Inferno!

by John Russell Fearn, Vargo Statten

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Space Opera

Synopsis

In the year 2150 A.D. immortal Atlanteans living underground on the planet Saturn help a stranded astronaut and his girl friend overthrow the ruthless Earth dictator who tried to kill them.

Release date: September 30, 2015

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 92

Sample

The space machine, one of an original exploration fleet of six vessels, was returning to Earth. At the moment it was only a million miles from the mother world and moving with decreased speed as the rockets in the prow began to blaze fiercely, checking the drag of Earth’s gravity-field already reaching out through the wastes of the void.

Dick Blake was the only man in the vessel. He had been youngish and carefree when he had started on the expedition as a navigator: now he had the hard, tired eyes and lined face of a man who has seen desperate adventure. As indeed he had. He was the only survivor out of fifty men. The rest had died at the hands of queer, electrical beings inhabiting the desolate wastes of Pluto, furthest flung planet of the Solar System. But he, Dick Blake, had got away in time—thanks to the intervention of underground Plutonians, who had proven friendly to him and relentless to the surface dwellers.

One—out of fifty. Dick compressed his lips as he thought on these things, his hands on the machine’s control switches. Far below Earth was, as yet, a mighty green ball circled with its pink atmospheric ring. He had crossed multimillions of miles of space, had returned from way out beyond Neptune—and without doubt the people of Earth would believe him dead since the expedition’s last report had been one of disaster.

He had been away five years, time in which people could forget him. Time in which May Standish, to whom he had been engaged, had probably transferred her affections elsewhere under the belief that he was dead. Indeed, to return to May was Dick’s only thought at the moment. She was the only being who mattered on that mighty globe down there. She even out-weighed the memory of an unforgettable exploration——

Earth was pulling strongly now. Dick came back to the job on hand, checking his instruments, watching the ball change imperceptibly to a landscape. Signposts familiar to the space traveller began to appear. In this year of 2150 the surface of Earth underwent few changes. Cities were more or less stabilised; agricultural areas definitely established. In the centre of the former British Isles, towards which Dick was now heading, there was the one major city of Monopolis, in which was centred all the control of cities and countries ruled by the once British race, now hardly distinguishable as such due to inter-marriage with other races and, in many cases, marriage with men and women of other worlds.

Out in the Atlantic, midway between former Britain and the American continent, loomed Half Way Island, that monstrous mass of sea bed raised by synthetic means to form a deserted tableland a hundred miles wide by two hundred long. Bare rock, lashed by the Atlantic tempests. Hans Druger, a Dutch financier, had created the island in 2016, in the belief he could net a fortune by making it a half-way fuelling point for trans-Atlantic liners. The scheme had collapsed and now the tableland was up for sale for anybody crazy enough to want to buy it.

The Atlantic blurred and the British Isles came into sharp focus on Dick’s telescopic mirror. Down there it seemed to be a bright, sunny morning in May—almost five years to the day since he had left his home planet. With the smile of a wanderer on his stubbly face he shifted the controls and brought the space machine into the outermost layer of atmosphere. Then he switched on the radio equipment.

“Navigator Blake, Plutonian Expedition, calling Earth,” he intoned. “Come in, please. Over.”

There was a brief pause, then power surged through the loudspeaker. The voice of the Earth operator was obviously excited.

“Message received, Navigator Blake. Plutonian Expedition was given up for lost two years ago. Give position. Over.”

“I’m the only survivor,” Dick said grimly. “Give me landing instructions. Over.”

“Beam Nine. Follow through to Field Sixteen. Lanes clear.”

Dick shifted the pointer on the beam-equipment. With it on Beam-9 the electronic patterner showed in a thin, bright line exactly where he was. He kept the machine on that one point, sweeping inwards to Earth as he did so, the far distant air and space port beginning to take shape out of the blur—— Further away in the distance massive freighters and space liners were taking off at regular intervals, whilst in the lower levels normal aircraft were travelling with breath-taking speed across the sunny sky.

Monopolis came closer, its mighty buildings rearing out of the glow of the morning, buildings which reflected a million windows of shatter-proof glass, buildings interlaced with bridges and spans of shimmering metal, buildings which made canyons of the streets and pedestrian ways. Man had climbed far in this year of 2150.

Dick looked down on it all and smiled again. Monopolis, ruled by a Council chosen by the people, at the head of which was Martin Crayfeld, commercial and financial dictator of all countries and cities under Monopolis’ aegis—— He wondered if his friend of college days, Mark Branscombe, had achieved his ambition of becoming architectural consultant to the Council. Five years ago he had thought of nothing else. Mark of the adding-machine brain and unemotional speech——

“Intersection Nine,” instructed the voice of the girl in the Control Station. “Cut off your jets.”

Dick obeyed. His machine turned nose up and began to lower gently, the cabin stayed upright under gyroscopic control. At last he touched down with the gentlest of shivers and the hum of the power plant ceased. He got stiffly from his chair, thankful for the gravity of Earth again, for an end to the wandering through space. He began to collect his various personal belongings, then opened the airlock and stepped outside. To his surprise there were not just a few service mechanics but a whole crowd. Television cameras began to whir, movie trucks started travelling, microphones swung out on booms.

“Welcome back, Mr. Blake!” A smartly dressed individual came from the front of the gathering and gripped Dick’s hand warmly. “On behalf of Monopolis, and particularly Martin Crayfeld, whose first secretary I happen to be, I extend a greeting and congratulations on your safe return from the Plutonian expedition … You are asked to attend a city banquet with Crayfeld himself as your host.”

“Well, thanks very much.” Dick gave a rather uneasy smile. “Nothing would honour me more, of course, though I don’t think I deserve it. I keep thinking of those other forty-nine fellows who died out on Pluto.”

“There will always be deaths among pioneers,” the secretary said, shrugging. “That you have survived is sufficient reason for jubilation. You have reached the outermost world of all—and returned. It is about that, that Martin Crayfeld wishes to question you.”

“Yes.” Dick gave a dry smile. “I rather thought he would.”

He had no chance to say anything more. He was hurried through the crowd to a waiting atomic-car and an armed guard was put round his machine. Then he was whirled into the heart of the mighty city, given a suite in the finest hotel, and generally feted and lionised. By the time the banquet was over, and the Director of the city’s Council had finished questioning him, Dick was wondering what had hit him—— At one o’clock in the early hours he found himself walking slowly along the 20th Pedestrian Way, musing to himself. He was no longer an honoured guest, probably no longer even remembered by the Council and the people. He had been a king for a few hours, a great hero and an intrepid adventurer. Now nobody had any more use for him and he was free to go his own way.

He paused at length at a wayside seat and settled upon it, coat collar up round his ears, hat dragged well down. The air in these early hours was cold. Pensively he surveyed the brilliance of the city with its gigantic edifices, still brightly lighted, climbing into the starry sky. Where in all this immensity was he going to settle? What was he going to do? He had in his pocket a cheque for £1,000, the agreed payment which had been promised to navigators who succeeded in making the trip to Pluto and back. To stay on Earth in some ordinary kind of job was anathema to him: space was in his blood. And yet——

He hesitated over his thoughts. After all, there was May Standish. If she happened to still be around and willing to take up the romance which the Plutonian expedition had interrupted it might be worth staying put on Earth for a while at that.

“Hello, Dick——”

Dick gave a tremendous start as at this point in his meditations the voice of May herself reached his ears. He would have known it anywhere—quiet, refined. He jumped up quickly and gazed fixedly for a moment at the slim, girlish figure in the grey topcoat, a small hat pulled to one side of her blonde head. She was well dressed in the fashion of the time, but not outlandishly so.

“May!” Dick caught her in his arms and kissed her earnestly. She kissed him back, but somehow there was distance in it, as though he were more a relative than a husband-to-be.

“May, how on earth did you find me?” Dick held her at arm’s length. “And at this hour in the morning, too!”

“Oh, it wasn’t very difficult.” The girl submitted to the movement he made which ended in her sitting on the bench. The light high above fell clearly on her. In the five years she had not changed much. She still had the tip-tilted nose, hazel eyes, and full mouth. Only in general build did she seem more developed.

“You mean you followed me?” Dick asked eagerly.

“Yes. I was at the reception——”

“But how could you have been? It was exclusive.”

“Mark Branscombe arranged it for me. It was not difficult for him since he’s a member of the Council.”

Dick looked surprised for a moment, then he gave an admiring shake of his head.

“Good for Mark! So he finally made it. Always wanted to get into the Council—— What is he, exactly?”

“Head of the Architectural Division. He’s come a long way in the past five years.”

“So it seems. Different to the days when you, Mark, and I were all struggling together, eh? Rivals for success? I’ve been stuck away for five years in the backwoods of space, Mark has got himself a highly influential post, and you have—— Just what are you doing now, May?”

“I’m in the Council Secretariat. Not a very highly paid job but I get by.” May was silent for a moment. “Dick, I think you should know something. It was generally thought that the Plutonian expedition had been lost. Five years is an awful long time to be away, and no word. I don’t know quite how to tell you this aft. . .