Ben Bova: Vengeance of Orion

Zeus waited until I stopped struggling. The Golden One lay gagging and coughing on the dried-blood ground, leaning on one elbow, his other hand touching his throat. I saw the purple imprints of my fingers there and I was only sorry that I hadn’t been allowed to finish the job.

“We asked you to find him for us, not murder him,” Zeus said, his sternness struggling against a satisfied little smile.

“I found him for myself,” I said. “And when he refused to revive Ath… Anya, I knew he deserved to die.”

Shaking his head at me, Zeus said, “No one deserves to die at the hands of another, Orion. That is the ultimate lie. Can’t you see that he’s mad? His mind is sick.”

New fury surged through me. “And you’re going to help him? Try to cure him?”

“We will cure him,” said the lean-faced Hermes. “Given time.”

He knelt over the fallen Apollo and touched him with a short metal rod that he had taken from his tunic pocket. The welts around the Golden One’s neck faded and disappeared. His breathing returned to normal.

“Physical repairs are the easiest,” Hermes said, rising to his feet. “Repairing the mind will take longer, but it will be done.”

“He wanted to kill you — all of you,” I said.

Hera replied, “Does that mean we should kill him? Only a creature thinks that way, Orion.”

“He killed Anya!”

“No,” said the Golden One, climbing slowly to his feet. “You killed her, Orion. She became mortal for love of you, and she died.”

“I loved her!”

“I loved her too!” he shouted. “And she chose you! She deserved to die!”

I strained against the men holding me, but they were too many and too strong. Even so, Apollo dodged backward, away from me, and Zeus stepped between us.

“Orion!” he snapped. “To struggle against us is pointless.”

“He said he could revive her.”

“That was his madness speaking,” said Zeus.

“No it wasn’t!” the Golden One taunted. “I can revive her! But not for him. Not so that she can give herself to this… this… creature!”

“Bring her back to me!” I screamed, straining uselessly against the four who held me.

Hera stepped before me, her taunting smile gone; instead her face was grave, almost sympathetic. “Orion, you have served us well and we are pleased with you. But you must accept what must be accepted. You must put all thoughts of Anya out of your mind.”

She reached up and touched my cheek with the tips of her fingers. I felt all the fury and tension drain out of me. My body relaxed, my rage subsided.

To Hera I said, “Put all thoughts of her out of my mind? That’s like teaching myself not to breathe.”

“I feel your pain,” she said softly. “But what’s done cannot be undone.”

“Yes it can!” the Golden One snapped. He laughed and glared at me. Zeus nodded at Hermes, who gripped him by the shoulders. The burly redhead I called Ares also stepped close to the Golden One, ready to restrain him if necessary.

“I could do it,” he said, his eyes wild. “I could bring her back. But not for you, Orion! Not so that she can embrace a creature, a worm, a thing that I made to serve me!”

“Take him back to the city,” said Zeus. “His madness is worse than I thought.”

“I’m not the mad one!” Apollo ranted. “I’m the only sane one here! The rest of you are crazy! Stupid, shortsighted crazy fools! You think you can control the continuum and save yourselves? Madness! Nothing but madness! Only I can save you. Only I know how to keep your precious necks out of the noose. And you , Orion! You’ll never see Anya again. Never!”

The murderous rage was gone from me. I felt empty and useless.

Hermes began to lead the Golden One away, with brawny Ares following behind. Zeus and the others began to fade, shimmering in the double sunlight like a desert mirage. I stood alone on the strange world and watched them slowly dissolve from sight.

Just before he disappeared, the Golden One turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Look at you, Orion! Standing there like a forlorn puppy. No one’s going to bring her back! There’s only the two of us who could, and I’m not going to, and you don’t know how!”

He howled with laughter as he faded out and disappeared with the others, leaving me alone on a strange and alien world.

IT took several moments for the meaning of the Golden One’s words to sink home. “No one’s going to bring her back! There’s only the two of us who could, and I’m not going to, and you don’t know how!”

I could return Anya to life. That’s what he had said. Was it merely a taunt, a final cruel slash intended to tantalize me? I shook my head. He is mad, I told myself. You can’t believe anything he says.

Yet he had said it, and I could not get it out of my mind.

I gazed around the alien landscape and realized that if I was to have any chance at reviving Anya, I had to be back on Earth to do so. Closing my eyes, I willed myself to return. I thought I heard the Golden One’s mad laughter, ringing in the farthest distance. Then it seemed that Zeus spoke to me: “Yes, you may return, Orion. You have served us well.”

I felt an instant of cold as sharp as a sword blade slicing through me. When I opened my eyes I found myself back in the great pyramid, in the burial chamber of Khufu.

Drenched with sweat, I lurched against the gold-inlaid sarcophagus. Every part of me was exhausted, body and mind. Somehow I dragged myself down the spiraling stone stairway to the underground chamber where Hetepamon waited.

The fat priest was kneeling before the altar of Amon. He had lit all the lamps in the tiny chamber. Pungent incense filled the room as he murmured in a language that was not the Egyptians’ current tongue.

“…for the safety of the stranger Orion, O Amon, I pray. Mightiest of gods, protect this stranger who so resembles your beloved Osiris…”

“I am back,” I said, leaning wearily against the stone wall.

Hetepamon whirled so quickly that he lost his balance and went down on all fours. Laboriously, he lifted his ponderous bulk to his feet.

“So quickly? You’ve barely been gone an hour.”

I smiled. “The gods can make time flow swiftly when they want to.”

“You accomplished your mission?” he asked eagerly. “You have fulfilled your destiny?”

“This part of it,” I said.

“Then we can leave?”

“Yes, we can leave now.” I glanced up at the statue of Amon standing above the altar. For the first time I noticed how much it resembled the Creator I knew as Zeus, without his trim little beard.

For the next several days we sailed up the Nile, Hetepamon and I, heading for the capital. Prince Aramset expected me there. Menalaos and Helen were there; they would be reunited before I returned. At least, I thought, she will live in the comforts of Egypt. Perhaps she will be able to teach her husband some of the arts of civilization and make her life more bearable.

Nekoptah awaited us, too. I had no idea of how Aramset would deal with him. The king’s chief minister would never give up his power willingly, and the prince seemed terribly young for this game of court politics. I was glad that Lukka headed his personal guard.

But thoughts of them merely buzzed somewhere in the back of my mind as we sailed up the busy river. My eyes saw towns and cities glide by, monuments towering along the water’s edge, farms and orchards being worked by naked slaves. But my thoughts were of Anya and the Golden One’s taunting words.

Did I have the power to revive her? If so, how could I learn to do it when none of the other Creators knew how?