Atomic war! Men had started the war, overriding the desires of their women and plunging the world into an orgy of destruction. Finally, when the vast armies of men had finally been shattered, women took over as rulers. Under successive Matriarchs, the world was slowly recovering, diverting the vast war potential to peaceful purposes. To keep the world free of war, the Matriarch employed official assassins under the chief of Security Police. It was felt that the death of one person was an acceptable price to preserve the lives of many. But when the Matriarch ordered the assassination of Don Burgarde, an apparently harmless young man, her personal secretary, Lyra, decided to intervene. The seeds of rebellion had been sown...
Release date:
January 30, 2014
Publisher:
Gateway
Print pages:
74
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
The Cap Kennedy (F.A.T.E.) Series (E.C. Tubb writing as Gregory Kern)
1: Galaxy of the Lost (1973)
2: Slave Ship from Sergan (1973)
3: Monster of Metelaze (1973)
4: Enemy Within the Skull (1974)
5: Jewel of Jarhen (1974)
6: Seetee Alert! (1974)
7: The Gholan Gate (1974)
8: The Eater of Worlds (1974)
9: Earth Enslaved (1974)
10: Planet of Dread (1974)
11: Spawn of Laban (1974)
12: The Genetic Buccaneer (1974)
13: A World Aflame (1974)
14: The Ghosts of Epidoris (1975)
15: Mimics of Dephene (1975)
16: Beyond the Galactic Lens (1975)
17: The Galactiad (1983)
Alien Dust (1955)
Alien Impact (1952)
Journey Into Terror (originally published as Alien Life (1954, rev 1998))
Atom War on Mars (1952)
Fear of Strangers (first published as C.O.D. - Mars (1968))
Century of the Manikin (1972)
City of No Return (1954)
Death God’s Doom (1999)
Death is a Dream (1967)
Dead Weight (first published as Death Wears a White Face (1979))
Escape into Space (1969)
Footsteps of Angels (2004) (previously unpublished work written c.1988)
Hell Planet (1954)
Journey to Mars (1954)
Moon Base (1964)
Pandora’s Box (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Pawn of the Omphalos (1980)
S.T.A.R. Flight (1969)
Stardeath (1983)
Starslave (2010) (previously unpublished work written 1984)
Stellar Assignment (1979)
Temple of Death (1996) (previously unpublished work written 1954)
Fifty Days to Doom (first published as The Extra Man (1954))
The Life-Buyer (1965, 2008)
The Luck Machine (1980)
World in Torment (originally published as The Mutants Rebel (1953))
The Primitive (1977)
The Resurrected Man (1954)
The Sleeping City (1999)
The Space-Born (1956)
The Stellar Legion (1954)
To Dream Again (2011)
Venusian Adventure (1953)
Tide of Death (first published as World at Bay (1954))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Arthur MacLean)
The Possessed (revised version of Touch of Evil (1957))
E. C. Tubb (writing as Brian Shaw)
Argentis (1952)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Carl Maddox)
Menace from the Past (1954)
The Living World (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Charles Grey)
Dynasty of Doom (1953)
The Extra Man (first published as Enterprise 2115 (1954) & then as The Mechanical Monarch (1958))
I Fight for Mars (1953)
Space Hunger (1953)
The Hand of Havoc (1954)
Secret of the Towers (originally published as The Tormented City (1953))
The Wall (1953)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Gill Hunt)
Planetfall (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as King Lang)
Saturn Patrol (1951)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Roy Sheldon)
The Metal Eater (1954)
E. C. Tubb (writing as Volsted Gridban)
The Green Helix (originally published as Alien Universe (1952))
Reverse Universe (1952)
Planetoid Disposals Ltd. (1953)
The Freedom Army (originally published as De Bracy’s Drug (1953))
Fugitive of Time (1953)
Lyra
THE room was warm, softly lit, and seemed to be vibrant with hidden life. From a concealed speaker a low voice murmured a continuous stream of news items, the emotionless tones whispering through the thick silence.
“Food production from eastern sea farms shows continuous decrease of ten percent per harvest. Green riots in Central Europe at proposed building of volcanic power pits. Election results from South America shows feminist element on the ascendancy. Astronomers predict unequalled sun spot activity will result in severe ionic storms…”
Behind a wide desk ringed with instruments and covered with papers, a woman sat in deep concentration. A tall, slender woman, no longer young but as yet unmarred by age. Thick black hair fell in soft ripples to narrow shoulders. Her skin had a faint bronze cast, and her oddly slanted eyes were as black as ebony.
She wore a uniform of slacks and high collared blouse, belted at the waist, and all of deep black. A faint pattern of thin gold lines weaved in an intricate arabesque over the entire uniform, relieving the sombre colouring. A wide band of gold was clasped to her left wrist, supporting an elaborate chronometer, her long thin fingers were devoid of rings, and her nails lacked varnish.
She would have been beautiful in any age, but in one where females aped the male, she was more than just beautiful. She knew it, knew also the antagonism it aroused, but deliberately ignored it. It was one of the advantages of her position that she was able to do so.
Papers rustled as she scanned them, seeming only to glance at the columns of figures, but actually remembering every slightest detail. The low murmuring voice from the concealed speaker registered itself without conscious effort, and even as she both saw and heard, a portion of her mind was busy with her own private thoughts.
A light flashed on one of the instruments before her, even as it died she threw the switch on the intercom.
“Yes?”
“Lyra, come in here.”
“At once.”
She opened the circuit, rose from the chair, and with a supple easy grace moved across the room. A door swung open before her, harsh light streaming full into her face, narrowing her eyes a little against the glare. Three steps more and she stared down at the Matriarch of the Western Federation.
The door hissed shut behind her.
Mary Beamish, Third Matriarch of the Western Federation, was an old woman, and looked it. Her sparse grey hair was cropped, parted and dressed as a man’s. She wore an unflattering uniform of thick rough tweeds, a shirt, collar and tie, with heavy shoes. Her lined features sagged and her little pale eyes were surrounded with a maze of tiny lines. Her figure was broad and shapeless. She had a plain wristwatch strapped to one thick wrist, and the nails of her hands were bitten almost to the quick. Against her, Lyra was a vision of perfection, a woman against something that neither man nor woman.
Instinctively the Matriarch bridled.
“I haven’t seen you before have I?” Her voice was harsh and thin, like that of a very old man, or a very young boy. Lyra smiled.
“No, Madam. You were elected only yesterday, and as yet have had little time to take up your duties.” Deliberately she sat down.
“You were here during the time of my predecessor, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“I’ve heard about you, supposed to be very efficient aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“I have been found so.”
“Don’t give yourself airs my girl!” The old woman glared her dislike. “I can replace you, there are a dozen women who could do your work, women who wouldn’t dress as you do.” The sagging features pursed as if from a nasty taste. “Do you have to dress like that?”
“My clothes hardly determine my efficiency,” Lyra said mildly. “I have had the honour to serve the duly elected Matriarchs for a long time now. If for no other reason than that I am able to act as your informant, it would not be easy to replace me without causing some disruption.” She smiled and leaned forward a little.
“Your period of office is only for three years. Would it be wise to waste valuable time? After all results are what count at election time, and your majority was not a large one.”
“You’re right.” The old woman nodded her head. “That Jones woman would like to indict me for inefficiency, she has a dangerously large following in the feminist movement.” She frowned. “Something should be done about that woman.”
“As Matriarch, something could be.” The suggestion in Lyra’s voice was unmistakable.
“The assassins you mean?”
“Call them your Security Police.”
“Call them what you like, but they still kill people don’t they?”
“Sometimes,” admitted Lyra. “Sometimes it is the only wav to prevent war.”
“War!” Anger suffused the Matriarch’s heavy features. “War is a thing born of men. We women want none of it. To see our children torn from our arms, fed to the ravening cannon, to die on foreign fields far from their loved ones. To see overgrown children strut and clown in uniforms, playing with the lives of those yet unborn!” She paused, breathing heavily. “Don’t ever mention war to me again.”
“And yet war there will be unless precautions are taken.”
“There must be no war!”
With surprising agility for one so gross, the old woman swung from her chair, and gestured at the high window.
“Look! There, low on the horizon. See it? See that blue glow? A city once stood there, a city of over eight million people. Come now. All gone. Dissolved in the blue flame of radioactive destruction, and it was not the only one. All over the world great pits stream forth their deadly radiation, square miles where no living thing dare tread. And that isn’t all. What of the sterile soil? The vast tracts where radioactive dusts were spread, what of them?”
“We are reclaiming that soil,” said Lyra gently.
“But so slowly. Can we wait that long? Dare we wait while famine snarls at our heels?”
“What else can we do but wait?”
“There are things I could suggest.” Weakly the old woman slumped back into her chair. “One of the first must be the complete elimination of all none-producers. Food is too scarce to allow the crippled, the insane, the freaks to live. We will cut the ration, less for men than for women. It will be hard, but it is the only way.”
“Is that fair?” Lyra protested. “The atom war took place during the last generation, over forty years ago, how can you blame those alive now?”
“Men started the war. Men overrode the desires of their women and plunged the world into an orgy of destruction. It could have been the end of civilisation, almost it was, but for a miracle it would have been.”
“Lucy Westcott?”
“Yes.” The Matriarch almost whispered the name, a sudden gentleness softening her harsh features. “Lucy Westcott. A heroine, a martyr. It was she who aroused the women to revolt. When the vast armies of men had finally been shattered by atomic bombardment, it was she who demanded that women be allowed to rule. The vote gave her power, as First Matriarch she negotiated an armistice, turned all the vast war potential into peaceful production. Her assassination was the most criminal thing that men ever did.”
“It was never proved that a man fired the shot which killed her.”
“What woman could have done so? There wasn’t a woman on the Earth who wouldn’t have gladly died for her. No. Men killed her, and men must pay for that crime.” . . .
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
