April 1948. Urvashi.
These six months have drained me dry. Helping the Caribbean Legion, managing supply chains, monitoring Cimmeria to make sure they don't establish another colony there. And that's just a small part of it! And for all this, Asgard teleports me into space "to clear my head." Then there's naquadah supplies, repaying loans, setting up production of electric motors for cars in medieval conditions! And all this while preparing for the attack on the Praktiki. More precisely, the attack has been in preparation for a long time; all I have to do is analyze the data. If I were human, I would have long ago suffered exhaustion and a nervous breakdown.
I also can't forget my reputation as a "phaeron," one of the methods I used to earn the respect and love of these people—outsourcing Hathor's sarcophagus. Instead of dragging the sick to the sarcophagus, I decided to drag the sarcophagus to the sick. It's easy for me: assign a Teltak for this purpose and paint it with the local symbol of doctors. The ship itself maintained contact with the Ministry of Health, which Isara had deployed at speeds comparable to the speed of light. Of course, there were carrier ships with doctors on Urvashi, and a centralized education system was established, but due to the sprawling nature of communications, a unified system didn't exist. This was accomplished through radio and computer systems, a sort of "garage internet." And if a situation arose where a disease was undetectable by local authorities or considered fatal, a Teltak would be dispatched. In the first months, he even flew to treat appendicitis, though local doctors later learned to remove it using anesthesia and surgery. It was precisely these kinds of actions, when a citizen knew that even in the most desperate situation, a doctor would help them by invoking an alien god, that built a new level of trust. And those cured became walking advertisements, telling everyone about their experiences. This shifted his approval rating from zero to positive. It was good that he didn't start out like most Goa'uld – with a negative rating.
Isara is some kind of manager for the Ancients. I haven't met them, but I imagine that's how they work. Given the ability to inspect literally every facility thanks to her personal glider, she was zipping around the continent. I contacted her as if she were Ra, only via comm. But Ra is now half a galaxy away (I sincerely hope), and Isara is on the same planet. While I could talk to a couple of people on Earth, she was communicating with 200-300, signing various contracts, deliveries, and so on. Although, perhaps this is how she's plotting a coup against me. But I still think it's the development of her planet. Sometimes I even feel sorry for her; I feel a bit like a slave trader.
Of course, I'm working hard myself. I've found uranium reserves here, so I can start mining them, then I'll refine them in naquadah ore refineries, and then enrich them in the same refineries (or do you think naquadah is produced by heating?). I can do this up to 90% and beyond; with better technology, I won't have any problems with electricity. Then I'll be able to build nuclear reactors with direct energy extraction technology, without the "water wheel," and perhaps even start building much better power generation systems. Yes, I'm on a planet with naquadah, which is a much better fuel than uranium, and objectively speaking, there's much more of it here than uranium, at least on this particular planet. But the point is, I don't want to waste too many strategic resources. At the same time, uranium can be found in asteroids in the future. Besides, naquadah is needed for ship generators, weapons, and other technologies, so essentially I'm saving money. With the expansion of nuclear power, a huge surplus of available energy will be created, and if I also find Harlan's technology, I will be absolutely happy.
However, I haven't had time for that yet. I found the Mongols among the planets in the series, which aren't of interest to me, but I set up a trading outpost, just in case. I also found that planet with the bright sun; the locals, as usual, mistook me for a god after a couple of tricks. I left 10 Jaffa there to monitor the situation and also set up a trading outpost. There's no wildlife on the planets, and fur trading isn't an option, so subsistence farming and food production are the only options. And also because there was still naquadah there, deep in the mines, but it requires sophisticated equipment, reorientation of the mines, modernization, and training of the locals. Building any kind of city with internal defenses and all that is a fairly complex engineering project, and organizationally even more challenging. I honestly asked Isara and the others if they knew anyone stupid enough to want to develop such a planet. They, with all the politically correct phrases possible, replied that the only idiot in their circle was me.
In fact, our operational capabilities weren't up to par with what I'd set up here. So, I have Earth—Israel and five Latin American countries, Icarus (yes, I found it!), Heliopolis, Cimmeria, and a planet with natives. I'm literally having to scramble to set up all the logistics myself. It's going to take a lot of work to figure it all out, and I'll also have time for engineering. Heliopolis had naquadah reserves, as it turns out it was the capital of Ra before it was destroyed by three races from the Alliance of Great Races. So, what remains are the remains of cities, construction sites, and mines. There were plenty of mines, but no people—a naquadah mine is only valuable when there's a population capable of extracting it, like on a planet with natives who have problems with solar radiation. The population is too slow to modernize, which will require investment and the recruitment of workers from other fields. And to prevent the natives from dying from labor, we need full-fledged hospitals and other infrastructure. Basically, we need to build a city.
In Cimmeria, all was well. I don't know what kind of magic Galen used, but trade had begun between the planets. After studying the mining technologies (like "a magic wand moves forward and crushes rock"), the locals became quite interested in naquadah mining. Especially if we agreed to provide them with the technology (they didn't call it that themselves) for heating their homes in the winter. Galen said he'd help them build a full-fledged city (fortunately, Urvashi had plenty of architects), after which Thor's protégés' interest intensified even more. The first test batches of naquadah had already passed through the gates for me to analyze. I personally couldn't set foot on Cimmeria because of Thor's Hammer.
The planet's technological development is a rather complex undertaking. The people here are smart, but I had a whole chat room with people who had computers, and other smart people were asking them questions about technical documentation and what this or that word meant, and I was explaining it. Because there were so many projects going on, and the Jaffa were the most lazy: they were just practicing how to kill 70 with one thousand. Basically, they were lazy.
"Sir, your wife has lost consciousness," the maid rushed in. They began to behave much more freely, at least in my office.
I immediately jumped up, checked the ribbon device just in case, grabbed the healing device, then sent a signal asking where the sarcophagus was. And then I went to my personal rings to teleport to the pyramid that served as the local palace and political center. Incidentally, I didn't even know Isara was in the city. Entering her chambers, I met with the physician—a wizened, elderly man who cared for the queen's health and was a leading authority on local medicine. So he examined her first.
- Everything is fine?
- She just fell during one of the conversations.
After running a tape device over her body, I obtained extensive medical data. It seems someone has gone crazy... and that someone is me. She is completely exhausted, and the amount of vitamins she needs right now is measured in sheets of paper, the amount of sleep is measured in weeks, and the work ban is a month.
"She's overtired; she can't work. It would be better for her to go to some island and spend a week on the beach. And there's a lot of fruit... What does she eat?"
The doctor looked at me: "Which of us is her husband?"
— Snacks, field food that you can quickly grab a bite to eat.
I was, to put it mildly, inattentive, as I was at a similar pace. However, there's a fundamental difference: I'm a Goa'uld, not a human. A Goa'uld who can go weeks without sleep without losing efficiency. And it's worth considering which of us is more at fault: me, who set this pace for myself, and she, who picked it up, or she herself, who's become overly engrossed in new technologies, causing that workaholic part of her, having fast transportation and access to any information right now, not in three weeks...
He then activated the healing device to restore the micronutrient balance and conduct a much more accurate diagnosis. After some time, Isara woke up, not knowing where she was.
- And what number is it?
- What?
"How many faints is this?" I asked. "I've been here for six months, so I should understand some basic rules. If she worked like this for six months, the fainting spells could have become a chronic problem."
"It doesn't matter," the woman muttered.
"Forgive me, I'll tell you straight: if you die of exhaustion, you won't overthrow me, but you'll be acting extremely vilely towards your people, because formally you'll leave me in charge, and after your level of leadership, mine will be... the same level as a cart compared to a Khattak. So your death from exhaustion will harm your people," yes, I scolded her. "I need you, so I'll drop you off on an island I found and build a bungalow there for you to relax."
"No!" she said defiantly. "I need to work."
- You need rest.
- You wouldn't understand.
"What's wrong? You're not micromanaging, watching how cows are milked, are you?" There was a danger that Isara, having received a micromanagement tool, would implement it.
— No, but there are so many projects to manage that my health takes a back seat.
It was the first time I'd seen her so unyielding, although, admittedly, we hadn't spoken much lately. Realizing it wasn't just stubbornness, I asked:
— But why? What drives you so?
"You don't even understand? How blind you are, 'god'! A few years ago, a terrible epidemic raged, claiming countless lives. And then you showed up, claiming you could provide cures for a multitude of ailments and antibiotics that could fight disease." Isara's face took on a dark, thundercloud-like expression.
"I understand," I replied quietly. "But by driving yourself into the grave, you won't save them. You won't prevent new outbreaks. What I'm offering is prevention, not a cure. Viruses mutate, they evolve. We need to create an army that will fight them daily. And that's beyond even my capabilities. The equipment is there, but I'm not a scientist in this field. I was created as a manager; my knowledge is engineering, not medicine, because the Goa'uld have no use for it. We don't get sick. Yes, you'll reduce infant mortality to statistically insignificant levels. But, forgive me, by burning yourself out, you're shortening your life to a maximum of two years, instead of living another hundred. Your life, your work—it's a long game."
"You could make me a Jaffa. It would change my biology, and I wouldn't need sleep. Plus, they're much tougher and live longer."
I stared at her as if she were a natural wonder that never ceased to amaze.
"That's not what I expected to hear, to say the least. Isara, I respect you as a talented leader, but your brain doesn't work that way. Even Jaffa have their moments of exhaustion, not to mention they need Kelnorim. Just get some rest. I can take you to some coastal city and delegate all the management to your assistants. Burnout is a terrible thing. Don't pay me too much attention, because my efficiency is determined by a different biology. Your planet is many times better than hundreds of others, and what can I say, you're far better than Earth. Live as long as you can, Isara, because it will bring more benefit."
My rebuke was perhaps serious, but overall gentle. But what choice did I have? If she dies, what then? She's not like Ustinov, who now lives in the USSR. Due to some biological quirk, he can only sleep three hours a night and devote the rest to work. True, he spent the USSR's entire technological potential on military needs, essentially ruining the economy. He trampled on far more sensible projects aimed at economic development. The defense industry, with 5% of GDP, was enough to ensure the USSR's defense capability, but Ustinov's work ethic simply overwhelmed everyone. This is further evidence of the perils of workaholism. Isara, of course, took on the "Meiji Revolution" with unprecedented energy, as did the entire administrative apparatus. It seems the promise of proper healthcare had such a powerful effect on the residents of Urvashi that I now understand why it was such a sore subject. I was receiving orders for chemical equipment in such volumes that it would take a couple of years to fulfill them. And yet, having learned the secret of glass, people began actively experimenting. You could say I handed them a physics textbook. The number of cars kept growing. The US produced a lot of them, but I preferred the Volkswagen Beetle—a sturdy, reliable car that could easily be equipped with an electric motor. But that was for personal use. But for cargo transportation, the military trucks that began to be actively sold after the war were of colossal importance.
The driver training cycle took a month. As soon as one class graduated, each student was transferred as an instructor to other cities, where they would begin teaching a new class. Ultimately, after six months, twenty-seven thousand drivers had been trained. Their experience was still limited, but their enthusiasm was overflowing. Large retailers bought these vehicles on credit, while wealthy and middle-class residents purchased Volkswagens, also on credit. A traffic management system for the cities had to be urgently developed. Tractors were a separate issue. Isara, thanks to her insatiable work ethic, quickly established a technical center in every promising village, distributing the allocated tractors. Communities provided people to learn how to operate the tractors, and during fieldwork, they were simply hired to perform the tasks. Over time, wealthy farmers would learn how to operate them themselves, borrow the same tractor, and cultivate their land. But this temporary measure had already improved the level of land cultivation. I'm not saying her work doesn't impact the economy—it absolutely does, she's a damn monster! I'm more worried about her survival. According to economic reports, there's a potential for a massive increase in agricultural production, as they haven't yet reached full capacity. In reality, this looks more like a way to drive people out of the countryside to become factory workers. To give them somewhere to move and live, I contacted the construction guilds and made them understand that they have a lot of work ahead. Therefore, they must begin to master new construction methods now: new cranes, reinforced concrete concepts, concrete mixers, as well as additional engineering infrastructure, such as water supply, waste disposal, and water purification. All this was necessary to prevent the cities from drowning in sewage once the working class emerges. Construction companies are also needed for construction in the various colonies: Heliopolis, Icarus, and so on. In short, construction is the most important thing I need to do, because when the economy recovers, I'll need to build literally dozens of shipyards where I'll be building ships. And for that, it's best to trust professionals who have first gained experience building residential buildings.
- Okay, I'll take a break.
- And for how long?
- A couple of days.
"Two weeks," I insisted. "And after that, you'll work no more than eight hours."
"No, that's not enough," the woman insisted.
- Don't make them assign a Jaffa to you with orders to shoot you with an intar after 8 hours of work.
She winced, because she didn't like the Jaffa, and who would after they burst into your room and dragged you to the man sitting on the golden throne? But she tolerated them as her glider pilots, but not as shadows.
"I promise to work less," Isara said wearily.
"And to control this, I think we'll need to spend more time together. You move into my apartment so I can make sure you get eight hours of sleep a day and at least a proper breakfast and dinner. And I'll be the one cooking."
Isara wasn't happy about this, so she just pouted and turned away from me.
"Yeah, and I'm not that bad at cooking. The Jaffa don't complain, though they wouldn't even complain about the stones." I say after a moment. "Just kidding, I'm not going to cook anything for those idiots."
- You don't treat your subordinates with much respect.
"At the very least, I ordered them to simply bring you, not drag you out of bed and march you half-naked into the throne room. That's why they're idiots, and they're also idiots because they don't recognize the true nature of the Goa'uld, thinking they're gods. So it's a double whammy."
- Do you despise what is the basis of your species' existence?
Yes, we could have reformed long ago and become much stronger, using this divine image less. Despite the fact that I captured your planet, thanks to my wise policies, people already love me.
I got that same look that described how wrong I was.
"Okay, loyalty develops slowly, but it does. Or don't you agree that a sarcophagus that heals the hopeless serves my reputation? Ten years from now, my Ankh will become a firmly established association with me."
- Let's say so.
"And she looked at the canvas hanging in her chambers—a hexagonal, elongated shield, dark green, with a bright green symbol. A circle from which six rays extended. Two short horizontal, two vertical, one short crowning the semicircle, and the second long enough to cover the entire shield, with two more rays located between the vertical and horizontal rays. I chose this symbol as my coat of arms; it didn't take me long to decide, just like with my name. I placed a large order with local artisans to make more of these symbols, and hinted at a simpler way to do it."
- Having provided the machines, they will fulfill the state order, get used to it and begin to create a work of art, the main thing is to find a place to distribute it.
"The body-snatching problem could even be solved if human civilizations handed over the criminals themselves. Let's be honest, no one feels sorry for them. By consolidating their military power under their command, the Goa'uld could develop planets to cosmic levels without exposing themselves to any obvious threats to their security. But my kind like to be a little crazy with all this medieval stuff."
- The threat would still exist.
"There's always a threat, it's important that your behavior controls that threat," I replied.
"And yes, talking about politics is work too, so grab some ice cream and watch some stupid American movie. And I, like a good husband, will go to my garage to… talk about electric motors with my friends."
- You have no friends.
- Ow, that was painful.