Quorn had been responsible also for the “Eel Man,” a Venusian whose skeleton structure had been cunningly dissolved, then replaced by a reticulation of elastic rods. As a result the Eel Man could compress his body to unbelievable slimness, and literally tie himself into knots. Grag liked the patient, quiet Moon Wolf, and he saw that the Eel Man was timid. But he disliked the so-called “Meteor Dwarfs,” Juho and Luho, two hideous Plutonian freaks who stared at him with red-rimmed, hostile eyes.
ALL the freaks seemed to fear Ul Quorn. The softest word of the mixed-breed was obeyed with frantic haste. It made Grag realize the perilousness of his own position, but he was careful to keep up a loud boastful front.
“When other performers treat me right, I treat them right,” he roared. “When they treat me wrong, I break ‘em in half.”
“You better not try threatening me,” muttered the Hearer.
“Let the Strong Man alone,” the Moon Wolf said hoarsely. “His loud talk means nothing. I think he is a good fellow.”
Lounging and watching everything, Grag later that morning saw a lean, cocky figure in a foppish zipper-suit swagger through the grounds. It was a vain-looking, lithe, white Ganymedean.
“That’s the new acrobat Jur Nugat hired for the circus,” said the Moon Wolf in his husky, slurred voice. “He calls himself the ‘Ultra-acrobat’. They say he did some marvelous feats.”
“I don’t like acrobats,” Grag declared. “They skip around like insects. If they get in my way, I —”
“You break ‘em in half?” asked the Moon Wolf, looking up at him with a flicker of strange humor in his green animal eyes.
In the early afternoon, a tremendous sensation rocked the circus. A rusty old Kalber rocket flier landed nearby. From it emerged a big Venusian swamp man, driving before him six shambling, black-scaled monstrosities.
“Marsh tigers — and they’re loose!” went up the terrified yell.
Performers and roustabouts fled in all directions, yet the horrific beasts lumbered docilely along toward the main pavilion. Grag knew the swamp man driving them was Captain Future. But Curt had disguised himself so well, he was totally unrecognizable. His curly red hair was now straight and black, his tanned skin the unhealthy white of a swamp-dweller. He wore a soiled old zipper-suit, and had one hand thrust idly into its pocket.
Grag guessed that Curt had his will-dampener in that pocket to keep the beasts in a submissive stupor by means of its radiations. He saw Captain Future approach the office of Jur Nugat, the circus proprietor, who had locked himself inside.
“Take those beasts away!” shrieked the Saturnian.
“I can control ‘em,” Curt answered confidently in a soft Venusian dialect. “I’m Kovo, and I thought maybe you’d buy these marsh tigers.”
Fearfully Jur Nugat emerged, trembling, but apparently reassured by the obvious docility of the ferocious beasts. Grag heard him ask:
“You really have tamed these monsters? But nobody has ever tamed marsh tigers!”
“I have,” the pseudo-Venusian replied casually. “Watch me.”
Grag saw Curt playfully cuff the monstrous beasts, wrestle with them, do everything possible to rouse them. They remained docile.
“Say, if you did that in an act, it would be the sensation of the circus!” Jur Nugat yapped excitedly. “Will you?”
“Well, I’d only figured to sell you the beasts,” Curt answered with assumed reluctance.
“I’ll pay any salary you ask — within reason,” Jur Nugat offered. “But I won’t buy the brutes unless you come with them.”
FOR the rest of that day, Grag heard of nothing but the Venusian who had actually tamed marsh tigers, and was going to work in an act with them in that evening’s show. When evening came, lights and music flared and blared all through the circus and the side-shows. Crowds of curious, chattering Venusians began streaming into the grounds.
“You’ll go on fourth, after the Moon Wolf,” Ul Quorn told Grag. “Your Thinking Machine will follow you.”
When the Moon Wolf had finished its turn, speaking patiently in its husky voice to exhibit its human intelligence, it was Grag’s cue to go on. He had already prepared an act with bars and weights.
“I’m the Strong Man of Space,” he roared at the audience. “See that bar? Watch me break it in half.”
A ripple of amazement came from the spectators as Grag seized a steelite bar and actually snapped it into two pieces. The applause mounted as Grag lifted colossal weights, bent girders, and concluded by lifting a light platform on which twenty men were standing.
“Now the Thinking Machine!” shouted the barker. “The automaton that actually answers your questions.”
The cylinder that contained the hidden Brain was brought out and the audience began firing questions at it. It replied hesitantly in a deliberately artificial voice.
“Why doesn’t my husband get back from Earth?” asked a woman.
“Husband — Earth — pretty girl,” answered Simon.
A roar of laughter went up. In replying to questions, the Brain was careful not to make the answers too appropriate. He didn’t want anybody there to think he was anything but a cleverly faked machine. Then he felt himself lifted off the stage to make way for the Chameleon Man’s turn. Resting unnoticed in the wings, Simon heard the Hearer and Ul Quorn speaking close beside him.
“I tell you, it’s Captain Future in disguise, right here in the circus!” Ul Quorn was saying in a low tense voice. “That devil is on our trail. I’m going to put him out of the way right now.”
Chapter 8: Death Cage
NOISILY blaring a raucous Martian march, the brilliantly uniformed band of the Interplanetary Circus marched around the big main pavilion. Krypton lights glowed on the metal walls for the thousands of people who jammed the innumerable rows of seats.
“Big show about to begin!” barkers outside could be heard shouting. “Hurry, hurry! Don’t miss it, folks!” Jur Nugat, the thin, blue Saturnian proprietor of the Interplanetary Circus, stepped into a spotlight as the band’s music ceased.
“Introducing the greatest galaxy of interplanetary acrobats ever gathered together!” he bellowed at the mob.
The crash of brass from the band and eager applause from the packed audience greeted the half-hundred men and girls who ran out and nimbly climbed to the high, swinging trapezes and wires.
“Each and every performer wears a standard gravitation equalizer!” Jur Nugat was announcing loudly. “A committee of reputable witnesses inspects them before each show. No gravitation fakery in this circus, folks!”
The band swung into a soft Earth waltz. The acrobats — Martians, Earthmen, a few Venusians, and a great number of swarthy Mercurians, began the giddy leaps and swings above the copper-gauze safety nets spread far below. They somersaulted, hung by one finger, danced on wires.
“Look at that bunch of amateurs,” growled Otho, eyeing with disdain the feats that held the spectators breathless. “They ought to be ashamed of taking money for such childish stunts. Wait till I show that audience something.”
Otho, disguised as a white-skinned Ganymedean, was wearing tight-fitting trunks. He stood casually beside Captain Future, who lounged negligently as a Venusian swamp man.
“Quiet, Otho, don’t seem to be talking to me,” whispered Curt without moving his lips. “I think Ul Quorn is watching us.”
Future’s keen eyes had noticed Ul Quorn standing with the Hearer in the shadow of the pavilion entrance. The mixed-breed’s handsome red face was imperturbable, but Curt saw him say something, and noticed the Hearer slip hastily away.
“Quorn’s up to something,” Captain Future mused. “If he has suspected us —”
A thunderous crash of applause interrupted him. The acrobats had finished their performance. Jur Nugat was introducing the next act.
“And now the greatest acrobat in all circus history, making his first appearance. The Ultra-acrobat from Ganymede!”
Otho stepped into the spotlig
ht and bowed elaborately. Then he turned and spoke loudly to the circus laborers nearby.
“Take those nets away!” he ordered. “I don’t need ‘em.”
“But we always use nets —” Jur Nugat began to protest.
“Not for me!” Otho declared, making sure he was near the microphone. “Nets are for amateurs. Now watch a professional.”
As the laborers hastily rolled up the copper gauze nets, Curt swore beneath his breath.
“That reckless android would have to show off to a crowd, just when Quorn may be getting suspicious.”
Otho started climbing a rope toward the highest trapeze platform. He went up hand-over-hand so fast that the eye could hardly follow him. A cry of astonishment came from the crowd. The band played a pulsing Martian rhythm, and Otho went into his act. He dived straight toward the ground, a hundred feet below.
A YELL of horror broke from thousands of throats. But ten feet from death, the android caught a hanging rope. He swung in a dizzy arc up toward another trapeze platform, where he landed gracefully. Then he turned and bowed to the audience.
The crowd went wild. It was a feat such as no one had ever seen before. No human being could have performed it, of course. It required the utmost dexterity of even Otho, the fastest and most agile of all beings in the System.
Gratified by the applause, the android went on with his spectacular act. He swung free on a rope, leaped toward another rope twenty feet away, did eight somersaults in midair, and landed safely. He hopped loosely swinging wires on one hand, flashed between the ropes and wires so swiftly that sometimes he was hardly visible. When he finally slid down and stepped into the spotlight, the applause was terrific.
“You big ham!” Curt Newton whispered furiously as Otho paused beside him. “Showing off may make Quorn suspect you, too! He’s been watching every move you made.”
Otho glanced quickly across the pavilion. Quorn was still standing there. At that moment, he was rejoined by the Hearer. The freak had brought a small conical metal case.
“I just wanted to show ‘em what a real acrobat could do,” defended Otho. “Didn’t you hear that applause? Boy, did I go over big!”
“Listen to me, you idiotic hunk of rubberoid,” Curt hissed. “While Quorn and the Hearer are here, now is your chance to search Quorn’s pavilion. He may have the space stones stowed away in some hiding place there. Try to find them.”
“Okay, Chief. But you be careful with those damned marsh tigers.”
“Get out of here — Jur Nugat’s going to announce me,” Curt warned. “If you and I seem too friendly, it’ll ruin everything.”
As they conversed unnoticeably, the equestrian acts had been on. Star interplanetary riders had shown their skill in managing Earth horses, Jovian lopers and bucking, fierce Saturnian stads. “And now our new attraction, ladies and gentlemen!” the Saturnian proprietor announced. “The greatest wild-animal act in interplanetary history. The ravenous beasts never before tamed by man! The man who tamed them — Kovo the swamp man — and his marsh tigers!”
Curt shambled out like a typical swamp man and bowed clumsily to the crowd.
“Let them into the cage,” he ordered the waiting laborers.
From the round main pen, constructed of stout steelite bars, a passage led outside to the menagerie. Through this passage, prodded on by light touches with an atomic goad, the six marsh tigers charged. Roaring deafeningly, clawing viciously at the bars of the big cage, the huge, black-scaled beasts reared up on their thick hind legs, raising their hideous snouted heads. Their small reptilian eyes were blazing, their great fangs and razor-like talons gleaming.
Excited, fearful cries came from the audience. These Venusians knew that marsh tigers, the most terrible beasts of their world, had seldom been captured and never tamed. “Are you sure you want to go in there?” Jur Nugat asked Curt, and this time he spoke sincerely. His face was pale as he stared at the roaring monsters.
“They won’t hurt me,” Curt said casually.
“Take this atom pistol, anyway,” the Saturnian begged.
HE INSISTED on thrusting the weapon into Curt’s belt as Captain Future stepped toward the door of the cage. The entire audience was hushed, tense. The marsh tigers were snarling and quarreling at the side of the cage farthest from the gate. Curt Newton quietly slipped inside and quickly re-locked the door.
The scaled beasts turned at the click. Twelve reptilian eyes glared as the ferocious monsters crouched for the savage leap that no man could stop.
“They’re going to kill him!” screamed a hysterical Venusian woman in the audience.
“Look!” yelled another voice. “Gods of Venus, look!”
Curt’s hand had pressed the switch of the will-dampener instrument in his pocket. The instant the radiated neuronic electric force struck the vicious brains, the crouching marsh tigers relaxed. The will-dampener completely blanked out their natural ferocity, making them as docile as kittens.
The audience gasped incredulously as two of the marsh tigers shuffled up to Curt. But when he patted the hideous monsters, the Venusians cried out. They burst into thunderous, frantic applause as Curt mounted the largest and most terrible marsh tiger and negligently pulled its ears.
“Kovo! Kovo!” the audience yelled in frenzied applause. Curt Newton turned to bow to the audience. A terrific roar of fury behind him made him spin around. The marsh tigers were no longer docile and submissive. They were crouching again to spring at him. Ophidian eyes glared bestial hate at him, and deadly fangs glittered murderously.
“Devils of space!” Curt muttered. “The will-dampener’s out of order —”
Then he realized that the instrument was still buzzing away in his pocket, radiating its neuronic vibrations. But suddenly the marsh tigers seemed to have become immune to it.
Captain Future’s eyes flashed around the cage. He knew he was in the greatest peril. The marsh tigers were between him and the door of the cage. They would spring in another instant.
His keen eyes, photographing every detail even in that ghastly moment, glimpsed Ul Quorn and the Hearer. Back in the shadows of the pavilion entrance, the Hearer was holding a conical machine. He was aiming its apex directly at the cage, and Ul Quorn was smiling faintly at Curt.
“Neutralizing my will-dampener in some way!” Future muttered. “I knew he suspected.”
Abruptly he shouted to the horror-stricken circus laborers outside the cage.
“Put the copper gauze nets around the cage. Quick!”
The sound of Curt’s voice acted as a trigger to the mindless ferocity of the six beasts. They charged. Then the audience saw something that none of them would ever forget. Curt Newton did not wait to be rended by fang and talon. There was one slim chance to escape death. As the marsh tigers sprang, he leaped to meet them!
OVER the head of the foremost monster he sprang and landed on its back. Grabbing its neck with one hand, Curt Newton rode the marsh tiger, using his free hand to fire swift flashes from his atom pistol at the other beasts.
To the audience, the big cage was a whirl of black, scaled bodies in which the man could hardly be seen. To Curt, it was a mad riot. The marsh tiger he clung to was bucking and rearing in roaring fury to dislodge him. But his hideous mount kept the other marsh tigers from reaching him for the moment, and his atom gun tended further to bewilder them. Though he clung to the beast with all his great strength, Curt knew that even he couldn’t last long.
A cold sensation gripped the heart of Captain Future. To die beneath rending fangs in a steelite cage — It couldn’t be! He had always known that someday one of his adventures must end in disaster. But he had always thought it would be out in the spaceways with the white eyes of the familiar stars for witnesses, not in a trap like this beneath the eyes of horrified thousands.
Suddenly the mad bucking and roaring of the marsh tiger stopped. The beast quieted down, stood plaintively purring. The other reptilian monsters had also grown docile again. The laborers outside t
he cage had succeeded in wrapping the copper gauze nets completely around the cage.
“Just in time,” Curt gasped. “Lucky those workers weren’t Quorn’s men, or he’d have countermanded my order.”
He still felt the reaction of the narrow escape, yet he let none of it show. He turned, dismounting from the quiet monster, and bowed again to the audience. They applauded until the thin metal walls of the pavilion shook wildly.
“Kovo! Kovo!” the roar went up.
Curt slipped out the door. Only when he was outside did he turn off the will-dampener in his pocket.
“I thought they had you, Kovo,” Jur Nugat stammered. “Gods of Saturn, you had me scared.”
Curt shrugged. “They were a little unruly tonight.”
The Saturnian’s blue jaw sagged.
“A little unruly?” he bleated.
Curt ran hastily to the dressing pavilion entrance. Half along the covered way stood a curious-looking machine, as though left there by a careless worker. It was the cylinder that contained Simon Wright.
“Lad!” rasped the metallic whisper of the Brain. “I came here to warn you. I rolled here in this fake body. I heard Ul Quorn speaking tonight to the Hearer. He suspects you’re Captain Future!”
“Your warning’s a little late, Simon,” Curt said with a grim chuckle. “Ul Quorn nearly got me a few moments ago. I’m the only man who ever invented and used a will-dampener. Remember my demonstrating it last year to the Uranian zoologists? Quorn must have heard of my invention. When he saw me controlling marsh tigers, he figured only a will-dampener could do it. Hence, I must be Captain Future.
“Quorn figured to kill me without seeming to be implicated, as he would be if he used an atom gun. He intended to neutralize my will-dampener by using a conical generator of powerful electro-magnetic vibrations that blanked out my instrument’s force. I guessed what he was doing at once. I had the Circus laborers put up the copper gauze nets around the cage to screen it from Quorn’s blanketing force. Then my will-dampener was able to function again.”
Captain Future 05 - Captain Future and the Seven Space Stones (Winter 1941) Page 6
