Amazon Planet

Guy stared at it when they laid it out on the table of the lounge.

The major said, “Wipe that look off your face. You can’t wear those over-space clothes. Anybody who spotted you would know you were from off planet.”

“Maybe they’d think I was already married,” Guy said hopefully. “How do you know I’m not already married?”

Lysippe looked at him interestedly. “Are there temples on Earth where a warrior and boy can get married?” She looked at Clete. “I didn’t know Artimis was worshipped over-space.”

Guy said, “She isn’t. But there are other places to be married besides a temple to your Mother Goddess.”

“Don’t be blasphemous,” the major rapped. “We recognize no marriage except those performed before a priestess of Artimis.”

Guy said, “You mean, even though I was married back on Earth one of your women could still grab me?” There went his last alibi, if worse got to worse, down below.

He took the new clothing back to his quarters and changed into them, rejecting Clete’s leering offer to help. The material was soft and flowing and surprisingly attractive. The styling was another thing. He was reminded somewhat of Scottish kilts, somewhat of the tunic of the ancient Greeks. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. In fact, he had to admit, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. It was just that, well, it was just that he was used to trousers.

The footwear consisted of a sandal-like arrangement, the straps of which were obviously meant to encircle his leg, up beyond the ankle.

He looked at himself in the mirror his small cabin refresher provided and winced. He hesitated for a long moment, then shrugged in resignation and made his way back to the salon lounge.

Rex Ravelle had entered while he was dressing. As all turned to face him, the irrepressible second officer gave a long low whistle.

“That will be all, Mister Ravelle,” the captain said. He turned to Guy. “You’re sure of this step, Citizen Thomas? You realize, of course, that if you have any doubts you can remain on board. Frankly, in all the years I have been calling at Amazonia, both as a junior officer and finally as master of my own spaceship, I have never known a man to set down on the planet.”

Guy Thomas closed his eyes for a brief moment. He said finally, “I’ve got to. It’s my big opportunity. I’ve got to make this one good.”

“Very well, Citizen. Good luck. I am afraid you will need it.” The skipper of the Schirra turned on his heel and left.

“Okay, Sweety,” let’s go,” Clete growled. “You’d think from these cloddies you were heading for a fate worse than death.”

She glowered uncomprehendingly as Rex Ravelle burst into raucous laughter.

IV

Somewhat to Guy’s surprise, the little space launch which dropped them to the surface of Amazonia was piloted by a man. He was business-like, efficient, and either shy or intimidated by the uniformed women. He had nodded to the Earthling when the other had slipped through the Schirra’s small boat hatch, and had run his eyes up and down Guy’s clothes, quickly, and evidently in disappointment. For all purposes, they were identical to his own.

They had disconnected from the over-space freighter and swooped away, the major and her two assistants too blase to bother looking at the viewing screens. However, Guy stared. Obviously, he had no background in landing in such wise on a a new planet.

He said, “Why…it’s not too different from Earth.”

The major was busy with her thoughts and said nothing.

Clete said, “So I understand, Sweety. Two main land masses, a few large islands, quite a few small ones. What do you call the two land masses on Earth?.”

“Well, actually, we think of seven continents.”

Lysippe grunted. “Three of them are joined, aren’t they, and two of the others only overgrown islands?” Her voice, as their voices usually were when talking to a man, was domineering.

“Why…why, I suppose so,” Guy said. “Actually, we have the Western Hemisphere, the Americas. And then Europe, Asia and Africa, the Eastern Hemisphere.”

“Two continents,” Clete grunted. “Like us.”

Guy held his peace and continued to stare at the view-screen. Actually, the two continents of Amazonia were almost identical in size. Then he remembered that there was conflict between them and wondered of what nature it might be. Here they were using spacecraft, if only to ferry back and forth to interplanetary freighters. Besides that, they seemed to conduct considerable trade, in spite of the fact that the landing of freight had to be done by lighter. That meant there was no reason to believe the more sophisticated nuclear weapons might not be available to these belligerent female warriors.

They had chosen to land him at night.

The space launch zipped in to come to a halt on the far edge of what was obviously a gigantic airport, sometimes utilized for at least minor spacecraft. It came to a halt but nobody made motion to disembark. The administration buildings were at least three miles away.

Guy Thomas looked at the major.

She said, “You’re coming in incognito, obviously. There’ll be a hovercar out shortly.”

A hovercar. Guy Thomas had to bring himself up sharply. Why not? They had this modern space launch, didn’t they? Why shouldn’t they use hovercars? It was just that their uniforms simulated the armor of antiquity to such a point that he wouldn’t have really been surprised had they got about on the surface in chariots. But, of course, that was silly.

Shortly, they could make out the landcraft gliding toward them at a breakneck speed. It came to a halt, settled to the ground. There was no driver. He realized he was continuing to be a flat about his anticipations. Obviously, automation was no mystery to Amazonia. Why should it be?

But he stirred unhappily. The technical progress of this world certainly didn’t seem to jibe with its social institutions. He thought about it uncomfortably. Or did it? Was he so chauvinistic, as a male, that he identified an advanced economy with man’s domination of the sexes? Why should Amazonia be backward, just because women were in the saddle? He had no reason to so expect. But he still felt uncomfortably unhappy.

“Come along, Sweety,” Clete said. They left the launch’s pilot behind to take care of his craft. The four of them got into the hovercar, a large limousine affair, and the major immediately turned a knob. The windows went opaque. She fingered controls and the vehicle rose and got under way.

Guy said, “Can’t we even see out the windows?” The major said, “We don’t want anyone to spot you, even though you are in men’s clothes now.”

Lysippe said, as though unthinking, “Turn it over to polar.”

The major looked at her. Lysippe said, “Well, why not?”

“Shut up,” the major said.

Guy said, “You can switch the screen so we can look out but no one can look in?”

The major started to say something, shut her mouth sourly and turned the knob again. They were passing the administration buildings of the transportation complex and heading out onto what was obviously a major roadway. It was all as modern as anything Guy Thomas could remember having seen.

Nor, for that matter, were the streets of Themiscyra as different as all that from Greater Washington or any of the other larger Earthside cities such as New Copenhagen, Peking or Lagos. Largely, that was due to the fact that for the past half century Earth architecture had been going through an antiquity revival phase which involved exteriors, at least, looking like the buildings of ages past. To Guy’s taste, it was all on the far-out side, what with a Florentine palace standing cheek to jowl with a Babylonian temple, next in its turn to a Zuni adobe pueblo. A phase, undoubtedly, but the quicker it passed the better, so far as he was concerned.