Ride the Star Winds (42 page)

The TriVi commentator was valiantly trying to make himself heard. “Citizens! I beseech you all to stay away from the Acropolis! This is not just a riot; this is a revolution! People have been killed! They . . . .” His voice faded, recovered. “They are using gas . . . .”

They were using gas. It was what Grimes himself would have done in the circumstances, what he had done, on more than one occasion, during his Survey Service career. From the low-flying aircraft a dense mist, opalescent in the flood lighting, was drifting downward and battling men and women were dropping to the ground unconscious, police and civilians, all except the Amazon Guards in their protective masks. People on the outskirts of the mob, not yet affected, were beginning to run, away from the Acropolis, while others were binding strips torn from their clothing about their faces, delaying the effect of the anesthetic vapor by only seconds.

Hand weapons were being fired at the transport but ineffectually, and the marksmen got off only a few rounds before falling to the ground unconscious. There was even one man who was tearing up cobblestones and hurling them skyward. Darleen remarked scornfully, “He could not hit the side of a barn even if he was inside it.”

But he, whoever he was, was at least trying, thought Grimes. He was fighting back.

Another voice came from the speakers, a female one, distorted and muffled as though by breathing apparatus.

“Citizens! You have seen what has been happening at the Acropolis. Certain elements have tried to attack the person of our beloved leader, the Lady Ellena. The assassination attempt has been foiled. The instigators will be brought to justice. And now, all of you who have been watching this on the screens in your homes . . . . Stay in your homes. Do not take to the streets. Security patrols are abroad, with orders to take strict measures to maintain the peace . . .”

“In other words,” muttered Grimes, “shoot first and ask questions afterwards.”

The last picture on the screen, before the transmitter was shut down, was a dismal one. It had started to rain. Moving among the sprawled, unconscious bodies were gasmasked Amazons. They seemed to know whom they were looking for, were picking up selected prisoners and throwing them roughly into the rear of a large hovercar. Those who were left on the ground were the lucky ones. They would awake in a few hours time cold and wet and miserable—but they would not be awakening in jail.

“And what was all that about?” asked Fenella at last.

“That,” said Maggie, “is for us to find out.”

Then there was a great hammering on the door.

“Open up!” yelled a female voice. “In the name of the Lady Ellena, open up!”

Chapter 21

First into the sitting room
were two Amazon privates, stunguns in hand. They were followed by a major, and behind her was Ellena herself, still in her white robes, still with the golden laurel wreath crown.

“What are you two doing here?” snapped the officer.

“But, Hera . . .” began Shirl.

“The correct form of address, Lieutenant, is ‘Madam.’ Please remember that.”

“This is our free time, Madam,” said Darleen rebelliously.

“Free time, Lieutenant, is a privilege and not a right. And don’t you know that during this emergency all leave has been suspended? Get back to your quarters. At once.”

“Better do as the lady says,” advised Fenella.

“Quiet, you!” snarled Hera.

Fenella subsided. Grimes didn’t blame her. He would not have liked to try conclusions with that female weightlifter, her muscles bulging through the leather straps of her uniform. Shirl and Darleen got to their feet, cast apologetic glances at Grimes. He managed a small smile in return. They slouched out of his sitting room in a most unofficerlike manner.

“And what are
you
doing here?” demanded Ellena, addressing the journalist.

“Enjoying a quiet drink with my friends, Lady,” she replied defiantly.

“Cooking up some scurrilous stories for the scandal sheets that employ you as their muckraker, you mean,” said Ellena. “However, since you are here you may stay. In fact, you will stay. For your own protection. I cannot guarantee the safety of any offworlders at large in the city at this time.”

“You mean,” said Fenella, “that you want to be able to keep an eye on me.”

“Somebody has to,” Ellena told her. She turned to Maggie. “You, Commander Lazenby, are the senior Federation Survey Service officer at present on this planet. My understanding is that I, as ruler of a federated world, have the right to demand the support of the Federation’s armed forces during times of emergency.”

Maggie looked questioningly at Grimes, who nodded.

Ellena sneered. “Of course the Commodore, the ex-planetary Governor, is an expert on such matters, especially since the Federation’s armed forces on Liberia were doing their damnedest to depose him. But what do you say, Commodore Grimes?”

“You are right in your understanding, Lady,” admitted Grimes.

“Thank you, thank you. And now, Commander Lazenby, am I to understand that Lieutenant Gupta, captain of the courier
Krait
, is technically under your orders?”

“Yes.”

“And how is this
Krait
armed?”

Once again Maggie looked questioningly at Grimes.

He said, “I was once in command of such a ship myself, Lady. A Serpent Class Courier is no battle cruiser. There will be a forty-millimeter machine cannon, a laser cannon, a missile launcher and a
very
limited supply of ammunition. In a small vessel the magazines are also small, so the laser cannon will be the only weapon capable of sustained firing.”

“And are there—what do you call them?—pinnaces?”

“Nothing so big. Just a couple of general purpose spaceboats. Inertial drive, of course. Each can mount a light machine gun if required.”

“Still,” she said, “a useful adjunct to my own defense forces.”

“What about your Navy?” he asked.

She said, “I shall be frank, Commodore Grimes. You know what this world was like when it was an all-male planet. Many senior officers, in the Army and the Navy, pine for those so-called Good Old Days and too many junior ones believe the rubbish that their seniors tell them. They resent having to take orders from a woman. I cannot trust them.”

“When we get Brasidus back,” said Fenella spitefully, “he’ll bring them back into line.”

“Until such time,” Ellena said coldly, “I must rule as best I can.”

She did not, thought Grimes, seem to be overly worried about the safety of her husband. She was not, even, overly worried about her own safety. There was an arrogance, but not a stupid arrogance. She would take whatever tools came to hand to build up her own position. She had already forged such a tool, her Corps of Amazon Guards. And the Amazons had been brought into being well before the abduction of the Archon.

The telephone buzzed.

Grimes got up from his chair to answer the call. His way was blocked by Major Hera. It was Ellena who took her seat at the desk on which the instrument was mounted.

“Archoness here,” she stated.

“Lady, this is Captain Lalia, duty commander of the Palace Guard. There is a mob approaching, with armored hovercars in the lead. If you will switch on your playmaster to Palace Cover you will have pictures.”

“Thank you, Lalia. Commodore Grimes, will you get us coverage as Lalia suggests? Major Hera, if the Colonel is not back yet from the city will you take charge of the defense? I shall remain here for the time being.”

Hera hurried out, leaving the two Amazon privates to guard Ellena. Grimes fiddled with the controls of the playmaster. The picture, being taken by the infrared cameras on the palace roof, was clear enough. It was more of an army than a mere mob that was pouring up the road. There were the armored hovercars in the lead, with their heavy automatic weapons and their uniformed crews and the pennants streaming from their whip aerials. There were motorcycles, and their riders were police, in their stainless steel and black leather uniforms. There were marching civilians, more than a few of whom were carrying firearms.

Directional microphones were picking up the shouts.

“Scrag the bitches! Scrag the bitches! Ellena out! Ellena out!”

“Somebody out there,” remarked Fenella, “doesn’t like you.”

Surprisingly Ellena laughed. She said, “They will like me even less in a minute or so. My Amazons will be more than a match for this rabble.”

“There’re Army personnel there,” said Grimes. “And Police.”

“I do not need to be instructed, Commodore, regarding the uniforms worn by my own armed forces.”

“They aren’t behaving as though they belong to you,” said Fenella.

“Guards,” snapped Ellena, “if that woman opens her mouth again, gag her!”

The mob—or the army—was closer now. Was that Colonel Heraclion in one of the leading armored cars? Yes, Grimes decided, it was, making his identification just before the colonel pulled on a respirator. Gas had been used to quell the riot at the Acropolis; if it were used here it would not be so effective. Police and Army personnel, at least, would have their protection.

The camera shifted its viewpoint, covering, from above, the main entrance to the Palace. Something was rolling out, a huge, broad-rimmed wheel, almost a short-axised cylinder. Gathering speed, it trundled down the road toward the attackers. It was followed by another, and another. Laser fire flickered from the hovercars and there were muzzle flashes and streams of tracer from the heavy machine guns. There were the beginnings of panic, with vehicles attempting to pull off the road, their way blocked by the heavy, ornamental shrubbery. But these were only relatively light armored cars, not heavy tanks.

The first of the wheels—it must have been radio-controlled—exploded. The second one leaped the crater before being detonated. The third one did not have much effect—but this was because the majority of the marchers had been able to run clear to each side, off the road.

“A very old weapon,” said Ellena smugly, “but improved upon.”

Grimes stared at the picture in the screen, at the shattered vehicles, some of which were still smoldering, and at the contorted, dismembered bodies, some very few of which were still feebly twisting and jerking.

He said bitterly, “I hope you’re satisfied.”

She said, “They’re only men. Besides, they asked for it and they got it.”

“Didn’t you rather overreact?” asked Grimes.

“Come, come, Commodore. Speaking for myself, I would rather overreact to a threat than be torn limb from limb.” She got up to leave. “I do not care what sleeping arrangements you make but all three of you are confined to the Palace, to the two suites allocated to Commander Lazenby and Commodore Grimes.

“A very good night to you all.”

She swept out, followed by the two Amazon privates.

“The manipulating bitch!” exclaimed Fenella, not without admiration. “You know, I almost hope that she pulls it off.”

“If she does,” said Grimes, “this is one world that I shall do my best to avoid in the foreseeable future.”

Chapter 22

So they were,
to all intents and purposes, prisoners in the Palace.

It was decided that Fenella would take up residence in what had been Maggie’s suite and that Maggie would move in with Grimes. Everybody must already know that she had been sleeping with him; now it would be made official. Maggie said that she would call Lieutenant Gupta to let him know that his services might be required but was unable to get through to the spaceport. She tried direct punching first but without results. Then she got through to the Palace switchboard. A young lady in Amazon uniform politely but coldly informed her that during the state of emergency no outward calls were allowed.

After this the three of them watched the playmaster to try to catch up with the news. There was a speech by Ellena, which she delivered from before a backdrop on which were idealized portraits of such famous persons as Prime Ministers Indira Gandhi, Golda Mier and Margaret Thatcher. There was also one of a lady attired as an ancient Greek warrior, presumably the mythical Queen Hippolyte. This one looked remarkably like Ellena herself.

(“I suppose that the artist knew on which side her bread is buttered,” sneered Fenella.)

Ellena’s speech was an impassioned one. She appealed to all citizens to support her in the defense of law and order. She left no doubt in the minds of her audience as to who was the chief upholder of law and order on New Sparta. At the finish, almost as an afterthought, she did mention her missing husband and assured everybody that until his return the business of government was in good hands.

After she finished talking there was a brief coverage of the attack on the Palace and an assurance that the ringleaders of what was referred to as a riot were under arrest. There was no mention of casualties.

Sufficient unto the day, thought Grimes, was the evil thereof. No doubt the morrow would bring its own evils. He decided to go outside, onto the balcony, to smoke a quiet pipe before retiring.

The night seemed to be quiet enough. There were no sounds of gunfire, near or distant. There was no wailing of sirens. Somebody, somewhere not too far away, was plucking at a stringed instrument, accompanying a woman who was softly, not untunefully singing. Grimes did not recognize the song. Of one thing he was sure; it was a very old one. He looked up at the sky, at the stars, at the constellations. These had been named by the first colonists, all of them after gods and heroes of Greek mythology. Poseidon and Cyclops, Jason and Ulysses, Ares and Hercules . . . There were no female names. Would Ellena, Grimes wondered, order her tame astronomers to rectify this? Would the spectacular grouping now called Ares be renamed Hippolyte?

He was still staring upward when something whirred past his right ear, striking the window frame behind him with a clatter. At once he dropped on to all fours, seeking the protection, such as it was, of the ornamental rail enclosing the balcony. But there were no further missiles.

He heard Maggie ask sharply, “What was that?” and Fenella demand, “What are you
doing
, Grimes? Praying? Are you sure that Mecca’s that way?”