Planet Tatamis, territory of the Goa'uld.
Husil of Tatamis Pov.
It's a beautiful day in the village, the sun shines in all its splendor, the fields are ready to be harvested this autumn; the golden carpets of grain spread out in all possible directions. Our territory proves to be so fertile that it still surprises me. My grandfather's work, passed on to my father and now to me, will one day be my son's.
"Father, father."
Thinking of him, he appears as if by magic. I can see him walking towards me with firm and confident steps, his back straight, his head held high, proud of what his family has achieved so far and of what we will do in the future. A smile lights up his face when he sees me, his strong jaw, his eyes wide open to the world and to what surrounds us. One could even say he's handsome, from what I've seen of the village maids who giggle and blush slightly every time he speaks to them, so much so that I must ensure nothing improper happens.
"Rishy, my son, is everything ready for our departure?"
Rishy bows slightly before answering his father.
"Yes, father, the guards are armed and ready, wearing light armor, helmet, spear, and sword; the only exception are the 4 with staff weapons."
Prohibited weapons that must be covered with blankets to camouflage them to the naked eye. It's clear that this wouldn't fool a patrol of Jaffa, but they usually turn a blind eye due to the nature of these weapons and their antiquity.
"Good, good, and the supplies for the journey?"
"Everything is in order, water and food for five days for each of the 10 guards in their packs, and the same for us. The cart is ready with the gifts for the representatives."
"Good, what about Caneba?"
A small grimace forms on his son's face. For a moment, a premonition crosses Husil's mind: that boy was going to be the death of them all. Sometimes, in moments like these, is when I miss you the most, Rechel. My late wife would have been able to keep that boy's curiosity for knowing everything contained.
"Well, father, he went to the Chappa'ai first."
"That fool. By Ra, how many times must I tell him how dangerous it can be to play with it? What will he do if a patrol of Jaffa comes through the gate, then what?"
His son's face fills with determination. From his curly hair to the last hair of his young beard.
"We fight."
"Fool, fight? FIGHT?" Husil takes a breath to hide his desperation with this fool and his friend. "My son, listen to me well. There's no way we can fight the Jaffa, not for lack of courage or strength, we simply don't have the right tools for it."
"But..."
"No, I know what you're thinking. We have armor, spear, sword, and staff weapons, but what you're not thinking about is that our armor is weak, that our spears and swords would break against the Jaffa's armor, and that if we have these weapons it's because they're ancient, older than our entire clan. Ra was not a supreme lord of the system, nor had the idea of being one been born in his mind."
And that was one of the main reasons we could have these weapons. They're so ancient that we don't know if their so-called magic can last a couple of decades or if it will end with the next shot.
His son's face deflates with each word, yet determination still shines in his eyes. Well, having fire is good, I just have to teach him that it must be controlled and not allowed to burn too much or he may burn himself and those he values, those he has a duty to protect.
"But father, what should we do? Live in fear?"
So young, so eager for battle he knows nothing about, the cost of it, the things I still have to teach you.
"No, my son, not fear, but we must be cunning, wise, and act with caution. Know when to choose our battles and when to retreat from them, to not fight a lost battle before it even starts."
Understanding enters his son's face. Well, he's still young, but he's almost a man. I think it's time for his training to pass into my direct hands. I have much to teach him before I decide to leave him in charge of the family business. Besides, to show him the true horror of those who call themselves gods. I still remember it, the sky itself opening like the shell of an egg for that monstrosity of gold and metal to spit golden fire that destroyed everything in its path. He will understand the true risk that this galaxy hides. I will teach him, and we will prosper. Thinking about it, maybe it's time to find a betrothed for him, to start a family. If there's anything that changes a man's mindset, it's having someone depend on him. Well, we'll see.
"Alright, enough of such somber topics. It's a beautiful morning and there's much to do. Let's go!"
"Yes, father."
Husil takes his son by the shoulders and guides him back to the entrance of the village, where the guards are waiting to depart with the supplies for the journey and the gifts for the other representatives of the other planets in the gate network. Officially, only exchanges of goods and services can be made with planets that are members of the space dominated by each lord of the system, and medium or small lords of it.
"Father, when do you think the pond will be ready?"
This question snaps Husil out of his train of thought to look at the construction of the artificial pond being built in his garden. Well, pond is a bit exaggerated, but it will serve a similar function.
"Why do you want to know? I'll tell you right away that I won't tolerate actions that put our family name at risk, especially with our maids."
He says to his son in a mocking tone. This goes over his head as he sees his face blush with the implications.
"No, no, father, I would never do such a thing. I just wonder if it will be ready by the time we come back, and winter is a few months away. I don't want to freeze to death."
Husil laughs at his son's reaction. He, realizing he was being teased, changes to an attitude of indignation, but before he can protest, Husil interrupts him.
"Peace, peace, my son. To your question, well, it depends. You see, this trip will not be like the normal ones we have."
"It won't be? How will it be different?"
They have this conversation as they pass through the portal of the mansion of their family, which is not a castle, but not a hut either. It is quite respectable for a man of his perceived reputation and wealth. With a garden, a future medium-sized pond, barracks for the guards, stable, and training yard, all surrounded by a wall high enough to deter any kind of idea from the more marginal elements of their community.
"Listen to me well, this will be one of many lessons we will have in the future."
"As you well know, the gate network we use is strictly monitored by the minor lords, who report to the medium ones, and these to the lord of the corresponding system. The minor lords are also responsible for receiving payments for the use of the gates, plus the taxes of each planet."
"Gate you mean the Chappa'ai?"
"It's true, you don't know it yet, but yes, I mean the Chappa'ai. You see, the merchant organization uses the word 'gate' as a code to refer to the Chappa'ai. That way, we can speak freely about it. Now you must be wondering why do this. You see, the gate network is actually much larger than it appears. Many planets that have gates are not within the territories of lords, or they are, but not under their influence. And these planets have much to offer, and we have much to give, for the right price, of course."
"But, isn't that highly illegal?"
"It is."
"How can you say it so calmly? Isn't this extremely dangerous?"
So young and innocent. I miss my youth, where I was like this, calming their worries to create new ones that are tempered with age and the moderation that comes with it.
"Things are not as terrible as they seem. Look, to give you an example, planets like Chulak or Dakara are few. In contrast, planets like ours or Avidos are many, and the rest are countless, like stars in the firmament."
He lets him think about the information he just gave him, so he can draw his own conclusions. Having the ability to think critically is fundamental in our line of business.
We're already approaching the main gate during our conversation; I can see the group of guards having a relaxed chat among themselves while others prepare the final details for our journey at the stone post connected to the tower used for monitoring and lowering the outer gates at night; the inner gates are wide open during the day.
"It's not possible to be everywhere at every gate at the same time."
"Exactly, my son."
His face lights up having discovered an age-old truth that hundreds of others failed to see.
"So, is their control a lie?"
"Ah, that's the crux of the matter. Well, the simple answer is yes, but no."
My son looks at me with a dead look as if my wise words don't entertain him, so I proceed to elaborate.
"You see, son, the control exerted by the lords over the planets that fall under their interest is very real and, despite the network of bribes and corruption that invades every part of what it means to have power in the Goa'uld empire, their intelligence apparatus is quite effective within their sphere of influence. Now, outside of this sphere, things change; outside of this, they are practically blind, like day and night."
"But, how can this be possible?"
"In one word, my son, logistics."
I can see the gears turning in my heir's mind just by looking into his eyes, and this movement gradually turns into understanding until it is complete.
"I understand now, father."
"One last lesson for today: there is only one exception to this problem, which is if the planet in question commits the ultimate stupidity of drawing attention to itself, either intentionally or inadvertently."
"The old Olaf."
Olaf von Bismarck, the sole survivor of the attack on the planet Prudencia, remembers what they were and how it ended; now there is nothing but ghosts, echoes, and ashes.
"What do you mean old? That man is only twice your age at least, or twenty less than me at most."
"Well, he doesn't look it."
"His life has not been easy; he was a leader in his village and had to watch as it turned to ruins around him."
His offspring just shrugged as if to say, "What do you want me to do? I'm just telling you things as I see them," and I can only shake my head in exasperation from side to side.
"Chief, everything is ready to depart."
"Good, captain, if everything is ready, then let's depart."
With these words, the small column of 12 people—10 guards, a merchant, and his son—exits through the walls of their villa along the adobe road towards the gate to the stars.
The journey itself will not take more than a couple of hours, depending on the pace at which the column moves through the seemingly endless fields. One could get lost in the horizon were it not for the mountain chains that can be seen in the distance.
As the hours pass and the march continues, what surrounds the column does not change: field after field of different grains of wheat, barley, and oats. The only exception is the small islands of fruit trees: orange trees, apple trees, and lemon trees.
All this richness of the earth represents only a part of the fortune of the merchant Husil's house, not to mention all the cattle that graze beyond the mountains in their volcanic valleys, rich in grass suitable for cows, bulls, sheep, and goats.
"Rishy, my son, come; we're almost at our destination."
"Yes, father, how can I serve?"
"Come, walk with me; it's time you learned a new lesson. Son, if you look at our little caravan, you'll notice its humility. We don't have horses for our cart or guards mounted behind us, and despite being so rich, we wear simple clothes, with only the jewels that have a special meaning or a practical function. Why is this?"
In Rishy's face, you can see how his mind chews on his father's question, trying to live up to what is expected of him while also desiring not to disappoint.
Discarding the most improbable answers and deciding to lean towards the practical rather than the philosophical or religious, he answers the question.
"It's more practical this way; we can move for longer and faster than with a full escort, the logistical arrangements are simpler, so it's food and water that make the burden lighter."
"Yes, all this is true; a man cannot run faster than a horse, but he can march at a constant speed for a longer time, therefore covering a greater distance than the latter. But, my son, the most important thing is what do you project with this way of traveling?"
"Humility."
A smile appears on Husil's face, weathered by time and life.
"Yes, humility. Always remember this; in this galaxy, knowing how to project humility is key. It's almost like magic; people with power never pay attention to the needs of the humble folk. Passing unnoticed through gates, caravans, towns, and cities; they may claim to be gods to the sky and the earth, but we know that not only can they not see everything, but there are many ways to hide from their sight, unless you attract their attention."
"I understand, father; I will keep it in my heart and mind."
"Well, son, and look, we're already here."
On the next hill, you can see the Chappa'ai and its pedestal, and on it, the silhouette of young Caneba manipulating it; the young man was obsessed with anything related to the Ancients.
"Caneba, by Ra, what the hell are you doing?"
"Ah, uncle, Rishy, you're here already."
Exasperation with the situation was painted on Husil's face at the reality that had almost become normal every time they traveled through the gate.
"Uncle, let me explain."
And explain is what he did about how one of the many directions he tried was yielding positive results: first it was one symbol, then two, three, and four, until he was almost at the complete sequence he was about to enter.
After a long discussion, he managed to convince his uncle to see if the gate could connect to the address.
"Well, Cenaba, much to my regret, I trust that you know what you're doing, so go ahead."
The boy, tall for his age, with a lanky body but clearly formed of muscles and little or no fat, proceeded to the pedestal and entered the complete address at the end, pressing the button like a jewel that activates the device.
It began to rotate, and the symbols closed one after another until it reached the seventh, and the portal formed from a completely new address to an unknown planet.
On the other side, from this same gate that was buried never to be opened, the insistence and a bit of bad luck, depending on who you ask, caused the vibrations of failed attempts to make contact to have released enough for it to rotate and connect again, and for the plasma geyser to finish the job in a inhospitable land with walls made of ice, thrones made with iron swords, ice elves, and where the dead do not stay that way in certain places on the map.
Note from the author: Hi, I hope you liked what we've got of the story so far. This is an AU, so not everything will be the same, in fact, much will probably change by the canon date of the book or movie. In Westeros it is 296 AC. The supreme lord of the systems, the "god" RA, is alive. The Stargate is in the hands of the US Air Force. Constructive criticism is appreciated, or if you just want to express how bad or good my story is.