IN THE morning Gan Alain was awakened by the voice of Aphele, calling from outside. Gan slipped on his boots, opened the door to her. She had removed the masculine uniform with its harsh steel breast and abdomen plates, and was wearing instead a kind of sarong which left her breasts bare, and on her soft, floating hair a wreath of wood flowers gave her a dryad look of extreme attractiveness. Gan flushed guiltily at sight of her, for some reason he himself could not understand.
“It is good,” said Aphele in a husky voice, “to dress as a woman and to wake a man with one’s heart knocking at one’s ribs. I had almost forgotten how good it could be. I give you good morning, and hope you will live the day out.”
He grimaced, and she laughed, but not without worry.
“The council seems set upon your death, even though I am correct in guaranteeing your life and liberty under the normal status of a military truce. They are a bunch of abnormal old biddies, who see only evil in all men and most things related to sex.”
“I may have a surprise for them,” said Gan. “If they violate my neutrality; if they threaten me or take steps to execute me, I think they will find that I am not so helpless as they think.”
Aphele pressed close against him, taking his hand. “Walk with me, and murmur sweet words into my ears. Gan, the forest is lovely at this time of year.”
Gan moved out into the daylight, and the smell of cooking meat gave him hunger pangs. He groaned. “Aphele, never expect a man to make love on an empty stomach. And in the morning, of all times, a man cannot even be courteous until he has been fed. Do you know nothing of the male whatever?”
She laughed and pointed. “I have built a fire, and what you smell is your meat cooking. The others will eat in their barracks, where you are not allowed. Come, or you get no breakfast.”
Gan put his arm about her waist and moved toward the fire between the vast boles of the ancient trees. Her laughter and her beauty made the forest seem twice as lovely as yesterday. The breakfast she had prepared was very fine.
“You do understand the animal, man, after all, don’t you?” Gan said, his mouth full of deer meat.
THE COUNCIL, called in midmorning, was out in the open air. There were several thousand females, of various ages, gathered on the grass and leaf mold of the forest aisles, watching the ceremonial chair placed for the Mother. Watching the twenty other women seated at a long table of planks, before which Gan stood, like a criminal before the bar, there was little doubt as to their undivided opinion.
There was little ceremony wasted on the proceedings. Aphele was called to testify, and she told the simple truth: that she had thought the council might wish to barter the ancient secret Tor Branthak sought for the freedom of Phira, and therefore she had brought this man to negotiate the deal.
Celys was called, and for the first time Gan saw the three identical women, daughter, mother and grandmother, who had played Supreme Matriarch for the hidden council for some four centuries, according to Aphele’s whispered information. To Gan’s eyes, they were equally beautiful, the grandmother somewhat more mature in proportions, but all three would have been taken for young women on any other world.
Celys testified to her part in the journey, and that Gan had been instrumental in her escape, if not essential. No one spoke a word against him, at first. After the two women had spoken, Gan found himself facing the old leader across the plank table.
“It has been our custom for ages,” she began, her eyes glittering out of her wrinkled face and her lips straight and thin and hard, clipping off her words with machine precision, “to slay all men who found their way to this sanctuary of womanhood. In the ancient times men were put to the death under the great fission ray. This ray was emitted from a great mechanical device known only to the Matriarchs of Myrmi-Atla. I, myself, was known to have pushed men into this ray of death—a ray that incinerated the very flesh it touched. Their seared bodies were blasted into a great vat, within which their remains were dissolved. But now, after centuries, it is proposed that the ancient customs by which we live, customs which are time-hallowed laws, be set aside; that they be set aside because of the present crisis, the downfall of Alid, the defeat of our space fleet, the inrush of alien troops into our cities. It is proposed, moreover, that they be set aside in a cowardly act of barter, a barter in which we give immortality, our greatest single treasure, to the enemy in return for a dubious promise of immunity from their avowed plan of complete destruction of the power of Myrmi-Atla. I am ardently against this proposal. But the council may decide, and I will abide by their wishes, as always.”
Gan was not asked to say a word in his defense. The old woman gave the nod to the women gathered about the table, who at once began to pass little slips of folded paper the length of the table, where they were gathered by the woman at the head of the table. She copied off the total of votes upon the papers and, after a moment, arose, facing Gan, who stood at the farther end of the table. Her voice was as impersonal and empty of human concern for Gan as a voice record.
“The council has voted, and the decision is death.”
INTERIOR ILLUSTRATION #2
Art by Ed Valigursky and Leo Summers
INTERIOR ILLUSTRATION #3
Art by Ed Valigursky and Leo Summers
GAN SWUNG about, and his hand went to his belt, shutting off the self-contained power unit, which energized the little wave-generator in his belt. In an instant two tall, uniformed warrior maids sprang to his side, seized his arms, thinking to hold him.
Gan was furious at the prearranged inevitability of the “trial” and the way in which it was run off without discussion or proper consideration of all the factors involved.
He twisted one arm loose from the maid on his right, seized the other about the waist, holding her between himself and the other. In two swift movements he had seized her pellet gun and ring thrower, and as the other maid reached over to strike him with the long dagger, which was the only weapon she could use safely here in the midst of thousands of innocent bystanders, he inadvertently held the woman in his arms between himself and the dagger so that she thrust it into her comrade’s breast.
The warrior maid sprang back at this sudden development, the bloody dagger in her hand, and her distraught face making the whole scene plain to the observers as in a drama.
Gan dropped the wounded woman, fitted a ring into the ring-thrower and faced the council table with the weapon, ready to toss the deadly fission ring directly into the midst of the council.
“We will now proceed to hold trial correctly,” bellowed Gan. “Or else you can all immediately go up in the air in tiny pieces and we can elect a new council more to a man’s liking. All of you not in favor may signify by remaining standing. The others, please be seated, as you see your wise old leader already doing.”
It took them all of ten seconds to get the order through their heads and resume their seats. Cap motioned with his weapon to Aphele.
“My dear lady, since you seem the only one here with human blood in your veins, will you preside in place of the old lady who prefers murder to legal procedure?”
Aphele’s hand went to her mouth in sincere fear of the consequences of such an act, but Gan was adamant.
“You will note, Aphele, that the old woman has already made her seat vacant for you. Please take your place.”
Aphele, knowing he had them all at his mercy with the explosive ring, capable of blowing the whole council table and all its members up in one stroke, seated herself on the rude chair of honor. After a second, she stood up again and called the meeting to order.
Under Gan’s ruthless eyes, the trial was repeated, almost word for word, and the vote taken. No one man was surprised that the verdict was found to be unanimously in favor of the barter agreement, whereby the Matriarchy would give Tor Branthak the secret of their longevity for his removal of troops.
THE TRIAL and vote were quite over, and everyone was standing about wondering apprehensively what next, when the Warspea
r loomed hugely down from overhead, settling on a pillar of flame, landing among the huge trees rather neatly. Instantly out of the ship poured Gan’s crew—and Gan’s description to little Elvir of what a pirate looked like was fulfilled, for they looked very bold and bad, and the blasters in their hands seemed very large indeed.
They quickly disarmed the warrior women, who could not bring themselves to begin firing in the mass of people present. Gan kept the deadly fission ring gun trained upon the group of officers who had gathered about the old leader. As soon as things looked safely in their hands, Gan gave orders to his mates.
“Take that group of females about the old hag, there, aboard the Warspear. Then scout around and pick yourselves wives; you’ll never get a better chance. If they behave, they can make our dismal rock hangout into a home for us. I see no reason why we can’t let Tor Branthak search for the secret in his own way, now that we have it. These women know what the secret is and how to use it, and we will have it merely by taking them with us.”
In some twenty minutes they had secured nearly a hundred and fifty captives from among the most beautiful of the warrior maids, as well as the dozen sleek officers of the Amazon army who had clustered about their leader, and the old woman also.
Aphele went aboard willingly, while Celys and her two look-alikes, her daughter and granddaughter, had to be dragged aboard. Then the Warspear lifted into the sky and Gan set course for far space, where the lonely Black Rock circled about a dying sun.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT WAS some months later when the Warspear reappeared over Phira. She did not land, but dropped off a life-raft, moved on out of vision.
Within the life-raft Gan and Chan DuChaile, as well as the old Matriarch who had ruled for so long from hidden Avalaon, drifted slowly to a landing upon the plateau above the city. There were still a score of Konaparian vessels cradled there, as well as fifty or more damaged vessels of Phira, which had been captured and brought in. The rest of Konapar’s original war-fleet had returned home, or patrolled the skies above Phira for the chance of retaliation by some ally of Phira.
Gan and his two companions were led before Tor Branthak in his ship, in the same chamber where Gan had toasted the long life of the Phiran women.
“You traitor!” shouted Tor Branthak when he recognized the Cap. “You dare return here? I had thought you would have better sense than to put yourself in my hands again.”
“Why not?” Gan said. “Wasn’t that our bargain; that I would return with the secret? So, I have returned. I didn’t say when, as it was a question only to be determined by events. Tell me, Tor Branthak, have you discovered the secret yet?”
Gan laughed, and after a moment the Regent laughed too. “Tell your tale, Captain. But I must warn you, for this length of time I have considered you a liar and a scoundrel who stole away with the greatest treasure on Phira.”
Gan said: “No, Your Highness. I did not steal it. I needed this time to get to the bottom of their secret. I abducted the core personnel and their leader because I believed there is only one way to get the secret—your tactics of pulling out their toenails seemed too drastic, and less liable to work than mine.”
“And what is your method?”
Gan drew himself up to his full height, demonstrating the magnificent manhood in him. “Your Highness, when a human being has been without a vital element of life for a thousand years, that element should prove to be a very potent persuasive force. Besides, it has the advantage of not killing or maiming them.”
The Tor grimaced at him. “Had you left me any core personnel at all, Captain Gan Alain, perhaps I too might have had the means to learn the secret. But, go on, our bargain still holds.”
Gan pointed to the old lady. “I have brought her to you. She knows the secret of their long life, and will give it to you, in return for consent to return Phira to the rule of women.”
Tor Branthak scowled. “A hard bargain, that, but the method might be worth it. But how explain to the men who have fought and been wounded, who have settled here on lands deeded to them? How can I give it back?”
Gan shrugged. “That is her price. I promised to bring her here and present it. But, if you want my price, I can offer you an alternative. I have learned the details of their methods, a rather simple preparation of certain reagents, which eliminate the substances that cause old age from the body, thus insuring perpetual youth. I will settle for a governorship on Phira, under your suzerainty, because I think you are a man’s man, so that Phira would become in effect a province of Konapar, with me as its head. I have an itch to teach these Matriarchs something about the rights of the human male.”
As Gan delivered these words, the old Matriarch turned on him with a sudden fierce exclamation, as if a serpent had bitten her. She flashed a knife from her full bosom, sprang upon Gan. The knife plunged into his chest. But the point turned on the heavy leather of his corselet, and he caught her wrist, twisted until her hand released the blade.
The Tor’s eyes gleamed. “I understand your itch, exactly, Captain Gan Alain. Or, as I should say, from now on, Governor Gan Alain!”
Gan whipped up the Matriarch’s knife and lifted it in salute. “To my Regent’s long life!” he bellowed.
SO ENDED the ancient dominance of the female on Phira; and later, on the other worlds, which had come under the sway of the Matriarchs of Myrmi-Atla. But, as can be seen, if it had not been for Gan Alain and his Warspear, the fleet of Konapar would have been driven back by the dreadnought of Mixar, and with their monopoly of the secret, the Matriarchy would have grown in time to engulf all mankind.
Today, centuries after, the methods for fighting age developed by the Matriarchs have become the common property throughout the civilized portions of the galaxy. And on Phira, the harem of the mighty Gan Alain, Governor of Phira, in Alid, is the most famous for its beauty and talent of any in all the polygamous worlds.
The favorite of the Governor’s harem is a very lovely brunette named Aphele, but the three identical beauties, Celys I, II and III are more celebrated. The woman called Elvir is also much spoken of, because of her pranks and her mischievous beauty; and so too is a slim young beauty who still remembers her first kiss, and gets as much of a kick out of each succeeding one.
And the children of Gan Alain number seven hundred and ten.
THE END
TETE-BECHE COVER
When we founded Armchair Fiction in late 2010 it was our original intention to offer the paperback editions of our double novels in the old-style Tête-bêche format, with each side upside down to the other. Unfortunately, our POD publishing house, CreateSpace, was unable to print books with those kinds of specifications. We can only hope someday this policy will change. In the meantime, here is what the cover of this double novel would have looked like in the Tête-bêche format.
ARMCHAIR SCI-FI, FANTASY, & HORROR
DOUBLE NOVELS for your KINDLE
D-1 THE GALAXY RAIDERS by William P. McGivern
SPACE STATION #1 by Frank Belknap Long
D-2 THE PROGRAMMED PEOPLE by Jack Sharkey
SLAVES OF THE CRYSTAL BRAIN by Rog Phillips
D-3 YOU’RE ALL ALONE by Fritz Leiber
THE LIQUID MAN by Bernard C. Gilford
D-4 CITADEL OF THE STAR LORDS by Edmund Hamilton
VOYAGE TO ETERNITY by Milton Lesser
D-5 IRON MEN OF VENUS by Don Wilcox
THE MAN WITH ABSOLUTE MOTION by Noel Loomis
D-6 WHO SOWS THE WIND... by Rog Phillips
THE PUZZLE PLANET by Robert A. W. Lowndes
D-7 PLANET OF DREAD by Murray Leinster
TWICE UPON A TIME by Charles L. Fontenay
D-8 THE TERROR OUT OF SPACE by Dwight V. Swain
QUEST OF THE GOLDEN APE by Ivar Jorgensen and Adam Chase
D-9 SECRET OF MARRACOTT DEEP by Henry Slesar
PAWN OF THE BLACK FLEET by Mark Clifton.
D-10 BEYOND THE RINGS OF SATURN by Robert Moore Williams
A M
AN OBSESSED by Alan E. Nourse
D-11 PERIL OF THE STARMEN by Kris Neville
THE FORGOTTEN PLANET by Murray Leinster
D-12 THE STAR LORD by Boyd Ellanby
CAPTIVES OF THE FLAME by Samuel R. Delany
D-13 MEN OF THE MORNING STAR by Edmond Hamilton
PLANET FOR PLUNDER by Hal Clement and Sam Merwin, Jr.
D-14 ICE CITY OF THE GORGON by Chester S. Geier and Richard Shaver
WHEN THE WORLD TOTTERED by Lester del Rey
D-15 WORLDS WITHOUT END by Clifford D. Simak
THE LAVENDER VINE OF DEATH by Don Wilcox
D-16 SHADOW ON THE MOON by Joe Gibson
ARMAGEDDON EARTH by Geoff St. Reynard
D-17 THE GIRL WHO LOVED DEATH by Paul W. Fairman
SLAVE PLANET by Laurence M. Janifer
D-18 SECOND CHANCE by J. F. Bone
MISSION TO A DISTANT STAR by Frank Belknap Long
D-19 THE SYNDIC by C. M. Kornbluth
FLIGHT TO FOREVER by Poul Anderson
D-20 SOMEWHERE I’LL FIND YOU by Milton Lesser
THE TIME ARMADA by Fox B. Holden
D-21 SECOND CHANCE by J. F. Bone
MISSION TO A DISTANT STAR by Frank Belknap Long
D-22 OPERATION: SQUARE PEG by Frank Belknap Long
ENCHANTRESS OF VENUS by Leigh Brackett
D-23 THE LIFE WATCH by Lester del Rey
CREATURES OF THE ABYSS by Murray Leinster
Empire of Women & One of our Cities is Missing (Armchair Fiction Double Novels Book 25) Page 8