He was falling, of that he was reasonably sure. The darkness around him made making certain of his circumstances slightly more difficult than would normally be the case but the lack of anything solid under him was indicative. Not to mention the wind rushing past him, or him rushing past it if you wanted to be more precise. He had been falling for, as near as he could figure, about two minutes now and unless he was falling from orbit of a very unusual planet he should have landed by now. Of course as that would likely have been fatal he was more than willing to grant that this particular fall was one of the better ones he'd experienced.

That didn't make it any less concerning of course. One moment he had a Tau'ri plasma beam melting the front of his last Ha'Tak into so much slag and the next a big white flash and he was falling. Having his hair whip about his face was getting terribly tiring so he did rather wish this unusual experience would end soon enough. The sound his finely tailored gold embroidered robes where making was starting to get irritating too. The sleeves sounded like flags in a hurricane and the last time he'd experienced that he'd had his Jaffa vaporise the flag pole and decreed flags banned, under pain of horrific pain.

Before Arawn, minor Goa'uld and former ruler of six small worlds had a chance to become further irritated at this non-lethal fall a second bright flash of light briefly blinded him. As his vision cleared he could see a dark grey metallic roof rushing away from him, giving him just enough time to realise that this second fall was not going to end painlessly before he landed on his back with a decidedly unprofessional string of Goa'uld curses escaping his lips.

Of course the question now arose where was he? Having never experienced an Asgard teleportation beam before he was willing to entertain the possibility that the Tau'ri ship had beamed him off before his ship exploded. The drab interior certainly looked like something the Tau'ri would build. Putting that aside though he still had everything he had been wearing before the teleport which meant he might actually stand a chance of taking over the ship himself and what a trick that would be.

Springing to his feet in a move most self respecting Gou'uld would never be seen imitating he expected to see several Tau'ri guards pointing their ugly guns at him. Instead he found himself in the centre of a rather large bay filled with what looked like death gliders which were missing their wings. Dozens of humans dressed in the ugliest shade of orange, or maybe it was brown stood staring at him with looks of shock. Not being an expert in Tau'ri fashion he couldn't be certain but he did think they tended towards blue or green, not outhouse orange.

The tableau before him was shattered when one of the humans slammed his hand onto a big red button and began shouting into something on the wall. Almost instantly alarms began to sound and the rest of the poorly dressed slave race scuttled into hiding. For some reason that Arawn could not fathom, any human civilisation that figured out how to make electricity work invariably designed their alarms around big red buttons. The flashing light that came on seemed to be optional, depending on where you happened to be. Of course knowing full well what would soon be coming he fiddled briefly with his hand device and activated his personal shield. None of that showy golden glow some of the System Lords set their shield to, he actually liked seeing what was happening without a rosy gold glow. Of course considering the decor of this place the golden glow might be preferable.

A moment later six humans wearing black and carrying what looked like Tau'ri weapons stormed out of a nearby door. Most of the other humans were gone but the one who had set off the alarm remained with a rather affronted expression on his face. The six soldiers spread out as they advanced.

"Well then, I trust you wanted me for something?" Arawn spoke in English. Hardly any of the Tau'ri spoke a decent language so he'd just have to make do. His deep Goa'uld voice sounding even more unusual in this cavernous place. The six men stopped and exchanged glances before one of them answered. Arawn had no idea what he said, it certainly wasn't English.

Clearly despite the fact these humans shared similarities with the Tau'ri they were somewhat different. A fact which truly gladdened his heart because his chances of survival just went up. Shaking his head he tried again in Goa'uld, to much the same result. The humans continued to make pointless untranslatable demands and wave their weapons about. If there was something you could expect from humans the galaxy over it was that they would wave their weapons about at the slightest opportunity. Sighing in frustration and not a little bit of anger at the sheer primitiveness of these humans his eyes glowed with an inner light.

An instant later two of the humans opened fire. Definitely similar to Tau'ri weapons and just like Tau'ri weapons the bullets slammed into the personal shield with a flash of gold and accomplished exactly nothing. With an ever so slight display of surprise Arawn pulled a Zat'nik'tel from his belt and shot both of the soldiers once. The blue lightning arcing over their bodies before they collapsed unconscious. He was willing to be somewhat lenient with these primitives, clearly they didn't have a clue what they were up against which meant they were all potential subjects. The other four reacted with admirable swiftness, opening fire and ducking into cover. At first Arawn tried to shoot them but honestly his aim wasn't all that spectacular. What kind of God really needs to go shooting regularly? So after a few failed attempts he simply walked up to whatever they were using for cover, letting the bullets bounce uselessly from his shield and shot them at point blank. Always useful to make an unkillable first impression when dealing with primitives.

Looking around he spotted the human which had sounded the alarm standing in the same spot and walked over to him. The poor man was frozen in place his eyes staring as Arawn approached. As he drew near the spell seemed to break and the man started to shout into the panel beside him. Clearly speaking to his superiors and letting them know their warriors achieved precisely nothing. What surprised Arawn though was that he was actually catching a few words here and there. It wasn't a language he had heard often and the pronunciation was abysmal but shockingly as more spilled from the humans mouth he quickly realised it was understandable.

Tucking his weapon back into his belt Arawn reached out and pulled the primitive away from the panel. Briefly ignoring the shouts of protest and calls for information before pinning the orange clad man to the wall, his toes only barely in contact with the ground. The man struggled to break free while Arawn dredged his mind for the words he was looking for but a normal human really had little chance of overpowering a Goa'uld. Finally when he was ready Arawn spoke.

"This language, do you understand it?" The question seemed to take the human by surprise causing him to frown and stop struggling. Arawn had to repeat the question twice before he got an answer.

"I understand you. What's wrong Toaster, get some wires crossed on your way here?"

Arawn had no idea what a toaster was. Unless he really meant some device used to toast bread and the Goa'uld was fairly certain he hadn't hit the human on the head all that hard. It was clearly meant as some kind of insult, but it was so unusual he couldn't find it in himself to be insulted. Besides, he had a use for this one and pulling off his head would make it much more difficult. With a small internal shrug he let the man down and released him. "I'm not interested in your talk of toasting. Trot on over to your primitive little toy there and tell your God I wish to speak with him."

"I'm sorry, we don't have a temple on this ship so I doubt the Gods will be down any time soon to answer your prayers. Would you like to talk to the commander?"

Arawn's eyes flared in irritation. Why was it that primitives always had glib replies when facing their deaths? With a steadying breath and masterful self control he nodded once. Perhaps later he'd decorate a wall of this hanger with the humans blood.

The orange clad man moved back over to the panel and with several suspicious glanced over his shoulder spoke into it. "Ops it's the chief. The glow-y eyed Toaster would like to speak with our Gods, or if they're unavailable to the Commander."

The ridicule in his voice was hard to miss and once again Arawn had to resist smearing him all over the wall. At this range a pulse from his hand device would push him against the wall and pop him like a balloon. To take his mind off it he began to tug his hair back into so semblance of position. There was really only so much he could do without a mirror or comb but the long fall had really ruined the whole style and the slave which had put it up this morning was almost certainly dead. Plasma had a tenancy to result in death when observed at close distances. It was actually quite tragic. That slave had impressive skill with a hairbrush. Shaking himself back to the present he realised this chief had finished talking to whoever was in charge and was now looking at him.

"The commander has agreed to speak with you. You'll be lucky if he doesn't toss you out an airlock for killing the marines though." Arawn was about to run with the usual threats, bloodshed, God routine but realised the whole merciful one might work for him this time. He'd only shot the primitives once after all.

"They're not dead," he spoke, his voice echoing in a very disconcerting manner. "Merely rendered unconscious. They should recover soon."

"Oh, well there's marines waiting outside that bulkhead for you. They'll escort you to the commander." With his piece said the chief rushed over to the unconscious men. Whether to help them or just to see if they lived mattered little to Arawn.

Turning to the indicated door Arawn went to step through only to find it stubbornly closed. It clearly lacked the ability to open automatically which just went to show human ships hardly deserved the name in Arawn's opinion. A quick glance to either side of the door likewise revealed no buttons to open it and so with a disappointed sigh his gaze fell on the large round wheel in the centre of the door. These primitives actually required the door to be opened manually. Reaching out he spun the wheel with ease and pulled the door open to be greeted with a virtual phalanx of firearms. It was honestly astonishing they managed to pack that many people into such a small hallway and had them all point their guns at him.

"Before you get all blustery, no I'm not handing over anything, don't even ask. You're just here to lead the way, though if it takes all sixteen of you to find your way around this ship I do pity you." Not waiting for a reply Arawn stepped through the hatch, his shield flaring slightly as it pushed the nearest soldiers back. Every Goa'uld had heard the story of Apophis getting a knife through the hand and made the necessary adjustments to their personal shields. Personally Arawn would have loved to see Apophis's face when that happened, the arrogant youngster deserved it.