AN: Stargate-SG 1 implied that the timeline we saw in the show was arguably the best. In it, Earth and her allies, got as far as they could, while paying as cheap a price in lives and sacrificed morals as practically possible. We outrigts saw many realities where either wrong decisions, or sheer bad luck was more than enough to doom Earth, or at best, see it pay much higher price for its eventual ascention as a galactic power.

This isn't a Stargate story where a small group of plucky heroes manage to save the day again and again. This is a story about a reality where their luck runs out; about a timeline where relying on a last moment rescue by SG-1 is not a wise policy...

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars, or Stargate movies, TV shows, games, books, or comics. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.

Stars bound in shadows

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Prologue: Sith aren't supposed to improve things...

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Part 1

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Ascendent Plain

Milky Way Galaxy

An endless gray expanse rippled with barely restrained power. The argument had been going back and forth for what might have been as well an eternity on the mortal plane, without a resolution in sight.

A string of ancient mistakes, followed by an outright recent disaster born of the best of intentions. Those and simple bad luck, were more than enough to doom multiple galaxies.

Yet, the only beings who had the power to do something about it kept arguing, even if every single one of them could see the stream of compounding trends and disasters. The truth of the matter was simple – they were all afraid. The magnitude of interventions needed to ensure a favorable outcome was all but certain to get the attention of the never sufficiently damned Ori, or worse.

The Ascended hadn't spent countless years shielding their small part of the galaxy to see it devoured by outside powers before its inhabitants had a chance to rise to the challenge! At the same time, between less than wise leadership, internal strife, and sheer bad luck, the odds of a benevolent power rising and uniting the Alteran's descendants grew more and more remote with every passing day.

A ripple went through the gray, misty plain. Moths of light danced along with clouds that were little more than illusions, illuminating them with a warm glow. Shadows rose in the distance, threatening to devour all light.

Light and shadows danced, clashing, twisting, or entwining into a single rope of power, before falling apart, constantly jousting for supremacy. The Ascended ceased their eternal bickering and took note of the new strange energies infecting their realm.

"Ganos! What did you do?!" The last High Councilor of Atlantis demanded, and his will shook the Ascended Plane.

A blazing ball of light slipped past a crack of lightning and a storm of shadow blades to clash beside the incorporeal form of Moros.

"You screamed, old friend?" Despite her glow, the being once known as Morgan Le Fay, radiated exhaustion, sorrow, and a hint of defiant pride.

"Answer Moros, Ganos Lal!" An ancient Ascendant brimming with power, demanded.

"I did what you were afraid to do. I called a favor. The compact stands. We haven't intervented. The others won't notice that anything is amiss until one way or another it's too late."

"Stop dancing around the point, woman! For once in your existence, speak plainly!" Moros snapped in vexation.

The mere aftershocks of his anger sent their plain tumbling, swirling light and darkness into clashing twisters of odd energies that had no business manifesting in their dimension.

"I told you the truth, Honored Elder. I called up a favor. Our hands remain clean, yet there now is a chance, no matter how remote, that our legacy doesn't damn everything we once held dear!"

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Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy

A self-proclaimed god of thunder examined his new host with hungry eyes. At a first glance, the male human wasn't much to look at. He was shorter than the blond giant Perun used as a meat-puppet these days, dark of eye and hair. He was also a vicious thing, addled in the head.

The human was a catch courtesy to the Jaffa visiting one of Perun's vassal worlds looking for spare hosts, or easy on the eyes servant material for the palace. They found him stumbling near the Stargate, naked and speaking in tongues. The many scars the stranger bore with pride earned him the respect of the Jaffa and a place in today's ceremony.

A check-up by Perun's scientists ensured that the man wasn't a trap – there were no unpleasant surprises in his body, only the hidden scars of even more healed wounds.

Whoever the stranger was, he was a warrior born. Perhaps, this was a divine providence! The heaven themselves providing the next host of the god of Thunder and Battle!

"Jaffa, Kree!" Perun made a swift motion, ordering his warriors to bring the human to his knees.

As soon as the butt of a staff struck the back of his knee, something shifted in the man's confused eyes. Perun watched him look wildly around. When a Jaffa went to strike the human for the lack of deference to the divinity that was Perun, the man reacted, proving to everyone watching he was a warrior born.

The stranger surged to his knees, moving in a blur. His hands grabbed the butt of the staff aimed at the back of his head, and he twisted around, using straining muscles and momentum to tear the weapon from the Jaffa's hands. That was a feat in itself. Without wasting a heartbeat, the man went on the offensive, using the captured weapon to batter aside the staff of the second Jaffa who dragged him in. A few lightning-fast strikes proved that said warrior wasn't cut off to be among Perun's Thunder Guard.

The second Jaffa recovered from his surprise and drew his Zat'nik'tel. He aimed at the human and fired.

To everyone's surprise, the man caught the surging energy blast on the bulbous head of the staff, then thrust it at the Jaffa, who managed to reflexively shoot a second time, just as he got hit in the sternum.

Both men fell to the ground, convulsing under the tender mercies of the Zat'nik'tel.

Perun clapped happily at the demonstration.

"This will be my new host!" He proclaimed grandly. "Prepare him! I am eager to experience a new warrior's insights!"

Half an hour later, attendants prepared the stranger. They cleaned him up, bathed, and covered his whole body with scented oils. His unconscious body laid face down on a marble altar, while ten priests sang a war-chant. Perun's First Prime stood on one knee in front of the Thunder Guard. They were all ready to see their god ascend anew.

Perun walked to the altar clad in simple silver robes, symbolizing his impending rebirth and increase in power. The chant rose to a crescendo, and the god lowered his head until his lips touched the back of the human's neck. Perun surged forth, abandoning his former host. His teeth tore through skin and flesh, soon finding the spine and twisting around it like a parasitic vine choking a tree. The Goa'uld's spiked hood flared and his head struck, biting through the base of the human's skull, initiating the melding.

Perun went through the human's memories with relish, and beheld divinity! He beheld war of unprecedented scale! War Machines this galaxy had never seen clashed against each other, both in space and on the surface of a blue planet! Vast fleets tore at each other eager for victory, while countless worlds burned below them!

Suddenly, Perun found himself in a dark temple. There he beheld yet another miracle! Perun watched dozens of Hok'tars training! He saw them use telekinesis on each other, then lighting, and even draw the very life force from humans until there was little more than a dry husk left!

His host was one of them, Perun was sure of it! The power he just saw, it was his power now! Perun was… Everything in the temple froze. A figure cloaked in hissing shadows waked towards the Goa'uld, who for the first time in centuries felt genuine unease. It wasn't quite a fear, not yet.

"PARASITE! You dare!?" Those words echoed within the twisted memory.

Perun tried to sneer back, but his mouth didn't quite work as it was supposed to be.

"I am your god, human!" The Goa'uld finally found his voice. Instead of a proclamation of divinity, what came out was little more than a croak.

"Do you have any idea how many self-proclaimed 'gods' I've sent to the abyss screaming?!" The dark figure spat in contempt.

Perun did his best to pull out of this nightmare, he even tried to leave the host. Instead, the Goa'uld found itself frozen in place, helpless. A terrible mind smashed into his own, tearing it asunder and taking anything it deemed of value, while utterly obliterating everything that made Perun who he was.

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Part 2

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Slavna Zemq
Perun's Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy

Perun died screaming. Yet, even in death, the bloody parasite was a 'gift' that kept on giving. I really didn't need thousands of years of memories strutting around being useless, or torturing people for the fun of it. The heavy dose of godlike-delusions I could do without as well.

As if that wasn't enough, after destroying its mind, I wasn't sure where my own consciousness began and ended. I could feel both my human body and the parasite that weaved itself around my spine. It was a disturbing and very odd sensation. Thanks to my new memories, it also felt right.

I gingerly got up from the altar, trying my best to tune out the chanting chorus of fanatics. The back of my head stung something fiercely. Every time I turned my head in any direction, I could feel the dual sensation of my muscles, and those of the parasite acting in tandem. Doing so, avoided internal damage due to the parasite's flared spiked "crown".

"Praised be thy name, my Lord Perun!" My brand new, yet very old goat of a High Priest proclaimed. That fuck needed to go screaming – he had a taste for young girls, which Perun used as a means of control and reward.

Thinking about it, most of my court needed to go because of either sheer incompetence, stupid malevolence, or both. With my luck, the few vaguely competent Goa'uld I inherited from that prick Perun, would turn out to be Tok'Ra spies.

A pair of servants – female, cocoa skinned sisters at that, hurried to put a toga on my naked glistering body.

On the bright side, whatever brought me here, and I was somehow sure, this was no incident, brought the Force as well. I could feel both the Light and Dark Side. They were currently in turmoil, busy spreading and clashing all over the galaxy, then beyond.

I looked at my supposed elites, Perun's Thunder Guard. They were loyal, or at least Perun thought so. They were also ripe for the slaughter by any military force worth it's salt. That had to change, along with many other things. But first, my mind snapped back to my High Priest. The man was giddy with happiness at witnessing my ascension, and in eager anticipation of his reward. I raised my hands and drew on the Force. Purple lightning danced across my fingers, hushing the Chorus. Soon everyone in the large ritual chamber stared at me with awe.

"I am Perun! Lord of Thunder! Lord of War!" I proclaimed, using the Force to enhance my voice, and subconsciously layered in Goa'uld special effects for a good measure.

"Lord Perun!" My Jaffa thundered as one.

"My eyes are now opened! I've ascended!" I layered it thick. With the Force at my disposal, I might actually be able to credibly post as a god, while denouncing the rest of the Goa'uld as false idols. The surge of glee at that thought took me aback. Down, boy, that's too much megalomania even for a Sith!

Fuck it, I needed therapy. But first things first, a certain goat needed a reward.

"High Priest, you've been taking advantage of my gifts, of my people put in your charge to raise into the clergy! I've been blind, yet now my eyes are open!" As I said that, I drew on the Dark Side, making sure my eyes glowed like molten metal.

"My Lord, what…" The High Priest spluttered.

Before he could contradict me, I pointed my fingers at the priest and unleashed all my frustration and vexation at my current situation at him. Purple lighting struck his frail body and sent it flying across the chamber. By the time he hit the far wall, the priest was little more than a human torch, still writhing under my malevolent power. I kept going until he was little more than a charred skeleton beyond resurrection through a sarcophagus.

"First Prime, have my Thunder Guard lockdown the palace and walk with me. There is much to do," I beckoned at the general of my armies.

He was a quick thin man, all muscle and sinew, with a face vaguely resembling that of a hungry weasel. Consulting my memories, I figured out it was all because of his eyes – Stephan was a thinker, an oddity considering how utterly devoted and faithful he was.

"Yes my Lord Perun!" My First Prime exclaimed in glee. "Jaffa Kree! Secure the palace! No one gets in or out without our Lord's permission!"

"The rest of you, clean up this mess and get some sleep. I won't need you tonight," I dismissed the rest of the gathering and briskly headed towards my chambers.

This was the bloody palace of a minor Goa'uld, who controlled directly or indirectly eleven worlds in five systems. Even if those were small mining or farming outposts, it boggled the mind that the place lacked anything resembling a proper modern bathroom. That wasn't because the idea was novel, no sire. Perun, the prick, saw bathing below him. If Perun had to get clean, he had servants do it for him. I could vaguely recall that this hadn't been the case thousands of years ago when he was a proper warrior. But now, in an era of relative peace brought by Ra's overwhelming might? Perun had let himself go, and worse, utterly believed his delusions.

So much for getting all those scented oils and shit off me.

First, I needed to ensure that no one was going to overthrow or murder me in my palace. Vanity could wait.

We entered my quarters, and I chased away the servants waiting to bathe and clothe me. The concubines too, noting that most of them wouldn't be legal in any half-civilized world. While Perun himself wasn't nearly as bad as the deservedly departed High Priest, he was a piece of work as well. Of course, he was, I scoffed. He was a damned snake!

I paused in front of a row of golden mannequins holding several ceremonial armors. The craftsmanship was superb. A few of the designs even appeared vaguely serviceable. The only thing of dubious use was an open-faced winged helmet made of Ha'tak armor, encrusted with white gold.

"First Prime, I have orders for you," I began after gathering my running thoughts. I used the force to form a bubble around us, hopefully ensuring privacy. "With my ascension, came visions of the future, and the knowledge that we have all let ourselves go. We're pale imitations of the warriors we're supposed to be!"

I roared at the unfortunate Jaffa, who promptly fell on his knees, and planted his forehead on the polished marble floor. "That will change, starting tonight. Training, tactics, weapons, and armor – that will change. My Jaffa will be the best-equipped force this universe has ever seen before we are done!"

"My Lord Perun blessed be thy name!" Stephan chanted as a man possessed. The poor bastard had a religious experience right here on my damned floor.

"Get up, man!" I snapped at him. "I need you to pay attention. You're going to be damn busy turning my vision into reality."

"You honor me, my Lord Perun! I am yours to command unto death and beyond!"

He meant it. One of the ways the Goa'uld ensured the loyalty of their Jaffa, and got a sadistic kick of it, was to order them to suicide. Usually, but not always, they will then reward the dumb bastards with resurrection, thus cementing their faith and devotion.

It has been about a local year or so since Stephan here gleefully opened his stomach and bled to death in my throne room. The soldier in me wanted to scream at treating loyal troops that way. The Sith in me, couldn't help but appreciate the ruthless calculus behind the idea.

"First, we're going to ensure my Thunder Guards shape up. Then we'll use some of them as a cadre and trainers for the rest of the Jaffa!" I began outlining my preliminary plans for my ground forces, drawing on everything of use I could recall from three separate lives now. At the same time, I used the conversation to confirm I got Perun's memories straight. "How many guards do we have for training right now, and what facilities are available on short notice?"

"The full strength of your Thunder Guards awaits your command, Lord Perun! All three hundred of them!" Stephan quickly explained.

"Once trained up, they will be spread thin training the rest of the Jaffa, wouldn't they?" I fished for more information. Property be damned, I pulled my toga off and used it to get myself rid of the scented oils. My eyebrows twitched at recalling how Perun tended to break in his new hosts – by breaking in a bunch of new concubines until his stamina gave out.

The fact that those memories were now both enticing and infuriating served only to feed the Dark Side. By the Force, would I ever get some proper therapy? Perhaps invading, or at least raiding Earth for a therapist or ten might be a good idea?

I pushed those thoughts away and focused my mind on Stephan's words.

"Perhaps an expansion of the Thunder Guard might be in order, Divinity?" He warily asked.

I paused, reining in my temper and getting the Dark Side aura that did its best to freeze my First Prime under control.

"Don't mind me, Stephan. I'm not angry at you but at all the wasted time…" I shook my head. "The last I checked, we had the bulk of our forces concentrated on three worlds, with small detachments either stationed at or regularly patrolling the rest?"

"That is correct, my Lord! We've got fifteen thousand Jaffa stationed here on Slavna Zemq! Ten thousand guard Pobeda and the forges of Pirin!"

Those names stirred up my memories. Pobeda was a very nice agrarian world that was my domain's breadbasket. It was rich enough that most years we could sell a lot of food without getting my slaves starving. Pirin was my secondary industrial world, or what passed for one by Perun's low standards. There were various useful mines there, along with refineries and forges.

The rest of my domain were small settlements – four dedicated to farming and raising herds of animals for food and useful produce. The rest were mines – a small naquadah one, a bit larger tritium one, and a mix between precious metals and good, old-fashioned iron easy to get with primitive means.

To top it all out, I technically claimed an eleventh world, which had a single tiny village as its claim to fame.

In practice, there were small medieval kingdoms back on Earth, claiming more useful industry and population, discounting my few and relatively small modern fabricators.

"I want our outlying worlds prospected for anything useful away from the gates. The same goes for our three principal worlds, start with them," I noted and Stephan nodded so rapidly I was afraid his head might fall off.

"Status of the fleet?" If the infantry was a joke, armored forces non-existent, then the less said about the navy, the better. A Ha'tak's only real claim to fame was that it was an armed transport, able to smash primitives. The Death gliders were deathtraps meant to kill good pilots. At least the Al'kesh showed a modicum of promise.

It was too bad that I had too few of them.

"We have your pride, the blessed Leda, my Lord," Stephan began.

Translation – I was the proud owner of one fully operational armed transport.

"Five Cheops attack ships…"

Those were ancient glorified pleasure yachts with some guns and shields bolted on.

"And as of today, three full Al'kesh squadrons!" Stephan beamed at me.

A salvaged and rebuild older than dirt Al'kesh brought up their numbers to eighteen. A military power I was not. It was painfully obvious that Perun was even more delusional than I initially gave him credit for, and I was very liberal with it. God of war my ass.

I had my work cut off for me. Now that I knew what I had to work with, I needed to figure out if I had enough time to make any radical changes. I wracked my brain, thinking about Ra. That particular worthy was still alive as far as I knew. In a few months, the Supreme System Lord should leave to one of his yearly pleasure cruises. It was an unspoken tradition that Ra liked to travel over his domain to relax after dealing with the petty squabbles of the other System Lords. And considering he had been in charge for so long, make sure his underlings kept things running well enough to maintain his power base.

If I was right about that timeframe, then I had at least a few months to get my house in order. It would be nice to only worry about the unlikely event of Kali breathing down my neck, or a particularly inventive Tok'Ra trying to kill me for showing sparks of competence. Fuck, the best way to figure when I was, in a frame of reference that mattered, would be to visit Earth. The issue with that plan was that I wasn't even sure I could find it on a galactic map, much less reach the place in any reasonable time frame.