SIREN SATELLITE
By ARTHUR K. BARNES
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories Winter 1946.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
CHAPTER I
Ill-Starred Voyage
Gerry Carlyle draped her very lovely form over thefunctionally-designed Plastair and nibbled moodily at a long, bronzecurl. She had just discovered how vulnerable she was and, like allimportant public figures who happen to find themselves in such asituation, she was annoyed.
That she was important, no one could deny. Gerry Carlyle was perhapsthe most famous woman on Earth. She was beautiful. She was rich. Andshe was amazingly successful in a profession so rigorous and exactingthat not one man in a thousand would dare face the dangers andhardships and excitement that she faced almost daily.
Queen of the space-rovers, in her mighty ship, The Ark, this slimgirl covered nearly the entire Solar System in her quest for exoticand weird life-forms to be returned alive for the edification andastonishment of the public at the London Interplanetary Zoo. Her namewas a byword, and she was respected and loved throughout the System forher courage, as well as her femininity.
And yet, for all this, Gerry Carlyle was very vulnerable in one regard.Like all champions, she couldn't pass up a dare or a challenge, nomatter what its nature. She had to take on all comers, and she had justrealized that fact.
"The nerve of that fellow!" she muttered, then looked up in annoyanceat her fiancé, Tommy Strike. "You're none too sympathetic, either. Whatare you pacing around for?"
Strike was medium tall, and darkly good-looking in a rugged sort ofway. He grinned tolerantly at her, the grin that always made her heartstumble.
"Just trying out the new flooring," he said.
The pilot room and main corridors of The Ark had just been reflooredwith zincal, the new metal, plastic, air bubble combination which gaveunder the foot like an expensive rug, but which never showed signs ofwear.
Gerry pouted.
"Well, you might show a little interest," she said. "After all, you'resecond in command around here." But Gerry was not the pouting kind, sothe pout was not very successful.
"You've been mumbling to yourself for the past half hour," Tommy Strikepointed out. "How do you expect me to know what it's all about? If youcare to commence at the commencement, in words of one syllable, so mydull wits can grasp whatever it is that has so upset you, perhaps I'lllisten."
Gerry gave her man a smoky, heavy-lidded glance, smiled, and made roomfor him on the Plastair.
"It's this fellow Dacres," she began. "He came around the other daywith a business proposition. Said he wanted to use The Ark to rescuehis brother whose expedition has apparently cracked up on Triton. Heoffered to finance the whole thing, with me furnishing the regularcrew. He would simply be a passenger. Naturally, I turned him down.Gerry Carlyle does not run a taxi service.
"Triton, eh?" Strike grunted. "Neptune's only satellite. And witha very nasty reputation. Isn't that the place that's never beenexplored?"
"That's the place, all right. Two or three expeditions tried it. Noneever returned."
"Oh, yeah. I remember reading about that. They call it the 'sirensatellite.' Very dramatic. And also a very long way from here. Your palDacres must be well off to be able to afford such a jaunt."
Gerry tossed her blond hair.
"He's no pal of mine!" she said, hotly. "Wait till you hear what hedid! He's blackmailing me!"
"Ah?"
"He's gone