A shadow fell over the Veiled City as Ba'al's mothership, barely visible through the treetops, darkened the sun. He had no pyramid here on which to land, as the city was not designed for easy entry. For the moment the ship hovered; a great drain on its power, but a necessary expense.

There were only two ring platforms, and those were the pair at the entry to Ashtoreth's laboratory. It was the upper one of these which lit up as the stack of rings dropped into place.

A group of Jaffa stood revealed, staffs at the ready. They quickly assessed the situation on the ground below the trees; and seeing no immediate threat, spread out. The platform lit up again, and a second group of Jaffa ringed down. They too took positions. Finally and at the very last, a third group of Jaffa ringed down, standing in a circle, pointed outward to guard their master.

This last Jaffa squadron stepped apart to join the others, forming a platoon of over twenty men.

There was a slight dancing movement near one of the trees, and the Jaffa pointed their staffs.

"Catch him."

Puck was dragged out from behind the tree, squirming as a Jaffa held onto him by the scruff. His eyes flashed on and off several times. "Heyheyheyheyhey!"

A hand reached down and grabbed the front of his collar, promptly hauling him up to eye level. His feet lifted off the ground. A deep voice spoke to him.

"What are you supposed to be?"

Puck grabbed at his own neck, stammering. "I'm ah, I'm Puck, akck, ya know, Robin Goodfellow, the deceiver of fools, eghhhhhhh," he choked.

The voice was disgusted. "Never mind. Who is in charge of this place?"

Puck raised a trembling finger and pointed silently upwards.

He was thrown aside casually, landing in a heap on the ground some distance away.

"Up we go."

Three of the Jaffa stayed behind on the ground to guard the rings. The rest ascended the steps around the outside of one of the trees, following their master.

"My Lord." Nike approached his position from a bridge on the right, with three prettily groomed slaves as an entourage. "May I assist you?"

Upon receiving no reply, she came closer, moving to the platform where he had arrived to join him. She was forced to jog to keep up with his stride. "Allow me to introduce myself. It was I who first contacted you, my Lord, in order to alert you to the situation with this assassin, Ophrenet, who brutally murdered your Queen and assumed control…"

"Yes, I am aware." He slowed a moment. "Ophrenet, you say?"

"That is her name, My Lord."

"Where is she?"

"In the Palace, My Lord."

"Which is?"

"There." Nike pointed, up again, at the next level, where the great palace was visible hanging almost as though in the air.

One, then another, and finally the whole company of Jaffa shouldered her out of the way and changed their course toward the palace. She was left standing alone with no one but her slaves to keep her company.

The Jaffa ran down the bridge to the palace, which clanked and groaned under the weight of their feet and their heavy armor. Two Jaffa knelt, one on either side of the double-doors, pointing their staffs at the ground, waiting for command.

"None may—" the Fates were cut off as a stampede of twenty Jaffa in double columns burst through the swinging doors of the throne room, weapons drawn.

A moment later, they recognized their master, and scurried away, via a stairway affixed to the side of the building.

Following this no-knock raid, a single Jaffa reemerged from the palace doors, and gave the nod. "It is secure, My Lord."

Ba'al threw the doors dramatically wide with both arms. His boots clacked across the wooden boards as he strode up length of the crowded room, actually turning and walking backwards for a moment, arms still wide. Finally he dropped them and placed them in his pockets with a nod.

There was a woman Goa'uld sitting on Ashtoreth's throne. She was a frail, blonde thing—attractive, he thought, but looked as though she'd break at a glance, let alone what he was about to do to her.

"You," said Ba'al.

Netty's gaze traveled up from Ba'al's shiny boots, up the length of his double-buttoned tailcoat, to his high collar, his goatee, and finally fixed upon the face of the master she'd hoped she'd never see again.

Kianna was overpowered by Netty's wave of fear. She fought the urge to curl up into herself, bodily and mentally.

Ba'al hadn't exactly been a pleasant employer; he was demanding and took credit for all of his underlings' achievements. Even laying aside her present situation, she would have been in deep trouble with him for going missing on her last assignment. Returning to him had never been an option; at least not after a certain time frame had elapsed.

"Hm." Ba'al's laugh was dry and short. He rubbed his palms together. "Well, I have to admit I wasn't expecting that. I thought I'd never see you again."

Netty tried to summon the courage to speak. She couldn't do it. Come on, said Kianna. You can be brave. For Jonas.

"New host, I see," remarked Ba'al. "It suits you."

"Thank you."

"Suitably pathetic." He smiled briefly.

Netty cleared her throat. "My Lord Ba'al," she began. "Your visit honors me greatly."

"Does it?" He swung his arms back and forth, looking up at her on the throne. "Well, then, you're about to be even more honored. I've got a special escort to take you to my ship, and a guest room prepared up there just for you."

At that moment, a Jaffa who had come around behind her on the platform jabbed her in the back with the end of his staff hard enough to knock her off the seat.

She sprawled onto the floor, catching herself on her hands and knees.

So it begins.

God help us.

Another Jaffa seized her arms and twisted them behind her back painfully. Netty grunted. "Mm. Twenty Jaffa just to take me prisoner? I'm honestly kind of flattered."

"Don't be. I thought I might be dealing with an actual threat."

That was the moment at which Nike chose to catch up with the group; she slipped into the court room as Ophrenet was being cuffed. "My Lord," she ventured.

Ba'al glanced back over his shoulder as though distracted by an irritating fly. "Oh, yes. Your faithful service and all that. I suppose you're going to be wanting the regency of Sidon."

"That was going to be my request, My Lord."

"It's all yours."

"Thank you, My Lord," Nike smirked and dipped her head briefly. She was practically glowing with satisfaction.

Ba'al turned back to Ophrenet and Kianna. "Let's get her moving."

One of the Jaffa pointed a zat at her, which she felt was just a tiny bit excessive, since she was already cuffed and kneeling on the floor with another Jaffa's knee at her back. "Kree!" he shouted. And then he shot her with the zat anyways.

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