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Ba’al sighed with relief. Praxyon filled the view out the window of the pel’tak. There were no other ships in sight…only those he knew to be waiting on the planet itself. The message was sent for them to join him. He settled back on his throne. In spite of the…gaps…in his memory, he was the only Ba’al. The true Ba’al. The greatest, most powerful of all System Lords.

There was always the possibility that he’d been wounded somehow, and that had affected his memory. Goa’uld are really rather delicate creatures, he mused silently. While they could control their hosts with ease, without that host they were vulnerable. Yes, that’s what had happened. During the attack on his ship, he’d suffered a wound…not to the host, but to himself…the symbiote. A blow of some sort, something that had left him…bruised. And it had affected his memory.

He smiled. He would set those two scientists on the planet…whatever they were doing that pertained to controlling time was too important to wait. Then he would gather his ships, and he would begin to strike at the weakest of the System Lords. It was important that he do so, and that he begin as soon as possible…a cognition that had rather suddenly begun gnawing at him in just the past few hours.

Confident that he was about to finally maneuver himself into the position of Supreme System Lord, Ba’al began to relax. He stretched one leg out in front of him. He watched with growing satisfaction as all of the ships that had awaited rose slowly from the planet’s surface. All was going according to plan. In spite of what Casey had told him. And in spite of the fact that she had once again escaped from him. He was already making plans to go to the First World and demand her in exchange for sparing the mostly useless planet.

"My Lord, another pyramid ship approaches," one of the Jaffa exclaimed.

"Who is it?" Ba’al asked.

The Jaffa checked the scanner, then checked again. "It is one of your ships, My Lord. But whoever is on the pel’tak is refusing to respond."

He sat up abruptly. "Demand that the Jaffa in charge identify himself!"

Before his Jaffa could respond, a face appeared in the view screen.

He felt the world around him beginning to spin. NO! NO! This can’t be!

Ba’al watched as the three ships began to move toward the planet. No doubt the clone was going to attempt to land, and then hide in the caverns that went deep into the planet. He had other plans for those caverns, at least one of them. And he had to get the two Goa’uld who were assigned to ‘the project’ into that cavern as soon as possible, so that they could continue their work. Their results would put control of the universe in his hands.

"If the ships defending the ha’tak attempt to land, destroy them," he ordered. "Disable the ha’tak, and prepare to board it."

The Jaffa on the pel’tak exchanged nervous glances. "Yes, My Lord," the warrior at the communications control replied.

It would only be a matter of an hour or so before he could see the scientists into the cavern and to work. Ba’al understood that at this point in their research, they would need the device he had discovered. He hurried to his quarters. He would take the beautifully carved wooden box, with the very fascinating device it protected, and meet the Goa’uld who worked for him.

Then he would destroy the clone. Once again he was certain that his plans would be successful. No matter what Casey believed, he had no need to run and hide. No need to fear the meager fleets of the few minor System Lords who remained. He was about to become the most powerful Goa’uld who had ever existed. He would be more powerful – and as greatly feared – as Ra had ever been! He would control every world known to be inhabited!

Just outside of the sensor range of the ships that hovered above the rocky planet, a fleet of nearly three hundred ships gathered: an’kesh…the heavy bomber/cruiser; al’kesh…the mid-range bomber/cruiser; and ha’tak…the greatly feared pyramid ships. Those vessels represented the remaining System Lords in the Milky Way galaxy. They were few, much fewer in number than they had actually realized; their small fleets a sad reminder of their current situation. Once a mighty Empire, ruled by dozens of System Lords – who had controlled individual fleets numbering in the hundreds – and even more minor Goa’uld, they had been reduced to a mere handful.

For millennia, the Goa’uld had been feared among the inhabitants of so many of the star systems in the galaxy…and beyond. Now…thanks to the machinations of the Tau’ri in general, and SG-1 in particular, Goa’uld had become impotent, being seen as nothing more than an annoyance. No longer did the desire to become the ‘Supreme System Lord’ fill thoughts and guide actions. It had become a pleasant dream that no longer fit into the reality of the tatters of the Goa’uld Empire. Now, simple survival was the goal…each ‘System Lord’ determined to hold whatever she or he controlled, and to be content in their positions…such as they were.

And in a far away galaxy, two System Lords listened with growing interest as spies informed them of the state of the Empire among the stars in which they had been born. Whispers and rumors of the intervention and strategies of the Tau’ri were troublesome…but neither took the threat seriously. Only one fact mattered to them: the death of the Goa’uld responsible for bringing the Empire to such a low point – the verge of total destruction. It was only a matter of time before his annihilation. And not much time at that, given the reports. Now the two were once again focused on one another. Each determined to take total control of the galaxy to which they had been banished. With the Empire in their home galaxy nearly destroyed, each believed himself the strongest, the ‘Supreme System Lord’ who would rebuild and rule the Goa’uld Empire in what was now known as the Milky Way galaxy.

NO! NO! This couldn’t be!

Desperation exploded in his brain. The memories he could pull forward seemed distorted. Images – fuzzy memories of a small room…two men who came and went at what seemed to be random times…that odd device he’d never able to identify just outside the – thing – he’d been in...

Just what type of apparatus had he been in? It certainly had not been a sarcophagus! His first memories were of being surrounded by what he had at first thought to be water, but now understood was something much different. There had been no panic, he’d been able to breathe. He tossed about in his mind, trying to identify…Tube! He’d been in some sort of tube…

The Jaffa on the pel’tak were looking at him, back to the face that loomed on the communication screen in front of them, and then at one another.

"You will obey me!" the face on the screen insisted.

The desperation that had flooded him turned to icy rage. "You will ignore that imposter!" the clone said coldly…calmly. "Destroy his ship...but only his ship. The others are manned by faithful Jaffa."

Ba’al started…he’d heard the order issued by the clone. Before he could demand that the Jaffa obey him, communication between the two ships was terminated. Seconds later, his ship shook from the impact of weapons fire. "Return fire," he snarled.

He ran a hand over his face. It was bad enough that the clone had survived…without his knowledge. Worse, the clone’s programming seemed to be defective. The clone wasn’t attacking the weakest of the System Lords…he was attacking his creator!

The ship shook once again. The approaching ships…those of the other System Lords, were visible now. He frowned when they slowed, remaining within firing range, but not engaging in battle against him.

He turned his attention to the ha’tak that continued to fire at him. It had been one of his favorites…carefully upgraded with defense systems that would make it difficult to destroy. How had the clone managed to take control of that particular ship?

With a sigh, Ba’al looked around him. The Jaffa watched him carefully. This ship, he thought gleefully, had been carefully designed to withstand multiple attacks. The most vulnerable areas of the ship had extra shielding. He had no fear that the clone could harm him. He, however, would crush the clone, and disable the ship that continued to fire against him.

"Yes, My Lord," Laqip, the First Prime, replied. He nodded, and the Jaffa around him hurried to their tasks.

A smile on his face, Ba’al strode into his quarters and opened the cupboard. He moved aside two blankets…reached for the box that was-

Gone.

He looked frantically, tossing out everything that the cupboard held. Opened every drawer in the room, again throwing out the contents in a surge of panic.

He knew – without a doubt – that someone had betrayed him...had taken the device he’d discovered nearly two years prior. It seemed that once again at least one rebel Jaffa had escaped the latest purge of the disloyal. How do they manage to hide from me?

Because there are far more rebel Jaffa than those who are faithful…to any Goa’uld. Your Empire is about to fall…and you are the cause!

Silence! You speak of that which you do not comprehend!

Once again your plans lie in ruins. The device you coveted, that you killed for, has already been destroyed!

Nonsense! Lies!

How do you think the one who took the device managed to do so? I blinded your eyes. You saw nothing that happened around you for over two hours.

He frantically searched his memory. The pain of being wounded by the Tau’ri weapon had been so great that when his Jaffa first arrived in his chamber, he’d been unable to speak. So great that he’d forced the host to deal with it. He had watched from within the host’s mind as his Jaffa carried him to his sarcophagus. Memories that should have been there, been clear…of being carried through the corridors of his ship were…so hazy, everything looked so hazy. As if someone had pulled a thin veil over his face. Then…nothing. He had no recollection of being placed in the sarcophagus. No recollection at all. Ba’al threw back his head and howled his frustration. "NOC!"

The clone watched with rising frustration as his attempts to be rid of the imposter seemed to be futile. Something tickled the back of his brain…something about a new ship…better shielding…more weapons. But…there was a weakness…he struggled to remember the words of the two men…he understood now that they had been scientists; no, builders. The builders of the ship he was now staring at. He’d overheard them as he’d walked through the corridors…where had he been going? He shook his head mentally. It didn’t matter. What he had heard, however…

The smile that crept upon the clone’s face was feral. "Concentrate all weapons on the engines."

"It seems that Ba’al has found his clone," Kali said. "We will not interfere. But when one destroys the other, we will then destroy the survivor."

Confirmation from her own ships, as well as those of her Brothers and Sisters, came through the communication system. Yu, who had joined them just an hour or so ago, didn’t deign to respond to her in person. Instead, his First Prime sent a message...that Lord Yu would decide when to enter into battle. She huffed a sigh. It didn’t matter if Yu followed her orders. All that mattered was that he added the strength of his fleet to those who had gathered. In just a few minutes, Ba’al would no longer be a threat to any of the System Lords.

"My Lord, three ship approach…they are older ships," the Jaffa reported. "There is one ha’tak, and two an’kesh."

"Who is it?" Kali asked, wondering if some minor System Lord was going to attempt to join the battle…ignoring the fact that all of those who had gathered were, by the Empire’s own standards, considered to be ‘minor’ System Lords.

Communications systems on every ship within range came online. A copper-colored face, familiar – belonging to one thought long gone – filled view screens. "No one will attack until I give the order," the dual voice insisted.

Kali’s eyes went wide, she was on her feet before she realized she’d even moved. "Apophis!" she whispered.

Ba’al stared at the newcomer. "It can’t be!" he said hoarsely. No doubt Apophis would demand reparations for all that he had taken upon hearing of the System Lord’s demise. He refused to acknowledge the fear that began to creep into his consciousness.

"Orders, My Lord?" one of the Jaffa asked, certain that the arrival of the new ships, and their current location…toward the front of the other gathered ships...would result in new orders from his Master. Certainly the fact that those ships belonged to Apophis, a powerful System Lord believe to be dead, would change the current strategy of his god.

"Ignore those ships for now. I want the ha’tak on which that clone is sitting to be destroyed!" Ba’al snapped.

The war was just beginning.

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