Rebellion (23 page)

The canvas cover had been removed from the cargo area, and a third man stood braced, scanning the sky, a rocket tube in his hands. He wore the gray camouflage fatigues of UMC's mining police. "Follow the instructions on the tube, and don't waste your shots," the driver admonished. "Head for the plateau, but don't go for the camp. Colonel O'Neil is trying to reorganize us at the foot of the rise." "Colonel O'Neil?" Eakins knew the Marine Colonel was supposed to be the second-in-command of the Abydos Expeditionary Force. "Last we heard, he was inside Nagada." Eakins had refused to follow the Earthling practice of calling the city Abbadabbaville. The Marine driver nodded. "Folks in there let him out, and are sending help, too." Eakins looked surprised.

"The guys we were supposed to fight?" The Marine shrugged. "Hey, they hate the people inside that pyramid more than they hate umc." The case of missiles thumped to the sand. One of the loaders tossed down a crowbar. Eager soldiers broke the box open and began distributing the contents among the members of the squad. "Good hunting," the Marine said as his men retrieved the crowbar. "Reports from First Base say there are a good fifty udajeets-that's what the locals call those glider things-flying search-and-destroy on all vehicles." He glanced at the tank pulled up in the shadow of a dune. "It's not healthy to hang around armor right now." Eakins patted the olive-drab tube in his hands.

"Maybe. Or maybe we can make it unhealthy for any flying buzz-bomb to mess with them." He smiled, a harsh, tight grin. "You tell your Colonel O'Neil we'll be coming in. Eakins hefted the Stinger missile again. "And we'll be loaded for bear." Moving at the pace of a marching man didn't give them a whole lot of speed-especially since every good dune they found, they'd stopped in, and play "Little Lost Tank and the Troopers with Teeth." After their third kill, however, Eakins said, "We've got to be close to First Base by now." They crested the next rise to spot UMC's mining road-and farther out, Eakins saw the eroded rock of the plateau rising out of the sands. Topping that was the bulk of the hostile spaceship, gleaming in the sun where the StarGate pyramid had been. "So that's where they went," the tank commander said grimly. "And there's where we want to be," Eakins said, pointing to activity on the sands almost at the base of the ridge of rock, almost directly below where the ship had landed. "Damn it, but I think this Colonel O'Neil wants to try a counterattack," Eakins said. The pyramid ship had made him run; its unearthly blasts and its udajeets had made him scared. For the chance to get back at them, Ollie Eakins would cheerfully march across hot sand and a dangerous road. Besides, he wanted to see if any other of the scratch outfits developing on this battlefield had done better than blowing away THREE udajeets. After a brief consultation, the leaders of the war band decided on a straight rush down the dune, across the road, skirting the burned-out wreckage of yet another dead APC, then up to the crest of the next tall dune they could find. By then they should at least be in visual contact with O'Neil's force. The foot soldiers broke into a trot, pounding down the face of the dune, then out onto the road.

With a clank of gears, the tank followed. They were out in the open, completely naked, when one of the infantrymen stared up into the sky and cried, "Udajeet!" Eakins whirled, trying to unship the missile tube he carried. Other men were doing the same, fumbling their weapons into firing position. The udajeet slashed down at them from out of the sky.

Then, from the top of the dune they were aiming for, came a blast of energy and a rush of a missile. Both struck the oncoming glider, which flipped in midair, skimmed the dune that Eakins and company had just vacated, then crashed and exploded in the sands beyond. Incredulous soldiers stared as boys in Abydan homespun waved them on. More of the young men dashed across the sands, apparently going to investigate the crash site. "You're inside the defense perimeter," the kid who'd waved said in careful English. "Why are you going to check the crash?" Eakins asked. The young militiaman waved a spear-like weapon. Eakins realized that it must be a less powerful version of the blaster-nacelles on the gliders. "Many of the pilots carry these," he said. With a smile the young man glanced at the tank churning its way up the hill. "But I think Colonel O'Neil will be very glad to see your weapons, too." On the bridge of Ra's Eye, Hathor scowled at the tactical display. Yet another of the far-ranging red sparks representing her udajeets had disappeared.

"The invaders were dying like ants under our feet," she muttered, glaring at the shifting troop distributions. "How could they so suddenly be smashing our gliders from the skies?" "Lady Captain, our pilots report that the groundlings are firing some sort of rocket-weapons," one of the bridge crew said. "Our pilots have supremely maneuverable, extremely fast aircraft," Hathor snapped. "Surely they can stay out of the way of a few primitive rockets!" "The enemy targets them as they come in on blaster runs," the crewman said. "Then our people should attack at higher altitudes instead of dropping on top of their targets and into the sights of these rocket-weapons." The crewman paused. "Lady Captain," he said, our pilots are not used-" "The fools aren't used to dealing with any opponents who might shoot back!" Hathor cut him off in a rage. "What they are used to is flying low over fellahin, scaring the ka out of them, and herding them for their masters." Hathor's fists were clenched so tightly, her short nails were tearing holes in her palms. If she just had a few of her veterans from the Ombos campaign! They'd flown against more sophisticated weapons than these, and defeated the warriors who carried them. She grimaced.

But that training, that skill-those numbers-had been dust for eight thousand years. Now the Cat had to fight this battle with the resources she had available. She turned in concern to the hologram again. "How many of our udajeets are still in action?" she asked. "Lady Captain-"

This time the unwilling answer came from one of the scanner operators.

"From our reports and scans, I'd estimate we've lost fifty percent of our air forces." "Half of our udajeets?" Hathor said in shock. She'd allowed herself to be distracted by the fighting at the StarGates-both here and on Earth. The thrust to the homeworld of the invaders had been an overreaching move, she had to admit to herself. She'd hoped for more information about this planet of wild fellahin, but it seemed that those studying the StarGate had consigned it to a hole deep within the ground.

In the end she'd recalled her attack force, and was appalled at the losses they'd taken on their reconnaissance. If not for the fact that the Horus guards who'd searched the rest of the pyramid were available as a reserve, they might not have been able to destroy the counterthrust that arrived from Earth. Even so, the losses to her scanty ground forces merely underscored her problems. Hathor lacked the strength in Warriors even to sweep the plateau free of invaders. And the enemy was taking advantage of that weakness. She looked long and hard at the steadily coalessing collection of green sparks at the foot of the docking plateau. The rocky cliff protected them from direct observation, and as she'd already discovered, the weapons of the secondary batteries could not be depressed far enough to bring them into their field of fire. But what could whoever was assembling these forces hope to accomplish? Ra's Eye was invulnerable to attacks mounted with such weapons as they might have. They might as easily hope for a sandstorm to help wear the battlecraft's quartz armor away. The situation was degenerating into a stalemate. The Earthlings' primitive arsenal precluded the expectation of serious attack. But Hathor could STRIKE at the invaders only by exposing the udajeets to primitive weapons which had proven surprisingly effective. Of course, she could recall her gliders, button up, and leave the invaders to their own devices. She had cut their communications with Earth by seizing the StarGate. But if those on Earth were willing to accept the high casualties resulting from a really determined push, they might recapture the Abydos side of the gate and discover just how weak Hathor was when it came to manpower. Also, her hopes of inflicting a blockade on the enemy had dimmed as she'd digested the reports of a large force of infantry joining the invaders. Udajeet pilots had also reported that Nagada seemed to be in the midst of an evacuation. The invaders wouldn't starve if the locals could feed them. That meant camping over the StarGate until the Earthlings' machinery gave out-too long a wait, given the volatile situation on Tuat and the fief worlds.

Hathor had to get back quickly with the definitive news that Ra was dead. Unhappily, she contemplated the possibility of leaving Abydos but keeping the planet out of the Earthlings' hands. She could lift off, arm the main battery, and turn that weaponry loose on the plateau. The very heavy blasters could slag the pyramid and destroy the StarGate.

With luck, the main battery salvos would even encompass the destruction of that worrisome force at the base of the plateau. Hathor could then return to establish herself over the rival godlings on Tuat, and then, at some unspecified time, deploy sufficient force to bring Abydos to heel. With Abydos quelled, there would then be time to restore StarGate communications. Then it would be Earth's turn. A possible scenario, but very ... extreme. Too many variables arose. Could Ptah and the technicians available today restore an entire StarGate connection? From the work she'd seen on the refitting of Ra's Eye, the answer to that question was dubious at best. How long could she devote to establishing her position as empress? THREE months hadn't been enough to ensure her leadership asRa's regent. Let the fellahin of Abydos live wild for too long, and she'd be forced to exterminate the population of the whole planet. Hathor forced her hands to relax, considering with dismay the bloody half moons created by her fingernails digging into the flesh. She had not come up with a solution to her problems. She'd needed time to think, to seek other options. Before that, however ... Hathor turned to her bridge crew. "Recall the udajeets," she ordered. Adam Kawalsky and a picked company of Marines lay low in the dug-in emplacements of Firebase THREE, waiting for a target worth shooting at. He and Colonel O'Neil had both suspected that the firebase and the edge of the plateau were safe from the flying pyramid's energy weapons. From their examination of both the spear-blasters and the blast-cannon, they saw that a barrel was necessary for these weapons. Such a requirement would doubtless apply to the heavier weapons aboard the ship from Ra's empire.

But the very shape of the battlecraft, with its receding walls, would argue against the ability to direct fire to the very foot of the pyramid. That was almost where Firebase THREE was. Then, too, both Kawalsky and O'Neil remembered how the udajeets had been handled during their first battle against a spaceship. The attack gliders had not operated independently, but had docked on the mother ship. Sooner or later, they believed, the same would happen with this heavier flight of gliders. When they returned, they would be Kawalsky's target of opportunity. Till then Kawalsky and his chosen few remained hidden beneath sand, camouflage netting, and broiling heat, waiting.

"Lieutenant," Feretti asked, "you think they'll come back by evening? I mean, you wouldn't think it would do much good, trying to chase people in the dark." "Feretti, I have no idea what will happen by evening,"

Kawalsky admitted. "Although I do hope it gets a little cooler around here." He wiped sweat off his face and took a sip of tepid water from his canteen. Even the plastic his lips touched seemed warmed by the sun. "I'm not saying I want them to come by night," Feretti quickly said. "That would just make our job harder, right, Sir? No, I wish they would come sooner instead of later. To tell you the truth, Sir, I got a problem with waiting for things." Kawalsky hid a grin. "Really, Corporal? You couldn't tell it by talking to you." "Well, Sir, you know, I try not to advertise," Feretti went on, completely unaware of the officer's "But if it's a case of sooner or later" sarcasm. later-"

His monologue was interrupted by a series of shots into the air from the dune crests that marked the outer perimeter of O'Neil's force. "That's from Skaara's boys, warning us that the udajeets are incoming," Feretti said. "Right," Kawalsky replied laconically. "Looks like you get your wish, Corporal-sooner rather than later." In moments the flight of udajeets came close enough that the hidden men could see its approach.

The gliders moved in a large, ragged formation, as if the pilots were unused to flying together-or too many wingmen had been shot down. To Kawalsky they looked like a big, sloppy flock of homing pigeons returning to their coops instead of the hawk-like killing machines they'd been earlier this morning. There was something tentative, nervous about their flying. The lieutenant realized they were keeping a much higher altitude, trying to stay above Stinger range. His usually good-natured face took on a wolfish cast as he grinned. They'd have to come down close if they wanted to dock. On his first visit to Abydos, Kawalsky had been forced to endure repeated aerial attacks from udajeets while trapped outside the StarGate pyramid. Half of Skaara's friends, the original boy commandos, had died in that slaughter. Kawalsky had promised himself that would never happen to troops under his command again. Now he was going to make that promise stick. The udajeets smoothly lost altitude, aiming for the starship's open launch decks.

Kawalsky's people were aiming, too. He'd carefully detailed sections of the ambush party. Some would go for the vanguard, others for the wings.

Kawalsky himself was aiming dead center. Stepping into the open, he tracked his first target with his missile tube, moved slightly ahead, and ... "Fire!" he shouted, triggering his own missile. Stingers slashed up into the bellies of the docking craft, wreaking havoc among the unsuspecting pilots. Wings blew off, bodies went flying, gliders crashed into each other as they attempted to peel out of formation.

Kawalsky calmly picked up his second tube and aimed. Above, some of the glider pilots attempted to maintain their vectors and land. Those were probably the wise ones-wise to get out of the way. Other udajeet pilots, stung by the attack, went into wide, banking turns to overfly the ambush site and return fire. Instead, they ran into a virtual hedgehog of missile fire from the troops concentrated at the base of the plateau.