Earth. Ethiopia.
Clint, consumed by frustration, cursed the exorbitant, often pointless, effort required to govern the Empire, whether the Ethiopian Empire itself or its shadows. He was expected to do more than simply imitate the original—though keen observers saw striking differences—but attributed these indirect signs to the heavy burden of power. Resolving the tangled web of state problems consumed his energy, like an insatiable monster that had been multiplying its offspring for decades. Rebelling against the established order, Clint, like a phoenix from the ashes, revived the Empire, turning rebellion into a platform for ascension.
The laws born of his will carried the seeds of prosperity for his subjects. Above all, hunger had to be sated: the purchase of advanced agricultural machinery, the implementation of innovative irrigation systems—all of this required his constant, personal oversight. Similarly, the army needed a radical transformation. The American teachings taught to his soldiers bordered on the absurd. Therefore, he was always accompanied by the Golden Legionnaires, whose skills, honed by generations of galactic warfare, served as a model for retraining the troops. The destruction of half the army, for all its brutality, became a catalyst for deeper reforms, as the remaining commanders, having witnessed the swift and merciless retribution, fell prostrate before their authority, horrified by the fate of their fallen colleagues. It's easy to create change when you're an autocrat, but how difficult when you're surrounded by worthless vassals.
Wretches mired in corruption, these corrupt wretches, whose only thoughts are profit, are incapable of producing anything worthwhile. And the population, plunged into the abyss of ignorance, suffers from a lack of education. One, henceforth the only one, has been destined to lead this people from the shadows of the Middle Ages into the twentieth century, for his predecessor, having sold off the state's treasures for seven billion dollars, has now legitimized the stolen goods, gaining access to the finances so essential to the realization of his plans. And these same funds, multiplied by Seth's secret accounts, will become the key to funding reforms, to providing loans to other states, carrying within them echoes of Szarekh's secret.
Transforming Ethiopia into an industrial titan is a colossal task. First and foremost, the people must be fed. Then, factories must be acquired—literally, buy factories—and begin supplying food and industrial goods. With low labor costs, the country will become a magnet for investors. Clint, like a traveling salesman, approached global powers, seeking the much-coveted investment, relying on the network woven by Latin American countries to foster investment. But the main obstacle to his success was competent contractors—and, alas, they were lacking.
Clint, as a Goa'uld, possessed a physiology beyond human comprehension, but even he felt the dire need of rest. He labored like a Jaffa at Szarekh's, limiting his sleep to three hours. The micromanagement imposed by circumstances was wearing him down. Trust had become an unaffordable luxury when everyone he surrounded himself with was a puppet of clans who saw the state as nothing more than their own personal trough. They temporarily fell silent, frozen in awe before his punishing sword, mercilessly cutting off the heads of those least capable of obedience or who dared to resist. But the others, lurking, continued to plot their schemes, throwing spokes in his wheels.
"Pass these orders to the secretaries of economics and defense," he said, handing a stack of papers to his assistant. The assistant, also a symbiont, had easily organized his workspace using high-tech gadgets: computers, printers capable of reproducing his handwriting, and other technological marvels designed to ease the burden of governance. The Ethiopian system of power was completely under control; every official's whisper, every word, was now transparent. The horrific tradition of decorating offices with portraits of leaders provided ideal opportunities to conceal eavesdropping devices.
"Okay. Have you considered buying outdated US equipment?"
"Yes, there's some logic to that. It will strengthen our relations, because they're too worried about the Emperor turning out to be a socialist. A bunch of idiots who refuse to admit they've been driven out of Latin America."
"They have some very strange peacekeeping strategies."
The Cold War, which had split the world into two opposing poles, held no interest for Clint. His goals were far more ambitious. However, this pleasantry-spinning competition was driving him to distraction. He needed to navigate between the US and the USSR, now that he had become the new Imperial Special Agent of the Ethiopian Empire. A vain title that belied the harsh reality: a poor country with a starving population. Urgent measures were needed to reverse this fatal trajectory.
"Have them prepare a convoy. We need to go to one of the provinces and remind the local idiots what happened to their predecessors."
He found the game of politics a fun pastime: sowing discord between factions, convincing them that they were full of traitors, and that anyone who brought them a "lucrative" offer was merely a provocateur. Clint even generously granted them three pardons for their misdeeds. After the third, inevitably, some "unfortunate" incident occurred.
The System Lords played similar multi-layered games in managing their vassals. The recruitment of foreign specialists bore fruit in some regions, but only very slowly. To revive a country that had lain in oblivion for so long required too many resources.
"Others have it much better. Urvashi is nearby, there are millions to rule, and all these aristocrats aren't here yet."
"Stop whining. You'll be a Lord or a High Lord someday..."
"I have already forgotten my throne name."
"I'll remind you," the secretary replied, bowed, and went off to work.
"I need a vacation, but I can't. They'll immediately create a mess. If I were human, I probably would have died of a heart attack by now."
Clint continued to work, then went to sleep, then woke again to dive back into work. Everything became a cycle. For the first time, the Empire had a competent ruler, someone who knew what to do: feed the people, ensure security, strengthen the army, prepare it to repel potential threats, develop the mining industry (after all, Ethiopia had been thoroughly explored for minerals), and develop the entire industry. He pursued every investor as if they were the last sip of water in the desert. And most importantly, he was a man with a plan, possessing a prodigious capacity for work, fueled by high-tech gadgets that enabled many tasks to be accomplished with unprecedented speed. But his symbiotic neighbor, ruling Somalia, was no easier.
He, moreover, governs an entirely new state. Strange things are also happening in Eritrea: since the independence referendum, there has been constant internecine strife between various factions. The Tok'ra would likely be sent there as well, to pacify the enemy and ensure victory for the right party. Ethiopia was landlocked, so it relied on other countries for maritime trade. Letting Eritrea go was short-sighted, but it was far easier to solve the separatist problem by allowing them to stew in their own juices for a while. Moreover, while the army was being reorganized, there was no point in undertaking military operations, wasting scarce resources.
A war with the separatists would look bad in the eyes of the international community. The absence of such a conflict, however, would improve their credit rating and appeal to investors. It's a good thing he doesn't run an intelligence network on Earth—his mother does that. Otherwise, he would definitely have gone mad. Maybe that's why the Goa'uld are losing their minds?