Bill McCay - Stargate Rebellion

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STARGATE REBELLION

BILL MCCAY

CHAPTER 1

THREE AWAKENINGS

Dawn was still hours away, but a subtle lightening of the shadows in the

suburban bedroom foretold that sunrise, inevitably, would come. Bit by

tiny bit, Sarah O'Neil could distinguish more and more details on the

dresser and bureaus. She lay propped on one elbow, silently studying her

bedmate in the indistinct gloom. Soon Colonel Jack O'Neil would be up,

shaved, starched, and off to the nearby Marine base. Sarah was glad

that his classified tasks now involved deskwork instead of killing

people in the field-for the time being, at least. She'd feared his most

recent mission was to have been his last. Jack had fallen apart when

their son, Jack Junior, died in a gun accident. Their all-American boy

had joined the casualty lists in a case of friendly fire-from jack's own

pistol. In the months that followed, Jack had either avoided this bed

or lain beside her, his entire body tight as a clenched fist. For hours

he'd sat alone in his den, playing with a 1911 Army Colt automatic, an

old-line officer's sidearm, .45 caliber-capable of spattering his brains

all over the wall if he finally decided to swallow the gun barrel. When

the orders came, sending Jack away on another mission, Sarah believed

his superiors were merely aiming him like a piece of ordnance-a

combination suicide bomb and detonator. But Jack had come back. And she

had been surprised by joy when, even more inexplicably, Jack returned a

healing man. Their son's death wasn't completely behind him, but

somewhere on this mission he never spoke about, he'd come to terms with

Jack junior's loss. Jack returned neither as the walking wreckage he'd

been right after the funeral, nor the near parody of the spit-andPolish

officer he'd transformed into upon getting his orders. He'd been-himself

again. And on his return from wherever, they'd made love for the first

time in too, too long. As soon as he'd undressed, Sarah saw he had not

had an easy mission. Technicolor bruises marred Jack's ribs and the pit

of his stomach-souvenirs of brutal hand-to-hand combat. She'd tried to

be gentle. And the usually gungho colonel had been almost shy, as if he

wasn't sure the pieces would fit together again. They certainly had, and

that had helped the healing. Silently, Sarah examined the familiar

features. From the moment she'd met the cocky young combat corporal,

she'd been struck by the contradiction implicit in his go-to-hell eyes

and his set, determined jaw. Now the eyes were closed, the jaw

softened. In the vulnerability of sleep, the elder Jack looked almost

like his lost son. Sarah slid across the bed, wrapping her arms around

her husband as if trying to shield him with her body. After months of

quiet, she knew that today one of those shadowy superiors Jack answered

to would be coming to the base. He's had so little time to be a human

being-so little practice, she thought as she clung to her husband. I

hope they won't send him somewhere that will turn him back into a robot

again. On the planet Abydos, Daniel Jackson looked up at the ceiling and

surreptitiously flexed his fingers in an attempt to bring circulation

back to his right arm. Not that he minded the reason for the lost blood

supply. Sha'uri's head lay across his biceps as she cuddled against

him, the fine features of her face burrowing into his chest. Daniel had

followed a strange road to get here. Fellow Egyptologists had dismissed

him as a crank for arguing that the sudden flowering of Nile

civilization must have its roots in an earlier culture. But he'd found

an artifact of that predecessor civilization on a hush-hush government

project. He'd christened it a StarGate from hieroglyphics connected with

the find. Then he'd been put to work deciphering cryptic signs on the

StarGate itself, which turned out to represent star constellations. His

key had allowed government scientists to unlock the StarGate. And,

accompanying a team of recon Marines, Daniel had been hurtled to this

strange planet to find Nagada, Sha'uri-and a vengeful semi-human

creature who ruled Abydos and other worlds as the sun god Ra. Daniel

helped rouse rebellion among the human slaves while the Marines and a

few young rebels battled Ra's guardsmen. Both Daniel and Sha'uri were

mortally wounded, only to be resurrected by Ra's extraterrestrial

technology-a strange quartz-crystal sarcophagus. Ra explained that his

technology had been the base of later Egyptian civilization, but his

earthly slaves had revolted, burying the StarGate. Now, millennia

later, he would punish the human homeworld through the reopened gate. He

would send an atomic bomb back to Colorado, amplifying its power with

his mysterious quartz-crystal. Revolt and the efforts of the Marines

forestalled that plan. In the end, the nuclear blast had destroyed Ra

himself. Daniel decided to stay on Abydos. The local population had not

only been used shamelessly, they'd been kept illiterate and ignorant of

their past. Daniel could teach them-while at the same time learning the

roots of Egyptian culture. Besides, he was living out an adventure of

the sort he'd only expected to see on movie screens. He'd even wed the

local chief's daughter. Daniel stared up at the cracked adobe-style

ceiling. There was much to be fixed here. He'd started by trying to

get the local population literate. In the past months, he had taught

hieroglyphics to a basic cadre-Sha'uri, several of the local Elders, and

a number of interested townsfolk. This first generation was now

teaching basic classes while Daniel gave advanced instruction. Today,

his postgrad workshop had met in the secret archives of Nagada.

Generations of secret scribes had filled the walls of a hidden room with

the true history of Ra's infamy, despite the sungod's proscription on

writing. One of Daniel's first actions was to copy these hieroglyphics.

He remembered Sha'uri's halting translation of one section. "When those

on Ombos rebelled, Hathor went forth as the Eye of Ra. She covered that

world in blood, till, wounded, she entered the vault of Ra to sleep ever

since." Daniel was reminded of an Egyptian myth. To foil a human

revolt, Ra sent cat-headed Hathor, goddess of lust and quick vengeance,

to slaughter the conspirators. But she developed a taste for blood,

planning to kill all of humanity. The gods, concerned at the loss of

worshipers, created a lake of beer stained with berry juice. The

bloodthirsty goddess drank it up, fell into a drunken sleep, and awoke

as her usual light-hearted and sexy self. Now we have the history behind

the myth, Daniel thought. Thanks to hieroglyphics. But a voice nagged

from the back of his head. Maybe you should be teaching these people

English instead. Nagada depended on agriculture and handicrafts-a

subsistence economy, but most of the work force had been miners. The

city was near a deposit of that quartz-like crystal used in so much of

Ra's technology. It had been a major export, even if the people had

gotten nothing back. it might become a paying export after the

scientists on Earth saw some of the items O'Neil brought back through

the StarGate. Daniel tried to caution Sha'uri's father Kasuf and other

city

Elders about terrestrial business ethics. But it was hard even to

explain what a corporation was. For Kasuf and the others, visitors

through the StarGate were friends, and perhaps heroes. Daniel could only

hope it would stay that way. Sha'uri shifted and sighed. She opened her

eyes, giving him a sleepy smile. "Dan-yer," she whispered, pronouncing

his name in her local tongue. Smiling back, Daniel decided to put his

worries on the back burner. The marble halls on the moonlet of Tuat were

not made for raised voices. Especially this hall, with its pyramidal

dome of crystal rising to a point far overhead. Not for the first time,

Thoth wondered why Ra had topped this particular structure with a dome

of viewing. Outside was merely airless rock, unblinking stars, and,

hanging in the sable sky, the grayish-blue bulk of the world this

moonlet circled. Even after ten millennia, the planet had yet to recover

from ecological catastrophe. According to the secret records, this is

where Ra had found his first servants, the hands that had built the

StarGates, the exoskeletal helmets, and the weapons that marked godhood

for Ra's human servants. The records hinted of a bargain being struck,

that Ra would take the inhabitants from their ruined planet to a new

ore. However, that world had turned out to be Ombos, the world of

blood. Thoth raised his eyes to consider the planet above. Whoever

those first servants had been, they'd built well. Even from this

distance he could make out the regular lines of their ruined

habitations. "Look at me, Ammit devour you!" Sebek's voice boomed and

echoed in the enclosed space. Sighing, Thoth redirected his regard to

the man prowling the pillared central aisle. He didn't know why Sebek

kept glancing around. He'd picked this spot for their clandestine

meeting. Thoth didn't mention that THREE other godlets-who-would-beRa

had chosen the same place. It was hard to believe that he and Sebek had

long ago been part of the same brood of tribute children sent to serve

Ra-pretty boys and girls. They'd grown up very differently. Thoth had

risen to head Ra's bureaucracy, becoming the accountant of the gods.

Physically, he resembled the headdress-creature that marked his godhood.

Thoth was the This-headed god-and the This was a stork-like bird.

Spindly of arms and legs, with an incipient potbelly, Thoth was not an

impressive sight in his white linen kilt. Sebek, on the other hand, was

the crocodile god, renowned for cruelty, one of Ra's planetary viceroys,

an overseer of overseers. He had the thick, muscular body of a warrior.

And if he didn't have the grace of lost Anubis, foremost of Ra's

fighters, he certainly had strength to spare. Right now he looked as if

he was just barely restraining himself from using that strength to break

Thoth's arms and legs. Thoth kept his eyes on the prowling warrior. He

was reasonably sure that Sebek would not descend to the use of such

forceful expedients-at least, not yet. But Thoth had learned to keep an

eye on adversaries, even those courting his support. For that was what

all these skulking colloquies were about-on whose side would the

machinery of administration fall? "Several of Khnum's people died in a

set-to with some Horus guards serving Apis," Sebek said. "The Ram has

been pushing the Bull hard of late. He turned cold, shrewd eyes to

Thoth. "Not that I'm telling you anything. Your scribes make excellent

spies. I saw it often enough on Wefen. Ra seemed to know my secrets

almost as soon as I knew them." Sebek swerved in his prowling course to

confront Thoth. "But," he said, his voice dropping, "such a system can

work only if there is strength at the head. I'm sure you know many

things. But whom can you tell now?" Thoth said nothing. In truth, the

scribes had provided much useful intelligence for Ra. But now Ra was

gone, vanished for months after what was supposed to be a short voyage

and visit at the backwater world of Abydos. From all over Ra's compact

empire, warrior gods came by StarGate to Tuat-the-world and flew up to

Tuat-the-moon-for Ra never allowed Star Gate access to his personal

sanctum. And on a moonlet where Thoth had once enjoyed a position as

second after Ra-as chief administrator-warriors and viceroys now jostled

one another, their servants testing the aggressiveness and resolution of

other factions. Predators all, they had been held in check because Ra

had culled the pack. But now it seemed more and more evident that Ra

was no more. The warriors' minds turned naturally to calculations of

succession. And for the more thoughtful minority such as Sebek and a

few others-those calculations went beyond quantifying the number of

available bodies and the tally of blast-lances those bodies could use.

"You could choose worse to back than me," Sebek went on. "We ate at the

same table as boys-served Him together." Throughout this talk, Thoth

realized, Sebek had never mentioned Ra by name. The warrior's voice

dropped to a whisper. "I remember how you dreaded it whenever you

displeased Him-how you feared the punishment He might mete out." Sebek

speared his old mate with cold eyes. "Think what punishment I'm capable

of. And if you won't serve me for old affection's sake-then fear me!"

He turned and left Thoth alone in the hall. Raising his eyes again,

Thoth studied the pitiless stars. Trust Sebek to issue the most direct

offer and to couch it as a threat. Certainly, there were worse

candidates for the place of power. Sebek could field a sufficient force

to seize the prize. But even with Thoth behind him, could Sebekcould any

of the would-be successors-retain power in the face of resistance from

the other contenders? Or would the battering of the warriors destroy

the prize? Shatter the irreplacable mechanical and human gears that

allowed the empire to function? Not to mention that backing the wrong

aspirant could get Thoth killed. If Anubis was amongst them, a fighter

of such proven ferocity that the pack could be curbed ... But Anubis had

gone with Ra. No comparable warrior walked the halls of Tuat. Unless

Thoth resolved on a far more dangerous gamble. He had to decide soon,

before hand-to-hand brawls became pitched battles with energy weapons. A

dubious prospect, with hard vacuum beyond the walls of Ra's pleasure

domes. Still worse, there would be no room to maneuver, no chance to

temporize with Sebek and the others who wanted Thoth's support. Thoth

activated his headgear, allowing the aspect of the This to cover his

face. His gangling frame moved smoothly, imbued with sudden purpose. He

headed for the lower levels of the pyramid, domain of machinery and the

occasional mechanic. But building plans existed, and these had to be

recorded, filed, and thus passed into the hands of the scribes. Thanks

to the plans, Thoth had found the airlock, and thanks to other records

he had learned of the necessities for workers to wear on their

infrequent maintenance jobs outside. The suit accommodated his kilt but

tightly gripped his chest and extremities in a sensation unfamiliar on

skin that usually went bare. Hookups ran to his helmet so he could

breathe. He cycled through the lock and set off across the bare rock.

Mere yards from the pyramid, the field of artificial gravity died away.

That was all to the good. Thoth set off on huge, exaggerated bounding

steps for a horizon that seemed unnaturally close. His destination was

far enough from the complex of pyramidal construction which housed Ra's

palace. It was beyond the view even of the crystal summit of the

tallest one the place where he'd just met with Sebek. Thoth was gasping

by the time he scaled the wall of the small craterlet. Even with the

lower gravity this represented unfamiliar exertion. At least this time

he had nothing to carry. The crater floor was of blackish rock, and if

the secret records hadn't told Thoth exactly where to look, he'd have

dismissed his destination as a shadow or a chance rock formation. Even

close by, the contours were irregular enough-and spalled by 8,500 years

of micrometeorite impacts-to be dismissed as natural. One had to look

down into the murky hole in the ground to identify the entrance to the

mastaba, or underground tomb. Thoth manipulated the entrance controls

and slipped inside. A pile of gear, brought by him piece by piece, lay

right at the access. He picked up a small hand light, then turned to

seal the tomb's portal. Only when he was sure it wouldn't be seen on the

surface did he activate his torch. The interior of the mastaba had

gotten far less attention than its artfully concealed entrance. The

chamber had apparently been chopped into existence with energy beams.

Its walls were crude and out of true, the blackish stone melted and

stagged in places. In one corner lay the burned and blasted remains of

the workers who'd done the excavating. Their twisted forms made a

striking contrast to the sarcophagus resting on the bumpy floor.

Exquisitely carved from the quartzose material reserved for the most

splendid of Ra's technological wonders, the stone box bulked large in

the crude quarters, seeming to glow with a muted golden radiance as

Thoth's light flashed on it. A sun disk decorated the head of the

funerary bier, which was twice as long as a man was tall. Hieroglyphs

ran across the waist-high covering stone-a hymn to eternal life. Thoth

turned to the other materials he'd cached in the tomb. He opened

canisters of pressurized air, bringing atmosphere back to the room for

the first time in millennia. At last Thoth opened his this mask and

took a deep breath. Then he turned to the sarcophagus, tapping several

of the hieroglyphics in a certain pattern. The crystal walls of the box

shifted as if they were live things. A seemingly solid cover stone

split into THREE sections. The sun disk rose head high, another section

of the cover stone moving with it, sliding out in two pieces to give the

disk wings. A pearlescent light flooded the room, coming from inside the

box. Thoth stepped forward, his face tight with excitement. The head of

the sarcophagus interior was shaped like a pharaonic headdress, forming

a sort of halo for the beautiful female face lying in repose there. The

woman had an olive complexion, dark but not tanned. Her aquiline

features were perfectly formed. With her eyes closed, she looked like a

beautifully crafted statue. Then Thoth noticed the slight rise and fall

of the lithe breasts under the pectoral necklace of her chest piece. The

eyes opened. Hathor lived.

CHAPTEr 2

INTELLIGENCE ASSESSMENT

Pain had not merely tinged, but had been Hathor's last conscious memory.

The battle for Ombos had no longer been in doubt. Step by ruthless step

she'd turned the situation on the revolting planet around until the

rebels didn't merely face defeat, they faced extermination. Even her own

troops feared her as the goddess who had covered a planet in blood.

Hathor had been directing operations against one of the few remaining

rebel strongholds, hidden in an inaccessible mountain range. The

udajeets, single-man gliders, had flown repeated missions, their paired

blasters firing incessantly to clear a landing area literally down to

scorched earth. But no sooner had she set foot to terra firma than one

of those red-haired devils burst out of a pit in the ground. The poor

bastard hadn't carried an energy weapon. Apparently, the rebels had

learned that the Horus guards could scan for such armament. But even as

Hathor aimed her own blast-lance, the rebel had hurled some sort of

metal implement. Spikes of white-hot agony radiated from her stomach.

But this was no mere stab wound. Her nerves first seemed dipped in

acid, then went terrifyingly numb. "Poison-" she slurred to one of the

Horus guards blasting the now unarmed assassin. Then paralysis set

in-and with it, searing pain. Every move on the way back to the StarGate

was etched in anguish. She could smell the rot emanating from her

stomach even during the brief udajeet ride. Whatever had been smeared

on that damnable blade was turning her flesh into a necrotic mess. If

she survived this, Hathor promised herself, she'd track that poison

down. A new weapon for her arsenal ... Even the flesh on her face was

black and splitting by the time she finally reached Tuat. Ra himself

was on hand to greet her, and Hathor's heart died a little at his

reaction to her appearance. There was only one hope for her survival.

That was internment in Ra's sarcophagus of wonder. Certain others of

Ra's servants-the irreplaceable ones-had been placed inside that

crystalline box, suffering from a variety of ills. They'd all emerged

fit and cured. So as Hathor came to consciousness, she opened her eyes

full of hope. Her strength and looks would be restored. And, of course,

Ra would be there to greet her. At the very least, her own servants

would be on hand. Instead of Ra's throne room, she found herself in a

mean little chamber, more like a cave or a dungeon. And she had no idea

who the single man staring down at her was. Hathor's muscles screamed in

protest as she forced herself upright, reaching -for the gawker. What

should have been a seamless, easy movement took an extra second enough

time for the man to take a step backward before she was out of the stone

coffin and grasping him by the throat. A pair of strides, and she

smashed the intruder against the crude wall. His face turned an

interesting mottled color before she released pressure on his airway.

With one hand cocked to deliver body blows if necessary, Hathor

activated his headdress. She expected to find a renegade Horus guard

engaged in a bit of voyeurism. Instead, she found ... Thoth. "This

cannot be," she muttered, pressing again to unmask the man. "Thoth is an

older man, but not so old that he would die before I-" The room

threatened to revolve around her. "Where am I?" Thoth sucked air through

a bruised throat. "On Tuat." He managed a soothing tone, at least. "In

a mastaba several miles from Ra's palace. "A tomb!" She gestured

wordlessly, indicating that her body was whole. "You slept, o Champion."

Thoth struggled to find the right words. "The records I studied

indicated that perhaps you had succeeded in your mission too well." "I

crushed the rebels as ordered, showing no mercy," Hathor responded. Her

lips twisted. "And in so doing, I caused even Ra some unease. So he

buried me away, for retrieval in case of some worse disaster. Is that

the case?" Hathor's eyes narrowed. "Or ... you mentioned records that

you had studied. If you thought to waken me to use against Ra ." Her

lips quirked again. "You've made a serious blunder, conspirator." Her

whole career, pushing her way into the circle of warriors who surrounded

the sun god, had been based on a strategy ancient even in her

time-seduction and dynasty. Even her husband, engineer of the gods,

hadn't dared reprove her for her "friendship" with Ra. And she knew,

knew that the ever young body of her liege responded to her wiles. But

the alien soul inhabiting that flesh had proven resistant. Yes, Ra's

alien ka was doubtless responsible for having her put away. Even so, it

would be unwise of this interloper to expect that she would nurse a

grudge. What had been done could be done again. She was awakened now.

And the surest way to Ra's favor would be to bring him the head of a

traitor. Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Thoth pressed

himself against the wall, quickly putting up a hand. "I brought you

forth because it seems that Ra is no more." Now it was Hathor's turn to

step back, staggered. For a second she was silent. Then, "How-" She

bit off the question she'd been about to ask: "How could this be

possible?" Instead, Hathor turned to practicalities. "How long have I

been immured here?" When Thoth gave her the answer, her eyes went round

with dismay. Eight thousand years was more than enough time to have

wrapped her actions in the trappings of legend. Her next question was

purely political. "Who now wears the cat's head?" Thoth looked

surprised. "There has never been another Hathor." A certain grim

satisfaction filled Hathor at this news. She had been deemed

irreplaceable. But it also meant problems. With a successor, she could

have challenged for her position-and with a single murder doubtless not

only won back her office, but gained a staff of servants and warriors as

well. Having no successor closed off that path to getting aid. She

stared at this Thoth, so many generations removed from the First Time.

What did he think her capable of? The Thoth of her days had been a

scribe and an intriguer-his weapon of choice the pen rather than the

sword. She doubted that this soft-bodied Thoth could offer her much in

the way of backup-his servants would not be skilled in physical force.

Did he count on her to take on the entire warrior caste single-handed?

She turned to him and put her question into words. "What do you expect

of meRa it seems, is gone," he said. "Someone must put his house in

order." Ah, Hathor thought, the dangers of legend. He does expect me to

vanquish these would-be successors alone and unaided. Still, she felt

the promptings of her own ambition. She had thought to create the House

of Ra by way of the path of love. Would it be so different to create

the House of Hathor by way of the paths of war? "We have much to speak

of." She sniffed and frowned. "And already the air here grows stale."

Thoth gestured to the pile of gear at the entrance to the mastaba. "I

have here another suit for traversing the airless plain. And I have

arranged apartments-" he made a self-disparaging gesture. "Humble

apartments for one of your stature. But they're secure, and in a

little-traveled area of the old palace." Hathor nodded. After more than

eight millennia in a stone box, her physical needs were modest enough.

And it would certainly be better to retain the element of surprise.

"Speak to me of leaders," she said. "What factions contend for Ra's

throne? Which of the viceroys has the greatest personal strength? Which

the largest following? Is there yet an Anubis? Or did he follow Ra

into the void?" Thoth began the briefing even as he presented the

atmosphere suit. Hathor had worn these suits before. She knew their

limits. And, of course, in the timeless workings of Ra's empire,

technology did not change. She was ready to leave by the time Thoth had

sketched out the short list of candidates most likely to achieve

ultimate power. Hathor was most interested in his description of his

old criche mate, Sebek. She had never liked the crocodile god of her

days. And this Sebek not only had a reputation as a fierce fighter, he

had a strong and well-trained entourage. In Hathor's eyes that made him

a prime target. "Enough," she finally said. "Let us be out of here."

She activated her own headdress, and for the first time in eight

thousand years, the face of the Cat was seen once again. It was well,

Hathor thought. The cat, with its supple body and soft purr, was

dismissed by many as a creature of mere sensual pleasure. So it had

been in her career. Too late, those dismissing her had discovered that

this cat had much in common with her cousin the lion. Perhaps it would

be so for this Sebek, and the other godlets who would be Ra. On the

other hand, they might be like this Thoth, believing in legends that

gave her an overblown reputation. That could be useful as well. She

could make an example of a front-runner, this Sebek perhaps-and

terrorize the rest into submission. Kill one, frighten a thousand. She

had learned that equation on Ombos, extirpating the rebels there. Now

she would bring this same equation to Tuat. Although, she realized, it

had already been instituted there by no less a personage than Ra

himself. From the very beginning of the First Days on Earth, Ra had kept

a mastery of the tools of terror. Thus had he bent the slave

populations to his will. And, if truth were to be told, terror had also

been part of the carrot and the stick which he'd used in leading the

gods. The carrot had been power, of course, and a lifetime extending far

beyond that of an average mortal. But if one should fail the sun god,

if one should displease Rathe punishment was death. And Ra could offer

death in so many unpleasant guises, like a session with his gem that

could turn bones to water. Like it or not, Ra had shepherded his

attendant gods with fear. Hathor smiled. She could do that. On Earth, a

military transport plane took off from Washington. Its interior was not

exactly spartan-after all, there was a senior officer aboard. But

General West was smart enough to fly only on regularly scheduled

jets-and not the only passenger. Other officers of similar rank had

never bothered to learn that simple lesson, and had managed to blight

their careers. A colleague of West's, a head honcho of a European

operation, had once flown from Rome to the U.S. in a huge, unscheduled

Starlifter with only his female aide on board. After being roasted in

newspapers across the country, that unfortunate general had wound up in

charge of counting penguins down in Antarctica. But if he flew by the

rules, nonetheless the general had plenty of room to spread out as the

plane reached its cruising altitude. Which was just as well-his

briefcase was full of reports to be read, and he had to come to a

decision on those contents before the plane landed. West's slightly

jowly face took on the stony aspect of the veteran poker player as he

reviewed the first of a succession of documents stamped TOP SECRET. This

was a technology assessment from the Pentagon big-domes who had

attempted to take one of those blast-lances apart and put it back

together again. Of course, they were careful to cover their scientific

butts, but they were reasonably optimistic. While they did not promise

production-line manufacturing of the weapons in two weeks, they did

offer the opinion that the technology was accessible. West frowned. The

only bottleneck was that the lances, like all the alien high technology

Jack O'Neil and the survivors of the Abydos recon team had reported on,

depended on that quartz-like crystal to work. And the only source of

that crystal on Earth was the StarGate. West idly speculated on how

many blasters they could make if they broke the matter transmitter, or

whatever it was, into small pieces.... That would solve two problems-the

weapons would permanently tilt the balance of power in favor of the U.S.

here on Earth, while dismemberment of the StarGate would close a

profoundly disturbing door on a hostile universe. He went back to

reading, this time switching to the survivors' after-action reports.

Energy weapons, matter transmission, a working starship. Those were just

a few of the technological goodies the recon team had observed on the

other side of the StarGate. On the other hand ... West shuddered as he

went back over Colonel Jack O'Neil's classified report. The StarGate

had almost been used as a delivery system for an amplified atomic bomb,

with a blast big enough to end civilization on this planet. Were the

possible advantages worth the all-too-concrete risks? Of course, O'Neil

had succeeded in using the matter transmitter to plant the bomb on the

starship, blowing it up and ending the career of the alien which had

styled itself as a god. But since the THREE surviving Marines had

returned to Earth, no one had gone through the StarGate. West had not

only secured the missile silo that housed the artifact, he'd posted the

toughest combat Marines he could find for roundthe-clock guard duty.

Nothing was to go in or out of that alien dingus without his say-so.

Managing the threat factors on Earth gave him difficulty enough. He was

unwilling to throw an entire new world into his risk calculations.

However ... O'Neil's report also stated that among the resources of the

planet Abydos was a sizable deposit of Ra's magic quartz-crystal. Much

as West would like to decline the proffered invitation to the universe,

he had to consider the strategic implications. With a ready supply of

the quartz element, Earth's technical base specifically, that of the

United States-could advance by a quantum jump. Even better, the U.S.

would have an absolute lock on this new technology. The Japanese

wouldn't be able to horn in and usurp production, because the raw

material that was the bedrock for the technological wonders would be

available only from America. It would come out of a hole in an American

mountain. So what if it had to traverse a million light-years to get

there? According to O'Neil's report, the natives of Abydos conducted

their mining operation in an inefficient-in fact, downright

primitive-manner. Apparently, that was due to the alien god's strangling

grip on the people. All well and good, but the situation would have to

change. If this brave new technology were to go into production, the

factories would require regular shipments-in bulk. That would be the

only economic reason for keeping this portal to the unknown open.

Large-scale mining would require machinery and, of course, the people to

operate it. And those operators would have to be people General West

could control. At first he had thought of the Army Corps of Engineers.

They certainly had the knowhow, and they were Military, by God. But he'd

quickly identified a drawback to using the military's construction arm.

The requirement was secrecy. Could they depend on some shorttimer

driving a bulldozer not to come home and talk about his building job on

another planet? Once again West wished that O'Neil had blown up the

StarGate on the Abydos side and removed this problem before it landed in

the general's lap. If nobody knew this stuff existed ... But the

technology and the crystal did exist, and in the Pentagon's need-to-know

culture, it was up to West to make a decision about it. He hadn't

reached his rank by passing the buck. He had a reputation for making

the right choices in clutch situations. The decision he was leaning

toward was the mining option-with a sizable security complement in case

any more unpleasant surprises came down out of the sky. But the miners

wouldn't be soldiers. They'd come from the United Mining Consortium.

UMC had done lots of government work in the past-including a number of

sensitive overseas operations in conjunction with representatives of the

intelligence community. West had done his homework, assuring himself

that UMC not only had the resources but the right kind of people to do

this job-people who could keep their mouths shut. Even better, the

company was used to working in the Third World, which would be a plus in

dealing with the primitives on Abydos. And UMC was quite resourceful in

keeping up production of whatever ore was being excavated, despite

piddling complaints by the natives or annoying shifts in their

governments. The general referred briefly to the newspaper clippings in

his UMC file. A native potentate toppled, a separatist movement in the

area of richest mining, a recalcitrant president supplanted by a more

accommodating military junta ... Yes, UMC was certainly a company that

could handle itself in the clinch. And for civilians, they would do

exactly the sort of job he wanted done. He had the names and numbers he

needed to start the ball rolling. No doubt UMC would want to send over

some prospectors, advance men, people to do a feasibility study. All

under the deepest shrouds of national security, of course. Well, he had

just the man to bird-dog them. Someone who had experience on the far

side of the StarGate. A military man who knew how to follow orders and

keep his mouth shut.

Colonel Jack O'Neil.

West smiled. Perhaps someday O'Neil would thank the general for putting

him in touch with the right people. Certainly, West expected to be

thanked ... by UMC. Not immediately, of course. But a person who puts a

company in the way of making a handsome profit-a monopoly position on a

scarce resource with many valuable uses. Well, such a person deserves a

reward. Lucrative consulting opportunities, perhaps a seat on the board

of directors. West leaned back in his seat. After all, the military

would expect him to retire one of these days. The military-industrial

complex just wasn't what it used to be. Even a general had to think

about his future.

CHAPTER 3

INFILTRATION

Shielding his eyes from the brutal desert suns of Abydos, Skaara

conducted a quick head count on the mastadge herd he and his friends

were watching. Sha'uri's brother had to admit that after his brief

stint as a freedom fighter, the shepherd's trade was even more boring

than before. He and his friends had become boy commandos almost by

accident, rescuing the otherworldly visitors from Ra's wrath. Indeed,

Skaara had learned most of his soldiering by observing the man he called

Black Hat-after the black beret worn by Colonel Jack O'Neil. There was

a warrior, despite the dull green clothes he wore. The man had a sharp

temper, exacerbated by the language difficulties-the only visitor who

spoke the local language was Daniel, his sister's husband. But Skaara

had admired O'Neil, and a certain friendship had grown between them.

He'd been vastly disappointed when his idol had disappeared into the

StarGate, returning to whatever unguessable world he had come from. It

wasn't merely a wish for action that fueled Skaara's discontent. He'd

quickly learned that war did not necessarily mean glory-his mates had

suffered casualties, and his friend Nabeh had nearly been killed. Still

worse had been the innocent civilians butchered as the flying udajeet

had blasted the city of Nagada from the air. Between his days of labor

and his work at night learning hieroglyphics, he had more than enough

activity to take up even the energies of youth. Yet even his studies

spurred restlessness. Translating the wall paintings of Nagada's hidden

archives gave more tales of Ra's tyranny, and tantalizing clues about

other worlds ruled over by the false god. What, for instance, had

happened on Ombos after cat-headed Hathor had covered that planet in

blood? Even the wise Daniel could offer no information. Slowly as his

studies progressed, Skaara also developed a desire to see these worlds

on the other side of the StarGate, to tell their peoples that Ra was no

more-to join with these star-brothers and fight for freedom as the

inhabitants of Abydos had done. He hadn't discussed these inchoate

aspirations with his father, the Elder Kasuf, with Sha'uri, or with

Daniel. But when he'd sounded out his shepherd friends, his fellow

veterans of the war against Rathe response was resoundingly affirmative.

So a new activity had been added to his schedule. In whatever spare

time remained after shepherding and studying, Skaara and his mates

practiced the arts of war. They drilled themselves in the arts of

concealment, in quick, darting movement under simulated fire. They

experimented with various weapons, and zealously worked to maintain the

few rifles and pistols the visitors from Earth had left behind. Skaara

had organized a careful scavenging operation in the ruins of the

visitors' base camp. The search had been rewarded when several boxes of

rifle ammunition turned up. And night and day, as an exercise in war and

discipline, Skaara detailed a few members from his shepherds' complement

to keep watch on the pyramid that housed the StarGate. Thus, when the

sudden chatter of a rifle on automatic echoed over the dunes, Skaara

wasn't exactly surprised. A gunshot was supposed to be the signal that

new visitors had arrived. But Skaara wasn't pleased. The signal was

supposed to be a single gunshot. He would have some choice words for

the watchers about wasting ammunition. Unless ... what if the visitors

weren't friendly and the watchers were defending themselves? Skaara had

a sickening vision of Horus guards pouring from the carved entrance arch

of the pyramid. He'd dreamed of taking freedom out to the other planets

of Ra's empire. Suppose one of Ra's lieutenants had come to Abydos with

the intention of restoring despotism? He snapped an order to the others,

and in an instant shepherd boys became warriors. They all carried

whatever weapons they could. Now, abandoning the mastadges, they formed

a rough skirmish line and headed for the watch point, a tall sand dune

that commanded a view of the rocky outcrop that supported the pyramid.

Skaara carefully deployed his men, rifles at the flanks, as they climbed

to the crest of the dune. They might be able to get a few shots at the

invaders. But when they reached the watchers, they found a pair of madly

capering boys. "Skaara!" shouted Nabeh, pointing into the distance

beyond the dune's face. "They're back! They've come back!" Skaara threw

himself on his belly, slipping another treasure from Earth out of his

cloak. O'Neil had given him the pair of black, compact binoculars

before leaving Abydos. As Skaara focused on the THREE figures sliding

down the escarpment to the sands below, he saw that Nabeh's eyesight and

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STARGATEREBELLIONbyBILLMCCAYCHAPTER1THREEAWAKENINGSDawnwasstillhoursaway,butasubtlelighteningoftheshadowsinthesuburbanbedroomforetoldthatsunrise,inevitably,wouldcome.Bitbytinybit,SarahO'Neilcoulddistinguishmoreandmoredetailsonthedresserandbureaus.Shelayproppedononeelbow,silentlystudyingherbedmateint...

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Bill McCay - Stargate Rebellion

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