Pyramid Scheme

by Dave Freer

  They landed together in a flurry of squawks, yells and flapping wings. By the time Jerry and Liz got there, the gull had clumsily fluttered free. With a derisive final squawk and last vicious peck, it expressed its heartfelt opinion of all nest molesters. The piece of physical opinion landed with a white splat on the rock ten inches from Lamont's head.

  Lamont sat up, amid their anxious entreaties. He waved a rueful handful of feathers. "I thought I had us a bird for dinner." He held out the other hand. In it was a mottled egg, miraculously intact. "All I got was the egg."

  "Well, now we know which one comes first." Jerry waved his hand in front of his nose. "Phew. Fish!"

  "Yeah. I think I need to wash. Jeeze, that thing made some holes in me."

  "There's a nice deep spot next to where I was fishing." Liz cleared her throat, looking shamefaced. "Um. I think I've just lost the fishing line and that hook you made me, Lamont."

  "And I've lost all those mussels I gathered." Jerry inspected the older man. He looked, miraculously, none the worse for the fall. "You've got all the luck. If it had been me, I'd have dashed my brains out."

  "That might have stopped you punning for ten minutes," said Liz dryly.

  * * *

  Most of Jerry's mussels had indeed washed away. But, to their amazement, Liz's line was still visible. It was tangled around the seaweed on a wave-washed rock, a few yards off the shore. "I'll get it," said Lamont. "I need to wash this stuff off anyway."

  It was not hard to get free, and Lamont did get his wash. He also got a fish.

  "I don't believe it! I've got a fish! I've got a fish! I never catch fish!"

  It was a monumentally ugly fish. Black and large-mouthed.

  Liz snatched the line, allowing the fish back into the water. "Careful with that thing! It looks like sea catfish. Their spines are toxic." She led it through the water back to the shore, and dispatched it expertly with a piece of driftwood.

  "Pity we can't eat it," said Lamont, admiring his catch from a good safe distance. "That's the only fish I've ever caught. Never had much luck fishing."

  Liz looked puzzled. "They're nice eating. You've just got to avoid the spines."

  They were so busy admiring the catch of the day, that they failed to notice the arrival of Hermes.

  * * *

  As Lamont later said, it was a pity—because it was worth watching.

  The pictures of the winged, sandaled and helmeted messenger are well known. Only . . . well, as Liz later said—it was asking rather a lot of very small wings.

  "Why are you not going to the castle of Circe?" demanded Hermes, messenger of the ancient Greek gods, while rubbing his jaw with both hands.

  "How come you can speak English?" demanded Jerry in reply.

  Hermes looked down his long nose at the mythographer. "Is it not written that 'the gods, after all, can do anything.' Come. I must give you the moly, the herb which will protect you from the goddess Circe, so the legend can be fulfilled."

  "But what . . . "

  "Enough talking. My jaw hurts from that cursed helmet." Hermes led the way to the forest margin where he pulled up an herb and handed it to Jerry. "This will protect you. It is called 'moly.' And when she offers her favors to you, you must not refuse. Now I must go. I am needed in Boeotia."

  Hermes took up a stance as if running. The wings on the sandals began to flap furiously. So did those on the helmet. When they'd reached hummingbird speeds, Hermes took off and flew away rather like an oversized bumblebee.

  Jerry stared at the herb in his hand. "There is something wrong with all this," he said quietly.

  "You're telling me! There is no way that should be able to work. He's just too damn big for those wings."

  "No. I mean with this." Jerry held out the herb.

  "Looks like wormwood," said Liz, inspecting it.

  "Well, it's supposed to be 'moly.' But that is supposed to have a black root and a milk-white flower. The authorities more or less agree it was some species of alliam."

  "Allium," corrected Liz. "The onion family. Like that wild garlic."

  Jerry cocked his head sideways. "So why did he get it wrong? And the instructions he gave me weren't complete."

  "I thought he said you were to bed Circe," said Liz. Her smile was a little tight-lipped.

  Jerry flushed. "Yes . . . That is what he is supposed to have said to Odysseus. But first he had to make her swear by the gods not to try any more tricks on him. Whatever is going on is trying to make the legend happen. And it's cheating. It wants Circe to bespell us."

  * * *

  The Krim device had no teeth to grind in frustration, or it would have ground them. The humans must believe. Their legends must enmesh them. Yet these ones were filled with doubt. They must be killed. They must be removed from the Ur-legend dimension. But these once-human gods were amazingly intransigent. Just like this species. Obstinate and doubting.

  19

  Get a bigger hammer.

  Miggy Tremelo blew desperately on his too-hot coffee. Caffeine he must have before he talked to anyone. He sipped cautiously, slurping off the top. Then he picked up the phone and called Colonel McNamara of the 82nd. "The men who were in the advance group. Are they being used today?"

  There was a pause. "Yes. We've tried to redeploy them away from the snatch zone."

  Tremelo took a deep breath. "Colonel, I want to ask you to undo that. Let me explain. The more I think about it the more convinced I become that the alien device is selecting people of a certain type. If they weren't selected yesterday they won't be selected today. I could be wrong; but the only way we'll ever know is to offer it the same choice."

  There was a silence on the other end of the line. Then: "You're asking me to use my men as guinea pigs?"

  Miggy saw no point in trying to deny it. "Yes. I'm afraid so."

  There was another long silence. "Very well. But you'd better not be wrong."

  "Pull them out the minute one disappears. Get them out of the five-hundred-meter perimeter."

  "It's gone up to 673 meters," said McNamara grimly. "At least."

  Tremelo sighed. "And the device has increased in size by steady incremental jumps. The whole west wing of the Regenstein has pretty much collapsed around it. Won't be long, at this rate, before the whole building is nothing but rubble." He ran fingers through his gray hair and then asked abruptly: "How did the satchel charges work out, by the way?"

  There was another silence from the other end of the line. "You weren't supposed to know about that."

  "I have infrasound and ultrasound monitoring teams on the site, Colonel, with the best equipment in the world. I could probably have listened to playbacks of the combat engineers' conversation. Besides, the NSA told me."

  It was McNamara's turn to sigh. "We lost two men. Snatched from inside the tunnel. And the explosives had no effect at all on the pyramid. But you probably know that already."

  "Yes. But I'd like a couple of my men to examine the debris and have access to information about the volume of the explosive. We can learn quite a lot from that."

  "Be my guest. Of course, I'm not supposed to tell you we did this."

  Tremelo chuckled. "I won't tell the NSA if you don't."

  * * *

  After he hung up the phone, Miggy stared at the mass of paper on his desk. It was the small hours of the morning and he'd been up since the small hours of the previous morning. His eyes kept refusing to focus. The U.S. government's mobilization was in full steam now. Midway had become a military base, for all practical purposes, and the streets of South-Central Chicago rumbled with Army vehicles.

  And the new troops were losing about one man in ten the moment they crossed the invisible barrier which the troops were starting to call the "snatch zone." Most of the snatchees—87%—came back dead almost immediately. Which was just about the same "snatch" and casualty rate as that suffered by the initial group of paratroopers.

  All except for that one group. They lost only two people, right
at the beginning. Since then—all six of them are still unaccounted for.

  He peered blearily at the paper sitting right in front of him. The leaden prose had official document stamped all over it.

  IMMEDIATE

  FM: CJCS WASHINGTON DC//

  TO: USCINCJFCOM NORFOLK VA//

  USCINCSOC MACDILL AFB FL//

  USCINCSPACE FALCON AS CO//

  HQ NORAD CHEYENNE MT CO//

  USCINCTRANS SCOTT AFB IL//

  HQ ACC LANGLEY AFB VA//CC//

  HQ USFORSCOM FT MCPHERSON GA//

  * * *

  "And on and on," muttered Tremelo. "Christ, is there anyone they didn't mobilize?" He scanned through to the end of the list of recipients—USCINCPAC HONOLULU HI, for the love of God!—and got to the meat of the thing.

  • * *

  •

  BT

  SECRET SECTION 01 OF 01

  SUBJ: HASTY RECEIVER EXECUTE ORDER //

  S E C R E T

  OPER/HASTY RECEIVER//

  MSGID/SYS.RRM//

  REF A/DOC/NATIONAL SECURITY DIRECTIVE 346//

  REF B/ORD/HASTY RECEIVER OPERATIONS ORDER//

  REF C/LOI/JOINT OPERATIONS PLANNING AND EXECUTION SYSTEM (JOPES) LETTER OF INSTRUCTION (LOI)//

  GENTEXT/IMMEDIATE EXECUTION OPERATIONS HASTY RECEIVER

  1. (U) IAW NCA DIRECTION REF A, SECDEF ORDERS ALL ACTION ADDRESSEES TO BEGIN IMMEDIATE EXECUTION OF OPERATION HASTY RECEIVER. USCINCJFCOM IS DESIGNATED SUPPORTED CINC AND WILL ACTIVATE STANDING JTF. FALLING ANVIL PHENOMENON LOCATED WITHIN HYDE PARK DISTRICT, CITY OF CHICAGO. UPON RECEIPT OF THIS MESSAGE, ALL ILLINOIS NATIONAL GUARD AND AIR NATIONAL GUARD UNITS ARE NATIONALIZED UNDER THE COMBATANT COMMAND (COCOM) OF USCINCJFCOM AND WILL ASSEMBLE AT NORMAL DUTY LOCATIONS. IAW PUBLIC LAW SUPPORTING REF A, POSSE COMITATUS RESTRICTIONS ARE LIFTED WITHIN HASTY RECEIVER AREA OF RESPONSIBILITY (AOR).

  * * *

  "Well, that's something useful, anyway," Tremelo growled. "At least we won't have every damn soldier dancing around scared to death he's violating the law by telling a civilian to get the lead out. What few civilians are still left in the area."

  * * *

  2. (U) JTF/CC WILL GIVE CONSIDERATION TO LOCATION OF FALLING ANVIL PHENOMENON WITHIN CITY ENVIRONMENT IN TAILORING DEPLOYED HASTY RECEIVER FORCES. DETERMINATION OF C-DAY AND REQUIRED DELIVERY DATES (RDD) IS AT THE DISCRETION OF JTF/CC. JTF/CC WILL REPORT ON TAILORED FORCE PACKAGE AND C-DAY/DEPLOYMENT TIMING ASAP. IAW REFS B AND C, UPON IDENTIFICATION BY JTF/CC, TAILORED HASTY RECEIVER UNITS WILL PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE DEPLOYMENT USING MOST EXPEDITIOUS MEANS. USTRANSCOM AND COMPONENTS WILL PROVIDE SUFFICIENT AIR MOBILITY AND RAIL ASSETS TO DEPLOY AND SUSTAIN HASTY RECEIVER FORCES. TRANSPORTATION PRIORITY IS 1B1, FORCES IN IMMINENT CONTACT WITH ENEMY. EXCEPT FOR AS DETAILED IN REF B, ANNEX D, LOGISTICAL SUPPORT WILL REMAIN IN NORMAL SERVICE CHANNELS.

  3. (S) STRATEGIC FORCES WILL MAINTAIN NORMAL READINESS AND REMAIN UNDER NCA OPERATIONAL CONTROL (OPCON). OPCON OF ALL TACTICAL AIR AND NAVAL FORCES WILL REMAIN UNDER USCINCJFCOM UNTIL OTHERWISE DIRECTED BY SECDEF. INDIANA NATIONAL GUARD AND AIR NATIONAL GUARD WILL REMAIN UNDER STATE OPCON UNTIL OTHERWISE ADVISED.

  4. (U) UPON DEPLOYMENT, JTF/CC IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE FOLLOWING ACTIONS:

  A. (S) USE ALL AVAILABLE EXPERTISE TO EVALUATE NATURE OF FALLING ANVIL PHENOMENON. ASSESS AND REPORT ON THREAT PRESENTED BY FALLING ANVIL PHENOMENON TO US NATIONAL INTERESTS, CITIZENS, AND PROPERTY.

  B. (U) IAW REF B, ANNEX R, ESTABLISH CONTIGENCY OPERATIONS REPORTING PROCEDURES.

  C. (S) PROVIDE RECOMMENDATION ON EXTENT OF HASTY RECEIVER AOR.

  D. (U) ASSUME TACON OF LOCAL LAW ENFORCEMENT, STATE NATIONAL GUARD, AIR NATIONAL GUARD AND LOCAL COAST GUARD ASSETS WITHIN THE HASTY RECEIVER COMMAND AOR.

  E. (U) IDENTIFY AERIAL PORT OF DEBARKATION(S), RAILHEAD(S), AND LINES OF ROAD MARCH REQUIRED FOR THE DEPLOYMENT OF HASTY RECEIVER FORCES.

  F. (U) USE NATIONAL GUARD AND AIR NATIONAL GUARD ASSETS UNDER TACON TO IDENTIFY AND PREPARE SUITABLE LOCATIONS FOR RECEPTION, SUSTAINMENT, ORIENTATION AND INTEGRATION (RSO&I) OF DEPLOYING HASTY RECEIVER FORCES.

  G. (U) IN KEEPING WITH PERCEIVED THREAT, USE DEPLOYED HASTY RECEIVER FORCES TO ESTABLISH DEFENSIVE PERIMETER AROUND FALLING ANVIL PHENOMENON.

  H. (S) IN COOPERATION WITH FEMA, STATE, AND LOCAL AUTHORITIES, EVACUATE ALL CIVILIAN PERSONNEL FROM WITHIN THE HASTY RECEIVER AOR.

  J. (S) IAW REF B, ANNEX C, PREPARE ALL UNITS UNDER TACON TO COUNTER OR NEUTRALIZE THREAT POSED BY FALLING ANVIL PHENOMENON.

  * * *

  5. (U) UNDER THE PROVISIONS OF REF A, ALL ACTION AND INFO ADDRESSEES ARE ADVISED TO ACTIVATE HASTY RECEIVER CRISIS ACTION TEAMS. RETRANSMIT TO SUBORDINATE COMMANDS AS REQUIRED. FURTHER MESSAGE TRAFFIC TO FOLLOW AS SITUATION DEVELOPS. ENDTEXT//

  SECRET

  Tremelo laid the paper down. "All of which," he grumbled, "is a lot of fancy official verbiage which translates: get a bigger hammer."

  He lowered his head and ran fingers through his thinning gray hair. "Ain't gonna work, fellas. I don't think there's a hammer in the world big enough to crack this nut."

  Tremelo was convinced, more and more with every passing moment, that the key to unraveling the mystery of the alien pyramid was subtlety, not brute force. Several things stood out to him. The first was the peculiar selectivity of the pyramid—towards those it snatched, and those who survived the snatching. The other was the obvious time dilation involved in the snatching.

  The dead were coming back, on average, about two hours after having been snatched. Yet the physiologists said that the evidence pointed to the victims having been gone at least twenty times as long as the actual time. They'd first noticed it by the beard growth on the "returned" soldiers. A man who vanished clean-shaven, and came back sporting a two-day growth in a couple of hours was quite an obvious clue to differential time rates.

  They were obviously dealing with a level of technological sophistication which could even manipulate space-time. So how much chance was there that the application of force to the pyramid was going to accomplish anything?

  But what was particularly striking to Tremelo was that the victims usually seemed to have been killed in the most barbaric and primitive of ways. Miggy pushed back his hair. That was what was frightening him. Not the alien device itself, but the fact that no one knew what the hell it was doing . . . except expanding slowly. He took a pull at a cold cup of coffee.

  What was worrying the military was that they seemed to be unable to do a pinprick's worth of damage to the device. Tremelo knew there were more combat engineers burrowing underneath it again. He hoped that the Pentagon would at least consult him before they tried anything extreme. His team, now working on one corner of the pyramid, had exhausted most conventional options already without having any effect on what Tremelo was certain was not a material at all.

  Someone knocked. But Tremelo didn't hear them. He'd fallen asleep, his face against the paper he'd been reading.

  PART IV

  Of remedies of love she knew perchance,

  For she could of that art the oldë dance.

  —Geoffrey Chaucer,

  The Canterbury Tales

  20

  Misleading Medea reports.

  McKenna looked like a pleased schoolboy as he jogged up to Jerry. "We've got us a buck. Cruz is just butchering—oh, shit."

  This time nobody had to tell anybody to run away and climb a tree. But it hardly mattered. A lion can be escaped by climbing a tree. But this thing—

  Only the body of the creature was lionlike, tawny and immense. The sphinx also had wings. Huge wings. And the head and breasts of a woman—and the facial expression of a woman in an extremely bad temper.

  Lamont happened to be in the nearest tree. She bellowed at him—in classical Greek.

  "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon and three at night. And don't tell me you've heard it before! I am sick to death of humans telling me they've heard it before!"

  Of course, Jerry was the only one who knew what she was saying. "Uh,
Lamont . . . "

  The sphinx swiveled her massive head. "Shut up, you! If I wanted you to answer, I'd have asked you. Any more interruptions and I'll eat all of you for cheating." She turned on Lamont again. "You don't know, do you? At last! It's throttling and gobbling time."

  * * *

  Lamont closed his eyes and dug through his eclectic collection of snippets of memory. Desperately. He knew what this monster was, and he even knew that it asked riddles. He could guess that he was being asked one, and he was pretty sure he knew which one it was. He even knew the answer to the damned thing!

  What he didn't know was ancient Greek.

  He cleared his throat. Twice. Then: "Er . . . Homo."

  "What? Erhomo? No, sorry." The fact that the huge female face was actually rather attractive made the lip-smacking particularly horrible.

  "I wonder what flavor you are, with that dark skin? Well, I guess all humans taste much the same." It began to advance towards him. "Besides, I've always had a fancy for exotic foods."

  Lamont wracked his brains frantically. He realized now that he'd used the Latin term for "man." What was the Greek term?

  The Anthropology Department.

  "Anthropo!"

  "What?" The sphinx paused her advance.

  Jerry desperately drew an "S" in the air.

  "Anthropos!" yelled Lamont.

  The sphinx covered its head with its wings. Stamped its paws in frustration. The great talons ripped the soil like so many plows.

  Lamont breathed deeply, knowing that he was off the hook. But his mind was still racing. "Hey, Jerry! Offer it a new riddle for its help."