Ilium

56 The Plains of Ilium

“I have to go find Achilles and Hector,” Mahnmut said to Orphu. “I’m going to have to leave you here on Thicket Ridge.”

“Sure. Why not? Maybe the gods will mistake me for a gray boulder and not drop a bomb on me. But will you do me two favors?”

“Of course.”

“First, keep in tightbeam touch. It gets sort of lonely here in the dark when I don’t know what’s going on. Especially with only a few minutes left before the Device goes off.”

“Sure.”

“Second, tie me down, will you? I like this levitation harness stuff—although I’m damned if I can figure out how it works—but I don’t want the breeze to blow me into the sea again.”

“Already done,” said Mahnmut. “I’ve got you tied to the biggest rock on the leaping Amazon Myrine’s mounded tomb up here on the ridge.”

“Great,” said Orphu. “By the by, do you have any idea who this leaping Amazon Myrine was and why she has a tomb here just outside the walls of Ilium?”

“Not a clue,” said Mahnmut. He left his friend behind and began running on all fours across the plains of Ilium toward the Achaean camp, receiving a few curious stares from the milling Greeks in the process.

He didn’t have to search the beach for Achilles and Hector. The two heroes had just crossed the trench bridge and were leading their captains and two or three thousand fighters with them toward the middle of the old battlefield. Mahnmut decided to be formal and rose to his hind legs for the greetings.

“Little machine,” said Achilles, “where is your master, the son of Duane?”

It took Mahnmut a second to process this. “Hockenberry?” he said at last. “First of all, he’s not my master. No man is my master and I’m no man. Secondly, he’s gone to Olympos to see what the gods are up to. He said he’d be right back.”

Achilles showed his white teeth in a grin. “Good. We need intelligence on the enemy.”

Odysseus, standing between Hector and Achilles, said, “It didn’t work too well for Dolon.” Diomedes, behind the heroes, laughed. Hector scowled.

Dolon was Hector’s scout last night when things looked so bad for the Greeks, sent Orphu. Even though Mahnmut understood Greek now and could speak it after the download from Orphu, he was still sending the whole dialogue to his friend via subvocals. Orphu’s message wasn’t finished—Diomedes and Odysseus captured Dolon when they were going out on a night raid, and after promising the Trojan that they wouldn’t hurt him, they got all the information they could from him and then Diomedes cut off his head. I think that Diomedes mentioned it because he still doesn’t really trust Hector as an ally and . . .

“Shelve it,” said Mahnmut, forgetting to subvocalize. He switched frequencies. I need to concentrate here. Mahnmut thought he was capable of multitasking as well as any other moravec, but Orphu’s history lesson was interfering with his real-time concentration.

“What did you just say?” demanded Hector. The Trojan hero was not happy. Mahnmut remembered that the man’s mother and half-sister had just been killed in the aerial bombardment, although he wasn’t sure that Hector knew that yet. Perhaps Hector was just in a bad mood.

“Just a brief prayer to my own gods,” said Mahnmut.

Odysseus had dropped to one knee and was feeling Mahnmut’s arms, torso, head, and protective shell. “Ingenious,” said the son of Laertes. “Whichever god crafted you, it was a fine job.”

“Thank you,” said Mahnmut.

I think you’ve stepped into a Samuel Beckett play, sent Orphu.

“Shut up,” Mahnmut said and sent in English. “Damn it, I keep forgetting to set the tightbeam for subvocal only.”

“He prays still,” said Odysseus, getting to his feet. “But I like the part where he said that his name was No Man. I’ll remember that.”

“Fleet-footed Achilles,” said Mahnmut in the proper Greek, “may I ask your intentions now?”

“We go to challenge the gods to come down for single combat,” said Achilles. “Or their army of immortals against our army of men—whichever they prefer.”

Mahnmut looked at the few thousand Greeks—many of them bloodied—who’d followed Achilles out from the camp. He turned his head and saw a thousand or fewer Trojans coming over the ridge to join Hector. “This is your army?” asked Mahnmut.

“The others will join us,” said Achilles. “Little machine, if you see Hockenberry, son of Duane, tell him to come to me at the center of the field.”

Achilles, Hector, and the Achaean captains strode off. The moravec had to dodge quickly or be trampled by the men and shields following.

“WAIT!” called Mahnmut. He’d used more amplification than he’d planned.

Achilles, Hector, Odysseus, Diomedes, Nestor, and the others turned. The men between Mahnmut and the heroes made a space.

“In thirty seconds,” said Mahnmut, “something’s going to happen.”

“What?” demanded Hector.

I don’t know, thought Mahnmut. I don’t even know if we’ll feel the effects here. Hell, I don’t even know if my timer-trigger is going to work at that depth in the Caldera Lake.

You’re subvocalizing, you know, sent Orphu.

Sorry, sent Mahnmut. Aloud, he said in Greek, “Wait and see. Eighteen seconds now.” The Greeks didn’t use minutes and seconds, of course, but Mahnmut thought he’d got the units translation right.

Even if the device blows Mars to bits, said Orphu, I don’t think this Earth is in that time or universe. But then again, the so-called gods have connected this place—wherever it is—to Olympos Mons via a thousand quantum tunnels.

“Nine seconds,” said Mahnmut.

What would an exploding Mars look like, in daylight, from this point in Asia Minor? sent Orphu. I could do a quick simulation.

“Four seconds,” said Mahnmut.

Or I could just wait to see. Of course, you’ll have to see for me.

“One second,” said Mahnmut.