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Eric Flint: Pyramid Power

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Eric Flint Pyramid Power

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"No, sir. These men are from the PSA, so I'd guess that you are also from the PSA. I'd like to know why we've been brought here, and why our families are being held hostage."

Horton slithered away from a direct answer. "You'll be told presently what your mission is-and the term 'hostage' is ridiculous, Sergeant. Your people are simply under protective custody." He leaned forward a bit, apparently striving for a menacing aura. "I just want to clarify one thing before I send you off to be briefed. Even the lowest agent here outranks you. If I hear of any more problems, or disrespect, you could just be spending several years in the stockade at Fort Leavenworth. Do you understand me?"

Cruz didn't reply. His muscles just tensed. For the first time in his military career Mac decided that it was time to bail his senior buddy out. Deflect fire. "Yes, sir. Can we send a message to our families?"

"No. You're strictly incommunicado." He waved a hand at one of the suits. "Take them to Agent Supervisor Megane."


Agent Supervisor Megane looked like a dodgy used-car salesman. In a suit, rubbing his hands as he talked. Still, it was an improvement on being in the same room as Horton. At least Megane wasn't wearing sunglasses indoors.

"Our mission is one of utmost gravity and sensitivity," he said. "You're probably not aware of it, but a senior government man from the National Security Council was snatched in the early phase of the alien pyramid attack. A man by the name of Tom Harkness."

Mac remembered the name. That cop, Salinas, had wanted to tell Major Gervase about it. And Professor Tremelo had said he'd seen him get snatched. "Yeah, I heard it reported," he said.

"In the press?" demanded Megane. "That would be a serious breach of-"

"To my field commander. Major Gervase."

The agent looked taken aback. "Oh."

"We were there, remember?" said Cruz. "We were there just after it happened."

"Oh, yes," said the agent again. "I was told you that you would be our military advisors on… on matters inside the pyramid. Gentlemen, this is a Matter of National Security."

He looked like he'd been waiting to say that line for a long time, capital letters and all.

"Yeah?" said Mac, because Megane seemed to expect some sort of response.

Megane nodded gravely. "Mr. Harkness has not returned. He is too valuable a man to be left in enemy hands. Dead or alive, we need him back. He knows far too much to be left there to be interrogated."

Mac looked at Cruz. Cruz looked back at him. Cruz took a deep breath. "I don't want to rain on your parade, Mr. Megane. But the Krim never showed the least inclination to interrogate any of us. I don't think it cares."

"How the alien treats ordinary soldiers, and how it deals with a high-ranking official, is logically going to be different," said the agent condescendingly. "Your knowledge and importance in the scheme of things is pretty unimportant compared to a man like Tom Harkness."

Cruz shrugged. "I don't think that this is the sort of military-type problem you guys think it is. But I don't suppose you're listening."

"Anyway," said Mac, "I hate to break this to you, Agent Megane-"

"Agent Supervisor Megane," the PSA man said brusquely.

"Ah, right. Agent Supervisor Megane. But my point is that if your Harkness person is still inside there… well, that's just too bad. There is no way to get to him. He'll be spat out old and dead soon enough. Even if nothing in the Mythworlds kills him, time moves about five times as fast in there."

Megane blinked at him. "It just seemed that way to you, soldier. Anyway, the point is that we actually do have a way in to the pyramid. And we're arranging transport back. We need you to help us brief the snatch team, and then to guide us."

Mac looked down at his feet. The floor hadn't suddenly turned to quicksand and wasn't swallowing him up. But it felt like it.

Cruz spoke first. "With respect, Agent Supervisor Megane, I don't think you guys have done your homework. Time really does move at a different rate inside the Mythworlds, for starters. Ask the scientists."

It looked like with or without respect, this was the first time that Megane had been told that he hadn't done his homework. Mac fended off the explosion with a calming gesture. "If you read the debriefing reports, you'd know that we had to be guided around there ourselves. And if we hadn't had an expert and local help and lot more luck on our side, we'd have got ourselves killed, PDQ."

"Expert?" asked Megane.

"Dr. Lukacs," said Cruz. "He's an expert in mythology."

Megane raised his eyebrows. "He's also a civilian with a dubious security record."

Mac wondered how Jerry Lukacs had managed to get a "dubious" security record. He'd probably made a pun in the presence of an overly serious FBI agent. Or simply used too many multisyllable words in front of a PSA agent. "He's still the guy who kept us alive and beat the Krim."

"He hasn't been cleared by the PSA. He's also currently consorting with a citizen of a country that cannot be considered wholly friendly." If reading up on the technical reports was too much for this Megane fellow, checking out on people's private lives was apparently right up his alley. "You will have a team of skilled professionals to back you up this time, boys."

"Swordsmen and expert survivalists who can do magic?" rumbled Cruz. "The sort of people who can out-think gods by knowing a lot about them?"

Megane gave a lopsided smile, intended to tell them how tough he was. He slapped his chest. "Top agents. Profiled to be selected by the pyramid. I think we better go through and meet them. Then you can be properly briefed and equipped. Follow me."

He led them out of his office. Mac had a chance to say, quietly, "We're up shit-creek, Sarge."


Cruz hadn't needed Mac tell him that. It was more than obvious that these spooks had two things. The first was delusions and the second was no fricking idea what the hell they were heading for. Besides, if Cruz understood it right, then what they planned to do to get the Krim to take them, was to select the sort of guys that that Chicago police lieutenant Salinas had been. People who were credulous, among other things. Salinas himself was still somewhere in Mythological Greece, as happy as a pig in shit, because Circe had turned him into one.

But Cruz wasn't particularly worried. The trick was simply not to be in physical contact with these losers when it all happened. He just had to get the word through to Mac. He wasn't keen on explaining to the spider-girl that he'd lost the kid.

When he met the "team" and saw their equipment, he began to realize that Mac hadn't even started to guess just how far up the creek they were.

Megane held up the horse-hair plumed helmets. "The radio units are hidden inside the helmet crest. They have a transmission radius of about eight miles and we've got you about sixty hours battery life. The breastplate is high-density Kevlar. Now, handguns. We're issuing you with. 40 caliber pistols. The agents carry various other weapons, but there is no time to train you to proficiency in them."

"Like what?" said Cruz, who was curious about weapons of any description.

"Well, the spear disassembles into a hollow shaft-that's the rifle barrel-and the sword hilt covers and hides the trigger mechanism, revealed by twisting the pommel. It also holds the magazine. The block is the upper section of the blade. The stock is a folding one, fitted inside the shield as a brace. Fortunately, these Greek swords are chunky-apparently they had to be to stop them bending-but it still puts some limits on caliber. We're using the new. 177 HM rounds. Ammunition is the biggest problem, of course. So we've settled on these authentic looking packs, which have the actual fabric lined with loose rounds."

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