When the servants brought the woman a robe, I sent them away. They knew, of course, that I was a "kind" host, but some decorum had to be maintained.
"Forgive them, they are idiots," I said, turning to the woman.
"Who are you?" she asked, trying to maintain her composure and shake off the adrenaline-induced tremors.
"Tell me, do you remember who ruled you five hundred years ago? That will make it much easier to explain who I am."
"The evil god who enslaved our ancestors and used them as slaves in the mines. When the people's prayers outweighed the heavens' patience, he departed. Our ancestors buried the Gates of Evil through which his allies arrived."
"Basically, that's true," I agreed. "We're not really gods, we just have superior technology. And he wasn't a major god; in fact, he was comparable to a minor tax collector. When his powers were needed elsewhere, he was ordered to attack another 'god,' and that one perished. Your world was so remote that no one wanted to waste time sending a replacement. My master requires remote mines that his enemies can't attack. And through the Gate, I can deliver this ore directly to him."
A young woman of about twenty-five stared at me, puzzled. I sighed. Explaining the concept of space to a medieval ruler… I'm clearly lacking in communication skills.
"Your luminary is the star you see in the sky, it's just that this star is close to you. Planets can be compared to small villages; my 'sky castle' is a ship that travels between 'villages.' This takes time; for example, it took me two years to get to you. The Gate of Evil is a way to bypass the distance limitation, allowing you to reach any 'village' instantly. My master already knows I've arrived and demands that I mine ore. If I don't give it to him, he will kill me. And between dying myself or enslaving you to mine naquadah, I will choose the latter. Forgive my cowardice."
- Are you turning us into slaves?
"Do you want the truth or nonsense like, 'The merciful god of science and wisdom, Szarekh, has descended upon you to rule. Bow down to him and submit to his merciful rule'?" I even flashed my eyes, to add further absurdity to the whole situation. "Yes, I was taking over this planet. While I planned to rule not like a typical Goa'uld, but rather fairly, that doesn't change the fact that I aimed the Cheops cannons, capable of producing a 200-megaton explosion, at the planet. And also that I have a couple of squadrons of gliders, which the inhabitants of this world will be unable to do anything about. And yes, I threaten this woman, her family, and those close to her with death if they don't obey. But even so, slavery is too crude a description of what's happening." If you so desire, you become my subordinate, who governs the people of this planet and ensures that the naquadah production quotas are met.
"In the past, these quotas were unsustainable. Tens of thousands of people worked in the mines, and all the surrounding farms were forced to supply them with food. In the cities, artisans worked repairing tools. The best men worked in the mines, and this did not bring profit to the people." "Oh," her confidence began to return. Good.
"The Empire is extremely wary of giving slaves technology that allows them to be efficient. I don't share that mindset, so while a significant number of workers will be required, they will work under acceptable conditions. My master doesn't care how I mine naquadah; he only cares about the results. So I will help you improve food production, as well as naquadah mining, but you must obey. Rebellion is an extremely foolish undertaking. I can easily ascend to the heavens and kill all the conspirators. And even if my death is realized, my master Ra has hundreds of petty Goa'uld like me. He will send someone after me, because he needs naquadah, and they will not be as kind as I am. And they will introduce what was done under the previous ruler of this planet: the murder of the families of those who do not meet the quota, constant terror, violence, and so on. I hate it, but the next time you think about riding on my back, remember that my life, and therefore yours, depends on naquadah production. If it doesn't, the High Lord will order my death, and someone capable of ensuring production will be appointed in my place, and my death will serve as a reminder that you can't be soft-hearted with your slaves. And you must fulfill your quotas.
The Queen, or whatever the title of the supreme ruler was called here, swallowed. I had very little information about this planet; basically, orbital scanning showed that this was definitely not feudalism. I had seen past Goa'uld cities located near the naquadah veins. Slaves lived there, and the very structure I had landed on was a pyramid—a Goa'uld residence, where the local elite lived. Considering it was the largest city, it was the capital. In the 500 years since the Empire's departure, culture and construction had clearly advanced: instead of clay houses, there were vast streets here, with various social facilities being built. Goa'uld policy typically drains the population of all available human resources, forcing them to work in inefficient production, which brings no benefit to their community. Vast resources of civilization are wasted. However, I already have my own opinion on this: how to incorporate the naquadah industry into the overall trade turnover of these people.
"I think I'm getting ahead of myself. You can answer my questions about your government. And the very first one: what is your name?"
She tilted her head to see just how dumb I was. I mean, yeah, maybe I'm not the sharpest tool, but I was practically in self-isolation for the second time in my life, and this time without internet. And I had over a thousand Tilk as companions. Although none of my Jaffa were that resilient, and they were mostly young losers, sold to me at exorbitant prices, for whom I still had to pay off the loan. But no matter, they weren't lazy these two years and trained so hard that there was no time for any nonsense. Maybe that's why they took over the pyramid so quickly? In a desire to show off? But it doesn't matter.
The alarm went off, yanking me out of my sleep. There's no one to blame now—I'm the inventor of the alarm clock. It's a hellish invention, but necessary for organizing my life. I've already become a local hikikomori in two years. More like a Goa'uld. I generally prefer not to leave my own chambers, not only because the Jaffa don't expect close interaction with their overlords, but also simply to avoid embarrassing people. Considering I have several levels here, each a thousand square meters, I have no reason to complain. A few minor upgrades have made my room smaller and my lab larger. The previous owner of Cheops, whoever they were, clearly wanted a huge bedroom with a bed, enough for orgies at twenty. I opted for a standard double bed, a reasonable number of closets, a desk with a holographic projector built into it for document work, and a small kitchenette. Essentially, my quarters were a kind of studio apartment, separated from all the other crazy people on this ship. Or did it separate me, a crazy person, from everyone else on this ship? It doesn't matter. The point is, no one had access to these spaces, and I had privacy. Consequently, I did all the housework—it kept me disciplined, preventing slack when you had at least 500 slave servants and a thousand Jaffa at your fingertips. My studies were primarily focused on applied engineering, which would allow for the rapid economic development of the territories entrusted to me.
I knew perfectly well during the flight that if I didn't want to be paying off Ra's loans for the next 200 years, I'd need to improve my work efficiency. But some of these technologies require extensive development. For example, a jackhammer consumes electricity, so I either had to run wires everywhere or have a power source compact enough for comfortable operation. I had one—weaponized naquadah in my staves, but it's a strategic resource and shouldn't be wasted. Ultimately, I came up with the idea of capacitive batteries—the Holy Grail of humanity. Naquadah can store and release energy, so I came up with a new way to extract it, although I probably stole it from Doc Brown in Back to the Future. Lightning generates enormous amounts of energy constantly, and it simply dissipates into the void, and all that's required for such a device is a lightning rod and capacitive batteries connected to it. So, on average, 2 gigawatts per strike—not a bad deal. In my time, the Earth couldn't afford to hold such volumes of energy. The Earth has battery problems, which have never been solved. Using a small amount of naquadah as batteries is a perfectly acceptable investment. At the same time, we can skip the whole nonsense of fossil fuels and switch to green energy. Given the "tribute," it's best not to use naquadah reactors at first.
Tracked vehicles based on tractors were also invented for agriculture, but this was a universal platform. Once antigravity engines are developed, tracks can be replaced with antigravity engines. Essentially, the universal platform, given the lack of an internal combustion engine and the fact that the battery compartment is like a flash drive, freed up a lot of space. This allowed the tractor to be extremely modular: it can plow the land and, with the right modules installed, become an attachment for a combine harvester. I may not be the best administrator, and I've certainly never managed 30 million people, but I at least have a vision for technological development.
I'm certainly no fool. I understand perfectly well that loyalty to my rule can't be won with a wave of a wand, and perhaps not even in decades. That's why I find myself here, on a planet rife with hostility, with a thousand Jaffa whose loyalty still needs to be tested. The situation is, to put it mildly, unpleasant, but it's far safer than remaining at Ra's court.