Pyramid Scheme by Dave Freer and Eric Flint

“Throttler. This war. It has not raged across Aeaea, has it?” asked Medea in a small voice.

Throttler gave her a smile. “Your children are safe, Medea of Colchis. I was there looking for you not two days ago. The wars ravage Thrace and Boeotia. You ‘Americans’ even have some of your own loyalists sitting in Asia Minor, in Mytilene on Lesbos. They’re a sorry lot. All the real warrior gods and goddesses have gone in with the pyramid scheme.”

Jerry took a deep breath. “You say the—’Krim,’ is it?—are actually there in Myth-Greece? I suppose we should call it Ur-Greece. Anyway, they’re present in Ur-Greece—but whatever is here in Egypt is merely some sort of servant. Well, I hate to say this because I’ve actually learned to do some ‘spells’ here and I’ve got some degree of power, but I think we should go back to Ur-Greece and take on the masters not the servant. If we can.”

Throttler shrugged her enormous wings. “I can take you back. I’d have to do a couple of trips, mind you. I’m strong but I can’t manage all of you at once.”

“And me, little cousin?” Harmakhis rumbled tectonically. The huge sphinx sounded as if it found the idea quite funny.

Throttler shrugged. “I’m afraid you’d have to walk.”

“It’s all right, little cousin,” said the huge living-stone sphinx. “I was only teasing because you were boastful of your strength. I think I’ll stay here, and organize resistance against this pyramid. It has too many sides. We should rather buy Egyptian.”

The Greek sphinx muttered something. But she muttered it very quietly.

Jerry turned to the others. “Well? What do we do? I’m for returning to ancient Greece.”

Medea looked at him curiously, as if really seeing him properly for the first time. “I, of course, wish to go home to my children. Back to Ur-Greece. But you, Doc Jerry, are the proof that appearances lead to deceive. You are the slightest of all of these Americans, yet you are the one who is most ready for battle. A battle against Olympus itself.”

“What about me, then?” demanded Bes, sticking his tongue out at her. “I’m smaller than him and I’m even more ready for a fight.”

Medea stuck her own tongue out at the aggressive bandy-legged dwarf. Knowing her children were reasonably safe had eased some of the small lines of tension about her face. Knowing that she could return to them had made her near radiant. Anibal Cruz was staring at her with the intensity of a man who has just moved from an infatuation to love. “I’m with Medea,” he said gruffly. He was rewarded with a hug.

But the sorceress was in a chaffing mood. “Bes, you would fight the tide! Anibal, you are a warrior. But that’s not the point. Bes loves to fight. Doc Jerry does not. But he will. Even though it means surrendering his power as a magician. Here he is very powerful. In my—what did you call it, Ur-universe—he is a man, who is not a warrior, going to challenge the might of Olympus. Here in Egypt the might of the mind and the words is great. Greater than the sword. Where he is going, the sword has far more power.”

Jerry looked excessively uncomfortable. “I know a lot about the myths. I can probably work things out. And somebody’s got to try and stop this thing. They don’t seem to be having much luck with stopping it in Chicago. Maybe, just maybe, we can do something from the inside. I may not manage it, but I’ll give it a try.”

Liz laughed. “Yes. Lamont wants to talk to you about a few of the things you worked out and tried. Anyway, count me in.”

Jerry gave her a shy thumbs-up. “It’s a pity that we can’t count on that lethal shoulder bag of yours anymore.”

Liz shrugged. “The only one who didn’t lose nearly everything was Cruz. I don’t know why Bes should find his rucksack and yet not discover the ‘lethal weapon.’ Lamont lost that precious boombox of his, too.”

McKenna rubbed his itching scalp. A thin red fuzz was sprouting. “He’s got room to complain. The guy’s born lucky. He got to be the only man in a harem, while the rest of us got fed to the crocs. I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”