Rebellion Read Online Free PDF Page A

of his cloak. O'Neil had given him the pair of black, compact binoculars before leaving Abydos. As Skaara focused on the THREE figures sliding down the escarpment to the sands below, he saw that Nabeh's eyesight and words were true. The visitors were dressed as people from Earth. And one of them wore a black beret. Fixing his gaze, Skaara saw this was indeed Jack O'Neil. The black-hatted man wore a different suit: not green this time, but mottled in tans and yellows-the colors of the sands. The camouflage made it more difficult to spot the newcomers. But Skaara had gotten a good look at the colonel's face. That was all he needed to see to tell him that these were friends. Turning, he reorganized his little command from an ambush party to an honor guard.
    But, like any good officer, he still took a moment to lash into Nabeh for wasting their precious ammunition. Walter Draven, UMC's advance man on Abydos, threw his long, thin body to the sand as the noise of rattling discharges echoed against the face of the pyramid. "That sounds like gunshots," he said. The hard eyes in his hatchet-like face turned almost angrily to their military liaison. "At least a clip on an M-16
    firing at full auto," Colonel Jack O'Neil agreed. "You said these people were primitives-that they barely had metal tools when you met them!"
    Draven's legal background broke out at the oddest moments, like this accusatory speech. "Well, it sounds as if the locals got themselves some hardware," Martin Preston, the engineering side of the scouting party, pointed out. He was short and stocky, with a round red face and bandy legs. But he was supposed to know everything there was to know about mining in primitive conditions. "A group of kids helped us," O'Neil explained, a brief smile coming to his lips at the memory of Skaara and his friends. "They used some of our guns. Although," he admitted, "I'm surprised by this date that they'd have any bullets left." "Maybe they salvaged some from your supplies," Preston's practical voice pointed out. "According to your report, you chose to abandon most of the equipment at your base camp." O'Neil barely hid his surprise that General West had given classified reports to a mining engineer. He glanced toward the growing mound of sand that entombed most of the cases of supplies left behind. "If so, they showed more initiative than I'd have expected." His face became grim. "More discipline, too." "How so?"
    Draven demanded. "Kids and guns are a dangerous combination. Put a gun in a kid's hand, and it may well go off." The UMC men glanced at each other, then followed silently as O'Neil led the way down the rocky face of escarpment. No other shots rang out. "Could it have been target practice?" Preston suggested a trifle breathlessly as he swung down, his foot scrabbling for a foothold. "I'd say it was more in the nature of a signal," O'Neil opined. He was breathing as easily as if he were on a stroll across the parade ground. "So these people have someone watching the StarGate." The sharp-faced Draven managed to make it sound like a hostile act. "Well, they would have a vested interest in knowing if anyone appeared," O'Neil pointed out. "You think this could be due to that professor who took up with the local girl and went native? What was his name-Jackson?" Draven asked. O'Neil had to chuckle at the idea.
    "Daniel? I think he'd be too busy translating hieroglyphics and enjoying married life to organize any sort of civil defense." "Then who has people out there spying on us?" Draven wanted to know. "There's an easy enough way to find out," O'Neil responded. "We'll go out there and ask them." He reached the base of the stony outcrop and set off for the highest dune in sight. Draven and Preston scrambled down and trailed after the colonel. The sand seemed to suck at their feet, making their steps slow and clumsy. O'Neil, in contrast, seemed to glide along, his Desert Storm surplus uniform blurring his movements as he forged