defensive assets should logically be emplaced. Normally, such a vague localization would be useless for targeting, since even a fleet couldn’t hope to clear out millions of cubic kilometers with random energy weapon fire.
As the blue dots figuring the Tollan ships crept forward, closer and closer to the imaginary line where they would reach the maximum predicted engagement envelope of the Goa’uld satellites, the countdown established by Majestic’s Tactical and Gunnery officers reached zero. Confirmation messages and electric blue lines projected across the holoplot, from the Tollan ship icons to the zone of space around Atheros.
“Vectors checked, engagement sectors allocated across the fleet, Commander !”
“Very well” Olmoc bared his teeth as everyone else tensed imperceptibly “Execute Lightstrip !”

In a crisp display of automated synchronization, thousands of luminous silver dots seemed to erupt from the open hangars of the task force, turning sharply once clear of the white hulls to dart away on memorized trajectories. The plain, two meter long oblong projectiles were dumb simpletons, with no seeker heads to speak of, merely a small inertial guidance pack piloting a commercial-grade ion-gravitic engine. The overstressed impellers, taken from intrasystem shuttle designs, would burn out in minutes if they even survived their tiny power source. It didn’t matter, for they were eminently expendable. In fact, their only purpose was to deliver the Draka-pattern fusion warhead at the right place in the right instant.

The closest Goa’uld killsats orbited a mere hundred thousand kilometers ahead. Their collective, networked intelligence briefly considered the myriad objects rushing towards their position. It was confusing. None of the satellites were directly targeted, but the incoming vectors would envelope the whole area of space in a regular, three-dimensional virtual mesh. It looked like a clearing sweep… but deeper scans showed no trace of a naquadah explosive warhead. Further calculations, operated in a blink of time, analyzed the contents of what should constitute the approaching missiles’ payload. If the Goa’uld-built logic had been capable of emotion, it would have shrugged in disdain at the piddly ten megaton explosive force contained inside the hydrogen isotopes. What could those things expect to achieve outside of a short-lived fireworks show, the groupmind didn’t know.
Briefly, it considered whether to engage the low-threat missiles, then decided that revealing the cloaked satellites’ positions wasn’t worth the pleasure of blowing off the little gnats.
Had a real Goa’uld, Kopros for example, been around to analyze he same picture, the decision might have been overridden. Alas, Kopros was still hiding away in a dusty dark temple with little in the way of information.

Therefore, the horde crossed the intervening space unharmed and each missile reached its dedicated destination at the same moment. Their selfless dedication was fulfilled in the infinitesimal timespan of their collective destruction, an orgasm of liberated energy that was as bright as it was brief, thousands of thermonuclear reactions happening all around the globe of Atheros from low to high orbit, saturating the whole volume of space in hard radiation and light. It was, in a short moment, the world’s largest electronic flash.
As intense as it was, the trinium-clad Goa’uld weapon platforms were not physically harmed by it. Nor did the temporary disruption of their sensor capacity long enough to matter.
As the rain of X-Ray and gamma radiation dried, the defender logic did its disincarnated equivalent of a shrug and resumed its patient waiting in ambush for the far juicier Tollan targets.

“It worked, Commander ! We’re getting the raw sensor data right now !” Larian anounced with professional ravishment.
While the instantaneous thermonuclear annihilation hadn’t produced any damage to the Goa’uld orbital facilities, that had never been its goal. The whole point was to provide a sudden spike of background radiation, a veritable flashbulb whose emitted energy uniformly filled every cubic meter of space around the planet… save the bubble-like volumes covered by a cloaking field. Those distorted and bent incoming energy around them, acting like wide-spectrum metamaterial lenses and thus making invisible whatever laid inside their embrace.
There was a limitation to the energy they were built to smoothly warp around, however. As the hard radiation wave washed over from every direction, the overtaxed fields fluctuated, producing a very brief tell-tale shimmer in the high energy bands, a shimmer that was caught by the appropriate sensors aboard the Tollan ships. The raw sensor take and its gigabytes of data, was immediately processed through the filtering algorithms written specially for this task, and a scant couple seconds later the triumphant voice of the Senior Gunnery Officer reported excitedly on the final output.
“We’ve got them, Commander !”
Right on cue, the holoplot changed, the pale gold chunks dissolved and dozens, then hundreds of discrete icons appeared in their place, marking the firm locations of the waiting defenses.
“Set targeting orders and disseminate firing solutions, I want a gun set on every single Goa’uld piece of junk !”
The highly automated process of allocating firing solutions throughout the task force only required a few inputs from the bridge officer, and acknowledgments came back from his counterparts aboard every vessel.
“Fire plan checked and locked in the gunnery directors, Commander ! On your order !”

Olmoc leaned forward on his command chair and touched the gently pulsing activation button, holding his finger atop the neural-sensitive surface for a small instant. Majestic’s tactical computer recognized both mechanical and neural-impulse signals and lifted the central locks on every targeted weapon.
Every ion cannon was already pointed on the predicted aimpoint, the finely tuned governors on each turret maintaining the tubes aligned along the right vector even as the warships kept moved forward. In a single, fateful instant, every cannon in the fleet spat a burst of energized ion slugs at speeds far above what any ground-based weapon could produce inside an atmosphere. The massive salvo flashed across the void, impacting seconds later with superb accuracy. Lightning strobed in short-lived new constellations as Goa’uld weapon satellites and proximity mines were torn apart in violent explosions, the unleashed fury of Tollan ion cannons striking defenseless targets that still felt secure behind their cloaks.
The initial salvo destroyed hundreds of the surprised platforms, and then the still numerous survivors began to maneuver evasively. Their cloaks weren’t rated for this though and they seemed to flash into existence, the useless cloaking fields replaced by more relevant energy shields. Subsequent ion salvos lost their initial accuracy, missing evading targets by scant meters or striking near-misses and glancing blows that didn’t penetrate the weak shields. Yet more of their number died uselessly, and the remaining networked logic decided it was time to answer in kind.

The larger platforms stopped evading for a short moment, just enough to take aim at the ships in range and loose bolts of plasma downrange. The controlling mind had opted for a maximum yield output, rightly choosing between durability and effectiveness.
Overloaded circuits began to scream silently at the manifest abuse, but their complaints were ignored against the overarching need to destroy the enemy vessels.
As capital-grade plasma bolts impacted the Tollan shields, dropping their strength precipitously, the Imperial tacticians adjusted their fire plan, concentrating the heavy ion turrets onto the more urgent threats but keeping the medium and light guns tasked towards clearing the thick minefields.
The task force also had to brake down by now in order to achieve a zero-zero rendez-vous in orbit of the planet, and the dropping speed increased the accuracy of both sides’ weapons.
More Goa’uld satellites died but Tollan destroyers began to drift out of formation, their weaker shields overwhelmed first, allowing the compacted star-matter to claw and bite at their hulls, tearing stadium-sized panels apart and denuding the compartments behind. Power and data conduits were cut and automatic damage control routines tried to reroute through unaffected sectors while emergency internal fields closed against the vacuum, but crewmembers were caught outside the safety net, screaming silently, and swallowed by the cold deathly embrace of space.

Aboard the destroyer ITN Vigilant Guardian, Tetrarch Arminius Vöhn blessed his own forethought as well as the Domination’s engineers, when a Goa’uld plasma round impacted straight through burnt-out shielding into the forward hull, burning and smashing through three decks to expend its last blazes inside the graceful ship’s command bridge. The room was scoured by incandescent gas and molten metal, killing every Tollan crewman instantly even before bodies and broken equipments were sucked out by the explosive decompression.
Tetrarch Vöhn’s mind blanked out as his surroundings disappeared in a white flash and his body was forcefully hurtled away in the wildest rollercoaster ride he’s ever experienced, then relative calm and weightlessness allowed him to to regain his awareness. Opening his eyes, he found the black background of space over which tumbled charred debris and human remains, the his gaze picked up the blackened dorsal hull of Vigilant Guardian, rolling slowly off-axis, lights flickering inside the dark gaping wound cutting through its white skin and casting spark-like glitters across frozen water crystals from the escaping atmosphere.
He was also tumbling slowly, and training reasserted itself. Vöhn countered the erratic motion with the suit’s built-in emergency compressed gas thrusters, then took a good look at himself. His previously pristine suit was badly burnt, its reflective surface turned matte black by the ravening flame, but the damage was superficial. His life support was fully operational, and the emergency transponder was active.
Letting a short sigh, he settled himself in a good position to watch the continuing fireworks as the rest of the fleet seemed to drift away. Fortunately, no enemy weapon fire came closer. Since he was out of the fight, he reflected, he might as well enjoy the show until someone rescued him.

At a guess, this is why you should be wearing suits.

It seems rather odd that the tollans don't. They have to have been in combat before, and this way they just look like idiots.

At some point it becomes a doctrine question: what are your odds of survival in a space battle if your ship takes a penetrating hit that takes away your air, balanced against the costs to time and efficiency of putting everyone in a space suit?

If you're fighting an enemy who tends to treat random drifting guys in space suits as point defense target practice, for instance... space suits don't make much difference. Likewise if a ship that loses control is liable to burn up or crash like a meteor regardless of any survival training of its crew.

Besides, in Stargate canon everyone forgot to wear vacuum suits, all up to the Asgards.
Worst was probably Earth with those big nice windows right on the bridge.
In the Tollan case, it's : "Duh why wear annoying all-covering suits when we've got nifty emergency forcefields ?"
"What if the emergency forcefield fails ?"
"Duh, then we're fucked anyway !"

That may seem like a bad argument, but it really does depend on context, and on who you're planning to fight. Space warfare isn't quite like war on the sea or in the air, where you can be reasonably confident of "bailing out" to an environment that won't immediately kill you and getting picked up afterwards (even if only to a POW camp).

iborg wrote:In the Tollan case, it's : "Duh why wear annoying all-covering suits when we've got nifty emergency forcefields ?"
"What if the emergency forcefield fails ?"

The back-up emergency forcefield turns on?

Nah, the emergency blast doors




Planet Atheros
Groundside


“Fall back !”
“Fire in the hole !”
The warnings came a scant second before the sharp string of detonations, itself followed by the avalanche-sound of two multi-storey houses crashing down in a barley controlled manner, their load-bearing walls and beams sheared by hastily but deftly emplaced demolition charges. Tons of stonework, timber and brick cascaded down into the street below in a rising cloud of dust, effectively forming a barricade as well as burying a dozen Jaffas and more importantly, one of the rampaging Kull Warriors.
The Draka forces had been engaged in a fighting retreat since the last fifteen minutes as they were pursued by the horde of Tanith’s minions, who were apparently very pissed at their presence and very determined to repair the perceived affront. Even with their limited accuracy, enough Jaffas firing staff blasts in a narrow street made for an effective barrage, especially when the opposition couldn’t linger too much in visual range of the tank-like Kulls.
Even firing from behind a corner wasn’t risk free. After the initial surprise, the black soldiers had quickly learnt to shoot at the cover itself, blasting the material with ease and forcing the soldier behind to backstep precipitously. A few ghouloons died in the first five minutes trying to rush the closest Kull, only to be cut down by close-ranged plasma fire. Yet Tanith’s warriors had to advance cautiously as well, for if the creations of Anubis were virtually impervious to enemy weapons, the Jaffas weren’t, and the three creatures were aware of the need to keep a screening force of the more fragile combatants lest they be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

While two of them were born shortly before the destruction of their birthing place, their leader was older, more experienced, having survived every engagement since his activation with regular sarcophagus use to sustain his overstressed body’s life functions. He remembered the first months when his brethren and himself had been unstoppable. Many planets had fallen to their assaults, many Ha’taks captured by boarding as enemy Jaffas were unable to dent the jet-black armor and even Goa’uld hand devices were ineffective, something a few minor allies of Lord Yu had realized with dismay right before their death.
Anubis’ elite soldiers had wrought havoc around the galaxy before their opponents started to implement effective countermeasures. A pair of Kull Warriors attacking an important shipyard on a planet controlled by Apophis were blown to atoms when the enemy god’s First Prime took the decision to aim capital Ha’tak cannons at the spot on the ground where the burning facility used to lay, having reached the conclusion that the shipyard was lost anyway. The resulting fireball had taken out the Kulls, the shipyard, the slave camps nearby, and left a crater the size of a large city under a huge towering mushroom cloud that must have been visible all the way to the stargate at the other end of the continental mass.
The same scenario was repeated a few times later, but it required a capital ship on station, and no Goa’uld enjoyed having to annihilate his own possessions, which let the Kulls mostly immune to that kind of massive retaliation.

Until… the Kull leader remembered that day where he and five of his breed, accompanied by a Jaffa legion, had assaulted on of Lord Yu’s mining worlds through the Chappai. The attack went well at first, intel had been right on the absence of enemy motherships, and the first objective was destroyed with nary a loss. They were on their way to the second objective, a trinium extraction and refining center, when Yu’s response force gated in. The warriors of Anubis weren’t worried by the troops appearing in their rear. Yu’s Jaffas would be swept away on the return trip.
Except those weren’t ordinary Jaffas but Yu’s new, and yet unknown, Dragon Guards, wearing armor that rivaled the Kulls’ and weapons that were a threat to the previously unstoppable soldiers. And there was a hundred of them, supported by five times their number in ordinary Jaffas. They had engaged Anubis’ force in the field. The battle was fierce and brutal, both armies met close to the mining facility on cleared ground and advanced towards one another, line against line, with the stronger units in the center as doctrine demanded. Kulls and Dragons pounded each others with blaster and staff rifle fire with little result, but the latter were more numerous and could afford to divert some of their firepower against the opposing Jaffas, thus negating the number imbalance.
Several hundred warriors of both sides were already down, dead or incapacitated, when the formations finally met in close combat and the battle dissolved into melee fighting, and then the casualty rate skyrocketed.
The senior Kull remembered the confusion and noise, weapon discharges and screams of pain and defiance, meaty thuds of staff striking flesh, dust clouding the battlefield as otherwise undistinguishable warriors searched for an enemy tattoo on each other’s forehead. And the peripheral fighting became secondary when the Dragon Guards entered the fray with sound-amplified martial yells and raised swords in each hand.
His brothers and himself quickly found that they were outmatched in close combat. While their blasters were more effective at such close range, striking down adversaries with repeated hits on heads and limbs, the forcefield reinforced swords proved adept at cutting through the Kull suit’s bodyglove where it was exposed on the joints.
A black-clad warrior fell down, spurting blood from a severed arm, then another, nearly decapitated with a forceblade embedded in his neck. The remaining ones briefly conferred with one another as they fought on, in the abbreviated, concise language subset specially developed for their own communication needs. Their supporting Jaffas were going down at a rapid rate and against Yu’s new soldiers their probability of survival, not even mission success, was dropping by the second.

The last three Kull Warriors reached a consensus. Their lord Anubis had to learn of this new development. The randomly-picked survivor ran away at top speed, ignoring the weapon fire striking his back and the abrupt disappearance of his brothers’ beacons as he sped out of the battlefield, blasting the Jaffas blocking his way. He didn’t stop running until he reached the Chappai and dialed out.
Lord Anubis took the news better than his defeated minion had expected. Evidently the Supreme Lord wasn’t too surprised that his enemies had finally developed a counter to his best weapon. Later, after a dozen more encounters with the Dragon Guards, the decision was made to retire most surviving Kull Warriors from front-line duty. While spies in Yu’s court told that the Guards weren’t more than a thousand in number and kept as a central, rapid reaction force, the loss of Tartarus meant that wasting the remaining Kulls against their nemesis, of which Yu could readily manufacture replacements faster, was unwise.
At least until another facility replaced Tartarus. But Lord Anubis didn’t seem so impatient to resume production of his breed, something the specialized being found vaguely puzzling when he found himself actually thinking about things. Maybe the Supreme Lord was dissatisfied with his kind, he reflected. Or maybe he was going to replace them with even better combatants.
In any case, he and the majority of his brothers were reassigned to serve the Supreme Lord’s vassals, such as Lord Tanith, where they were less likely to encounter such dangerous threats. And at first the prediction was verified. Tollan soldiers folded before the Kulls, and Goa’uld space superiority meant the human blasphemers were able to direct orbital fire only twice, which still resulted in a pair of casualties. Yet the humans couldn’t repeat the method on their colonized planets, where the same application of firepower would devastate inhabited land.

So life was good again. Until now, the Kull found himself thinking with mild irritation as tons of debris prevented him from moving a limb. Those humans were devious, he had to admit. Fortunately, his two brothers were already laying down covering fire as Jaffas started to dig into the rubble. He only had to wait until they could extract him from the trap. It was only a minor nuisance, not like those very fast kinetic impactors back at the Chappai building. Two of those had felt like being out of armor and used as a mastaba training sack by particularly big and brutal Jaffas. Hell, it had even made a small dent on his arm plating.
Being unable to move, it was as good a time as any to reflect on this new type of enemy that didn’t seem to use energy weapons yet possessed armor able to shrug off hits from staff weapons. It was a good thing his own plasma repeaters could dish out superior firepower. Praise Lord Anubis for His wisdom.

While the main axis of advance was just stalled by the makeshift barricade cutting the avenue, fighting resumed in the side streets, where Jaffa assault groups laid down copious amounts of plasma fire, taking turns to avoid overheating their weapons. They were advantaged by the virtually unlimited nature of their ammunition supply, their opponents, while less profligate in expending bullets and grenades, still had to make every shit count. It was a battle of attrition, firepower versus firepower, accuracy being secondary in the narrow confines. Apparently, the Jaffas were only afraid of setting fire to half the city. Still many houses were on fire and only the welcome absence of wind prevented it from spreading and becoming a raging inferno.
Suddenly, the combatants paused for a brief moment as the entire sky turned brighter, its deep blue field flaring almost white. The effect was gone almost as soon, leaving the Jaffas gazing up and wondering what sort of magic they had just witnessed. Some of them, frozen out of cover, died on the spot as opportunistic riflemen took snapshots at exposed heads, and then the fighting resumed.

“That must be the fleet”
“Time for them to earn their pay too !”
Katallax heard his fellow Tollan soldiers commenting and repressed a snort. So far they, himself included, had mostly been running away and cowering out of sight of the Jaffa and Kull Warrior counterattackers, relying on the Drakas and their ghouloon minions to do the fighting for them. Rare were the Imperial troopers who had fired a shot at the enemy today. To be fair, the Tollan contingent on Atheros was almost entirely comprised of technical specialists, most of them already busy searching the governor’s palace for intelligence and trying to unlock the computer system there.
The Commander and his bodyguard unit were heading for the large amphitheater sitting on the small hill south west of the stargate pyramid, where they would have a commanding view of both the former building and the governoral palace. His Draka counterpart would head there as well if the Goa’uld advance couldn’t be contained. The large circular stone arena would make a nice redoubt. But the Merarch has other cards to play in the meantime, even assuming the fleet couldn’t approach close enough to bring additional support. Not that he intended to stand anywhere near a heavy ion cannon strike.



In near space TF Avenger crept closer to the planet, reducing speed as it did so. Enemy fire was abating, many Goa’uld defense satellites reduced to drifting, cooling clouds and scattered debris, and the minefields closest to the fleet were showing the effect of the constant barrage produced by the white vessels’ secondary weapons. Multiple breaches cut through the mass of near-defenseless mines, breaches that were being turned into safe lanes that should allow passage to the fleet unhindered by the more distant, intact defenses.
Arminius Vöhn sat, or rather drifted in space in a relaxed, semi-foetal posture. Lesser men might have been terrified by the weightless, empty void around them, but he was a veteran spacer, and a Draka. He had conquered this particular fear long ago. Even the prospect of death had to be faced with stoïcism and steadfastness, a lesson drilled into every young Citizen from childhood. His lifesupport was good for another twenty-four hours, but that wasn’t his most pressing concern. No, the immediate risk was flying at high speed straight towards the planet ahead. The Tollan destroyer he was stationed on was crippled as the fleet was decelerating hard, meaning he, along with whatever debris and the disabled ship itself, were now ahead of the main fleet and the gap was constantly increasing. Fortunately, ship formations in space were wide enough and Vigilant Guardian had flown at the edge of the task force’s screening element, so the fire still being exchanged was passing far on his right. The spectacular display was something to see, and Vöhn mused that at least if he had to die there, it would be a fiery one, turning into a meteor inside Atheros’ atmosphere.


Thousands of kilometers away, a cloaked Tel’Tak was monitoring the battle taking place over the planet. It had remained undetected so far from both the planetary defenses and the Tollan fleet, for its cloaking system was far more effective than anything in the System Lords’ arsenal, not the cheap mass-produced generator installed on most stealth transports around the galaxy but an optimized and customized device. It was a compromise as always, in this case the increased stealth came at the price of a weaker shield. But the ship’s mission wasn’t combat, its crew were observers, not fighters.
“Dear, the Tollies are really serious about this”
“And smart too. Using out-of-control nuclear fusion devices as flares to detect the cloaked satellites ? I would never have thought it”
“I wonder if…”
“Hmmm ?”
“Those new allies of theirs are behind that”
“We don’t know much about them”
“But it would fit nicely with their use of slug-throwers, no ? Brutal, primitive and effective”
“I suppose. Too bad the council ruled against direct contact”
“We must be cautious. For all their advanced technology the Tollans are foolish and arrogant themselves, remember ?”
“Yes. We must gather data so the council can reach a decision regarding those newcomers. Everything else is secondary.”
The two crewmembers, clad in the uniform of their race, whitish fabric and pale gold leather trimmings, clean and well-groomed as befitted Tok’ra line operatives, resumed their vigil, monitoring the sensors and recording as much data as their systems could allow.

Minutes passed then the first crewmember perked up as the orderly formation of Goa’uld small craft waiting close to the upper atmosphere showed a minor disturbance.
“Jolinar, look, here’s one Al’kesh darting up and out of formation”
“Just was is it doing, Martouf ?”
“Let me see…” The male Tok’ra bent closer and manipulated the controls to focus on the anomaly. A window sprang to life before the windscreen, displaying a magnified synthetic view and a line appeared, materializing the moving bomber’s vector even as it shifted with acceleration.
“Look at this, he’s pulling every drop of engine power !”
“What is he expecting to do ? Charge the Tollan fleet alone ? Even Jaffas aren’t that stupid !”
The pair of operatives watched in curious silence as the vector curve elongated, then started to shrink as vigorously as it had previously lengthened. The lone Al’kesh came to a relative rest minutes later, and Martouf increased sensor resolution.
The picture of a sleek dark grey Goa’uld bomber sprang into view, slightly grainy in the distance despite computer improvement. It was obvious now, the ship had matched velocities with a smaller object.
“A piece of debris ?” the blonde-framed Tok’ra female ventured a guess.
Her partner peered intently at the display, and the small dark mass dwarfed by the spacecraft’s bulk. He got a better view as the object rotated slowly.
“Jolinar, it’s a body !”
“Waters of the primordial river, you’re right !” She added tentatively. “Is it dead ?”
“If not then I pity this poor Tollan crew, my dear”

Tetrarch Vöhn was seriously considering recording a farewell message as the blue-white disk of Atheros loomed larger and larger in his field of vision. His suit com might not be very powerful in absolute terms but the big arrays on the ships should be able to receive the signal. Even a posthumous last word would be nice for his wife and family, he reasoned.
And then something streaked past his field of vision, something metallic and dagger shaped. He froze instantly. In space, evaluating distance and speed was a difficult task even for Drakensis eyes. He briefly considered shutting down every active system in his suit then decided against it. The thermal signature alone made it impossible to become invisible if the Goa’uld had sniffed him. Besides, he thought with a measure of fatalism, either they shot him and he’d be dead anyway, or they’d attempt to capture him… and then he could turn the tables on them.

“Closer, Jaffa !”
The Ship Prime barked his order in the harsh tones customary to his people, and the pilot nodded sharply, hands moving lightly on the hemispherical controls to apply small course corrections. The powerful vessel obeyed every command smoothly, its engines brimming with restrained power, as it positioned its belly close to the drifting body.
There was a bounty for captured Tollan officers, and their Ship Prime had quickly decided to take it. After all, they prided themselves on maintaining the best sensor watch in the squadron and nobody would highjack what was rightfully their prize. Even the Squadron Prime had to yield before the time-honored tradition and allow the Red Fist to leave formation temporarily. A quick dash at the maximum acceleration allowed by the magic pushing the veteran spacecraft and they were in position to retrieve the blasphemer. Their future captive seemed alive, which promised some fun. Lord Tanith wouldn’t mind his brave warriors giving the blasphemer a little lesson in proper worship of the gods.

Their target opened his eyes wide behind his reflective visor as he understood the maneuver. The Al’kesh crew was going to use transport rings to beam him aboard the small utility hold. No doubt they expected him to be a weak, frightened Tollan pussy. Arminius Vöhn bared his teeth in anticipation, his right hand drifted towards the thigh holster of his space-rated Tolgren, feeling the familiar bulk of the oversized handgun just as the ring apparatus silently sprang out of the dark hull. Bright light flashed around him, the weird sensation of disembodied existence and a fraction of a second later the return of gravity as he rematerialized in the middle of the chamber. Fast as a cat, he twisted in mid-fall and managed a controlled landing on three limbs, snapping the gun out of its holster at the same time.
Combat hormones were flooding his system and everything had the crisp clarity of heightened perception. The square chamber, bare except for the omnipresent wall decorations, the smooth floor where the rings had retracted unobtrusively, the door ahead and the two mail-clad Jaffas aiming serpentine zatniktels at him. The two warriors were prepared and pressed the trigger as soon as the Tetrarch came in plain sight, twin lightning-like beams striking the black-suited shape.
Vöhn felt a prickling sensation as the energy crackled over his suit’s superconducting mesh shielding and dissipated harmlessly into the floor. Without conscious action, his predatory grin grew wider, as his gun hand moved up with practiced ease. Tritium-covered sights aligned with the rightmost Jaffa’s head and the heavy bullet left the barrel immediately later, the report thundering deafeningly between the metal confines. The hand moved fractionally leftwards and a second round followed in the blink of an eye, splattering the second Jaffa’s brains on the bulkhead even before the first dead body began to collapse.

The sound of the blasts was still echoing inside the chamber when Vöhn sprang forward through the open doors and found the third crewmember half-turned on his seat, surprise and alarm painted on his features. Before the dumbstruck man could move an inch, the threatening muzzle touched his forehead, right over the ritual tattoo, and an impossibly strong hand closed on his throat in a steel stranglehold.
The surviving Jaffa watched goggle-eyed and a voice came from behind the mirror-like armored visor. It was male, unwavering, and sure of itself, speaking the Tongue of the Gods with a drawl.
“Al’right, worm. Yo’ goin’ to do as Ah’ say and not try an’thing funny… else yo’ll join the worthless meat behind, undahstood ?”

The draka can be quite impressive in combat. I doubt their unethical culture is inherently required for this, so it would be interesting to see a.. hm, shall we call it anti-draka empire?

Never happen, though.

Baughn wrote:The draka can be quite impressive in combat. I doubt their unethical culture is inherently required for this, so it would be interesting to see a.. hm, shall we call it anti-draka empire?

Never happen, though.

I'm not sure what you're meaning exactly.
But later in the story there will be an "anti-Draka empire", namely the Samothracians.

Imagine an empire that uses similar genetic modifications as the Draka, and are equally good in combat and R&D, but also don't use slaves and in general match western ideals better.

They'd have a lot more efficient economy, for one thing, but it'd also be possible to cheer them on without feeling bad about it.

Baughn wrote:Imagine an empire that uses similar genetic modifications as the Draka, and are equally good in combat and R&D, but also don't use slaves and in general match western ideals better.

They'd have a lot more efficient economy, for one thing, but it'd also be possible to cheer them on without feeling bad about it.

Dahakverse ? Granted it's less about pure genetics and more about wankylicious bionics, but it's awesome and morally correct.

Ah, well. Dahakverse technology is.. kinda too much. I'd have to cut down a lot to make a halfway reasonable crossover.

Given that shields can demonstrably be crossed in hyperspace in the SG-1 universe, and every major combatant in the Dahakverse uses hyper-missiles.. well, even the ordinary ones would probably be able to batter them down through brute force.

Maybe the lizards. Lizards vs. Goa'uld would make for a somewhat interesting fight, at least, even if the outcome is relatively obvious.

Hehe I see Draka acquiring a new toy.

xxxxxx


The Jaffa stayed frozen and breathless for a couple of lengthy seconds, trying to make sense of the new situation, and his hijacker thought he could hear the cogs turning inside the pilot’s head.
“Lost yo’ tongue ?” The grip on his throat tightened minutely and the hot metal tube pressed with more insistance on his skin. “Ah’ can fly this bucket if Ah’ need to. Make yo’ own decision”
Finally, the dumbfounded servant of Tanith swallowed a large lump and answered with a dry tongue, summoning every scrap of defiance he could afford.
“I will die for my god !”
“Wrong answer.”
The faceless soldier moved like lightning, his right hand holstering the pistol and grabbing the Jaffa’s chin in one smooth reciprocating motion. A sharp push and the head twisted up and aside in a very unnatural way, verified by the crack of snapping vertebrae. Eyes froze and glazed as the dead body slumped like a sack, and Vöhn dragged it out of the pilot’s chair before dumping it unceremoniously on the floor. There was one more thing to do. The Draka kneeled and removed the dead warrior’s mail tunic, denuding the burly chest and the cross-shaped incision covering the larval pouch. A gloved hand plunged in, probing the wet cavity, found the serpentine shape within and closed over it, proceeding to drag it screaming in outrage out of its protective womb. A second later, the larval Goa’uld fell on the floor next to the dead human, having suffered the same fate.
Wordlessly, Arminius went to the ring chamber, and secured the two bodies there in the same manner, then returned to the pilot seat.

“Okay. Now what ?” the lone soldier asked aloud. His training hadn’t included this, for the simple reason that the Domination didn’t have anything bigger than a Deathglider to play with before this endeavour. At least the controls did look similar, which was to be expected given that uneducated Jaffas were supposed to fly it.
He spared a moment examining the barely-familiar panel, mentally classifying each itemon display. Whatever could be said of the Goa’uld otherwise, at least they created fool-proof hardware with an intuitive man-machine interface. Eventually, he had to move lest the dead crew’s comrades became suspicious. Tentatively, he placed his hands on the twin red hemispheres, having removed his space gloves, and felt the hardware answering to his cautious inputs. With careful and deliberate moves, he plotted a course back to the Al’kesh formation, his mind racing to consider the best ulterior moves.


“Well they took their time”
The brunette Tok’ra identified as Jolinar of Malk’shur nodded with a moue.
“Poor guy must have had a Sokar-style welcome.”
“With luck, they won’t have time to transfer him and he’ll die cleanly in the upcoming fight.”
“Hmm. It does seem like the Tollans have gained the upper hand so far. Of course if even a single Ha’tak was here…”
“All of Tanith’s motherships are busy on Nautona. He’d have to spare more than one anyway, with the defenses here weakened so much”
“Which is probably just what the Tollans want.”

The Jaffa Squadron Prime let an impatient sigh as the Red Fist eventually moved back in position. He considered berating the crew then shrugged. What good would it achieve ? They’d simply gloat at him. Ah well, maybe the coming battle would offer him the opportunity to make prisoners too. Then he could trade Lord Tanith’s favor for the hand of the cute little redhead at his court, provided nobody had taken her yet.
The Tollans were coming close to engagement distance, but the tactical situation wasn’t looking too good. Most of the unmanned killsats were out of commission, and without those to lay down heavy fire support attacking the blasphemer’s fleet would be costly, even suicidal. But as long as they could inflict some damage, maybe destroy a few more warships, then his warriors and himself wouldn’t die in vain.
Still, another voice spoke differently in his head. He was tempted to dismiss it as the voice of cowardice, but it had a point : dying for no appreciable gain wasn’t the best way to serve his god. Maybe they should retreat and then join forces with the inevitable counterattack.
His reflexion was cut short by the sound of the ring transport system activating in the compartment behind. Alas, he didn’t react quickly enough, although to his defense he had no reason to fear anything. After Kopros had locked the palace’s systems, nobody could ring out from there, and the Al’kesh units were configured to accept incoming streams from other squadron spacecraft only, precisely to prevent hostile boardings. Therefore, whoever was coming for a visit had to be one of his subordinates… right ?

As it turned out in the next seconds, he was wrong. Tetrarch Vöhn’s pistol barked thrice in rapid succession, adding three more bodies to his personal tally this day. He chuckled quietly as he reviewed the scene. His little plan was working so far. Sparing a contemptuous thought for his adversaries deadly complacence, he stepped back in the transport room and set the ring controls to his next destination.

“And here come the Gliders” Subcommander Anthim announced quietly, although technically, his statement was superfluous. Everyone could see the shifting icons on the tactical plot, finally coming out of their relative immobility to launch themselves at the Tollan fleet now crossing geostationary altitude.
“Yes” the pleasant-looking Draka liaison officer cocked her head, squinting at the holoplot. “But why aren’t the bigger ones following ?”
Indeed the near-hundred fighters were leaving the dozen bombers behind as they raced forward. The maneuver was puzzling and didn’t make sense : for maximum effectiveness they should strike in concert. Why were the Al’kesh staying immobile ?
Then the fighter shoal started to waver and hesitate, as if unsure whether to continue or not.
“Just what is happening ? It looks like they don’t know what to do !” Ship Commander Olmoc shared his own puzzlement.
“Sir ! Incoming transmission request… from one of the Goa’uld strikeships !”
Heads whipped towards the Communications officer who had just spoken.
“Accept it !” Olmoc’s order came instantly. He didn’t expect a surrender from the Jaffas, but he was willing to listen even if it came down to the usual “Bow to your gods, or else !”.

An instant later, a communication window sprang into existence on the bridge, and while the gold-plated background looked familiar enough, the man looking at the camera wasn’t the expected tattoed warrior.
“Hello Gwen !” the grinning man saluted as if this was a routine social call.
Ingolfsson’s self-control momentarily slipped and her eyes widened in total surprise, imitated by the Tollan officers nearby.
“Arminius ?” was all she managed to say. Her fellow Draka waved at her, the his face grew more business-like.
“Myself. Listen, I’ve disabled the bombers” he raised a hand to stall the coming questions “but you better get rid of the fighters before they get any smart ideas”
He was pleased to see that his interlocutors on the cruiser’s bridge were quick to react. The Tollan commander immediately ordered the nimbler gunships to leave their screening positions and go for the Goa’uld small crafts. The move seemed to crystallize the enemy mind and the Gliders resumed their advance, unable to resist the draw of combat.


Inside the cloaked Tel’tak, the pair of Tok’ra operatives had their attention divided between the sensor picture, clinical and synthetic, and the cockpit’s front window. Not that the latter showed much, at this distance the melee between the small Goa’uld fighters and the larger heavier Tollan gunships was resolved as small pinpricks of light, bright plasma flashing across and short-lived stars heralding a small ship’s destruction.
The largest Tollan warships were barely discernible on the right thanks to the starlight reflecting on their white hulls, like very faint dustmotes drifting on a jet-black tapestry slowly creeping leftwards in the field of vision. On the other side hung the planet, its dark side currently facing the battle taking place in orbit, and small blazing trails signaled larger pieces of debris burning through uncontrolled reentry into the atmosphere. Some of those had to be quite large given the signature they created.
“Look at this big fragment !” Martouf pointed at a zoomed-in picture. A whole blocky piece of starship was tumbling as it fell through Atheros’ upper atmosphere, shedding sparks and smaller debris and surrounded by flames. The spy ship’s improved sensors showed a wireframe schematic of the meteor and the multiple decks it contained, inside which blue dots winked out one after another.
“There are still living crewmen inside” Jolinar added with a mix of fascination and repulsion. The sensors’ clinical picture betrayed nothing, in its machine-like detachment, of the actual horror happening before their eyes. People were being smashed against bulkheads as dead gravitic plating didn’t protect them from their tomb’s brutal erratic movements anymore, or sucked out as hull plating was ripped off by the overwhelming storm of reentry only to be incinerated by friction-heated plasma.
“Correction” Martouf shook his head as the last lifesign winked out “they were already dead.
“So many victims” his partner exhaled quietly and grasped his arm in sympathy. Although a veteran of the struggle against the System Lords, she had not grown insensitive yet even after all the deaths and suffering she had witnessed. Her male colleague spared her a comforting smile and returned a squeeze of his own on her thigh.
“As long as the System Lords exist, there will be war and destruction. But one day a new order will rise, trust me”
“I wish… our race has been fighting them for so long and sometimes it looks like we’ve accomplished little” Jolinar allowed some of her self-doubt aloud. “Millenia of struggle and the Goa’uld are still dominating the galaxy”
“I know what you mean” Martouf replied, every one of us feels the same sometimes, he kept unspoken “yet we have managed to prevent the creation of a stronger, dominant empire so far, ever since Ra retired. Anubis won’t be different, even with his new tricks” he finished with a dash of contempt. “Provided the right incentives and information,” which we so obligingly provide, “the other System Lords can hold him off.”

Something was wrong.
“Martouf, those Al’kesh haven’t moved ! Why are they staying out of the fight ? What can they possibly expect ?”
“Whatever, without fighter cover they’ll last about the same as a comet plunging straight into a star” The male Tok’ra fiddled with the sensor settings for a moment and let out a hiss of frustration. “Can’t scan them while they’re shielded. Could they be booby-trapped ?”
“It doesn’t make sense” Jolinar answered with a puzzled face.
Minutes ticked away quietly. The fight was over for now, the Deathgliders all turned into inert drifting matter and the satellite defenses throroughly smashed. Not that the Tollan fleet came out unharmed. Six destroyers were gone, vanished in deadly explosions or utterly gutted and broken, several more were struggling to stay in position and venting atmosphere from numerous hull breaches, while a cruiser limped behind having lost a quarter of its mass, the tell-tale bright thermal spots on its blackened hull betraying internal flash-fires that had burned through decks before they were extinguished.
The gunships had fared better, probably thanks to their superior agility and the lack of opponents more dangerous than fightercrafts, and the intact ones attached towlines on their damaged brethren to pull them out of the planet’s gravitational attraction. And as the Tok’ra watched, twelve of the sleek conical vessels accelerated towards the motionless Goa’uld bombers on meeting vectors, taking no more than three minute to cross the short distance and decelerate to a relative stop.
Then one of the bombers’ shield went down, raising a notice chime in the spy Tel’tak’s cabin, where its crew watched the events with incredulity as the corresponding gunship shot a towline that connected with the fat spearhead-shaped spacecraft.
“They’re towing it !”
Another chime, different, as the Tel’tak’s sensors focused on the smaller sector of space where the maneuvers were taking place.
“Transport ring activation !”
A short moment later the shield of the next Al’kesh flickered out as well and the same scenario unfolded. Nobody said a word until the process reached the middle of the bomber formation. Then a stunned Martouf shared his tentative conclusion with an equally flabbergasted Jolinar.
“The captive… he must have hijacked those ships somehow”
“That’s impossible !” Jolinar’s retort was heart-felt. The notion that a single man, or woman, could overpower not one, but twelve Jaffa crews was preposterous. “It would have to be a Kull Warrior ! And even then someone should have raised an alarm halfway through !” Left unsaid was no way a simple human could do that !
“Wait, with the shield down there’s a sensor reading coming through…”
One life sign.

“I guess you’re right” Jolinar half-whispered, half-muttered as Martouf shook his head repeatedly. “And the lifesigns are… weird, as if muffled by interference”
“Might be the spacesuit, it is probably shielded. We could go active…”
“No !” the brunette’s counter was fierce. “They might detect us and the hyperdrive’s cold !” The Tollans were likely to shoot first and ask questions later in the current situation, and regardless having to answer their questions would be embarrassing to say the least.
“The council will decide our follow-up actions. I have a feeling they’ll be interested in those mysterious new allies of the Tollan Empire. In the meantime, we sit back and observe, nothing more.”

Atheros, Groundside


“Well, it was only a delay”
Polignac ducked hastily under the withering fire laid down by the trio of Kull Warriors advancing on the plaza and muttered a curse as stone fragments rained down on his back. Leading from the front was the Draka custom and it did have exciting moments indeed. A smoke trail flickered into existence as a hypervelocity rocket streaked towards the rightmost Kull and hit it square in the chest, sending him flying backwards, flailing its limbs comically and crashing in an overturned cart. As it shook itself out of its stunned state, his brethren poured suppressive fire at the window where the offending projectile came from. The Draka gunner was already gone, fortunately, as concentrated plasma bursts ravaged the room and set fire to the stacks of papyrus and writing desks previously used by the city’s scribes. The incoming fire abated as smoke started to billow out of the ruined window and the black warriors focused their wrath on other quadrants, preventing the steadily retreating Draka troops from lingering in the same position for longer than a few seconds.
The Jaffas were wisely taking advantage of this to advance from cover to cover, laying down a plasma blanket of their own. This combined arms tactic was proving more effective, Anton thought, although the Goa’uld troops were starting from an admittedly very low level of tactical proficiency and their progress was still slow against the disciplined Domination soldiers. Friendly casualties were staying low after the initial shock. But those damn Kulls needed to be neutralized quickly. Their ability to soak up punishing firepower was impressive but it did seem to have a limit. If a man-portable anti-armor rocket wasn’t enough, then by Thor’s balls a tank ought to do the trick. And the wide open ground of the municipal square was just the right place.

There was a lull in the din of battle as Draka fire abated, luring their opponents into thinking they could advance again. Two files of Jaffas jogged half-crouched past the houses, firing brilliant bolts through each and every aperture be it a window, a door or a hole in the abused walls, even when thick smoke and roaring flame streaming out indicated that nobody could possibly be hiding inside a burning room.
The three Kull Warriors strode forward at their customary leisurely pace, heads swivelling to check every sector through artificially enhanced vision, but the scattered fires and the Draka armor’s thermal camouflage prevented them from spotting the elusive enemies easily. Most of the time the first detection was due to incoming weapon fire whose origin was pinpointed on the creatures’ helmet display.
They were more or less in the middle of the open ground when the Merarch sprang the trap. One of the Honds surged out of a back street with all the power of its integral electric drive, its turret swivelling towards the black-carapaced warriors as soon as the long gun was clear of obstruction even as the low hull pivoted on its tracks to align itself along the threat axis. The main gun roared once, the blast’s sheer overpressure flattening the various smoke pillars dotting the arena. Travel time was instantaneous and the heavy density-augmented tungsten dart struck the middle Kull right on the chest. The mighty armor which had resisted everything so far finally met its match, its system failing to absorb the incredibly brutal inertial spike and the shockwave of the impact blossomed inside the suit, turning the flesh inside into a mushy mixture even as it was catapulted backwards at near-supersonic speed. The spawn of Anubis’ laboratories was killed instantly, and the dense metal spike coring the tough chest-plate was just icing on the cake.

Even as the dead warrior crashed into a wall like an irregular artillery round, bringing down the rest of the already damaged house on top of itself in a great fracas of collapsing wood and brick and an expanding cloud of dust and smoke, Citizen and Ghouloon soldiers peeked out of their hiding places to take pot-shots at the uncovered Jaffas while the two remaining Kulls struggled to react against the new threat. Four wrist-blasters extended in the same aiming direction and went to full power on the rushing tank. Four streams of high-energy plasma impacted on the glacis, gouging deep glowing craters and furrows in the thick refractory plating, and on the turret front, where it had more effect mainly due to the sheer firing rate of the Kull armament. Droplets of molten metal spurted away like small fountains , stripping the great machine of its protective carapace, and found the vulnerable spots, blasting open sensor heads and weapon ports. A stray bolt lucked out, plunging into the ETC gun’s muzzle just as it underwent the reloading process, and ignited the liquid reactants before the injection nozzles could close.
The premature detonation crippled and jammed the gun, but it didn’t matter any more. The flaming hulk of a tank lurched forward on sheer inertia even as the shower of plasma found its way through abused armor and charred the crew inside their fighting compartment. The veteran Kull reacted with battle-honed reflexes, diving out of the way, but the other one stood frozen in place for an instant too long. Sixty tons of tortured metal collided with the standing creature and flung it backwards helplessly, but not out of the way. The dazed and stunned Kull didn’t have the time to raise its head before the reinforced composite track caught up with its prone form and crushed it under its mass with the last expended forward momentum. Anubis’ prime scientist and weapon designer, Lord Thoth, had envisioned many threats and proofed its creation against those, but the equivalent of an industrial-strength press wasn’t among them. Joints creaked and sagged under the pressure, plates flexed inwards ever so subtly. The Goa’uld minion was pinned under the crushing weight, still alive but unable to breath. His splayed limbs shuddered a few times, each feebler than the former, then went still. Above the agonizing warrior the Hond went through its own death throes as internal fires unchecked by the destroyed fire suppression system reached the ammunition and propellant supply through compromised bulkheads, and the turret erupted like a man-made volcano. Red-hot debris and liquid flame sprayed outwards, starting even more fires in the adjoining buildings as a black mushroom-shaped column of smoke rose skywards from the pyre.

The veteran Kull tried to make sense of the sudden destruction, skittering away on all fours as secondary explosions boomed from the destroyed war machine. A hail of steel was skewering the Jaffas caught in the open and the survivors were running away to safety, wherever that was, forgetting all notion of ordered fire and maneuver. A shard of rage birthed inside the engineered warrior’s mind, born from the loss of its brothers and the shameful panic displayed by its supporting infantry. The shard blossomed and filled its mind, whiting out any superior purpose other than KILL MAIM BURN DESTROY ! inside the jet-black helmet and the Kull unleashed the full fury of its weapons regardless of the power strain.
Twin blue streams of death hosed the periphery of the civic square, more houses collapsed in flame and sooty smoke as their structural members were ruptured, more enemies were injured and killed as they tried to approach but the warrior didn’t care, it just wanted to kill and destroy everything that stood around, everyone that defied the will of the gods and his own might.

Its berserk rage faced its nemesis in the single-purpose discipline of the ghouloon minds disregarding all thought of self-preservation to close with the lone enemy and overpower it. The big warbeasts converged from both sides like a metal-clad tide, falling as plasma bolts shattered limbs and burst open heads in great showers of bloody gore but more came, mustered from Polignac’s reserves just for this moment, and inexorably closed the ring around the hissing Kull. Alone, even its high rate of fire couldn’t neutralize the running ghouloon shock troopers quickly enough and finally the living noose closed upon it. Oversized gauntleted fists punched hard like industrial pistons, beating the warrior out of aim and vice-like hands clamped around its limbs, their collective strength easily overwhelming the Kull’s augmented physiology into submission. As it was held in place, struggling inside its bonds with all its might but helpless to shake the collective grip, its weapons all but useless now, the Merarch walked triumphantly towards the group of abhuman warriors, captors and captive alike. Other Draka soldiers streamed past to secure the square, now wreathed in flames, ad retake lost positions after the fleeing Jaffas.

Anton stopped one pace before the restrained captive and cocked his head in a mixture of curiosity, pride and martial glee. For a moment the two stood facing each other as the Kull’s struggle faded in recognition of temporary defeat. They stared from under closed helmets, faceless mask against blank visor in a silent meeting of wills, then the Draka spoke conversationally.
“Well, yo’ were a harder customer than those cowardly Jaffas, I’ll give yo’ that”
Silence answered for a lingering second, then the Kull replied emotionlessly, its rage drained away as the fight was over. For now, it thought.
“You are not Tollan. Who are you ?”
“Ah, yo’re a inquisitive mind, ain’t yo’ ?” Anton grinned under his mask. “Just know that my people one day will rule this galaxy” he finished fiercely “over the grave of your Goa’uld masters !”
An angry hiss welcomed his statement, followed by a seething retort from the distorted deep voice.
“My master, Lord Anubis, will find who you are and burn your world to the last living soul ! Nobody goes against the will of Lord Anubis !”
“See, this is where you’re wrong” Anton’s voice was pleasant and smiling. He made a cutting sign with his hand and the ghouloon standing behind the blac armored creature gleefully sprang into motion. Enormous hands closed on both sides of the Kull’s head and twisted violently. Host neck and symbiote’s spine snapped together and the carapaced body slumped bonelessly between the restraining arms.

The Draka commander spared a last glance at the dead enemy and the surrounding scene of destruction.
“All right. You” he addressed the ghouloons “Bring this thing to the palace with the rest of the Goa’uld artefacts, and make fast”
The troopers saluted and leapt into motion, two of them carrying the dead weight while the rest jogged around in escort formation.
Another house collapsed nearby. The heat was starting to become unbearable inside the plaza and the blazes were getting out of control even with the lack of wind. Sooner or later the invasion force would have to make a decision.
Walking forward at a brisk pace, Anton spared a glance at the obscured sky. In the end, the decision would come from above, he felt.

Atheros Orbitals
Task Force Avenger


They’d done it. The Tollan fleet had broken through the Goa’uld defences and gained orbital dominance, albeit at a heavy price. No vessel was undamaged to some degree, and thousands of crewmen were dead or missing, a tally that was still being adjusted as escape pods were retrieved, crippled ships were towed into stable orbits and emergency teams docked up to render assistance, and isolated compartments were patched up and restored to atmosphere. Emergency forcefields and pressurized safety closets accounted for many survivors, but after Tetrarch Vöhn’s incredible adventure most ship commanders were hegding their bets that the Navy Board would seriously consider implementing personal vacuum suits for everyone.
The fleet was currently holding station in loose geostationary orbit so as to minimize the energy expended by station-keeping drives, the most damaged units tucked inside the shell provided by their more functional brethren. Surviving Goa’uld satellites regularly came over the horizon only to be blasted out of the sky by the vigilant destroyers and the gunships sweeping around the planet’s curvature.
A different kind of activity was taking place inside the hangars of selected Tollan vessels, where the captured Al’kesh bombers had been tractored in and set firmly inside the grip of the docking clamps. As soon as they were secured, atmospheric forcefields went up and the bays were pressurized to facilitate inspection by Tollan personnel and Draka liaison officers. Two of the strike crafts were sitting inside Majestic’s main shuttle bay, and Vöhn was greeted by a welcome committe consisting of his blonde-dyed Space Force colleague and several excited Tollan technicians.
“Freya’s tits, Armie,” Ingolfsson’s forearm clasped his with vigour, her face beaming at him “you really did capture a dozen hypercapable Goa’uld spacecraft ! Everyone’s already planning how to use them in the counter-offensive on Nautona !”
Vöhn simply grinned beatifically for a handful of seconds, then glanced backwards at the dark-hulled bomber he had just landed, and returned his attention forward, detailing the rapt-looking Tollan men and women. Especially the women.
“Bah, piece of cake” he replied lightly. “Those Jaffas never had the time to understand what was happening.”


Satria Outskirts, Nautona
Near the stargate


The being known as Tanith seethed with rage, standing on the grass field under the frightened gaze of his honour guard, the warriors carefully staying at shouting distance of their fuming master and the sprawled inert forms of their former comrades scattered about. Their fate was arguably deserved : they had fled before the enemy, run to the Chappai’s apparent safety instead of dying for their god.
Upon hearing their tale, Tanith had not been pleased, not at all, and his wrath focused through the magical hand jewel had brought the cowards to painful deaths. Their bodies would remain there to slowly rot, a warning against weakness and failure.
Low murmurs fluttered through the rearmost ranks. The apparent demise of a full Jaffa legion supported by no less than three Kull Warriors was stupefying. In fact, it seemed impossible. The Kulls were invincible, imbued with the very magical essence of the gods, weren’t they ? And that Jaffa legion had been cut of the finest cloth, veterans of decades, centuries of fighting in some cases.

Suddenly every sound was silenced by the loud dull clangs of the chevrons locking for an incoming wormhole. Every pair of eyes watched the fountain-like gush and the subsequent blue surface appear, and staff weapons dropped in firing position ready to shoot anything hostile coming through the Chappai.
The expected assault didn’t come, but every Jaffa flinched and ducked reflexively as three round shapes sailed through, one after another, completed their ballistic flight and rolled to a stop on the trampled grass in ront of the metal ring. As the last one stopped moving, the wormhole flared into oblivion.
Tanith was the first to unfreeze and the closest to the objects, therefore he was the first to recognize what they were. He was also the only one present who actually could recognize them, for there laid the three decapitated heads of the Kull Warriors, sickly greenish translucent skin and barely-humanoid face. The cut was extremely neat, as if done by a very sharp blade, the symbiote’s foreign body sliced as well where it attached to the spinal column.
The Goa’uld stared in the closest head’s glazed vacant eyes, utterly unmoving, then bent slightly to get a better view. There was something inside the half-open mouth… Tanith stooped and pryed the disgusting translucent lips open. There was a slight resistance, like a wire snapping suddenly. His eyes grew wide in realization, and the grenade exploded as the Goa’uld lord instinctly stepped back. Blast pressure and small shrapnel briefly battered his personal shield, an unpleasant but harmless experience for him, although the grass was a little more singed and traumatized and the disembodied head vanished into scattered fleshy lumps.

The distant Jaffas froze even stiller, sensing the mounting rage emanating from their lord. Tanith’s eyes bulged and flashed, his fists closed at his sides then rose to chest level in a posture of barely restrained wrath.
“AAAAAAAAGH !”
The unnatural low-pitched scream tore through the silent field and the Jaffas all flinched to a man. Their god being so angry was never a good omen.



Atheros System
Tanith’s Dominion


The subspace transmission instantly crossed the light-years separating Tolla from Atheros, where it was picked up by the FTL communication array on ITN Majestic, descrambled and piped through the system to the relevant bridge station.
“Commander ! We have received a dispatch from Navy Central, Command Priority”
Ship Commander Anthim heard the duty officer’s announcement through his headset and raised his head from his inspection of a damaged shield generator. His cruiser had taken a pounding in the battle, and while there was no serious damage to the hull itself the strain on the protective forcefield had bled through. Shield generators were sturdy and overengineered, but the barrel-sized metallic cylinder showed the tell-tale discoloration of control crystals and blackened transfer coils indicating cumulative damage. Fortunately, it was also designed to be easily replaceable. Crew technicians were busy disconnecting power leads and data cables and removing the numerous fasteners keeping the device firmly attached to the exterior hull’s framework. Normally, this compartment was uncrewed and unpressurized, inhabited only by power conduits, sensor threads and maintenance bots, but the section containing the damaged shield generator was currently sealed by containment fields for the crewmens’ comfort. There was a gaping maintenance hatch close-by, enabling passage between inner and outer hulls, and Anthim headed towards it. A Command Priority message had to be viewed on a full-fledged display console connected to the ship’s Core Datanet, and the closest one was located in the dorsal engineering bay.
Climbing down the meter-thick hatch space the Tollan officer managed the transition between the angled gravity fields flawlessly, hopping onto the wall that was actually the floor according to the main deck layout, and followed the low-lit maintenance crawlspace to another steep stair case leading to the uppermost main deck, back into the commonly travelled areas of the cruiser. Bare metal-composite walls, uncovered tubing and cable bundles gave way to the brightly-lit, white-painted corridors favored by the Tollan Navy where the various wires and conduits were hidden behind easily removed panels.
A service lift brought him two decks below, and from there it was a short minute walk to the dorsal engineering bay.
Three decks high and four longitudinal subdivisions long the bay was a large chamber devoted to various pieces of machinery, among which Auxiliary Heat Exchanger One, an horizontal cylinder four meters high and twelve meters long. Silver-wrapped industrial-sized piping brought hot coolant gas to the naquadah-based subspace heat dumps before recirculating the colder fluid. The setup was duplicated in the ventral engineering bay, the whole system interconnected for redundancy.
The space not occupied by the heat exchanger was taken by various recycling modules and fabricators. In case of an emergency, the bay could manufacture replacement parts for any ship systems, and the Core Datanet console standing in the glazed control booth where the Duty Engineer normally monitored things could allow access and control over any of the ship’s system, if a command-level officer was physically present and if the Bridge was unresponding (that is, damaged or destroyed).
Such control was currently unneeded, and Anthim merely used the console to view the message from Navy Central.

It was actually short, when he got past the long and complicated routing and security headers.
Goa’uld fleet departing Nautona. Confirmed by multiple independent observers on the ground and monitoring space assets. Six out of ten Ha’taks hypered out at 1823 Standard. Estimated time of arrival over Atheros : 2135 according to known Ha’tak performance.
TA Avenger is strongly advised to start retreating from Atheros space upon reception of this message. Detailed Goa’uld force disposition on Nautona follows.
Anthim drew a deep breath. Tanith had taken the bait. Six Ha’taks were a force that his fleet couldn’t hold, not after the damage already received, but he didn’t have to. The Goa’uld motherships were committed once in hyperspace, but it left a short three hours window to act.


Atheros System
Three Hours Later


“Jaffa ! Report !”
Tanith wasted no time asking for answers once his six-Ha’tak strong fleet exited hyperspace. The besieged planet was visible ahead, a small coin-sized blue-white disk in the distance, and there was apparently no sign of the Tollan invaders. On the other hand there were plenty of signs indicating a battle had happened recently. There were debris fields drifting away in space or orbiting the planet, and sensors also showed the near-constant drizzle of meteors streaking through the atmosphere’s upper layers as unstable pieces of wreckage found themselves inexorably swallowed by Atheros’ gravity field.
“My Lord, I can’t raise the orbital defences other than a handful of automated fighting platforms. There appears to be an expanding field of destroyed Deathgliders as well… and I can’t raise anyone groundside either”
The Jaffa Prime unconsciously tried to imitate a turtle pulling its head into its armored shell as he rattled off the report. His god was in a foul mood. He had spent the whole voyage locked inside his quarters with a selection of slaves, and according to the guards stationed outwards the leather inner doors, Tanith had spent most of that time whipping and generally abusing some of his house slaves, whether they appeared to deserve it or not. Of course, if Lord Tanith decided in his divine wisdom that they were deserving of punishment, then they deserved it. And as far as the warriors were concerned, better their Lord spend his divine anger on a few pissant slaves than upon their own hides.

Every Jaffa on the Pel’tak tried not to wince visibly as Tanith’s hand flexed convulsively to underline the flash of fury lighting his eyes. Thankfully, whipping the girls must have somewhat drained his pent-up rage, for he didn’t kill anybody. Instead he took a deep breath, flashed his eyes again and rose from his throne.
“Where are the Tollans !”
“My Lord, the Chappai is active, but I can’t detect any Tollan ship in the vicinity of the planet”
“Use maximum power on the sensors !” If those impudent humans were trying to lie in ambush then he wouldn’t give them the pleasure of cooperating.
The Jaffa’s next words proved him right.
“My Lord ! Here they are !”
The holodisplay opened in front of the Pel’tak’s viewport, showing the location of the Tollan fleet. But they were far away and apparently speeding out of the system, probably running for the invisible line where their inferior hyperdrives could activate. Taith studied the numbers running through the display himself and spat on the floor with contempt.
“Cowards !”
A rumble of assent echoed around the bridge, his underlings gratefully seizing the opportunity to emulate their master’s mindset.
“Look, Jaffas ! The blasphemers’ ships all appear damaged to a degree. Your brtother warriors have fought valiantly in defence of this world. I will personally ensure that their afterlife is full of wine and women !”
A rising cheer greeted that statement, only cut by Taith’s next words.
“Faithful warriors ! There are still blasphemers on the planet, soiling its sacred soil ! Destroy them in combat and your reward will be first pick of Tollans slaves !”
“KREEEEE !”
The versatile Jaffa exclamation manifested their enthusiasm to fight for their god. And loot.
“Then we’ll return and burn their remaining cities to cinders !”
“KREEEEE !”

Nothing like pillage and burn to properly motivate Jaffas, Tanith reflected. Such simple minds, so easily controlled and manipulated. As to the Tollan fleet, there was no point tring to intercept it. Sure, his own Ha’taks could do a pinpoint hyperspace jump to their location, but the enemy ships were running at high realspace velocities. They would simply streak through his own formation at impossible speeds. A meaningful engagement couldn’t happen without building a matching vector and by that time they’d be over their hyperlimit.
Well, he consoled himself, it was but a respite. They would be destroyed later.
In the meantime, his six vessels moved across space littered by drifting wreckage (which still didn’t amount to much obstruction, given the sheer volume involved) towards the orbit of Atheros. And already assault Tel’taks and supporting Gliders streamed out of the hangar bays to deliver the counterattack.
The enemy force had to be strong. They were able to kill the three Kull Warriors after all. But without orbital support they were doomed to succumb under the wave of Jaffas.
First the Chappai would be brought under control, to cut off exit. Then the whole planet would be combed and any Tollan trespasser would die a painful death. That thought brought a smile on Tanith’s face.

Methinks that the Draka left quite a bit of their Potassium/Naquadah Tac-Nukes, all primed with wireless motion sensors, in order to go all at the same time, when enough Jaffa have spread through the city long and wide. Would be a nice "F#ck You!" goodbye gift from the Draka.....