The Golden Amazons of Venus Read online

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  THE GOLDEN AMAZONS OF VENUS

  By JOHN MURRAY REYNOLDS

  [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Winter1939. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  [Sidenote: Dakta death, horrible beyond the weirdest fever-dreams ofEarth-men, faced Space Ship Commander Gerry Norton. The laconicinterplanetary explorer knew too much. He stood in the dynamic path ofLansa, Lord of the Scaly Ones, the crafty monster bent on conquering thefair City of Larr and all the rich, shadowless lands of the gloriousAmazons of Venus.]

  The space-ship _Viking_--two hundred feet of gleaming metal and polishedduralite--lay on the launching platform of New York City's municipalairport. Her many portholes gleamed with light. She was still taking onrocket fuel from a tender, but otherwise all the final stores wereaboard. Her helicopters were turning over slowly, one at a time, asthey were tested.

  In the _Viking's_ upper control room Gerry Norton and Steve Brent made afinal check of the instrument panels. Both men wore the blue and golduniform of the Interplanetary Fleet. Fatigue showed on both their faces,on Steve's freckled pan and on Gerry Norton's lean face. Gerry inparticular had not slept for thirty-six hours. His responsibility was aheavy one, as commander of this second attempt to reach the planet Venusfrom Earth. Well--he would have a chance to catch up on sleep during thelong days of travel that lay ahead.

  The two officers finished their inspection, and strolled out onto theopen deck atop the vessel. For a while they leaned on the rail, staringdown at the dense crowds that had thronged the airport to see thedeparture of the _Viking_. In this warm weather the men wore only lightshorts and gayly colored shirts. The women wore the long dresses andmetal caps and thin gauze veils that were so popular that year. Aroundthe fringes of the airport stood the ramparts of New York's many tallbuildings, with the four hundred story bulk of the Federal Building agiant metal finger against the midnight sky.

  "When are we going to pull out, Chief?" Steve Brent asked.

  "As soon as the ship from Mars gets in and Olga Stark can come aboard."

  "Funny thing--I've never been able to like that gal!" Steve said. Gerrysmiled faintly.

  "That puts you in the minority, from all reports. However--that's asidefrom the point. She's the most capable Space-pilot in the whole fleet,and we need her. What's she like personally?"

  "Tall, dark, and beautiful--with a nasty tongue and the temper of afiend," Steve said. He yawned, and changed the subject. "Y'know--I'vejust been wondering what really did happen to the _Stardust_!"

  Gerry shrugged without replying. That was a question that was bound tobe in the minds of all members of this expedition, whether or not theyput it in words. Travel between Earth and Mars had been commonplace formore than a generation now, but there had not yet been any communicationwith Venus--that cloud-veiled planet whose orbit lay nearer the sun thanthat of earth. Two years ago the exploring ship _Stardust_ had startedfor Venus. She had simply vanished into the cold of outer space--andnever been heard from again.

  * * * * *

  Gerry Norton thought the _Viking_ would get through. Science had madesome advances in these past two years. His ship would carry betterrocket fuel than had the _Stardust_, and more efficient gravity plates.The new duralite hull had the strength to withstand a terrific impact.They would probably get through. If not--well--he had been takingchances all his life. You didn't go into the Interplanetary Service atall if you were afraid of danger.

  "There comes the ship from Mars now!" Steve Brent said, suddenlypointing upward.

  A streak of fire like a shooting star had appeared in the sky far above.It was the rocket blast of the incoming space liner. Yellow flamesplayed about her bow as she turned on the reverse rockets to reduce theterrific speed. The roar of the discharge came down through the air likea faint rumble of distant surf. Then the rockets ceased, and the shipbegan to drop down as the helicopters were unfolded to take the weightand lower her easily through the atmosphere.

  "It won't be long now!" Steve said in his low, deep, quiet voice.

  "Aye, not long!" boomed a deep voice behind them, "but I'm thinking itwill be a long day before we return to this braw planet of ours!"

  Angus McTavish, chief engineer of the _Viking_, was a giant of a manwith a voice that could be heard above the roar of rocket motors when hechose to raise it. He had a pair of very bright blue eyes--and aluxuriant red beard. There were probably no more than a dozen full setsof whiskers worn in the earth in this day and age, and McTavish laidclaim to the most imposing.

  "Fuel all aboard, Chief," he said, "The tender's cast off and we'reready to ride whenever you give the word."

  "Just as soon as these people come aboard."

  "Tell me, Mac," Steve Brent interposed, "Now that we're all about tojump off into the unknown--just why _do_ you sport that crop ofwhiskers?"

  "So I won't have to button my collar, ye feckless loon!" the bigengineer replied instantly.

  "The Scots are a queer race."

  "Aye, lad--the salt o' the earth. We remain constant in a changingworld. All the rest of you have forgotten race and breed and tradition,till ye've become as alike as peas in the same pod all over the Earth.We of Scotland take pride in being the exception."

  "And in talking like some wild and kilted highlander of the twentiethcentury! You're out of date, Angus!"

  "If you two are going to argue about that all the way to Venus," Gerrysaid grimly, "I'll toss you both out and let you drift around in spaceforever."

  "Speaking of the Twentieth Century," Steve said, "one of the ancientfolk who lived in that long ago and primitive time would be surprised ifthey could see the New York of today. Why, they made more fuss about oneof their funny old winged air-ships flying the Atlantic than we do abouta voyage to Mars or the Moon."

  The ship from Mars settled gently down on the concrete landing platform,and her helicopters ceased to turn. From a hundred nozzles along theedge of the platform came hissing streams of water, playing upon thehull that had been heated by its swift passage through the outer layersof the Earth's atmosphere. Then, as the hull cooled, the streams ofwater died away and the doors opened. The passengers began to emerge.

  A platoon of police, their steel helmets gleaming in the glow of thelights, cleared a path through the crowd for a small group that hurriedacross to the waiting _Viking_. A few minutes later three newcomers cameaboard. All wore the blue and gold uniform of the Interplanetary Fleet.The two men were Martians, thin and sharp featured, with the reddishskin of their race. The other was an Earth woman. Olga Stark stoodnearly as tall as Gerry Norton's own six feet. She had a pale skin, anda mass of dark hair that was coiled low on her neck.

  "Pilot-Lieutenant Stark and Flight-Ensigns Tanda and Portok reportingaboard, sir," she said quietly.

  "You'll find the officers' quarters aft on B-deck. I'm calling aconference in the chart room as soon as we get clear of thestratosphere."

  * * * * *

  Gerry Norton stood on the little platform at the top of the controlroom, under a curved dome of transparent duralite that gave him a clearview along the whole length of the _Viking's_ super-structure. The lastmember of the expedition was aboard, the airport attendants had allstepped back. The time of departure had come at last!

  "Close all ports!" he snapped.

  "Close ports it is, sir," droned Chester Sand, the Safety Officer.Warning bells rang throughout the ship. Tiny green lights came winkinginto view on one of the many indic
ator panels.

  "All ports closed, sir!" the Safety Officer sang out a minute later. Fora moment Gerry bent over the rail of the platform and himself glanceddown at the solid bank of green lights on the board.

  "Start helicopters!" he ordered.

  There was a low humming. The ship began to vibrate gently. From hisplace in the dome, Gerry could see the _Viking's_ dozen big helicoptersbegin to spin. Faster and faster they moved as Angus McTavish gave hisengines full power. Then the ship rose straight up into the air.

  "Here we go, boys--Venus or bust!" Steve Brent muttered under hisbreath, and a low chuckle swept across the control room.

  The lighted surface of the airport fell swiftly away beneath them. Themyriad lights of New York