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Chapter 9: Brewing storm
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Part 1
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Heru'ur's flagship
in orbit of Babylos
Moloc's Throne World
Milky Way galaxy
On the way to the bridge, the Force decided to remind me that it was my problem and that I wanted to keep its existence and my abilities under wraps. One of the primary reasons I pushed for weapon testing against Moloc and did my best to sell the idea to Ra was simple.
Some time ago, I foresaw that a future apprentice of mine would be born in Moloc's realm, and she would burn if I didn't act.
Right now, when I didn't need distractions, I got premonitions of a girl screaming and searing pain. I didn't need a bunch of Sorcerers to help me figure out the meaning of the flashes the Force sent me. Moloc would likely go on a burning spree to enhance his power so that he could smite down the invasion force or something equally insane.
My initial plan was to have the Jaffa on the ground hold the line and crush any counter-attack. Meanwhile, the rest of us here would try to agree on how to proceed in Heru'ur's absence. Now, I had the choice to lose a potential proper Apprentice or risk exposure.
I would soon see how much the Force likes meddling in this universe. Unless I could get free rein over Heru'ur's forces for the duration of this operation, there wasn't much I could do. I wasn't about to start displaying abilities that would get all Goa'uld after me unless I didn't have any other option.
When we reached the bridge, I drew on the Force, forcing it to help me find the best way to persuade Heru'ur's warriors.
"Re'ol, get in contact with all Ha'tak commanders. Inform them of Heru'ur's status and the Tok'ra's latest betrayal. Then I'll speak to them." I suggested.
The rattled Jaffa eagerly nodded and ran to a nearby console.
I shouldn't be surprised that the rumor mill was more than all-right among the Jaffa. As soon as a Ha'tak commander got through to the flagship, they requested to hear of Heru'ur's status. I wasn't sure if this was the Force meddling by massaging probabilities. It could very well be that Ra and Heru'ur had a bright moment. There was not one Goa'uld in charge of parts of the fleet. Just veteran Jaffa. That would have significantly decreased the odds of a Tok'ra being in the correct position to cause too much mischief. Like transmitting the location of the fleet or its destination.
Still, that precaution didn't stop one of Heru'ur's attendants from being a Tok'ra, one capable of blowing him up.
What was important was Jaffa would be easier to influence. I needed them to be angry and focused on a target instead of being capable of rational reasoning. They should be eager to avenge their god, while Goa'uld in their place would be jockeying for advantage.
Soon, Re'ol did as instructed, and all commanders knew of the assassination.
"Prepare to record a speech when I finish speaking with the fleet commanders. We'll be transmitting it to our warriors on the ground later." I told Re'ol and went to stand in front of the command throne.
The bridge's holographic system came fully online, showing me twenty Jaffa faces.
"You all heard what happened from Heru'ur's loyal guard." I began, choosing my words carefully. "We need to find out the depths of this Tok'ra treachery before they can strike at us again! The key to it lies in Moloc's palace. We need to know how many Tok'ra agents are down there and capture proof of their involvement! No matter how important, those are secondary objectives! Moloc and his Tok'ra masters dared strike at Heru'ur, your god! At Ra's son!" My voice thundered, laced with as much Force as I dared. "We must take Moloc alive and drag him in front of Ra for divine judgment!"
I got a few roars of approval for my trouble. They were listening, and no one else was trying to take charge. That was a good start.
"Do we have the status of Moloc's forces at his capital? Who is monitoring them?" I demanded in my best commanding voice.
There was some shuffling. Jaffa looked away from the communication devices and barked orders.
"Moloc's heretics are massing in front of his capital. They'll likely go for the Chappa'ai." Finally, a Prime with a silver tattoo gave me something tangible to work with.
"Our Jaffa down there are confused and without leadership. If Moloc's madmen strike them down, they might even win."
"We'll burn them from orbit!" A Jaffa suggested.
"Ra decreed that we save this world from Moloc's heresy, not aid him in burning it down. Further, we need that city intact enough to hunt down Moloc and any Tok'ra in his court." I dismissed the idea of orbital strikes. "Do you wish to explain to the Supreme System Lord how not only we allowed the Tok'ra to strike at his son but disobeyed his orders as well?"
More than half the Jaffa commanders rapidly shook their heads in denial.
"Under different circumstances, the orbital bombardment option would be the right case of action, especially if doing so would preserve our Jaffa. That's not an option today. Instead, we'll use our advantages to crush Moloc's heretics and assault his capital. Recall the assault transports and have them loaded with as many of my Space Wolves deployed on Byblos as possible. We'll have Horus' guards fill in the remaining seats. I'll lead them personally to strike at Moloc's capital. At the same time, our remaining Jaffa will take positions to intercept and destroy Moloc's army in the field. They'll use the combat transports to bolster the blocking Force I set up in case of counter-attack. At the same time, most of our armies on the ground will quickly march to reinforce them. Before engaging the heretics, the combat transports loaded with Jaffa will sweep around Moloc's army and deploy behind them, cutting their way of retreat. Any Al'kesh and Death Gliders, which won't be supporting our assault on the capital, will provide air support for the field battle."
It was a simple plan, one unlikely to work against a professional military. Against Moloc's Jaffa, who had no idea what was about to hit them? It might just be enough to salvage the day.
"I don't hear any better plans," I pointed out to the Jaffa, who kept looking at each other and subordinates on the bridge of their ships.
"I will follow your lead and avenge Lord Heru'ur!" A younger Jaffa announced, anger evident in his voice.
That broke the dam, and soon I had agreements from a third of the fleet. Reluctantly, most other commanders soon agreed. I felt my words worked because the Jaffa were ready to give me enough rope to hang myself. More than a few of them were eager to have someone else take responsibility for the ongoing disaster.
That was more than good enough. Now I could offer Ra something concrete – the option to wreak bloody vengeance on targets other than myself.
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"It's darkest before dawn.
In the darkest hour, fight and pray for salvation!
Salvation can come, even as the blade is about to fall."
Book of the Dawn, by High Priestess Ishta
"The truth, my Lord? We didn't know what to do. The Horus' guard confirmed the rumors. The treacherous Tok'ra struck our Lord Heru'ur. There was no lesser god but Perun, ready to take charge. Some of my brothers were glad about it. Me? He renewed our purpose and offered us vengeance. How could we refuse to strike at those who dared harm our god?"
V'rak, Jaffa Ha'tak commander
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Part 2
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Grand Temple of Moloc
Babylos
Moloc's Throne World
Milky Way galaxy
Was this damnation or salvation, Ishta wondered? When news of the war came, she was elated. Finally, the other gods decided enough was enough and came to end Moloc's madness. They even struck right here, at Byblos', the heart of Moloc's domain!
Rumors persisted that Moloc's fleet suffered an inglorious defeat, opening the way for a successful invasion! The good news continued, with tales of the gods' sending holy machines through the Chappa'ai to smite down Moloc's fanatics.
Elation gripped Ishta's heart. She dared hope that the nightmare would finally end!
She should have known better. Moloc's announcement that Heru'ur, Ra's son, was dead came down like a thunderbolt from a clear sky! Rumors of confusion among the invading infidels of a large explosion near the Chappa'ai persisted. The rumors spread like wildfire from the lips of returning scouts.
At this point, Ishta shouldn't have been surprised by what came next. Moloc demanded a grand sacrifice, a pyre to fuel his powers, so he could smite down all other infidels daring to invade his holy realm. Moloc's faithful priests stroked sacrificial pyres until their fire was white hot. Faithful madmen chanted, ready to witness the horrific ritual.
Ishta and a few of her most faithful handmaidens were supposed to do it. The High Priestess looked at the tiny bundle in her arms. The little Jaffa girl looked back at her with clear, unusually dark eyes and smiled, unaware of what cruel fate awaited her.
Other infants sensed something was wrong. They squirmed and cried in the handmaidens' hands.
"Hush, child. The gods are cruel." Maia whispered from her place, a pace behind Ishta.
"Come forth!" The High Priest of Moloc ceased chanting and commanded in a cheerful voice. "Let a sacred fire cleanse all impurity from our sacred world!" He proclaimed grandly. "Right now, Lord Moloc's faithful march to crush the infidels desecrating our blessed world! Through this sacred rite, we cleanse ourselves from impurity and empower all the faithful! Let this holy fire burn the unclean! May divine blessing strengthen our Holy Warriors! Come forth, sister! Cast down the impure, and cleanse yourself!"
Ishta steeled her resolve and looked at the smiling child in her hands. A horn sang a warning outside. Many others picked up the warning within moments, so it echoed all over the city.
"Come sisters, let's do our duty!" Ishta was surprised at how loud and clear her voice sounded. She slowly walked towards the fire while her right hand sneaked into the bundle, wrapping the little girl. The warm touch of the Zat'nik'tel steadied her hammering heart.
Explosions shook the city, and hope surged within Ishta's heart. One way or another, this nightmare would end today. 'Let it end today,' she prayed.
For the first time since Ishta knew him, Moloc's High Priest looked a bit unsettled despite his unshakable faith.
"Offer the sacrifices, Ishta! Our Holy Warriors need the blessing of fire to prevail!"
"I certainly hope so," Ishta smiled viciously and pulled out the Zat'nik'tel in a single practiced move. The weapon unfolded just as she pointed it into one of the Imperial Guards, flanking the High Priest.
Ishta shot the fanatical Jaffa twice, while Maia accounted for the other one.
"TREACHERY!" The High Priest brayed.
Ishta ignored him and kept firing. Blue lighting raced through the well-lit temple, even as misguided warriors lowered their staff weapons and returned fire. Some of the temple guards charged, believing in divine protection, while others were canny enough to seek cover behind the stone pillars holding the roof.
Ishta ducked under a hail of plasma, using the grand sacrificial brazier as cover. Maia joined her, holding a squirming, crying baby to her chest. Her eyes were hard as her gaze swept over the other handmaidens. A few of them looked stunned at the carnage. Those poor women were terrified to act against Moloc's insanity, or worse, they actually believed in the mad god's creed.
Other handmaidens were too new to the resistance, lacking training and experience. Their shots often went wide. These inexperienced Jaffa were too slow to seek cover.
The same couldn't necessarily be said for Moloc's warriors. Within moments, the screams of the wounded and cries of infants drowned everything else.
"This didn't go according to plan, sister," Maia stated blandly. She quickly leaned around the altar's corner. The handmaiden shot at the servants of the mad god before ducking back into a position of dubious safety.
"It's not like they gave us much of an option." Ishta nodded at the Imperial Guard shooting at them.
Moloc didn't risk something going wrong with today's grand sacrifice. The mad god dispatched groups of his Imperial Guard to escort Ishta and her handmaidens before they could even think about spiriting their newborn sisters away. It wasn't kike they could have saved all of the children anyway. There were still too few who dared risk everything to resist Moloc to make such a thing feasible. All Ishta and her sisters could do so far were to ensure the odd little girl slipped through the cracks so they could smuggle the child away.
A nearby explosion shook the temple. Ishta could hear armored boots running up the stone steps outside. One of the handmaidens shouted a warning, and then there was no more time to ponder their desperate situation.
Imperial Guardsmen poured into the temple and rushed the handmaidens. Ishta put the girl she held on the floor, next to the altar, so she could fight freely and opened fire. Maia did the same.
The remaining Temple Guards rushed them from inside, and Ishta's rebellion ended in a whirlwind of violence. She shot two more Jaffa before an Imperial Guard struck her shoulder with his staff. The hit broke something. A flare of pain shot through Ishta's whole body, and she found herself on a knee, her right arm hanging uselessly to her side. Her numb fingers let go of the Zat'nik'tel, and it fell to the ground.
Ishta cursed and dashed after the weapon, only for her head to explode in pain. Stars danced in front of her eyes, and she hit the ground hard, scrapping her cheek on the stone floor.
The next thing Ishta knew was pain flaring through her side and face as an armored glove slapped her hard. Two Jaffa held her upright, painfully twisting her hands behind her back. Maia and a few other handmaidens were on their knees in front of the blazing altar, all bloodied and beaten.
Temple Guards held the little Jaffa girls that Ishta, and her followers had desperately tried to save, to no avail.
The High Priest was right there, holding the little girl Ishta herself brought in. As he sneered at her, the High Priestess regretted not shooting him instead of focusing on the Jaffa fanatics.
"It all makes sense now how the rot of treachery persisted so long. It should have been obvious that the impure would attempt to prevent us from cleansing Lord Moloc's domain. You will burn in holy flame for your betrayal, false priestess!" The bastard belched forth holy fury.
"Let her watch those false handmaidens die. Lord Moloc will have questions for our false priestess later." The High Priest ordered.
"Damn you!" Ishta managed to spit through bloody lips.
The Imperial Guards in front of her aimed their staff weapons at the chests of her handmaidens. They shot the women without a second thought.
"Throw them into the fire. We need to cleanse this temple properly!" The High Priest announced happily and walked towards the sacrificial brazier. "Praise Moloc! Let this sacrifice wash out our sins and bless us in the sacred fire!"
The High Priests raised his hands as if offering the baby girl to the gods. He was about to toss her into the fire. Ishta averted her eyes, unwilling to watch another gruesome murder, another failure. One of the Jaffa holding the High Priestess grabbed her jaw in his armored fingers and twisted her head up.
"I'm sorry, little one. You deserve better…." Ishta muttered even as the High Priest let go. The bundle fell towards the fire. To everyone's shocked surprise, the fall suddenly halted, even as the tip of the flames licked at the cloth wrapped around the baby girl.
"I am most displeased!" A Goa'uld's voice thundered, shaking the temple.
The little girl floated towards the entrance, even as her bundle caught fire. Despite the many bright flames, unnatural shadows threw everything within twilight. Suddenly it was as cold as the heart of winter.
"What sorcery is this?! Who dares!?" The High Priest finally found his voice.
The Jaffa holding Ishta turned to follow the flaming bundle, dragging her along. It flew away from the finally crying girl, who ended up in the armored hands of a Goa'uld clad in golden armor. Two giants towered above him, covering him with thick metal shields. His eyes shone with rage, unlike the light of any Goa'uld Ishta had ever seen. He gently picked up the child and looked at her. A brief smile flickered through his face before his expression turned back into one of wrath.
"Keep your little sister safe, my friend." The god handed the child to the giant to his left. The large warrior immediately tucked her in the crook of his armored arm and moved his shield to cover his precious cargo.
Despite the hot fires, Ishta could see mist coming from her mouth as she took pained breaths. A blade of fire emerged in the god's right hand. Shadows jumped from all corners of the temple, turning the twilight into near-complete darkness.
The two shield-bearers melted into the shadows, allowing many giant warriors clad in thick armor to replace them. They all had wicked blades in one hand and Zat'nik'tels in the other.
"No witnesses. Keep the priest, hostage, and children alive if practical." The god ordered and melted into the shadows.
A moment later, the god was behind the Jaffa holding children, who they were ready to sacrifice. He swung his fiery blade, and heads rolled. At the same time, the armored giants charged.
"Purge the heretics!"
"Burn the unclean!"
Their war cries shook the temple to its foundations.
The Jaffa holding Ishta shoved her to the ground and went for their weapons. She looked up just in time to see them shoot the charging warriors, who didn't even slow down. The roaring, spinning blades fell down and tore the fanatics into bloody chunks, splashing Ishta with steaming blood.
Moloc's best lasted as long as it took the magnificent warriors to get to grips with them. Then the cruel bastards died ugly deaths. Very soon, the only sounds in the temple were the cries of distressed children and the babbling of the shocked High Priest, accompanied by the heavy footsteps of the victorious warriors.
Ishta dragged herself to her feet with a groan of pain. It was elating to see that now the roles were reversed. The High Priest was on his knees, held there by two of the giant warriors.
Those children who survived the battle were intact and crying.
The shadows retreated, revealing the full scope of the carnage. Not one of the giants was dead or even appeared wounded. The same couldn't be said for Moloc's cohorts. The attackers butchered them all, showing all the mercy Moloc's murderers deserved.
The unknown god put away his fiery sword as he walked in front of the High Priest.
"You almost cost me something precious." The god grabbed the priest's throat and picked him up like a toy.
The High Priest choked and futilely clawed at the golden armor.
"This is a kinder fate than you deserve," With those words, the Goa'uld threw the High Priest into the same fire, where that monster burned thousands of little Jaffa girls.
His dying cries were music to Ishta's ears. She let out an explosive sigh of relief and collapsed to her knees.
Above the altar, a god's burning eyes looked into her soul.
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"Thunder and fire heralded his arrival!
The breath of winter and the deepest shadows marked his wrath!
Hail Perun, the wielder of the Sacred Blade! He is the Lord of thunder and the Master of War!
Pray to our savior and beg him for salvation!
When all hope seems lost in the darkest hour, know this: Perun comes!"
Book of the Dawn, by High Priestess Ishta
"Lightsabers? As it turned out, they became a fashion among some Goa'uld and high-ranked Jaffa. It was our fault. Well, whoever was the genius to add Star Wars to the cultural package, we sent Perun anyway. Perun is a fan, you know? He quickly built himself a working lightsaber and even showed it to us.
From what we can gather, all the Jaffa who saw Perun use his lightsaber during the liberation of Byblos were very impressed. The locals they liberated from that insane piece of work, Moloc, were even more impressed. Since then, 'fire blades' and such became another tool the Goa'uld used to impress their slaves further. It was a new symbol of their divinity and a boon they could grant distinguished Jaffa.
Needless to say, that backfired. As it turned out, using those things as anything but a specialized cutting tool, requires extensive training. Many Jaffa and Goa'uld ended up cutting themselves accidentally, often in front of public they couldn't easily silence.
Nevertheless, lightsabers remain a status symbol. They are most valued by those precious few who could actually use them in combat."
Dr. Daniel Jackson, on the proliferation of Lightsabers across the galaxy
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