Soon the elevator stopped; the floor became the floor in earnest, though with considerably less than one gravity, and the upsetting sensation ceased. The operator opened the door and shouted, “Everybody out!”
Don walked into a large inner compartment, carrying his bags. It was already crowded with more than half of the ship’s passengers. Don looked around for his dragon friend, then remembered that the ship would have to be moved around to a cargo port before the Venerian could disembark. He put his bags on the floor and sat down on them.
The crowd, for some reason, seemed unquiet. Don heard one woman say, “This is preposterous! We’ve been here at least half an hour and no one appears to know that we’re here.”
A man answered, “Be patient, Martha.”
” ‘Patient’ he says! Only one door out of the place and it locked—suppose there were a fire?”
“Well, where would you run to, dear? Nothing outside but some mighty thin vacuum.”
She squealed. “Oh! We should have gone to Bermuda as I wanted to.”
“As you wanted to?”
“Don’t be petty!”
Another elevator load discharged and then another; the ship was empty. After many minutes more of grumbling, during which even Don began to wonder at the service, the only door other than the elevator door opened. Instead of a hotelman anxious to please his guests, in came three men in uniform. The two flank men were carrying mob guns cradled at their hips; the third man had only a hand pistol, still holstered. He stepped forward, planted his feet and set his fists on his hips. “Attention! Quiet, everybody.”
He got it; his voice had the ring of command, which is obeyed without thinking. He went on, “I am Assault Sergeant McMasters of the High Guard, Venus Republic. My commanding officer has directed me to advise you of the present situation.”
There was an additional short moment of silence, then a rising mutter of surprise, alarm, disbelief, and indignation. “Pipe down!” the sergeant shouted. “Take it easy. Nobody’s going to get hurt—if you behave.” He went on, “The Republic has taken over this station and everybody is being cleared out. You groundhogs will be shipped back to Earth at once. Those of you who are headed home to Venus will go home—provided you pass our loyalty check. Now, let’s get sorted out.”
A fussy, plump man pushed his way forward. “Do you realize, sir, what you are saying? ‘Venus Republic,’ indeed. This is piracy!”
“Get back in line, fatty.”
“You can’t do this. I wish to speak to your commanding officer.”
“Fatty,” the sergeant said slowly, “back up before you get a boot in your belly.” The man looked dumbfounded, then scuttled back into the crowd.
The sergeant continued, “Those of you going to Venus form a queue here at the door. Have your ID’s and birth certificates ready.”
The passengers, up to that time a friendly group of fellow travelers, split into hostile camps. Someone shouted, “Long live the Republic!”, which was followed by the beefy sound of a fist striking flesh. One of the guards hurried into the crowd and stopped the impending riot. The sergeant drew his sidearm and said in a bored voice, “No politics, please. Let’s get on with the job.”
Somehow a line was formed. The second in line was the man who had cheered the new nation. His nose was dripping blood but his eyes were shining. As he offered his papers to the sergeant he said, “This is a great day! I’ve waited all my life for it.”
“Who hasn’t?” the sergeant answered. “Okay—on through the door for processing. Next!”
Don was busy trying to quiet down and arrange his whirling thoughts. He was forced at last to admit that this was it, this was war, the war that he had told himself was impossible. No cities had been bombed, not yet but this was the Fort Sumter of a new war; he was smart enough to see that. He did not have to be threatened with a boot in the belly to see what was in front of his face.
He realized with nervous shock that he bad just barely gotten away in time. The Valkyrie might be the last ship to Mars in a long, long time. With the transfer station in the hands of the rebels it might be the last one for years.