Triangle of Power. John Russell Fearn
Quorne? That doesn’t mean that all the machines are not still useful, does it? Jove—the mighty city which dwelt under the dome, and of which you were king—could be revived, Abna. It would be a tremendous addition to the forces of science with which we intend in time to ring the Solar System.”
“Yes, it’s a good suggestion,” he agreed, “but doesn’t it turn our honeymoon into a working tour? I thought we were going to abandon all our scientific notions for awhile and behave like a natural man and woman?”
“We are not natural,” the Amazon said. “You and I are akin to god and goddess, Abna. Giant and giantess, in strength and knowledge. We can never be ordinary people.”
“Do you regret it?” he asked, his hand returning to her slender shoulder; and she shook her blonde head.
“Not now. I did once. I used to think I would like to be on a par with Ethel, my foster-niece; or Bee, my foster-sister. Just a woman, with perhaps children of my own. Then I realized how different life can be when there is all the universe before one—when there are still unexplored worlds to conquer and rule. I had a plan once—the conquest of the whole solar system and its control by Earth with me at the head. I still have that dream.”
“With me to help you now?”
“Of course.”
For a moment Abna met the girl’s wide violet eyes. They were darkly unfathomable as usual, masked by their big curling lashes. Her beauty fascinated him. But her manner he could not understand. It was as though the ceremony in the Abbey had counted for nothing. She was still the quiet, coldly calculating woman with whom he had fought a battle of wits before chance had put all the aces in his hand and, rather than be beaten, she had agreed to marry him.
“We’ve a long way to go before we’re anywhere near Jupiter,” she said at length. “Might as well have a meal and then relax. You fix it up while I make sure our course is correct.”
Abna nodded and left the control room, heading for the big storage compartment where the essences and restoratives were kept. The Amazon watched him go and a thin, cold smile curved her lips. She continued with her course-checking until Abna announced that the meal was ready. With a nod she rose and went to the dining area. Her walk was steady, and the fixtures remained in place. Though the Ultra was hurtling at terrific velocity through free space, the gravity-nullifiers in the floor kept the weight down to earth-normal.
“I don’t quite understand your attitude, Vi,” Abna said, as he handed over the compressed food concentrates.
“No? You have the chance to read my thoughts, even as I can read your thoughts. There shouldn’t be any mystery between us.”
“Shouldn’t be, but there is. As for your thoughts, they are completely sealed. You’ve learned the art of masking them.”
The Amazon smiled inscrutably. “Sometimes it’s necessary, Abna. Marriage does not mean being bought body and soul: there are some things I like to keep to myself. Don’t forget there are quite a few scientific secrets I have which you have not—and vice versa.”
“But surely the very purpose of our marriage was to pool those ideas?”
“Later, perhaps....” And the Amazon withdrew into her own mysterious personality and said no more.
Abna was a man in every sense of the word: the woman he had wed was a woman in form only. In all the time he had known her, though he fancied he had analyzed her nature and thoughts completely, he had failed—as all men had—in penetrating the armour with which she had surrounded herself. The Golden Amazon’s body and mind were infinities apart.
“Do you suppose,” Abna asked, “that Earth will be safe while we’re away?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?” The Amazon finished her meal and sat back to regard him.
“I’m thinking of Sefner Quorne. You remember he sent you a letter saying he’d do all manner of things. If he does act, we’ll be up against it, Vi. His science is far ahead of yours and mine combined. And don’t forget you can’t trace him, either. Now he has altered his bodily energy content, you can’t put an aura-compass on him.”
The Amazon frowned in annoyance. The aura-compass, that infallible instrument of her own design, had the power of pointing to any given person if the aura—the electrical energy—of that person were known. Until Quorne had come into the scene the aura of every living thing had been changeless: he, however, had accomplished the miracle of altering his energy, and, the new aura number being unknown, he was virtually undetectable. It was not a happy thought for the Amazon. Sefner Quorne might be anywhere, waiting to implement his threat.
“All I can say is, Earthlings must take care of themselves for a change, Abna.”
She became silent again, as though waiting for something. Abna rubbed a hand drowsily over his forehead.
“I feel uncommonly tired,” he said, puzzled. “A thing I’ve never experienced before. Sure the air’s all right in here?”
“Far as I know.”
He got up unsteadily, rubbed his forehead again, then went to the air-conditioning apparatus. The gauges showed it was functioning perfectly. He looked at the Amazon again. She seemed undisturbed.
“Not affecting you,” he said, frowning.
“No reason why it should, Abna. I intended it exclusively for you.”
“Intended—what?”
“The gas in the store cupboard. Didn’t you notice it when you went to get the food?”
“That tart smell? I thought it was some kind of preserving chemical you’d put in— You mean it—”
“I mean it was lethal gas, released by the action of opening the door. That was why I told you to get the meal. Maybe ‘lethal’ is hardly the term for a man of your constitution, Abna. It won’t kill you, as it would an ordinary man, but it will numb your body and certain areas of your brain. Chiefly those areas connected with the will.”
Abna moved ponderously and sat down with a thump on the wall couch.
“What—what have you done?” he whispered. “You marry me and then kill me.”
“I haven’t done either.” The Amazon rose, tall, majestic, in her black uniform. Her violet eyes were wide and gleaming. “All I have done, Abna, is paralyze every faculty by which you can shield your thoughts from me. Shortly you will be unable to move, but your thoughts will be bare for me to read. Every secret you have ever had will be there for me to take—and your will power being deadened, you will not be able to protect yourself.”
“A she-devil,” Abna muttered, staring at her. “That’s what I have always suspected. Wait a minute! Did you say you didn’t marry me?”
“That’s right. We’re not married. We never shall be.”
“But, the ceremony. The archbishop—!”
“The ceremony was illegal. As for the archbishop, he was a synthetic image of himself, controlled entirely by my will.”
“I don’t—believe it.” Abna got the words out with difficulty.
“No?” The Amazon turned to the switchboard and snapped on the short-wave radio that still gave contact with Earth. After a few moments of sorting out the stations, she tuned in to the midst of a news bulletin.
“...was the marriage of Miss Violet Ray Brant to Abna of Jupiter. It is tragic that the aftermath of the ceremony should be marred by the sudden collapse and death of Dr. Cranton, the Archbishop of Canterbury, but—”
“Satisfied?” the Amazon asked, switching off. “As we passed out into space here, beyond range, my will power over him naturally weakened, until finally it lost its efficiency altogether and the synthetic archbishop just collapsed and became clay. The deception will