He looked helplessly at his former mentor. “But we can’t search every mastadge going out of the city for contraband-or burn down every house where weapons may be hidden.”
“It’s what you may have to do,” O’Neil said unhappily.
“The Elders would never agree to such a course.”
Translated, that meant Skaara couldn’t go against his father, or the deal with Nakeer.
‘Then you’ll have to do your best to protect the weapons you’re responsible for,” O’Neil said. “Close the arsenals. Put the rifles and ammunition in the hands of those you really trust. The blast-lances here are reasonably safe-they can’t be smuggled through our camp. In town, you may want to gather your blast-lances at your headquarters.”
O’Neil stepped to a footlocker, rummaged for a mo-ment, and produced a large padlock and key. “Put this on the door. Then put people you absolutely trust out-side that door.”
“What’s been getting into Gary Meyers?” Barbara Shore asked as she paged through the latest set of translations on her desk. A flood of material had hit the translators after Pete Auchinloss had managed to pry it from what passed for mainframe computers aboard Ra’s Eye. Even Gary Meyers had been pressed into service. “This stuff looks ... coherent!”
“Maybe if s more a case of what Gary’s been getting into,” Mitch Storey smart-mouthed.
“Do tell,” Barbara said. “Maybe we can get some more of it for the rest of the staff.”
The bearded technician shook his head, his lips twitching. “Ifs dumb gossip. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Barbara said nothing, just training a pair of piercing brown eyes on him.
“All right. The new girl on the project, Faizah. I hear Meyers is all over her.”
“Is that a trace of male ego I detect, darlin’?” Barbara inquired sweetly. “Bruised male ego,” Mitch admitted. “Hey, I checked her out. There was a major babe alert when Faizah came on board. But either Meyers has latched on to her professionally-or she’s hooked up with him personally. I hear she wraps him right around her little finger.”
“Good,” Barbara said. “Gary needed someone to take the starch out of his shorts.”
Storey looked a little alarmed. “But if she’s sleeping with him-“
“They’ve managed to make beautiful translations together,” Barbara finished for him. “This stuff is clear, concise, and best of all, it make sense to me as a scientist. We’ll try her on the next batch from Auchinloss alone. And if she works out the way I think she will-we have a new star translator!” Sha’uri stepped quietly down the stairwell, away from the command deck. She hated herself for stand-ing there, eavesdropping on the conversation between the two Earthers, especially since she and Barbara Shore had become friends. But although she hadn’t understood all the slang, two things seemed perfectly clear.
Her husband’s people seemed frighteningly ca-sual in their approach to sex and relationships. And Faizah seemed to be exploiting that casual attitude to further her interests.
The uncomfortable question arose-had she done it before?
Had she done it with Daniel?
“Are you nuts?” Daniel Jackson hooted with laugh-ter, “Faizah and Gary Meyers?”
Slowly his laughter faded as he tried to understand what was bugging Sha’uri.
Because something defi-nitely was.
“What’s wrong with Dr. Meyers?” Sha’uri asked. “I’ve heard you say that he is respected in your field-more than you were.”
“The guy’s a stiff!” Daniel burst out. “Faizah could do much better.”
She could? Sha’uri thought. With whom?
Daniel stared at his wife as he chewed a piece of bread. She can’t be jealous of Faizah on the job. He tried to edge around the subject. “I think I did the right thing, putting her on the project. From what I hear, Faizah has helped clear up a bunch of those technological hieroglyphics.”
“Yes. Dr. Meyers speaks very highly of her, too.”
Daniel swallowed a little too hard. Why was Sha’uri giving him the old skunk-eye? “What does that mean?”
“Just that it’s interesting how many men think Faizah is quite remarkable.
Especially men from good old sleep-with-anyone-you-feel-like Earth!” “Barbara Shore certainly isn’t a man. And she thinks that Faizah is an exceptional translator,” Daniel said reasonably.
Perhaps he’d have done better not invoking a woman who’d admittedly pursued him back on Earth.
The discussion that followed was not at all reasonable.
But it was quite heated.
Faizah looked at her teacher with wide eyes. “But why shouldn’t I be friendly with Gary?” she asked in astonishment.
“It just gives people the wrong idea,” Daniel said in an uncomfortable voice.
“You work under him-“
He bit off that sentence while he was still ahead. Hoo-boy! Faizah’s face radiated puzzlement. “But I call you Daniel, and I learn under you.”
Daniel was very glad that Sha’uri hadn’t heard that comment. He retreated to the proprieties of teaching.
“I shouldn’t have phrased the sentence that way,” he said stiffly. “Although there’s an accepted sense of working under someone’s direction, there’s a double meaning-“ A sort of naughty comprehension came over Faizah’s mobile features. “Oh, yes, we have that, too. We call it ‘agreeable work’!”
Looking into her laughing eyes, Daniel had to admit that farmers often had a more barnyard simplicity about procreative matters. “But who would object-oh. It’s Sha’uri, isn’t it?”
Again, Daniel had to credit his star pupil’s quick mind.
“Things don’t seem to be getting any better between you, do they?” she said. “Just bigger and better arguments,” Daniel admitted. It seemed that the more difficult it became to talk to Sha’uri, the more understanding Faizah became. At first Daniel had just spoken in generalities, trying for a second opinion from a woman of the same age and culture. But oddly, their conversations had grown more specific-and downright personal-while also broadening into discussions of policy and politics.
“I’ve been thinking about why Sha’uri feels troubled.” Faizah spoke in that odd combination of innocence and forthrightness that reminded Daniel of the midnight talk fests of his university days.
“She’s one of the people who had the most to lose when the world changed,” Faizah said. “Think about it. She was one of a very privileged few on this world. Her father was the virtual ruler of Nagada, in the ab-sence of Ra or the Horus guards.”
The girl shook her head. “I guess there’s a little bit of Ra in all of us. When people have power, they want to keep it. I saw that when I met Gary. He had to be the boss. Maybe it’s the same thing here.
Kasuf still runs Nagada, with your help. Skaara leads warriors. And Sha’uri. .. found you.” “I-ah, think you’re oversimplifying,” Daniel said, his voice constricted. He’d always considered his mar-riage a piece of almost Hollywood luck-the end-of-the-movie scene where the hero weds the chieftain’s daughter. But what had Sha’uri gotten out of the bargain?
Faizah was still talking. “It must be hard, I suppose, to face what Abydos has become if you’re still con-nected to the old ways of things. Like children. Old fo-gies-“she smiled at the idiom-“tell me I ought to be married and pregnant by now. It’s one of the reasons I was glad to leave home. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be here, making a future for my possible children rather than making children for a possible future.”
She was very serious now. “I mean, I’ve got the rest of my life for kids. With the work we have to do now for Abydos-opting out now would be just about the same thing as-as treason.”
“That’s a pretty strong statement, young lady,” Daniel said. “We’ve talked a bit about how things work on my world and how they work here. But what you’re talking about now sounds very much like what we Earth folk call politics.” “ ‘Politics.’ “ Faizah repeated the word as if she were tasting it. “If that means how I think this world should be-well, you might not like it.” “As long as the program doesn’t start with
‘Round up all the Earthmen and kill ‘em,’ I think I can take it.” Daniel smiled.
“I belong to a group called Freedom,” Faizah said. “Some of the more extreme members might like your idea.”
Daniel’s smile faded. “I’d heard that some of this faction stuff was getting out of hand.”
“But-but-!” Faizah stumbled over her words. “We thank you for what you’ve done. Without the Earthmen we’d still be a slave planet. But we’re not so grateful that we’ll follow every order-or even sug-gestion-that comes through the StarGate.”
Thinking of the bitter struggle with the United Min-ing Cartel, Daniel had to admit the young woman was right.
“We can’t stay with the old tribal ways,” Faizah went on. “That would leave me back home, planting fields-and being planted with babies. Learning to write is good. Everyone on Abydos should have that, if only to read the hidden histories. Once we all know where we came from, we can decide on a destiny for this world.”
“And what do you think that should be?” Daniel asked. Faizah shrugged enchantingly. “I’ll be honest-I don’t know. But I feel that maybe the people on Earth had the right idea when they buried their StarGate.” She raised a hand toward his shocked expression. “I don’t mean for thousands of years-maybe for a century or so.” Faizah smiled. “So the people who live on Abydos can just get to work building their world- undisturbed.” Daniel found himself smiling at his student’s audacity. I wonder how General West would react to that, he wondered. His cold, drafty door into the unknown being slammed shut-from the other side!
Then Daniel suddenly found Faizah’s plan less funny. How would West react to a movement that would cut off his only supply of Ra’s wonder quartz?
“Well, sir, the motor pool has just put its seal of ap-proval on the last shipment of Humvees to come through the gate,” Lieutenant Charlton reported to Jack O’Neil.
“No embarrassments like overinflated tires to ex-plode in the heat here?” the colonel inquired.
“Sir, I doubt the motor pool will ever live that one down.” Charlton smiled. Some people were still being called “desert cherries” because they had thought they were under attack.
“The news couldn’t have come at a better time,” O’Neil announced, holding up a piece of paper.
“We’ve just gotten a note from Daniel Jackson, who’s the closest thing we have to an Abydan Department of State. All the parties-Kasuf, Skaara, and Nakeer- have agreed to extended mechanized patrols.” “Everybody agreed?” Charlton said, impressed.
“They’re all having enough of a problem maintain-ing order where the population is heavy,” O’Neil said.
“None of them can spare people for the high desert. Besides, Humvees can travel farther and faster than any mastadge-and carry more firepower.”
His face hardened as he spoke to his aide. “I want to put maximum destruction on the sand lice preying on the caravans,” he said. “But I also want something else. We still haven’t found a trace of those Horus guards who came though the StarGate-except, per-haps, for all hell breaking loose off in the desert. If there’s anything to be found out there, I want it found.” Charlton responded with an enthusiastic salute.
“Not a problem, sir.” “I don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” Daniel Jackson miserably called to Faizah as he clung to the howdah of his riding mastadge. He’d traveled on the backs of the odd beasts for short distances. It was sort of like riding a giant, animated dust mop with a weird gait. Prolonged traveling, however, brought aches and pains to his thighs and butt.
But there was worse. Since the death of his parents in a horrible plane crash, Daniel had suffered from hodophobia, a psychosomatic disorder also called “the traveling allergy.” Even considering a journey set his nose running. He’d had a miserable, drippy adjust-ment to Abydos-since just the thought of being on a strange planet had been enough to set off his allergy. This cross-country mastadge jaunt was bringing out his hodophobia in full force. Daniel’s nose was run-ning like a faucet. His handkerchief had been soaked hours ago, and it had picked up a fine film of grit stirred up by the caravan’s progress. Whenever he wiped his nose, he also felt as though he was sand-papering it.
And now, to add insult to injury, the mastadge’s galumphing, stilt-legged progress was beginning to give him motion sickness. Sure-barf all over the place-that should really impress Faizah, he thought. How had he let her talk him into a field trip, of all things? Faizah couldn’t believe that he’d never been to a farming enclave. With typical efficiency she had made arrangements for a quick tour. She’d wished she could show him her own hometown, but that was just too far away. Instead, they’d set off for the farm area nearest Nagada. That had been the better part of two days ago, and Daniel was nearly at the end of his rope.
Astride her own mastadge, Faizah looked as fresh as when she’d mounted the hairy beast two mornings ago. “Oh, come on, Daniel. We’re almost there. See how the mastadges are acting.”
Indeed, both their mounts had raised their bearded, stumpy heads, expanding their nostrils and blearing like air horns.
“They smell water,” Faizah explained.
The caravan crested the next dune-and the desert abruptly stopped. It was as though some titan had drawn a line. On one side was lifeless sand. On the other side was a riot of green, growing things amid the glint of irrigation ditches. The abrupt transition struck Daniel almost like a blow. Even his nose turned off.
At an order from the caravan leader, the file of beasts veered off to parallel the fields. Apparently, mastadges couldn’t be trusted among the crops. Daniel jounced along, watching the farmer folk at work.
Some would pause in their labors to wave to the strangers. Feeling like a tourist, Daniel waved back. It seemed that every square inch of arable land was intensively tilled. At last, however, they came to a stony height that overlooked a river. It was crowned with the town of Ezer.
Daniel stared. The walls enclosed a space as large as Nagada. He said as much to Faizah, asking, “How many people live here?”
“Not many,” she replied. “Most of the space is now used for granaries.” She cocked an eye at him.