DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stargate or any of other universes I'm going to crossover with…
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Reviews:
Cklammer: Did you receive my PM?
Stark40763: Who's saying Reed's actions aren't being manipulated by someone? Someone who wants to come into being and are leaking hints and help from the far the future… someone who is the God of Time…
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Hint-Hint
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Don't forget to review! It makes me happier to get reviews!
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Inspired by StarGate: Galactic Imperium » by VexMaster.
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Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, review! Even if you hate this story and want it burned for heresy, tell me. Give me your opinions, suggestions, criticism, hate mail and fan mail! PLEASE!
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Also read this: Clash of Empires... co-written with VexMaster.
Also read this: Stargate: Galactic Imperium… written by VexMaster
Also read this: Golden Dawn... written by Amann
Also read this: War of Gods and Men... written by Amann
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Go to my Forum if you have any ideas or anything you want to say!
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Delusion arises from anger. The mind is bewildered by delusion. Reasoning is destroyed when the mind is bewildered. One falls down when reasoning is destroyed.
Bhagavad Gita
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"Captain's Log, Stardate 62230.13. I have convinced Chancellor Marktok to extend the deadline for relocation of non-Klingon's from Khitomer. Starfleet has already been contacted and has launched a contingent of ships to assist in the evacuation of the… former Federation residents. I don't understand why the Klingon's have decided on this, but we must respect their wishes if we are to maintain the already strained peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire."
He paused continued on. "Starfleet has also requested that Enterprise return to Earth for upgrades that, according to them, will take the better part of a year. However we are a taking a small detour in response to a distress signal we picked up. The language isn't in the computer data banks which makes his a possible First Contact. We have learned though that the language is similar to Old Egyptian. This raises questions however, although I'm confident my crew can find the answers."
"What's our time to arrival?" Commander Martin Madden asked, sitting in the seat where his previous First Officer, William Riker, had sat in before. It was only three years ago, Picard remembered, that Riker had left the crew. Picard remembered feeling pride at the fact that Riker was now going to be the captain of the USS Titan, doing what had once been the Enterprise's primary mission: To explore new worlds and to go beyond the imaginations and frontiers of mankind.
Yes he was proud of Riker.
And he envied him.
"Two minutes commander," his new Second Officer, an Andorian women named Lashri, said, her eyes never leaving her screen. Picard nodded absentminded, still thinking. It wasn't that he was tired of his command; the Enterprise-E was his home away from home. It was… just that he no longer felt needed.
The Klingon's were on the war footing, putting more and more of their ships on their border with the Gorn, while there was mounting tension that threatened the stability of the Romulan Empire.
The Federation needed Diplomats, and he was one of the best in the Federation. He wasn't well liked amongst the Admirals, many of whom were war-hawks who preyed on the fears of many to maintain their power.
The Borg and the Dominion War were still fresh, after all.
No, Starfleet had become somewhat militant. And he knew that there were plenty of inexperienced as well as experienced Captains who could fill his spot. He could help ease the tensions between the Gorn and the Klingon's, help Spock in his reforms within the Romulan Empire. Help seal the deal with dozens of worlds that were applying for membership into the Federation. That would be an easier life than being part of a Starfleet that had lost sight of its origins.
But then, he thought, he was an Officer of Starfleet, and he had pledged loyalty to it. To leave it would to betray his oath, to betray everything he honored. But was it really betrayal when the organization he was part of had betrayed all of the ideals it cherished? He was deeply troubled by that.
Then again, he missed his real home and his family. It would be good, he thought, to go back to his roots and find himself. The Dominion War had terrorized his morals, forced him to do things he would never had done before. He had destroyed ships before, killing an unknown number of aliens and humans in the past. But he had participated in the bombardment of several worlds, killing not beings with hostile intent, but civilians who had never intentionally harmed him or the Federation.
If there was God…
'Who am I?'
He sighed, drawing a questioning look from Madden. "Is there something wrong sir?"
"No," he said, perhaps a little bit too quickly, "nothing."
Madden still give an odd look but then looked away.
He sighed mentally.
"Exiting warp..." Lashri said slowly, "…now!"
There was a slight thrust as the Enterprise's Warp Engines began to slow to a crawl, indicating that the ship was dropping out of Warp Speed. He leaned back, watching the view screen and at the twinkling stars that were so easily within his grasp, so easily within his hands. "Sir, I've located the origin of the distress signal."
"Put it up," he barked.
"Yes sir."
The viewscreen flashed as an image appeared before him. His mouth dropped in shock and he heard Madden mutter something beneath his breath. 'My word… is that a pyramid? An actual pyramid… that's in space?' It certainly looked like a pyramid, almost as big as the Great Pyramids of Giza… if they were still around. "Can we raise a channel to the occupants of that vessel," he asked. He wondered what would possess a civilization to build a ship shaped like an old Egyptian pyramid. The ship certainly wasn't new – it looked weathered and he saw, on the zoomed image, some battle marks.
"No sir," Lashri reported.
He wondered if the ship was a derelict, abandoned. Perhaps they had answered a remote distress signal… by a possibly dying crew. Immediately he leapt into action: "Mr. Worf scan the ship for anyone aboard the ship. Move us closer and prepare sick bay for possible injured," he added.
"Sir, I'm detecting fifty or so life-signs aboard the vessel," Worf grunted, "however the hull of the ship is deflecting our scans – there are the likelihood there are more. They all appear to be unconscious."
"Mr. Worf, what else can you tell me about this… pyramid ship of ours?"
"The hull is composed of an unknown metal and it seems to lack any form of real space engines. It also lacks any visible Warp Drive and it isn't releasing any plasma from the damage it seems to have sustained. The ship does not appear to have any type of shielding although I am detecting thirty or so types of plasma-based weapons on its hull. The sensors are also detecting an unknown power source."
That was interesting – the majority of space-faring races that he'd encountered on his voyages used a similar source of power like the Enterprise. Very rarely did they encounter a starship that used another type of power.
"Understood - Can we beam personal onboard the ship?"
There was a pause. "Yes sir."
"Number One, lead a time aboard that ship and see how many need medical attention. Bring a team of Marines with you as well," he added as an afterthought. Several weeks ago, the more militant elements of Starfleet, which were far too numerous for his liking, had issued declarations that every Starfleet ship, be it a colony or science ship, was to maintain a small unit of 'Space Marines.' Almost a descendent of the MACO units from before the Federation, the Marines sole duty was to act as internal security and to represent Starfleet's mandate of defending its worlds. While Picard didn't like Starfleet's new paranoia, he had to admit they had reason to be paranoid.
"Sir?"
"I don't like it either," Picard said, guessing (correctly,) what Madden was thinking. "But it is mandatory for all Away Teams to have at minimum five Marines with them." Madden only nodded and left the bridge.
Picard leaned back and frowned.
Now came the hard part:
Waiting.
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'Fuck.'
With a curse and groan, Reed woke up. He hurt all over, terrible agonizing pain, pain he never felt before. Oh God how he wanted to scream out but he didn't even have the strength to open his mouth. He was so weak, he didn't find the strength to open his eyes, and it was a fight just to brea… breathe. Suddenly he felt something wash through him, over take and suddenly he screamed. He screamed and screamed, shouting out the pain that had been bottled up in him since the transition. He opened his eyes and saw the swirling surface of the crude Quantum Mirror towering above him like some infidel God upon its pedestal, a decrepit and old fallen creature.
He reached out and grabbed the edges of the upright mirror, careful not to touch the still moving 'surface' of the device. He pulled himself up and stepped away, standing unsteadily on his feet. That was worse than the first time he used the mirror, so much more badly than the last time, much worse. The sensation had been… well, he didn't have a word for it. 'This is your fault,' he thought, glaring at the mirror as he, agonizingly, took a few steps back. His legs felt stronger though. Actually, he was feeling much better now. But he still glared at the beastly mirror.
Oh how he wanted-
'I am the Hierarch… and you… will obey me.'
He blinked.
Where had that come from?
Then he heard something bump the door behind him. He staggered to the door, wiping imaginary dust off his elaborate clothing. 'Thank you Ba'al and your unbearable ego,' he thought. The door split open for him, and he saw his guards laying the walls, all of them unconscious.
Shit.
He leaned next to one of them and checked for a pulse, and was relieved to find one. He did the same thing to all of them, and was again relieved to know that they were all just unconscious, not dead. He wondered what he was supposed to do, nervous about where he was, and if anyone had found him. He had grown used to having guards following him everywhere and while it was annoying, it had offered him protection and a sense of safety. Now he was alone, if only for the moment.
He bit his lower lip.
Nervously and, to his shame – disgustingly – picked up a Staff Rifle and strapped a Zat to his waist. He held the weapon up gingerly and activated it, his finger hovering above the 'trigger' of the weapon. He glanced at it and sighed. 'How hard can it be to use one of these things,' he thought reasonably, 'just aim and look through the site, and fire. That's simple, right? There's nothing hard about that, nope – not at all.' Oh God he hoped he didn't have to shoot anyone yet - at all, in fact.
The Pel'taya-Bridge, he'd go there. He'd have more control from the bridge, and he knew how to activate the sublight engines and Hyperdrive so he could move (thank you Korra, he thought again.) He had spent a little too much shifting through Korra's memories if he was calling the bridge of his flagship the Pel'tac. Loudly, he walked down the halls, holding the weapon up nervously as he poked his head around every corner. Oh call him paranoid, but without his guards to protect him, he felt very vulnerable. He hated that feeling. He found another guard, unconscious but alive.
He continued to make his way to the bridge, finding the occasional guard, and stepped into the bridge after a while. There were several more guards lying on the floor or leaning against the walls – one had collapsed on a console. They were alive, just unconscious like the others, and he moved the body of the one who had collapsed on a console to the side. "Now…" he muttered, "Now…"
He had to see if the ship was damage.
Unlike last time, this 'dimension jump' had been rough, had knocked everyone (as far as he knew,) unconscious. To his displeasure, he found that the sublight engines were barely working and long-range sensors were offline. In fact, most of the systems aboard his yet-to-be-named ship were offline.
Crap.
He wondered why, though, his guards were still unconscious when he'd woken up. Maybe it had something to do with him activating the mirror or being close to it. Maybe that 'dream agent,' had made him wake up earlier than the others, or kept the guards unconscious. He didn't know, and for the moment, he was more concerned with the fact that he was in a disabled warship.
Oh well: the weapons worked.
At least half of them.
Tap…Tap…
Tap…
Tap…
TapTap… TapTapTap…Tap…
He froze – listening to the eerily loud tapping that echoed in the hallowed halls of his Mothership. His hands hovered above the Goa'uld-parallel of a console, feeling a shiver go down the back of his spine. He heard shuffling behind him, and slowly he turned around, his hand reaching towards his zat. 'Please be a guard, please be guard, please don't be a freaky alien,' he thought.
He turned and…
"Oh thank God."
Standing unsteadily on his feet, a guard stood at the doorway. He held a Staff Rifle loosely in his hands, and he had a distraught and angered look on his face. He glared at Reed with such hatred in his eyes. 'Where is that coming from?' He thought, confused by the look. "You…" he croaked.
"Yes me," Reed said, relieved. "Good, you're awa-"
"You bastard!"
'What?'
"You did this," he rasped, "you made me your slave! You… oh god… you made me kill people in your name! You… " He raised his Staff Rifle with one hand, a frantic look in his brown eyes. "You've made me a tool for you to use and kill! You've… you've made me into a slave!"
'Crap! He must have been hit by electricity!' Reed thought frantically. This wasn't good, not good at all. He hadn't ever expected this to happen. Well, he did but he didn't actually expect to happen! He felt his heart thump against his chest, at the prospect of dying to someone was supposed to obey him! It wasn't fair – he didn't want to die on some ship away from home! "It was out of necessity-"
"SHUT UP!"
He clamped his mouth shut.
The guard armed his staff weapon and screamed in anger.
Reed howled in fear as he grabbed his Zat.
He saw light flicker behind the guard, taking humanoid form…
He screamed.
The guard fired once.
He fired twice.
The guard shook violently as a thing possessed as the blue electric pulses wrapped themselves around his body, a stunned look on his eyes as he fell back. Reed screamed as the pulse grazed his body, burning through his thin clothing and scorching the skin beneath, striking against the walls behind him. He fell on the floor, grabbing the scorched skin and instantly regretted it as it only burned.
He withered in pain, pushing out everything else. He didn't hear the four men walk into the bridge and kneel besides the dead guard, or hear their disgusted and surprised whispers. "Damn it!" He moaned. He opened his eyes and saw the fuzzy outline of a man standing above him, a small box-shaped thing in his hand. "Who the… hell are you?" He rasped, trying to hide his burn mark.
"We have a wounded here," he shouted.
He tried to glare but coughed. God that hurt! Was that what he was doing to people when he ordered his guards to… take their time? He felt sick then, and felt ready to vomit if he hadn't pushed the urge down. "Transporter room, prepare to beam two up," the man said, grabbing his arm.
"Let me go!" He moaned.
"Hold on," he muttered, grabbing Reed's arm roughly.
"Can't… leave…" he hissed. God, it really hurt! If he could get to that sarcophagus… he'd be as good as new… "Your Emperor commands you," he added, swatting the arm away, pulling away roughly.
"Stop being so-"
"Get away!" He growled, opening his eyes as he raised his Kara Kesh and fired a powerful kinetic wave at the person. He saw that the person was wearing a blue uniform with a black sash and belt. On his belt was a small device, (faintly familiar to him although he didn't know from where,) and he had a symbol on his shoulders, a saucer with two swords crossing each other behind it.
"Ricks!"
He raised his Kara Kesh in fear, eyes wide as the pain ebbed away. There were four men in the bridge, one kneeling besides his dead guard and the others raising sleek Lego-like rifles at him in response. His hand shook. "Your Emperor commands you," he shrieked, unable to comprehend what was going on. "Tell me who you are! How did you get on my SHIP?" He was beginning to hyperventilate.
"Stun him," one of them men said.
"Yes sir."
He fired another kinetic pulse as the soldier-he guessed soldier-and dropped his arm as the soldier flew backwards. He was scared – he was an Emperor, the person who would rebuild and unite Earth under his banner! Who would travel the stars and the dimensions to bring peace and order!
HIM!
HE WOULD NOT DIE!
The last thing he remembered was a blue flash.