Conquest of the Amazon
Page 3
“She is not your aunt, Miss Wilson,” Torrington corrected, with a cynical smile. “However, I assume you call her such purely as a term of endearment.”
“Never mind what I call her! There isn’t a word of truth in your statement — Stop tugging at me; dad!” Ethel broke off angrily. “I’m going to have my say! Listen, all of you. I know Miss Brant better than any of you. I’ve, been with her during her exploration of other worlds. She has saved my life many times, and all of yours, and not taken a scrap of credit. How dare you say she’s trying to destroy us?”
The metal king said: “Miss Brant is not a normal woman with feminine sentiments, but a scientific machine utterly pitiless in her methods. If she is not willing to let us die in the midst of this solar catastrophe, why doesn’t she come forward in our hour of dire need?”
“There must be a good reason,” Ethel retorted.
“Yes, indeed!” Torrington agreed.
“Sit down, Rosy!” Chris urged.
“I’ll not have Aunt Vi’s name blackened in her absence. If she were here herself Mr. Torrington wouldn’t dare say such things.”
“If she were here there’d be no need,” Torrington observed. He turned to face the president again.
“Mr. President, unless the Amazon returns and explains her conduct satisfactorily it is the opinion of myself and my colleagues that she should be put under technical arrest. That is, should she ever be found she must be brought to trial to explain why she has remained absent and deprived us of her skill. She is a servant of the public, and knows it.”
“You mean she should be brought to the bar of the Tribunal of Justice?” the president asked.
“I do. I am prepared to admit that in many ways, she has helped us in the past, but deep down she has always been a menace — and I remain unshaken in my belief that she only threw that Martian armada into the sun because she knew it would destroy the sun and us. She stands today in our eyes as the greatest scientific criminal in history?”
Torrington did not stop here. His speech obviously had been prepared in consultation with the higher-ups in world affairs, and so skillfully did he emphasize his points that at the finish there did not appear to be a single redeeming feature in the character of the mysteriously absent Amazon.
“Very well,” the president agreed. “Should Miss Brant return she will be put under arrest and made to explain her actions in court. Now we must turn to the vital matter at issue. How do we save ourselves from this disaster?”
“We must go underground,” Dr. Standish answered. “I am not an engineer, but I understand from Mr. Torrington and others that the problem of tunnelling below the earth and installing vast underground habitats filled with every modem necessity is not beyond possibility. If we do not do this we shall die in the frozen wastes which are inevitably coming. Travelling to other worlds in the system will not help us, either, since they rely on the same sun.”
Torrington got on his feet again. “This, Mr. President, is surely a matter to be settled in a more personal atmosphere? I have around me the men who can build the shelters, arrange the food distribution, control the transport... It will mean that every living being must be indexed, and all available space must be mapped out—”
Chris Wilson and Ethel did not wait to hear any more. They went out silently from the hall, and Ethel asked: “Do you scent a deliberate plot, dad?”
Chris nodded soberly. “As far as the technical arrest of your Aunt Vi is concerned, yes — but it doesn’t worry me unduly because if she ever does return she knows how to take care of herself and I’m pretty sure she’ll have a reasonable explanation. What does worry me is that Torrington will be in charge of building the shelters. I don’t trust him. I remember once when he had an order for four new space liners and each one of them had faulty metal. They’d have sent thousands of people to their deaths if your aunt hadn’t discovered the flaws with testing equipment. Torrington had to put things right — and I think that incident with others, is lingering in his mind. That no doubt is one reason why he wants your aunt’s arrest.”
Chapter V
In the weeks which followed the decision to honeycomb the earth, mass-hysteria swept the world. The suicide graph leapt to a fantastic height. At the other end of the scale were those who were determined to enjoy themselves in the two remaining years, no matter what the cost. Crime, mob violence, religious revival they marched side by side.
Control, law, order — all vanished in two weeks. Never had the world been so much in need of a leader. Never had the human race appeared so much like an overturned anthill. Everybody was doing something, subconsciously aware that even when done it would probably be wasted effort. The more devout prayed.
Ethel attended many of the London services for deliverance from the approaching catastrophe. She prayed, too, for the safety of her beloved Aunt Vi, wherever she might be.
In three weeks there was a sudden exodus of private space machines, their owners determined to find other worlds, no matter how dangerous, where there was at least a sun. That they could never reach another world with a sun in the space of a human lifetime was something which never occurred to them.
Chris Wilson completed his plans for retirement to Brazil. He felt that he was justified. The Dodd Space Line had ceased to operate — at least with safety. The terrific electronic disturbances created by the gigantic sunspots made space unsafe to navigate. Instruments would not register and radio contact with Earth was impossible.
Further, there was danger in staying much longer in Britain. A giant glacier was creeping down from the Arctic Circle and might at any time accelerate its movement and bury the British Isles forever under its unfathomable weight ... Already the northern United States had become uninhabitable with a persistent 400 below zero temperature. People were moving by every possible means to the Brazilian areas, to the Sahara, to India, the Persian Gulf, the Gold Coast — anywhere indeed where a semblance of warmth remained. Apart from these places and other favoured climes — as yet — there was a breath of icy doom in the air as the dark areas on the face of the sun grew visibly larger with each passing day.
Chris Wilson, with a few final matters to attend to, sent Ethel ahead of himself and his wife. Ethel had instructions to fly straight to Brazil by the 10 A.M. air liner, open up the residence and stay until her mother and father joined her. But it was an instruction easier to give than carry out.
People constantly besieged the airports, attacking passengers who were flying to a temporary haven, and Ethel was no exception to the threat of violence. When she left her car at the airport to board the liner chartered by a number of prominent people, Ethel found herself followed by a menacing crowd of men and women who were at the entrance gates.
Then she saw that the crew and passengers were being held in the midst of a second large group. She glanced behind her: there was no escape that way.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she asked. “What right have any of you to behave in this fashion?”
A man said: “There’ve bin enough flights to better spots an’ we’re stoppin’ it until we get a fair deal. The government should arrange for everybody to go — an’ until they do nobody goes!”
“Take your hands off me,” Ethel yelled, as the man seized her by the arm. “Get away from me—”
Instead two other men joined in and Ethel found herself moved along helplessly. She kicked, scratched, and writhed violently as her three particular captors bore her along.
Then there was an interruption. A big car came sweeping through the crowd and stopped a few feet from the struggling Ethel.
The three men holding her stared in wonder as another woman came into view, thrusting through the people — a tall girl, hatless, her vividly blonde hair flowing in the biting wind. The white costume she was wearing seemed utterly inadequate in the cold.
“Well, this one walks right into it,” one of the men commented, releasing Ethel. “I’ll deal with ’er and you stick to—”
“Aunt Vi!” Ethel screamed. “Oh, thank heaven you’ve come!”
Abruptly she was free. In the pale light the other two men had just realized who the newcomer was. Now they saw tawny yellow skin, a weirdly beautiful face and dark pools of violet eyes.
“The Golden Amazon!” one of them gulped, and turned to run.
He was unlucky. With the speed of a tigress, the Amazon caught up with him and his companion. Her hands gripped each of them at the backs of their necks. A sudden tautening of her steel-strong fingers and a twist of her wrists — the men fell, and did not rise again.
Ethel came racing forward. “Aunt Vi, whatever happened to you? Why were you away so long, and—”
“Never mind that now,” the Amazon interrupted, catching the girl’s arm. “Our first job is to get to safety. This mob looks ugly. If I can reach my car again we’ll be okay.”
She swung round, still holding Ethel. The men and women had now gathered in a circle, intent on revenge for the ruthless manner in which several of their number had been mown down by the car. The queerly-shaped, shining vehicle, its doors immovably locked, was surrounded by the mob. Ethel hesitated but the Amazon forced her onwards, ready for whatever challenge might come. Within a few feet of the grim-faced rioters she paused and looked round on them.
“I warn you,” she said, “that if you make the least attempt to block my progress or that of Miss Wilson and these other ladies and gentlemen who are to board this liner, you’ll be extremely sorry.”
“You’ve some room to talk!” one of the men shouted. “But for you things wouldn’t be in the mess they are! We know all about it — how you ran out on us!”
The Amazon looked mystified for a moment and glanced inquiry at Ethel — but she had no time to ask questions. She looked towards the men and women who should have taken the air liner and who were still in the grip of the rioters.
“Fight for your liberty!” she shouted. “If you can get free get aboard the liner. I’ll take care of everything here.”
The onsurging crowd knew perfectly well what they were attempting as far as the Amazon was concerned, but they were convinced that weight of numbers would win. What they did not expect was the Amazon’s last-second move. From her costume pocket she whipped a small object like a torch and pressed the button. Into the faces of the men and women rioters there flooded a purple-tinted mist. They stopped in their tracks, staggered, then sagged helplessly to the ground.
“Keep to windward of this vapour!” the Amazon said to Ethel, puffing it forth relentlessly. “It produces two-hour paralysis. Quick, Ethel — to the car!” She shouted: “You other people get into the liner!”
Angling her way so as to keep to the rear of the wind-floated gas the Amazon moved toward her car. Ethel by her side and the men and women belonging to the air liner heading toward it. Here and, there, where she was not quick enough to use her gas gun, the Amazon used a fist — with poleaxing effect. So she gained the car and pressed a button and one door opened.
“In you get, Ethel.”
Ethel half fell in and the Amazon slid in beside her. The car hurtled forward, sweeping through those rioters who made a last desperate effort to attack, and on through the gateway.
The Amazon returned the gas gun to her pocket and gave a taut little smile.
“You left it a bit late to come back, aunt, didn’t you?” Ethel asked, her eyes wide.
“Taking me to task, Rosy?” the Amazon asked, drily. “Of course not! Only things are in a terrible mess and everybody seems to have gone crazy. It’s because of the sun. It’s dying.”
“Yes ...” The Amazon looked through the transparent roof of the car at the saffron ball glowing balefully overhead. “So I believe.”
“Where have you been these past eighteen months?” Ethel insisted. “Didn’t you know what was going on — how badly we all need your help?”
“What did that lout back there mean by my running out on you?” the Amazon asked.
“You don’t know? Why, everybody thinks you caused this solar disaster and then left us to our fate. There’s a warrant out for your arrest if you can be found.”
“We’ll talk later,” the Amazon said. “I want to get to your home before mother and father leave for Brazil. Then maybe we can have a talk.”
“But do you think it’s safe? The airport crowd knows you’ve come back; they’ll tip off the police and you’ll be arrested.”
“I’ll deal with that if I have to. There are other matters first.”
Chapter VI
Chris Wilson and his wife, both of them wrapped in furs, were waiting on the steps of their London residence when the Amazon’s car reached it. She opened the door, jumped out, and Ethel followed her.
“So she was all right?” Chris asked in relief, putting an arm about Ethel’s shoulders. “Thank heaven for that—”
“You should have more sense, Chris, than let the girl try to take an airliner, as things are!” the Amazon snapped. “The mob had got her when I reached the airport. You’re lucky to have her back in one piece.”
“I knew it was wrong!” Chris Wilson found his wife giving him a grim look. “We should have used a private plane—”
“They’re not safe, dear! Besides, I’m not as good a pilot as I used to be.”
“Let’s get inside,” the Amazon suggested. “I’ve one or two matters to discuss.”
She led the way through the big hall and into the lounge and switched on the lights.
“Aren’t you cold, Vi, in that summer costume?” Chris Wilson’s wife asked in wonder, tugging off her furs.
“You know me better than that,” the Amazon smiled, seating herself. “Sit down, all of you, and let’s try and get matters straight.”
Chris, his wife and Ethel seated themselves and waited. For a moment or two the Amazon did not say anything. She seemed to be thinking, her slender amber-tinted fingers tapping pensively on the chair arm. Chris Wilson noticed that she was as beautiful as she had always been. Over fifty, she was apparently as young as Ethel.
“I’ve been in space,” she said abruptly, evidently deciding at which point to start speaking.
“We guessed as much,” Chris responded. “But what doing?”
“Trying to find a way to cure the sun.” The Amazon smiled cynically. “You don’t suppose I have been in ignorance of what the sun has been doing, do you?”
“Well, no,” Chris admitted, “but we did rather wonder—”
“Why I stayed away so long? I did it to get some peace. As long as I am on Earth here every little problem, scientific or ordinary, is dumped in my lap. I had much more important work to do and I didn’t want to be interrupted. I was not aware, though, of the rumpus going on here because I received no radio reports. The static interference of the sun spots blocked all communications. It was when I noticed that Earth was looking in a sorry state through advancing icecaps that I decided to come back and see what was happening.
“Early this morning I arrived, as you know, Chris. I left my Ultra at home and motored here, after finding you were not at your office. You told me about Ethel and I realized from the mobs I’d seen that she might be in trouble, so I went after her.”
“So that was it,” Ethel exclaimed. “And you lived in space in the Ultra for eighteen months?”
“In the Ultra I could live in space indefinitely. It is fitted with every necessity.”
“Whereabouts in space were you?” Chris asked. “Between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. I have never been that far distant before. I did it so that the disturbances from the sun would not affect my instruments. Unfortunately my experiments didn’t amount to anything, I failed to find what I was seekin
g.”
For some reason she did not amplify her statement but instead passed on to other matters.
“From what I can gather. I am supposed to be the cause of all the trouble going on at present. What exactly are the facts?”
Chris Wilson gave them to her, with outbursts from Ethel at intervals. There was a glint in the Amazon’s purple eyes when the story had been told.
“So that is the situation,” she mused. “In other words, a propaganda campaign by Brice Torrington, aimed against me — and from the look of things he has managed the job of inflaming the people quite successfully.”
“If you’re caught you’ll inevitably be brought before the Tribunal of Justice,” Chris said anxiously.
Ethel said, “I’d like to know what chance the sun has got of being restored.”
The Amazon looked at her for a moment, then compressed her lips.
The Amazon said: “Unless I can find what I’m looking for the sun will never be restored. I knew eighteen months ago, when the first spots appeared, what was coming — and of course the reason; but in fairness to myself I must say that I didn’t think of it at the time I flung that Martian armada in the sun. However, the thing is done now. I’ve worked night and day, using every scientific trick I know, to find just one thing. I call it atomium. It exists in the universe — crystallized energy, possessing a force so prodigiously powerful that beside it atomic power is nothing but a cheap firework.”
“I never heard of it.” Chris wrinkled his brow.
“Not by that name, since I christened it. But sixty years ago certain famous scientists declared that it did exist, at least in theory — and is only to be found in space. It is energy — the essence thereof, if you wish — compressed into a mineral-like structure by the forces which exist in space. It is formed in much the some way as steam vapour forms into water by the action of condensation. My instruments here on Earth, which I built specially for the job, showed me that the stuff existed in space, so I set out to find it. I became a sort of cosmic fisherwoman waiting to catch some of these drifting atomium meteors in my magnetic grapples — but I didn’t even catch a glimpse of the stuff.”