“No you don’t,” Valina breathed, and with a spinning movement of her hand she flung the helpless girl into a chair.
Ethel lay crouched in it, staring at the merciless yellow face above her.
“If anything were—were needed to convince me that you’re not my Aunt Vi this docs it!” Ethel declared breathlessly.
“How interesting!” Valina sneered. “I’ve long had my suspicions of you, Ethel, chiefly because I have been able to read your mind. I always knew I would never convince you—”
“But who are you?” Ethel cried, her wonder overcoming her fear for a moment. “You’re so like Aunt Vi in appearance that I—”
“If you must know, I’m the Metrix, or ruler, of the planet you call Mars. When your Aunt Vi, as you call her, went to Mars, she took a double of herself—which she has since reclaimed. This is her own body, but with my brain in it. I have heard that your Aunt is on her way to Earth, having escaped from the captivity I planned for her—but I’m ready for her!”
“She is!” Ethel cried, delight flooding her features.
“I think it will be of no interest to you, though,” the Metrix added. “I’m going to kill you. You know far more than is good for you—or me. I’m not dressed for fighting, so I have no weapons handy, but I have the hands of the Golden Amazon, and I don’t have to tell you that they are strong...
She extended them like yellow claws, and Ethel sat staring at them fixedly for a moment: then she hurtled out of the chair to the door. She pulled on it uselessly, brought up hard against it, the hair tumbled over her frightened face. Then Valina was upon her and the merciless fingers were tightening into Ethel’s throat.
Strong young woman though she was, she had no chance against that grip, and the Martian woman made no attempt to temper the huge strength of the body she had stolen. Choking, blood pounding in her head, Ethel fell on her knees, the world swimming in a red and obliterating mist, breath bursting to escape from her tortured lungs—
Then the sound of smashing glass knifed into her swimming senses, and the murderous clutch abruptly left her. Still only barely conscious and drawing in rasping breaths, she lay on the floor, convinced she was suffering from a delusion.
There was another Golden Amazon standing in the broken window—a tall, lithe figure in black, a golden belt about her waist and her wealth of blonde hair gleaming in the reflected light. Never had there been such a look of murder in the purple eyes.
“You!” the Martian woman ejaculated, starting back.
“Surprised?” the Amazon enquired stonily, and jumped down into the room.
Behind her came the lumbering figure of Kerrigan.
“Aunt—Aunt Vi—” Ethel choked. “Oh, thank—thank heaven—”
“I don’t like the way you were treating this girl,” the Amazon said briefly. “I was watching from outside the window, deciding on a favourable moment to catch you by surprise so you couldn’t whisk a gun on me—”
“But you intend to whisk one on me, I suppose?” Valina demanded, her gaze lowering to the Amazon’s belt.
“Not at all. Just this—”
The upper cut which landed under the Metrix’s jaw snapped her teeth together, lifted her from her feet and flung her across the desk. She slithered over it, dragging ink and diagrams with her, and crashed in the opposite corner. Dizzily she shook her head, the golden hair fallen into gleaming cascades over her face.
“All right, Amazon, you asked for it,” she whispered at length, getting up. “Don’t forget that I have the same strength as you—and I don’t intend to be beaten, either!”
Kerrigan manoeuvred out of the way as both women, equally tall, identically strong, duplicated in features, suddenly seized each other. The only way he could tell them apart was by the flowing white dress of the Metrix and the black suit of the Amazon.
He helped Ethel to her feet, and in awe they both stood and watched the battle of the giantesses as superhuman strength fought to overpower superhuman strength.
Time and again the Amazon took stunning blows to the head and body, to return blows of equal violence. She crashed to the floor, struck the wall, had a chair smashed across her back, and only just evaded the snapping of her right arm across the Metrix’s knee. Then in a sudden whirlwind ascendancy she grabbed the Martian woman’s ankle and brought her crashing down.
Holding the ankle relentlessly, the Amazon slewed the woman round in a dizzying half-circle and a swirl of draperies. Her head struck the metal bars supporting the electric grating, and immediately her screaming ceased. Motionless, arms flung wide, she lay in the midst of her tangled, multi-coloured clothes.
“That,” the Amazon muttered, breathing stormily as she took hold of the Metrix’s wrist, “has done it.... She’s dead. That blow broke her neck.”
She stood up again, wiping a fleck of blood from her cut cheek.
“In a way,” Kerrigan said, “you killed yourself, Vi! That was your own body, remember!”
“You don’t suppose I’d want it back again after she’d befouled it with her filthy brain, do you?” the Amazon demanded. “This body I have now is an exact duplicate, so losing the original doesn’t matter in the slightest.”
She felt tenderly at the bruises about her shoulders and arms, looked down again in contempt at her image, and then turned her attention to Ethel.
“And you, Rosy Cheeks,” she said dryly. “What started her off? Did you start to talk out of turn, as usual?”
“I told her I didn’t think she was you. Somehow, Aunt Vi, I knew it—She behaved so differently from you....
But where did you spring from?” Ethel hurried on. “She told me that she knew you were coming back to Earth, and that she was ready for you.”
“We guessed she would be,” the Amazon replied, “so we landed in Australia, and came here by night in a jet-plane. I felt pretty sure I would find her using my home—so, there it is. Unless you want an explanation as to how there come to be two Amazons?”
“No—she told me about that.” Ethel began to brighten. “This is wonderful!” she exclaimed. “It’s marvellous to have you back—and you too, Uncle Howard. We all thought you were dead.”
“Not yet,” he grinned. “Though I imagine anything can happen before we’re rid of this infernal menace.”
“Then—then the death of that awful woman isn’t the end of it?” Ethel asked dispiritedly.
“Anything but!” The Amazon shook her head.
“Then—What do we do now?”
“There’s a lot to discuss on both sides,” the Amazon decided, “but I may as well tell it to your father and mother at the same time. The Commander and I will take you home. You have your car here: I noticed it in the driveway. But,” the Amazon warned, before the girl could speak, “you must remember one thing, Rosy. I am still the same Amazon of whom you are suspicious. Tana, too, must think likewise unless—”
Struck with a thought, the Amazon sped softly to the door, snapped back the lock and peered outside. There was no sign of anybody as she looked up and down the dimly lighted hall.
“Tana,” Ethel said, “has probably gone to bed. She told me she had had quite enough of her mistress!”
“I’m not surprised,” the Amazon commented. “Anyway —to resume: Nobody outside of your father and mother, and the Commander, of course, must know the real facts. Otherwise they will get to the people, and from them to the Martians. I’m going to take that creature’s place—as her, and nobody must know the difference. That is vital! You understand?”
Ethel nodded urgently.
“Good! Then when I’ve done a small job we’ll be on our way. Wait here for a moment with your Uncle.”
Stooping, the Amazon swept the dead Metrix over her shoulder and walked with her to a connecting door of the study which, by devious routes, led to her laboratory without touching any other part of the house—and where it was possible Tana might be watching.
In ten minutes the Amazon returned to the study, smilin
g rather tautly to herself.
“The original Amazon is reduced to dispersing smoke,” she announced. “Long live the twin!”
. . . . . . .
An hour later the Amazon, Ethel, Chris and his wife, and Kerrigan were in the big lounge of the Wilson residence, enjoying coffee and sandwiches and exchanging notes.
“How you managed to get away with it and get back, Vi, I just don’t know,” Chris Wilson declared finally, shaking his head. “But then, I never do! You’ve got your own unique way of doing things!”
“The Martians know that Howard and I set off for Earth,” the Amazon continued, “and, if their telescopes are half as good as I suspect, they probably know we landed here too. But they cannot be aware that I have found and killed their Metrix—and that is the important thing. I want to lull them into the belief that their Metrix lives on and that it is the Golden Amazon who has been vanquished. And I can do that, providing none of you let the truth slip out.”
“None of us will,” Chris answered quietly. “You know that. And we can rely on Ruth, too.”
“Ruth must not be told. That would involve sending radio information to Venus, where she is controlling things from headquarters there. The Martians would pick up the information, and that would upset everything. She must still believe, until everything is cleared up, that you, Howard, are dead. And you yourself must lie low—preferably in this house—and not show yourself outside until I think the time is ripe.”
“Okay,” Kerrigan growled. “I appreciate the need for that—but what are you intending to do? We can’t just let things go on rotting away as they are doing—”
“A moment,” the Amazon interrupted; and turned to Chris. “I want some facts from you first, Chris. Have you had any flying saucers on Earth here? We saw them leave Mars. Over the radio we heard that they were approaching Earth—and whilst we were in the void we saw them on the return trip to Mars. They seemed to half-turn with the idea of pursuing us, but I put on speed, and so they kept on going towards Mars.”
“Yes, they’ve been here,” Chris assented. “The Metrix said that they must have come to look round—and, knowing no different, I thought she was speaking the truth.”
“They came,” the Amazon said, “to pick up the first batch of humans into whose bodies Martian brains will be placed. When that is done they will be returned here— more will be taken back—and so it will go on, a deadly shuttle service. Now you see why I must not let the truth leak out. Once those people are brought back they will be Martians, alert for whatever is going on around them and with contacts with their home planet. Looking like Earth people, it will not be possible to tell who they are.”
“I don’t see why we couldn’t blow up the flying saucers as they approach Earth,” Kerrigan remarked.
“And so give away the fact that the Metrix is no longer in charge?” The Amazon shook her head. “No; that wouldn’t do. Let everything go on as planned—for perhaps a week, anyway. Long enough for the Martians to really believe that I am dead. Then I shall make my final and, I hope, my master-move.”
“Which will be?” Ethel asked.
“Never mind!” The Amazon gave an enigmatic smile. “One word in the wrong place would spoil things. I’m not telling it to anybody. Suffice it that I shall return to Mars to put it into operation—and I shall go as the Metrix, in full possession of the Martian language.”
“How can you be?” Chris asked, puzzled.
“I shall keep a watch on the saucers which come to Earth and get an aura-reading on just one of the Martian-Earthlings. Later I will find him—or her—and have his or her brain mechanically read in my laboratory. Since the brain will be Martian, the full language will be there for me to learn.... Then I’ll destroy the creature! One will never be missed. I intend to give these red devils a run for their money before they’ve finished.”
There was a long silence, broken only by the clink of the cups in their saucers; then Chris spoke again.
“As you’ll have gathered, Vi, the Metrix had the idea of withdrawing the shields from all vital spots, which has given the iron-eaters absolute freedom. They’re burrowing everywhere. In about two more months I can’t see that there will be any iron left anywhere!”
“I’ll have finished with these Martians long before two months have passed,” the girl replied, “and then we can definitely stop this iron-eating life. Whilst on Mars I accidentally found the ‘antidote’. It lies in the field of super-sonics.”
“Inaudible sound?” Chris gave a frown. “Mmmm, that’s a bit of a surprise. And you think it might do the trick?”
“Having had plenty of time to think it over, I’m sure it will. Supersonics are used in a variety of ways, particularly around the range of twelve million a second, when we use them for testing flaws in metal. We also know—and have known for fifty years and more—that they can kill animalcules, fish, and other creatures; so there is no reason why the terrific vibration—harmless and inaudible to us—shouldn’t destroy the iron-eaters. I’ll experiment in my lab on a small scale with that test-tube of iron-eaters I have—providing Valina didn’t destroy it—and if it succeeds all we have to do will be to inform the various engineers concerned that supersonic projectors are needed. They won’t know the reason for them, so my identity can still be kept secret. Then, the moment the Martians have been satisfactorily dealt with, the supersonic projectors can be switched on at strategic points in their hundreds of thousands, and this invading army of metal-eaters can be wiped out. Then rebuilding can commence.”
“Yes,” Chris agreed, after a pause, “that sounds logical— though I can’t imagine how you intend to clean up a whole planet—Mars, I mean—and be sure that every being on it is taken care of.”
“There is a way,” the Amazon assured him. “And there are only two thousand Martians, which is a tremendous help....” She got to her feet actively: “Now I’d better return home, get a brief rest, and in the morning I’ll take up the reins where our ambitious Martian Metrix was forced to drop them.”
The following morning, attired in normal clothing, the Amazon arrived for breakfast in her home in the usual way —and deliberately found fault with everything she could in order to cause Tana to have no reason to suspect a switch in identities. Certainly, from the look on the servant’s face, she was only serving her mistress because she could not think of any way to escape her clutches.
Breakfast over, the Amazon retired to her laboratory, and there, safely locked in and with a secret system of negative electricity cloaking the laboratory—by which she was sure that no Martian devices could either see her or hear what she was doing—she experimented in supersonics with the test-tube or iron-eaters, of which tube Valina had evidently not thought it worthwhile to rid herself.
The results of the inaudible sound, beaming into the iron-eaters at 15,000,000 vibrations a second, were exactly as the Amazon had hoped. The cultures shrivelled and dried into brown dust. The fact brought a gleam into her eyes, and from that moment onwards she busied herself with the design of a giant supersonic projector, which design must be handed to the engineers.
During the morning, both Ethel and Chris Wilson visited her—since they had always done so when the Metrix had held sway—and their conversation was chiefly concerned with the growing destruction of iron and all metals with an iron content.
In every great city gaping holes were appearing, and famous buildings and landmarks were vanishing, to the accompaniment of tremendous loss of life and perpetual outcry from the people—who, it appeared, almost preferred Martian domination to the present hell they were forced to endure.
But, so far, the iron-eaters had not moved into surrounding districts where iron was scarce and greenstuff widespread. None the less, just to make sure, the Amazon stopped her projector-sketching for the remainder of the day and instead lined the inside of her laboratory with metal 96 in case the iron-eaters happened to make an attack on the outer walls. If they fell, 96 would remain standing and pres
erve her headquarters and valuable instruments.
To her satisfaction she found, upon checking up on the activities of the Metrix, that the woman had written copious notes in her own language. Though they did not give the Amazon a ready grasp of the Martian tongue, they at least enabled her to seize on certain words in common usage, which she carefully memorized against the day when she might have to use them.
That time came three days after she had returned to Earth, when in the middle of the afternoon the short-wave radio apparatus’s pilot-light gleamed brightly, tuned in to a wave-band she herself had never fixed.
Frowning a little to herself, she switched the instrument on, looking at the transmission gauge as she did so. The needle was hovering around the 39,000,000 mark.
“Mars,” she murmured to herself. “Just as well I made sure, or I’d have spoken in English...So instead she said, “Well?” in the Martian tongue into the super-sensitive microphone and waited for the word to hurtle across the gulf.
Eventually an answer came back in the fluid tones of a Martian, and in her mind’s eye the Amazon pictured the great radio room, where she and Kerrigan had been trapped behind the ventilator-grille.
She listened, her agile mind hurdling across gaps in the sentences which made no sense to her—but the gist of it was plain enough. In essence the message was informing her that twenty ranicawls—flying saucers—were only a million miles from Earth, containing in all forty Earthlings with Martian brains.
“I will attend to the details,” she said deliberately in the Martian tongue, and then switched off before she was called upon to say more. Turning, she pondered for a moment and then switched on the short-wave which connected her directly with Mount Wilson Observatory in California.
The astronomer-in-charge responded.
“A group of twenty flying saucers is approaching from Mars,” the Amazon announced. “Find them in the reflector and report to me when they land—and where.”
Twin of the Amazon Page 12
