Conquest of the Amazon

by John Russell Fearn

  The Amazon smiled. “And very wise, too. Sorry, Chris. That was all you could do. I still have my London laboratory, anyway, and that’s where I’m going.”

  “But you can’t take the risk, Vi, with the danger from the glaciers. When they reach Britain, as they soon will, you’ll—”

  “There are ways of keeping a lab like mine clear of a glacier,” the Amazon said. “You agree, Abna?”

  He nodded. “We can equip the laboratory with an energy shield which will counteract the cold. There is work to be done — to trace this atomium.”

  The Amazon said: “Get your luggage, Chris. Abna will fly both of us to London.”

  Chris nodded and hurried back to the house. He reappeared, a suitcase in his hand, and climbed into the flyer’s control room. The Amazon and Abna followed him in, and the journey began.

  “Is this thing driven by atomic power?” Chris questioned, when at 10,000 feet they began a soundless onrush.

  Abna smiled and half turned in the control chair. “I don’t wish to sound egotistical, Mr. Wilson, but to us of Jupiter, atomic force is what gunpowder is to you of Earth — ancient! This ship flies as it does by cutting out gravitation below and behind and using the mass attraction of objects ahead, such as mountains, oceans, and so forth.”

  ‘To me, just a dream,” the Amazon whispered, gazing at him. “I have always known, Abna, that that is true power. Bending natural forces to your own use, make them do the work — but I never mastered the scientific principles.”

  “I will show you some day, in less strained circumstances,” he promised.

  Conscious that he was in the presence of scientific genius Chris held his peace; then he became attentive as with a flick of a button Abna switched on the radio. An announcer’s voice, speaking in English, came through.

  “The latest bolometer reading of the sun, taken from Everest shows the temperature of the sun to still be falling, ranging at present in the order of 10,000 centigrade. Canada, northern Europe and Asia are now almost empty of people. Pack-ice is jamming the North Sea. The Great Glacier, which has its birth in the North Polar regions, is spreading irregularly and has now completely enveloped Greenland and Iceland and part of northern Canada. It is extending eastward toward Sweden, the British Isles and west Europe. From the south another glacier is approaching to meet it. The southernmost tips of Australia and Africa are no more than a day’s distance from it at its present rate of progress.” “Cheerful, isn’t it?” Chris muttered, glancing up as the announcer paused for a moment.

  Neither the Amazon nor Abna spoke. Their faces were grim and thoughtful.

  “Three more shelters have been opened in the London area,” the announcer resumed, “one of them containing radio headquarters from which these bulletins will henceforth be broadcast. Interviewed today in his headquarters shelter, Brice Torrington, the metals tycoon and supply magnate for the shelters, said they can withstand the Great Glacier when it comes. The underworld is insulated and sheathed, and the metal walls are composed of iron, aluminium, beryllium, titanium, tungsten, silver and lead, in varying layers. All ventilation arrangements have been made and there seems to be no doubt—”

  The Amazon reached out and switched off the radio.

  “I owe Torrington a good deal,” she said slowly, “and also Morris Arnside and Ralph Swainson, his two colleagues, for what they tried to do to me, but perhaps it had better wait. If Torrington is making a good job of the shelters there would be no sense in wiping him out. Besides, I am too desperately pushed for time in solving my own problems. Personal scores can be cleared up later.”

  “You know these men better than I do, Miss Brant,” Abna commented. “It is for you to say.”

  “Do you think anything could be gained by some of the people — say the cream of the populace — going to your planet?” Chris asked. “You seem to have a pleasant land on this—er — Great Red Spot of Jupiter.”

  “True,” Abna agreed, “but as things are, with so many people here already domiciled below, I doubt if anything could be done. It would need thousands of space machines, tremendous organization—”

  “It is better,” the Amazon interrupted, “to conquer our own difficulties. Abna, I’ve set myself to rekindle the dying sun, and I’ll do it. Here and there maybe you will be able to help.”

  “Gladly,’’Abna agreed, with that half tolerant smile. “Further.” the Amazon hurried on, “it is better nobody sees me in the underworld; it might only inflame the people needlessly, thinking as they do about me after Torrington’s propaganda against me. When they see results — such as a rekindled sun — then they will have to believe, and that will be the time to take care of Torrington for the injustice he has inflicted upon me.”

  As the dim grey outlines of Britain began to appear, Chris turned towards his suitcase.

  “I brought furs with me,” he said. “I’ve an idea I’m going to need them.” He peered outside on the vessel. The outer plates were white with frost but the window was clear by reason of the defreezing equipment.

  “There are furs for us in the locker, Miss Brant,” Abna said, glancing around from the control board. “I came prepared for any eventuality from tropic to arctic. You’d better get ready.”

  The Amazon turned to the storage compartment and put on one of the fur suits, with its big comfortable hood, face shield, and automatically heated gloves. Abna slipped in the automatic pilot for a moment or two while he too prepared; then masked like Arctic explorers, they stood looking through the window as, under the Amazon’s directions, Abna began to lower the vessel.

  “The main shelter I’m seeking is near Charing Cross,” Chris said. “If you’ll put me down there I’ll find my way.”

  “Best method,” the Amazon agreed. “We’ll be on our way again before anybody has the chance to ask questions.” The machine dropped swiftly, buffeted by wind screaming out of the north. The sun had set and the cold, biting darkness of the Arctic night had descended. Using powerful floodlights, Abna guided his machine with unerring skill, sweeping low over rooftops and finally down into the very heart of London. He could do so in safety. There was no traffic worth mentioning. No street lights were functioning.

  “Look after yourselves,” Chris said, as the airlock was opened and a frigid blast made him gasp for a moment. “We’ll be counting on you.”

  “By, Chris ...” Vi’s gloved hand grasped his for a moment, and Abna did likewise — then Chris was gone into the darkness, his suitcase clenched in his fingers.

  Chapter XI

  Swiftly Abna shut the airlock and swept the vessel up into the air again to rooftop level.

  “Where now?”he questioned.

  “Only a mile or two; my home is on the city outskirts.”

  Abna nodded and asked no more questions, concentrating on following out the Amazon’s directions as she peered into the dark through the windows. So, without passing a single aircraft, her out-town residence was reached. Gently Abna brought the machine down outside a massive annexe to the house.

  “It’s the hangar for my spaceship, the Ultra," the Amazon explained, moving the sheath from the door. “If you will wait a moment I’ll go inside and open the roof for you, then you can bring your vessel inside to safety. There’ll be room enough for it.”

  Abna nodded and the Amazon stepped outside. Quickly she hurried around the annexe to the front door of her home, opened the combination lock, and stepped inside. There was a dark silence greeting her. Her maid and confidant, Tana, was missing. Evidently she had joined the shelter refugees, convinced that her mistress was never returning.

  Switching on the cold-lights as she went, the Amazon hurried through the house, the laboratory, and then to the hangar. A switch set the roof opening into two segments and presently Abna’s strange craft came into view and came down gently in the flare of the flood-lamps. The Amazon closed the roof after him and he stepped from the machine, loosening his furs as he did so. He gave the shining ovoid of the Ultra an inte
rested study as he passed it.

  “Lovely design,” he commented, “but a trifle antique.”

  “It suits my purpose,” the Amazon answered, nettled. “If you’ll come into the house I’ll fix a meal for us.”

  He followed her through the laboratory, where again he had a strangely amused expression as he glanced about him on the complicated instruments — and so into the big lounge. The Amazon switched on the atoheaters, drew the window shades, and then took off her furs.

  “You’ll find all the necessities for freshening up on the first floor, third door,” she said. “I’ll be back shortly.” Instead of freshening up the young giant followed her across the hall and into the kitchen regions. This was a territory which in the ordinary way she never invaded, but Tana’s absence now made it imperative. In silence Abna watched as the Amazon gathered together food in tabloid form and some bottles of restorative.

  “I’ll carry the tray,” he volunteered, as she added plates, glasses, and small silver tongs.

  The Amazon shrugged. “Very well.”

  They went into the lounge once more and sat with the meal on a low table. Abna said:

  “I suppose we’re at fault. You and I, alone in this house of yours. From the technical point, however, as partners, there is nothing else we can do.”

  “Nothing,” the Amazon agreed, “and while we are on the subject, let me affirm my earlier statement — that we are strictly scientific partners, working together to restore a dying sun. There is nothing more to our association than that.”

  “Of course not.” He smiled upon her pleasantly. “Why should you assume there is?”

  “I’m not. I’m just reminding you.”

  “Oh.” Abna drank the restorative, his reddish-blue eyes fixed on the girl. They seemed to be laughing while his handsome face remained serious.

  When they had finished their refreshment the Amazon led the way to the laboratory and motioned to the instruments. “Everything here is at your disposal,” she said.

  Abna went to the queerly fashioned occiligraph. Switching it on, he watched the wild, wavy lines blurring up and down the screen.

  “Electronic energy from the sun spots,” the Amazon explained. “They penetrate the Earth, of course, which is why the apparatus functions even though the sun is below the horizon.”

  “I see ...” Abna glanced around him. “And which is your detector for atomium?”

  The Amazon moved to a massive switch panel, lined with dials. She switched on the power from the atomic generators and the apparatus began to operate. The girl pointed to a needle flawlessly balanced inside a sealed vacuum globe.

  “That’s the detector itself,” she said. “That needle, if there were not so much solar interference, would swing instantly to wherever the nearest atomium may be lying, principally because it is made to be sensitive to any great mass of energy — and atomium is more or less pure energy condensed into a solid. Before the sun spots became so severe the needle worked perfectly. You see it now — lifeless.”

  Abna nodded but he did not say anything. He turned to the workbench with its litter of tools and equipment, and began to fashion an instrument. The Amazon watched him, a frown gathering.

  “Is it a secret — or can you tell me what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Hardly a secret. A better term would be ‘incomprehensible’ — to you, that is.”

  “You haven’t a particularly high opinion of my scientific prowess, have you?” she asked drily.

  “I have, but I know your limitations. You do not, for instance, know the precise wave-length of negative force necessary to counteract the sun’s interference.”

  “I never heard of negative energy,” the Amazon responded, “and for another thing — if you know so much about it, why didn’t you use it on Jupiter when you found the sun interfering with your contact with Earth?”

  “I tried to, but my father would not listen. He said I only wanted non-interference so that I could study you, and therefore he considered the idea was needless.”

  “I’m flattered,” the Amazon murmured.

  He went on working industriously. There came once more to the Amazon the curious feeling of being dominated, but on this occasion it caused her less resentment. Abna had a way of being master of a situation without making her feel small. Deep down she realized she was undergoing emotional transitions such as she had never known before in her intensely individual, scientific life.

  Rather than disturb Abna’s concentration, she sat down and remained silent, watching.

  It was close on midnight when he had finished. He relaxed and considered his work — rather like a highly complicated radio receiver—then he smiled at the Amazon.

  “There it is,” he said. “Fortunately you had all the necessities here. Now, let us see.”

  Picking the instrument up he went over to the atomium detector and wired it and his own apparatus together.

  “Switch on the power,” he said, and the Amazon closed the knife-switch. Then she stared — first at the occiligraph from which all trace of solar interference had gone, leaving a blank screen — and then at the detector needle which was pointing diagonally downward.

  “It works!” she ejaculated.

  “Naturally,” Abna said. “Your detector is now shielded by a core of negative energy which repels outside interference. To explain more than that would involve physics of such a high order that even you would not understand — with all due respect to your genius, Miss Brant.”

  The Amazon was too delighted with results to take offence. She looked at the needle intently, pressed a button which set an automatic calculator to work, and then she examined the readings. She became puzzled.

  “I don’t quite understand why the needle should be pointing down instead of up,” she said. “Atomium exists in outer space in meteorite form, which is where I expect to find it — yet here we have a reading which shows the nearest atomium to 7,200 miles away, to the southwest of this spot. How could that be?”

  “You are sure,” Abna asked, “that this instrument records the nearest atomium, whether it be in large or small quantity?”

  “Certainly — and no other can register until the nearer one is removed and put out of the detector’s range.”

  “Then the explanation is simple. There is atomium on or about the rocket ship from which I rescued you, and which is now lying at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. That is where the recording is coming from.”

  “Why, of course!” The Amazon gazed blankly in front of her for a moment “When that mass of atomium hit the rocket ship parts of it must have been chipped off and lodged in crevices in the rocket, by which means they were transported back to Earth. That means we’ve got to fly back to the Pacific immediately — and go down into it with a detector until we locate the stuff.”

  “My machine can go under water,’’Abna said.

  “So can the Ultra — and I prefer to use it. After all, this is my problem more than yours and it would be better if I used my own instruments.”

  Chapter XII

  The Amazon switched on the radio. “World weather reports may still be being given for the evacuation fliers,” she said. “If we can get an idea of the conditions we can decide whether to go now or to wait for the weather clearing a little. A few hours won’t make much difference.”

  The radio came into life in the midst of the midnight bulletin, the weather report due to follow after it.

  “... and it can only be assumed,” the announcer said, “that faulty material or some engineering error caused the collapse. Whatever the basic trouble, many people have been trapped by the subsidence and the short-wave radio which the entombed survivors have with them has stated that many well-known people have been killed or seriously injured. Among those badly hurt are Miss Ethel Wilson, the daughter of the space line director for Earth — while those dead include—”

  The Amazon switched off, her face bleak. She whirled round on Abna.

  “Did
you hear that?” she said. “The very thing I have been fearing! A faulty shelter has collapsed and my foster-niece is one of those injured! She clenched her fist. “When I said I would delay dealing with Torrington and his friends until later I made a mistake. I’m going to deal with them now — tonight — once I’ve discovered how Ethel is. That won’t be the only shelter to collapse. Others will follow. Torrington is out to make a fortune from a national calamity. That demands action and my own personal account is overdue.”

  “You have thought what it may mean if you appear among the people?” Abna asked. “You said you wanted to keep away from them.”

  “That was before I heard about Ethel.” The Amazon was already hurrying towards the laboratory door. “What they need is a leader who has their interests at heart. We’ll head for the Charing Cross shelter, and since we’re going in the Ultra it might be a good idea if you put your machine on top of it. We might need both.”

  “I’ll do that,’’Abna agreed promptly.

  “I’ll join you as soon as I change into flying kit.”

  When the Amazon reappeared she was in a one-piece garment of black with a gold belt about her waist. Abna, turning from surveying his machine secured to the top of the Ultra, smiled as he watched her lithe advance.

  “That is how I have mostly seen you attired,” he said. “When watching you from my home world. We look kinfolk — I in my yellow; you in your black.”

  “I’ve no time to discuss pleasantries,” the Amazon interrupted him.”Let’s be on our way ...”

  It was only when the Amazon had launched her massive craft into the night — Abna’s machine being carried pick-a-back style — that she and the giant beside her realized how frightful were the conditions. The cloud ceiling was zero-zero; the wind velocity 100 m.p.h. as low as 2,000 feet. The blaze of the searchlights from the Ultra’s prow only revealed whirling snow and cataracts of frozen rain beating on the impregnable windows.

  Inside the warm control cabin, surrounded by the soft glow of the cold-light tubes and the flickering of a multitude of needles on their dials, the two felt no discomfort. Their only consciousness of the inclemency outside lay in the rocking of the vessel as its powerful atom plant drove it from the outskirts of the city to the centre.