The Hozgura
Before the dawn of the his elevation to System Lord, then outcast, Sokar found a human civilisation on the outer fringe of the Galaxy, ripe for invasion and submission to his will. His fleet surrounded the planet and at first found little or no resistance. He was after slaves, concubines and perhaps new blood for his Jaffa, with a Queen at his side, all could be accomplished swiftly.
His Hat'aks and Al-Kesh landed without opposition and his First Prime reported many villages had virtually surrendered as soon as the first shots were fired. These people were primitive he told his Lord, carrying little more than swords, bows and spears. He only omission in Ra'ul's report, was that there were very few males in the villages, and those that were, old men and very young boys.
Sokar and his Queen Salisa, made a lavish encampment on a hill over looking the valley he learned form the locals was named in their dialect, the Vale of Sorrow, he scoffed and told them it would be named anew. It seemed there was some sort of suspicion attached to the name. In the first days of being there, he could see nothing but fertile lands tended by an agricultural society. Already he and Salisa had picked some wonderful candidates for symbiotes and young boys who would be made to accept the Jaffa rites. The unsettling thing of these humans, even for the two Goa'uld Lords, was the body self maiming. It wasn't just the odd pieces of metal piercings as Sokar had seen on some worlds, this was at best in his mind grotesque, Salisa could not even look at them and bid her Lord she retire to their Warship. Sokar thought it best as well and with his personal guard, the Goa'uld Queen left the encampment with a small procession down into the valley and out toward the grassy fields where the fleet had landed only days before. Something in her mind worried her as she swayed in the litter carried by eight of her own male slaves. Her female attendants close behind.
Machag looked at he scene below from the back of his horse, his tribal symbols hung from various parts of his body. Bone, metal. His muscled brown frame was essentially covered except where he needed to mate with his wives. The strangers had come in ships of the heavens, not the first, but the first in his lifetime. The wreckage of previous visits lay beneath the warm soil of the Vale of Sorrow. These fools were of the same making of that in his great-fathers time, they never left and neither will these. He lifted a gloved hand, a thunder grew behind him and not long after, twenty five thousand men and women of the Horde were assembled across the tops of the foothills.
Salisa felt it first, her Goa'uld senses attuned to her surroundings. It started as a slow cadence, like distant drums, she pulled back the curtain of her litter and saw only a great dust plume coming from the tops of the foothills, the sun's glare taking away any clear view of what it might be. Nearer to the stationary ships of Sokar's fleet, Jaffa and slaves alike went about their business setting up and arranging the immediate area for a long term stay. Oblivious to anything else, the rumble of far away thunder a minor distraction.
From his solitary position on the hill Sokar saw the first wave of the black horde descend upon the valley, like a swarm of locusts, it devoured everything in it's path. He screamed in mental agony as he witnessed his Queen's cortege' obliterated like ripe corn. A few staff blasts gave a semblance of defence, some of the horseman went down, but not enough. There were simply too many. When it had ended, he saw only the trampled corpses of his army, his Queen's litter a smashed wreckage. Not a single one of his ships had managed to launch, the savages had ridden their beasts right into the bowels of each and every vessel. He was now alone to face what may come, as he saw a group break away and ride in his direction, he lifted a staff weapon, ready to give whatever ever punishment he could, to avenge his beloved Queen. His hand quivered in echo of his rage, as his fingers tightened within the metal of his ribbon device.
With one hand held out before him, the staff weapon in the crook of his other arm, the Goa'uld stood there with defiance, he would not and could not cower to these beasts of the plains. A single rider broke away from the group and came at Sokar at the trot. He bore himself with dignity despite his savage bearing. He reined in a few paces short of running down the robed man and with fluid motions dismounted. Arms on his hips, he bellowed a hearty laugh.
Machag, for all his beastly heritage and customs, was not a fool. He knew that the hordes were doomed if they could not change, they had scoured the continent for eons, ravaged every other tribe and absorbed them. But they had grown too large, the land could no longer sustain them.
"Lower your weapon fool. We will not harm you, though you would not last a winds breath if you tried so much to sneeze. I offer you a bargain."
Sokar looked at the savage human. "You offer me a bargain?" His eyes glowed and he held his hand out, a shot of energy unseen, sent Machag's horse screaming and tumbling back down the hill.
"Impressive, I know what you are. I do not fear you." He lifted his hand. From the backs of his fellow's horses, bows sprang into quick hands, short shafts strung and with a quivering hiss, two dozen arrow heads struck the earth at Sokar's feet, surrounding him, most not more than a hand span from him. Machag spoke again. "You cannot leave, but we need to. This is my bargain. You will lead us from here in time, myself I may not live to see it. You will teach us the ways of the great sky ships and all we should know. Then after that time has passed, we will release you from the bargain, alone, free to go your way."
Sokar perhaps for the first time since he took host, was bewildered, these butchers could have ended him there and then, but chose not to for their own sake. A tool he had, a new army maybe for a while. The memory of what he had, was now dust. He spat on the ground. "So be it. I will lead you from this place unto the stars. The plunder of this part of the galaxy shall be yours." He knew his won enemies would not tolerate his return so soon. "But, journey into the inner reaches of this galaxy at your and my death, there are many of my kin, who would not parley even if the face of doom looked them in the eye."
"So be it then, you will live. For now." Machag smiled evilly, his teeth sharpened to points, made him appear an agent of the seven hells.
The Horde
A thousand of Sokar's Earth years had passed, neither a captive nor exactly free. Only the sarcophagus kept him within some semblance of what he was. Over time he had taken on a new persona, taken in some of the savagery of his captors. They in turn, over generations began to see him in a more 'God' like way, which suited Sokar's purpose. But cut off from his origins, he began to grow restless. He longed for the battle of wits with his brethren. He had taught the Horde all he could. They, with him had burnt a trail of terror across the outer rim, never though venturing near the Goa'uld claims. Between him and his fleet, those many thousands who were it's life and crew, they had conquered worlds never seen by the Goa'uld. Absorbed cultures and technologies to a point where the ships were no longer Hat'aks, or Al-kesh. Save for a very few of the last, the fleet of the Horde was now unique in it's own kind, great black apparitions built in the style and configuration of many conquered civilisations.
The time had come. Sokar met with his chieftains and told them the time of the bargain had ended. Shaytan he had become to them, "The devil spawned" in their tongue. He had done more than any goa'uld would ever do for mere humans, but these were now special. He had twisted them into devoted followers, he had altered their genetic code along the way, to give them longer life. Tired of having to retrain a new 'First Prime' every eighty years or so, they were now, though not Jaffa, something closer and perhaps even better, as their loyalties would not change in defeat as Jaffa would. They would give their lives relentlessly in pursuit of victory.
Grudgingly they let him go and kept the bargain of their forefathers. He left with a final warning, never to cross that invisible line, that separated vast territories from that of the Goa'uld System Lords.
2025- PF6-993, Deep Space tracking Station. Epsilon-3
Chief Petty Officer Alice McKenna had pulled some all-nighters before, but this had been one of the worst. He companion Marine Sergeant John Mcoy, though also of Scot's heritage like herself, had a different upbringing. While Alice had come from an ultra conservative Presbyterian background in Alberta, Canada and had served with the SGC for the last ten years, joining a group of somewhat born again Christians, bent on spreading the gospel throughout the galaxy; John was your typical Marine. A gambler, foul mouthed and thought himself a bit of a lady's man. All sixteen hours of the shift, brought about because two others had come down with Praxyn flu, she spent trying to block out his bawdy jokes and equally sordid tales of his conquests.
Finally to get a moments respite Alice lifted her long frame out of her chair and told John she was going for a private break, he made some off handed obscene remark and went back to checking his instruments and monitors. Something was wrong, here they were on the furthest limits of Tauri controlled space, desolate empty and void, save for a few barren rocks like this one, code named 'Hell's Corner'. There shouldn't be and never is anything out here, yet he was looking at a large formation of ships heading in their direction, a long way out, but nonetheless they were there.
"Ah...Chief, ya might wanna hold off changing your Tampons." He said dryly.
That was enough, Alice had enough, she rounded on him and shouted almost in his ear. "You never bloody let up do you John?" She looked at the screen. "What the..."
Alice jumped back into her own seat and set the scanners to doppler x-ray. "Holy crap." She felt her spine go numb. "They are showing up like Goa'uld technology, but their silhouettes are completely off, more like Wraith Mother ships. Get Killman on the line."
"The lieutenant? Chief he's been up twice as long as us,."
"I don't care get him." She focused on her work, sweat pouring down her face.
John hit the coms buttons hard, the monotone buzz rang in his earpiece for sometime. "Killman, if that is you Alice, I'll have your hide girl." The rough voice said.
"No sir, it's Mcoy sir. We have a delta sir, hot."
"Bullsh*t, here?"
"Yes sir, about fifty or more very, very large ships and escorts, bravo Epsilon quadrant, five days."
"I'm on my way."
Heliopolis Gate Room
"Incoming worm hole, it's Ishta's IDC sir." The control room tech called out.
"Open the iris corporal."
Moments later a tall older flaxen hair commander came through the gate, attired completely in what could only be described as extremely well fitting black leathers, torn and dirty, sweat and blood ran across the top of her breasts, but obviously not her own. She ran down the ramp and up the stairs, Admiral Ben MacGregor, second fleet commander almost knocked her down as he went to meet her.
"Ishta...you look, well." He said unsure of himself.
She pressed close to him. "Ben MacGregor, you look like your father, but I did not come to exchange pleasantries."
"Yeah, I can see, what happened?"
"Four of our far rim mining outposts are gone, my ship barely escaped when we went to investigate a lack of weekly reports. Ten thousand or more settlers, Jaffa and Tauri both, either dead or gone. Those dead, had been roasted alive and many eaten. We..." tear formed in the corner of her eyes. "We began the funeral rites when one of their horrid scout ships returned, they targeted the gate first, then started firing on my two Cruisers. The Joran we lost, I and my group barely made it back to the Brat'ac..."
Ben placed his arm around her. "C'mon, let's go into Ikagura's office.
"No there is no time. You must order your way stations and outposts on the rim to abandon now, they will take out the gates first...Ben they are coming this way. We estimate they will be in this system in less than five months."
"In that case, wait here. I'll notify Joe and you and I will take a little trip, I have a three four o' on standby, we'll be in Sol sector in no time."
Ben pressed his station coms "This is Admiral MacGregor, all gate travel is suspended, lock the iris until further notice." He moved over to a terminal and typed a long message for General Ikagura, to be forwarded to General Carter and the SGC. "Come on Ishta, we'll have a change of clothing for you onboard."
To Be Continued...at some time
Edited, compiled and assisted by all the wonderful co-writers and team at Gateworld Virtual Fleet 4.0
