Pyramid Scheme by Dave Freer and Eric Flint

“Oh, definitely,” said Jerry, hoping that he wouldn’t have to answer for his own deeds soon.

Thoth moved the adjustment chain. The two pans balanced.

“Let the deceased depart victorious,” intoned Osiris.

“What happens to me now?” asked the justified Captain Halstrom’s Ka.

Mac had listened to Jerry’s briefing on the journey up the Nile. “Don’t worry, Captain Shrink. You’ll get to do lots of nice physical outdoor field labor in Osiris’ kingdom. Raising crops, digging ditches, good healthy outdoor work. And if you’re feeling lazy you can send in the watchamacallems. Doc?”

“Ushabtis,” said Jerry.

“Yep. Them.” Mac stretched. “You send them out as your substitute. They’re like little doll-things that you put a spell on and they do all your work. Sorta like Egyptian afterlife grunts. It’ll be a piece of cake. Just think of yourself as an REMF, which oughta come naturally enough.”

Halstrom looked confused. “Where do I get them?”

Jerry gave a wry smile. “They’re supposed to be buried with you. Egyptian belief is the opposite of ‘you can’t take it with you when you go.’ ”

Halstrom looked even more confused. “Er. My body disappeared. The embalmers were a bit taken aback . . . ”

Just then Lamont wove his way up to them. He seemed to have sobered up considerably. “Listen, guys. If we can slip out for a minute, Anubis cornered me when I went out. He says he’s organized a meeting with Min, or something like that, who is Pan back in Greece. Apparently he can get us back, possibly even home. Travelers are his domain. We’re supposed to go and meet him in his temple.”

The Army psychologist’s shade looked in need of counseling. “Can I come with you? I really don’t like an outdoor lifestyle. I’ve always lived in the city. Don’t leave me here,” he begged, looking as if he’d start shedding ghostly tears at a moment’s notice.

Jerry shrugged. “I’ve no idea whether that will be allowed. But you’re welcome to tag along as far as we’re concerned. You’ve been judged. You’re free to go. Of course you may not be popular with Osiris. I gather it’s been a while since he’s had any new labor.”

Liz had come up. “This Min—who is she?”

“He,” corrected Jerry. “He’s a very ancient god. He was called the ‘Lord of Foreign Lands.’ And as our ‘sorceress from Nubia’ just told us, the god of travelers as well as fertility. It sounds hopeful, doesn’t it?”

Liz nodded. “So what does this one look like? Does he have the head of a goat? Heaven knows how their digestive systems worked. Or is this the head of a politician on a human body?”

Jerry swallowed. “Human. With two tall feathers sticking up from the headdress. And er . . . Well, you’ll know him when you see him,” he said uncomfortably.

“Well, not being female, he can’t be another one of these topless waitresses,” said Liz. “It’s discrimination, that’s what it is.”

Jerry blushed. “No, it isn’t. He’s your equal-opportunity male flasher.”

Lamont gave a very unladylike shout of laughter. “He’s not the one from gallery three, is he? The one that was removed because of the complaints back in the fifties?”

Jerry nodded. “The same.”

Lamont chuckled. “Nearly fifty years later that section of papyrus is legend. They say that most of the complaints came from men who felt pitifully inadequate . . . ”

“Ha. That describes most of them,” said Liz to Medea. “Come on. My curiosity is killing me. Anyone know where we’re going?”

“It’s supposed to be pretty unmistakable,” said Lamont. “There’s a stele with snakes and crocodiles and an ugly sort of dwarf on it, under the portico next to the cliff. Then according to Jackal-face, we just follow the lights.” He stumbled. “Damn it! How do you walk in this stupid thing?”

“Take smaller steps,” Liz advised the swaying Lamont.

He tried and tripped over his feet. “Why the hell did I ever let you get me into this thing?”

McKenna grinned. “Because you didn’t have a lot of choice, that’s why. Look—that must be the whatsit. Stele. The dwarf is pretty unmistakable. He looks cheerful enough.”