Читать книгу Daughter of the Amazon: The Golden Amazon Saga, Book Five - John Russell Fearn - Страница 8

CHAPTER THREE

EVEN THE AMAZON IS BAFFLED

After Chris had departed, the Amazon spent two hours sleep­ing and then, refreshed, she went calmly about the task of prepar­ing for her gigantic journey. She made her arrangements with the methodical precision of the true scientist. First she drew on a spacesuit, complete to the helmet—since she would resolve in the void itself at the end of her journey—and to it she fastened all the instru­ments she was likely to need. They included a brain-vibration telewriter, which, responding to her thoughts, would write down whatever notes she wished to make.

This done, she set the dissembling equipment beam to the required distance as given on the computer, and then she threw in the time switch and stepped onto the transmission plate. Presently the moment of dissolution came and, though she was steeled to it from previous experience, it was again an exquisite anguish as every atom of her being was broken down into its energy equivalent—in­cluding the spacesuit—and hurled through hyperspace at an incredible velocity.

During the transition the Amazon herself was as completely lost to consciousness as one under powerful anaes­thetic. The sense of returning life brought her to opening her eyes and she looked through the transparent visor of her helmet. She was suspended in empty space, just as she had calculated, so far from the nearest appreciable gravity field that she could not drift towards it. She was utterly motionless and would remain so until the apparatus on faraway Earth re­versed its action and snatched her back whence she had come.

She turned her head slowly. There, no more than a few billion miles away, was the awesome barrier of the Dark. At such relatively close quarters it was terrifying, seeming to be sweeping inward like a titanic shadow and blotting out nebulae and stardust in its advance. The more she looked at it, the more the Amazon realized she might even be enveloped within it if the apparatus did not react exactly to the second she had calculated.

She pressed the button on her breastplate, which actuated the various instruments strapped to the outside of her suit. Each one in its respective way registered some particular aspect of the mystery, then via her telewriter she gave her own mental reactions to the Dark. And it came nearer, and nearer still. She watched distant stars winking out of existence before the advanc­ing tide, as a lamp might vanish before clouds of smoke.

As she waited, the Amazon was filled for a moment with the consciousness of her own utter insignificance—and audacity. By her own skill she had projected herself to this point in space to gaze upon a mighty cosmic change corn­ing over the face of things, and at the speed it was moving she might pay for it with her life. Still she waited, in ever-growing alarm, and saw the wall of night pouring down on her in a relentless tide. To judge its distance was impossible, as impossible as trying to measure the thickness of a huge shadow.

Then came that moment of unendurable tension and everything snapped out of existence. The next thing she knew the Amazon was struggling to her feet under the apparatus in her laboratory, her spacesuit still about her. Breathing hard, she dragged it off and stepped clear of the transmission plate.

Restorative tablets revived her sufficiently for her to continue working, and for the next two hours she was busy with the instruments on which, stop­watch fashion, she had taken her read­ings. Three hours later, she had come to an end of her calculations.

She called Chris Wilson—this time at the Space executive building, and he came quickly. Her first words shocked him.

“I’m beaten, Chris. Completely! This isn’t just darkness. It’s a complete flaw in the mathematical makeup of the Universe. The entire Universe is one flawless equation, perfectly balanced. Mathematics have vibrations, and if a vibration came from somewhere which upset the balance by a fraction, the entire Universe would change. That, I think, is what has happened. And the effect is seen in the cancellation of space-time as a known factor. I am not a super-­mathematician, Chris, though I am a scientist. I cannot hope to grapple with a thing like this.”

“There’s one who can,” Chris said. “Tarnec Brodix, or whatever you call him. You told me he was the greatest mind you had ever encountered.”

The Amazon gave a wan smile. “You know, Chris, I have been so intent on trying to work this thing out, I’d forgotten all about him.”

“What puzzles me is, how do you contact Brodix? He’s in a Universe outside our own, isn’t he? Inhabiting a planet made up entirely of mathematical postulations?”

“True, but he is sensitive to thought-waves. He came to my aid before when I concentrated—my thoughts winging the gulf to him at almost instantaneous speed—so there is no reason why he should not do so again.”

“Instantaneous speed?” Chris puzzled, as the Amazon settled herself in a chair to begin concentrating.

“Certainly. Thought, Chris, is the swiftest messenger in the universe and untrammelled by physical laws.”

With that the Amazon closed her eyes and concentrated. But seconds crept into minutes and nothing happened. The Amazon opened her eyes and sat motionless, waiting for some sign of that pale mist that would announce the arrival of the queer gnome-like being whose knowledge was beyond all human ken. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Then half an hour had gone.

The Amazon sat frowning. Then she said: “I have it!” She got to her feet. “The Dark is between Brodix and me, and that Dark will not carry any radiation, not even thought-waves. I’m utterly cut off from him.”

“Then…what happens?”

The Amazon did not answer, but when she presently raised her eyes again and found Chris looking at, her she felt as though somehow he could read her thoughts. The fact seemed con­firmed when he said simply,

“Abna.”

“Yes, Abna might be able to overcome the trouble. He understands many things that I do not—and vice-versa. But that is no answer to the problem because only Brodix can ever bring Abna back.”

“Without Brodix you’re utterly lost, then?”

The Amazon did not admit the fact openly, but her expression was sufficient.

“I never thought it would one day come to this,” Chris muttered. “That the Golden Amazon should find herself with a problem she couldn’t solve, and be cut off from those who might help her. The people, when they eventually hear of it, will lose a lot of confidence in you, Vi.”

“I can’t help it, can I?” the Amazon demanded angrily, her violet eyes glow­ing. “I have far-reaching knowledge, and know it—but there are limits, and I’ve reached them. I—”

She paused and snatched up the visi-phone as it buzzed.

“Yes? Miss Brant speaking.… Mr. Wilson? Yes, he’s here.”

Chris took the instrument. “This is Wilson,” he said, and listened attentively. The Amazon took little heed of him, lost in her own thoughts, until some­thing in the tone of his voice made her glance up.

“And it has no insignia at all? From the direction of the outer planets? Yes, allow it to land in the usual way and have the spaceport controller make full inquiry.”

Chris switched off and said: “A fairly large space machine has been reported heading for Earth. It does not belong to any of the known space lines. No contact has been attempted with it so far.”

“From the direction of the outer plan­ets, didn’t you say?”

“Yes.”

The Amazon motioned Chris to follow her. They went into the observatory and by the actuation of various switches the girl closed the roof except the trap through which the telescope projected. In consequence the ob­servatory itself was thrown into total darkness. After a moment a glimmer of light came into being. The Amazon moved another switch and a screen glided into position where the scanning chair usually stood.

There was a click. Despite the daylight outside the light-wave trap in the instrument functioned perfectly and upon the screen appeared a vision of space. It changed rapidly as the Amazon spun wheels or played her fingers up and down a series of numbered keys.

Chris exclaimed abruptly, “There it is!”

The Amazon was already aware of the fact. She studied the screen intent­ly. Clearly visible was a space machine totally unlike any used on the normal routes.

“That vessel is similar to the ones Abna used to have on Jupiter,” she said. “For all I know, they might still be on Jove since it was partly resurrected.”

The Amazon began moving swiftly. She switched off the instrument, restored the daylight, and then hurried into the house with Chris behind her.

“Where now?” he inquired, as the Amazon fled toward her bedroom.

“I’m going to the spaceport to meet that ship when it comes in. You can take me down in your car.”