Pyramid Scheme by Dave Freer and Eric Flint

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.

“Anything that can go wrong, will,” murmured Prometheus. Then he turned to the assembled group. “Who is in the basket first?”

“Me,” said Jerry stepping forward.

“And me,” said Arachne and Medea together.

“I must secure the tunnel,” said Arachne.

“Right. Jerry and Arachne first,” said Prometheus. “You see that you keep warm, Arachne.”

They went up, unwinding the huge spool of spider-web tube. Every hundred feet or so Prometheus paused to allow Arachne to secure the tube with sticky threads. It was a sickening, bumpy process, as the basket dragged against the cliff wall. It all nearly ended in disaster, too.

They could see the summit. And the basket hooked. And Prometheus just kept on pulling. Somehow, as the basket tipped, Jerry managed to grab the remains of the spool while clinging to the handle. Then the basket sprang free, leaping on rope stretched at least twenty feet. Jerry lost his grip on the handle. And fell.

He landed back in the bouncing basket, with a pulse rate of about two hundred.

But there was worse to come. When they finally arrived at the top, there was Bes. McKenna. Cruz.

No Liz. Jerry’s heart nearly stopped. “Wh—where’s Liz?” he stammered out, his voice high-pitched.

“She’s having a scout around,” said Cruz. “Just back that way. Be careful. Bes found this interesting hole. We nearly lost him down it.”

Jerry set off hastily and found Liz some thirty yards off. She was on hands and knees, peering at Bes’ “interesting hole.” Jerry restrained a strong and irrational inclination to kick her down it for frightening him so.

She looked up and smiled. He forgave her instantly. “I’ve solved the mystery of Olympus’ pleasant climate. Feel the air coming out of there. It’s a geothermal vent.”

“They always say necessity is the mother of invention,” he said cheerily, his heart full of lightness.

She groaned. “Jerry, I could kill you. Punning at this stage.”

“Well, it was that or give you a hug,” he said bravely.

“That’s what I call unfair persuasion,” she said, giving him the hug instead. “I must stink. Can’t be nice to be near.”

Jerry grinned. “The joys of civilization. Cigarettes, coffee and deodorant.”

Liz grinned back. “I could use the last two. But do you know it’s been nearly two whole weeks since I had a smoke?”

Bes wandered over. “The first spiders have come up.”

* * *

Prometheus, he who had stolen fire from the gods and taught man its use, tended this fire with great care. It must produce an even, steady heat. Enough to inflate a long, tubular and insulated chimney. The little spider parachutists entered it in a steady stream higher up. Then with silken thread parachutes they drifted up to the heights of Olympus. The tube had been designed to retain heat. It was still a long, long way. And the balance between too much heat and too little was tricky. There were several million spiders to do the trip.