#102 - Resource Reclamation [SG-1/A:tS]
Feb. 8th, 2011 02:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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tthdrabblestitle: Resource Reclamation
word count: 200
fandom: Stargate SG-1
challenge: #102 - give me the microphone
disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
notes: Another drabble tag set in the "Moonfall" verse.
summary: In the old days, Illyria would have torn the fabric of space herself, but she had not yet recovered enough to worldwalk without damaging the shell.
Illyria fumed as she waited for the muck at the other end of the wormhole to respond. In the old days, she would have torn the fabric of space herself, but she had not yet recovered enough to worldwalk without damaging the shell.
In the years since she'd left the relocation mission on P3L-997, Illyria had taken advantage of the galactic power imbalance to usurp several minor Goa'uld strongholds, appropriating the worship of their slaves for her own. But it would take time to regain her former strength-- time the Ori invasion had not allowed.
Fortunately, her chosen successor Guide had ended their threat. Daniel was not Wesley-- but he was as close to an equal as she would find among the humans.
"They're contacting Dr. Jackson now, ma'am," the soldier operating the transmission device repeated himself, uselessly.
She snarled in impatience and grabbed the radio from the soldier's hand. "Where is my Guide?" she demanded, addressing the MALP camera herself.
A choked-off laugh echoed back in reply, followed by--
"I'm here. Hello, Illyria. A lot's happened since the last time I saw you."
Her mouth curved in a satisfied smile. The god-king and the god-killer: yes, he would do.
word count: 200
fandom: Stargate SG-1
challenge: #102 - give me the microphone
disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
notes: Another drabble tag set in the "Moonfall" verse.
summary: In the old days, Illyria would have torn the fabric of space herself, but she had not yet recovered enough to worldwalk without damaging the shell.
Illyria fumed as she waited for the muck at the other end of the wormhole to respond. In the old days, she would have torn the fabric of space herself, but she had not yet recovered enough to worldwalk without damaging the shell.
In the years since she'd left the relocation mission on P3L-997, Illyria had taken advantage of the galactic power imbalance to usurp several minor Goa'uld strongholds, appropriating the worship of their slaves for her own. But it would take time to regain her former strength-- time the Ori invasion had not allowed.
Fortunately, her chosen successor Guide had ended their threat. Daniel was not Wesley-- but he was as close to an equal as she would find among the humans.
"They're contacting Dr. Jackson now, ma'am," the soldier operating the transmission device repeated himself, uselessly.
She snarled in impatience and grabbed the radio from the soldier's hand. "Where is my Guide?" she demanded, addressing the MALP camera herself.
A choked-off laugh echoed back in reply, followed by--
"I'm here. Hello, Illyria. A lot's happened since the last time I saw you."
Her mouth curved in a satisfied smile. The god-king and the god-killer: yes, he would do.
