Storm on Venus

by R. A. Bentley

  'But darling,' pleaded Maud, 'this is your home. It has always been your home. You love us, don't you?'

  At this, Daphne fell to her knees beside her mother, taking her hands in her own. 'Of course I love you Mummy, and I always shall. But – don't you see? – I have to do this. And I won't be alone, I'll have Charles to take care of me, for of course I'll choose him over those silly tuuntu boys. I'd marry him now if I could.'

  'And you'll have me,' said the Professor.

  'You?' frowned lady Maud.

  'Yes. That is the other concession. It has been agreed that I shall go with Daphne to see her settled in, and bring Freddy and Mr Carstairs with me too, if they are willing. And we shall certainly not be losing her forever, for she will be able to come home for a few weeks now and then to visit. In fact, she will probably be coming back with us, for I doubt we shall be gone for less than a year.'

  'Why yes!' said Daphne. 'And then I'll be able show you all my gold and jewellery and finery, for queens always have lots of those. And if I have to send my own daughter away, why, you can look after her for me! So you really won't be losing me at all.'

  Again, there was complete silence in the room, no-one knowing what to say. Something seemed to strike Charles, who opened his mouth and then, apparently thinking better of it, closed it again.

  'And if you want to know, darling,' said Daphne, seeming to read his thoughts. 'Yes, I have got the Holy Mark of the Voorni.'

  Chapter 7

  The days preceding their departure were hectic indeed. Reminded by the Professor of the need for secrecy, those members of the party not domiciled at Hathercombe Hall returned home to pack and put their affairs in order.

  'Should we have our letters redirected to Venus, I wonder?' mused Freddy. 'And what on earth does one wear aboard a spaceship? White ducks and reefer jacket, I suppose.'

  'Aunt Alice might be more suitable for the post,' chuckled Wilfred from half inside the stair cupboard. 'You can tell her we're going on a cruise. No, on second thoughts perhaps not; she's bound to want to send a telegram and then she'll smell a rat. You haven't seen my old cricket gear have you? I thought it might be just the thing for breaking the ice with the Venusians.'

  'Good idea,' agreed Freddy. 'And what's more, we'd be bound to win.'

  In his dreams, Wilfred was already voyaging through the blackness of space, heading for a world filled with barely imaginable wonders. His immediate priority, however, was to remedy the almost complete deficiency of astronomy in his education. He had well-nigh carpeted the drawing-room floor with books and charts and would often pester the staff at Greenwich Observatory to elucidate this point or that. Too tired to continue his studies by night but too excited to sleep, he would sit for hours on the stone bench in Freddy's little garden, trying to apply what he had learned to the starry firmament. He quickly succeeded in identifying the bright star that was Venus, but whenever he gazed at that tiny, silvery orb his thoughts would inevitably turn to Daphne Lambent. Could any young woman ever have experienced such an amazing change in her circumstances? Just days ago she had been anticipating a life of relative obscurity as plain The Hon. Daphne Prendergast, and now she was to be the all-powerful ruler of an entire world!

  He knew that he could never have her now – one might as well wish for Venus itself – but even that did not diminish his love for her. He had given her his heart and must simply devote himself to her in some other way. He would, he decided, become her chaste champion, her "very parfait gentil knight," ready to die defending her if necessary. And if occasionally she were to smile upon him or offer a kind word, he would consider it sufficient reward. That this would mean remaining on Venus and making a life for himself there did not daunt him in the least. He was used to living among strange peoples in faraway places and had expected, in any case, to continue in the Colonial Service indefinitely. As for filling his spare time, he had it in mind to become a naturalist and study the flora and fauna of the Venusian jungle. The mere business of cataloguing and naming all the plants and creatures there would no doubt occupy him usefully for a lifetime. That and the poetry, of course.

  While Wilfred studied and dreamed, Freddy was determined to enjoy what he secretly believed might be his last days on Earth. He was no longer young and not in the best of health, and who knew what might befall him in the months to come? Better to make hay while the sun shone. Staggering in the small hours into one of his favourite haunts, a rather seedy jazz club off Curzon Street, he wasn't too surprised to find Charles and Bunty cheek to cheek on the little circular dance-floor. At first he thought they might have seen him, but it soon became clear that they had eyes only for each other.

  I shan't tell Wilfred, he thought. It was only natural in a fellow to want to enjoy his remaining bachelor days. Indeed, he immediately thought better of him. Not quite such a stuffed-shirt after all! He wondered if they had first met at Daphne's party or whether they had known each other before. He rather thought the latter. Perhaps Charles had forbidden Bunty to attend and, jealous of Daphne, she had disobeyed. It would certainly explain their behaviour in the orangery. Now they were "making it up."

  Whether it had anything to do with Bunty was unclear, but after a certain amount of huffing and puffing, Charles quite suddenly dropped his objection to Daphne returning to Venus and instead threw himself wholeheartedly into preparing for the voyage. Within a week he had set aside his political ambitions, hired a general manager to run his businesses and even appointed himself to the role of ship's purser. With Lady Maud to advise on quantities, he began making long lists of food and provisions, with the result that Simms soon became well known at Selfridges and Fortnum & Mason as the Hispano toiled back and forth to town.

  'All this is quite unnecessary,' protested the Tuuntu, leading him to a small, dusty storeroom. 'See these sacks? They contain paantu. It is a very nutritious kind of flour, enough for several voyages. It is greatly superior to Earthling flour in that it lasts almost forever. All that is required is water, to make bread.'

  'Ah, water! I hadn't though of that,' said Charles, making a note of it. 'You have storage tanks, presumably, or do you use barrels? I'll see Masters about running a hose up here.' He poked doubtfully at the lumpy, grey material, licking a little from his finger. 'Do you mean to tell me this is all you eat?' he asked, frowning.

  Daphne tried some too, wrinkling her nose in the way that so enchanted and disturbed Wilfred. 'I'm sure it's very nice, Tuuntu, but you wouldn't mind if we brought a few other things, would you — for variety?'

  'Of course, Your Highness. I fall,' said the Tuuntu stiffly. He had already submitted, with a very bad grace, to allowing the throne-room to be used as a hold, there being nowhere else large enough to contain Daphne's considerable wardrobe, several dozen crates of wine and spirits, two gramophones and their records, a card table, a sewing machine, a good deal of cricket gear (for everyone had had the same idea), camping equipment (including three bell-tents, several folding cots, mosquito nets and a thunderbox) an extensive library (some reference, but mostly the lighter kind of novel), butterfly nets, specimen jars, taxidermy equipment, a veritable arsenal of hunting rifles, patent medicines, and all the other things deemed essential by the travelling Englishman, especially when visiting the tropics. 'This is not a cargo ship,' was his constant complaint. 'It is the Royal Ship.'

  Clearly in awe of Lady Maud, he made little protest when she insisted on loading the piano – 'You did say there are none on Venus, and Daphne must have her practice' – but he fought hard against the billiard table.

  'I think we'll have it here,' said Freddy, indicating where the sweating gardeners should set it down. 'You need a fair amount of room to wield the jolly old cue, don't you know? I doubt we'd get it up the stairs anyway, even if we dismantled it.'

  'Billiards!' squeaked the Tuuntu. 'Billiards in the throne room! Never! I forbid it!'

  The Migraani was sitting at the piano, trying to pick out a tune. 'Please don't concern yourself, Tuuntu,'
she said. 'You should know by now that Earthmen are never happy unless they're playing some game. If Her Highness doesn't object, I really don't see why you should.'

  'No, I don't mind,' smiled Daphne, settling down beside her. 'It makes it more homely in here, don't you think? Should you like me to show you Chopsticks? One plays it as a duet.'

  'What is a duet?'

  'I fall,' sighed the Tuuntu, bowing out unnoticed.

  The Migraani's part in the expedition was now clear. She was to be a combination of lady-in-waiting, companion and governess to her new queen, particularly the latter, for during the three months of the voyage Daphne must necessarily learn a great deal. To this end she immediately instituted a strict timetable of morning lessons, with regular tests and no excuses accepted for non-attendance; a daunting prospect indeed for a previously carefree young woman who had imagined her schooldays were long behind her.

  Had the Migraani remained as forbidding as when she first arrived, such a fate might have been almost insupportable, but since then her character had undergone a decided change. Perhaps surprisingly, she granted her new queen no special deference. Instead she seemed to be developing a genuine personal respect, even fondness, for her. In the schoolroom, a formal distance was maintained, but when the day's work was done, the two could often be found chatting amicably together on those trivial subjects beloved of women everywhere. On these occasions the Migraani would call for tea, brewed very strong, and also smoke the foul-smelling Venusian cigarettes, so that Daphne no longer felt inhibited about doing the same.

  'I expect she was just wary of her,' opined Freddy. 'After all, here is an unknown young woman who is going to be your absolute monarch. She might be a spoiled brat or as cruel as a Borgia and you wouldn't know.'

  'I suppose that's true,' said Wilfred. But it seemed likely to him that this welcome transformation had begun on the day they had discovered the ill-used thaal crying out for help. Perhaps, he thought, she had admired Daphne's spirit in standing up to her, or had been moved by her obvious concern for another's suffering, even though she thought it misplaced.

  Whatever the reason, it was a new, softer Migraani who presided over the "return match," as Freddy liked to call it; a meal carefully calculated to be neither more nor less sumptuous than that supplied by the Lambents. Alas, this time there was no magic pineapple. They were, it seemed, a delicacy of the utmost rarity, the plant from which they came only fruiting every hundred years. 'I think you have a beautiful ship,' said Maud, as they parted company. 'And I believe now that Daphne will be in good hands.' At which remark her hostess was definitely, if fleetingly, seen to smile.

  As for the stricken thaal, the poor creature remained very ill and bedridden, the Professor's diagnosis being that he was suffering from blood-poisoning. He would not permit a vet to be sent for, fearing, probably rightly, that he could not be trusted to keep his mouth shut. But medicines were somehow obtained and Cook was kept busy making calf's foot jelly, beef tea and other invalid fare.

  The Migraani did not interfere in this, but she would not countenance Daphne continuing to care for him. 'You must see now why it is impossible,' she said.

  'Then it will have to be Agnes,' said Daphne. 'I can think of no-one else.'

  Fortunately the little maid was fond of animals and when she was introduced to her exotic charge it was a case of love at first sight.

  'To do such a thing to a poor, dumb creature!' she declared. 'That Tuuntu ought to be reported for cruelty, Miss Daphne, really he ought.'

  It soon began to appear that she had misplaced her vocation, for her tender and skilful dressing of his severely infected wounds would not have disgraced a nurse, and when he at last began to recover, she continued to spend much of her spare time with him, combing the scabs from his fur or simply keeping him company in his lonely little room.

  On dragging their belongings up the narrow, curving stairs, the Earthlings quickly discovered that the ship was as eccentric within as without. Its hull was dominated by the cavernous main deck, a space even larger than it first appeared, for what Wilfred had noted only as a carved screen proved to be the elaborate facade of what might best be described as the royal pavilion. This tent-like construction of wood and garishly striped canvas was apparently designed to be struck at short notice and erected wherever the Queen-Goddess might be visiting. Here, Daphne and the Migraani were to live in opulent if somewhat crepuscular splendour, each with her own sumptuously appointed suite. Everyone else, including the Tuuntu, had to make do with the cramped and Spartan quarters opening off the upper gallery. Their sleeping cabins were very small and necessarily shaped like wedges of cheese, so that one could only stand properly upright just inside the door. Even in the public areas the Professor was the only one who could get about without constantly stooping under the complex tracery of beams. Here, the ceilings and walls were simply the curved plating of the hull, with nothing to separate them from the deadly chill of space but a half-inch of shiny, yellowish metal. This material, found throughout the ship, was to prove ubiquitous in all Venusian construction. Its name was translated by the Venusians themselves as bronze, although it bore little resemblance to that ancient alloy, or to any other found on Earth.

  A good deal of space was given over to propulsion and navigation. The humming engine-room, entered by a single, narrow hatchway, occupied fully the aftermost quarter of the vessel's length, while the upper part of its peculiar bulbous head contained the ship's bridge, a brightly lit room, gratifyingly lined with the dials, switches and flickering glass tubes proper to such an advanced mode of transportation. Right in the bow was the steersman's position, the floor on either side being cut away to provide him with an almost unimpeded view through the ship's immense, multifaceted "eyes," while behind him were three rows of reclining chairs, intended for the passengers and crew during the potentially hazardous manoeuvres of takeoff and landing. The back wall was dominated by what best resembled an enormous translucent watch-glass, perhaps four feet in diameter, surrounded by a calibrated black bezel. A flick of a switch revealed it to be an ingenious three-dimensional map or chart of the solar system, with all the planets, moons, and other heavenly bodies somehow suspended within it.

  It was on the bridge that two of the future voyagers were to be found one morning, gazing at what resembled a miniature but opaque version of the map, set upon the wall beside it.

  'I think you will find this interesting,' said Charles. 'Allow me to demonstrate. First, I want you to imagine that I'm a gypsy fortune teller, and this is my crystal ball.'

  Wilfred smiled at this uncharacteristic flight of fancy. 'Does that mean I have to cross your palm with silver? Only I seem to find myself a bit short at the moment.'

  'You can owe it to me,' said Charles laconically. 'Now, let us say you are enquiring the whereabouts of the Migraani. I adjust this dial, mutter some suitable incantation . . .'

  'Abracadabra?' suggested Wilfred.

  Charles sighed longsufferingly. 'Yes, all right — abracadabra. Perhaps I should not have used that particular analogy. And there she is! Ingenious eh?'

  Wilfred was amazed to see the previously milky surface slowly clear to reveal a perfect Migraani in miniature, deep in conversation with an equally tiny Tuuntu. 'I say, how frightfully clever! Why, that's the entrance to the throne room. One can see the doors and the axemen. I wonder how it's done — a system of mirrors perhaps?'

  'I believe you'll find it's electrical,' said Charles, 'rather like the wireless but transmitting pictures instead of sound. Are you familiar with Baird's televisor?'

  'I've read about it.'

  'Well, I believe this may work on similar principles. Baird's is somewhat experimental at present, but its use aboard this ship convinces me of its future potential. My point in showing it to you is that there appears to be nothing miraculous or impenetrable about the Venusian technology; it's simply a more developed version of our own. I'm sure that given time one could perfectly understand the function and
design principles of everything in this room.'

  'No doubt that's true,' agreed Wilfred. 'It would certainly be fascinating to know how all these gadgets work, or even what they are.'

  Charles smiled condescendingly. 'Fascinating, you say? It's a good deal more than that! Don't you see? We have here the opportunity to advance our technical knowledge by several hundred years at a stroke. Just imagine; with a few ships like this, England would be forever invincible.'

  Wilfred stared at the other man in sudden contempt. Was this the real reason why he was now so eager to go to Venus — not to love and protect Daphne, but to discover the secrets of their technology? He was inclined to say something sharp by way of reply but at that moment the Tuuntu, whose image had disappeared from the viewer, came bounding through the door beside them. During his passage up the stairs he had exchanged the worried expression he had worn when talking to the Migraani for a rather forced air of bonhomie.

  'Ah, gentlemen!' he cried. 'Exploring, I see. Be careful what you touch or we might find ourselves prematurely on our way! Tell me Mr Prendergast, I have been meaning to ask, is it true that you are bringing your servant with you?'

  'Simms? Yes,' said Charles, suspiciously. 'What of it?'

  'Oh, do not misunderstand me; it is natural that you should want him. But I understand from the Migraani that he is a very fine driver, of the motor car.'

  Charles glanced quizzically at Wilfred. 'Yes he is. Why do you ask?'

  The Tuuntu pursed his lips, as if debating whether to confide to them a particularly sensitive secret. 'I was simply wondering – that is to say, if you could spare a little of his time – whether he would be able to add to his duties the driving of this ship.'