nowhere to run.
Even in the back of Hathor's mind was the possibility that in case of defeat, she could take off with her flotilla and establish herself as ruler in some other corner of the universe. Ra did not take kindly to argument, but Hathor had stuck to her point. The Ombos rebels had considerable technology-and they would doubtless have the StarGate targeted. A spaceborne STRIKE proved much less expensive-and it had been successful. Catching up on history since her internment, Hathor had been baffled that the fleet hadn't been used to put down the revolt on Earth. Now she knew why. "Where are the ships?" Hathor demanded. "I'll show you." Ptah turned to a panel and flipped some controls. A holographic image swam into existence. Thoth gave a nervous start when he recognized the scene. It was a supposedly secure crystal-domed gallery where so many clandestine meetings had taken place. Ptah manipulated more controls, and the viewpoint shifted. They now appeared to be looking through the dome at the surface of the moon outside.
Hathor frowned. "What happened to the spaceport?" she demanded. She saw only a single docking station, a rawlooking pyramid of medium size.
Where the others had stood, there were now two pyramid-domes, obviously representing permanent installations. "Look more closely at the additions to the palace," Ptah advised. Hathor examined the image more carefully and realized that despite accretions at their bases, the two new edifices were based on the superstructures of a pair of her old battleships. "After leaving you to your rest, Ra briefly utilized the ships as escorts for his flying palace," Ptah explained. "The only practical purpose he put them to was on Abydos. Ra used the main batteries to gain access to a deposit of the crystal-element." Ptah gave his erstwhile wife a sidelong glance. "But your toys, like your ambitions, troubled Ra. While you slept, he finally decommissioned the vessels." Hathor nodded in silence, well understanding the head god's purpose. Demolishing the ships would deny malcontents any viable chance of escape. "How long would it take to make those vessels spaceworthy again?" "One of them was completely gutted," Ptah said. "The other at least retains a command deck." He glanced at the technicians in the workshop. "We use it as a training center, preparing backup crews for Ra's yacht." "How long?" Hathor persisted. "We could probably refit the drives on one ship. There's also the question of hull integrity. Many access ways were cut in the inner hull, connecting passages within the stone pyramid with companionways in the ship. It would mean a serious patching job. We'd have to remount the offensive batteries, reconnect the fire-control computers, restore life support ... it wouldn't take as long as building a ship from scratch, but a recommissioning effort would require considerable time." They stood in silence for a moment, until Ptah finally gave in to the pressure of the dark eyes on him. "The better part of a year," he said at last. "THREE months," Hathor told him flatly. "It should take me that long to establish my position here. I sincerely hope you can manage your work as swiftly. Your immortality depends upon it." She gave Ptah a smile as artificial as most of his body. "How unfortunate, after surviving as long as you have, that I should lose you over so trivial a matter, husband."
CHAPTER 6
PrEPARATIONS
The task of turning a pleasure dome back into a battleship was difficult enough, given the lack of dock-construction facilities. Ra had done away with them millennia ago, and Ptah wasn't one to cry over spilled milk. Still worse from the engineer god's point were the delays attributable to political obstacles. Several of Hathor's rivals maintained suites of apartments in the former battlewagons, or housed their troops in barracks within the construction. These warrior gods were not about to move merely to oblige a strange woman they considered an enemy and an upstart.
Even in the back of Hathor's mind was the possibility that in case of defeat, she could take off with her flotilla and establish herself as ruler in some other corner of the universe. Ra did not take kindly to argument, but Hathor had stuck to her point. The Ombos rebels had considerable technology-and they would doubtless have the StarGate targeted. A spaceborne STRIKE proved much less expensive-and it had been successful. Catching up on history since her internment, Hathor had been baffled that the fleet hadn't been used to put down the revolt on Earth. Now she knew why. "Where are the ships?" Hathor demanded. "I'll show you." Ptah turned to a panel and flipped some controls. A holographic image swam into existence. Thoth gave a nervous start when he recognized the scene. It was a supposedly secure crystal-domed gallery where so many clandestine meetings had taken place. Ptah manipulated more controls, and the viewpoint shifted. They now appeared to be looking through the dome at the surface of the moon outside.
Hathor frowned. "What happened to the spaceport?" she demanded. She saw only a single docking station, a rawlooking pyramid of medium size.
Where the others had stood, there were now two pyramid-domes, obviously representing permanent installations. "Look more closely at the additions to the palace," Ptah advised. Hathor examined the image more carefully and realized that despite accretions at their bases, the two new edifices were based on the superstructures of a pair of her old battleships. "After leaving you to your rest, Ra briefly utilized the ships as escorts for his flying palace," Ptah explained. "The only practical purpose he put them to was on Abydos. Ra used the main batteries to gain access to a deposit of the crystal-element." Ptah gave his erstwhile wife a sidelong glance. "But your toys, like your ambitions, troubled Ra. While you slept, he finally decommissioned the vessels." Hathor nodded in silence, well understanding the head god's purpose. Demolishing the ships would deny malcontents any viable chance of escape. "How long would it take to make those vessels spaceworthy again?" "One of them was completely gutted," Ptah said. "The other at least retains a command deck." He glanced at the technicians in the workshop. "We use it as a training center, preparing backup crews for Ra's yacht." "How long?" Hathor persisted. "We could probably refit the drives on one ship. There's also the question of hull integrity. Many access ways were cut in the inner hull, connecting passages within the stone pyramid with companionways in the ship. It would mean a serious patching job. We'd have to remount the offensive batteries, reconnect the fire-control computers, restore life support ... it wouldn't take as long as building a ship from scratch, but a recommissioning effort would require considerable time." They stood in silence for a moment, until Ptah finally gave in to the pressure of the dark eyes on him. "The better part of a year," he said at last. "THREE months," Hathor told him flatly. "It should take me that long to establish my position here. I sincerely hope you can manage your work as swiftly. Your immortality depends upon it." She gave Ptah a smile as artificial as most of his body. "How unfortunate, after surviving as long as you have, that I should lose you over so trivial a matter, husband."
CHAPTER 6
PrEPARATIONS
The task of turning a pleasure dome back into a battleship was difficult enough, given the lack of dock-construction facilities. Ra had done away with them millennia ago, and Ptah wasn't one to cry over spilled milk. Still worse from the engineer god's point were the delays attributable to political obstacles. Several of Hathor's rivals maintained suites of apartments in the former battlewagons, or housed their troops in barracks within the construction. These warrior gods were not about to move merely to oblige a strange woman they considered an enemy and an upstart.
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