Imesty and Duamutef hurried down the corridor, eager to reach the privacy of their quarters. Ba’al was in a vile mood and was taking his temper out on anyone who crossed his path. The brothers were not the only ones trying to stay clear of him. From the aftermath they had witnessed in the corridors leading from the main throne room to the Chaapa’ai, the Tau’ri had made quite an exit, and if the whispers of the Jaffa were to be believed, the two who had been caught had already riled the System Lord up before that. Once Ba’al had regained consciousness he had immediately ordered another search, demanding to know where else besides his private rooms the Tau’ri had been on his ship.

"Ba’al is getting paranoid," Duamutef murmured as one of the System Lord’s Jaffa clattered by them. "Otherwise he would have made the rest of us join this search rather than just his own Jaffa."

"I wonder what he hopes to learn." Imesty entered the sequence to unlock their shared quarters. "According to the Jaffa who witnessed their escape the Tau’ri left with noth-" He broke off as the door slid open to reveal Hapy sprawled on the floor. A glance at his blank eyes told that he was dead. He hurried to his brother’s lifeless form, examining the wounds. There was always the possibility that he had managed to switch hosts. Seeing the deep gash to his neck sent the hope plummeting. "The Tau’ri intruders have done this," he hissed.

"Don’t be so sure." Duamutef was leaning over to also inspect the fatal wounds. "Ba’al’s weapon of choice is a blade." He touched Imesty’s shoulder, diverting his attention to the small shrine in the corner. The hidden compartment was opened, the glass container empty. "The isotope is gone."

Imesty straightened, reading the shock of losing a second of their kin within days of the other. Shock that was rapidly replaced by wariness and fear. Emotions he was sure were reflected on his own face. "You think Ba’al knows of our plot?"

"Do we really want to take the risk?" Duamutef countered.

The brothers took only a mere second to contemplate their options.

"We’re leaving. Now." The older of the two strode to the adjoining door, intending to pack the few essentials he had on board. "We’ll gather what Jaffa and slaves of ours we pass on the way to the alkesh. We’ll have to leave the others."

Duamutef nodded in agreement hurrying through the second room to his own.

Within a few minutes the scheming brothers were entering the hanger bay, a little over half their people in tow.

"Where are we going?" Duamutef slid into the navigator seat, looking expectantly at Imesty who had always been the leader of the brothers.

"If Ba’al seeks revenge, our worlds will not be safe." He frowned in contemplation. "Set a course for the Praesepe sector. We have a few outposts there that we neglected to inform Ba’al about."

Without a word Duamutef plotted the course, the alkesh jumping to hyperspace as soon as it cleared the ha’tak.

Ba’al sat poised on his throne, his face impassive as he waited for the reports to come in. He had managed to curb his initial anger at his humiliation by those two Tau’ri by lashing out at the men who had let them escape. The main object of his wrath was the warrior who had been stupid enough to laugh. Had taken great pleasure in watching him writhe beneath the ribbon device until he begged for mercy. Then he used Tel’vak acid making him scream, howling for forgiveness. As a final act of vengeance he had cut out the man’s voice box. Never again would he laugh at his God. Only then had Ba’al ordered the Jaffa be taken to the sarcophagus. He was after all one of his best warriors and it would be a waste to lose him for a single indiscretion. One did not need a voice in battle and he would serve as a living reminder to the others of the consequences of acts of idiocy.

With his anger sated Ba’al was rationally reviewing the morning’s events. The fact that O’Neill and the seer had been alone when they had been captured concerned him. If their sole mission was to find information on his pet, then logically the laboratories should have been their other point of call. However the carefully laid trap had not been sprung, the laboratories were completely undisturbed. It was possible that others had not reached the science level before having to abandon their plan to rescue their teammates. However Ba’al was suspicious by nature and he knew how inventive this group of Tau’ri were. If they had not been trying to get to the science level, then he needed to know precisely what they had been up to.

Inwardly he was seething at the ease in which the rescue had been implemented, while at the same time was content that thanks to his pet’s informative chat the previous night, SG-1 had not gotten what they had come for. They may have won the battle by managing to escape, but the war was far from over. Ba’al still had the upper hand, he was positive of it. Well, almost positive. Until his Jaffa reported in there was still a niggling doubt.

A woman glided into the room, her demeanor confident towards the few Jaffa in the room not assigned to the search, and yet submissive towards him. Aurelia was his most faithful lo’tar, more often than not his first choice from his harem. Her seductive beauty had caught his eye when she had barely passed her fourteenth year and she had been part of his harem for nigh on a decade. She had become his eyes and ears amongst the slaves, and had been especially useful since the tentative alliance had been formed with the minor Goa’uld who now inhabited his ship.

She moved with a fluidity that normally captivated him. The simple motion of walking made her long skirt of the finest silk, so fine it was almost transparent, flow out behind her like a silver cloud. The split up the side revealed the smooth stretch of her leg from the top of her thigh down. Shoulders and mid-drift were bare, jeweled scraps of cloth barely concealing her breasts. It was a sight that had never failed to arouse him. Until now. Only last night he had thought her voluptuous, her body warm and inviting, her cleavage impressive, her emerald eyes enthralling. Now she seemed bland, commonplace, even though her beauty of the evening before had not physically changed. It was Ba’al’s perception of what was beautiful that had been altered in the hours since.

Aurelia drew close, bowing low a few paces from him, then rose and finished her approach to his side to whisper in his ear. She lightly rested her hand on his arm, an act that had always been allowed, even encouraged, previously. Ba’al found himself shrugging her touch away. It was no longer her caress that he craved.

She immediately dropped her hand, her green depths widening slightly in surprise at the rebuff, but she relayed the information she had gathered. "My Lord, Imesty and Duamutef have left the ship, taking as many of their minions as they could."

Her voice that Ba’al had previously found alluringly husky, now sounded simply hoarse to his ear. He pushed his dislike away to concentrate on the snippet she had just given. "Interesting. Have you been able to discover why?"

"I investigated their quarters and found Hapy dead from knife wounds. The blood had begun to congeal. If I had to guess I’d say he had been killed well over an hour ago while the Tau’ri were aboard. The quarters were in disarray, however it is unclear if that was done by the Tau’ri or the brother Lords in their haste to leave."

"Hmmm." Ba’al absently rubbed his chin in thought. So the Tau’ri had killed Hapy. Not that he particularly cared about that, Hapy had been the weakest of the four brothers. What was curious was that the brothers had run. He could understand if they had left while the Tau’ri were still on board. It would have been a cowardly response, but not entirely unexpected. However the ‘threat’ of the Tau’ri doing the same to them no longer existed. Which meant they had not been scared of the Tau’ri, rather of something or someone else. Did they believe he had killed their brother? Was it the workings of guilty minds that had made them think that? Had they been conspiring against him? He was distracted from his thoughts by a long lock of hair falling from behind Aurelia’s ear. She was still bent close to him and the angle made the thick wave too heavy to remain tucked in place. Absently he twirled the pale brown lock that was almost golden between his fingers. "You have done well, my dear."

The woman preened at the compliment. "It is my honor to serve, My Lord."

"Aurelia, you have many forms of cosmetics at your disposal, do you not?"

The switch of topics made her tilt her head curiously. "Yes, My Lord. You are very generous in providing such luxuries. Does my appearance displease you?"

Ba’al ignored the question, running his thumb over the hair still in his hand. "Do you have a method to alter your hair color?"

"Yes, My Lord. Extract of lillowier lightens to the hue of the sun…"

"Not lighter."

Aurelia suggested another. "Ink of an orchint turns hair black as ni-"

"No." The System Lord cut her off. His free hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of hair, the shade a deep rust. "Can you recreate this hue?"

The slave studied the two inch curl, the strands at one end had been fused together, black traces of a staff blast on the tips. "It may be possible, My Lord."

"Return to me within the hour with the results." He released his hold and she straightened.

"As you wish, My Lord." Aurelia backed away from her God. It was a most peculiar request that he had asked of her. Never before had he found anything lacking in her appearance. It worried her that now suddenly her God desired her to change. After ten years has he grown tired of me? She had always tried to find new ways to pleasure him when he deigned to take her to his bed. One of Khnum’s servants had recently told her of a particular method that drove her God wild. Perhaps she should attempt to use the technique the next time Ba’al requested her to his chambers.

Ba’al watched her retreating figure hurry from the room, her hips swaying seductively…at least it had been seductive yesterday. He toyed with the red curl in his hand thinking of the person from whence it came. One of his Jaffa had presented him with the ‘trophy’ as evidence that he had attempted to stop the escaping Tau’ri. That particular Jaffa now had a new trophy of his own. The hilt of Ba’al’s dagger was currently protruding from his forehead. That the Jaffa had missed injuring the seer was the only reason his death had been mercifully quick. All of his men had been under strict orders that the redhead was not to be harmed no matter the cost. Ba’al did not think that his Jaffa would need reminding of that standing order again.

The passion that had burned in those violet eyes when she taunted him had started a lava pool in his groin, hotter than any he had ever experienced. True her passion was born of hatred, but he made a silent vow that one day she would address him with the fervor of desire. The strands beneath his fingers were silky, softer than Aurelia’s. Compared to this, Aurelia’s was like straw. He lifted the hair, brushing it against his cheek, wondered what it would be like to have that full mane of hair sweep across his body. To have her mouth that spat such venomous insults wrapped around him, sucking him, swallowing his seed when he gushed down her throat. The mere idea made him ache with need. When Aurelia returned he would retreat with her to his bed. Hopefully he could delude his body into believing that the slave’s moist well was the seer’s and relieve the yearning she had created.

His First Prime clanked into the room, giving a quick but formal bow. "My Lord, the ship has been searched. Lord Hapy-"

"I know of his demise." Ba’al cut him off.

The Jaffa gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Aside from the tampering of the control console on engineering, there is no evidence of where the Tau’ri have been. The only room we were unable to search is the cargo bay on level two."

"I shall take care of that myself." The System Lord rose slipping the lock of hair back into his robe. "How long before the repairs are complete?"

"We have disabled the feedback loop and are now replacing the fused crystals. Not more than fifteen minutes, My Lord."

"Re-dock the ship on the planet and resume the preparations for relocation."

"At once, My Lord." Another bow and the warrior left.

Ba’al walked down the corridor heading for the ring room, his thoughts returning to the dead Goa’uld on his ship. Why had the Tau’ri singled out that particular Goa’uld’s quarters? Had they been seeking something and Hapy surprised them, or was it the Goa’uld himself they sought out? Was the youngest brother a Tok’ra they had arranged a meeting with? Ba’al scowled at the idea, unintentionally directing his glare at a passing slave, making him scurry away. That made little sense. SG-1 would not kill an ally. Had the brothers discovered Hapy’s treachery and exacted revenge? Then frightened Ba’al would find them guilty by association had waited for the first opportunity to escape? Or were Imesty and Duamutef Tok’ra as well? So many questions with no answers. He added them to the mental list he had created to ask his pet at their next meeting.

When the rings re-materialized him on the cargo bay level he moved swiftly to the sealed bay to which only he had the combination. Confirming that the panel had not been tampered with he entered the code. As soon as the doors opened he could see that someone had been within. Protective sheets were haphazardly drawn aside. Crates had been left open. The sheet that had been over the Ancient weapon had been totally removed, evidence that the Tau’ri had spared it more than a cursory glance.

It was logical that they had sought the device, given that they knew he had attempted to obtain the manual. What was illogical was that they had not tried to remove it. It was possible that they had abandoned the theft to rescue their comrades. And yet Ba’al again had that nagging doubt. Previous experience had shown SG-1 rarely failed a mission despite what obstacles they encountered. In their previous escapades with his brethren they had always managed to escape imprisonment and achieve whatever were their mission goals. That they had left the device that they knew was so important to him, and to them if his pet was to be believed, concerned him. Another question to ask.

He planned to visit the woman tonight. SG-1 had been unharmed, and he knew all other Chaapa’ai activity had ceased, so there were no injuries requiring the doctor’s vigilant attention and thus remaining on the base. He wanted to know what the Tau’ri’s next move would be, if SG-1 had obtained more information than he thought. Were they any closer to identifying the zatarc? If they were, then it may be time to dispense with his pet. He’d wait and see what the coming interview revealed before making that decision. It would be a shame to terminate her. The doctor had been a vine of information for a very long time. Ba’al was quite pleased with himself. It was the most successful infiltration of the Tau’ri to date. Or, perhaps rather than activating the kill switch, he’d let the zatarc live. Just simply cease to use her, leaving the Tau’ri eternally guessing who it was that betrayed them, never knowing if the zatarc was still telling their secrets.

Ba’al contemplated his options as he returned to his quarters, which had already been returned to its usual immaculate state, all trace of the flour that had coated the room gone. Beneath the smell of cleaning sand and oils, he caught the subtle whiff of sweetness, recognized it as the scent of the seer. He prowled around the room, using his enhanced sense of smell to try to determine precisely where she had been in the room, however the faint sugary aroma lingered in no particular spot. Had she sat at his desk as she rifled through the drawers? Run her hands over and under the pillows and mattress of his bed? Climbed on top of the sheets, stretching to search the runners of the brocade drapes above the bed head? A tingle of lust coursed through him at the idea.

He swept the room for other objects she may have touched, his eyes distracted by his own image in the mirror. At the moment he wasn’t exactly looking very Godly with patches of flour on his robe and skin. He was about to call for one of his slaves to draw him a bath when he inhaled the soft scent of spiced oil in the air. He strode into his wash chamber to see the sunken marble bath had already been filled with steaming water. He assumed that Aurelia had arranged it; the years spent serving him giving her insight to what he required without him having to ask. He stripped off his robe, letting it fall unheeded to the floor, knowing that one of his slaves would take care of it. Naked, he took a moment to survey the body he had inhabited for over a millennia, in the mirror that decorated the entire expanse of one wall.

Well-defined biceps, strong and muscled thighs, stomach taut and flat. It was as pleasing to his eye now as the day that he had chosen the host. However whatever remnants of desire he had from a moment ago evaporated as he remembered the jeering the seer and O’Neill had subjected him to. His gazed dropped to his now flaccid member, a frown marring his face. Having inhabited many a male host in his thousands of years, he felt he was more than qualified to determine if he was well endowed. His previous host had been slightly longer when erect, however this one was larger in girth. Nevertheless, even in its un-aroused state it could not in any way be considered tiny as the Tau’ri seer had implied. Or was it? Had Tau’ri advancements over the centuries not been limited to technology but included certain physical evolutions as well? He shifted his sight beyond his waist to his feet, studying the length from heel to toe. Had Tau’ri physiology changed, exponentially linking the size of one’s foot to the length of the penis? It seemed unlikely. His current host was a descendent of the same species and from what he could see there was no relevance between the sizes of the two body parts. Perhaps it was the size when aroused that was comparable? An easy enough theory to prove. Curling his hand around himself he began to pump in firm yet languid strokes.

After a couple of minutes of intense ‘work’ Ba’al frowned at the total lack of response from his still limp shaft. This had never been a problem before. If anything he was quick to arouse and could maintain an erection for hours at a time. A few minutes ago he had been at half-mast! He conjured the image of the seer in his mind and blessedly felt stiffening beneath his palm. He pictured her lying on his bed, wearing nothing except one of the jeweled collars that signified one of his harem. Those violet eyes deepening with the allure of his presence. Waiting for him with her legs spread wide, ready to accept the honor of her God burying himself inside her. Hearing her moan his name in rapture.

His hand unconsciously increased its pace, pumping harder, his breath becoming harsh as he swapped fantasies. Her kneeling before him, her face buried in his crotch. Licking sucking, nibbling the twin spheres housing his essence. Her tongue swirling up his hardened length before encasing his rod with her soft lips and taking him deep down her throat. A groan rumbled from his chest as he jerked within his hand, the hot creamy liquid squirting across the room in an impressive arc, splashing onto his reflection in the mirror.

Chest still heaving, Ba’al realized he had forgotten the point of that stimulating exercise. No matter. There would be many more occasions for him to make the size comparison. He lowered himself into the hot water, submerging fully to rinse the powder from his hair. When he rose he saw one of the his younger slaves enter the chamber carrying a large jug, the handle of a second pitcher, this one empty, hanging by the crook of her arm.

She bobbed a curtsy. "My Lord, do you wish more hot water?" Aurelia had given her the task of making sure the sunken tub was constantly topped up with fresh boiling water to maintain the temperature their God preferred. For the last hour she had been lugging the jugs back and forth, first dipping an empty jug into the bath and then tipping in the fresh one.

Ba’al seated himself onto the smooth step that had been carved two feet deep into the marble and rested his arms on either side of the stone rim, wallowing in the scented water. "Yes. A score more should be adequate. Get the others to help you fetch it." He flicked a hand at the box in the corner of the room. "And power up the r’hitty’estus."

"As you please, My Lord." The woman dipped the empty jug into the water, then carefully poured the full one into the tub, making sure to drizzle it in a zigzagging pattern so as not to scald him. Another curtsy and she moved to the device that held a dozen black rocks in its bowl. She tapped the glyph to switch it on and waited the few seconds for the rocks to turn blood red to indicate they were infused with molten heat, and then trickled some of the discarded water over them. The rocks sizzled and hissed creating a billowing cloud of steam. In the time taken for her to move back across to the door to fetch the rest of the requested hot water, the small chamber was hazy with steam.

It took only a few minutes for the extra pitchers to be brought in by a procession of women whose sole existence was to do as he bid. Ba’al paid them no mind, except to watch them through half closed lids as they bent forward to tip the pots of water giving him the rather nice view of their cleavage. All lifted eyes longingly to him, each hoping to be chosen to attend to his bathing needs. Usually he would pick one, sometimes two, to ‘assist’ him in washing, taking immense pleasure in the eager hands that roamed over his body. All were skilled at the task and their ministrations normally left him, and them, for he took great pride in not being a selfish lover, well sated. Today, however, the women were to be disappointed. He had no interest in what they were offering. Silently they bowed out of the room, the last hitting the glyph to close the door to keep the steam in, leaving their God alone.

Ba’al lolled his head back, letting the steam soak through his pores, the heat of the water relaxing his body. He was enjoying the peace of the moment. His Jaffa were more than capable of supervising the final leg of the relocation to his new home-base. The minor Goa’uld’s had scurried off to their own quarters after his fit of temper earlier and would not disturb him with their trifle demands and problems. And he had hours yet before night fell on the First World and he had to leave to visit his pet. Nothing to do except relax and congratulate himself on foiling SG-1’s mission.

The door quietly hissed open, irritating Ba’al at the disturbance. "I wish to be alone," he growled, not looking up.

"My Lord, you requested I return to you."

At the sound of Aurelia’s voice his eyes sprang open, his heart pounding in anticipation to see the results of his order. He sucked in a sharp breath at the rich red locks now cascading over her shoulders. He didn’t know how she had done it, didn’t particularly care, but somehow his lo’tar had managed to match the hue of the seer’s. With the steam misting the air between him, blurring her features, for a few seconds he could have sworn it was the seer standing before him. His body stirred in response.

"Does the color please you, My Lord?" Her tone was breathy at the sudden lust that sparked within his black eyes. When Aurelia had entered his quarters she had seen the spray of creamy sperm that had dribbled down the mirror and floor, and had worried that her worst fear had come to pass; that Ba’al had grown tired of her and was turning his attention elsewhere. Now seeing the passion that burned within him as he gazed upon her she banished that fear.

"Indeed it does."

That dual voice sent a shiver of delight down her spine.

"Close the door and add another dose of water to the r’hitty’estus before joining me." The illusion that she was the Tau’ri woman had not lasted and he hoped that by intensifying the misty cloud in the room his eyes would once again be deceived.

Aurelia poured another cupful of water over the rocks then turned to face her God, reaching behind her to undo the clasp of her top with one hand, while the other slid her skirt off. The garments dropped to the floor and she glided towards him. Though she could barely make out his features through the thick steam, the rasp of his breath and the flash of golden light from his eyes told her he found her desirable. She slid into the far side of the bath and bobbed closer. "How shall I pleasure you, My Lord?"

His response was to let his hips float upwards, making his burgeoning shaft periscope to the surface.

She moved between his legs, eager to bring him oral stimulation, but before she could position herself correctly his thighs closed around her torso stopping her.

"It is impressive, is it not?"

"Yes, My Lord," she replied without hesitation.

"Long in length and wide in girth?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Say it."

"My Lord?"

His thighs tightened around her chest and he hissed, "Tell me!"

Aurelia drew in a short breath, all that her constricted chest allowed. "A longer shaft I have not seen, your girth memorably wide."

"More," he demanded, his hand moving down to stroke his member himself.

Thoroughly confused she elaborated. "You are magnificently large, any woman would be enraptured to have your thick velvety length buried within her womb-"

Her last word was cut off as he shifted his legs around her. One dropped down to brace himself while the other jerk her forward. His hand snaked out to the back of her head forcing it down into his crotch. Immediately she began to fondle him with her tongue and lips, while trying to subdue the inking of worry and fear at Ba’al’s actions. This was not like him. Ba’al was an astute lover, getting as much enjoyment from making her scream out in ecstasy as satisfying himself. There had been the rare occasion where she had displeased him and he had been quite ruthless in his punishment, but she had not done anything to warrant such punishment now. His fingers dug into her skull as he forced his thick shaft down her throat and she battled to stop the automatic gag reflex. Her gaze flickered up, silently pleading with him to ease up.

Ba’al saw those eyes and yanked her face back down, so all he could see was the crown of red hair. It wasn’t green that he wanted to see, it was violet. "Keep your eyes down," he snapped.

Aurelia did as bid and continued sucking as best she could, hoping that if she performed well he would revert back to his normal self. She was just about to relax the muscles to deep throat him when she felt him soften slightly in her mouth.

With a growl he pulled her off him and sat up, his fingers biting into her shoulders as he spun her around so her back was to him. Without preamble he pushed her down, thrusting his hips up.

She stifled a cry of pain as he thrust into her unprepared well from behind.

"Feel how large I am. How your body struggles to accommodate my length!" He rammed into her as deep as he could, his hands gripping her hips and grinding her against him. "I am your almighty God!"

"Yes, My Lord!" she gasped.

With a loud groan he gave a final thrust, his seed gushing into her. He took a moment to compose his haggard breathing then released his hold on her.

Aurelia drifted to the side of the bath keeping her face averted from him.

Ba’al rose, climbing out of the water and donning the robe that had been laid out earlier by the woman he has just violated. He spared a glance in her direction. "See to it that food is brought. I have much to do and do not want to be disturbed."

"Yes, My Lord." The slave waited until he had left the room before shakily climbing out herself. What have I done to upset my God? She quickly dried off and redressed, his final groan reverberating in her ears. Surely she must have misunderstood. A slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment making him slur his voice. For even when her God was punishing her, he always used her name. And her name was Aurelia, not Annika.