“You have your blundering friend the Commander to thank for this, Miss Brant,” she commented. “The rope he snatched down was part of an old bell-cord system for summoning servants. Unfortunate choice on his part, was it not?”
“I’ll be a...” Kerrigan breathed, his craggy face darkening.
“Take them both out,” Valina ordered. “Number One Surgery. I will follow in a moment.”
The Amazon remained passive as the guns pointed at her; then, with Kerrigan at her side, she went from the great room, and the guards, with Thraxal at the head, closed in in a marching circle. Long vistas of shining corridors were traversed until at length the party passed through double doorways into what was obviously a gigantic operating theatre. Here Thraxal called a halt and, though covered with weapons from a distance, the Amazon and Kerrigan were left to themselves.
“Vi, you can’t let this Martian creature get away with this!” Kerrigan insisted. “It’ll be the end of you—and of Earth too! Just think of it—her brain in your body! There’ll be nothing but chaos.”
“I know it, Howard, clearly as you do—but what move can I make?” The Amazon glanced about her, upon the surgery, at the instruments, the guards, the distant figures of surgeons evidently awaiting their orders. “I can’t fight these odds,” she finished bitterly.
Kerrigan was about to speak further, and then stopped as Valina herself entered the surgery, walking with her usual majestic carriage. She motioned a surgeon to her and addressed him in her own language. He listened, gave a nod, and then the Amazon and Kerrigan found themselves directed to two tall frame-like structures, in front of which they were ordered to stand.
They did so, passively, and electrical apparatus hummed for a while and then stopped. From the back of each frame (he surgeon removed what appeared to be a gigantic negative of each body, wonderfully intricate, with every fragment of bone, muscle, and internal organ revealed.
Valina studied the negatives at the surgeon’s side, exchanged a conversation, and then turned to the Amazon.
“Your body, Miss Brant, is even more valuable than I had imagined,” she said. “You reveal muscular co-ordinates ten times normal—which I shall doubtless find of great advantage.... As for you, Commander Kerrigan, I had hoped to use your magnificent physique as a carrier for Thraxal’s brain, but there are difficulties. You are not suitable.”
Kerrigan could not help looking relieved, but all the same he was curious.
“Why, am I ill?” he asked in surprise.
“Hardly,” the Metrix responded dryly, “but the years you have spent in the Venusian climate have made your resistance to Earth conditions much weaker than we would like. No; you would not be a successful carrier....” The woman waved her hand. “Imprison him until I decide what to do with him,” she ordered, and took no more notice as, struggling savagely in the grip of the seven-foot guards, Kerrigan was hauled from the surgery and the doors closed.
“You will not find this operation painful, Miss Brant,” Valina continued, as the Amazon gazed at her in cold venom. “You will lose consciousness as Violet Ray Brant, and will recover it as Valina, the Metrix of Valdon. The only difference will be that you will have none of the authority I possess, and will be imprisoned until such time as I decide whether or not to use my body again.”
As the Amazon made no response, Valina gestured sharply, and six of the tall, powerfully built surgeons came forward. From sheer desperation the Amazon lashed out and struggled with all the strength she possessed, but though she gave the surgeons a rough handling, they never once lost their grip on her. Her struggles ended when she was strapped down on a long table, her head within range of curious and practically incomprehensible instruments. She lay breathing hard, watching as Valina calmly stretched herself on an adjoining table and submitted to being strapped into position.
“Thank you, Miss Brant, for providing such a wonderful body for me,” she murmured—and before the Amazon could answer acrid-smelling gas surged about her face, and she felt herself slide into a bottomless abyss.
Commander Kerrigan, sitting brooding on one of the several hard beds in his enormous cell, looked up expectantly as under electrical impulse the lock on the cell door moved back. He jumped up and then paused as a figure was bundled into the dim light and fell sprawling helplessly across the floor.
The door closed again automatically.
Kerrigan stooped and helped the figure up, then he stepped back in grim disgust, not unmixed with surprise, as a dishevelled Valina in purple robes stood gazing at him from amidst tumbled black hair.
“What’s the matter, Howard? Don’t you know me?” asked the woman’s strangely clipped voice.
Kerrigan gave a start and looked closely at the exotic, darkly beautiful face in the glimmer of light.
“My God, you—you mean that hell cat did it? That it’s you, Vi, in her body?”
“What else?” she asked gloomily, and, wandering to one of the beds, she sat down on the edge of it and drove a hand through her thick hair. Kerrigan came across and sat down beside her.
“All else apart,” he said, “it seems to have been an amazingly brilliant operation.”
“No doubt of that: all credit to the surgical wizardry of the Martians—but our own position is appalling! Before I was brought here—and incidentally you and I are together because this is the only prison on the planet, there is so little crime—Valina told me that she now intends to go to Earth, in my Ultra to lend conviction, and convince the rank and file of humanity that she is me. You know what that will mean. She’ll lead everybody to complete destruction, since that’s her avowed intention.”
“And everybody—including Chris, his wife, Ethel, and my wife—will assume that she is you, not knowing what has gone on.” Kerrigan clenched his fists. “If only there were something we could do about it. Get a radio message through to Earth, or find a way of escaping.”
The girl was silent for a long time, pondering. Then she gave a heavy sigh.
“I just can’t think of anything,” she said. “With this body, strong though it is for a normal woman, I feel positively weak compared to the strength I did have. It has only one advantage: I can breathe properly. Also it feels light against the gravity, even though it is normal weight to counterbalance it. The reason for that, I imagine, is because my brain—which controls the body—is attuned to Earth gravity, and I can’t outgrow it.... My strongest weapon, physical power, has been taken from me. Fortunately my brain is unimpaired by the transference, but even that doesn’t help much. If we could get out of this cell, it would at least be a start.”
“Not much hope of that, I’m afraid. No way out at all. I’ve been all round the cell, and it’s completely solid. In fact, I think the walls are made of 96. Take a look for yourself.”
The Amazon got up, and Kerrigan stood watching her tall, black-haired, purple-gowned figure with the voluminous skirt as she paced majestically to different parts of the cell. He still could not fully realize that he was talking to Violet Ray Brant and not the cynical Metrix of the red planet.
“Yes, it is 96,” the Amazon assented finally, “and therefore there is nothing we can do about it without weapons—But wait! There may be something else.”
She went down on her knees and studied the curiously fashioned lock on the metal door.
“It’s electrical,” Kerrigan said, walking over to her. “Works by remote control from somewhere, apparently.”
“And very simple remote control, too,” the Amazon murmured. “Do you know, it's a curious fact, but brilliant though these people are, they are quite simple in some forms of science. Of course, it is the same with any race: their achievements are greater in one direction than in another. What I mean is that this lock is the simplest contrivance imaginable. Just an actuation-bar held in place by an electric current. Mmmm.... Very interesting.”
She thought the problem out for a while, and then felt at her flowing gown hurriedly.
“Confound the
woman!” she said irritably. “She doesn’t use anything resembling a pin. What have you got, Howard?”
He felt in his pockets, and from one of them finally produced a bronze shield embossed with “Senior Commandant, Dodd Space Line”. From the back of it he snapped off the straight pin bar and handed it over.
“This should just do,” the girl said presently, after she had worked the pin carefully between the frame of the door and lock’s main bar. “When the current is withdrawn the bar should draw back, and then shoot into position again when the current is restored. In this case it will draw back all right, carrying the pin with it—and jamming itself. It won’t relock.”
“But suppose that creates a short-circuit at the controlling end?” Kerrigan asked anxiously.
“No reason why it should, any more than a fuse blows when a bulb dies. The current will flow normally, but it just won’t be doing its job. In any case, if the lock does jam, we’ll wait for a while and see what happens: if nothing does we’ll try and get out.”
“I’m with you,” Kerrigan said promptly. “The chief thing that is worrying me is that we have no weapons. They took my gun from me, and you certainly haven’t anything— not even your muscles any more.”
The girl straightened up and looked at him. “We’ve only two things to help us now, Howard—your physique and my ingenuity. We may get through....”
CHAPTER VII
Chris Wilson was both surprised and delighted when four days after the Amazon’s departure for Mars he received an urgent visiphone message from her home, asking him to come immediately.
Obeying the summons, he abandoned his work at the Dodd Corporation and arrived at the girl’s home around ten-thirty in the morning. He found the woman whom he took to be the Golden Amazon in the lounge, and she— having read every detail of the Amazon’s mind before taking over her identity—was perfectly confident that she would be able to give a convincing performance. Home life, friends, accomplishments, fears: she knew everything the Amazon knew, but for all that there still lingered the fear that there were some things, inherent in the Amazon, that she had not discovered. If once she made a mistake—! But she would not. She dared not.
“Morning, Chris,” she greeted him, as Tana showed him in.
He nodded cordially. “Glad you’re back, Vi, though I didn’t expect you so soon. And do you think it’s particularly wise? The police are still looking for you, don’t forget—or rather they’re waiting.”
“I came during the night, with no lights on the Ultra, and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t observed,” the Metrix of Mars responded. “Even if the authorities did see me and commence to investigate, I’ll be ready for them. I’ve no time to stand on ceremony—”
“Where’s Howard?” Chris interrupted, puzzled. “Didn’t he come back with you, or has he joined his wife on Venus?” The woman was silent, and Chris gave a start as he noticed her grim expression.
“Good heavens, Vi, you don’t mean he’s—dead?”
“Yes, that is what I mean,” she answered quietly. “When we got to Mars there was a reception party waiting for us, hidden. Howard and I had no sooner left the Ultra than we were attacked. He, like a fool, put up a resistance and got himself killed. I had to run for my life, and only just succeeded in escaping.... I cruised around for a while, blasted all the Martians I could find with my guns, and then I came back here. I’ve decided there is little I can do on Mars. I’ll have to work it out from here, after all.”
“Good old Howard... dead,” Chris whispered, horrified. “I just can’t credit it.... It’s not going to be an easy job to break it to Ruth.”
Valina shrugged. “Just one of those things, Chris—though I don’t want to appear callous. Anyway, to return to business, I sent for you to find out how far you have progressed in the construction of those shields for vital utilities and buildings.”
With an effort Chris pushed the “tragedy” of Kerrigan into the back of his mind.
“Everything’s going perfectly,” he replied. “Throughout England, Europe, and America all vital spots are now guarded—enough to be sure that a skeleton power service can function without fear of attack from those infernal iron-eaters. They’re still at it, of course, and each day brings its list of things destroyed and buildings smashed—but the more 96 we turn out, the stronger we become. We’ll beat the things finally, and maybe in time you’ll find an ‘antidote’.”
“I’ve been thinking the business over very carefully whilst I’ve been away, Chris,” the woman said slowly. “Space gives you the chance to do that: to make plans which the speed of modem civilization prevents. Now I’ve seen Mars and learned about its people—I stayed long enough to do that—I’ve arrived at the conclusion that the only way to beat them is to let them think that they have won.”
“Oh?” Chris looked a little puzzled and waited.
“As you know,” Valina continued, a trifle vaguely, “I have various means of making discoveries: that was how I managed to learn—telepathically—of the intentions of the Martians. They mean to destroy us if they can, both with iron-eaters and war propaganda, and the more we resist the tougher they’ll become. I think their science is so far ahead of ours that we can never beat them just by resistance... but we can by letting them think they have conquered. Once they are satisfied on that, they will all come here and try to take over. Once they attempt that, we have them—walking right into the trap.”
“Uh-huh,” Chris agreed, pondering. “I can see that. But surely their huge numbers will overwhelm us if they’re as scientific as you say?”
“There are only two thousand of them all told. I discovered that much.... So,” Valina proceeded, before Chris could ask a question, “I’ve decided to alter our plans completely—to hoodwink these Martian devils into thinking they have triumphed. Naturally it will destroy our civilization to do it, reduce humanity almost to the status of troglodytes, but if in the end it wipes out the menace and gives us Mars as a colony-planet it will have been worth it, don’t you think? There’s no other way of ever being sure that the Martians are beaten.”
Chris reflected for a while as he weighed matters up. Then he said in rather an odd voice:
“Naturally, you are our undisputed scientific leader, Vi— and you’ve been to Mars and seen everything where we have not. You know what we are up against. But all the same it won’t be easy to convince the people that self-destruction is the only way to victory.”
The “Amazon” gave a slow, contemptuous smile.
“The people, Chris, will do as they’re told—as they always have done throughout history. It is the leaders who count.... First of all I want all shieldings removed, and no more are to be manufactured until I give the word.”
“I’d much prefer that you gave that order instead of me,” Chris said worriedly.
“How on earth can I?” Valina demanded irritably. “I don’t wish to give myself away, or else the law will start chasing me again. You can do it easily enough; you’re in charge of the metal production.”
“Well, partly... Chris perched himself on the end of the settee and rubbed his chin pensively. “I’m only the Chief Executive of the Dodd Line, after all, even if I am handling this engineering project at your request. I’ll have the Government to satisfy, remember, and after having talked them into agreeing to unrestricted manufacture of 96 it isn’t going to be easy to get them to agree to cancel the whole thing. It involves an enormous amount of work. The Deputy Premier, in particular, isn’t too sweet towards you after you murdering his predecessor.”
“I had to murder him because he was a Martian,” Valina retorted. “You know that! And please stop arguing, Chris, and get on with the job. You know me well enough by now, surely, to realize that I only suggest the methods which are best for humanity at large?”
Chris gave her a steady look as she confronted him, her violet eyes fixing him.
“I’m prepared to believe that your scheme is right, Vi— but I’m not going to be th
e one to say so to the masses.” Chris’s voice was quietly resolute. “I’m liable to get torn in pieces for suggesting—without any visible proof that you have given the order—that protection should be removed. It’s too risky! You’ll have to explain things yourself in a world-wide broadcast.”
Valina’s face set in venomous fury for a moment, then as she saw Chris’s obvious surprise she controlled herself.
“Don’t you see that I can’t?” she asked, with an effort at patience. “Not only will the law attack me, but on Mars there are radio receivers which will hear every word I say. I daren’t broadcast the plan, or what is the use of it?”
“Then you’ve only one alternative,” Chris said. “Tell the law why you murdered those famous personalities. They’ll believe you if you make ’em: you can be convincing enough to do that. They daren’t do too much to you: you’re too valuable an asset to the community. Once you have the law on your side tell the people by word of mouth what you intend. The Martians surely haven’t got apparatus for hearing plain speeches with no radio trimmings?”
“No, they haven’t,” Valina agreed, reflecting. “Yes; perhaps diat is the best way.” She nodded her vividly blonde head. “I’ll do that,” she decided. “The moment I have changed and dined I’ll go to the police and explain matters. I’ll let you know then what happens.”
“Okay,” Chris agreed. “And necessary though I suppose this mock defeat scheme of yours is, I still don’t like it one little bit.... Any more than I shall like the job of having to tell Ruth that Howard has been killed.”
“One life lost in order to discover things that will save the lives of millions is a small price,” Valina told him, and he gave her a steady look.
“To you, Vi, I suppose it is—but then you always have held human life pretty cheap, haven’t you?”
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