Retaliation (6 page)

By good luck, Kasuf’s counterpart among the farm-ers, an Elder named Nakeer, had been not too far away. As chief Elder of the farmer tribe, Nakeer spent his time traveling around the farm communes, some-what like an old-fashioned circuit judge.

Hearing of Kasuf’s call, Nakeer had summoned all the nearby Elders and set off for Nagada. Judging from local politics, Nakeer would probably have his positions ready and his people lined up by the time they arrived. The mastadge cavalcade didn’t seem to be in any great hurry. Watching the leisurely progress of the great beasts with palanquins on their back, Daniel had lots of time to notice details.

The farmers’ mastadges appeared pretty much the same as the big galumphing beasts Skaara and his friends used to herd. Their humpbacked bodies looked like spindle-legged crosses between musk oxen and bison. Then nature had added a face more like what you’d expect to see on a brontosaurus-and tacked on a beard. To ride these elephant-sized beasts required a com-bination saddle and seat-with a sun shade on top. The outriders on the caravan had shades like moth-eaten army blankets. The VIPs in the middle of the group had silks and tassels to keep the sun off. As usual, rank had its privileges.

What really caught Daniel’s attention were the weapons some of the caravaners were waving. Those guys were toting M-16 rifles!

Standing beside him, Kasuf spotted the weapons, too. He stiffened in his ornate robes. Before Nakeer had even arrived, the farmers’ Elder was making a point. The outriders parted, and the Elders they guarded rode through the gates. Their leader pulled up his mastadge before Kasuf and his entourage.

“Welcome to Nagada, Nakeer of the farmer clans,” Kasuf intoned. “And greetings to our mining brothers of Nagada.” The rider was a villainous-looking character with a black beard marked on one side with a white blaze. Nakeer seemed younger than Kasuf, but his face was seamed from years of riding beneath the desert suns.

“We have arranged a feast of salutation,” Kasuf said as the leaders of the farming clans dismounted.

Maidens of the city advanced, carrying gourds of water.

“How refreshing,” Nakeer said as he sipped the liq-uid. “But I would also like to cleanse the dust of my journey before settling to eat. Perhaps you would ac-company me, Kasuf, while the others go ahead.”

Attended by Kasuf and Daniel, Nakeer turned away from the arranged welcome.

“There is a hall of bathing nearby,” Kasuf said.

“Forgive the subterfuge, Kasuf,” Nakeer said as they stepped within. “I wished to speak with you- away from the ears of that multitude.” The farmers’ leader stared as Daniel slipped back his hood, revealing his blond hair. “And this must be one of the Urt-men,” he said. “Earthmen,” Daniel corrected. “Earthman in the singular.” “Singular or plural, you’ve caused many changes on this world.” Nakeer’s voice was almost accusing.

“They helped us escape from slavery-and destroy Ra,” Kasuf protested. “And in doing so, they broke the bonds that had held our tribes together since our people were brought to Abydos,” Nakeer said.

“Always before, our people knew their roles. Now my people desert their fields. They come to Nagada, where they hear the streets are paved with these.”

He produced a Susan B. Anthony dollar from inside his robes and held it out. “These are ill things. They make my people mad. In the days of Ra, we provided supplies for Nagada because of the fear of the Horus guards. If discrepancies were found between harvest and what was sent, a settlement suffered.

Even so, we usually managed to hold aside a little of the best for ourselves.” Nakeer scowled, looking like the villain in a Foreign Legion movie. “Then the strangers came through the StarGate, offering these coins. Instead of supplying Nagada, the nearby farmers began selling all their crops and buying from the outlying communities. Then traders from Nagada came traveling, also bear-ing these coins. They bought up more crops. What we would have bartered or been forced to provide, we sold. There are towns where people are starving because they sold all their food-even their private supplies.” Pinning Kasuf with his eyes, Nakeer went on. “Yet with all this abundance of foodstuffs sold, our com-munities have received a flood of wanderers from Na-gada. These folks say they’re starving and have traveled to where food is to be found. Where are our crops going, Kasuf of Nagada?” “Your harvests have not been appearing in the Council granaries, that I know,” Kasuf said. “These traders you speak of-they’re trying to exploit the coinage our Earth friends brought to us. They come to your communes to seek cheap food to sell dearly in Nagada. They store the grain to keep your payments low and our prices high.”

He shrugged. “I argue with my fellow Elders, but for different reasons we cannot come to an agreement on what to do.”

Nakeer nodded grimly. “I have the same problems with my fellows. The Elders whose towns are getting fat from this trade won’t vote to regulate it. And I have no desire to impose a settlement by destroying those towns.” “The same holds true in Nagada,” Kasuf admitted. “I believe that our new lives of freedom call for new ways-like doing business with these coins. Yet I fear that the new ways will cause disagreements among the people and result in fighting.”

“We’ve been able to keep the peace in our places,” Nakeer said. “But not all those leaving the city have joined us in the fields. Some skulk in the dead lands and seize what they want. Caravans have been at-tacked in the desert for the food they carry.”

He turned to Daniel. “And some of those raiders were using the weapons of your people.”

“We can’t take the blame for that,” Daniel objected. There’s a battlefield full of lost weapons, which any-one could pick up.”

“But most of those weapons have gone to Nagada,” Nakeer said. “Skaara son of Kasuf has organized his own little army-“ “To fight for all of us who live on Abydos!” Kasuf flared. “Just as we battled against Ra and Hathor when they oppressed us. You yourself admit that the farmers were able to hold back something for them-selves. But every khar of crystal we dug up was earned with our blood. We were the target of the udajeets- our people died fighting the Horus guards.”

“A fine speech,” Nakeer retorted. “But there were many farmer folk conscripted to work in the mines.

They fought and died, too. And I will not have them die so that Nagada will dictate the future with guns and the aid of the Urt-Earthmen. We fought so that we would no longer be slaves of Ra. Nor will we be-come slaves of Nagada.”

Kasuf frowned. “I have no need of slaves. What is it you want, Nakeer?” “My folk need the new weapons. And we need to be able to speak with the strangers from the gate.” Na-keer’s voice was flat, outlining his bargaining position.

Kasuf’s face grew intent. “Skaara has talked about how his new recruits need training. If they were formed into guard contingents for your caravans-“ “He must also recruit from my people,” Nakeer said.

“We must also learn the Earthmen tongue- rather than picking up some few tattered words here and there.” “Since I run the English classes, I think I can speak for that,” Daniel said.

“Send us your best and bright-est-men and women. My best student is my wife.” Nakeer looked from the Earthman to his father-in-law. A slow smile came to his villainous-looking face. “These are things that we can agree on. And I think the others will agree, too.”

Maybe they never got out of the Bronze Age here, Daniel thought. But they still know that politics is the art of the possible.

He could hardly wait to see the next round of wheeling and dealing. Barbara Shore released a long-pent-up breath as she stepped out of the lens of energy that marked the Star-Gate’s farther terminus. It seemed as though the real-ization of traversing all that distance hit her all at once-or maybe it was the aftereffect of that wild, bumpy ride. Her legs abruptly didn’t seem to want to support the rest of her shapely form.

She tottered, and the young Marine lieutenant awaiting her stretched out an anxious hand. But Bar-bara evaded him, aiming for the strapping Marine gunnery sergeant at the lieutenant’s side.

“Sorry, darlin’,” Barbara said in a broad Texas drawl, “but if I gotta fall into somebody’s arms, I’m gonna pick the handsomest guy in the room.” Muffled laughter from the rest of the guard detail was cut off by a lethal look from the red-faced young officer. The poor gunny was red-faced, too, almost standing at attention as he supported the female astro-physicist. Barbara just grinned and snuggled as she got her balance back. The noncom’s response was one she’d encountered often enough. Even extremely competent men-athletes, scholars ... and a few Marines-somehow had their gears unmesh when they got an arm around her.

Barbara extricated herself from the man’s hold and took a couple of experimental steps. “Looks like I can make it by myself now, Gunny. But it was fun while it lasted.”

She patted the noncom’s behind, then turned to the young officer. “Where to, Loot? Do I dump my stuff at my quarters first, or does that wait until Colonel O’Neil gives me the final okay?”

“I’ve detailed a man to move your baggage, Dr. Shore,” the lieutenant said after clearing his throat only once. “The colonel is eager to see you.” “If you say so, sport,” Barbara replied as they set off down stone hallways still festooned with cables for temporary lighting. In the distance she heard the echo-ing racket of a gasoline generator.

You’re nervous, she told herself as they walked down a colonnaded corridor in what seemed to be a larger empty space. You always mouth off when you’re nervous, and that’s all you’ve done since you arrived in this crazy place. Six months ago, if someone had told her that she’d actually step through the StarGate and land on an alien world, Barbara would have dismissed the idea as sheer fantasy-not even science fiction. In those dark days the StarGate had been an enigmatic portal that had steadily resisted all their efforts to open. Then cute, somewhat flaky Dr. Daniel Jackson had come along and produced the key. The StarGate had actually worked! They’d sent a ro-bot probe through what looked like a rippling pond of light and received information from another planet! Colonel O’Neil and his boss, General West, had promptly wrapped the project in top secrecy and fired all the civilian workers. Barbara had spent months exiled from the missile silo that housed the StarGate. Then one day the general’s shadowy minions had con-tacted her, and here Barbara was on the other side of the interstellar portal.

It felt about as real as going to Oz.

But the young lieutenant had promised that she’d be going to see O’Neil, and that was all too real.

Barbara was torn. One side of her wanted to kick the military man’s ass for leaving her more unsatisfied than any male ever had. The other side was willing to kiss that same fundament if she could keep playing with the StarGate. They reached the end of a hewn-stone passageway, and Barbara could see light at the end of the tunnel. But the next stage of her trip took her through a golden-walled hall at least a block long. No, it wasn’t gold, Barbara realized; it was that same glassy golden-opalescent material that made up the StarGate. She could see corridors branching off from the one she was following. Barriers had been arranged across them, and young men in brownish outfits obviously stood guard. Equally obviously, they were not like the Marines at the StarGate. When they saw Barbara, they muttered among themselves in a language that sounded vaguely like Arabic but wasn’t.

Barbara stumbled out of step with her guide as the realization struck her like a blow. They hadn’t just found a planet out here. They’d found people! Then they were outside, and the heat of the two suns overhead settled over her like a dry but very heavy blanket. Barbara was wearing a sky blue jump-suit.

She liked the functionality of the garment. Be-sides, with a little tailoring it emphasized the lilt of her butt when she walked. But they had hardly gone a few steps before she was aware of sweat staining her armpits and back. “This is worse than a summer in the Panhandle,” she groused. “You could have given a gal some warn-ing about what the weather was like. Half of my wardrobe is going to be useless.”

“Oh, wait till you see the nights,” the young lieu-tenant told her. “Then it just about hits freezing.”

They made their way through the organized bedlam of a military camp. Barbara noticed that the uniformed personnel seemed to be digging themselves out of the results of a sandstorm. At last they came to a larger than usual tent. The lieutenant gestured her in.

Colonel Jack O’Neil sat behind a simple camp table. He gestured to the only other empty seat in the tent- a folding chair. “It’s very nice to see you again, Doctor.”

“Hell,” Barbara drawled, determined not to give an inch. “Here I thought I was the first woman through the StarGate. But it looks as though you brought your secretary ahead of me.”

O’Neil didn’t rise to the provocation. He simply introduced the two women. “Dr. Barbara Shore, meet Sha’uri, who is, of course, not my secretary. Sha’uri lives here on Abydos, and will be serving as the chief interpreter for your team.” He paused for a second, the only time Barbara had ever seen the man hesitate. “She was appointed to that post by her husband- Dr. Daniel Jackson.” “Really, now?” Barbara said, shaking hands. “You know, I had my eye on that little blond-haired honey once. But he seemed to have more of a thing for hiero-glyphics than women.”

Careful, now, Barbara warned herself. You’re taking out your bad attitude on this woman when you should be saving it for O’Neil. “So, Colonel,” she said, turning back to her main target, “I’m heading a team, am I? And what are we supposed to be doing? West’s people weren’t exactly forthcoming when they contacted me.”

“I’m told you didn’t seem to be involved in any other research,” O’Neil replied. “Funny how hard it is to get a job during funding cuts and the last place you worked was a hush-hush government project,”

Barbara said. “And it’s so much easier when you’re not allowed to talk about anything you did while you were under wraps. Not that I would. I could just imagine the reaction if I told an in-terviewer that the last thing I saw on my previous job was a glorified version of one of those robot mail carts disappearing in one hell of a light show. The only position that would qualify me for was a spot in the rubber ward.”