Sobek's fingers flexed, the gold end caps of the hand device rippling in the field of Smith's vision. The movement was lazy and unconscious, more a minor outlet of energy and strength while the God thought it over. He didn't trust Smith with the same task he sent the slaves on. The message had gone out: the entire population of the planet was to work on the closest step pyramid, and the ha'tak that lay underneath. His fleet was massive. It would rise again, but restoring his fleet would take time. Thousands of years spent grounded, with little maintenance, made it impossible to carry out his Will just yet. Restoring his fleet, even if it meant working themselves to death for their God, was work only meant for those who could he knew were of his faith.

The crocodile helmet materialized and folded upwards then sealed in on itself in the sharp clang of metal. Mechanical eyes rotated away from Smith.

"You will follow." Sobek said and turning, led the way out.