Menelaus only then saw that the ornamented sarcophagus was an active one. Its alert lights were gleaming softly, and to either side of the prow, snub muzzles were poking from gun blisters to the left and right like the eyes of a chameleon.

Menelaus waved Illiance back, but the little man ignored (or, more likely, did not understand) the gesture, and kept walking forward. The Blue Man glided up the dais, and around the coffin to approach the throne. The sarcophagus weapons twitched but did not open fire.

Illiance, with no sense of private space or standing on dignity, sat down cross-legged at the stern man’s feet, his nose almost touching the man’s knees.

The man raised a hand and beckoned Menelaus. With a wary eye on the sarcophagus, Menelaus walked around it and stepped forward, his metallic robes slithering and jingling. He halted again and gave a stiff-armed open-palm Chimerical salute.

A twinkle of amusement appeared in the man’s eye, and he also held out his hand in the same form of salute. “Seig Heil,” he said sardonically.

3

The Court of Ages

1. Justice High and Low

Menelaus stared in confusion at the bewigged man, who, sternness gone, was observing him with a raised eyebrow, a look of relaxed good humor on his features.

“Sprechen SieDeutsch?” asked Menelaus.

“Nein. Sprechen Sie Spanisch?”

“Sí, hablo español muy bien,” said Menelaus.

The man laughed shortly, and replied, “No tan muy bien. Usted tiene un acento del gringo. ¿Usted habla Inglés?”

Menelaus looked astonished, and answered, “I reckon I do.” He spoke with a thick Texan accent.

The man had a milder version of the same accent: a Dallas accent rather than the accent of a rural county. He spoke in a voice of quiet dignity and power, saying, “My wife—is she yet returned? The time—is the aeon for which I await yet come?”

Menelaus took a step back, his face blank and expressionless. “Who are you, sir?”

“I am the architect, founder of the biosuspension hibernation Tombs here and throughout the world,” said the other, his face once more set in stern, hard lines. “I am the sole owner and director of the Endymion Syndicate. Those who have dared to trespass on my place of rest shall endure retaliation, I assure you. My name is Menelaus Illation Montrose.”

Even if they did not understand the rest of the sentence, the Blue Men understood the last three words. The chamber rustled with echoing murmurs of surprise, in which a note of victory could be heard.

Menelaus looked back at Mentor Ull. The weary old eyes, for once, did not seem dead, but were lit up and glistering with something like hunger. Menelaus, through his implants and nodes, detected a power surge in the large bracelet Ull wore above his elbow. It was an instrument, not an ornament. But whatever it was, it was not active yet: it was warming up.

“Now that you know of me, tell me of you. Who is the Interactor?” the throned man said sharply, as if annoyed that Menelaus had turned his back. Menelaus turned quickly to face him again, and saw the man nod his bewigged head down at Illiance.

Interesting. The word interactor was from the Twenty-sixth Century. It referred to someone with cybernetic neural implants, that is, someone able to interact directly with an infosphere.

“One of our captors,” said Menelaus. “His name is Illiance. Your Tombs have been broken open and looted, and the people and systems set to guard them are compromised, captured, or dead. We who are your clients are their prisoners, and as soon as they get what they want of us, we are to be killed—but you do not seem worried.”

“I am in the stronghold of my power, and have allies both seen and unseen. Tell them I command to know of them what they want.”

Menelaus said, “I can answer for them. They seek the Judge of Ages.”

“And who is that?”

Menelaus kept a straight face, and said, “They all say the Judge of Ages is the man named Menelaus Montrose, the posthuman. Yourself, in other words.”

“And you say something else, I take it?”

“I am not saying much of anything at the moment, but you can interpret my silence as a sort of skeptical silence.”

“Silence is wise. In that case, they may address me as the Judge of Ages. That title will serve, for now. As for you—what name do you go by?”

“High-Beta Sterling Xenius Anubis of Mount Erebus, from A.D. 5292.”

The Judge of Ages did not laugh, but his eyes twinkled. “Captain Sterling?”

“My rank is Corporal.”

“Of course it is. Clear ether and hot jets, Captain Sterling! Any sign of the Atom Monster from Mercury? Tell me. In A.D. 5292, was everyone named after a character from a boy’s adventure series from the Second Dark Age? Or just you?”

“Well, I could been named Montrose, after a starfarer from the Second Space Age, but that name was already taken. I understand it gets used a lot.”

“I am glad we respect each other’s privacy. But I do not doubt you are Captain Sterling, because your companions come from similar futurist cartoons. I see you brought along the Masterminds of the Moon, a group of Musketeer wolfmen, some Insectobots.”

“The bald blue dwarfs wearing logic crystals on their coats are our captors, and the Moreau dogs are the prison guards. The automata are digging machines looted from your facility at Saint Nevis Island, brought here to dig up coffins. Anyone else you see later will be a prisoner. I hope to bring them all into this chamber.”

“Which one of the masterminds is most master?”

“The leader is named Ull. The one whose eyes look like they were pried out of the skull of a dead snake, that’s him.”

The Judge of Ages said, “And how much English do they understand? Not much, I take it?”

Menelaus said, “Let’s assume the conversation is being recorded and will be analyzed later.”

The Judge of Ages nodded, and said, “I saw them come alert when I said the name Montrose. Have I put the lives of the Thaws in danger?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Since there are clients of the Hibernation Syndicate who have been unlawfully meddled with, the danger must be put to rest before I go to my rest once more.”

“If you can think of an excuse to get me next to the sarcophagus, I can aid your effort, Your Honor,” said Menelaus very softly.

In a rustle of his scarlet sleeve, the Judge of Ages now held aloft his dark sword.

“Oyez! Tell all who have need to approach, and I will administer justice swift and terrible to those in need of justice, both high and low of birth, both thawed of old and current of year. Tell this Ull, and his people, that he and his are jointly and severally liable to whatever penalty this hearing shall determine. Repeat to them my words, and ask of him first why he dares disturb my slumber.”

The throned figure pointed with his dark glassy sword toward the sarcophagus. “Captain Sterling, I appoint you my bailiff. Administer the oath. There is a Bible in the footlocker of my sarcophagus, just in case any of them are civilized men, but I will accept their affirmation if they are not.”

2. The Motive

Menelaus turned and translated these comments to the Blue Men, most of whom were still on the far side of the fountain, looking on with what seemed expressions of aloof academic interest. Their instinctive sense of position was simply odd: people in his day would have crowded forward to hear more clearly. He wondered if the technology in their gems, which could put information directly into curious eyes and ears, had long ago habituated these members of a cybernetic culture to stand any which where, since they could point a sensor and get a clearer view than walking and peering would give.