Code Duello

made no reservations for your stay on Firenze?”

“I never bother with reservations,” Jerry told him. “I always figure, let the other man make the reservations, then I cross the clerk’s palm with a bit of hard credit and—like magic—I’ve got the best suite in the house.”

The maggiore made an amused moue. “My dear Signore Rhodes, believe me, I have been overspace on a few occasions myself and hence am somewhat familiar with usage on other worlds. However, forgive me, I would not suggest you offer the mancia to a male citizen of Firenze. He would most certainly call you out.”

“Mancia? Call me out?” Jerry said blankly.

Zorro growled, “Evidently, try to tip a man here and he wants to duel you.”

The newcomer looked at Dr. Horsten. “You, of course, have reservations at the Albergo Palazzo. If I may say so, Doctor, Academician Udine is most excited at your arrival. It is not every day that a scientist of your attainments honors Firenze.”

“You are too kind.”

Zorro said, “The Palazzo. That’s the hotel I sent a subspace cable to for a room.”

The maggiore said politely, “Most interplanetary visitors at least begin their sojourn on Firenze at the Palazzo, Signore Juarez.”

Jerry said, “Well, I might as well check in there too. I hope they’ve got accommodations suitable to my standing.”

The other was frowning. “Unfortunately, Signore, there is a shortage. You see, His Zelenza and his Cabinet are due for a convention preceding the pseudo-election here in Firenze, beginning tomorrow.” He looked back at Dr. Horsten. “One of the reasons I met you was because the Third Signore suggested I see that you find some sort of quarters, no matter what.”

“The Third Signore?” Dorn Horsten frowned.

“There are nine Signori in the Cabinet of the First Signore, our executive head,” the maggiore explained smoothly.

“Ah, I see. And what portfolio does the Third Signore carry?”

“Anti-Subversion,” the maggiore said pleasantly.

Helen said, “I’m tired. I want my nap. Gertrude wants his nap. I’m awful tired.” She added, to clinch it, “I hate this dump.”

The maggiore looked at Inspector Grossi, who said, “The baggage of the outworlders has been inspected, Eccellenza.”

“Very well, Inspector.” Roberto Verona made a sweeping gesture with his right hand. “This way, Signorina, Signori…”

Helen took his hand and looked up at him. “Gee, you do that pretty.”

He smiled winningly down at her. “Do what, little Signorina?” They passed through the door into the corridor beyond.

“Make that sissy motion with your hand,” she said flatly.

His smile faded.

He said to Dr. Horsten, as the others fell in behind, “You know, an earthquake is quite unique here.”

“This must have been the very center.” Horsten nodded. “It doesn’t seem to have affected the vicinity.”

“Ah, you need not have worried. This building is well constructed. It would have been really difficult for even an earthquake to shake it.”

“You’re telling me,” Horsten muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, it seems to be,” the scientist told him in agreement.

Outside the administration building a suitably impressive hover-limousine was pulled up at the curb.

Even as he bowed them into the chauffeur driven vehicle the maggiore was saying, ” I am sure that there will be ample room for all, since our destination is the same.”

“You’re sure you’re not from the tourist…” Jerry began again, even as he ducked his head to take the front seat next to the driver.

The maggiore had visibly flinched, and his smile had sagged, but Zorro covered.

“The major is a high government official, Jerry. He’s come to welcome the doctor. All we’re doing is hitching a ride.”

“Ha!” Jerry said. “Fascinating. If Mother could only hear that. Surprised the old girl didn’t send ahead. Some sort of boring reception committee. Interplanetary WCTU or SPCA, or DRR, or something. Mother belongs to everything.” He added absently, “Everything she doesn’t own.”

Dorn Horsten, if only to keep the conversation going, said, “I’ve heard of the Interplanetary WCTU and of the SPCA, but the DRR eludes me.”

“Daughters of the Russian Revolution,” Jerry said. “One of my great-great grandmothers was from Leningrad. Very conservative outfit. Bunch of old hens. Flag wavers. You know the type. Origins of the outfit lost way back in the mists of antiquity.”

“Revolution?” Maggiore Verona said, his voice slightly less suave. “Upon Firenze, we frown upon that term, Signore.”

Horsten said, in quick cover, “If my studies of boyhood serve me, Citizen Rhodes refers to a revolution that took place a long time ago, Maggiore. I have found that revolutions become acceptable in proportion to the time that has elapsed since their inception. Lucius Brutus and Collatinus were on the wild-eyed fanatic side when they overthrew the Tarquins, however, as the centuries passed, these founders of the Republic gained acceptability, and later comers, such as the first Caesars, were happy to be able to trace themselves back to the Julian and Claudian gentes which were instrumental in expelling the Etruscans. Later, in history, the better elements in the British American colonies fled to Canada or back to the motherland before the fury of the mob, which, fanned to a white heat by Sam Adams and Tom Paine, and led by malcontents such as Washington, dubbed themselves Sons of Liberty and stole, burned and destroyed the property of the Tories. But in a century or so the posterity of those mobs became the most conservative members of a now conservative nation and proudly claimed the descent.”

Jerry Rhodes yawned. Helen was rocking her doll in her arms and crooning something about three little girls in blue, tra la.

“Sons of Liberty?” the maggiore said. “It has been my experience that organizations with such titles are inclined to be subversive.” He hastened to add: “Of course, Firenze follows the democratic ethic, however, there is a limit to liberty. For instance, you wouldn’t allow someone to stand up in a crowded theater and shout Fire! in the name of freedom of speech.”

“Why not?” Jerry said innocently. “Certainly, freedom of speech is more important than a few theaters full of people. Besides, somebody else has the right to stand up and yell, He’s a liar, there is no fire!

Zorro shook his head at him unobtrusively.

The maggiore looked at Jerry in growing suspicion.

But Jerry Rhodes was happily underway.

“It reminds me of a historical period on Mother Earth I had studied when I was attending the university. All the major nations of the time were continually sounding off about liberty and freedom and democracy. They’d send off expeditionary forces of hundreds of thousands of men, all equipped with the latest military devices, to preserve the liberties of some people halfway around the world from them; people who often didn’t have the vaguest idea of what the word meant. Then a Negro—or a Jew or Hindu—would get up in the square of his town and try to sound off about local injustices. Sixteen cops would jump him and run him in, on the grounds that by his exercising these liberties he supposedly had, he was threatening to upset the peace. He might irritate some uneducated slobs, by saying something they didn’t like to hear.”

Jerry chuckled amusement. “It was a great situation. The powers that be were willing to kill off hundreds of thousands of gooks, abroad, to preserve their liberties such as freedom of speech, but they allowed that liberty in their own country just so long as people said what they liked to hear. You could write anything you wanted, but so far as getting into print in the mass media was concerned, it had a dim chance if you weren’t writing what they wanted to read. You could vote for anybody you wanted to, just so long as it was one of their candidates—election