Quorne Returns. John Russell Fearn
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needs. You know that basically we are bacteria people, the most indestructible and yet the most adaptable form of life—”
“I know, yes,” Quorne agreed, “but there is much more to the story than that. When one of your race absorbed my image from Earth without my knowledge, he became Captain of the Guard. But later, when I died, I took over his body from him.”
“What!” Dral stared blankly.
“I was killed on Earth when an invasion came from a planet called Zanji,” Quorne continued. “At that time a being named Kron was ruling the destiny of Earth, and it was by him that I was slain. But death does not bring oblivion of the mind. Upon the death of my body, my mind was free, of course. It had only one objective, to assume again a material form as nearly approaching the dead one as possible. Imagine my surprise when I found a body identical—here, on this world! I took it over, blasting out the weak mind of the creature ruling it, and I have used this body ever since. I can hardly believe that I ever died, so completely does this body duplicate the original the one I possessed.”
“You blasted the ‘weak’ mind of the original captain of the guard,” Dral said. “I would not call any of our race weak. We are masters of thought processes, otherwise we could not have duplicated the bodies of the far distant people of Earth.”
“I admit you understand the rudiments of thought processes, and that you are far ahead of natural Earth people in development,” Quorne responded, “but you are not ahead of me. I am more intelligent than you. Jupiter was my first home, my birthplace, and I was once adviser to Abna, himself a towering peak of intellect. So, ranged against Abna, the brilliant Golden Amazon, the adroit Viona—who was married to me when I had my own body on Earth—and myself, you stand little chance of succeeding in the plan of conquest you have devised.”
“But I have no plan of conquest!” Dral protested, and then looked away as the relentless heliotrope eyes pinned him.
“You lie,” Quorne stated flatly. “Long ago I read your mind, and I know exactly what you aim to do. You told the Amazon, Abna, and Viona that you only duplicated yourselves as Earth people so that you could have physical vestment instead of clumsy bacterial bodies. That was a lie. Your real aim is the bloodless conquest of every planet in the System by means of physical transposition. You plan first to conquer Earth by duplicating here among yourselves everybody who exists on Earth—then later you intend to put the counterfeit bodies on Earth and bring the originals here by scientific dissembly processes. The counterfeits would be your own people, obeying your orders, and on Earth nobody would know that the switch had been made.”
Dral was silent, plainly disturbed.
“Altogether,” Quorne commented, “a highly ingenious plan, with no Earthling guessing that his neighbor, or even a member of his family, might be an enemy in disguise.”
“Presumably you have read my thoughts,” Dral said. “That being so, I am glad that you approve. Tell me, though, who were you when on Earth?”
“My name is Sefner Quorne, and before the death of my former body, my ambition was nothing less than the ultimate conquest of the Universe—in which I was always balked by the Golden Amazon and her contemporaries. Now that I again have a body, my ambition remains unaltered, the only difference being that you have greatly simplified matters.”
“We shall operate as we see fit, Quorne,” Dral said.
“I think not.” Quorne smiled acidly. “The greater intelligence always dominates. I am greater than you, therefore you will do as I say. This scheme you have devised for bloodless conquest will be put into effect, certainly, but under my direction. You stand no chance against the Golden Amazon, Abna, Viona, and myself, but if you range yourself on my side, we can probably succeed in mastering the Universe.”
“By replacing Earthlings with counterfeits?”
“Exactly. Afterwards, when enough of your race have patterned themselves after the fashion of Earth people, we will transfer the original Earth people here and switch the counterfeits in their place. That is simple enough by atomic dissembly. The bodies are reduced to their atomic components, transmitted to wherever necessary, and there reassembled. The Amazon herself created that System, and a very brilliant one it is.”
“And if I refuse to work with you, Quorne?”
“You will go down to everlasting defeat. Since I am capable of reading your thoughts, you can never make a move without my knowing it. So, obviously, you had better come to terms.”
Dral was silent, realizing that he was beaten.
“It is also to our benefit,” Quorne continued, “that we have on this counterfeit world the duplicated images of the Amazon, Viona, and Abna. They will be extremely useful to us. The originals must be brought here at a later date and held captive by every known method. Once that is done, conquest will be simple.”
Dral gave a shrug. “Very well, Quorne, since I am powerless to defy you, I have no alternative but to work with you—”
CHAPTER TWO
PLAN IS EXPOSED
The young woman who made her way up the driveway of the huge modern residence in outer London was obviously nervous, behaving very much like a trespasser in forbidden territory. And with good reason. The London home of the Golden Amazon had all the appearance of a scientific house of mysteries, from the strange aerials atop the lofty roof to the many laboratory annexes attached to the house. Even along the driveway there were curious instruments embedded in metal pillars, some of them emanating strange but harmless rays of pink and blue light. Not being a scientist, the young woman could not guess the reason for such apparatus; and she certainly did not realize that her movement up the drive was being reproduced on a screen in the Golden Amazon’s laboratory, and that the sound of her timid footsteps was audible in loudspeakers.
The young woman reached the massive metal front door, but before she had a chance to ring the curiously fashioned bell, the door opened silently and revealed an expanse of tastefully furnished hall illumined with the beams of the March evening sunlight.
“Please go into the lounge on your right,” a voice said from a concealed loudspeaker. “I will be with you in a moment.”
The girl gave an awed glance about her and then resumed her uncertain advance. Entering the huge lounge she surveyed its opulence and magnificent modern appointments—then cold-light globes glowed into being.
The young woman sank into an armchair, gazing at an astonishing clock high in the wall that registered even days, months, and years and made no sound. She was thankful to have got this far without mishap. Her friends had warned her that to try to invade the home of the Golden Amazon was to risk death.
“Good evening.”
The girl jumped out of her chair, suddenly aware of the tall, supple woman who had entered the room. She moved with the grace of a tigress and the poise of an empress, clad in a sweeping blue gown, which, falling from her smooth shoulders, revealed the deep satin gold of her skin and the steel-hard muscles that rolled softly with every movement she made.
“I’m Elsa Vincent, a machine-operator in the city,” the girl said. “I know I have no right to question such a woman as you, Miss Brant, but— You are Miss Brant, of course? The Golden Amazon?”
“Yes.” The Golden Amazon inclined her head and waited.
The young woman sat down again, staring. She had to admit the incredible beauty of the woman facing her. Proud arrogance and high intelligence were moulded into those perfect features and violet eyes. And there was nowhere a line or crease of age, even though it was generally conceded that Violet Ray Brant, the Golden Amazon, must be well over sixty years of age. Here was eternal youth and magical loveliness, crowned with a wealth of rippling golden hair that set off the enormous rubies holding it back from her high, wide forehead.
“You said your name is Elsa Vincent,” the Amazon prompted. “Can I help you in some way?”
“Yes,