“No, Sir, it won’t take long though.”
Gryllus turned and indicated for Xenophon to follow. He made his way through the throng of people until reaching the grand staircase that led inside the Ecclesia building. The other members of the Thirty were already inside, and a heated argument had already erupted. They moved up the steps and into the beautiful marble structure. A tall woman shouted down from her raised platform. It was Erika Montoya, the Minister of the Interior for Attica, and the strongest supporter of the Laconian presence in the city.
“Listen, we must take this an opportunity. It is unexpected, but with the Laconians gone, we have a chance to rebuild Attica.”
“Rebuild into what?” shouted Marcus Barber, the youngest member of the Thirty and a decorated officer from the Civil War. “We took these posts as a chance to try and reduce the brutality of the occupation force. Without us, the people of Attica would have been treated no better than the synthetic slaves the Laconians keep in their colonies. We should have nothing to fear from our own people.”
“You are both correct!” called out Gryllus, as he stepped into the centre of the almost completely vacant Ecclesia. It was designed for the thousands of citizens, not the tiny group of Thirty.
“Sadly, we are all too aware of how our own citizens will react to the situation. Take it from an old man. This will turn violent. We will all be seen as collaborators, and there will be a reckoning. We can try and maintain our position and run Attica as a benevolent oligarchy, or we can announce the return of democracy.”
“Democracy?” shouted down Erika Montoya. “Do you not remember why we are in this position already? Our democracy is weak and easily angered. We lost thousands in the last war, and it brought us to our knees. Would you take this back so easily, without even a moment’s consideration for what might prove better?”
Xenophon watched them all. It was clear something was going to happen, and in his experience it usually wasn’t for the better. He stepped forward, and Gryllus gave him the nod to speak.
“I voted against the war, yet I was also forced to fight in it. I, like many before me, did my duty, and I was one of the lucky ones that survived the Battle of Attica. I urge you all to find a way to move Attica forward in a safe, reasonable manner. I promise you that if democracy is restored today, tomorrow we will be once more at war.”
Three more members of the Thirty entered the great space of the Ecclesia and moved to their allocated positions. Behind them walked Glaucon and one of his men from the barricade. He moved towards Xenophon and stopped just a few metres away. He nodded to the three members that had brought him inside. They were evidently either working with him or had made a deal.
The sneaky, self-serving animals! All they want to do is save their necks and use us as the scapegoats.
Xenophon thought.
“Citizen Glaucon. Why are you here, and under whose authority to you approach the Thirty?”
Glaucon looked up irreverently at the rest of the Thirty who sat in their seats.
“I am here under the authority of the Transitional Council. We…”
Ms Montoya stood from her seat and glared at the man who had interrupted their official proceedings.
“You have no business here, citizen,” called down Montoya. “Guards, throw him out!”
Two of the helmeted guards stepped closer, but Glaucon lifted his hands.
“I suggest you reconsider. The Laconians have gone, and there is no need for you anymore. The Thirty Tyrants have no place in our society. Within twenty-four hours democracy will be restored, and there will be a reckoning. I am here to demand the complete…”
“Get him out, now!” shouted Montoya.
The guards moved in quickly, and with a rough tug managed to force him back. Glaucon struggled, and one of the men struck him hard in the back of the leg. He dropped to the floor in pain and flailed about, trying to keep his balance. Xenophon pushed ahead and to the assistance of his old friend. The closest guard took his movement as a hostile attack and flipped out his stun baton and slashed at him. Xenophon was far from a tough, hardened soldier, but he was fast and his agility was what saved him. He dodged the strike and grabbed the guard at the elbow.
“Leave him. He is a citizen of Attica, and he deserves to be treated as one.”
The guard turned back to Glaucon and held him down.
“You see, Xenophon. You claim this is some kind of benevolent oligarchy, but it isn’t. This is just martial law run by a group of demagogues for their own ends. You should leave before it is too late.”
He tried to say more, but the guards dragged him to the door.
Montoya called down from her raised platform.
“I am receiving reports of disturbances in outlying cities. The news is already getting out about the withdrawal of the Laconians. We have to send a signal, and one that will let the citizens know who is in charge.”
“What?” demanded Xenophon.
“We cannot face another war with the enemy. There must be peace, even if some of our citizens will have to sacrifice a little of their liberty. My recommendation is full-scale martial law, and the call up of all civil defence and emergency militia forces. We can have the capital clamped down and secure within six hours.”
Xenophon stepped in front of the platform and looked at the other members of the Thirty. Each had been chosen for their conservative views as well as experience in previous wars. Their collective experience was vast, but their views appeared wildly divergent to the will of the majority.
“This is madness. If you do this, the city will collapse into civil war and anarchy. I will not condone this action,” he shouted angrily.
Gryllus placed his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“Listen to yourself, son. The citizens are stupid, and you know that. We need people like us in charge to make sure the state remains secure and safe.”
Tyrol, a short, balding man stood up to speak. He was the Minister of Trade and had vast commercial interests through Attica.
“Business revenue is up, violence is down and taxation is under control. I see no reason to allow bringing back the risks of violent mob rule to Attica. I agree with my honourable comrade Montoya that a short period of martial law may be required during this transition.”
Xenophon glared at him, angry at his selfish, arrogant attitude.
“If this is the will of the Thirty, then I remove myself from you. This organisation was a necessary evil during the occupation. It was the only way to stop the Laconians from ruining the nation. I dislike the vagaries of mob rule as much as the rest of you. Even so, it is through just rule of law and order that we will prevail. Dictatorship under martial law will end only one way. Good luck!”
He turned and marched for the door. Two heavily armed guards blocked his path, but he kept on towards them.
“Let him leave!” barked Montoya as he stormed out and into the sunlight.
Occupied Attica
Xenophon moved away from the Ecclesia building as quickly as he could. More police units and security forces were arriving by the second, and scores were setting up defensive lines at the main routes to the civic centre. Overhead, a large military transport moved towards the landing platform at the side of the Assembly building. He glanced at it, fascinated by the size and power of the craft. It was shaped like a large box with four small stubby wings, each attached to a powerful thrusters unit. On the flanks of the craft were two small cupolas with fitted pulse rifles.
Xenophon almost smiled to himself as he thought about the Thirty Tyrants locked away inside;
I thought they understood Attica. I thought they understood our people. They still think they are safe, locked away in their ivory towers and making decisions that affect everybody here.
His respect for them had decreased significantly since learning of their refusal to take into account what the people themselves wanted. Although he agreed with a lot of what they had to say, he couldn’t believe they would trample on the rights of the citizens so easily.
They aren’t interested in oligarchy or anything else, just maintaining their own position, no matter the cost to Attica or the Alliance,
he thought angrily.
He lowered his head and continued forwards and to the perimeter wall. It was beautifully carved in the same style as the Ecclesia. Relics of the old struggles against the dictatorship prior to the introduction of democracy were a common theme. He gazed at two, but his eyes were drawn to a larger, more recent construction. It was yet another monument dedicated to the victory against the Empire.
So much time and money spent commemorating something we could never do again.
The irony was not wasted on him at all.
The depiction of some of the ground battles against the Empire were somewhat fanciful, and he had serious doubts that Alliance troops could have ever stood up to the Empire in open battle. His reading had suggested the Laconian heavy infantry had done that part of the fighting. He thought back to Kratez and his classes over the last few years. This was one of he topics they had discussed in some detail. His old teacher had never mentioned his role as a warrior in the past, but he clearly knew his history well. It was his opinion that the combination of the Alliance Navy and the Laconian infantry had won the day. It had proven a dangerous topic, and one that had resulted in Kratez’s classes being banned for nearly six months. Xenophon smiled to himself and moved on towards the exit. His thoughts returned to the present, and a sick feeling instantly pushed into his stomach. Things in the old Alliance were looking far worse than he had expected. Then he spotted the guards from earlier; they were busy kicking a man on the ground.
“Hey!” he shouted, but they were far more interested in their target.
He rushed forward and barged his shoulder into the two men. Surprised at his arrival, they both staggered back and left the man free, if only for a moment. Xenophon bent down to check the man. It was Glaucon.
“Xenophon? You need to pick a side and fast!” he laughed, spitting out blood to the floor.
“Tell me about it,” he replied.
The two guards were back, and they looked less than impressed at the attack. Xenophon had no doubt they would take it as both a slur on their job and also as an insult to their manliness. The first pulled out his stun baton, and the second drew a sidearm. The stun rod was bad enough, and a weapon easily capable of knocking him unconscious with a single light tap. The sidearm was another thing entirely. Pulse pistols could smash through the thickest of armour, and Xenophon was wearing nothing other than his normal clothing.
“Put your hands up, citizen!” said the man with the rod.
“Yeah, do it, now!” barked the second.
Xenophon stayed with Glaucon and tried to help him to his feet. The guard with the baton moved closer until he was just a metre away and with the rod held high.
“I’m not telling you again, buddy. Back off or be arrested. Your move.”
He stood up and positioned himself between him and his fallen friend.
“Do you know who this is?” he demanded.
It was clear from their expression of confusion that the two men had no idea at all who he was. Not that it came as much of a surprise to him. He tried to speak again, but the dust cloud and noise from the landing transport became louder and messier until he could barely see or hear the two men. He ducked down to avoid the swirling storm of dust and dirt.
“Get down!” somebody shouted, and then a bright yellow flash lit up the skyline. There was no immediate noise, but the shockwave struck Xenophon in the torso like a freight train. He flew back almost five metres before crashing to the ground on his back. He shook his head, but the noise and the heat of the blast had completely disorientated him. He pushed down and forced himself up into a seated position.
What the hell is going on?
He looked about to try and ascertain what was happening at the place. A huge column of smoke gushed upwards from the Ecclesia, and there was no sign of the transport.
It must have crashed.
In answer to his question, another two blasts ripped part of the security barrier apart. Through the breaches surged untold hundreds of citizens, each pushing and striking out with pieces of wood and metal at the defending officers. Xenophon lifted himself up, but he was weak on his feet from the concussion. He looked to his left to find Glaucon still on the ground. Injured security guards ran in all directions. He moved over to his fallen friend and was gladdened to see he was still conscious.