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.”
“Jury?” said Mahnmut. “My friend Orphu of Io and I have committed no crime against you.”
“On the contrary,” said Zeus with a laugh. He switched to English. “You’ve come in from Jupiter space, little moravec, little robot, most probably with mischief in your heart. It was my daughter Athena and I who brought down your ship and I confess I thought you all destroyed. You’re tough little abominations. But let this be the end of you today.”
“You speak this creature’s language?” Ares demanded of Zeus. “You know this barbarian tongue?”
“Your Father speaks all languages, God of War,” snapped Zeus. “Be silent.”
The massive hall and many mezzanines were filling up quickly with gods and goddesses.
“Have this little dog-man-machine and the legless crab taken away to a sealed room in this hall,” said Zeus. “I will confer with Hera and others who have my ear, and we will decide shortly what to do with them. Take the other two objects to a nearby treasure room. We shall evaluate their worth by and by.”
The gods named Apollo and Nereus approached Mahnmut. The little moravec debated fight and flight—he had a low-voltage laser on his wrist that might surprise the gods for a second or two, and he could run quickly on all fours for short distances, perhaps scurry out of this Great Hall and dive into the caldera lake to hide in its depths—but then Mahnmut glanced over at Orphu, already being lifted effortlessly by four unnamed gods, and he allowed himself to be lifted and carried out of the hall like a big metal doll.
According to Mahnmut’s internal chronometer, they waited in the windowless storage room for thirty-six minutes before their executioner arrived. It was a big space, with walls of marble six feet thick and—Mahnmut’s instruments told him—embedded forcefields that could withstand a low-yield nuclear explosion.