by Dave Freer
Cruz shrugged. "Yeah. I don't have a problem with the Doc. He reminds me of that Lagrange kid in B company. You know: the small, wiry little runt who took a lot of crap at first because the guys all figured that he'd be the one to flake out on the physical stuff. Then he turned out to be an Olympic-class gymnast."
McKenna snorted. "I was there for the sit-ups competition. So, we need the Doc. That leaves Liz, Lamont, Medea, and Bes, if you don't include the dragons and Throttler, that you want to count out. Well, you try telling 'Sir' that she's not going. Or Bes."
"Or Medea," said Cruz quietly, with a wry face. "She gets kinda determined. And that temple really upset her."
"So that leaves Lamont. He's the guy—next to you, Anibal—that I'd most like to have with me in a fight." McKenna rubbed his jaw. "I'm sure he was in the service, even if he won't talk about it. And no REMF either."
Cruz sighed. "So what else can go wrong? Besides the whole fucking plan?"
McKenna took a deep breath. "Well, to be honest, there are the parachutes."
Cruz put a hand over his eyes. "Yeah. I just love the idea of jumping using something made by a spider."
"Well, let's give it a test run," suggested McKenna.
"With a big rock. Get your girlfriend to sew us a bag."
McKenna didn't even attempt to argue over the definition of Arachne. "Okay. Then we can go on with that crossbow project."
"And what do you want me to do?" asked Prometheus with a smile.
The two paratroopers stared up at him. Way up. McKenna grinned. Cruz even managed a smile.
* * *
Liz was in a pensive mood. She sighed as she wandered through what must once have been the armory of the Titans. No wonder these guys had been outclassed by the Olympians. Their spears and arrows still had flint tips.
"What's wrong?" came a quiet voice.
She hadn't even seen Jerry there. "Hi. I was just thinking. Wondering about things."
"Nickel for your thoughts," he murmured, while fiddling with a bow three sizes too big for him.
"I reckon you'd think you'd been cheated." She smiled all the same.
"I'll take that chance."
She shrugged. "It was just that I was, well, almost enjoying this. Then I saw that town. Those children. And then, when we were talking about the assault, I realized that we could all get killed. That all this was really totally crazy. That maybe we should be out there trying to find the populace, arm them, train them. Persuade them to at least fight back. Fight an ordinary war, instead of this crazy, commando-style raid."
Jerry took a deep breath. "It's not as simple as all that. That's in part what this Krim-monster depends on: That people here at least accept the 'rightness' and the power of the gods. They won't fight. Besides, to be honest, even if we got every human in Ur-Greece, armed them, trained them, and sent them on a frontal assault on Mount Olympus . . . we would probably still lose."
"So why are you doing this, Jerry? Why are you taking part in this?"
He paused. Bit his knuckle. Then said, seriously: "For the same reason you are. Because somebody has to do it. And if I won't, how the hell can I expect Cruz and Mac to do it for me?"
She nodded. "You know, I've realized throughout this jaunt how easy it is to misjudge people. I thought you were one of these little academic arts types. Faint at the sight of blood. Ineffectual. Chicken."
Jerry grinned. "That's a pretty fair description. You just forgot about the 'scared of girls' part."
She lowered her lashes. "Even me?"
His eyes fell away. But only for a moment. "You more than the others. You're rather like my dream girl. A . . . beau ideal woman."
They stood for a few moments in silence.
"I guess I shouldn't have said that." Jerry flushed a little with embarrassment.
Liz smiled broadly. "Actually, it's pretty delightful being told you're somebody's beau ideal. Especially when you've spent your life thinking you're just a big ox and not very feminine."
Jerry smiled shyly. "Well, you got it wrong."
She stuck her tongue out. "My mother told me so. And it's like your assessment of yourself. Way out."
Jerry put his nose up in the air. "I have thirty-six years of experience with my subject matter. How dare you tell me I'm wrong?"
She smiled. "You're an idiot."
"Ah! Now I happen to agree with you about that."
Silence returned. Jerry cleared his throat. Cleared it again.
Liz laughed. "Sure, Jerry. If we get out of this alive, and ever get back to our own world—it's a date."
47
Spiderwebs and moonshine.
Before dawn, Prometheus had transported the balloon fragments and all his companions across to the southeastern flank of Mount Ossa. A sea mist lay heavy across the Aegean, rolling off the sea and onto the mountain itself, cold and clammy.
Prometheus smiled. "Oceanus and his Oceanids have done their work well, Liz. Knowledge is a powerful tool."
"It's just upwelling," said Liz dismissively. "Deep cold water meets warm moist air."
Prometheus shook his head. "I will say it again. Knowledge is a powerful weapon. And out of the mist will come the balloons. To the Olympians they will rise out of the mist. They could just as easily have come across the sea from Lydia as from the slopes of Mount Ossa. Oceanus has sent his sons to fetch Aeolus, lord of the winds, to direct them. Now. To work, Magicians. To work! We have long hours ahead of us."
* * *
With the dawn, the first balloon rose out of the rose-tinted pearlescent mist. Halfway across the vale of Tempe, a thunderbolt from the high ramparts of Olympus struck it and it fell, burning.
But the next two were already on their way. All day long the thunder and destruction continued, until the red sun hung in the west like a balloon itself. . . .
"I don't know what the gods feel like, but I'm exhausted. Totally and utterly exhausted," said Liz.
Prometheus laughed. "Believe me. They feel far worse. Come. We will go back to the halls of the Titans. I will give you the draught of the Titans. Unlike ambrosia, it does not confer immortal life. But it does restore and refresh. Ambrosia makes the gods drunk."
Cruz was dirty, sweaty and tired. His face was covered in sooty smudges. "I could use the ambrosia myself," he muttered, wiping his hands on his trousers.
* * *
But the draught of the Titans was indeed refreshing. It reminded Jerry of coffee. The effect was similar, only more like espresso. Double espresso. Make that treble espresso. Actually, just-leave-out-the-water espresso. Jerry felt as if he might have to prop his eyelids shut if he ever wanted to sleep again.
By the time Cruz and McKenna reappeared, their hands and faces blackened, clothed in the darkest items they could find, Jerry was feeling as if he'd been transformed into a very wide-awake superball. He was ready to bounce off walls, never mind take on a mere frontal assault of Olympus.
Liz arrived, her face similarly blackened. She was carrying a short, bronze-bladed stabbing spear.
"What's the get-up for, Liz? We've still got to get everything across to the vale of Parnassus." Jerry was carefully tying bundles to the huge spider-silk-reinforced basket.
"I'm going in with the parachute party," she said calmly.
Cruz looked up from where he was coiling what looked like miles of fine line. "You can't come along with us, Liz!"
"Why not?"
"Because we're paratroopers. You're not."
Liz glared at him. "I have a parachute too, thanks to Arachne. I've jumped before. I even went for a test jump yesterday. Which, according to Smitar, is more than you two have done. Tossing rocks off a poor dragon."
Mac looked at Cruz. Anibal raised his eyes to heaven. "Look, Liz. This isn't a yuppie thrill-trip. It's a goddamn night jump! And when we get down we've got do the stuff we're trained to do."
"Stow it, Anibal," said Liz scornfully. "I stalk better than either of you. Our job is to get a line down into the vale of P
arnassus so that the others, particularly the spiders, can get up there. Any 'commando' stuff, and the mission is history anyway. Because neither one of you is any more able to deal with gods than I am. And anyway, I promised Medea I'd look after you. Otherwise she won't let the dragons go."
"You're both crazy!" yelled Cruz angrily. "Listen to me, for God's sake. This is not a game for amateur skydivers."
Liz stayed calm. "It's a BASE jump, Anibal. From a stationary surface, not a plane. How many have you done?"
McKenna looked at Cruz. "We're not gonna win, you know. Arachne told me she wouldn't do the spider stuff either unless we took a minder. I tried telling her we'd be lot safer without, but she wouldn't accept that. She says . . . " He fell silent.
"Actually, guys," said Liz, "you can't stop me. One of the dragons will take me, whether you like it or not. So I don't see how you can stop me, short of tying me up, and I had a few words with Prometheus. You'd have to tie him up first. Seems someone said to him 'have lots of backup.' "
Anibal ground his teeth audibly. "Is anyone else going to jump? I thought the idea was to keep our drop as quiet as possible. Doesn't the loud lunatic dwarf want to come along too?"
Prometheus smiled. "Bes and Throttler have already gone. Throttler will drop Bes to the north. From that direction he can walk in to Olympus. It will be the most heavily guarded, of course. But Bes says he can move very stealthily."
Cruz groaned. "Like he does for eagles."
Jerry stared at Liz, biting his lip in frustration. Damn it. If he'd had a bit more time to think he'd have found a way to stop her.
Medea bustled in. She carried a large bowl, in which a mint-reeking salve lurked, and made occasional threatening gestures. She put it down on the table. "Here. Coat your weapons in this. It should make monsters, nymphs, and maybe even the gods sleep."
Jerry walked up to it, his heart doing trip-hammer imitations. He carefully coated his blade. "It doesn't hurt people, does it?" he asked calmly.
Medea shook her head. "No. It is harmless to those who are not of the blood of Cronus."
Liz had walked up with her short spear. As she bent forward over the bowl . . . Jerry pricked her forearm.
A droplet of blood welled up. Liz looked at it and then at him. "What the hell did you do that for?"
"Sorry."
Then her eyes narrowed. "Oho! You're a sneaky bastard! Does this stuff work on me, Medea?"
Medea shook her head. "No. I said so."
Liz grinned nastily at Jerry. "Nice try though, Jerry."
He shrugged. "I had to give it a go."
"Well, don't even think of trying it again!" she snapped. But her voice seemed very warm.
* * *
Jerry watched as they mounted the two dragons and rose in a slow spiral towards the moon. Scudding cloud obscured it and the parachute "brigade" was lost in the darkness. He felt his cheek. She'd given him a peck in parting. Forgiveness for his attempt to stop her going, as she said, and in case something went wrong. He shrugged. He wished like hell that he was a big handsome he-man. He wished he'd tried skydiving.
He turned to go back to the preparations for the frontal assault. The problem was a simple one. The icy, bleak heights of the mythological world's Olympus were too cold for the spiders. Yet Prometheus, who had been to the top, assured them that the dwelling place of the gods was not more than pleasantly cool. Somehow they had to get huge numbers of spiders up to the city of the gods.
Jerry was extremely glad he was not a spider. The basket would be bad enough.
* * *
Up in the silent darkness clinging to the harness on Smitar's back, Liz felt her bravado drain away. Still, it was too late now.
They continued the long slow spiral upwards. Her mouth was dry. It was going to be like doing a BASE jump in total darkness, and you'd have to be damn sure you hadn't tangled the risers. And there was no reserve chute . . . maybe she should have encouraged Jerry a bit more. He was a nice guy. The sort that wouldn't make a move without an invitation in triplicate. And she'd been brought up not to issue invitations.
Then below them in the darkness were the lights of Olympus. And the blessing of moonlight reflecting off the scudding clouds. She began carefully arranging her 'chute on the broad dragon back. Cruz and Mac could take it in turns to jump. The lights looked a long way down against the bulk of the mountain.
"Cruz fsayfs to wait for the cloud. Rendevoufs near the fsoutheafstern lightfs."
The cloud came. Taking that deep shaky breath, Liz jumped. The spider-web 'chute spiraled. She jerked frantically at the risers. Felt the 'chute bite air. She nearly broke a leg on the bruising landing. The only way out of the harness was slow, or cut. She cut.
Now she was loose, free at the top of Olympus in the pitch dark. She couldn't see the lights. She had no idea in which direction they lay. She'd been too busy anticipating the landing to pay attention to her bearings. Maybe there was something to all this military professionalism after all. Oh well. When in doubt, don't scream and shout, pick a direction and move out. . . .
It was easier said than done. The top of Olympus was rocky and confusing. And the moon remained obstinately cloud-hidden. Eventually she had the bright idea of climbing the highest rock. And then of course the moon came out from behind the clouds.
What Liz saw nearly made her sick. There must have been more wind than she had anticipated. She was right on the edge. If she'd chosen a different bearing, she'd have taken a shortcut down to the bottom of the mountain. And another few yards of wind speed and she'd have been parachuting down to the others. Maybe there was more to this than she'd opened her big yap about. The lights were back there.
Then she realized that she had made yet another mistake. Cruz and McKenna were each carrying at least a thousand yards of light spider-line. She wasn't. She was in a good position to get the line down, but she had no line. And maybe the other two had had similar problems. Maybe they'd gone over the edge. Maybe they'd landed in among the rocks. Broken legs or necks. Maybe their 'chutes had failed. Maybe . . . Liz felt very alone and very scared as she made her way towards the lights.
Fortunately Argus of the hundred eyes, the last watchman of the access to heaven, coughed. Otherwise he'd have seen her before she saw him. He was standing at the rendezvous. If the others were not on this side of him . . . They'd have to get past him somehow. And short of major rock-climbing there didn't seem to be a way.
Liz was not normally prey to indecision. She was now. Could she get close enough to stab, or should she try to throw that assegai, or—?
* * *
In the shelter of the rocks, Cruz took a careful bead. The sights on the half-assed crossbow were nearly as half-assed as the crossbow itself. It was just a bow set in a plank, really. With a groove to give the arrow a reasonably straight run, and a sort of curved fork at the end to provide a string-holder trigger. Even so, from this range he shouldn't miss.
He missed.
McKenna was already running in, his Gerber in his hand. Argus lunged forward. Liz's spear hit him in the shoulder instead of the spine. She, at least, had the sense to throw herself at his head and to grab his mouth. Cruz flung himself into the fray too. But Argus was a giant, and if he was of the blood of Cronus, he seemed immune to Medea's potions. And even three to one, with Cruz choking and being choked, it could have no happy ending. Liz, clinging to his head, was knocked off against a rock. The Giant got McKenna by one leg and Cruz by both arms with the other immense hand.
"Ha. Now you die," growled Argus. He was going to dash McKenna's brains out against the wall.
Then Bes arrived. The little hooligan ran straight up the giant as if he were a staircase, grabbed him by the ears and head-butted him. Mac fell free. Then Bes wrapped those bandy legs of his around the giant's throat. Argus wasn't going to be screaming for a while. Then, just when Bes had hauled out that evil-looking dagger of his, Argus stumbled. Nearly squashed the dwarf as he fell. He gave a bubbling snore, all hundred eyes
closed.
McKenna picked himself up. "I'm gonna have to talk to that girlfriend of yours about how long it takes for her potions to work," he said quietly, flexing a bruised shoulder.
Bes grinned. "I don't approve of all these potions. Sport and drugs don't mix. Why did you start the fighting without me?"
Cruz took a deep breath. "Because we didn't know you were there. Come on. Let's get this big goon out of sight, and tied up, in case this shit wears off."
* * *
Spotting the target for the drop was easy. One tiny fire burned down in the folds of Olympus. Getting the cord down was less so. It was extremely light, and it had to be weighted. The weight kept getting stuck on ledges, and, by the sound of it, causing minor avalanches. But eventually there came a tug. It was a good thing Prometheus had said to secure the cord and themselves first. Only the Titan could have tugged that hard. After a minute they began to haul.
It was also a good thing there were four of them, and that Bes was one of those four. Spider-line is very light. But that was nearly nine hundred feet's worth. Liz was soon blessing the gloves she'd been given by the Colchian shepherds. The cord was run through the big wooden pulley and clipped by one of Mac's heavy iron (once steel) snap links, as a guide to the line that was coming up. Eventually, that reached the bottom and then obviously the Titan began to pull. Thicker line came up. And more. And then the pulley began to squeak as a real load came onto it. Cruz, swearing, muffled it as best he could. There was a lookout on the far pinnacle. Presumably the watcher was keeping an eye out for balloons, and it was three hundred yards away . . . and the rope line was in a groove out of his line of sight . . . but still.
* * *
The waiting had been the worst part. Jerry had never thought he'd be so grateful for a rock that nearly brained him. They all retreated hastily. It soon became obvious that the cord was not getting all the way down. Eventually, Throttler flew up and fetched it, from a good four hundred feet up.