Rebellion (24 page)

Several of the would-be counterattackers were knocked out of the sky.

Others swung wide, hoping to come to the docking bays from a safer direction. And one unfortunate pilot, the body of his glider burning in hellish colors, swept over the ambush site at speed, trying to bring his dying bird into the sanctuary of the pyramid ship. "Hold your fire!"

Kawalsky ordered crisply. "I think that sucker will make more trouble for them inside than if we bring it down." The pilot must have been one of the better udajeet fliers. Despite the flames, the trailing smoke, and the wavering of his craft, he steered straight for one of the open bay doors. It was almost a perfect landing. Almost. At the very last second, just as the pilot was braking the glider, one wing dipped. The wingtip caught about a foot below the opening, and the

udajeet cartwheeled across the launching deck. It was as if the Earthlings had sent a killer rocket with a twenty-foot wingspan-and it had penetrated the ship's armor. A godawful explosion shuddered the entirety of the huge pyramid. A gout of flame vomited from the deck's open hatchway, along with pieces of udajeet silural. In its final throes their dying swan had taken along a couple of other gliders for company. "Down and cover your asses, men!" Kawalsky yelled. He himself jumped into the earthworks in case some of the burning wreckage tumbling down the front of the golden starship should come ricocheting this way.

But as he burrowed in the dirt, there was a smile on Adam Kawalsky's face. Death might come at any time today, in many ways. But Kawalsky would die happy. He'd made a promise to himself, and he'd kept it. He'd made the udajeets pay.

Not all the udajeets caught in the fusilade of Stinger missiles crashed and burned. Several pilots came down in landings that were hard for their craft but successful in that most personal of criteria-they survived. They staggered to the base of Ra's Eye, screaming into the communicators built into their Horus masks. Some were burned, some were bleeding. A few lucky, uninjured pilots had the presence of mind to take their blast-lances along. Not that their weapons would leave anything but scratches on the adamantine golden quartzose material that made up the hull. But at least they could protect themselves in the case of ground attack. Kawalsky had dug himself out again and was on the radio to O'Neil with the main body of troops below. "There are maybe a half-dozen pilots who managed to walk away after bringing their gliders down," he said. "They seem to be congregated at the front of the ship, around about the centerline. Around about where the entrance hall would be on the stone pyramid inside." "Are they trying to make some sort of stand?" O'Neil asked. "From the way they're banging on the wall with their spear butts," Kawalsky said, excitement quickening his voice, "I'd say they were expecting to be let in." "Kawalsky, we're coming with everything we can push up this slope." O'Neil's voice sounded pretty excited, too. "if they open a door up there, you do everything you can to keep it open till we arrive." In one of the lowest passages aboard Ra's Eye, a female crew-technician named Naila stared fearfully at the warrior confronting her. He had not activated his helmet mask, but his naked face, grim and coldly furious, frightened her more than any rendition of the Horus hawk. The man's eyes seemed almost as deadly as the tip of the blastlance he aimed at her. "The the lady captain, she has given orders that none of the ground-side hatches are to be opened,"

Naila said, faltering. The warrior's control slipped. "Ammit eat your soul! That's my brother out there! We were both taken into Ra's service-and we both pledged our fealty to Apis. That's who I swore my oath to, not some bitch who doesn't care about her own people!" He glared at Naila. "What about you? Did you swear fealty to Ptah or to bloody-handed Hathor? Think hard-because if you didn't swear yourself to her, you wouldn't want to die for her, would you?" The tip of the blast-lance poked painfully into

Naila's midriff. She stepped back, eyes wide, mouth dry. "Now open that door! I may not know how to operate it, but I know how to operate this." He gave her another painful prod. "Last warning," the warrior growled, tightening his grip on the trigger mechanism. Her face a grayish-pale color, Naila turned to the bank of photosensitive controls where the door would form. Her fingers stumbled for a second, and she had to start over. The second time around, however, the correct code was entered. The biomorphic system of the quartz-crystal shifted to a new lattice structure. And where a wall had once stood there was now a doorway. "It's happened! It's happened!" Kawalsky called into his radio. "A door has opened in the enemy ship!" He and his picked band burst from Firebase THREE, assault rifles at the ready. Most of the stranded pilots were too busy gaining entrance to the ship to pay attention to anything else. But a couple of the healthier escapees turned around, leveling their blast-lances. Bullets met energy-bolts, and fighters from both sides went down. "Don't let them close the damned door!" Kawalsky yelled to his men. One of them still carried a Stinger.

He primed the missile and sent it through the opening. Sparks and flame glittered in the interior. Kawalsky turned at the racket of a heavy internal-combustion engine behind him. One of his men had climbed aboard an abandoned bulldozer. "Let's see 'em close it with this stuck in the way," the Marine howled over the roar of the engine. Swinging jerkily around, the earthmover lurched toward the portal in the quartz.

The surviving Horus guards concentrated their fire on the advancing machine, but the Marine driver kept the bulldozer's blade interposed between himself and the guards' blast-bolts. The heavy-duty steel glowed and fused as flares of energy hit it, but nothing came through.

Ra's blastlances were designed more for man-killing than demolition work. The bulldozer hit the thin, tall doorway with a crash, slewing around as its blade caught on one side. The Marine who'd been controlling the machine jumped from the driver's seat as the defenders inside the pyramid ship finally got shots at him. judging from the choked screams inside, the earthmover had managed to nail someone against a wall. Kawalsky and his team swarmed over the bulldozer like monkeys-heavily armed monkeys-firing away. The defense melted. One or two blastlances were still in action against them, then one ... then none. When Kawalsky finally led the way inside the spaceship, however, he did find a single Horus guard. At least, he figured the man was a guard. He was sturdily built but had no hawk mask. Instead his face showed terror as he supported a pale-faced girl beside a panel of glowing lights. The man held up her hand to the panel, shouting at her, pleading with her, in a language that Kawalsky didn't understand. But it didn't matter what he said, unless this ship was equipped with one of those magic coffins Daniel Jackson had mentioned. The girl was quite obviously dead. Hathor was still reeling from the enormity of their losses in the air war when news of the latest disaster came in. Barely twenty-five percent of her udajeets had survived after the Earthlings'

ambush. The air forces she'd tried to conserve with her call-back order had been slashed in half again within sight of safety. Not only that, but the better part of one of the pyramid's upper decks had been devastated thanks to the crashing glider. Control circuitry had been damaged, and her technicians weren't even sure they'd be able to get the cover panels to seal off the launching bays. She shuddered. If that happened, it would mean cruising space with an entire deck open to vacuum. The bridge, higher up toward the apex of the pyramid, would be effectively cut off from the rest of the ship. Then had come the news that they had another problem with openings in the ship. "Lady Captain,"

one of the scanner crew reported in a tight, frightened voice, "we have a hull breach at ground level." "What?!" Hathor's voice was deadly as she questioned the unfortunate technician. "How could that be? The invaders haven't the weapons to tear holes in our hull. And anything that could damage us so badly would have been felt." Unless, she thought, the udajeet crash was merely a cover for some sort of mine operation. She pushed that thought aside. Who could plan for an accidental crash like that? The scanner technician's voice became more choked. "The breach wasn't caused by action from without, Lady Captain.

It appears the main portal was opened-" "I gave orders that all ground-side apertures were to remain closed." Hathor's voice was quiet but charged with fury. "Who was down there to open the portal?" "Naila, one of the damage-control crew, was checking some circuits down on the lowest levels." The technician drew a deep breath. "There were surviving udajeet pilots outside-" "I'm aware of that," Hathor said coldly. "But I'm also aware that an open portal is like an open invitation to the scum down on the sands to come and make a try for the StarGate. Have you been able to seal the portal?" Sweat beads appeared on the technician's upper lip. "We've been attempting, Lady Captain, but there appears to be something caught in the opening-something substantial." "You're saying the portal is blocked?" Hathor demanded.

"Have you checked for boarders?" As she watched the results of the technician's scan, both of them went pale. Hathor activated the communicator. "All warriors," she said. "This includes all udajeet pilots. Collect small arms and prepare to repel boarders. I repeat, repel boarders. Boarders detected in lowest level of the ship. StarGate guards, retain your positions. Beware of possible attacks." At the same moment the external scan technician called out, "Lady Captain, the enemy forces at the base of the plateau-they're climbing up." Hathor swung around to the tactical display. If that mass of manpower got aboard, her available foot soldiers would not be able to handle them. "Gunnery!"

she called in desperation. "Secondary batteries, full depression.

Continuous fire." "Lady Captain," a thin, precise voice returned over the communications link, "our calculations showed that we could not target the enemy host." "I want interdiction fire," Hathor said. "Your salvos should come close enough to the lip of the ridge to discourage that rabble from climbing up here." I hope, she said in her heart.

"Secondary batteries, firing," her gunnery officer replied. Streaks of light appeared on the tactical display, indicating where the batteries had fired. But the coverage was weak, spotty, as if only half the available blasters were firing. "Gunn-" she began, but the precise voice of Thoth's former servant was already reporting. "Lady Captain," the gunnery officer said, "it appears our fire-control circuitry is defective. All batteries above Launching Deck Four are not responding."

Launching Deck Four-where the udajeet had crashed. "Damage Control, switch to backup circuits," Hathor barked. "Lady Captain," a fearful voice came over the communicator, "there is no backup. In the press of refitting-" In the press of refitting, Ptah thought he'd have me one last time-in a metaphorical sense. The look on Hathor's face made several of her crew members flinch. "Damage Control, see if you can repair the damaged fire-control circuits. Gunnery, you'll have to cover twice as much space with half as many guns." Hathor was torn between a wish to retch and a desire to smash something-anything. But she could do neither. As captain of the ship, she was stuck on the bridge. Ah, Ptah, she thought, if-when-I get back, I will deal with you personally, painfully, and for a long, long time. Here and there discharges of energy tore at the ridgeline that marked the stony plateau's descent into the sands below. For the most part, however, the huge battlecraft's blaster batteries could not aim at a steep enough angle to interdict the ways up-or even reach them. Still, the pyrotechnic effect was enough to quell even the most ardent spirits, much less men whose units had already been drubbed and shattered. O'Neil came up with a force of volunteers-a large smattering of Skaara's boy militia, stiffened with Marines. Daniel Jackson accompanied him, as did Sha'uri.

As they reached the top of the plateau, the very air seemed ionized.

Ozone tore at O'Neil's nose. He walked across the dead zone in the ship's killing field to a portal blocked open by a still running bulldozer. One of the Marines ran up to turn the machine off. Then they were inside the spaceship. The walls were of the same golden quartz, but it seemed rougher in texture, dull. "I think we've found ourselves down in steerage class," Daniel said. "The decor was so much nicer in Ra's flying palace." "Of course," O'Neil replied, "we never saw the engine room down there, either. I can tell you for sure the dungeons were on the unpleasant side." A sand-colored figure stepped out from against one of the rough walls. "I'm on your side," Kawalsky said.

"What's the situation, Lieutenant?" O'Neil asked. "We've made a quick reconnaissance against growing resistance," Kawalsky reported. "This main hall leads straight to the entrance hall for the StarGate, but there's a good-sized force of Horus guards dug in there. We've also discovered access to the next level up. As for the rest of this deck, it's cut up like a maze. And the other side knows the ground better than we do. The guards don't seem to be making direct assaults.

Instead, some try to deny access to certain areas, while infiltrating behind us to ambush small grouPs. "Let's see what we can see," O'Neil decided. The assault party nosed its way down the main hall, checking every side corridor. Daniel hung behind when he saw a plate inscribed with hieroglyphyics seemingly set into a wall. Sha'uri stayed with him, as did a pair of Skaara's militia boys. "I barely understand a word of this," Sha'uri said. "That's because these are some kind of techtalk hieroglyphics," Daniel finally concluded. "It appears to be instructions for electrical circuitry supposedly inside the wall-" His scholarly disquisition abruptly ended with the sound of a death rattle from behind. Husband and wife turned to find one of their erstwhile guards already dead, the other expiring in the death grip of a Horus guard. Sha'uri whipped out her pistol. The guard dropped the murdered boy and whipped up his blast-lance. It had all happened to Daniel before. Sha'uri had tried to defend him with her gun; the Horus guard had blasted her. But here there was no sarcophagus of quick healing. Or if there was, Daniel had no idea where it was. He launched himself into a wild tackle, smashing the lance aside. Energy gouted out in a wild shot, and the echoing blast of the pistol filled Daniel's ears. He was going down, knocking the Horus guard to the floor. Daniel wrenched the blast-lance free. There was no resistance. As Daniel rose, he saw why.