Retaliation (4 page)

There they sat down to a feast, cutting slices off some fricasseed beast that would haunt the general’s nightmares for weeks to come.

Finally they got down to business.

“I have two concerns,” West began. “One is the de-clining quantity of quartz ore now coming through the StarGate. The other is the need to get qualified techni-cal people aboard that disabled starship.

Please ask Kasuf how we can improve the first and accomplish the second.”

From all reports, this Kasuf-Jackson’s father-in-law-had distinguished himself as a tough negotiator.

Fine, West thought. Let the bargaining begin.

Jackson passed along West’s words, and Kasuf responded in Abydan. But it was obvious as he went on that he was showing more and more irritation. As Kasuf finished, he produced a handful of silver coins and threw them on the floor. West blinked for a moment when he recognized the coins as Susan B.

Anthony dollars. Then he remem-bered that the UMC had been using the coins to pay the Nagadan miners.

“What did he say?” the general demanded of Daniel Jackson. “He said that the decline in the tonnage of quartz going through the StarGate is because there are a lot of people leaving the city of Nagada. And, ironically enough, that’s due to the flood of Susan B. Anthony dollars you’ve sent here.” The muscles in West’s poker face set so hard, they hurt. “Explain,” he said. “In a couple of months you’ve taken Abydos from a slave, barter economy to a coinage-based free market. Speculation has raised its head-and the biggest mar-ket is in food. People are buying up grain, hoarding it-driving up the price. So the city folk are leaving the city for the farming enclaves where the food is.”

“But these people here are the government of the planet! Can’t they regulate the labor force-“ “That has an unpleasant ring for people who are just up from slavery,” Jackson replied. After a brief discussion with Kasuf, he returned to the general. “Things aren’t as monolithic as they seem,” he said. “There are two tribes on Abydos-the miners and the farmers. Each has its own Council of Elders, and the farmers have their own chief-a guy named Nakeer.” “Nakeer.” Kasuf nodded and repeated the name, then added more in Abydan. “Since times are tough in Nagada, a lot of miners are deciding to become farmers,”

Jackson translated. ‘They blame the economic dislocations on the inter-vention from Earth.”

“But we helped them win freedom, we’ve given them the benefits of modern medicine-“ West said in annoyance.

“Which translates as freedom to starve, while our modern medicine just serves to baffle them. Stick a needle in your arm and you won’t get sick? I’m afraid there haven’t been any miraculous cures. That only happens in the movies. The Abydan in the streets doesn’t see us as wonder workers anymore.” “Wait till they see what we’ve been doing with that quartz back in the labs,” West muttered. He stiffened, glancing from the military officer with him to Jackson. “Forget I said that.”

The general frowned. “We need to get researchers aboard that ship,” he said.

“Since our money isn’t any good to the people here, what can we offer?” Jackson transmitted the question. Then it was Kasuf’s turn to frown. He began to talk rapidly, forcefully, leaning forward from the pile of cushions where he half reclined.

Whatever he’s saying, it’s very important to him, West thought. I hope this won’t turn out to be the deal breaker.

“As you heard, Kasuf wants a lot of things for his people. But they really break down into two things.

Health care and education. Kasuf wants his people healthy, especially the children. And since he sees ever more machines coming through the StarGate, he wants his young people trained for the future. That means knowing how to use our technology, how to fix it, and further down the road, how to make it.”

“I’m willing to guarantee that,” West said promptly.

Jackson translated, and Kasuf and his colleagues exchanged dubious looks. Are they annoyed because they set too low a price? West wondered. Or is this just suspicion that I gave in too easily? Maybe I should have haggled a bit more.

One of the other Elders spoke up. He didn’t sound friendly. “Old Tatjenen here thanks you for your quick agreement. But he says words are cheap. For some reason, the Abydans don’t trust you. In fact, the Elders of Nagada have a hard time accepting the word of anyone from Earth.” Daniel Jackson’s voice was cutting.

“You’re from Earth,” West pointed out.

“And they know I’ve been straight with them,” Jackson shot back. “So has the colonel here.”

“You filled the locals’ heads with doubts about UMC,” West continued. “Only after they started screwing over the people here,” Jackson replied. “And I’d say those UMC guys justified everybody’s doubts after they maneuvered you and Keogh into almost starting a war for them.” He glanced at West.

“So you’ll have to excuse Kasuf and the others for being a little dubious about your proposals.”

“All right, here’s something a little more concrete,” West said, nettled. “Since we took over the mining op-eration, we’ve been providing health care for the workers. And I know Colonel O’Neil has been send-ing his medical personnel into the city. I’ll expand that by offering a complete immunization project for the city’s children-“ Jackson cut him off with a quick interchange in Abydan between himself and the Elders. The old men were looking at West like a collection of hungry eagles. “That’s much better than the promises UMC made-and never kept,” Jackson said.

“But I think you’ll have to sweeten the pot considerably more.” West took a deep breath. “All right.

Besides classes in machine operation, I’m willing to give Kasuf and his people all the equipment presently invested in the mine-when they’re qualified to operate it. That’s a bit more than the steel picks and shovels our engineers provided to replace those copper mattocks they were using.”

Jackson passed on the offer, to voluble discussion among the Elders. West noticed that Jackson was par-ticipating, even arguing. In the end, the translator shrugged. “A week after you start the inoculations, they’ll allow a small group in-perhaps a dozen people or so. We’ll also provide help with translating, which you’ll have to pay for.”

After some haggling, they at least reached a reason-able ballpark figure. It was exorbitant compared to the wages for a miner, but West was willing to pay. “Incidentally,” Jackson said, “only part of that fig-ure goes to a stipend for the actual translators. The rest is going to expand our English classes.” “Money well spent,” West said.

“Your people will be there on sufferance,” Jackson warned. “They’re still debating the rest of your deal.

This is just a show of good faith on their part.”

The general nodded. “Understood.” He glanced at his watch. “If you would please thank them for their attention, I’ll stop taking up their time.” West stood for a formal farewell, with fulsome hopes that this time harmony would prevail.

As West left, he was a little surprised when Jackson accompanied him to the Humvee convoy for the ride back to the base camp. “General, I don’t mean to knock your proposition, but what you’re offering is just a Band-Aid for the problems here.”

“It’s all I can give,” West replied. “Even with secret appropriations, I don’t have bottomless pockets.

We’ve got a Congress that wants to cut all spending.” To give the Egyptologist some credit, he argued eloquently for his adopted people all the way to the StarGate.

“Understand, Jackson, I don’t want to cause dislocations in the society here,” West finally said. “I want things stable, so we’ll receive dependable ship-ments of the golden quartz. From our side, we’ll give all the tools and training the people of Abydos can absorb. But if that causes troubles, your Abydan friends will have to find their own answers.”

He turned to the technician in charge of the alien in-stallation. “Warm up your magic donut there, Corpo-ral. I’ve got to be back in Washington by this evening.”

The sun was setting by the time Daniel Jackson got back from the base camp. Though the twisting streets of Nagada were in shadow, a stifling heat seemed to radiate from the adobe-brick walls of the buildings around him. A wasted day, Daniel though moodily. The problem was, most of his days seemed wasted-spent in meet-ings with the Elders, or translating for the Earthling du jour. His hieroglyphics literacy courses had gone to Sha’uri and some of his brighter students. All he had time for was the advanced English class. On rare occa-sions he managed to snatch a few minutes for pure research.

Abydan culture was a treasure trove for an Egyptolo-gist, ancient ways of life and thought perfectly pre-served like an insect in amber. Even more fascinating, if somewhat gruesome, were the ways of Ra’s empire. From the hidden histories and folk tales came tales of striking personalities-people who had been wor-shipped as gods. Some of the tales were nightmares, recollecting Ra’s cruelties or Hathor’s massacre. Some were garbled tales of great constructions raised, of battles between gods.

Daniel found them all fascinating-when he could wedge a little space into his schedule. Unfortunately, his schedule generally seemed devoted to meetings to change the very culture he wanted to study.

Like today, when I played glorified tour guide to General Close-to-the-vest West. Oh, he’d been there as Kasuf’s representative, to speak his piece for Nagada and Abydos. West had upped the ante a little, but not too much. Daniel feared there wouldn’t be enough to cushion the painful transition Abydos would have to make. The day had been a double waste-he’d been taken from things he could have done well to be virtually ineffective, telling West things he didn’t want to hear.

Daniel was abruptly reminded of his student days, when the department head would shepherd well-heeled types through museum workshops to generate the wherewithal for another dig. That’s what he’d been doing today-playing administrator, the one job he’d always hated.

He rounded a bend in the road and stopped short. Squatting against a wall, head lolling, was a man with a chipped pottery bowl in front of him. His eyes were closed, and insects crawled on his face.

Some sixth sense warned the man of Daniel’s pres-ence. “Please, lord, spare a coin ...”

Daniel hurried on. There never used to be beggars in Nagada. Families took care of their own. Or, he reflected with a chill, Horus guards disposed of indigents. Everywhere he looked, the old, pre-revolutionary society seemed to be breaking down. The malaise showed in the repairs made after the udajeet strafing attacks. The new buildings and patched walls were done in a slapdash manner. Why craft and carry bricks with pride after seeing the Earthlings’ machines move tons of dirt and sand?

Daniel felt a stab of relief as he finally reached his home. Within the mud-brick walls the rooms were cool-and dark.

“Sha’uri?” Daniel called, although it was obvious his wife wasn’t home.

He fumbled around, finding an oil lamp and light-ing it from a banked fire. Well, this was just perfect.

Here he was, home after a hard day of pissing the time away, and the lady of the house was nowhere to be found. Daniel ventured into the kitchen area and poked around in the larder. Frankly, it looked pretty bare. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the stuff on hand.

The problem was, Daniel hadn’t gotten the hang of Abydan cuisine. Back on Earth, his notions of home cooking had revolved around Spaghetti-O’s and microwave meals.

He was flopped on a pile of pillows, trying to read by the flickering flame on the lamp when a tired-looking Sha’uri finally came in. “There’s nothing to eat-at least, nothing I could make,” he said, rising to his feet. “So, what’s up? You’re kind of late.”

“Father and the Council came to a decision about the offer from the general,” Sha’uri announced.

“Un-less you were able to get better terms.” “He doesn’t care what happens here as long as he gets his gold quartz,” Daniel said bitterly. He glanced at his wife. “I’m surprised the Council took so long to decide on the deal.”

“Oh, the agreement came quickly enough,” Sha’uri said. “They were asking me which people we could spare from our literacy classes to work with the scien-tists from Earth. The job requires people who can both read hieroglyphics and speak English. And, of course, we don’t want to strip your English class-“

“Wait a minute!” Daniel interrupted as her words fi-nally penetrated. “I’m in charge of those classes.

Don’t you think I should have been consulted?” “We wanted to begin-what is the phrase? start the ball rolling?-as soon as possible,” Sha’uri said.

Daniel knew she was nervous. She didn’t usually stumble over idioms like that. “Father arranged a good rate of pay for the transla-tors, as you may remember,” Sha’uri went on. “The Council thought the quicker we were ready, the better.” “That’s the sooner the better,” Daniel said. “I still want to look over the roster.”

“Do that,” Sha’uri replied in annoyance. “You complain about overseeing the tasks of others till you have no time to work yourself. But when someone tries to relieve you of that labor, you insist on playing the overseer anyway. You can’t-“ She snapped her fingers. “What is the word?” “Delegate,” Daniel interjected. Then he wished he hadn’t opened his mouth.

“Always correcting!” Sha’uri flared. “Always you act like an overseer!” Coming from a person just recently up from slav-ery, her choice of words was deliberately provocative. Daniel had seen the overseers at work in the mines of Nagada. Ra’s brutal Horus guards had carried a blast-lance in one hand and a leather lash in the other.

He held up a hand. “Just because I want to make sure things are done right-“ “You don’t think I could sort through for the best translators?” Sha’uri demanded. “Must I be your stu-dent forever?”

Daniel sighed. More and more of late, their evenings had been marred by arguments. Usually they were over trivial things, but it meant going to bed angry with each other.

It seemed that the honeymoon was definitely over. “Sha’uri, I’m tired. I spent the day doing a job I’m not good at, and perhaps missing a job where I could have been useful. If I take what I’m doing too seriously at times, it’s because I’ve never handled so much responsibility.”