Sobek sat back on the cushioned seat, his gaze fixed on the small holographic projector near the door. He had instructed the slaves to send word to Hathor that he was ready, prepared to face whatever his new life required. A soft blue light flickered from the device, and then Hathor’s image appeared, as if summoned from the very air itself.
Her smile was impossibly perfect, radiant with the warmth of a goddess. It was the kind of smile that could melt stone and make any man—human or Goa'uld—fall to his knees. Sobek found himself struck by its allure, despite the cold, calculating power that radiated from her. She was not just beautiful—she was beyond beauty, an embodiment of everything divine and powerful.
"You look ready, Sobek," she said, her voice smooth as silk, yet commanding. "Your body will be famished after the ritual. Join me for food. You will need strength for what lies ahead."
Sobek nodded in agreement, his mind still processing the shift in his own identity. His previous life seemed so distant now. In truth, it felt as if he had never been anything but this—this being of power, this Goa'uld.
"I will be there," he replied.
As the hologram flickered and vanished, Sobek stood, the weight of his new attire settling over him. His movements felt fluid, graceful—his body responding to every instinct, every command. The slaves, ever obedient, moved to his side as they were joined by a Goa'uld guard. His gaze flickered toward the guard—tall, muscular, and clad in armor—and then to the two women who had dressed him earlier. They remained silent, their heads bowed, their eyes not daring to meet his.
It was a short walk, but Sobek’s mind was busy. As he walked through the corridors of Hathor’s palace, a sense of surrealism washed over him. He knew this was the Stargate universe—the golden, hieroglyph-laden walls and the sleek, futuristic touches left no room for doubt. Yet, something was different. This was no mere set designed for a TV show. Everything around him exuded a sense of authenticity, as if the palace was truly lived in.
The walls, adorned with intricate carvings of ancient Egyptian deities, seemed to shimmer faintly in the warm glow of ambient lighting, their surfaces worn just enough to suggest centuries of history. Gold accents gleamed, not in the cheap, polished way of a prop but with the soft, uneven luster of the real metal, infused with faint energy that whispered of advanced technology. Ornate columns lined the corridors, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly as he passed, as though the very architecture was alive with hidden power.
The air itself felt different. It was warm but not stifling, carrying faint traces of incense and something metallic, as if the environment straddled the line between opulence and cold precision. The faint hum of unseen technology occasionally broke the silence, blending seamlessly with the distant sound of water trickling through an unseen fountain.
The slaves moved with a quiet, rehearsed grace, their clothing more elaborate and realistic than he remembered from the show. Fine silks of muted golds, reds, and blacks shimmered under the soft light, each piece tailored to perfection, flowing like liquid around their forms. Their eyes remained cast downward, their faces betraying a mixture of fear, reverence, and resignation. They were no mere extras; they were living, breathing individuals whose lives revolved around servitude to beings like Hathor—and now, Sobek himself.
Even the guards were more imposing than he had expected. Their armor gleamed with an otherworldly polish, intricate with angular designs that radiated Goa'uld craftsmanship. They moved with a discipline that spoke of years of training, their stoic faces lending an air of menace.
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This world, Sobek realized, was the same one he had watched countless times on screen, but it was also something greater. It was vivid, detailed, and immersive in a way he could have never imagined. The Goa'uld were not just villains in a sci-fi series here; they were gods, their power made tangible through every corner of this palace, every subtle detail that screamed of their dominion. This wasn’t simply a recreation of a 90s to early 2000s era tv show that was an adaption of a 1994 cult classic movie. No it was like everything was upscaled and improved as if the budget went from TV to Dune movies that had come out just prior to his death. Everything seemed lived in and real compared to the 90s set pieces. Even the way they talked was much more real.
He felt the weight of his new reality settle on him once more. This was no mere fantasy or simulation. He had stepped into a universe far more complex, dangerous, and vibrant than anything he had ever imagined.
Arriving at a large, opulent dining hall, Sobek found Hathor seated at the head of a table laden with dishes that would make a mortal king weep in envy. Platters of roasted meats, fruits, exotic cheeses, and freshly baked bread filled the air with rich, mouthwatering scents. Several attendants—more slaves, Sobek assumed—moved quickly to serve, ensuring everything was just right.
Hathor looked up from the food with that same radiant smile.
"I assumed you’d be hungry," she said, motioning for him to join her. "Take your seat, Sobek. You’ve earned it."
Sobek hesitated for only a moment before taking a seat at the table, the grandeur of it all overwhelming in the best way possible. As he sat, he noted how the slaves stood in the background, waiting for orders. Despite the lavish spread before him, it was clear who held the power in the room.
As he took his first bite, Sobek’s mind drifted back to the strange, foreign sensation of superiority he had felt earlier. The Goa'uld influence was strong within him, but it felt as if his own desires had already started to align with it. He had accepted the role of a god, the ruler of his domain.
He pushed the thoughts away for the moment, focusing on the food, which was delicious beyond belief. The sweet, rich flavors exploded on his tongue, as if designed to fuel his newfound power. But even as he ate, Sobek couldn’t ignore the truth—that his life had changed forever.
"It will be a few days before your body fully adjusts to the host. Don't push yourself," Hathor spoke up as she popped what appeared to be a grape into her mouth. "The Goa'uld are totally dominant in this galaxy. We have nearly universal control of the Stargates here and our other competitors are occupied or disinterested."
Sobek nodded, but decided to probe to figure out what the timeliness was. "What about humans? Couldn't they be a threat since we are reliant on them as our hosts and they could rise against us?"
Hathor laughed. "We are gods to humans. There is no threat from them. Occasional uprisings are easily repressed. No, dear Sobek… the thing you will learn quickly is the only threat to us is other Goa'uld and those pesky Asgardians."
Sobek felt his heart drop slightly. This meant they didn't know of the defeat of Ra or it had not happened yet.
"Who is the current leader of us?" Sobek probed.
Hathor looked at Sobek with a bit of pride. "Good question. Knowing the hierarchy of us will enable you to better rule. Our current and absolute supreme leader is Ra, who recently left the home world to find a new suitable host for his currently aging body. My guess is he will return in a few months."
So he was born just prior to the events of the 1994 film that started the series. In all likelihood, he was going to be sent to a newly conquered world as a minor System Lord. So there was nothing he could do now to prevent what was to come—internal fighting over the power vacuum Ra leaves behind.
Gritting his teeth, he didn't have much time. Once humanity discovered the Stargate, their repeated attacks quickly destabilized the Goa'uld and several of the major System Lords would foolishly fall victim to the machinations of SG-1 and the other SG units.
He had less than eight years to try and stabilize his position and build up enough of a power base to meaningfully prevent the inevitable.