Quorne Returns. John Russell Fearn
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stood motionless, concentrating, and neither the Amazon nor Viona disturbed him, chiefly because they were incapable of reaching the heights of mental exaltation that were natural to him. For his own part, his mind objectified every detail that lay outside the prison cell, as clearly as though he was viewing it on a television screen.
“The spaceport lies that way,” he said finally, pointing left. “That’s the direction we have to go when we get out of here.”
“A moment,” the Amazon put in. “Why try and escape into space? Would it not be better to try to get to the dissembly equipment, which we know is above us in the laboratory in this very building, and then transfer ourselves back to Earth before Quorne gets there? Unless, of course, he has also used that method to cover the journey. It would be infinitely quicker, and we could get to grips with him much more swiftly.”
Abna nodded. “Good idea. The spaceport notion we can use as second best. Now, are you ready?”
Viona, and the Amazon closed their eyes and began to concentrate their mind force against the solid metal and stone that hemmed them in. Abna, far more experienced in the art of mind control, kept his eyes open, but the rigidity of his body showed the immense concentrated effort he was making.
Gradually the unrelenting effect of the mind-waves began to make itself evident. The wall on the door side of the cell visibly misted until it was no more than a gossamer veil, its very atoms obeying the superior law battering at it.
“Come,” Abna murmured in a faraway voice, and with the Amazon on one side of him and Viona on the other he stepped forward, entirely fearless, and kept on walking until they were in the midst of the hazy transparency. Here they needed the ultimate of unwavering concentration, for a fraction of a second’s disbelief in their power would have snapped the wall back to normal, crushing them to atomic dust in the process. But no such thing happened. Beyond a faint tingling sensation, the radiant effect of atomic clusters in subjection to mind-force, they passed through the wall safely and found themselves in the dim corridor.
At that they relaxed and the wall reformed, as solid as before. Abna glanced about him but there was nobody in sight.
“So far so good,” he commented. “Be ready for anything. We know our way back to the laboratory anyhow. If robots are about, ignore them and they will probably ignore us, since no minds will be directing them to watch us.”
He started forward, Viona beside him, both of them regretful that they had no physical weapons they could use. They knew their limitations when it came to mental force.
Without mishap they mounted a flight of stairs to the upper corridor and then paused. Three men were approaching, looking exactly like Earthmen, and were obviously coming from the laboratory.
“One of them is Dral,” Abna murmured to the Amazon. “You remember? We talked with him on the last occasion we were here? He’s the ruler of the planet. From what I can read of his mind, he has just been into the laboratory to see Quorne off on his journey to Earth.”
The advancing Dral and his two advisers stopped, utterly bewildered at the sight of the trio, then their hands flew to their guns. But in that instant they were overpowered.
The Amazon singled out Dral for herself, whirled him around, then delivered a blow that knocked him spinning backwards towards the corridor’s huge window, outside which blazed the glare of the artificial sun. Dral gasped and choked, trying to recover himself, but before he could do so the Amazon was upon him again, her yellow fingers tight about his neck. To her surprise, however, she found her strength was unequal to the task of squeezing the life out of the ruler: in fact, she herself was gradually being overpowered as his hands clutched her throat and tightened relentlessly.
Encumbered as she was by her sweeping gown, she took the only chance she could and wrenched herself free, narrowly missing the savage jet of a flame gun which one of the other men fired at her. Neither Abna nor Viona had overpowered their own adversaries, either, and were glancing about them for a means of escape.
The Amazon hesitated no longer. Since the men seemed too tough to be smashed down by ordinary methods, the only thing to do was get them out of the way for a while. So she twisted backwards quickly, seized Dral by the collar and belt of his jacket, then whirled him over her head and through the big window. With a tinkling of glass he sailed outside, dropping down forty feet to the street below. In a matter of seconds Viona and Abna had dealt likewise with the other two men, dodging the ray-gun beams that stabbed at them.
They sped down the corridor and into the laboratory. The place was deserted and the equipment switched off. Presumably Quorne had transmitted himself to Earth and the technicians had departed. Quickly the Amazon hurried to the dissembler and studied its panels, then she nodded in satisfaction.
“Practically a duplicate of my own invention,” she said. “And the settings are registering Earth—for Quorne, I suppose—so we’ll have no troubles in that direction. Quickly, one of you, switch on the power.”
Viona obeyed, or attempted to, but before she could grip the master-switch a robot glided unexpectedly from its concealed recess and seized her arm with its pincer hand. Instantly she tried to use the other hand, but this, too, was prevented.
Abna glanced around and saw what was happening. Immediately he hurtled for the monstrosity of metal, and by sheer strength tore open the pincers holding Viona’s arms. But by the time he had done this, other robots came gliding into view, evidently directed by post-hypnotic orders to protect the laboratory against all intruders.
“Get away from them!” the Amazon cried, and they all raced through the laboratory door into the corridor. They kept going until the corridor took a sharp right turn to the main street outside. In the doorway were guards, one on each side, guns at the ready. As the trio came hurtling towards them they swung, ready for action.
“Risk knocking them over,” Abna said. “Quorne likely left orders for us to be left unharmed, so we’ll hope they won’t fire.”
His guess was correct, and by the time the guards had been reached, their hands were wavering uncertainly about their guns—and that was as far as they got. Knuckles smashed into their faces and sent them reeling down the steps to the street. Passers-by, exactly akin to Earthlings, paused in amazement and helped the guards to rise.
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