Mahnmut described all of this to Orphu, subvocalizing on the tightbeam channel. The Ionian’s only comment was, “Sounds pretty, but I wish we were taking this tour under our own steam.”
Mahnmut remembered that he wasn’t here for sightseeing when the godlike humanoid dipped the chariot toward the summit of the giant volcano. Three thousand meters above the upper snow slopes, they passed through a forcefield—Mahnmut’s sensors registered the ozone shock and voltage differentials—and then leveled out for final approach to the green and grassy summit.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see this guy in the chariot coming sooner and take some evasive action,” Mahnmut said to Orphu in the last seconds before he had to shut down comm for landing.
“It’s not your fault,” said Orphu. “These deus ex machinas have a way of sneaking up on us literary types.”
After landing, the god who’d captured them grabbed Mahnmut by the neck and carried him unceremoniously into the largest artificial space the little Moravec had ever seen. Other male gods went out to haul in Orphu, the Device, and the transmitter. Still more male gods came into the hall as Zeus listened to their chariot god describe their capture. Mahnmut was comfortable now thinking that these chariot people thought of themselves as gods, assuming now that their choice of Olympus Mons as a home was no coincidence. The holograms in niches of scores and scores more gods and goddesses reinforced his hypothesis. Then the über-god whom Mahnmut assumed to be Zeus began speaking and it was all Greek to the moravec. Mahnmut spoke a sentence or two in English. The gray-bearded gods and the younger ones frowned their incomprehension. Mahnmut cursed himself for never loading ancient or modern Greek into his language base. It hadn’t seemed all that important at the time he’d first set out in The Dark Lady to explore the subsea oceans of Europa.
Mahnmut switched to French. Then German. Then Russian. Then Japanese. He was working his way through his modest database of human languages, framing the same sentence—“I came in peace and did not mean to trespass”—when the Zeus figure held up one massive hand to silence him. The gods spoke amongst themselves and didn’t sound happy.
What’s going on? tightbeamed Orphu. The Ionian’s shell was five meters away, on the floor with the other two artifacts from the gondola. Their captors hadn’t seemed to consider the possibility that there was a sentient person in that cracked and battered form, and they treated Orphu as another captured thing. Mahnmut had anticipated this. It’s why he phrased his sentence “I came in peace . . .” rather than “we.” Whatever the gods decided to do to him, Mahnmut, there was an outside chance that they would leave Orphu alone, although how the poor Ionian might be able to escape without eyes, ears, legs, or manipulators wasn’t clear to Mahnmut.
The gods are talking, tightbeamed Mahnmut. I don’t understand them.
Repeat a few of the words they’re using.
Mahnmut did, sending them silently.
That’s a variant on classical Greek, said Orphu. It’s in my database. I can understand them.
Upload the database to me, sent Mahnmut.
On tightbeam? said Orphu. It would take an hour. Do you have an hour?
Mahnmut turned his head to watch the beautiful humanoid males barking syllables at each other. They seemed near a decision. No, he said.
Subvocalize what they say to me and I’ll translate, we’ll decide the proper answer, and I’ll send back the phonemes for your response, said the Ionian.
In real time?
Do we have a choice? said Orphu.
Their captor was speaking to the bearded figure on the gold throne. Mahnmut sent on what he heard, got the translation within a fraction of a second, consulted with Orphu, and memorized the syllables of their response in Greek. It hardly seemed efficient to the little moravec.
“. . . it is a clever little automaton and the other objects are worthless as plunder, my lord Zeus,” said the two-and-a-half-meter-tall blond god.
“Lord of the silver bow, Apollo, do not dismiss such toys as worthless until we know whence they came and why. The balloon you destroyed was no toy.”
“Nor am I a toy,” said Mahnmut. “I came in peace and did not trespass intentionally.”
The gods did a collective double take and murmured amongst themselves.
How tall are these gods? sent Orphu on the tightbeam.
Mahnmut described them quickly.
Not possible, said the Ionian. The human skeletal structure begins to be inefficient at two meters of height, and three meters would be absurd. Lower leg bones would break.
This is Martian gravity, Mahnmut reminded his friend. It’s the worst g-field I’ve ever experienced, but it’s only about a third Earth-normal.
So you think these gods are from Earth? asked Orphu. It hardly seems likely unless . . .
Excuse me, sent Mahnmut. I’m getting busy here.
Zeus chuckled and sat forward on his throne. “So the little toy person can speak the human language.”
“I can,” replied Mahnmut, getting the words from Orphu, although neither moravec knew the proper honorific for the god of all gods, the king of the gods, the lord of the universe. They’d decided not to try.
“The Healers can speak,” snapped Apollo, still addressing Zeus. “They cannot think.”
“I can speak and think,” said Mahnmut.
“Indeed?” said Zeus. “Does the speaking and thinking little person have a name?”
“I am Mahnmut the moravec,” Mahnmut said firmly. “Sailor of the frozen seas of Europa.”
Zeus chuckled, but it was a deep enough rumble to vibrate Mahnmut’s surface material. “Are you now? Who is your father, Mahnmut the moravec?”
It took Mahnmut and Orphu a full two seconds of back and forth tightbeaming to decide on the honest reply. “I have no father, Zeus.”
“You are a toy then,” said Zeus. When the god frowned, his great, white brows almost touched above his sharp nose.
“Not a toy,” said Mahnmut. “Merely a person in a different form. As is my friend here, Orphu of Io, space moravec who works the Io Torus.” He gestured toward the shell and all divine eyes turned on Orphu. It had been Orphu’s insistence to reveal his nature. He said that he wanted to share whatever Mahnmut’s fate would be.
“Another little person, but this one in the form of a broken crab?” said Zeus, not chuckling now.
“Yes,” said Mahnmut. “May I know the names of our captors?”
Zeus hesitated, Apollo remonstrated, but in the end the king of the gods gave an ironic bow and opened his hand toward each god in turn.
“Your captor, as you know, is Apollo, my son. Next to him, doing much of the shouting before you joined our conversation, is Ares. The dark figure behind Ares is my brother Hades, another son of Kronos and Rhea. To my right is my wife’s son, Hephaestus. The royal god standing next to your crab-friend is my brother Poseidon, called here in honor of your arrival. Near Poseidon, with his collar of golden seaweed, is Nereus, also of the deep. Beyond noble Nereus is Hermes, guide and giant killer. There are many more gods . . . and goddesses, I see . . . coming into the Great Hall as we speak, but these seven gods and I shall be your jury.”