somewhat from what the locals delivered for Ra," Daniel admitted. "But then, he was liable to kill them if he didn't get enough of the stuff." The UMC men set off with an escort that included O'Neil, Daniel, Kasuf, some other Elders, and Skaara. "I understand this is a pit mine," Preston said as they made their way across the desert into an already scorching morning. "I suppose you'd call it that," Daniel replied. "They bring the ore up from a deep hole in the ground." Ahead of them rose a large, billowing shape-a homespun tent erected on posts as tall as telephone poles. "That's the Tent of Rest," Daniel said. "The workers need both shade and water under these suns." Beyond the tent were the works themselves. A thin line of men and women waited to descend one ladder while a matching line rose from the deep, dust-streaming ravine. The members of the climbing line each carried satchels full of quartzose ore. The satchels on those waiting to descend were empty. Kasuf spoke, and Daniel translated. "They're working with a skeleton crew right now. Most of the miners have been diverted to crop planting and irrigation work." Daniel gave the advance man a lopsided smile. "That's something else they couldn't do in the face of Ra's slave driving." Preston stood at the lip of the ravine, his mouth wide open as he took in the mining operation. The walls of the ravine extended downward for hundreds of feet, with rough ledges carved out at irregular intervals. The only access between levels was by sturdy but crude ladders, built with two lanes for climbing or descent.
The structural members were trunks of whole saplings with the bark removed. The rungs were peeled tree branches. Bearers moved in an antlike stream up and down the ladders, picking up chunks of ore. On the ledges, but often on ladders themselves, workers swung rough picks or mattocks, physically chopping the ore out of the surrounding rock.
"My God," Preston breathed, staring downward. "They told me it was crude
... but this is downright primitive." Sure, O'Neil thought, he's used to seeing Third World mines run on leftover nineteenth-century European technology. This is more like the technical level of sixty centuries B.C. The mining engineer frowned, still staring downward. "Something wrong?" O'Neil asked. "This isn't natural," Preston said. "Of course not," the colonel responded. "They've been digging here for about eight thousand years." "That wouldn't account for this ravine." Preston leaned farther out, making O'Neil hope the man had good balance. "Okay,"
the colonel said, "so there was a fissure here in the first place, and the locals have just enlarged it." But Preston gave him a negative head shake. "There's no natural reason there should be a canyon here in the first place-no water, and this couldn't be done by wind erosion." He exchanged glances with Draven and O'Neil. "Look, I know enough about geology-I'm a mining engineer, for heaven's sake." Preston's eyes returned to the abyss. "It's as though the hand of God gouged a chasm in the rock right where the ore would be. And these folks have been digging and enlarging it ever since." "Not God, but an alien with the powers of a god," O'Neil said somberly. If Ra had weapons to gouge a planet's crust, maybe they'd been lucky that he hadn't expected much trouble on Abydos. The terrestrial visitors had considered Ra's pyramidal spaceship damned huge and impressive. What if that turned out to be a mere yacht? In that case, what would a space battleship look like? "What do you mean, the warships aren't available anymore?" The honeymoon was definitely over in the alliance between Hathor and Ptah.
She was crouched over a worktable in his shop, her clenched fists resting on scarred stone. The creation of a space fleet had been the crowning glory of her influence over Ra. He preferred to exert force through his StarGates, and was reluctant to allow spacecraft even to trusted subordinates. With the StarGates, rebels had
The structural members were trunks of whole saplings with the bark removed. The rungs were peeled tree branches. Bearers moved in an antlike stream up and down the ladders, picking up chunks of ore. On the ledges, but often on ladders themselves, workers swung rough picks or mattocks, physically chopping the ore out of the surrounding rock.
"My God," Preston breathed, staring downward. "They told me it was crude
... but this is downright primitive." Sure, O'Neil thought, he's used to seeing Third World mines run on leftover nineteenth-century European technology. This is more like the technical level of sixty centuries B.C. The mining engineer frowned, still staring downward. "Something wrong?" O'Neil asked. "This isn't natural," Preston said. "Of course not," the colonel responded. "They've been digging here for about eight thousand years." "That wouldn't account for this ravine." Preston leaned farther out, making O'Neil hope the man had good balance. "Okay,"
the colonel said, "so there was a fissure here in the first place, and the locals have just enlarged it." But Preston gave him a negative head shake. "There's no natural reason there should be a canyon here in the first place-no water, and this couldn't be done by wind erosion." He exchanged glances with Draven and O'Neil. "Look, I know enough about geology-I'm a mining engineer, for heaven's sake." Preston's eyes returned to the abyss. "It's as though the hand of God gouged a chasm in the rock right where the ore would be. And these folks have been digging and enlarging it ever since." "Not God, but an alien with the powers of a god," O'Neil said somberly. If Ra had weapons to gouge a planet's crust, maybe they'd been lucky that he hadn't expected much trouble on Abydos. The terrestrial visitors had considered Ra's pyramidal spaceship damned huge and impressive. What if that turned out to be a mere yacht? In that case, what would a space battleship look like? "What do you mean, the warships aren't available anymore?" The honeymoon was definitely over in the alliance between Hathor and Ptah.
She was crouched over a worktable in his shop, her clenched fists resting on scarred stone. The creation of a space fleet had been the crowning glory of her influence over Ra. He preferred to exert force through his StarGates, and was reluctant to allow spacecraft even to trusted subordinates. With the StarGates, rebels had
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