Wheeler took the helmet in trembling hands. "Go ahead," Mr. Avery urged. "It won't bite you." It wasn't fear, though, that made him hesitate. He had wanted this moment for so long, and now it was here!
The Averys' basement was getting rather crowded. Jacob and Noah and Nancy each dangled in their cybersuit, surrounded by cables and computer equipment. The whole downstairs den had been transformed into an arcade of sorts, and it spilled across the basement into Mr. Avery's workspace. He had patched his own equipment into the cybersuits, and spent the whole night poring through the old printouts and diagrams from the Morrison's attic, muttering to himself and typing away on his computer. And then, to Wheeler's amazement, he had disassembled the cybersuit in Karl's basement, brought it over to his house, and reassembled it around the boy's wheelchair.
"Noah, do you still have that horse?" Mr. Avery called out.
Noah's gleaming cyberhelmet nodded. Inside that helmet, of course, the scene was very different. He stood with Jacob and Karl in the camp of the Spartan army. They were surrounded by tents, weapons, banners, and brawny warriors. Spartans marched, rather than rode, into battle, but they had a few horses to carry loads—and one of these, snorting and stamping, was curvetting in tight circles around Noah. "Hurry up, Dad!" he shouted.
Mr. Avery turned back to Wheeler. "Go ahead, son," he repeated. "It sounds like Noah's got a stallion on a short leash over there. They're all waiting on you." Wheeler lifted the helmet over his head.
Mr. Avery turned to the green and white screen of an old data monitor. A tangle of wires connected it to the cybersuit and Mr. Avery's own computers. As Wheeler latched the helmet under his chin a stream of characters poured down the screen. Mr. Avery's finger hovered over the break button. He watched, hawk-like, and then pounced; striking the break key, his fingers then flickered over the keyboard. Wheeler found himself in the void of infinite night, and watched the swirling colors come together into the city of Olympus. He heard the voice thunder, "Olympus, where the gods dwell with men!" But before the voice could tell him that all must begin at the bottom, Mr. Avery emitted a satisfied grunt and hit the "enter" key. Suddenly Wheeler's scenery changed. Instead of hovering a thousand feet above the majestic city, a crowded army camp swam into view. He barely had time to see the snorting, furious stallion in front of him before something indescribable happened.
Noah was watching it, and he tried to describe it to his father, later. "First, something shimmered right in front of me. I guess it must have been Wheeler but the outlines were too blurred to tell. Then the horse started shimmering too, and they kind of ran together. It was like when a TV show breaks up and then clears out again. It wasn't blurry, exactly, it just moved so fast you couldn't see what was what. And then, there he was! I just didn't expect him to be so—big!"
And big he was. Whatever software surgery Mr. Avery had performed, the top half of Wheeler had to be much larger than life to fit on the body of a Spartan war-horse. Wheeler, as a centaur, was enormous. His head was a good eight feet above the ground, built with the proportions of a giant. Noah suddenly realized, looking at his bare chest and shoulders, what massive muscles it took to push a wheelchair everywhere. Wheeler's upper arms were as thick as young trees, and the muscles on his back and shoulders bunched and rippled as he moved.
Jacob whistled, "Wow, I'm glad you're on our side," he exclaimed.
Karl was shocked, and a pang of something like jealousy went through his heart. He had prided himself on his own Olympic physique. Who was this kid Wheeler and how did he rate? Karl recognized the face from the mall; he had always felt mild pity and contempt for that crippled kid at the arcade. But that crippled kid was a force to be reckoned with now. Wheeler spoke, and his voice was deeper, lowered an octave by the sheer size of his chest and larynx. "There's no time to lose, guys," he stated. "Which way is Athens?" Noah pointed down the road they had been following. "Any idea how long a march it is from here," Wheeler asked.
"They say it's about two more hours until we can see the city," Noah replied.
"Well, I should be able to run that in an hour or less," answered the centaur. "I'll try to keep them off balance so that you can take them by surprise." He turned toward the road to go, but nothing happened. For a moment, anxiety replaced the confidence on his face.
Noah said, "Voice commands!"
"Voice commands? Oh, I get it. Gee," Wheeler said to himself, hesitantly. The stallion's body wheeled to the right. A smile broke out on Wheeler's face, and he leaned his body forward, "Giddy-up." Sparks flew in all directions as the stallion thundered down the road.
But he hadn't a prayer of keeping the Athenians off guard. Signal towers mounted on the mountaintops were flashing messages up and down the Isthmus of Corinth. The Athenian spies had detected the Spartan army early on, and the city was bustling with preparations to receive unwelcome guests. When the centaur thundered over the crest of the hill above Athens, he saw a city ready for war. His heart sank, "Whoa," he said to himself. His stallion's body pulled up to a stop. "Hey, Mr. Avery," he called out. "You need to see this."
Mr. Avery got up from his workbench where he had been tinkering with patches to the Mythologen operating system. He peered into the monitor on Wheeler's cybersuit. "Oh dear," he exclaimed. "So much for the element of surprise. Noah! Jacob!" he called out. "Looks like the Athenians know you're coming."
Jacob and Noah looked at each other at the head of their marching army. "Karl," they called, "get over here."
Karl hustled over, and listened in frustration as Noah relayed Mr. Avery's information about the Athenian preparations. "It's gonna be tough," he said, grimly. "Those Athenians have a lot of tricks up their sleeve. They're famous for them."
"Well, we're better off than we could be," Noah answered mildly. "They may have their signal towers but we've got a video camera looking right down on their camp. We ought to be able to do something with this."
Karl thought about the young giant of a centaur and nodded. "Let's use him to the max," he suggested. "Let's send him right into Athens itself."
"What good will that do?" Jacob protested.
"What harm will it do?" Karl retorted. "He can't do any good all alone against the city. Might as well see what we can get out of him." The thought crossed his mind that he wouldn't care if the centaur was eliminated, but that wasn't really relevant to their strategy.
Mr. Avery bit his lip. He explained the strategy to Wheeler, who winced, but then nodded. "He's probably right," he agreed. "I may be able to do more from inside."
"A Trojan Horse," Mr. Avery chuckled.
Wheeler brightened. "Yeah," he said, "sounds good." Mr. Avery relayed Wheeler's decision to the others, and they resumed their march. Wheeler commanded his hooves to get moving, and he cantered down the slope toward Athens.
"Ahoy!" he thundered, racing toward the city. "Danger, danger, the Spartan army is approaching!" He galloped up to the city gates, heavily guarded by Athenian soldiers. He stared at them with wild eyes, chest heaving. "A great army is approaching," he shouted, "the Spartan army! There are thousands and thousands of soldiers. They're coming this way!"
The guard looked at him suspiciously. He had never seen a centaur in the game before, it seemed odd that one would show up just at that moment. "Who are you?" he asked fiercely. "State your business."
"I'm a centaur," said Wheeler, stating the obvious. "I have magical powers, like all centaurs. This morning I awoke with a dread and a horror of great darkness. I rose and sought the signs in the stars before dawn. You don't know how to read signs in the heavens, do you?" he asked, in the superior tone that only a magical centaur can quite master. The soldier shook his head. "The omens were unmistakable. Mars was opposed to Venus, and an owl, (the symbol of this city!) flew low and in distress. I knew then that Sparta was on the move, that a maiden was at stake, and that Athens was in danger. I came at once to warn you."
"Wow," said the soldier, "that's neat!" Wheeler looked closely at him. The video arcades were packed with such thirteen-year-olds, he thought. It was shocking to think that Athens was depending on vidiots for its defense. "Take me to your leader!" Simon thundered.
"Yeah, sure, you bet!" the guard answered. He waved Wheeler through the crowd of guards under his command. (Wheeler looked carefully at them, and deduced that most of them were the computer-generated characters.) The young officer led the centaur through the gleaming streets of Athens to a majestic marble palace. Wheeler clattered up the great stone steps and entered the throne room of Lord Peter. The officer at the door stepped up to bar their way, but one look at Wheeler left him gasping. "A centaur!" he exclaimed. The young officer from the city gates nodded vigorously.
"I'll bet Lord Peter wants to see him," he blurted out. "He's got news about the Spartan army!"
The palace guard scratched his head and bit his lip. "I don't know," he answered. "Lord Peter's in there with that girl.... I don't know if he wants to be disturbed."
"Hey, maybe he hasn't noticed, but there's a war on," shot back the other. "His love life will have to wait."
"Careful, officer, that's mutiny!" the palace guard snapped.
The younger officer cringed. "Yeah, right, whatever," he sputtered. "I didn't mean it. I mean—yes, sir! Request permission to leave, sir!"
"Oh, okay, get out of here," said the palace guard. "And as for you," he continued, turning to Wheeler, "how do you introduce a centaur?"
"Oh, just the usual," answered Wheeler. "A simple 'Simon the Centaur, Seer of Things Hidden, Prophet and Sage, desires an audience with Lord Peter."
"Sure, sure, whatever," mumbled the palace guard. "Come on in."
Lord Peter was, in fact, alone with Nancy, but it was hard to find anything romantic about their relationship. She was chained hand and foot, and a good thing, too. The throne room was littered with broken bits of pottery and the other movable objects that she had been able to reach. Lord Peter was nursing a bump on his forehead and a wry expression on his face. "Oh, there you are, guard," he called out as the door opened. "I don't really need defending, but I was hoping for a witness to my demise. And what's this?" he exclaimed, standing up with real interest as Wheeler entered the room. "A centaur. My heavens, a centaur in Olympus!"
"Simon the Centaur," announced the guard. "Serious something or other."
"Seer of Things Hidden," corrected Wheeler, sternly.
"Yeah, that's it," the guard went on, "Prophet, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme—"
"Just Prophet and Sage," hissed Wheeler.
"Yeah, right, desires an audience...." He stopped and looked at Wheeler. "Desires an audience?"
Wheeler snorted in frustration. "Desires an audience with Lord Peter," he finished. He bowed gracefully.
Nancy stared, wide-eyed. Could this be the kid in the wheelchair? The voice was so much deeper; but the eyes were just as intense and intelligent. And the rest of him—she blushed, and turned modestly away. So much flesh! Of course, one couldn't exactly expect a centaur to wear a coat and tie. Still, it hardly seemed decent.
Lord Peter was amused and puzzled. "I declare," he exclaimed, "I've been playing this game for what seems forever, and I had begun to be bored with it. But in one week's time, things have certainly picked up!" He stepped down from the throne and walked up to Wheeler. He paced around him two or three times, examining him from every angle. "So, Centaur, Prophet, and Sage, what brings you to Athens?"
Wheeler tried to look transcendental. He didn't really know how a prophet looked, but he could do a fair imitation of the priest back home. It was impressive. His eyes rose toward heaven, and he lifted his arms as if all heaven lay at his fingertips. "Spartans!" he intoned. "I have seen their spears and banners. Marching! Marching on Athens. You must prepare!"
Peter snorted. "Well, we knew that without any prophets. Athenian technology tells us most of what we need to know."
"Has it told you why they are coming?" gambled Wheeler.
"Why?" Lord Peter responded. "Well, no. No particular reason. I'd assumed the boys in Sparta were simply looking for action."
"Never assume!" thundered the centaur. He lowered his eyebrows, the way the priest did when he was denouncing sin. "She is the one!" He pointed a mighty arm and accusing finger at Nancy.
"Me!" she squeaked. She hoped Lord Peter was just a little bit as awed as she was at this transformed Wheeler.
"Her?" queried Lord Peter, amused. "What does she have to do with this?"
"She is the one," Wheeler breathlessly intoned. "Take her now, and flee with her, while there is yet time to save the city."
"Save the city?" laughed Peter. "Well, that's hardly a problem. Those Spartans are no match for us.
Wheeler lifted his eyes upwards. "O Athena, Athena," he intoned, "have mercy on your people." Then he spun round on Peter. "Those whom the gods would destroy," he thundered, "they first make mad. What madness compels you to risk all for her?" He looked contemptuously at Nancy.
"Her?" Peter asked. "She is nothing. A slave girl I picked up recently. I wouldn't risk a worn sandal for her. But it's the principle of the thing, man."
"Centaur," Wheeler corrected.
"It's the principle of the thing," Lord Peter laughed. "I don't run from Spartans. Period."
Suddenly there was a flash, and a crackle, and a cloud of greasy smoke. A vortex of burning brimstone appeared from nowhere, and sparks spiraled up and out of it in all directions. When the smoke cleared, a tall man all in black was in their midst. He glared at Peter. "Danger!" he croaked. "We are all in danger! Your city is in peril!" Then he caught sight of Wheeler out of the corner of one eye. He turned, and stared, astonished. "You!"
Wheeler was equally amazed. "Father!"