Dr. Terrance Destin couldn't explain what had brought Kasuf out of his coma. "I'd like to say it was one of those miracles of modern medicine, but I don't know where the credit goes." He nodded at Daniel. "Perhaps it was Mr. Jackson's voice—the voice of the man accused of attacking him." The doctor shrugged. "Or maybe he was just ready to reenter the world again."
At any rate, Skaara agreed that Sha'uri ought to hear what their father had to say.
Daniel stood on one of the watchtowers, staring out into the night, when he became aware of a presence behind him.
"So," Sha'uri finally said in Abydan, "you're not a political traitor."
"No," Daniel said, not trusting himself to turn. "Just a fool who didn't know when he was well off." He took a deep breath. "Nothing happened between her and me. I won't kid you and say it was impossible. She nearly did seduce me—she just found something she wanted more."
"Ah," Sha'uri said with heavy sarcasm. "And now that you've come through your ordeal, you've returned, so things can go on as before."
Daniel shook his head. "I've come to tell you that nothing is as it was before. Your city is burning down, the Horus guards hold the mine—and a bunch of your people, Skaara tells me. That thing out there—"
"Thank you, I've heard enough." Behind him, he heard Sha'uri turning away.
Daniel felt a stab of anger. He whirled, catching Sha'uri by the arm. "Listen," he said, "I love you, dammit. I want to make what was between us good again. But I don't have the time. That thing out there has the power to reduce Nagada to a smear in the landscape. Look at it. Look at it!"
He dragged her to the parapet. They watched for a long moment as gouts of energy poured from the Boat of a Million Years, pounding the Marine positions. "Those are brave men out there. But they have nothing that can withstand those bolts. All too soon they'll be driven into the StarGate. Then Hathor will control the gate, and no one will be able to get off Abydos."
"Then go," Sha'uri said roughly.
"No," Daniel said. "I want you to go. You've been marked for death because of the rebellion—you and Skaara, Kasuf, and many others. Skaara and I are willing to fight. But the ones who escape will need a leader, too. The people trust you. They'll follow you."
"And you think that we'll be welcome on your wonderful world?"
Daniel didn't answer for a second. Then he finally said, "I think Jack O'Neil is an honorable man. And I don't think your people should die because you're angry at me."
He let Sha'uri go. "Hate me if you want. But I hope to save your life—and as many lives as possible."
The dull rumble of Hathor's blast-bolt attacks continued through the night, like unending thunder without the promise of rain. Sha'uri had roused the refugees and explained the situation to them. Those willing to leave were even now assembling their scanty belongings.
A worried-looking Dr. Destin had approved Kasuf for travel and had even agreed to accompany him on a mastadge-drawn litter.
When Sha'uri saw her brother, she discovered that he, too, had been making preparations. He carried a blast-lance and stood among a knot of runners. "When Hathor sees your people, she might think we're coming to aid Colonel O'Neil. We need to create a diversion, and Daniel has suggested a good one. We're going to attack the mine."
"You're going to attack—with that thing up there?" Sha'uri demanded, her eyes going to the Boat of a Million Years. "That's hopeless!"
Skaara looked at her calmly. "Not if it draws off Hathor and your people escape. For some reason Cat-head Hathor has the prisoners digging up the quartz. If it's so important to her, she'll have to deal with us."
"Kill you, you mean," Sha'uri said bitterly.
Skaara shrugged, not arguing with her. "I've sent messages to some of our old comrades. We'll need every fighting man we can field for this attack. A number are joining us. They'd rather end fighting the Horuses than one another."
He hesitated for a moment, then said, "We sally forth within the hour. Daniel goes with us."
When Sha'uri didn't speak, her brother merely nodded. "No need to wish us luck."
From the berm surrounding the base camp, Colonel Jack O'Neil watched the line snaking through the company streets and into the golden pyramid of the cruiser Ra's Eye. Slowly, group by group, the line advanced as those at the head transited through the StarGate. The men shuffling forward were often wounded, always tired. And every man who managed to escape meant that much more contraction on the part of the colonel's defense line.
O'Neil shuddered as another torrent of energy lashed down from the bulk overshadowing them, illuminating the whole battlefield for a moment. The men just in from the perimeter flinched at the sudden radiance. O'Neil understood. They'd been the targets out there.
The colonel focused his binoculars on the point of impact. Hathor's big guns had scored another near miss as an infantry company executed a quick retreat. Another stretch of desert property large enough to accommodate a tract house had been transformed into a pit of fused greenish-brown glass.
While his Marine's soul hated every step of this retreat, O'Neil was glad that the men had lived to get away.
At least for this blast.
Standing at his side, Lieutenant Adam Kawalsky seemed to pick up O'Neil's thoughts. The lieutenant had an interest in military history, especially that of the Corps. Not surprisingly, he used a historical perspective. "I was too young for Vietnam. But now I know how it must have felt for the men pinned down in Khe Sanh."
"Or the Alamo," contributed Feretti. The other remaining survivor of the first Abydos incursion had a rather fractured sense of history.
"Not a good comparison," O'Neil reproved. "The troops there didn't survive."
"Besides," Kawalsky pointed out, "they weren't Marines."
"Yeah." Feretti nodded, scanning the battlefield with his glasses. "That's probably why the poor bastards lost."
O'Neil cast a glance overhead. Too much time had passed since the last gift from the heavens. Why wasn't Hathor blasting them?
Astonishingly, new starfields disappeared in the sky overhead. The Boat of a Million Years was shifting position. O'Neil followed its progress tensely. Was this the start of a flank attack? Was Hathor pulling back in hopes of blasting his forward echelons more freely— without threatening the StarGate?
No—the vast bulk in the sky was pulling too far away.
"Where the hell is Hathor going?" he growled, staring upward.
"Sir, I'd say that thing was heading back to the mines," Kawalsky said.
"And, sir, we've got a column coming at us," Feretti suddenly reported. "It's coming from the direction of Nagada, but they're not using the road."
O'Neil quickly wheeled and aimed his binoculars. Although Nagada was not directly in sight, it was easy to zero in on its position. He just had to aim for the reddish pillar of fire in the distance.
A quick scan thorough his night glasses revealed a large infrared concentration coming their way. O'Neil frowned, trying to make some sense of what he was seeing.
The Horus guards had been getting a bit bolder under the aegis of their pyramid in the sky, patrolling aggressively and keeping the pressure on O'Neil's withdrawing troops. But for the most part the Horuses hadn't been attacking. They'd restricted their thrusts to picking off stragglers and overrunning positions that had already been thoroughly blasted by the Boat of a Million Years.
Frankly, O'Neil didn't think the Horuses had the stomach for a full-scale assault. So why were they advancing without the cover of their monstrous air support? Somehow, he'd never think of Hathor as a commander very worried about killing her own people with friendly fire.
The colonel raised his binoculars again, trying to get some idea of the enemy's intentions. Should he commit what was left of his artillery in the hopes of dampening the Horuses' resolve? Or was this a feint to make him reveal his gun positions for a bunch of blast-bolts from on high?
O'Neil was about to order the battery fire when he looked hard into his field glasses. Something was wrong—then it struck him. The figures advancing were too covered up. Infrared showed exposed skin. Clad only in pectoral necklaces and kilts, the Horus guards showed plenty of that. But their battle-masks cut off their heads.
The infrared image O'Neil was getting showed hands and faces. Either it was an elaborate charade, or...
"Get a patrol out there," he abruptly ordered his radioman.
"Sir?" Feretti said uncertainly.
"I don't think that's an attack," the colonel amplified. "I think they may be friendlies."
In minutes, he was getting the report from a corporal out in the field. "It's a refugee column from Nagada, sir, led by somebody named Sha'uri. She's talking in English, asking you for passage to Earth."
O'Neil watched the long, ragged collection of people toiling their way across the sands. Of course Sha'uri would have avoided the road. It led to the mines, which were in enemy hands. And between the fires and the Horus guards, there probably was only one safe destination around for the small portion of the Abydan population in her care.
"Sir?" the radioman asked. "Corporal Sanders wants to know if he should try to turn them back."
O'Neil straightened. "Hell, no," he said abruptly, turning to his history-minded aide. "We might be bugging out of here like we did in Vietnam. But no way are we leaving the people who sided with us hanging in the wind.'"
"Get the motor pool. I want everything we have with wheels ready to move—immediately."
He was about to cause one hell of a logistical problem, but that would be Felton's headache.
All O'Neil had to do was maintain security while everybody got away.
Daniel Jackson aimed his blast-lance and burned a hole through a Horus guard's pectoral necklace. In spite of being in the biggest fight of his life, Daniel felt queerly at peace.
Sha'uri had rejected him, and he was in the forefront of a suicide attack. He couldn't exactly say that all was well with the world. Perhaps it was just that the world seemed well lost.
Skaara had led the advance on the most obvious route, the old mining road from Nagada. Incredibly, they hadn't encountered any Horuses until they rounded the switchback that led down into the ravine of the mines themselves.
Daniel and the contingent of Abydan blast-lancers he'd joined charged, weapons flaring. The Horus guards dropped their quirts and unlimbered their weapons, but they were overwhelmed in a moment. Following the momentum, the militiamen charged downhill until they encountered another knot of men in the darkness, this one larger. Daniel himself had aimed his lance, poised to fire, when he yelled in Abydan. "No! No! Hold your fire! These are friends."
They faced a bedraggled collection of prisoners, both Abydan and Earthling, pressed into mining duties. White dust clung to robes and BDUs alike.
One of the Abydans stood with tears in his eyes. "When the others told the hawk-heads how things fared in the city, the Horuses said that none would dare come out to rescue us."
"Well, it looks like they were wrong," Daniel said. He moved along to the American contingent asking in English, "Anybody in charge here?"
"I guess I am—just barely," a weak voice replied.
Daniel had to look hard for a moment at the battered face before he recognized Lieutenant Charlton. "You came along at a good time. The guys were covering for me—"
"Man who can't do his work gets killed," one of the Marine ex-captives explained. "The bastards made that pretty clear."
"But our friends in the funny hats didn't like the fact that the men were looking out for me, and decided to make an example of us," Charlton went on. "I think they were going to toss us off the top of the mine."
"Okay," Daniel said. "Everybody in favor of making them pay—raise your hands."
By now Skaara and the main body had joined them. Anyone with weapons to spare shared them out. The blast-lances recovered from the defunct Horus guards were also distributed; then the enlarged force continued downward.
The Horus guards were actually pretty thin on the ground for the number of prisoners they were overseeing.
But when hope raised its ugly head...
In the forefront of the fighting, Daniel several times saw Horuses suddenly drop in their positions with a pickax through the back, or being battered to the ground by men wielding shovels. He also saw the sickening spectacle of work gangs being blasted down just seconds before they could be freed. In some cases he saw men walk into the blast-bolts so their buddies could take down the guards with their bare hands.
From the floor of the valley came a labored whistling sound. It took Daniel a moment to recognize—until he connected it with the shape rising into the air. The twittering was the sound of an udajeet with overloaded engines. The antigravity glider must have been heavily laden with quartzite ore, because it literally wallowed in the air as it spun to turn its guns on the upper mine galleries.
Daniel aimed his blast-lance at the cockpit, sending bolt after bolt before the pilot could fire on the advancing tide of troops. His fire was quickly joined by others. In seconds the udajeet was wheeling helplessly downward to crash and explode. Two more udajeets rose, not bothering to attack. They just wanted to escape. Neither passed the gauntlet of the mine terraces.
Men came climbing up from the lower levels. The Horuses down there had been overrun. Judging from the blast-bolts, the only resistance remaining was on the far lip of the mine, in what remained of the Earthlings' prepared defenses.
Daniel began climbing again, aiming to come around on the flank of the Horuses positions. Even as he joined the battle, he saw squads of masked guardsmen rushing across the dunes to reinforce their brothers. The forces were locking in the deadly embrace of hand-to-hand combat when the sky went dark overhead. Then a lash of unfettered energy fell on the combatants.
Rebels, Earthmen, and Horuses alike were blasted. Daniel found himself knocked flat on the rocky lip of the ravine. Just a little bit farther, and his troubles would have been over.
The two sides recoiled apart at the almost godlike scourging. Daniel raised his voice over the terror-stricken cries. "Don't fall back!" he cried in English and Abydan. "It just gives Hathor a free target! Keep after the Horuses! She can't keep blasting her own men!"
Skaara joined him, and together they managed to get the attack moving forward again.
Daniel didn't know how they succeeded. It was like advancing into an incinerator. It was the former prisoners who turned the tide, swelling the front lines, ignoring Hathor's gigantic energy flail in their intentness to settle scores with the Horuses.
Then the Boat of a Million Years was turning away from them, stabbing gouts of energy down into the desert.
What the hell could be out there?
But Daniel didn't have time to wonder. A Horus guard, his blast-lance shattered in half, leapt from behind some rocks and tried to club Daniel down. The guy was too close for Daniel to shorten the grip on his own lance and blast him. So he swung the shaft of his weapon crosswise across his chest and tried to parry the guardsman's blow.
Things didn't work out the way they usually did in Robin Hood movies. The shock nearly tore the blast-lance from Daniel's hands. The Horus rammed into Daniel, taking them both to the ground.
Daniel's blast-lance was still across his chest, held there by the weight of the guardsman, who was trying to strangle him. Hands like steel clamps tightened around his throat as he tried uselessly to push the masked figure back.
So this is it, Daniel thought, faintly wondering as his view turned red, then black at the edges.
Then there was a searing flash across his eyes and a loud explosion in his right ear. The Horus flopped ingloriously off him.
And Jack O'Neil was helping Daniel to his feet, a 9mm Beretta pistol in his hand.
"Thought you could use a little help there, on the way to your ride."
"R—ride?" Daniel slurred, staring around. The only Horus guards he saw were busy running for their lives. Everyone else was piling into a wild assortment of vehicles before the Boat of a Million Years managed to blast them all.
"Yes. We've already picked up Sha'uri and her refugee column. She told us about this diversionary attack you talked Skaara into. Of all the stupid—"
"It let Sha'uri get away. I'm not such a Delta Foxtrot Bravo," Daniel said. Going into battle without the annoyance of having to survive had been a bizarre comfort for him. But now, having to deal with hope— he hung back as O'Neil led the way to a waiting Humvee.
The Marine turned back, frowning at him. "What the hell are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?"
He grabbed Daniel and hauled him along, tossing him into the vehicle's rear compartment, already full of fugitives.
Their jouncing trip across the dunes was indescribable, combining all the worst aspects of a StarGate transit with the ill effects of being jostled by elbows and kicked by combat boots, with the attendant smells of unwashed humanity. The driver was apparently attempting to outrun the pursuing starship while selecting the most spectacular bumps and rough spots as he leapt and dodged among the dunes.
But, of course, the Boat of a Million Years couldn't be outrun. In fact, it always seemed to be right over them, blasting something in their near vicinity.
And then there were those pesky collections of Horus guards they kept driving through.
At one point Daniel found himself having a conversation with Jack O'Neil's knees. The colonel had taken the gunner's position on the mounted M240 machine gun. He hosed bullets at everything that moved at the rate of two hundred rounds per minute.
"Sorry about the bumpy ride," O'Neil said, squeezing off a burst at something outside. "We're not just racing Hathor, but her whole army. It'll be tight, getting back to our perimeter before it's overrun."
They came bombing through the open and blasted gates of the camp and swerved with wild abandon through empty streets. The shimmering skin of the grounded spaceship Ra's Eye grew closer. Then Daniel got a glance of Horus guards—lots of them—and O'Neil's machine gun began thumping again.
The rescue convoy returned just in time to save another group of troops—the Marine defenders drawn up in front of the entrance to the ship—and the StarGate.
"Come on, Jackson," he heard the colonel say. "Last stop."
Scowling in frustration, technician Sam Gomfrey glanced from his watch to the fire-control relay he was supposed to be removing. Time was running out. The research team was already supposed to be downstairs. He'd wind up personally carrying this sucker through the StarGate. It wasn't his fault that a faulty diagram had left him searching in completely the wrong conduit.
Lateness was why Gomfrey did something that normally would have horrified his tidy technician's soul. He chose a shortcut.
Instead of going for his tools, he unlimbered the blast-lance he'd taken away from a dead invading Horus guard and kept triggering it until he'd sliced the control node free of the wall. As he slashed away, his weapon's heat and energy discharge caused other circuits in the conduit to curl and twist as though they were live things trying to get away.
Gomfrey finished his cutting job, swearing as he burned his fingers picking up the cannibalized circuit. He glanced at the irregular outline he'd cut in the wall, at the writhing circuits, and shrugged.
"Close enough for government work," he said.
In conduit Sb-26, the circuits shocked by Gomfrey's rough blaster work cycled through their various biomorphic shapes. One of them, a balky multipurpose unit that had resisted the efforts of even the great technician god Ptah suddenly shifted into its power-shunt mode.
Energy began flowing through entirely new networks aboard Ra's Eye.
Mitch Storey was panting after the climb from ground level to the command deck of the defunct starship. Sure, he understood that Barbara Shore needed a trustworthy person to check that nothing had been left behind. But did it have to be him?
The only thing more annoying was to notice that Corporal Tom Vance, who was accompanying him, didn't seem to be breathing heavily at all.
A quick search showed that the place had indeed been cleaned out according to plan—apparently, it just hadn't been noted in the rush. Storey's response was brief and profane. "Well, we won't have to carry anything," he said, heading for the central stairs. "But we'll have to haul ass if we expect get out on time."
"You go on ahead," Vance said, something catching his eye. He'd spent enough time among the consoles here to spot something out of the ordinary. There were lights blinking on panels that had never lit up before.
And a lot of those lights were on the gunnery control console...
From the first rank of Skaara's attackers, Daniel Jackson now found himself among the last ranks of the StarGate's defenders. The Marine guards had conducted a stubborn retreat, first into the gold-quartz halls of the spaceship Ra's Eye, then into the stone passages of the StarGate pyramid itself.
The bombardment from the Boat of a Million Years had ceased as soon as the last of the rescue convoy had arrived. Apparently, Hathor still preferred not to damage irreplaceable assets.
She was perfectly willing to spend Horus guards, however. Under relentless pressure the Earthlings had been pushed about halfway down the Great Gallery. Daniel was well into the zen of combat, not worrying what the future might bring, when he was suddenly seized from behind.
"Sorry, Doc," Lieutenant Kawalsky muttered in his ear as he hauled the battling Egyptologist out of the battle line. "But the colonel wants you—now."
The hall of the StarGate, recently packed with retreating troops and refugees, now stood almost empty as Daniel walked in with his escort. His promise to go gracefully with Kawalsky at least had protected his dignity. Just as well. Daniel wouldn't have liked Sha'uri to see him being frog-marched in. Skaara was also on hand, as were Mitch Storey, Barbara Shore, Jack O'Neil, and a couple of military types.
Skaara told Daniel quietly, "Father has already gone on ahead through the StarGate. Dr. Destin believes he should survive the journey."
Sha'uri said nothing as Daniel came in. O'Neil evidently picked it up, glancing at the scholar with a sudden expression of comprehension.
"I understand that you might prefer to be out fighting than in here," he told Daniel. "I'd rather be on the firing line myself. But I have a report to make to General West, and frankly, I need you to comment on the capabilities of this Boat of a Million Years. We'll probably be the last group to make it through—"
"But, Colonel," Barbara Shore protested. "I told you one of my people hasn't shown up. Actually, he's one of your people—Corporal Vance."
"We can't wait forever," O'Neil said. "Mr. Storey, would you please activate the StarGate?"
Before Storey could move, however, the inner ring of symbols began moving by itself, altering the combination that led to Earth.
"What the hell—?" Storey said, staring.
Daniel whirled on O'Neil. "Maybe now you'll believe me when I tell you that Ra's medallion also serves as a StarGate key," he said.
"Sure we believe you," a pale Barbara Shore said. "Now that she's used it to lock us all in."