"I will," she said. "We'll go to Italy—and I'll give him perpetuol."
Thetis went to her cabin. Shortly afterward, the doorbell rang. She opened the door and saw Apollo.
Smiling, he said, "I have something here you might be interested in hearing." He held in his hand a small cartridge.
Seeing it, her eyes widened in surprise.
"Yes, it's a recording," he said, and he pushed past her into the room. "Let me put it in your playback."
"You don't have to," she replied. "I presume you had a microphone planted in Hephaistos' cabin?"
"Correct. Won't your father be angry if somebody sends him a note telling him you're planning to ruin the Script by running off to Italy with a barbarian? And not only that but inject perpetuol into the barbarian to increase his life span? Personally, if I were your father, I'd let you do it. You'd soon grow sick of your handsome but uncouth booby."
Thetis did not answer.
"I really don't care," he said. "In fact, I'll help you. I can arrange it so the arrow that hits Achilles' heel will be a trick one. Its head will just seem to sink into his flesh. Inside it will be a needle that will inject a cataleptic agent. Achilles will seem to be dead but will actually be in a state of suspended animation. We'll sneak his body at night from the funeral pyre and substitute a corpse. A bio-tech who owes me a favor will fix up the face of a dead Trojan or Greek to look like Achilles'. When this epic is done and we're ready to leave Earth, you can run away. We'll not miss you until we're light-years away."
"And what do you want in return for arranging all this? My thanks?"