“The Speaker’s called an extraordinary meeting of the Assembly to deal with the crisis,” Captain Orichos said, sounding conciliatory if not apologetic. “I’m to address them. I’d like you with me, Lieutenant, as a representative of Hammer’s Regiment.”
Me rather than Sangrela, Huber thought. “Sure,” he said aloud. “Do I need to say anything?”
“No, Lieutenant,” Orichos said. “Your presence really says all that’s necessary. Your armed presence.”
Well, that’s clear enough, Huber thought. He said, “All right, I’m ready when you are.”
Orichos turned, nodding him to follow. “When we get inside, the ushers will direct us to the gallery upstairs,” she said. “Ignore them; we’ll wait in the anteroom until Speaker Nestilrode recognizes me. When he does, you’ll come with me to the podium.”
Huber shrugged. Parliamentary procedure, especially on somebody else’s planet, wasn’t a matter of great concern to him. “Who all’s going to be in there?” he said, gesturing left-handed to the approaching doorway. The stairway up from the street was limestone, but the building’s plinth and the attached steps were of dense black granite.
“Most assemblymen will be present,” Orichos said. “Many are afraid, but they’ve been warned that this is the government’s only chance of safety and that they won’t be allowed to compromise it. If necessary—”
She looked sidelong at Huber.
“—members of the Gendarmery would escort a sufficient number of assemblymen here to make up a quorum. Whether they wanted to come or not.”
Huber grinned, then sobered again. It was easy—and satisfying—to mock cowardly politicians, but in fairness they weren’t people who’d signed on for armed conflict. You could be brave enough in the ordinary sense and still not want to enter a building surrounded by tanks and professional killers.
“The only people in the gallery . . .” Orichos continued. “Will be the goons, the so-called Volunteers, who you saw enter with the Grayle and her Freedom Party colleagues. Those few are just bodyguards, but there’d have been hundreds packing the seats if it weren’t for your arrival.”
A porch of the same hard black stone as the plinth loomed above them. Just inside the doorway stood a man and a woman in embroidered tunics, presumably the ushers.
A mural on the wall of the semi-circular anteroom depicted an idealized Moss ranger on the right and an equally heroic female mechanic on the left. Stairs slanted upward from either side.
“We’ll wait here,” Orichos said curtly to the male usher. He and his colleague looked doubtful, but they didn’t argue. Huber’s big powergun drew their quick glances the way the view of a nude woman might have tempted a modest man, but they said nothing about the weapon.
Huber stood beside the jamb and looked through the inner doorway. Save for the anteroom, the ground floor of the Assembly Building was given over to a single chamber paneled in carved wood. Desks in ranks curved around three sides, each row rising above the one before it. It didn’t look to Huber as though half of the places were occupied, but presumably enough assemblymen for the purpose were present.
The entrance was on the fourth side. Facing the desks to the right of the doorway was a railed enclosure with seats for a dozen members; all but one of them were filled. To the left was a raised lectern at which an old man in a black robe was saying, “By virtue of the powers granted me as Speaker, I have called this extraordinary session. . . .”
Orichos leaned close to Huber. “The cabinet,” she whispered, nodding toward the enclosure.
The ordinary assemblymen sitting in the arcs of desks were staring at Huber and Orichos instead of watching the Speaker. Even some of the cabinet members stole furtive glances over their shoulders, though they faced front quickly when they caught Huber’s eye.
Melinda Grayle and her two companions were almost alone on the Speaker’s side of the room. The men appeared ill at ease, but Grayle’s expression was sneeringly dismissive as she eyed the doorway.
Huber couldn’t see the gallery from where he stood; that meant it must be directly overhead. The Volunteers’d be staring at his back if he went to the podium with Orichos. Staring at, and maybe aiming . . .