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The Golden Amazons of Venus Page 2
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were spread out like a jeweled carpet in thenight, dwindling and seeming to slide together as the drive of the_Viking's_ powerful motors carried her steadily upward. At the threethousand-foot level they passed a traffic balloon with its circle ofblue lights, and the signal blinker spelled out a hasty "Good Luck!"
* * * * *
At the thirty thousand-foot level they passed an inbound Oriental &Western liner, bringing the night mail from China. She hung motionlesson her helicopters to let the _Viking_ pass, her siren giving a saluteof three long blasts while her passengers crowded the decks to cheer thespace-ship. After another ten thousand feet they were above ordinarytraffic lanes. The glass windows of the control room were beginning toshow a film of condensing moisture, and Steve Brent brought the heavyduralite panes up into place.
"Stand by rocket motors!" Gerry commanded. "Stand by to foldhelicopters. Ready? _Contact!_"
There was a muffled roar. The _Viking's_ nose tilted sharply upward.Momentarily the space-ship trembled like a living thing. Then she shotahead, while the helicopters dropped down into recesses within the hulland duralite covers slid into place over them. Gerry climbed down fromthe dome into the main control room. Momentarily he glanced at the hugebrass and steel speed indicators.
"Twelve hundred miles an hour," he said. "Fast enough for this densityof atmosphere. Hold her there. Summon heads of departments and all deckofficers to the chart room."
The call was quickly answered.
The assembled officers stood leaning against the walls, or perched onthe chart-lockers. Now that the trip had actually begun, uniform coatswere unbuttoned and caps laid aside. Angus McTavish had a battered brierpipe clenched in his teeth. The stem was so short that the swirlingsmoke seemed to filter upward through his whiskers.
"Better be careful, Mac," said Portok the Martian. "Maybe the airfilters won't be able to handle that smoke of yours."
"Never mind the air filters, sonny!" grunted the big Scot withimperturbable good humor. "They'll handle the smoke of good 'baccybetter than the fumes of that filthy _grricqua_ weed you smoke on Mars."
A radio loud-speaker had been left on, and they heard the voice of anannouncer on some European station:
"We now bring you a brief sports resume. In Canton, China, the ShantungDragons played a double header with the Budapest Magyars. The score ofthe first game was...."
"Wonder if they ever heard of baseball on Venus!" Steve Brent chuckled.
"Maybe they'll learn as fast as we of Mars," said Portok. "I seem toremember that in the last Interplanetary Championship Series we...."
"Skip it!" Steve growled. "I lost a week's salary on that series."
McTavish and Portok grinned.
Gerry Norton watched them with a smile on his lean, dark face. They werea good crowd! The _Viking_ was going on the most dangerous journeymankind had ever attempted, a journey from which no one had ever beforereturned alive, but he could not have asked for a better group ofsubordinates. They were people of his own choosing, and all but two wereold shipmates. Though he had never sailed with Chester Sand, the SafetyOfficer had been highly recommended. Neither had he ever sailed withOlga Stark before, but he knew her by reputation as an excellentnavigator and when she applied to go he felt he should accept her.
* * * * *
For half an hour Gerry held them together, while he set the watches andchecked assignments and outlined other routine details. Then the meetingended, and only Steve Brent remained with him. They walked forward intothe darkened control room, where the only light was the dim glow fromthe indicator boards. The Quartermaster on watch stood motionless besidethe steering levers.
Gerry noticed that he had a tendency to rise a couple of inches off thefloor with each step. The pull of Earth was already lessening! He threwthe switch that controlled the attraction-gear, and heard a faint hissof shifting gravity plates beneath their feet. The feeling andimpression of normal weight returned.
For a moment Gerry and Steve stood looking out one of the big duralitewindows of the control room. At this level the legions of stars gleamedwith an unreal brilliance in the dead black of the heavens. The Earthwas a vast globe behind them, glowing for a quarter of its surface withthe familiar outlines of the continents still visible. With thelessening pull, the _Viking_ had increased speed to five thousand, butshe seemed to be standing still in comparison with the vastness ofspace.
"Funny thing, Chief," Steve Brent said meditatively, "Olga Stark andChester Sand are not supposed to have met before they came aboard thisship--but I saw them whispering together in that dark corner offCorridor 6 as I came forward."
"Maybe she's just a fast worker," Gerry said. For a moment the incidentirritated him, but then he shrugged and forgot it. On a purelyscientific and exploratory expedition of this kind, there was nopossible motive for any underhand work.
* * * * *
The days passed in slow progression. The _Viking_ had attained hermaximum speed of fifty thousand miles an hour as the ceaseless drive ofher great rocket motors forced her ahead, a speed possible in the voidof outer space where there was no air to create friction. For all hergreat speed by Earthly standards, she was but crawling slowly across thevastness of Interplanetary space.
Life on board had settled down to a smooth routine. Now and then alarmbells would suddenly ring a warning of the approach of a smallplanetesimal or some other vagrant wanderer of outer space, and the shipwould change course to avoid a collision. Otherwise there was littleexcitement. Astern, the familiar Earth had dwindled to a shiningdisc--like the button on an airman's uniform. Ahead, the cloud-veiledplanet of Venus drew steadily nearer.
Passing along one of B-deck corridors one day, Gerry met Olga Starkcoming out of the recreation rooms. She was off duty at the moment, andinstead of her uniform she wore a long gown of green silk. Her dark hairwas surmounted by a polished metal cap, and a thin gauze veil hung toher chin. Gerry stopped her with a gesture.
"Very decorative, Lieutenant," he said with a twitch of his lips, "butthis is supposed to be a scientific expedition. I must ask that you wearyour uniform outside of your cabin."
"I am off duty!" she retorted, her dark eyes suddenly angry and sullen.
"It's true that you're not on watch at this moment, but everybody is onduty twenty-four hours a day till this expedition is over. Resume youruniform."
"And if I refuse?" she asked.
"You'll go into double irons. When I'm commanding a ship, I do justthat!"
For a moment their glances met, the woman's hot and angry, the man'scold and unyielding. Then, without another word, she swept away to hercabin. Gerry Norton sighed, and went on his way. He had never becomeentirely reconciled to the presence of women in the InterplanetaryFleet. They made good officers most of the time, but occasionally theyhad fits of feminine temperament.
* * * * *
At last there came the day when the yellowish, cloud-veiled mass ofVenus filled half the sky ahead. Watches were doubled up. Rocket motorswere cut down as the attraction of the planet pulled them onward. Thenthe forward rocket-tubes began to let go for the braking effect, and theflame of the discharges filled the control room with a flickering yellowlight.
As they entered the outer atmosphere layers of Venus, the effect of airon the sun's rays gave them natural sunlight and blue skies again forthe first time in over six weeks. Something about the effect of yellowsunlight slanting in the portholes raised the spirits of all of them,and men were whistling as they went about their work. Gerry brought theship to a halt a few thousand feet above the endless, tumbled mass ofclouds that eternally covered all of Venus. They were now near enough tobe fully caught in the rotation of the planet's stratosphere, so thatthey had normal night and day instead of the eternal midnight that hadgripped them for weeks.
Early the next morning, with all hands on duty, the _Viking's_helicopters began to drop her down into the cloud-mas
s. The cottonybillows swept up to meet them--and then they were submerged in a denseand yellowish fog. Moisture gathered thickly on the windows of thecontrol room.
"This reminds me of a good London fog!" said Angus McTavish, who hadcome up from his engine rooms for a few minutes. "I wonder if they haveany good pubs down there!"
The soupy, saffron-colored fog enshrouded the _Viking_ as she droppedlower and lower. Gerry Norton checked the altitude personally, watchingthe slowly moving hand of the indicator. Twice he held her motionlesswhile he sent echo-soundings down to make sure they were not too closeto land. Then they went a little lower--and suddenly came clear of thecloud mass. They were sinking slowly downward through a peculiarlymurky, golden light that was the normal day-time condition on the planetof Venus. They had
* * * * *
At the thirty thousand-foot level they passed an inbound Oriental &Western liner, bringing the night mail from China. She hung motionlesson her helicopters to let the _Viking_ pass, her siren giving a saluteof three long blasts while her passengers crowded the decks to cheer thespace-ship. After another ten thousand feet they were above ordinarytraffic lanes. The glass windows of the control room were beginning toshow a film of condensing moisture, and Steve Brent brought the heavyduralite panes up into place.
"Stand by rocket motors!" Gerry commanded. "Stand by to foldhelicopters. Ready? _Contact!_"
There was a muffled roar. The _Viking's_ nose tilted sharply upward.Momentarily the space-ship trembled like a living thing. Then she shotahead, while the helicopters dropped down into recesses within the hulland duralite covers slid into place over them. Gerry climbed down fromthe dome into the main control room. Momentarily he glanced at the hugebrass and steel speed indicators.
"Twelve hundred miles an hour," he said. "Fast enough for this densityof atmosphere. Hold her there. Summon heads of departments and all deckofficers to the chart room."
The call was quickly answered.
The assembled officers stood leaning against the walls, or perched onthe chart-lockers. Now that the trip had actually begun, uniform coatswere unbuttoned and caps laid aside. Angus McTavish had a battered brierpipe clenched in his teeth. The stem was so short that the swirlingsmoke seemed to filter upward through his whiskers.
"Better be careful, Mac," said Portok the Martian. "Maybe the airfilters won't be able to handle that smoke of yours."
"Never mind the air filters, sonny!" grunted the big Scot withimperturbable good humor. "They'll handle the smoke of good 'baccybetter than the fumes of that filthy _grricqua_ weed you smoke on Mars."
A radio loud-speaker had been left on, and they heard the voice of anannouncer on some European station:
"We now bring you a brief sports resume. In Canton, China, the ShantungDragons played a double header with the Budapest Magyars. The score ofthe first game was...."
"Wonder if they ever heard of baseball on Venus!" Steve Brent chuckled.
"Maybe they'll learn as fast as we of Mars," said Portok. "I seem toremember that in the last Interplanetary Championship Series we...."
"Skip it!" Steve growled. "I lost a week's salary on that series."
McTavish and Portok grinned.
Gerry Norton watched them with a smile on his lean, dark face. They werea good crowd! The _Viking_ was going on the most dangerous journeymankind had ever attempted, a journey from which no one had ever beforereturned alive, but he could not have asked for a better group ofsubordinates. They were people of his own choosing, and all but two wereold shipmates. Though he had never sailed with Chester Sand, the SafetyOfficer had been highly recommended. Neither had he ever sailed withOlga Stark before, but he knew her by reputation as an excellentnavigator and when she applied to go he felt he should accept her.
* * * * *
For half an hour Gerry held them together, while he set the watches andchecked assignments and outlined other routine details. Then the meetingended, and only Steve Brent remained with him. They walked forward intothe darkened control room, where the only light was the dim glow fromthe indicator boards. The Quartermaster on watch stood motionless besidethe steering levers.
Gerry noticed that he had a tendency to rise a couple of inches off thefloor with each step. The pull of Earth was already lessening! He threwthe switch that controlled the attraction-gear, and heard a faint hissof shifting gravity plates beneath their feet. The feeling andimpression of normal weight returned.
For a moment Gerry and Steve stood looking out one of the big duralitewindows of the control room. At this level the legions of stars gleamedwith an unreal brilliance in the dead black of the heavens. The Earthwas a vast globe behind them, glowing for a quarter of its surface withthe familiar outlines of the continents still visible. With thelessening pull, the _Viking_ had increased speed to five thousand, butshe seemed to be standing still in comparison with the vastness ofspace.
"Funny thing, Chief," Steve Brent said meditatively, "Olga Stark andChester Sand are not supposed to have met before they came aboard thisship--but I saw them whispering together in that dark corner offCorridor 6 as I came forward."
"Maybe she's just a fast worker," Gerry said. For a moment the incidentirritated him, but then he shrugged and forgot it. On a purelyscientific and exploratory expedition of this kind, there was nopossible motive for any underhand work.
* * * * *
The days passed in slow progression. The _Viking_ had attained hermaximum speed of fifty thousand miles an hour as the ceaseless drive ofher great rocket motors forced her ahead, a speed possible in the voidof outer space where there was no air to create friction. For all hergreat speed by Earthly standards, she was but crawling slowly across thevastness of Interplanetary space.
Life on board had settled down to a smooth routine. Now and then alarmbells would suddenly ring a warning of the approach of a smallplanetesimal or some other vagrant wanderer of outer space, and the shipwould change course to avoid a collision. Otherwise there was littleexcitement. Astern, the familiar Earth had dwindled to a shiningdisc--like the button on an airman's uniform. Ahead, the cloud-veiledplanet of Venus drew steadily nearer.
Passing along one of B-deck corridors one day, Gerry met Olga Starkcoming out of the recreation rooms. She was off duty at the moment, andinstead of her uniform she wore a long gown of green silk. Her dark hairwas surmounted by a polished metal cap, and a thin gauze veil hung toher chin. Gerry stopped her with a gesture.
"Very decorative, Lieutenant," he said with a twitch of his lips, "butthis is supposed to be a scientific expedition. I must ask that you wearyour uniform outside of your cabin."
"I am off duty!" she retorted, her dark eyes suddenly angry and sullen.
"It's true that you're not on watch at this moment, but everybody is onduty twenty-four hours a day till this expedition is over. Resume youruniform."
"And if I refuse?" she asked.
"You'll go into double irons. When I'm commanding a ship, I do justthat!"
For a moment their glances met, the woman's hot and angry, the man'scold and unyielding. Then, without another word, she swept away to hercabin. Gerry Norton sighed, and went on his way. He had never becomeentirely reconciled to the presence of women in the InterplanetaryFleet. They made good officers most of the time, but occasionally theyhad fits of feminine temperament.
* * * * *
At last there came the day when the yellowish, cloud-veiled mass ofVenus filled half the sky ahead. Watches were doubled up. Rocket motorswere cut down as the attraction of the planet pulled them onward. Thenthe forward rocket-tubes began to let go for the braking effect, and theflame of the discharges filled the control room with a flickering yellowlight.
As they entered the outer atmosphere layers of Venus, the effect of airon the sun's rays gave them natural sunlight and blue skies again forthe first time in over six weeks. Something about the effect of yellowsunlight slanting in the portholes raised the spirits of all of them,and men were whistling as they went about their work. Gerry brought theship to a halt a few thousand feet above the endless, tumbled mass ofclouds that eternally covered all of Venus. They were now near enough tobe fully caught in the rotation of the planet's stratosphere, so thatthey had normal night and day instead of the eternal midnight that hadgripped them for weeks.
Early the next morning, with all hands on duty, the _Viking's_helicopters began to drop her down into the cloud-mas
s. The cottonybillows swept up to meet them--and then they were submerged in a denseand yellowish fog. Moisture gathered thickly on the windows of thecontrol room.
"This reminds me of a good London fog!" said Angus McTavish, who hadcome up from his engine rooms for a few minutes. "I wonder if they haveany good pubs down there!"
The soupy, saffron-colored fog enshrouded the _Viking_ as she droppedlower and lower. Gerry Norton checked the altitude personally, watchingthe slowly moving hand of the indicator. Twice he held her motionlesswhile he sent echo-soundings down to make sure they were not too closeto land. Then they went a little lower--and suddenly came clear of thecloud mass. They were sinking slowly downward through a peculiarlymurky, golden light that was the normal day-time condition on the planetof Venus. They had