Free Planet America by Mack Maloney

odor Calandrx was familiar with. Back when he was a space fighter pilot, he'd been in countless preattack meetings, and inevitably a spy would pop in, always coming out of the rain somewhere and usually bearing pressing news about the battle soon to commence. All imperial spies wore the same type of cape: thick, black velveeta , by the commonly used ancient word. This material had a very distinct, earthy smell, especially when wet. Therefore, so did the spies.
    "And why is a spook here to see me?" Calandrx asked him; he was known for his direct approach.
    The stranger seemed not surprised that Calandrx had pegged his occupation.
    "I figured an old soldier like you would know who I was— or perhaps more accurately, what 1 was," he said. "The truth is, I am more a messenger than a spook this stormy night."
    "And what message do you bear?"
    The spy took a breath. "You are wanted down in the city— immediately."
    Calandrx's eyes brightened at once. He didn't get down to Big Bright City much anymore. But when he did, it was usually for an occasion that was honoring him in some fashion—a dinner, a testimonial, an awards ceremony. This always meant good food, good wine, plenty of women, and more accolades than he could digest. It was not an unpleasant way to spend an evening.
    But the spy could read his thoughts.
    "This is not another fete for you," he told him frankly. "It does not appear that it will festive at all."
    Calandrx stared back at him. This was a bit worrisome.
    "Who is asking that I appear then? And why?"
    The man shrugged. "A member of the Imperial Family has made the request. That's all I can say. And as you know, these things can not be refused."
    Flash !
     
    More than two billion people lived in Big Bright City.
    The imperial capital of the Fourth Empire boasted millions of structures, including many superskyscrapers and spaceports, interlaced with miles of hovering roadways, air-car tubes, people movers, and canals. The sprawling city was so big, it took up nearly 10 percent of the hemisphere's northeast quadrant. Its total power consumption was equal to that of a large planet.
    At ground level, the place was packed with housing units, military barracks, imperial offices, sports clubs, nightclubs, dance clubs, sex clubs, casinos, bars, arenas, weapons shops, and dis-tilleries. There was some kind of flag or banner draped from almost every one of these establishments, proclaiming the greatness of the Fourth Empire. Thousands of monuments to the Emperor could be found all over the city, too, usually jammed in between the enormous, skyward-pointing power towers. And then there were the lights. They were everywhere. All colors, all shades and tones, burning brightly, day or night, creating a garish neon glow that practically guaranteed no one in Big Bright City ever went to sleep.     Not that anyone would want to.
     
    Cruising above the immense metropolis was the floating city known as Special Number One.
    It looked like a huge castle in the sky: high walls, hundreds of ornate buildings, spacious courtyards, a labyrinth of streets and back alleys, it was ten square miles in all. There were multiple spires rising from the clutter of these palatial buildings; each tower glowed with a different iridescent color. Long, sloping passageways crisscrossed these spires like lattice work. In the tallest, there were ornamental zaser beams so bright, they could be seen clear beyond the solar system.
    Special Number One was where the Imperial Family lived. And even though it was past midnight, the floating city was about to get very busy.
    A signal had just been flashed to the small army of security forces stationed on the floating city: the Emperor was on the move; get to your positions. Within seconds, every roof, street, intersection, gate, and tower was lined with heavily armed Imperial troops. So many of these soldiers were materializing from their barracks that the combined shimmer of greenish electricity—always