By Ben Bova
This is often the tale of Lukka, the Hittite soldier who traveled throughout Greece in search of the vicious slave investors who kidnapped his spouse and sons. He tracks all of them how one can war-torn Troy. There he proves himself a warrior to rank with noble Hector and rapid Achilles. Lukka is the fellow who built the computer virus for artful Odysseus, who toppled the partitions of Jericho for the Isrealites, who stole attractive Helen--the legendary face that introduced 1000 ships--from her husband Menaleus after the autumn of Troy and fought his manner throughout part the identified international to convey her appropriately to Egypt.
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Additional info for The Hittite
It was my will that drove us on now, not the emperor’s, but I had to be just as hard and inflexible as he had been. Otherwise we would all be lost and I would never find my sons. “Pick up your goods and get back on the march,” I commanded. He actually grinned at me. “I’m not a soldier anymore, Lukka. ” “You can’t quit. ” Zarton stood up a little straighter. The other men edged away from us. “I’m going back to the village,” he repeated, slowly, stubbornly. ” Usually he was an easygoing, amiable sort.
Discipline would evaporate. My squad would disintegrate before my eyes and I would have no chance what ever of reaching distant Troy. Zarton gripped his spear in one ham-sized fist. It was more than half again his own considerable height. He looked at me with real sadness in his ice-blue eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, Lukka. ” I had no spear, only the sword in its scabbard by my side. Being left-handed is an advantage in a sword fight because most men are accustomed to fight against right-handers, and my left-handed stance confuses them.
Which meant that there were other bandits in the area. I formed up the men, reminded them that we might run across another band of raiders. “But we’re not raiders,” said Magro, grinning mockingly. ” The others all laughed. Yet I knew that only by keeping the discipline we had all learned under the empire could we hope to survive. It was what had kept us alive so far: twelve of us, at least, out of my original squad of twenty. I marched them up onto the dusty meandering road, rutted from the wheels of oxcarts and wagons.