Mercury Begins (Mercury Trilogy) (5 page)

He found himself trying to think of a way
out – some way of making peace between the Greeks and the Trojans. It would be easy enough to keep the Greeks locked up inside the horse, but then what? Eventually, if he didn’t let them out, the Greeks would start calling for help. And then the Trojans would know they had been tricked, and they would
break into the horse and massacre
the Greeks. Even if Mercury could somehow keep one side from slaughtering the other, the result would be an impasse – just another chapter in the endless stalemate between Greece and Troy. Mercury would get fired and the Bureau would hire someone else to finish the job. Presumably that’s what
Uzziel
had in mind anyway: he would
pin
the failure
of the Greek attack on Mercury, explain that his inadequate personnel budget had forced him to hire subpar agents, and get approval for a new round of expenditures aimed at coaxing the Greeks into destroying Troy.
Mercury sat for hours, going over every possibility, but there was no good solution.

At midnight he got up and unlatched the door in the horse’s belly.
A horrendous stench like the stale body odor of a hundred Greek soldiers poured out of the hatch, followed by the soldiers themselves. “Ugh,” Mercury muttered, waving his hand in front of his face. “And I thought it smelled bad on the
outside
.”

The men spread out to set fires and wreak other sorts of havoc. “Where
do you think you’re
going?”
Mercury
demande
d of one man, who seemed to be running toward the city gates rather than into the city proper.

“I’m supposed to le
t the rest of the Greeks inside,” the man replied.

“The
rest
of the Greeks?”
Mercury asked, confused.
“I thought we were it.”

“
Nope
.
There’s a whole bunch more guys waiting outside.”

Mercury’s brow furrowed. “But if we’re letting people in, why didn’t we just put one guy in the horse, rather than risking the lives of a hundred? Hell,
I
could have opened the gate. What did we even need the horse for?”

The man shrugged.
“Theatrics?” he offered.
Mercury waved him away, shaking his head.
This had to be the most insanely convoluted attack plan in the history of warfare. Even if the sack succeeded, this “Trojan Horse” was going to go down in history as the perfect example of bureaucratic idiocy run amok. Mercury had seen this sort of thing before, on a smaller scale: one
dimwit
comes up with a terrible idea, and everybody is so
eager to get on board with it that nobody bothers to
work
out whether it makes any damn
ed
sense. Mercury would be lucky if he didn’t get transferred to Transport and Communications – or worse – after this debacle.
Serves me right, he thought, caressing the caduceus.
A man ran past him screaming, holding his severed left hand in his right.

“Hey, Mercury,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Venus – now adorned in a simple white dress – standing next to a brawny, tanned
man wearing a Trojan soldier’s uniform. A sword hung at his side.

“Oh, hi,
Venus,
” said Mercury glumly. He nodded at the muscular man. “You must be Anus.”

“
Aeneis
,” corrected the man. He stared daggers at Mercury. “So I have you to thank for the destruction of my city?”
Much of the city was now in flames, and screams of agony and terror blended into a hellish cacophony.
Nearby, a group of Trojan guardsmen was being beaten back by a contingent of oily Greeks.

“Easy, my son,” said Venus gently, causing Mercury to raise an eyebrow. “The gods themselves have decreed the doom of Troy.
Don’t shoot the messenger.
”

“Whatever,” grumbled
Aeneis
.
“Nice shoes.” Mercury had changed into his winged rubbers in order to sneak quietly to the horse. The wings fluttered in the night breeze.
Mercury shifted uneasily.

“You go on ahead,
Aeneis
,” said Venus. “
You’ve got a city to found.”

“OK, Mom,” said
Aeneis
. He walked off, glaring at Mercury. “See you around,
jerkface
.”

“He’s a keeper,” said Mercury to Venus, watching
Aeneis
trudge off into the night. “What’s with the ‘mom’ stuff?”

“I may have misled him slightly,” Venus said. “He thinks I’m his dead mother. Nice job on the horse, by the way. I had my doubts, but you pulled it off with style.”

“Really?” asked Mercury doubtfully. “You think the horse was a good idea?”

“Heavens no
,
”
said
Venus. “One of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard. As far as I can tell, the horse was a completely unnecessary complication that could very well have resulted in a catastrophic loss for the Greeks. But as I said, you pulled it off with style.”

“Um, thanks?”

Venus smiled and shook her head
bemusedly
. “Let me explain something to you, Mercury. We angels don’t get much choice in the assignments we get. It’s all about the Divine Plan. Sometimes the things we have to do seem completely arbitrary, if not downright wrong. Take this sacking, for instance.
Miserable business.
Of course, some angels don’t mind. Some angels get a bellyful of warm
fuzzies
just from seeing a task through to completion, no matter how distasteful that task might be. Others – like you and me – can’t help but reflect on the ethics of the situation. We ask ourselves
,
why did Troy need to be sacked? Why did all these people have to die? What is the point of this Divine Plan anyway? How much suffering is justified by the advancement of the Plan? What if the Plan actually does more harm than good?
”

Punctuating her point, a headless body fell from a nearby building, landing with a thud in the street. The head followed a moment later.

“Oh, thank God,” said Mercury, a wave of relief washing over him. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way!”

Venus shook her head. “All of the more sensitive angels feel that way sometimes. It’s an occupational hazard.”
She regarded the decapitated form piteously.

“So what’s the answer?” Mercury asked.

Venus smiled. “Style,” she said.

Mercury’s brow furrowed.
“Style?”

“Yep,” she said. “And you, friend, have got it in spades. You’re going to go far.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“If you’ve got an unpleasant job to do, the best way to do it is with style. I
mean,
this business with the horse, getting the Trojans to work their asses off to drag a bunch of greasy Greeks right into the heart of Troy. That is
style
. That kind of thing will get you noticed.
Not to mention the crazy snake-staff and the shoes with wings on them.
”

“They’re called rubbers,” Mercury said.

“Fine.
Your
crazy snake-staff and your rubbers. The point is
,
p
eople aren’t going to forget you around here anytime soon.
”

“But… how is that an answer to all those nagging questions? How do I know I’m doing the right thing?”

Venus
laughed
. “You’ve missed the point completely.
You don’t have any control over
what
you do. You’re given a job, and you have to do it. The only thing for you to figure out is
how
you’re going to do that job. Are you going to do it by the book, dotting
the I
’s and crossing the T’s, or are you going to do it with some creativity and panache?
In other words,
with
style
?
If you have enough style, you can almost make yourself forget about that
constant
existential doubt that
gnaws at
your soul.
” She slapped Mercury on the shoulder. “
Anyway,
gotta
go make sure
Aeneis
isn’t getting into any trouble. I’ll put in a good word for you with
Uzziel
. Expect a promotion.
See
ya
!
”
With that, Venus vanished into the night.

Mercury made his way out of the city
alone
, making his way up a hill where he could get a better view of the city. As he trudged up the slope, someone jumped out from behind a boulder, startling him. The figure’s long white beard shimmered in the moonlight.

“H
i
,
Dave
,” said Mercury
when he recognized the man
.
“You missed all the excitement.”

“Did it work?” Daedalus asked anxiously.

“It worked,” replied Mercury. “Better than it had any right to, actually.”

“Yes!” Daedalus cried, pumping his fist in the air. “I’m back! This is the best thing I’ve done since the Labyrinth of the Minotaur. Man, I can’t wait to get started on my next project. I’m thinking some sort of amphibious assault vehicle.”

“
Dave
, listen to me,” said Mercury, stopping and putting his hand on the old man’s shoulders. “No more weapons, OK? Build something productive.
Something inspiring.
It would mean a lot to me if you could do that.”

Daedalus thought for a moment. “Well, I’d still like to get those shoes to work. Imagine, a human being flying like a bird!”

“I like it,” said Mercury. “But I don’t think the shoes are going to cut it. You need bigger wings. It’s basic aerodynamics. Maybe strap wings to the arms.”

Daedalus frowned. “I
dunno
. The wings get pretty heavy. I have to use pitch to hold the feathers on.”

“Easy,” said Mercury. “Use wax.”

“Wax?
Is that safe? Won’t it melt in the sun?”

“Nah.
It should work fine. Don’t test it on yourself, of course. Find a monkey or something.”

“Got it!
Thanks, Mercury.” With that, the man hobbled away down the hill.

Mercury climbed to the
crest
of the hill
and climbed atop a boulder
where
he could get a better view of the
spectacle
.
Much of the city was aflame, and the sight was oddly beautiful
. The fighting seemed to have all but ceased
. Looking down from his vantage point
,
the city seemed
eerily peaceful.

“Style,” murmured Mercury. Was that really all there was to it? The sun was just peeking above the horizon, and the morning star glinted reassuringly in the east. But soon harsh light of dawn revealed the true horror of the evening’s carnage. Many of the city’s buildings had been reduced to ruins. T
he Greeks were corralling men, women and children in the center of the city. Many of them would be taken as slaves, hauled in chains aboard the Greek ships that now sat anchored just off the shore. The rest would be killed, or simply left to die.
A seagull alighted next to Mercury. “
Keeyaah
,” it said.

Mercury nodded. “There’s just no getting around the
keeyaah
, is there?”
he asked the bird, which didn’t answer.
He sighed and got to his feet. He wondered how far he’d have to fly to get a beer around here.