"You know, when Ulysses came back to his island, he discovered it had been taken over by a bunch of thugs. So he took away their weapons, locked the doors, and straightened things out. It set a good precedent.""Well, it didn't exactly happen that cleanly this time, but we did get them all. Every last one. And about half of them, you took care of yourself. One way or another.""Please," he stopped her. "Let's don't keep score. It's too depressing.""I'm not depressed. At least not about them. They came in here and murdered people right and left. They deserved whatever they got. Good riddance. The human race is better off.""That's pretty tough," Vance said. "On the other hand, whereas they claimed to be terrorists, they really were just extortionists. At least Ramirez and Peretz were. For them this was all about money. Kidnapping and ransom. So maybe you're right. The penalty for kidnapping is death. They were looking at the max, no matter what court ended up trying them.""I'd say ARM just spared Greece or somebody a lot of trouble and expense. Performed a public service.""I suppose that's one way to look at it." He smiled. "But somehow I don't think Pierre's going to get so much as a thank-you note. It never happens. Things always get confused like this at the end, but as long as he and the boys come out whole, they don't care."His voice trailed off as he studied the sea. Along the coast on either side, the pale early moon glinted off the breakers that crashed in with a relentless rhythm. Yes, a bomb had exploded somewhere up there in space, but the Aegean, even the jagged rocks around the island, still retained their timeless serenity. The Greek islands. He never wanted to leave. Right now, though, he was trying to work up his nerve to talk seriously with Dr. Cally Andros—and the words weren't coming. How to start . . .?"Are you still here?" She finally broke his reverie. "Or are you just gazing off.""Sorry about that." He clicked back. "I was thinking. Wondering if you'd still be interested in . . . in what we talked about yesterday.""What?" She looked puzzled, then, "Oh, you mean—"“Taking a sail with an old, slightly beat-up yacht-charter operator.""You're beat up, there's no denying it." She laughed. "I hope you keep your boats in better shape." She looked him over and thought again how much he reminded her of Alan. The mistake that affair represented was not one to be repeated blindly. Then again . . . "But I don't consider you old. Experienced, maybe, but still functioning.""Is that supposed to mean yes?""It's more like a maybe." She touched his hand. "What were you thinking about, exactly?""What else? TheOdysseything." He looked out at the horizon, then back. "Seems to me it deserves another try.Oh, the pearl seas are yonder,The amber-sanded shore;If you'll pardon my attempt to wax poetic."She smiled. "Plagiarist. I know that one. And I also know there's another line in it that goes,Troy was a steepled city,But Troy was far away.Far away. Get it? Or maybe it doesn't even really exist at all.""Oh, it exists all right. You just have to want to find it." He picked up a pebble and tossed it toward the surf, now rapidly disappearing in the dusk. "So what are you trying to say?""I'm saying that maybe Troy was a real place and maybe not. But that's almost beside the point. What it really is is a symbol for that something or somebody we're all looking for. Whatever special it is we each want. Like when I came here to work for SatCom. Space was my Troy. It was what I wanted. And when you tried to re-create the voyage of Ulysses, you were thinking you could make something that was a myth into something that was real. Big impossibility.""You're saying the search for Troy is actually just an inner voyage, and I got caught up in trying to make it literal. The boat and all.""Well, that's what myth is really about, isn't it? We make up a story using real, concrete things to symbolize our inner journey.""You're saying Ulysses could have sailed up a creek, for all it mattered?"'That's exactly what I'm saying." She leaned back. "Shit, I want a pizza so bad right now I think I'm going crazy."Vance was still pondering her put-down of hisOdysseyrerun, wondering if maybe she wasn't onto something. Maybe he had learned more about himself in two days on the island than he would have learned in two years plying the Aegean."All right," she said finally. "I'm sorry. I've busted your chops enough. You asked if I'd like to take a sail, and I said maybe. The truth is, I would, but I've also got a journey of my own in mind.""What do you mean?""Well, before I tell you, maybe I'd better make sure you meant it. For one thing, what are you going to sail in?""Good question." Up until that moment he had not given much thought to personal finance. The truth was, he was broke. "I don't know if I can scrape up enough money to build anOdysseyIII. It's a problem.""Well, I'll tell you what I think. I think Bill owes you at least a boat for all you did."He shrugged, not quite agreeing with her on that point. You don't pitch in to help out an old friend, then turn around and send him an invoice. "Maybe, maybe not. But in any case, it would be minus the ten grand I owe him for the bet I lost.""Come on"—she frowned—"that's not fair.""Maybe not, but a deal's a deal. Poseidon was the god of the sea, and the god of anger. This is Greece, so maybe the old gods are still around. Maybe I tempted Poseidon and pissed him off. Anyway, the sea got angry, and that's how it goes. The way of the gods. Ten big ones.""Well," Calypso Andros said, "speaking of gods, Aphrodite was the goddess of love and beauty. The Greeks were smart enough to give you a selection. So you ought to think about burning some incense to her next time. Or something. Maybe fall in love. I hear she likes that, too.""Good suggestion." He glanced over."Michael, I feel so rootless," she said finally, leaning against him, strands of hair across his shoulder. "Not close to anybody, really. Now that SatCom doesn't need my mothering any more, I want to try and start a few things over . . . and the place I want to start is Naxos.MyOdyssey."He just nodded, understanding."I want to go back to my old home," she went on, almost asad confession. "I haven't been there for over twenty years. We had such a beautiful little whitewashed house. Looked out on a bay. It was tiny, but I still sneak back there in my dreams. I want to make sure it survived.""Don't think you have to worry. The shock wave was probably well dissipated by the time it hit Paros and Naxos. Fact is, I doubt it did any real damage to any of the islands."'Then why don't we go there together? YourOdysseyand mine.""It's a done deal.""Good." She straightened, suddenly becoming businesslike. "Just as soon as we find out about VX-1. If it made orbit and if anything is salvageable. Georges should know by tomorrow morning. Then I want to split for a while.""It would do us both good. Have to. And you know, since we're definitely going to need some transportation, I think I'm getting an idea." He nodded down toward the twenty-eight-foot Morgan, pristine white, bobbing at anchor in the harbor. "Looks pretty seaworthy to me. Think Bill would mind?""With all the SatCom stock I've got now?" She reached out and touched his face. "I'll just fire him if he says a word."* * *BOOKS BY THOMAS HOOVERNonfictionZen CultureThe Zen ExperienceFictionThe MoghulCaribbeeWall StreetSamurai(TheSamuraiStrategy)Project DaedalusProject CyclopsLife BloodSyndromeAll free as e-books atwww.thomashoover.info
"You know, when Ulysses came back to his island, he discovered it had been taken over by a bunch of thugs. So he took away their weapons, locked the doors, and straightened things out. It set a good precedent."
"Well, it didn't exactly happen that cleanly this time, but we did get them all. Every last one. And about half of them, you took care of yourself. One way or another."
"Please," he stopped her. "Let's don't keep score. It's too depressing."
"I'm not depressed. At least not about them. They came in here and murdered people right and left. They deserved whatever they got. Good riddance. The human race is better off."
"That's pretty tough," Vance said. "On the other hand, whereas they claimed to be terrorists, they really were just extortionists. At least Ramirez and Peretz were. For them this was all about money. Kidnapping and ransom. So maybe you're right. The penalty for kidnapping is death. They were looking at the max, no matter what court ended up trying them."
"I'd say ARM just spared Greece or somebody a lot of trouble and expense. Performed a public service."
"I suppose that's one way to look at it." He smiled. "But somehow I don't think Pierre's going to get so much as a thank-you note. It never happens. Things always get confused like this at the end, but as long as he and the boys come out whole, they don't care."
His voice trailed off as he studied the sea. Along the coast on either side, the pale early moon glinted off the breakers that crashed in with a relentless rhythm. Yes, a bomb had exploded somewhere up there in space, but the Aegean, even the jagged rocks around the island, still retained their timeless serenity. The Greek islands. He never wanted to leave. Right now, though, he was trying to work up his nerve to talk seriously with Dr. Cally Andros—and the words weren't coming. How to start . . .?
"Are you still here?" She finally broke his reverie. "Or are you just gazing off."
"Sorry about that." He clicked back. "I was thinking. Wondering if you'd still be interested in . . . in what we talked about yesterday."
"What?" She looked puzzled, then, "Oh, you mean—"
“Taking a sail with an old, slightly beat-up yacht-charter operator."
"You're beat up, there's no denying it." She laughed. "I hope you keep your boats in better shape." She looked him over and thought again how much he reminded her of Alan. The mistake that affair represented was not one to be repeated blindly. Then again . . . "But I don't consider you old. Experienced, maybe, but still functioning."
"Is that supposed to mean yes?"
"It's more like a maybe." She touched his hand. "What were you thinking about, exactly?"
"What else? TheOdysseything." He looked out at the horizon, then back. "Seems to me it deserves another try.
Oh, the pearl seas are yonder,
The amber-sanded shore;
If you'll pardon my attempt to wax poetic."
She smiled. "Plagiarist. I know that one. And I also know there's another line in it that goes,
Troy was a steepled city,
But Troy was far away.
Far away. Get it? Or maybe it doesn't even really exist at all."
"Oh, it exists all right. You just have to want to find it." He picked up a pebble and tossed it toward the surf, now rapidly disappearing in the dusk. "So what are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that maybe Troy was a real place and maybe not. But that's almost beside the point. What it really is is a symbol for that something or somebody we're all looking for. Whatever special it is we each want. Like when I came here to work for SatCom. Space was my Troy. It was what I wanted. And when you tried to re-create the voyage of Ulysses, you were thinking you could make something that was a myth into something that was real. Big impossibility."
"You're saying the search for Troy is actually just an inner voyage, and I got caught up in trying to make it literal. The boat and all."
"Well, that's what myth is really about, isn't it? We make up a story using real, concrete things to symbolize our inner journey."
"You're saying Ulysses could have sailed up a creek, for all it mattered?"
'That's exactly what I'm saying." She leaned back. "Shit, I want a pizza so bad right now I think I'm going crazy."
Vance was still pondering her put-down of hisOdysseyrerun, wondering if maybe she wasn't onto something. Maybe he had learned more about himself in two days on the island than he would have learned in two years plying the Aegean.
"All right," she said finally. "I'm sorry. I've busted your chops enough. You asked if I'd like to take a sail, and I said maybe. The truth is, I would, but I've also got a journey of my own in mind."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, before I tell you, maybe I'd better make sure you meant it. For one thing, what are you going to sail in?"
"Good question." Up until that moment he had not given much thought to personal finance. The truth was, he was broke. "I don't know if I can scrape up enough money to build anOdysseyIII. It's a problem."
"Well, I'll tell you what I think. I think Bill owes you at least a boat for all you did."
He shrugged, not quite agreeing with her on that point. You don't pitch in to help out an old friend, then turn around and send him an invoice. "Maybe, maybe not. But in any case, it would be minus the ten grand I owe him for the bet I lost."
"Come on"—she frowned—"that's not fair."
"Maybe not, but a deal's a deal. Poseidon was the god of the sea, and the god of anger. This is Greece, so maybe the old gods are still around. Maybe I tempted Poseidon and pissed him off. Anyway, the sea got angry, and that's how it goes. The way of the gods. Ten big ones."
"Well," Calypso Andros said, "speaking of gods, Aphrodite was the goddess of love and beauty. The Greeks were smart enough to give you a selection. So you ought to think about burning some incense to her next time. Or something. Maybe fall in love. I hear she likes that, too."
"Good suggestion." He glanced over.
"Michael, I feel so rootless," she said finally, leaning against him, strands of hair across his shoulder. "Not close to anybody, really. Now that SatCom doesn't need my mothering any more, I want to try and start a few things over . . . and the place I want to start is Naxos.MyOdyssey."
He just nodded, understanding.
"I want to go back to my old home," she went on, almost a
sad confession. "I haven't been there for over twenty years. We had such a beautiful little whitewashed house. Looked out on a bay. It was tiny, but I still sneak back there in my dreams. I want to make sure it survived."
"Don't think you have to worry. The shock wave was probably well dissipated by the time it hit Paros and Naxos. Fact is, I doubt it did any real damage to any of the islands."
'Then why don't we go there together? YourOdysseyand mine."
"It's a done deal."
"Good." She straightened, suddenly becoming businesslike. "Just as soon as we find out about VX-1. If it made orbit and if anything is salvageable. Georges should know by tomorrow morning. Then I want to split for a while."
"It would do us both good. Have to. And you know, since we're definitely going to need some transportation, I think I'm getting an idea." He nodded down toward the twenty-eight-foot Morgan, pristine white, bobbing at anchor in the harbor. "Looks pretty seaworthy to me. Think Bill would mind?"
"With all the SatCom stock I've got now?" She reached out and touched his face. "I'll just fire him if he says a word."
* * *
Zen Culture
The Zen Experience
The Moghul
Caribbee
Wall StreetSamurai
(TheSamuraiStrategy)
Project Daedalus
Project Cyclops
Life Blood
Syndrome
All free as e-books at
www.thomashoover.info