Captain Future 24 - Pardon My Iron Nerves (November 1950)

by Edmond Hamilton

  “And he’s hired a lawyer who’s demanding his release under the habeas corpus clause of interplanetary law,” put in an official.

  “We’ll have to release him, then,” groaned Halk Anders. “By law, we can’t hold him longer when we have no proof of his guilt.”

  “But we know he’s the Chameleon!” Curt Newton exclaimed.

  “Sure we do, but we’ll have to let him go anyway, and admit to the System that we didn’t catch him after all,” Halk said unhappily.

  Norman Thaine was brought into the Commander’s office, and handed his release. Not by an iota, did he display any exultation.

  “I’m going to charge you all with false arrest,” he declared indignantly.

  THE DOOMED SPACE-LINER

  Curt Newton knew that even as he spoke, the master-thief was laughing to himself behind that indignant mask.

  “Get out of here, before I lose control of myself!” Halk Anders blazed at Thaine. “If there was just one shadow of proof —”

  At that moment, there came an interruption. The captain of the Mars station of the Patrol appeared, in the televisor-screen nearby.

  “Calling GHQ!” he was exclaiming. Then as Halk Anders snapped a switch, the officer continued hastily, “Just picked up SOS from the liner Starmaid! She was running through Sector 16 of the asteroid zone when an uncharted meteor-swarm caught her.”

  “The devil!” groaned Halk Anders. “I told the shipping companies not to start going through Sector 16 again until it had been freshly charted!”

  “The Starmaid was hard hit, sir,” the other reported tautly. “She telaudioed information that the ship was completely crippled, that its passengers and crew were abandoning her in the life-rockets, but that they had only four life-rockets — the rest were smashed. Crowded in like that, they haven’t air enough for more than twenty hours.”

  “Good God!” muttered the Commander, appalled. “They’re doomed, then. We can’t get a relief cruiser from Mars station to that sector in less than ninety hours.”

  “Isn’t there any habitable ‘toid in that sector where they can land?” asked the Martian officer tensely. “I could advise them —”

  “You know there isn’t — nothing but those meteors and a couple of airless asteroids,” groaned Anders. “Not a place in that whole sector with air enough to keep them alive that long —”

  THE SECRET BASE

  He stopped suddenly, as he saw that Captain Future was looking at Norman Thaine, quietly and steadily.

  “You have a secret base in that sector, Chameleon,” Curt was saying. “There’d be air enough there to keep those people alive. They could get to it — if you told us where the base is.”

  “How can I tell you that?” Thaine retorted. “I’m not the Chameleon — 1 don’t know where his base is.”

  “There’ll be women and children in those life-rockets,” Curt went on quietly. “Women and children who will die of suffocation twenty hours from now, unless they reach a place with air.”

  Sweat stood out on Norman Thaine’s forehead. His face took on a gray pallor, and he clenched his fists.

  When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “All right, Captain Future. Tell those life-rockets to make for the asteroid Ferronia. There’s a crater-peak near its northern pole. Down in that crater they’ll find an airlock, and beneath it is my cavern-base. It has oxygen-generators enough to keep them all alive until help comes.”

  When Halk Anders had repeated that information to be relayed by telaudio to the life-rockets, Captain Future looked fixedly, at their prisoner.

  “You realize, of course,” Curt said to Norman Thaine, “that you have just convicted yourself of being the Chameleon?”

  The Chameleon laughed harshly. “Sure, I know. And just when I was free to walk out of here. I’m the prize idiot of all time, eh?”

  PLUTO PRISON FOR LIFE!

  Anders said, movedly, “I wish I could tell you that this would cancel out your record, Chameleon. But it won’t — the courts will have to send you out to Pluto Prison for life in spite of what you did.”

  “Well, I was bound to go there sooner or later,” shrugged the Chameleon.

  Curt told the Commander. “I’ll watch him while you call the guards back to take him, Halk.”

  Looking at Curt a little puzzledly, Halk Anders went out. Left alone, with the prisoner, Curt sat quietly balancing his proton-pistol on his knee. He spoke casually.

  “The little rocket-flier I came here in tonight is up on the landing-deck atop this Tower, Chameleon,” he remarked.

  “What about it? I’m not going anywhere, said the Chameleon half-bitterly.

  “I don’t know,” drawled Captain Future. “A smart, active fellow like you might be able to duck out of this office before I had time to shoot, and make it to the top-deck and get away in that flier.”

  A STRAIGHT SPACE-TRAIL

  The Chameleon became rigid, staring at Captain Future.

  Curt spoke on casually, looking absently at the ceiling. “A fellow as smart as that,” he said, “ought to be smart enough to stop all this business of robbery and blaze a straight space-trail from now on.”

  The Chameleon’s eyes shone. “Thanks. Captain Future,” he whispered.

  “Thanks for what?” Curt repeated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I —”

  He grinned, then. For the Chameleon was already gone, like a shadow. Curt waited a moment, then fired a crashing blast from his gun into a blank wall. He heard a rocket-flier roaring away, overhead.

  Halk Anders and other Patrol officers came running in a moment later. They found Curt Newton the picture of chagrin.

  “He tricked me and got away!” Curt swore. “He was gone before I even fired in his direction!”

  CAPTAIN FUTURE CAN TAKE IT!

  A few minutes later, when the Commander was alone with Curt, he favored Captain Future with an understanding grin.

  “I knew why you sent me out on that fool’s errand, Future. And I’m glad you did. A fellow who did what the Chameleon did tonight deserves to have a few rules broken for him.”

  Curt nodded. “Somehow, I think we’ve heard the last of the Chameleon, Halk. I don’t think he’ll ever bother the Patrol again.”

  Halk Anders pointed out, “You realize this is going to make you look awful foolish? I’ll have to admit that the Chameleon tricked Captain Future to get away.”

  Curt shrugged. “Go ahead and admit it, Halk. I can take it.”

  The Chameleon never resumed depredations again. But he has never been forgotten by the System.

  For he was, as everybody knows, the one outlaw who was smart enough to beat Captain Future!

  The Puzzling Case of the Space Queen

  From the Winter 1943 issue of Captain Future

  An Interplanetary Pirate Impersonates Captain Future in Order to Commit Acts of Robbery on an Incredibly Vast Scale!

  ONE of the most astounding episodes in the career of the Futuremen began with the puzzling case of the Space Queen.

  The Space Queen, a big, fast liner in the outer planet trade, was on its way from Saturn to Earth when it happened. The ship was twelve million miles inside the orbit of Jupiter when its instruments warned that another craft was cutting across its course.

  The other ship soon came into view. And the officers of the liner exclaimed in astonishment as they recognized that small, teardrop-shaped craft.

  That ship was known to every rocketeer in the System.

  “It’s Captain Future’s ship, the Comet! And he’s signaling us to slow down.”

  “Do so at once,” ordered the captain promptly.

  THE RADIUM CASES

  As the liner slackened speed, the smaller ship came almost close enough to touch it. Across the gulf between the two craft came hurtling three figures, only two of whom wore space-suits.

  They entered the Space Queen through its airlock and were greeted by a somewhat anxious captain and officers. The three visitors were a tall red-
haired young Earthman, a lithe, rubbery-looking man, and a huge metal robot. Everyone recognized the famous trio instantly.

  “What’s up, Captain Future?” asked the liner captain worriedly.

  “You have a cargo of radium aboard?” asked the red-haired young Earthman crisply.

  The captain nodded. “Yes, ten million dollars’ worth of the pure element.”

  A THIEVING PLOT

  “There’s a plot afoot to steal it from, you,” the other told him rapidly. “It would involve the wrecking of your ship. I’m going to take that radium aboard the Comet. I’ll deliver it later to Earth.”

  Any other man in the System would have been met by a burst of laughter had he made that suggestion. But confidence in the integrity of the Futuremen was universal and absolute. The captain did not hesitate a moment.

  “Very well, I’ll help you transfer the radium cases. And thanks a lot for stepping in to help us, Captain Future!”

  The small lead cases were soon transferred to the little teardrop ship. With a final flash of its signals, it drove away into the void. Vastly relieved, the captain ordered the Space Queen to proceed to Earth.

  Upon arrival at Earth, the officer reported to his company officials what had happened. They took the same view of it as he had done.

  “We’re lucky the Futuremen took a hand in the thing — otherwise we might have lost radium and ship, too! They’ll probably bring the radium in before long.”

  A NEW METHOD OF PIRACY?

  A few days later, a space-freighter came into Mars with a tale of a similar experience. The Futuremen had halted it in space, and had taken from it a shipment of platinum whose safety Captain Future had declared to be imperiled. In rapid succession half a dozen other ships reported that the Futuremen had taken similar valuable cargoes from them.

  The officials of the shipping companies and the System Government speculated as to what was going on. It was believed that some big plot to rob interplanetary shipping by a cunning new method of piracy had been hatched, and that the Futuremen had intervened to baffle the plotters.

  “They can’t get ahead of Captain Future,” remarked several officials, satisfied. “He got wind somehow of what was being planned, and is acting to prevent it. Look at the valuable cargoes he’s saving.”

  But as days went by, a certain doubt began to arise. The Futuremen were still operating in a puzzling way, out among the planets. Curt Newton and his followers were relieving one ship after another of valuable shipments, but not one of those shipments of precious ores and metals had yet been delivered to their destinations.

  That was brought to the attention of the System President.

  “Oh, it’s all right — Future will bring the stuff in when he has time,” he said.

  “Nobody doubts that, but the delay is embarrassing several companies,” pointed out his secretary. “Won’t you call him about it?”

  The President acceded. He put through a televisor call-signal tuned to the secret wave which few people knew. He was calling the laboratory-home of the Futuremen, on Earth’s Moon.

  A SHOCK FOR CAPTAIN FUTURE

  Captain Future answered. And Curt Newton listened with increasing bewilderment to what the President said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Curt exclaimed. “I never took any shipments off those ships. Grag and Otho and Simon and I have been right here on the Moon for weeks, working out a new invention.”

  “But that’s impossible!” said the President. “Those ship officers all saw and talked with you, when they turned over the shipments to you.”

  In the televisor-screen. Curt’s keen face showed alarm.

  “There’s something wrong. I’m coming to Earth at once.”

  When Curt and the three Futuremen reached the office of the president, the famous planeteer listened closely to the official’s recital.

  Then he asked, “Call in any of those ship officers who are on Earth now.”

  The captain of the Space Queen was one of them.

  “You say you turned over that radium shipment to me?” Curt asked him sharply. “Are you quite sure it was me?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” replied the captain. “You were as close to me as you are now — you and your two pals there.” He pointed toward Grag and Otho.

  “Why, you’re cra —” Grag started to ejaculate, but Curt silenced him.

  He told the captain and other officers, “That’s all I wanted to know. Just a routine acknowledgement for the Government.”

  A CRIMINAL IMPERSONATOR

  Satisfied by that explanation, the ship officers withdrew. Captain Future looked steadily at the President.

  “It’s clear now what is going on,” he declared. “Someone is impersonating me. Someone who is using my name, and the confidence of the System in me, to perpetrate robbery on a vast scale.”

  The President was dumbfounded. “But those ship-officers all swore it was you and your Futuremen they met! They saw Grag and Otho, as well as yourself. And there isn’t another robot in the System like Grag!”

  “I know that, and I can’t understand it,” Curt admitted. “But it’s certain that I’ve got a criminal double, and that he and other pirates are impersonating me and the Futuremen.”

  “Good Lord, he’s still taking millions away from ships and isolated planetary towns by this trick!” exclaimed the President, aghast. He reached for the televisor. “We’ll broadcast warning to the whole System of what’s going on.”

  “No, don’t do that!” Curt intervened quickly. “It would throw all the companies into a panic. They’d storm your office, demanding that their shipments be recovered. The criminals behind this would know that we had already fathomed their plot.

  “Also,” Captain Future added grimly, “it would make things plenty hot for me. A lot of people wouldn’t believe that we Futuremen could have doubles so perfect as to deceive everyone. A lot of people would think that we had actually robbed all those ships of their cargoes.”

  “Holy sun-imps, I never thought of that!” Otho exclaimed. “Say, our reputations are ruined forever unless we catch these doubles of ours!”

  “More than that, our usefulness in the System will be permanently impaired,” Curt warned. “Unless we capture and expose these plotters, there’ll always be a lurking doubt as to our innocence.”

  THE FIRST FAINT CLUE

  Their problem was complicated by the time factor. Already, the shipping companies were murmuring complaints because the Futuremen had not yet delivered the valuable cargoes they had taken. Those murmurs would soon grow into open expressions of doubt.

  Curt Newton attacked the mystery with characteristic concentration. His first quest was to ascertain the identity of the criminal masquerading as himself.

  “Only plastic surgery of the most advanced type could make that criminal into such an exact double of myself,” he pointed out. “But even super-surgery has its limitations. It can’t alter height, weight or certain skull-measurements. Therefore, the criminal selected to be my double would have to coincide with me in those measurements.”

  That gave the first faint clue. They went through the voluminous criminal records of the Planet Patrol, each card of which gave data concerning one of the System’s criminals. They searched the Earthman section.

  The photoelectric scanning-machine, once it was set, went rapidly through the cards and threw out several scores of them which gave the descriptions of criminals who were of Captain Future’s exact height.

  Another scanning of these cards threw out a few dozen criminal descriptions, corresponding to Curt in weight. Continuing this cross-check against other unalterable factors of skull-measurement, the cards were finally narrowed down to one.

  THE FATAL CARD

  “Garis Crain, Earthman, aged 26,” read Captain Future. “Black hair, brown eyes, scar on left cheek. Convicted first for robbery of a Venusian kulga warehouse —” He read off the long list of crimes, ending with “— escaped Syrtis Pr
ison on Mars, June eleventh, two thousand — unapprehended.”

  “Ten to one, this Garis Crain is my double,” Curt said keenly. “Listen to this final notation, dated only a year ago.”

  He read, “ ‘Crain believed to have been leader of pirate band which raided the mining town of Noomat, on southern Saturn, August fourteenth. Pirates were pursued to the Zone, but escaped.’ ”

  “Well, how does all that help us?” Otho demanded skeptically.

  “It proves that Crain has been operating from within the Asteroid Zone,” Curt affirmed. “You know where his base would be there.”

  “Pirates’ Planet, of course,” said the Brain.

  Captain Future nodded. “No doubt of it. That old thieves’ asteroid is still a hangout for the mid-System outlaw bands.” He went on puzzledly, “But who could have made Crain into such an exact double of myself? Remember, it would take super-skill in plastic surgery. There aren’t a hundred surgeons in the System who could use instruments well enough to do that, and who would know how to effect re-coloration of hair and eyes.”

  At once, they brought out the file cards on the surgeons of the System and scanned it.

  “Crain may have kidnapped a surgeon for the purpose,” Curt was saying. “If one is missing —”

  CRIME’S BRAIN TRUST

  They soon discovered that the only surgeon of sufficiently high skill who was presently missing was one Thua Quar of Venusopolis.

  “Listen to this!” Curt read. “Thua Quar disappeared four years ago, after being sought by the Venus section of the police for having used his plastic surgical skill to give a new face to a criminal fugitive. Rumors of the System underworld name Thua Quar as one of the Four.’ ”