"McCay, Bill - Stargate Rebellion" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCay Bill)

of the hieroglyphics in a certain pattern. The crystal walls of the box
shifted as if they were live things. A seemingly solid cover stone
split into THREE sections. The sun disk rose head high, another section
of the cover stone moving with it, sliding out in two pieces to give the
disk wings. A pearlescent light flooded the room, coming from inside the
box. Thoth stepped forward, his face tight with excitement. The head of
the sarcophagus interior was shaped like a pharaonic headdress, forming
a sort of halo for the beautiful female face lying in repose there. The
woman had an olive complexion, dark but not tanned. Her aquiline
features were perfectly formed. With her eyes closed, she looked like a
beautifully crafted statue. Then Thoth noticed the slight rise and fall
of the lithe breasts under the pectoral necklace of her chest piece. The
eyes opened. Hathor lived.

CHAPTEr 2

INTELLIGENCE ASSESSMENT

Pain had not merely tinged, but had been Hathor's last conscious memory.
The battle for Ombos had no longer been in doubt. Step by ruthless step
she'd turned the situation on the revolting planet around until the
rebels didn't merely face defeat, they faced extermination. Even her own
troops feared her as the goddess who had covered a planet in blood.
Hathor had been directing operations against one of the few remaining
rebel strongholds, hidden in an inaccessible mountain range. The
udajeets, single-man gliders, had flown repeated missions, their paired
blasters firing incessantly to clear a landing area literally down to
scorched earth. But no sooner had she set foot to terra firma than one
of those red-haired devils burst out of a pit in the ground. The poor
bastard hadn't carried an energy weapon. Apparently, the rebels had
learned that the Horus guards could scan for such armament. But even as
Hathor aimed her own blast-lance, the rebel had hurled some sort of
metal implement. Spikes of white-hot agony radiated from her stomach.
But this was no mere stab wound. Her nerves first seemed dipped in
acid, then went terrifyingly numb. "Poison-" she slurred to one of the
Horus guards blasting the now unarmed assassin. Then paralysis set
in-and with it, searing pain. Every move on the way back to the StarGate
was etched in anguish. She could smell the rot emanating from her
stomach even during the brief udajeet ride. Whatever had been smeared
on that damnable blade was turning her flesh into a necrotic mess. If
she survived this, Hathor promised herself, she'd track that poison
down. A new weapon for her arsenal ... Even the flesh on her face was
black and splitting by the time she finally reached Tuat. Ra himself
was on hand to greet her, and Hathor's heart died a little at his
reaction to her appearance. There was only one hope for her survival.
That was internment in Ra's sarcophagus of wonder. Certain others of
Ra's servants-the irreplaceable ones-had been placed inside that
crystalline box, suffering from a variety of ills. They'd all emerged
fit and cured. So as Hathor came to consciousness, she opened her eyes
full of hope. Her strength and looks would be restored. And, of course,