become redundant but hasn't been removed from the statute books. It was drafted to allow the mobilisation of British armed forces without parliamentary authority in the event of a Soviet nuclear strike.'
'Mobilise them to do what?'
'Anything they like, more or less. In this instance, move on Olympus.'
Sam saw Zeus's mouth drop open. 'Preposterous! They can't. Why would they do that?'
By way of answer, Argus pulled up footage of a trim, grey-haired old soldier holding an impromptu press conference at an airbase, surrounded by a jostling mob of reporters all yelling, 'Sir Neville! Sir Neville!'
'It's a nettle that needs to be grasped,' Field Marshal Armstrong-Hall said, 'and now seems to be the time to grasp it. People at home should rest assured that this is not, I repeat not, a declaration of martial law. Parliament is only being pre-empted, not supplanted. This is military action against an outside power, in retaliation for an attack that took place on British soil a few weeks ago — an attack that was, in my view, no less disruptive and impactful than a nuclear warhead would have been. I am simply doing now what the vast majority of the British public wish to be done and what our elected representatives, shirking their democratic mandate, have stubbornly refused to do. I regret that it's come to this. Since Bleaney Island I have been holding frequent behind-the-scenes meetings with Mr Bartlett, urging him to harden his stance towards the Olympians, but frankly I've been wasting my breath. Now, at a time when the Olympians have been proved to be vulnerable, and after an example has been so bravely and tragically set to us by these Titans, now is the moment to be decisive and take action of the kind that, God willing, has a decent prospect of success.'
'There's more,' Argus said. 'The Americans are offering logistical support. The US Joint Chiefs of Staff have issued a statement in the past hour backing Armstrong-Hall.'
At the Pentagon, a much-medalled general at a podium was addressing a rowdy press pack. It was 11pm Eastern Standard Time.
'We're pledging the Brits all of our Chinooks,' the general drawled in iron-edged Texas tones, 'plus ordnance, body armour, because we know how underequipped those fellas can be in that department, and last but not least the use of our one remaining aircraft carrier — the Nimitz — class USS Prometheus, which happens to be in the eastern Atlantic even as we speak, just off the Straits of Gibraltar — as a floating command post and field hospital.'
'General! General! General!' the reporters cried.
'That's as much materiel as we can spare for now,' he continued, 'but we'll be keeping a weather eye on things, and should the situation alter radically we'll be prepared to maybe escalate our involvement further.'
'What about the President?' somebody shouted.
The general's gimlet eyes glinted. 'What about him?' he said, dismissively, and quit the podium amid a blitzkrieg of camera flashes.
'The Japanese navy is sailing back this way,' Argus said, 'and there've been reports of other nations putting their armed forces on a state of high alert.'
'How could this all have sprung up so suddenly?' said Zeus.
'The pressure has been building for some while. If the internet is anything to go by, the global consensus has steadily been turning against us.'
'Yes, I was aware of that, but I assumed that would die down eventually. It normally does.'
'But it seems to have come to a head instead,' said Argus. 'And if you think you're having trouble believing what Armstrong-Hall has done, take a look at Mr Bartlett.'
A late-night emergency session at the Commons. A harassed Bartlett was standing at the despatch box, trying to make himself heard above a House packed with restive, baying MPs.
'Mr Speaker, I would ask Sir Neville, beg him, to reconsider. He — he is knowingly endangering — knowingly endangering the Great British public. If he persists in these actions, it will place this country in the firing line. He cannot go down to Greece. He cannot position troops on the territory of — on the territory of another sovereign nation without their consent. That is a violation of international law. More than that, it's sheer folly, and I will not stand for it!'
The cry, Sam thought, of an impotent man. Bartlett knew there was nothing he could do but bluster and remonstrate. He'd been undermined by events. The ground beneath his feet was crumbling. He had become a victim of his own lily-liveredness.
'Can we all not just — ' Bartlett went on, but the rest of what he had to say was drowned by massed bleating from the ranks of the Honourable Opposition, Shadow Cabinet and backbenchers alike.
'Baa!' they all went, 'Baa! Baa!' taunting him like playground bullies, until the Prime Minister had no choice but to drop back into the seat behind him and sit there with his arms crossed, red-cheeked and fuming.
Argus said, 'Other communications chatter I've been intercepting suggests that paramilitary organisations are throwing their hats in the ring as well. The Resistenza Contru-Diu Corsu, to name but one.'
Galetti! He'd told Sam the RCDC owed the Titans a debt of gratitude. Now, if a little late to be of direct benefit to them, it seemed he was going to pay it.
'And the Agonides are podcasting about sourcing themselves weapons and volunteering.'
Zeus rubbed his brow hard. Outside, distantly, thunder growled.
'Here,' he said. 'They're coming here.'
'RAF planes have already touched down at Larisa and Tanagra airbases. The Greek government hasn't granted them permission, but the Hellenic Air Force hasn't lifted a finger to turn them away.'
'Fellow travellers. They're in on it too.'
'Not against it, certainly.'
'Don't these people understand?' The thunder crackled louder, sharper, clearer. 'They'll never win. They cannot.'
'It's your own fault,' said Sam.
Zeus swivelled round. 'Excuse me? Who asked your opinion?'
'Nobody, but I'm going to give it to you anyway. You Olympians have brought this on yourselves, by killing the Titans. You made martyrs of them, and if there's one thing people love, it's a martyr.'
'But we've killed countless others over the years. What makes the Titans so different? Why were they — you — special?'
'Because we hurt you,' Sam said. 'We did what no one else had done and showed there were chinks in the Olympian armour. That raised us in people's estimation. We gave the world what nobody else had been able to before — hope. You stamped down on us and crushed us out of existence, but it was too late. Hope's a pesky thing. You only have to think of Pandora. Hope won't stay in the box. Once it's out, it's out, and nothing you can do will put it back in or stop it spreading.' She was mangling the myth somewhat but Zeus didn't seem to notice.
'But what good is this hope, if all it's going to do is create thousands more martyrs?'
'That's not the point, is it? People have been inspired to rise up against you again, en masse. And if they die, that's likely to inspire still others. Hope's like that.'
'I do not accept this!' Zeus shouted, and a thunderclap detonated right overhead, making the chamber shake. Zigzags of static fizzed across all of Argus's screens, and the images on some rolled upwards, vertical hold lost.
'O God Of Gain, if you wouldn't mind,' said Argus, sounding pained. 'You're interfering with my signals…'
Zeus's eyes blazed. Sam wondered if she hadn't pushed him too far.
Then, slowly, he calmed. His jaw unclenched. The storm abated.
'Lay siege to Olympus then, would they?' he said. 'Well, let them. Let them come. Let them try. All they'll find here is nemesis, divine retribution. Argus, keep abreast of events, figure out how long we've got until the first troops reach our doorstep. I'm going to call together the Pantheon. We need to discuss strategy. But before that — Sam.' He grabbed her roughly by the arm. 'You are coming with me.'
67. THE SHRINE OF APOTHEOSIS
This is it, Sam thought as Zeus frogmarched her out of Argus's lair. It's over. I'm done.
A formal execution? Perhaps. Ares with his axe. A beheading. Or maybe Zeus would opt for something slower
