Robotech: The Stargate Saga Version 2.1
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and universes that I am about to mangle around and mash together for my own demented author amusement – sadly all Robotech and Stargate characters and concepts remain the property of Harmony Gold and MGM respectively – I am merely borrowing them and make absolutely no profit from their use. As a result, please keep the legal attack dogs – also known as lawyers – firmly muzzled and on a leash as I have no money to give to anyone.
Chapter Six
Robotech Factory Satellite
L3 Lagranian Point
A Short Time Later
As invisible and as intangible as a ghost – to the few thousand mixed Zentraedi and Terran personnel stationed here – in his ascended form Zor glided through the halls and passageways – many of which were big enough to house an eight lane motorway with ease – of the factory satellite with a very specific destination in mind. A destination that was deep within the very core of this great station – one of dozens like it, and a few hundred smaller versions that his former people had built and deployed throughout their vast empire though only this one, designated as it was as the primary shipyard for the Zentraedi Armada, had ever left Tirolian space – where no Zentraedi had ever been allowed to go. Where nobody on board had been yet as the security systems had the section sealed off and hadn't yet been able to be overridden by the Terran technicians, though they were making impressive progress on overriding the lockouts.
Despite himself he couldn't help but be both shocked and appalled by how run down the station had become. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of damage a fair percentage of which was from combat – being the Zentraedi shipyard the station had been attacked numerous times by enemies of the empire with the Invid being the most common culprits – but the bulk of it was purely from neglect. The Zentraedi who had been stationed here – and who had been defeated by a combined Terran/Free Zentraedi task force just over a month ago – just hadn't known how to maintain and repair the station properly. They could operate the production, cloning and defensive systems but that had been all they'd known how to do.
Something that he knew was by design as the last thing Nimuul and the others like him wanted was for the Zentraedi to get tech savvy enough to potentially turn against them and the wider Tirolian Empire. To compensate for this the station had an entire legion of automatic systems that were there to maintain and repair all systems and all sections of the two hundred and fifty-six kilometre long, sixty-eight-kilometre-tall station. Unfortunately, with the passage of time - and crucially the station's ever decreasing protoculture reserves - many of those systems had either malfunctioned or gone offline completely. With the inevitable result that systems when damaged had simply not been repaired.
While the power issue was already mostly resolved – in the month or so since it's capture several shipments of protoculture had been sent up from the SDF-1 restoring the station almost to full power, only another three shipments would be needed for full power restoration – the Terrans, while they had repeatedly displayed an impressive grasp of the fundamental principles of robotechnology and had indeed applied it in ways that had surprised even him, lacked the knowledge to fully restore the station to life. Thankfully for them he could, and would, help them there and the best part was since it involved him doing nothing that he could not have done as a normal mortal Tirolian those who ruled the ascended – and set and enforced the rules that they all had to live by – couldn't do a thing to stop him. All the frightful old bores could do was scowl in disapproval if they noticed at all – which they probably wouldn't unless he used his powers as an ascended being too much. Plus, I can always count on Janus, Oma, and a few others to run interference with them for me, if necessary, he thought with the ascended equivalent of a smug smirk.
It was at that moment that he arrived at his destination.
With a thought he materialized in the appearance that he had back when he was mortal. He took a moment to gain his balance, he wasn't used to needing to these days since as an ascended being he was usually just energy, before moving over to the large, curved console that dominated the centre of the room. A few taps of the console brought it to life, causing holographic screens to blink to life over the console all of them showing the same request for an access code.
Calmly he entered his personal security override code and immediately all the security lock outs and limits disappeared giving him full access to all systems on the station – including those advanced functions that were normally set aside for Robotech Masters only. Not that those restrictions really applied to him since he, alongside his mentor and long-time friend Cabell, was the principal creator of many of the sciences and technologies that were known by the umbrella term of robotechnology – something that was a never ending source of discussion between himself and those ascended who, like Janus, had been scientists in their mortal lives as the technology he'd created fascinated them as did the Flowers of Life and protoculture as both were one of the few things in the universe that the Ancients had had no knowledge of and thus were completely fascinated by – thus he had master override codes for all of it. Codes that were known only to him and Cabell. It was something that had come in useful when he'd needed to fake orders from the Masters to leave the core territories of the empire on Flower of Life seeding missions. Missions that had ultimately seen him ascend when the automated supply base he'd been at – taking on supplies – had come under attack from a group of Invid hiveships.
With full access granted the first thing that he did was make sure that there would be no security records of his presence here as that would only raise questions that he couldn't answer especially as Breetai and Exedore had no doubt told their allies that he was supposed to be dead. Once that particular issue was dealt with, he began accessing the systems that he had specifically come here to access, specifically the advanced station maintenance and repair functions. All of which were currently offline though it was a relatively simple matter for him to access the operating system for them and thoroughly check for damage to the coding before – finding that the coding was fine and that the systems had only gone offline due to power depletion – resetting the systems and setting them to work.
Immediately the screens came to life showing that the stations army of maintenance drones – which had been sitting idle in their docking stations for a decade or more at this point – coming back to life and immediately beginning to move out to deal repairs in order of priority. Simultaneously swarms of nanobots came to life and began working to repair the hull of the station as it had been compromised in a number of areas by the many battles that this place had been through over the years. Zor watched the screens calmly as the order of maintenance and repair tasks appeared with the highest priority repairs indicated in purple while lower priority tasks were orange, blue and yellow respectively. It was a very extensive list, and the computer was estimating that, based on currently available power and raw material stores, it would take several weeks to complete all station wide repairs.
I suppose that will have to do, he thought before beginning the second of the two self-appointed tasks that he had come to the station to perform. This one would, if the Robotech Masters ever found out about it, give Nimuul and the others a collective heart attack and no doubt prompt some stupefied, horrified staring from them. Not that he cared about what his former people would have thought about it, especially those who had taken his discoveries and perverted them into something terrible. Something that had allowed them to transform the once peaceful, egalitarian Tirolian Republic into the current ruthlessly imperialistic Tirolian Empire. Something that he would never, not even in a billion years, ever forgive them for.
The issue in question was he began systematically removing all the security lockouts and overrides that would have otherwise prevented full access to the stations vast technological and scientific database instead of the limited access that the Zentraedi had been permitted. With full access – including access to several technologies that he'd kept from the other Masters – the people of this planet and their Zentraedi allies would have a much better chance against the Goa'uld who would certainly move to crush them the moment they became aware of their potential as a threat to their millenniums old rule over this galaxy. To say nothing of the Masters when they inevitably came to reclaim the protoculture matrix themselves, though knowing them they would send the Guardians to try and do it first only coming themselves if they failed.
He grimaced slightly at the thought of the Guardian Zentraedi coming to this galaxy. It was almost inevitable that they would, the Robotech Masters would certainly send them to investigate Dolza's death if nothing else, and he had to prepare the people here for that eventuality. Thus, he entered a few more commands into the system, giving it a few new directives to begin implementing – well provided the Terrans didn't override it as he wasn't going to take that control away from them as it would be kind of against what he had come to do – when the Zentraedi fleet eventually began docking with the station for resupply and repair.
In no time at all he was finished with his work. He allowed himself a small smile before powering down the console – knowing that further input from him was not necessary – and returned to his natural energy state. Whereupon he teleported himself down to the surface of the planet materialising in the hallway of a small home on the outskirts of New Macross City. The house was quiet and dark, since it was the middle of the night in this particular hemisphere with dawn still hours away and all he could hear was the soft tick-tock of a clock and the muffled roaring of the rain falling outside.
Which suited him and his purpose just fine.
Calmly he made his way towards where he knew the bedroom to be, passing through walls be they solid load bearing walls or flimsy stud partition walls with equal ease and leaving not even the slightest trace to mark his passage. In no time at all he reached his destination where a well-built Terran male lay asleep on the bed. Without waiting – knowing he wouldn't have long now before some of the other ascended started noticing his absence from there higher plane of existence – he extended a softly glowing hand and reached into the forehead of the man in much the same way the Asurans would if they were going to interrogate whatever poor organic being had stumbled across their planet. His purpose was similar though he wasn't about to probe the humans mind – he didn't need to he had already thoroughly researched him and been very impressed with his accomplishments, especially how quickly he had assimilated and applied the basics of robotechnology – instead he carefully placed an information packet in the unconscious Terran's subconscious mind then he withdrew. The information packet would take some time to unfurl and make its way up into the conscious mind but when it did it would lead one Doctor Emil Lang to the hidden protoculture matrix, help him understand the basics of how it worked – he wouldn't give him everything just enough to get him started on understanding, and eventually replicating, the technology – as well as give him a few other potentially useful ideas.
His tasks completed he teleported himself back to the higher planes appearing in his personal section of the realm of ascended beings, which naturally looked much like the estate in Tiresia where he had lived all his life with his father Zol in the years before the rise of the Masters. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see Oma and Janus waiting for him.
"Did you do everything you needed to do," Janus asked.
"For now," Zor replied, he had been tempted to do more but knew that he couldn't not without risking the others catching onto what he was up to and stopping him. Though he already had a contingency plan in place in the event The Others decided to move against him for the 'crime' of interfering with the lower planes. "All that is left to do now is watch and hope that I haven't gone and made things worse – again."
"You have always acted with the best of intentions of Zor," Oma reminded him softly, "as I told you when I helped you ascend what your people did with your discoveries, the crimes that they have committed against the universe, are not yours to bare. They will answer for their crimes in due time."
Zor sighed at the old argument between them. "My head knows that" he admitted. "Nimuul and his siblings bare most of the blame for the perversion of protoculture into a tool of conquest and war. But in my heart, I cannot help but feel responsible. If I'd never found Optera, never met and mind melded with the Regis I would never have learned the secret of the Flower of Life. I would never have created protoculture then they would never have been able to do the things that they've done."
"You did what you could, with the information that you had at the time," Janus reminded him, "that's all anyone can do, even ascended beings such as us."
"I know that but why does that never make me feel any better?"
"Because you have a good heart," Oma answered.
"Now all three of us should put in a few appearances in the usual ascended hangouts," Janus said bringing an end to the discussion as he knew if he let it continue Zor would beat himself relentlessly over the crimes of his former people and the role he had played in – however inadvertently – helping them perpetuate such evils. It was a common occurrence as Zor still had tremendous guilt for that past, guilt that himself and Oma were slowly but surely helping him overcome. They'd get him over it fully eventually even if it took them a century or two to do it, but then for them – as ascended beings – time had no meaning and couldn't affect them unless they allowed it to.
"The diner or that recreation of a Roman bathhouse?" Oma questioned.
"The diner I don't fancy the bathhouse today," Zor replied with a slight smile. While the bathhouse was a fun – and actually reminded him somewhat of some of the places he'd visited on Praxis – place to hang out it was also the most popular of ascended hang out spots. If he went there he would inevitably be drawn into a discussion about protoculture, the Flowers of Life and robotechnology with other ascended, especially those who had been scientists and engineers when they were mortal.
Which was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
"You just want to see me in my waitress get-up," Oma quipped with a smile, though she knew the real reason why Zor wanted to go to the diner. It was quieter and he was less likely to be mobbed by curious former scientists.
"Well, you have to admit you look good in it Oma," Janus pointed out causing Zor to laugh and Oma to blush, well as far as a being who was made entirely of energy could blush. Without waiting for the inevitable comeback from Oma, he teleported himself away to the recreation of a 1930's North American diner that had become quite a popular hang-out place for many of the ascended. At least those who wanted a quiet place to hang out that wasn't a recreation of one of the Great Libraries. Zor and Oma exchanged an amused look at his quick retreat before teleporting after him.
Hidden Base
Dolomite Mountains, Italy
That Same Time
Vosegus slowly opened the eyes of his new host body. He was aware that his scientists had wanted to run a few more tests on the clone – especially as this was the first time, they'd ever created a being from scratch –before he transferred himself into it, but fate had had other ideas. It had been obvious for a while that his previous host – who he had inhabited since he'd been forced to take the Prussian cavalry officer as a host at the Battle of Jena-Auerstedt in 1806, after the French officer he'd been inhabiting at the time was wounded beyond his ability to heal – was coming to the end of his usefulness as even a Goa'uld could only keep a host body alive for so long without the aid of a sarcophagus device – which he had never owned as back when he'd been an underlord of Camulus they'd been reserved for System Lords only – after all. The host had abruptly taken a turn for the worst earlier this morning. He'd known instantly that the host would not last out the day, meaning that they hadn't had time to do the final series of checks that they had been hoping to do on the clone after it had been decanted for a day or so.
"My lord, are you alright," his lead scientist asked seeing his eyes open.
"I am fine," Vosegus replied as he sat up, finding controlling the clones motor functions as effortless as it would be controlling any other host body. Yet there was something different, something that he couldn't immediately put his fingers on. Then he realized what the problem was, well not so much a problem as something he had not anticipated but now that he really thought about it should have that was unusual. He couldn't hear the thoughts of his host, couldn't hear them cursing him from their prison at the back of his mind. It was strange and different, as this body had had no mind before he'd entered it, but something that he was sure he would get used to eventually.
"No problems controlling the clone my lord?"
"None whatsoever," Vosegus answered as he swung his new legs off the edge of the bed and stood up, pleased to find that there was indeed no problem controlling the body of this bioengineered clone. He, took a few moments to look around, noticing the covered gurney that held the lifeless form of what had been his body for the last two hundred and seven years. While it hadn't been his first choice of a new body to inhabit – he had originally planned to take Napoleon himself as a host when the time came as the man's military genius would have been highly useful, but it had sadly been not to be fate could on occasion be a right pain in the backside as it was one of the few forces that even a Goa'uld couldn't defy – but it had served him well enough. "Ensure that my previous host's body is disposed of with dignity."
"As you wish my lord. My lord I should inform you that Elena is waiting with some appropriate clothing in the next room."
"Excellent. Have we received any word from our operative at Fort Minotaur? Is Prime dead yet?"
The scientist blanched at the question and alarm bells began going off in Vosegus head. He did not like that look as it meant that once again something had gone wrong, big time. "What has happened," he demanded as he picked up his kara'kesh from a side table and slipped it on. "Speak."
The scientist gulped and took the plunge hoping that he would soon not find himself on the wrong end of his liege's infamous temper. "I am afraid not my lord," the scientist answered praying silently that the bound to be enraged living god didn't decide to send him flying across the room or decide to fry his brain, "our operatives in the defence council support staff report his attempt was foiled."
"Foiled! How?"
"While our information is currently limited it appears that he was stopped by a pair of UEDF STORM Commandoes."
"STORM Commandoes! What were they doing there?" Vosegus demanded knowing that the Special Tactical Operations and Reconnaissance Marine Commandoes were one of the elite special forces of the United Earth Defence Forces drawing their training and members from the top-flight of the pre-Unification Worlds special forces organisations. Which when combined with the fact that the UEDF had given them the best technology and biogenetic augmentations available made them once of the most formidable and deadly special forces units to ever exist. They were one of the few he would admit to be a match for his Jafftari forces in a straight up physical confrontation.
"I am not sure my lord but if I had to guess I would say that they were there to protect the imprinter that has since been used on Prime to remove the persona you created for him."
Oh fuck. Of all the Anubis-cursed luck, Vosegus thought with a scowl feeling his rage begin to build, though strangely it was not as instant and fiery as it normally was. A part of him wondered if the fact that his body had had no mind of its own had something to do with it. He would have to ponder that later as he was well aware that his temper was one of the few areas where he was vulnerable – it was not an unknown problem among Goa'uld. Right now, though he had other things to worry about, if they had successfully removed the constructed persona from Prime – which on top of the death of the nish'ta in his system would let the body's originally personality matrix reassert itself – then the location of this base was compromised.
Prime after all knew exactly where this place was and thus the original personality – Nathan something if he remembered right – would know as well. Know and certainly tell the people on Fort Minotaur when they inevitably debriefed him. Who would then tell the Defence Council who would quicky mobilize forces against this base and he was under no illusions of their chances of repelling a major attack by forces equipped with state of the art robotech weaponry. That would be an attack that would be beyond their ability to repel at this time.
"I see," he said at last ignoring the way the scientist's shoulders dropped in relief as the human realised that he wasn't about to lose it and sending him flying across the room with a repulsor blast. "Have all senior department leaders meet me in the throne room in ten minutes. In the meantime, I want you to begin preparations to evacuate all critical supplies and equipment to our secondary base in the Urals."
"As you wish my lord."
Vosegus smiled pleased, before turning and beginning to make his way out of the room to the nearby chamber where Elena would be waiting with a choice of clothing sized for this new body. A body that was taller and more muscular than anybody he had inhabited to date. Normally he would spend awhile with his lotaur choosing which set of clothes to wear and which to mix together for that particular day – he was often spoilt for choice as the people of this planet had so many different styles of clothing, and materials to choose from – but today he would not have time. He would just dress in something comfortable and make his way to the throne room where he would have to organise the abandonment and destruction of this base and their transport to their nearest secondary base in the Ural Mountains of Western Russia. Something that with the current tensions between the UEG and EBSIS = and the fact that both heavily patrolled the border – would not be easy to arrange but he would manage it. He had done such things many times before over the centuries and was far more successful at quietly moving bases than that fool Setesh – who he frankly didn't have to worry about anymore as the fool had been killed when his new base in San Francisco was like the city around it destroyed during the Zentraedi bombardment of the planet – had been.
Once those decisions were made, and his minions/worshippers set to work making the appropriate preparations and beginning to carry them out, he would hopefully have time to sit and start thinking. Thinking about how he was going to both salvage something from this disaster, how he was going to keep his brainwashed operatives from being discovered by his enemies – as it certainly wouldn't take the UEDF and UEG long to come up with a blood test capable of detecting the presence of nish'ta in a body – and how he was ultimately going to make those responsible for this latest setback pay.
Authors Note: Well. another chapter bites the dust I hope you all enjoyed it. This chapter brings us to the end of part one of this story in the next part they will begin going through the Stargate and here is where events will really begin changing more from the first version of the story.