“Which means Gaea controls who can come back from the dead,” Percy guessed.
Nico nodded. “She can pick and choose who to let out—the worst monsters, the most evil souls. If we rescue Thanatos, that means at least he can catch souls again and send them below. Monsters will die when we kill them, like they used to, and we’ll get a little breathing room. But unless we’re able to retake the Doors of Death, our enemies won’t stay down for long. They’ll have an easy way back to the world of the living.”
“So we can catch them and deport them,” Percy summed up, “but they’ll just keep coming back across.”
“In a depressing nutshell, yes,” Nico said.
Frank scratched his head. “But Thanatos knows where the doors are, right? If we free him, he can retake them.”
“I don’t think so,” Nico said. “Not alone. He’s no match for Gaea. That would take a massive quest…an army of the best demigods.”
“Foes bear arms to the Doors of Death,” Reyna said. “That’s the Prophecy of Seven…” She looked at Percy, and for just a moment he could see how scared she was. She did a good job of hiding it, but Percy wondered if she’d had nightmares about Gaea too—if she’d seen visions of what would happen when the camp was invaded by monsters that couldn’t be killed. “If this begins the ancient prophecy, we don’t have resources to send an army to these Doors of Death and protect the camp. I can’t imagine even sparing seven demigods—”
“First things first.” Percy tried to sound confident, though he could feel the level of panic rising in the room. “I don’t know who the seven are, or what that old prophecy means, exactly. But first we have to free Thanatos. Mars told us we only needed three people for the quest to Alaska. Let’s concentrate on succeeding with that and getting back before the Feast of Fortuna. Then we can worry about the Doors of Death.”
“Yeah,” Frank said in a small voice. “That’s probably enough for one week.”
“So you do have a plan?” Octavian asked skeptically.
Percy looked at his teammates. “We go to Alaska as fast as possible...”
“And we improvise,” Hazel said.
“A lot,” Frank added.
Reyna studied them. She looked like she was mentally writing her own obituary.
“Very well,” she said. “Nothing remains except for us to vote what support we can give the quest—transportation, money, magic, weapons.”
“Praetor, if I may,” Octavian said.
“Oh, great,” Percy muttered. “Here it comes.”
“The camp is in grave danger,” Octavian said. “Two gods have warned us we will be attacked four days from now. We must not spread our resources too thin, especially by funding projects that have a slim chance of success.”
Octavian looked at the three of them with pity, as if to say, Poor little things. “Mars has clearly chosen the least likely candidates for this quest. Perhaps that is because he considers them the most expendable. Perhaps Mars is playing the long odds. Whatever the case, he wisely didn’t order a massive expedition, nor did he ask us to fund their adventure. I say we keep our resources here and defend the camp. This is where the battle will be lost or won. If these three succeed, wonderful! But they should do so by their own ingenuity.”
An uneasy murmur passed through the crowd. Frank jumped to his feet. Before he could start a fight, Percy said, “Fine! No problem. But at least give us transportation. Gaea is the earth goddess, right? Going overland, across the earth—I’m guessing we should avoid that. Plus, it’ll be too slow.”
Octavian laughed. “Would you like us to charter you an airplane?”
The idea made Percy nauseous. “No. Air travel…I have a feeling that would be bad, too. But a boat. Can you at least give us a boat?”
Hazel made a grunting sound. Percy glanced over. She shook her head and mouthed, Fine. I’m fine.
“A boat!” Octavian turned to the senators. “The son of Neptune wants a boat. Sea travel has never been the Roman way, but he isn’t much of a Roman!”
“Octavian,” Reyna said sternly, “a boat is little enough to ask. And providing no other aid seems very—”
“Traditional!” Octavian exclaimed. “It is very traditional. Let us see if these questers have the strength to survive without help, like true Romans!”
More muttering filled the chamber. The senators’ eyes moved back and forth between Octavian and Reyna, watching the test of wills.
Reyna straightened in her chair. “Very well,” she said tightly. “We’ll put it to a vote. Senators, the motion is as follows: The quest shall go to Alaska. The senate shall provide full access to the Roman navy docked at Alameda. No other aid will be forthcoming. The three adventurers will survive or fail on their own merits. All in favor?”
Every senator’s hand went up.