perfectionist master. Ptah insisted on redundant systems and extensive cross-testing. But the engineer of the gods only shrugged. "I tried to get a year, expecting to finish the job in half that time," Ptah said.
"But I have only a quarter of a year, which I estimate to be half the time I really need." His ghastly face gave the foreman an even ghastlier smile. "Under those constraints I am expected to present Hathor with a ship that can fly and shoot. I will do so. We must do so." He sent his dubious craftsman off to execute a mass-production job. Given Ptah's already papery voice, the foreman wouldn't be expected to catch his master's muttered comment: "I simply won't warrant how long it will do both." Eugene Lockwood had made himself a reputation in UMC as a site manager who got things done. He prided himself on being equally at home in an office or on the bottom of a mine shaft. But though he tried to keep it off his almost handsome, boy-next-door face, Lockwood found it vaguely off-putting to be working in an office at the bottom of a mine shaft. Or, to be more specific, in the bottom of the missile silo that housed the StarGate to Abydos. He was eager to establish himself on this new planet, to get hands-on. But there were a few million administrative details to be settled on Earth before he could get to work on his new assignment. A major annoyance was dealing with UMC's technical advance man, Martin Preston. Because of his expertise in primitive mining techniques, Preston had been moved to Lockwood's management team as a consultant. Lockwood just hoped the old boy didn't expect his advice to be taken seriously. "You've got to see these people at work to believe it," Preston was saying for about the dozenth time. "I've looked at photos," the manager said dismissively, depriving the engineer of eye contact by looking through some reports. Preston didn't get the hint.
"Pictures don't give any real hint of the scale of the operation," he went on. "And they're doing it all by brute-labor methods. No steam hoists. Not even tracks and ore cars." "Right, right, you've pointed this out." Forgetting himself, Lockwood directed an impatient glare at the engineer. "The people at corporate level tasked me with THREE
directives. One, i'm supposed to get this mine up and modernized. Two, I'm to handle any disruptions from outside sources-that means marginalizing this Daniel Jackson character." He shrugged. "I don't see any problem there. He's offered to teach the locals English. But we'll offer English classes that will knock the natives' socks off.
Audio-visual. Multimedia. We've already hired an educational TV company to make it as slick as possible. I'm figuring how many portable generators we'll need to run the video screens." Lockwood brought himself back to the task at hand. "And finally, I'm supposed to do all this while managing a profitable production of ore from the mine operation as it exists now." "But you're holding to production figures that I told you are too high." Preston's pudgy face was tight with disapproval. "I thought the figures cited by the Elders at Nagada were excessive, and you've inflated them." "It's a level of production that this mine has achieved in the past, according to our military sources."
"Yes. I was there with one of those military sources. He told me the only way those figures were achieved was by using the whole city's population as slave labor. This great god Ra or whatever was working them with guns to their heads. How do you expect to match that?"
Annoyed, Lockwood went back to riffling through reports. "My mandate is to achieve the highest production possible from the get-go. You copy?
This quartz stuff is apparently very valuable, judging from its price per ton. It's also very versatile, because research centers all over the country are screaming for it. And we've got to provide the stuff-in bulk." He tried to sweeten this annoying subordinate. "So I'll have to ask you and the local
"But I have only a quarter of a year, which I estimate to be half the time I really need." His ghastly face gave the foreman an even ghastlier smile. "Under those constraints I am expected to present Hathor with a ship that can fly and shoot. I will do so. We must do so." He sent his dubious craftsman off to execute a mass-production job. Given Ptah's already papery voice, the foreman wouldn't be expected to catch his master's muttered comment: "I simply won't warrant how long it will do both." Eugene Lockwood had made himself a reputation in UMC as a site manager who got things done. He prided himself on being equally at home in an office or on the bottom of a mine shaft. But though he tried to keep it off his almost handsome, boy-next-door face, Lockwood found it vaguely off-putting to be working in an office at the bottom of a mine shaft. Or, to be more specific, in the bottom of the missile silo that housed the StarGate to Abydos. He was eager to establish himself on this new planet, to get hands-on. But there were a few million administrative details to be settled on Earth before he could get to work on his new assignment. A major annoyance was dealing with UMC's technical advance man, Martin Preston. Because of his expertise in primitive mining techniques, Preston had been moved to Lockwood's management team as a consultant. Lockwood just hoped the old boy didn't expect his advice to be taken seriously. "You've got to see these people at work to believe it," Preston was saying for about the dozenth time. "I've looked at photos," the manager said dismissively, depriving the engineer of eye contact by looking through some reports. Preston didn't get the hint.
"Pictures don't give any real hint of the scale of the operation," he went on. "And they're doing it all by brute-labor methods. No steam hoists. Not even tracks and ore cars." "Right, right, you've pointed this out." Forgetting himself, Lockwood directed an impatient glare at the engineer. "The people at corporate level tasked me with THREE
directives. One, i'm supposed to get this mine up and modernized. Two, I'm to handle any disruptions from outside sources-that means marginalizing this Daniel Jackson character." He shrugged. "I don't see any problem there. He's offered to teach the locals English. But we'll offer English classes that will knock the natives' socks off.
Audio-visual. Multimedia. We've already hired an educational TV company to make it as slick as possible. I'm figuring how many portable generators we'll need to run the video screens." Lockwood brought himself back to the task at hand. "And finally, I'm supposed to do all this while managing a profitable production of ore from the mine operation as it exists now." "But you're holding to production figures that I told you are too high." Preston's pudgy face was tight with disapproval. "I thought the figures cited by the Elders at Nagada were excessive, and you've inflated them." "It's a level of production that this mine has achieved in the past, according to our military sources."
"Yes. I was there with one of those military sources. He told me the only way those figures were achieved was by using the whole city's population as slave labor. This great god Ra or whatever was working them with guns to their heads. How do you expect to match that?"
Annoyed, Lockwood went back to riffling through reports. "My mandate is to achieve the highest production possible from the get-go. You copy?
This quartz stuff is apparently very valuable, judging from its price per ton. It's also very versatile, because research centers all over the country are screaming for it. And we've got to provide the stuff-in bulk." He tried to sweeten this annoying subordinate. "So I'll have to ask you and the local
Similar Books
