I studied the map of Earth with searching interest, noting the points where my influence had already taken root and where it could flourish. Take Kenya, for example. An uprising is expected to break out there soon—the rebel "Army of Freedom and Earth." The name is certainly tacky, but the idea is simple: the British can be easily fed to my Jaffa. They're well aware that we're few in number, so they'll accept the concept: the Goa'uld wants a planet they can crack, so it takes time. Then Ethiopia, and in '60, Somalia will appear. Grab those inconspicuous countries with colossal economic problems, the kind no one needs. Isara might think I have a thing for this. The Latin American countries are already gradually coming under my control thanks to expanding trade, and the Asgard beam teleporter is a great help.
Plus, Africa is home to a whole bunch of idiots eager to build communism, even bypassing socialism as an intermediate stage. Although, in essence, this was just a cover for personal enrichment. A creeping takeover of Africa (provided we don't encroach on the spheres of influence of European powers that control, for example, uranium mines) will allow us to create reliable bases of influence. If they manage to avoid the significant turbulence of the twentieth century, I'll be over the moon. And, of course, access to export goods. True, for this, they'll have to establish some kind of ministry, perhaps in conjunction with the Tollans, to control these idiots. It would be useful for them to hone their skills on cats before handing over thermonuclear generators to a neighboring planet, which will eventually find a way to blow itself to hell.
At the moment, I'm intrigued by the possibility of testing Jaffa forces under a false flag in alliance with a European army. Under the guise of the "Army of Freedom and Earth," it might be possible to introduce some degree of freedom, albeit an "African" one. My options here are limited, but the Jaffa of Ra are, for the most part, Arab and mixed-race. The first operation, designed to be such a test, will be a test of Maine's skills in training my soldiers in SAS tactics. This involves landing on an airfield and reducing it to rubble, wiping out every surviving aircraft. Eliminating local officials and officers, sowing chaos in troop command, and using orbital reconnaissance and communications to launch targeted strikes against troops and police who are unsure what's happening. The goal is to create a core of trained Jaffa soldiers, disciplined and intelligent. Or at least disciplined. And, of course, a hint to the local leadership about my Teltak existence and my displeasure should any unrest arise, such as tyranny or communism built on personal enrichment (communism is fundamentally unachievable without a matter synthesizer in every home). Then a Jaffa strike force will quickly arrive and explain that there are clear rules for cooperation. Unlike the USSR and the USA, I don't deal with dictators. Firstly, because they go crazy, and secondly, because after tyrants come THIS that negates any positive experience of their rule for decades, if not centuries.
Then Isara entered my office with a woman I instantly sensed was a Goa'uld. I immediately activated the security systems with my foot and tensed. You can't be too paranoid with Ashraks.
"This is Egeria. Evgenia has agreed to be the host," Isara said.
"Finally, someone did it!" I exclaimed, surreptitiously checking the security cameras. And yes, I did indeed see Isara open the container, and the woman offer her mouth to the snake. As obscene as that might sound. "It even made me wonder how the Tok'ra find their hosts."
"So you're Szareh?" the woman asked. I realized I was speaking to a native speaker.
— Yes.
- Evgeniya Zavoviy.
"Frau Black Death," I nodded at her. She was the only female Marine platoon leader in World War II. She also captured a German general. A significant figure. "Not all Goa'uld have such a nickname, and they're so fond of bestowing impressive epithets on themselves. But did you get it from your enemies, or is it just propaganda? Sometimes it's hard to tell."
- Received.
"Well, welcome to the team. I believe Isara told you about your family's transfer to Urvashi. However, you must be discreet in your contacts. Your name is irrelevant now; you may only answer to Egeria's callsign, as hers will also be lost. Your place in the hierarchy is as my personal bodyguard, with broad authority to ensure my safety. Your cover story is that of a Goa'uld warrior. There are still such, and it won't arouse suspicion. You will be given a special voice synthesizer so that when Egeria isn't speaking, you can maintain a deep voice. Speak to the Jaffa only in a deep voice, projecting a touch of arrogance and aloofness. No fraternization, intimate conversations, or anything like that. Such things could put you on the brink of exposure. My troops are the Jaffa of Ra, who have been the most active hunters of the Tok'ra for two thousand years. Everything you do must be consistent with the image of a cool and rational commander, devoid of "kindness." Away from the Jaffa, you can behave more simply; this behavior is easily explained by the fact that I'm gathering information from the people. Your face won't be public, which will give you ample opportunity to be an ordinary person outside of Jaffa-controlled territories. This will allow you to take a break from all this madness.
"Will I be participating in any combat operations?" the woman asked.
"Ahem, I'd prefer you not do that, as the fate of an entire race depends on your life. You're no longer an easily replaceable lieutenant, so I'd advise you to be more cautious. But given your cover story, your constant presence at Jaffa training sessions, their adjustments, and overall command from the rear fit right in with that cover story. At the same time, some of our missions will take place away from the Jaffa to maintain secrecy. Such missions will require your extensive combat experience. For all her talents, Egeria is no warrior. A common example of such a mission is the planet Argos. There, the Goa'uld Pelops conducted an experiment: he reduced human lifespan to one day every year. I wouldn't want to launch a military invasion, given how things are constantly going wrong. Therefore, a small group, perhaps just you and me, will go to that planet and conduct an investigation. The goal is to examine the temple, search for any records, disable the nanite control computer, and seize scientific data. And, of course, put on a show for the locals in the style of: "The gods grant you a thousand days of life."
"Why don't you explain everything to people?" Evgenia asked. I just sighed at that.
"I honestly can't imagine the consequences. Along with that, anti-Goa'uld ideas might emerge. Normally, that's fine. But only Egeria and I are Goa'uld, and if we reveal more, it's unclear who they'll tell. Information fragmentation, since I don't know what will happen after I reveal it. Currently, fewer than ten people know the real state of affairs in my country."
The woman nodded, her eyes lighting up. Unlike the Tok'ra depicted in the series, the queen seemed unfazed by any discomfort.
"Sarekh," the bass voice reflected that it was the queen speaking.
"Tasar," I immediately stopped thinking of her as the queen, getting used to it: from now on, that's her name, and until we win. "I'll give you Isis's tape devices. I'm currently hunting Set; he's on Earth. And maybe Sekhmet, too, but I have no idea how to find him. Use Evgenia's knowledge to figure out: Napoleon brought back the canopic jars from Sekhmet from Egypt, along with a Goa'uld bomb, though no one was able to open it. During World War II, it all fell into German hands, and then it was lost. Perhaps some Nazi escaped and took the 'souvenirs.'"
Having processed the information, Egeria nodded.
— It's not that critical yet.
"Okay, I have data on when the Jaffa needs larval replacement. You can review this data." Of course, such data is necessary, otherwise there will be confusion. Essentially, it's like the Jaffa's medical record. "You can plan the replacement."
We then discussed a number of shared projects to accommodate our various interests. It was much easier for the Queen—she was already a high-ranking official in the Goa'uld Empire, so she could quickly take control. At the same time, I began exploring other planets under the treaty with Asgard. Why search for anything when there was already a published list of inhabited planets? Considering that the addresses of the Treaty planets were publicly available to the Goa'uld—so they would never set foot there. Currently, Ktau, Fansalir, Vanaheim, and that planet with a primitive civilization hiding from predators had signed treaties with the trading company. However, there was a snag with the latter—the locals were incredibly primitive. But I could have called on the other four planets and shouted, "They're also Scandinavians, we need help!" Fansalir was a planet defended by Friga; even Egeria had fled there, though Ra arrived with a substantial fleet, and there was fighting.
Vanaheim was controlled by Tyr, a planet in the midst of an ice age, yet boasting naquadah reserves. The inhabitants there are generally advanced, and they even have shock lances—technology passed on to them by Tyr, which can damage anyone with naquadah in their blood but are harmless to everyone else. I didn't care about the lances, because, "Really? Fielding something ineffective against units prepared to fight with such weapons? Did Tyr even have any brains?" It's not that important, though. The main thing is that trade has begun, including the exchange of technology, and on Vanaheim, a deal has been struck to mine naquadah in exchange for, say, supplies and rather tasty food. A good trade. Generally, it raises questions: how do the Asgard monitor their planets? They say the Goa'uld are seizing control of their planets through trade, and they don't even know about it.
At the same time, I was researching improvements to the Jaffa armor. For the record, it was excellent, weighing only eleven kilograms—less than the knightly armor of the late Middle Ages—and offering significantly better protection. The chest, throat, and abdomen were well protected, but the sides left much to be desired. However, this can't be blamed on the stupidity of the Goa'uld, as even modern body armor often ignores the sides of the body. I was dissatisfied with the segmented weave: while it may have protected against blunt impacts, it was powerless against bullets, much less plasma blasts. Therefore, a replacement had to be found, such as Kevlar or other specialized padding. Of course, the suits weren't yet up to the level of spacesuits, but the goal was to at least achieve decent armor.
Then the door to my office swung open and Maine walked in. Pale as a sheet.
"I found them," he whispered, his lips trembling with shock and rage. I merely closed my eyes, anticipating what lay ahead. Before me stood a lieutenant colonel in the SAC, a man who had spent his career leading attacks against numerically superior enemies, commanding the most daring operations, and now—melting like wax.
"Don't get me wrong," he said, trying to pull himself together. "I only need them alive so I can piece together the details of their actions. Then they will be destroyed. Are they... alive?"
"Yes," the lieutenant colonel muttered. "But these aren't people. These are some kind of demons, risen from the Underworld."
"It's not for me to say, but I'd advise against insulting demons. They punish sinners for their crimes. Not that the British Empire was much different: they don't consider the Irish, or Africans, or Latin Americans human. Anyone but the white race. But these... they are the extreme of what a person can go to."
What are we talking about? Some time ago, I tasked Maine and his SAC unit with finding everyone behind the human experiments in the Japanese Empire. Not just Unit 731—there were more such units. Maine was abducting them and placing them in stasis pods, awaiting my readiness. Many "specialists" were spared by the US, as their research could have been useful. I, however, was completely indifferent to their findings. I had already held the greatest biological weapon in the universe in my hands and cast it aside in disgust. My goal is to restore justice and show all of humanity the depths to which it is capable of sinking.
"You read it," Maine said, nodding at the device. "I'll have to use some equipment to record it. Then edit it and transmit it to my allies on Earth. They'll pass the data on to the USSR, Switzerland, Sweden, and other countries. And also information on how I'll destroy them all."
— I can't say that I envy you.
"And there's no need," I replied dryly. "The only thing that saddens me is that, out of considerations of my own humanity, I can only execute them by hanging or firing squad."
"The US might notice that we kidnapped them," Maine noted reasonably.
"I don't care. Even if they're noticed, even if they lose face. They should have known better. Biological weapons are a taboo concept, even among the Goa'uld. It's not that they wouldn't use them against planets outside the Empire, but at the very least, we have laws against it. And they're strict. If everyone starts waving biological weapons, there won't be any slaves left."
I left my office and headed toward one of the cells in Cheops. It wasn't a comfortable apartment for captured Goa'uld, but a cell with a minimum of frills. It was guarded by one of Maine's hired SAC soldiers. He was clutching his rifle too tightly, clearly not in good health.
"He'll die," I told the nervous soldier calmly. "Very soon. Don't worry."
Apparently my calm words relaxed him a little. He opened the cell, and a Japanese man with slight signs of a beating appeared before me.
"Shiro Ishii. The United States spared you, but I did not. I am the god Szarekh, and before you go to Hell for your crimes, you will relive them all.
The pathetic, sadistic bastard was stunned, and I took great pleasure in punching him in the jaw. Considering I always wore a gauntlet on my right hand, he passed out immediately. After doing some breathing exercises to calm himself, I ordered him placed in a stasis capsule. They hadn't done it earlier because I thought I could interrogate him properly. But the moment I saw him, I immediately wanted to shoot him.
— We need to ask Omok or one of the Tollans.
"Even you can't be cold-blooded? Perhaps you have the memories of past generations of Goa'uld who committed genocides?"
"Computers with simulations eliminate the need for experiments. But generally, genocides involve orbital bombardment or landing followed by execution. Torture also exists, but it's highly specific. There's a special torture rod that stimulates all neurons; nothing dirty is needed. Bacteriological weapons have been used, it's true, but the disease is fleeting, giving the target as little time as possible to devise a countermeasure. Bioweapons are usually used against advanced races, against whom orbital bombardment is impossible due to their defensive systems."
After which I went to Omok, who was working on the Ancient Computer.
— Soup.
— Sareh.
— I need help from Tollana, of a legal nature.
He looked at me in surprise.
"There's a group of scientists on Earth who were preparing for biological warfare and conducting extremely inhumane experiments on humans. For example, they discovered that humans are 78% water by evaporating all the moisture from a living human. Because of their potential 'usefulness,' the US government didn't destroy these creatures. I require a Tollana task force to conduct methodical, precise, and extremely detailed investigations. I will provide the tools to recall the memories of the subjects."
Omok was completely shocked by the way the question was put, but nodded.
— I'll get in touch... And I'll help... This...
— In any case, they have a human form and, possibly, a soul.
I'll kill them all, even those who spent time in Soviet prisons, those who advise the Americans—all those bastards will die. That's the only thing I can promise to all the people who died there. Not the "logs," but the people. They won't open their own pharmaceutical companies, they won't become emeritus professors. They will be destroyed, like a human disease.
Maine was now looking at me intently. It was easy to reason when that bitch was far away, when she'd died seventy years ago. But in this universe, they were just a few meters away. Whenever I approached such creatures, my hands would automatically start shaking, and I wanted to strangle them as quickly as possible.
"When you first told me such a thing existed, I honestly didn't believe it. Don't get me wrong, I saw a lot during the war, I saw people simply shot without any mercy. But like this..."
"I'm glad you're enthusiastic. Lieutenant Colonel Mayne Paine, I'm giving you an order. Dr. Josef Mengele lives in Buenos Aires. He may be running some kind of medical practice. Josef Mengele conducted numerous experiments on Auschwitz prisoners. Find him and bring him here. If you're going to build a collection, you can't do without him."
He stood at attention and gave a military salute.
— I'll deliver.
"After that, find Eichmann. I'll give you all the details. He should be there too. Anyway, remember the main rule: if you want to find a Nazi, go to South America. But Mengele can be found even through medical practice; it'll be more difficult with the last bastard. But please be creative."
— Yes, sir.
First, all the earthly criminals will burn, and on them I will train myself to exterminate those who are in the Galaxy.